"What do you mean I need Grade C English and Maths? I've bloody walked on alien planets, and I know I've saved the world more fucking times than your whole organisation has with its pots of money and teams of people."

Pete took a breath to retort. He didn't get a chance. Rose was on a roll.

"And I don't even exist. If you are going to magic a whole person into existence why can't that person have straight As, why can't they have a bloody degree?"

"Because you don't. You'll get found out." Pete was sober, and calm. He said it with a look of regret on his face, eyes downcast. This is how he always looked at Rose, as the emotionally fragile girl who he took in because it kept Jackie happy. The girl who was such an insurmountable mess that her life was destined to be sat in front of the same telly she had been for the past three months mourning the life she once had. She'd never get out of this depression. She was Rose Tyler, broken.

"You think I'm thick"

"I didn't say that. But you said you got an E in maths. You don't know some things, and you'll get caught out".

"I don't know loads about this world. I'll learn on the job. I always learn on the job, and I pick it up. You know this!"

"y = mc +x. What does it mean?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because one day someone will get you to do the numbers and you won't be able to do it and you'll be found out".

"Funnily enough I've never had to work out an equation in the middle of an invasion. Too busy with keeping everyone alive. And if it's that bloody important I'll learn it!"

"THEN LEARN".

-x-

That's how Rose Tyler ended up sitting her GCSE English and Maths. She wanted to do it at a college, meet some people outside of the mansion, but then someone had seen her photo in the newspaper and it leaked out that she knew Pete Tyler. Suddenly became everyone's best friend, them always wanting to go to the A list haunts or get the latest showbiz gossip before the rest. Rose hated it. She just wanted to blend in, stop having everyone staring at her or talking in hushed tones around her. She didn't want to have to put on a front when she was still a mess inside. She couldn't keep that game up, so college had to go for the sake of her sanity.

Pete had offered to get her some private tutors, some guy who used to teach at some posh boarding school, but then she'd once again be stuck in the mansion. Instead she went to some guy who had an advert in the paper, turning up with her hair under a hat and different makes up on and any attempt she could to look less like "That new Tyler girl". It must have worked, because if he ever worked out who her dad was he never let on.

She worked every hour god sent learning some book called Of Mice and Men. It might have existed at home, she wouldn't know. The sooner she could get through the book, the sooner she could get a job at Torchwood and throw that bloody GCSE certificate in Pete's face. Show she could bloody do it.

It took 3 months from the row to the exam room. As many tutor sessions as she could manage crammed in, late nights over a GCSE text book, reading and rereading the books and god knows how many visits to BBC Bitesize. What was a quadratic equation anyway? Would she ever need this shite? No. But she was going to get that mystical grade C. That stupid system where 49% is a crap GCSE, but 50% is a good one. She'd never use it, but if it got her nearer to the job which was like her old life, the alien tech which could get her home, then it was worth it.

Jackie provided endless amounts of tea and forced her to go to bed when once again she woke her daughter up, slouched over her coursework with the lamp still on. Pete bought any revision guide she so much as looked at while the staff were under strict orders not to move any piles of notes – no matter where they were dumped. Poor Katelyn had learnt the hard way that tidying the mess left by a girl in mid-revision panic would result in a crappy day at work.

The March exam session came up and she was entered. Candidate 1347 at centre number 32241.

English was fine, page after page filled with how a leaflet about Animal cruelty was trying to persuade the audience, quotes about death from Hamlet, using keywords like onomatopoeia and alliteration to get some extra marks. She was still writing at the end, and tried every question – so that had to be a good thing, right?

Maths was harder though, and she'd never been any good at it. She entered herself a higher paper, she wouldn't admit to Pete that she was anything but the best but in hindsight she wouldn't be getting an A*, so what was the point. She just needed a C. It was the mantra in her head. Two grades up from last time, but this time she didn't have the distraction of Jimmy Stones, his flat and cans of cheap lager. Just the motivation to get THAT job, to get home. If she could get an E without trying in a crappy comprehensive surely she could get a C now.

But the exam was foul, and while everyone else was furiously scribbeling down notes Rose was staring at question 2b. This was above her, Pete was right. She would get found out and after all those hours of study she still wasn't good enough. Which is the X axis, is that along the bottom or up the side? Tan = o/a, but which side is O? Why was that percentage always coming out as 3600%, when it couldn't possibly be? She struggled through, completely missing the last two pages and praying to god she'd done enough. When she got home, she opened a bottle of wine and drunk herself to sleep.

-x-

Results day. An A in English. C in Maths. Job done.

"See, told you I'd fucking learn" she said to Pete, her smile and happy demeanor covering that truth in her words. She hated Pete a little bit, hated he didn't trust her and didn't think her capable. She wouldn't say it outright to his face, but she hoped the slight squint in her eyes gave the "eff you" she wished she wished had the guts to say.

"And you did." He said, "Well done, interview set up next Wednesday at 3pm. Go get yourself a suit". And that was it. Nothing else. Well, if she can pass a maths exam she was going to dazzle at that interview. Nothing was going to keep her away from Torchwood.

-x-

She came in pissed as a fart. Mickey, Jake and her in a pub drinking wine to celebrate, then spirits and mixers because they were on special offer (you can take the kid off the estate…) and then onto shots, because by that point who cares. The next morning she woke up with Mascara halfway down her cheeks, looking like Alice Cooper and feeling like her stomach was on a spin cycle.

It wasn't until midday she felt sturdy enough to move to the lounge. The mansion had many but this one had a telly and squashy sofas and actually felt like a room you could live in. Rose dressed in a fluffy dressing gown with an alka-seltzer in hand and not enough energy to feel shamed as Jackie walked in and sat next to her.

"It's the first time I have gone out since I got here, mum. So just don't. Alright?"

"Yeah, I know sweetheart. Just… I thought you should know. About the GCSEs. The A*-C wasn't the test".

"Eh?" Rose looked blankly at her mum, where the hell had which come from?

"It wasn't about the grades, it never was. The interview has been set up for weeks. It was about you having something to go for, and you having an opportunity to show him you're more than a love-sick girl mourning the death of your bloke."

Rose glared. All those hours and it wasn't needed. Pete should could understand, but her own mum dragging her through that…what the hell.

"Oh, don't give me that. You were ready to give up. And wanting to prove him wrong gave you a distraction. You needed it. And like you said, it was the first time you've been out since getting here, you actually went out to have a good time."

The glare continued

"Oh, I shouldn't have bloomin' told you. But I thought maybe, if you knew we all knew you'd be fine, you'd stop looking at Pete like that."

"Like what?" Head down, looking along her nose with a slight squint in her eyes. Jackie was fast regretting this conversation.

"Like the guy who is stopping you getting to The Doctor. Even if you get the job at Torchwood, even if it is what you want to do, if The Doctor can't work it out, well, just…don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Your whole life can't be chasing what you had. I know, took me 6 years to stop chasing what I had."

"But, it's all I have…" Rose started to sniff, and Jackie leaned over to force her into a hug she only put up token resistance again.

"But Rose. You can do it on your own. You've just proven it to yourself. It might not be the perfect life you want, but you can do it. It's not disrespectful to keep going, in fact it would be worse just to stop. Do you think that's what he'd want?"

"No" a snotty Rose mumbled into her mother's dressing gown.

And that was the moment Rose realised that her life couldn't stop. That she had to keep going, and she was going to do everything she could in the meantime because when she finally got back to her Doctor, she was going to have so many stories to tell.

I consider this unfinished, but I don't know what to do to sort it out. I think it is a mess and am really not happy with this. However, I am convinced there is an idea in here somewhere. I would love reviews and constructive criticism.

I am really struggling in ways to break up speech, I think I write like it's a script and then all description seems tagged on. Anyone got any ideas how to stop this?

Thank you all :)