This is my first Doctor Who fic, so I'm a little nervous about it. Couldn't resist, though. All the things I've read involving time loops were running through my head so fast I couldn't not write it.

This takes place sometime between The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways. Be warned, I haven't even gotten to season three yet, never mind the Eleventh Doctor. Also, this is unedited.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

"Alright then, who was your first love?"

So far Rose and Jack's game of Twenty-One Questions had been informative for the Doctor. Things like family structure, embarrassing friends, fondest memories, were laid out for each other (and him) as they all lounged in the console room. Well, the humans lounged and Time Lord tinkered.

Now, with that single question, it was getting into dangerous territory. Not so much because of the question but who asked it. Of course, Jack would be the one to bring up the subject.

Never before had the Doctor been so irritated and grateful at the same time. He resisted the urge to drop his tools and listen blatantly, working marginally more quietly instead. No matter how he hated his curiosity about Rose's romantic life, it burned to not know.

"Well, it sounds a bit silly," Rose said hesitantly, after a moment's contemplation. She drummed her fingers on the metal grating of the floor she was sitting on, right by the console.

The smell of adrenaline along with pheromones made the Doctor frown slightly. What could she be so nervous about? It was just an old story of a first love. He resisted the urge to growl at the boy who made her feel such things, especially the pheromones, and the man who brought it up.

"Those stories are always a little silly," Jack assured her with an easy grin the Doctor could barely see.

"Here goes," Rose muttered before she got lost in her story. "I was eighteen and I had just broken up with Jimmy Stone- he was an arse of the highest caliber- and he sent his… friends…," Goons, maybe lackeys, then, "to bring me back. They trapped me in an alley and I was biting and clawing and I managed to scream once. I was so afraid."

The Doctor hated the stench of old fear and anger that was rushing off his companion in torrents. Even as his chest grew hot he banged a spanner a little harder than necessary on the floor beside his head. It was all he could do not to growl.

"And then?" Jack urged softly. For all that he was an obnoxious playboy, even he knew when to be serious.

"And then he came," Rose said simply. The negative emotions seemed to disappear all at once, replaced by a wistful fondness in her voice. She missed the bugger, whoever he was.

Before Jack felt the need to ask again, Rose continued, "My first thought was that he should just call the police and get away, and then when he stormed over I was so sure that he was going to end up in the ER right next to me. He looked like he had raided the closet of a grainy old professor from his bow tie to his too-short trousers, and even the tweed jacket- complete with elbow patches- didn't hide how skinny he was. He was tall, though."

It sounded like something one of his previous forms would have been quite fond of, the Doctor found himself thinking with a sneer. Not that it was him. Something like this, encountering Rose, he wouldn't have forgotten.

"When Jimmy's friends just laughed at his warning to leave me alone, it turns out that he was fast too. And impossibly strong," Rose contemplated. "In only a few minutes they were all out cold. I don't think he actually punched them, it looked like he just... touched them. On the head. He only gotten hit once, he was too fast, and he didn't seem to even feel it. He was so angry… It was like he was taking it personally that I was hurt." Through the grating, the Doctor could see her tracing designs on the metal with her fingertips.

Jack whistled, obviously impressed. Against his will the Doctor agreed. For an ape, Rose's first love was tougher than expected.

"At first I was afraid of him, but when he finally looked at me, I couldn't be anymore," she said after a short pause, "He was just so sad… And then he said my name and asked me if I was hurt. I didn't realize how hurt I was until he asked, and that's when I finally felt it and kind of collapsed. It hurt so much I couldn't even cry."

The Doctor's grip on a wrench tightened almost painfully. He made a mental note to go back and hand those wretched beings' arses to them. He knew he would never do it though, not as long as Rose was safe here with him.

"But he caught me. He dove down and caught me." Rose's voice brought him out of plans for murder, and the smile in her voice nearly made them disappear. "The next thing I knew he was picking me up, and I couldn't help smiling because it was just so ironic that I was the one who had nearly been kidnapped but he was the one crying. I passed out around then.

"When I woke up though, someone was holding my hand. At first I thought it was my mum, but when I opened my eyes it was him. He had fallen asleep half on the bed, with one arm over me and the other hand in mine, like he was still trying to protect me. He realized I was awake, and then he gave me this smile…"

From nearly across the room, the Doctor could hear Jack's happy sigh. His own huff was lost in the gentle hum of the TARDIS.

"It was like sunshine, like he didn't believe we were both actually there but was so happy anyways… That was when I realized how much older he was than I thought, a little under thirty, with these gorgeous green eyes and floppy brown hair." She teasingly added, "And a dimple on his chin."

"Sounds like a real looker," Jack commented, a lascivious grin in his voice.

"Oh, he was… It was so strange, though. When I asked his name he gave me what obviously wasn't his real name- nobody's named John Smith anymore-" Rose snorted disdainfully.

The Doctor lost the rest of her sentence when he hit his head trying to sit up, forgetting he was under the console. He bit out a curse at the pain. He cut himself off with the sudden realization that maybe, possibly, that was him. Just not a him that he remembered.

"He told me that in a year I was going to be in an impossible situation and a stranger would take my hand. That I would find where I belonged, right then but never before. He kissed me, slid his hand out from mine and left," Rose said, a lost quality to her voice.

"Mum told me that he had carried me to the hospital, filled out my paperwork- correctly, mind you- and never left my side. Not for three days. She said that-" her breath caught, "- he had this look like… like I was his world. His world and everything in it. She said that he was a man more in love and despair than she had ever seen. On his way out he ran into her, and he had this look like he was trying to not laugh and cry at the same time, as he told her to give the infamous Jackie Tyler slap to whatever man next tried to take me away from her." She sniggered.

The mere memory of that encounter made the Doctor grateful that his face was hidden. He knew his ears had gone red with embarrassment. Even though it had been months, he could still feel that slap.

"We never saw him again," Rose finished sadly, "No matter how hard we looked so that we could give him a proper thank you, we never found him. Then, three hundred and sixty-six days later the Doctor found me in an impossible situation and took my hand and told me to run."

There was silence for a moment as the trio all digested the strange story about an even stranger man. There was no doubt in the Doctor's mind now- it was him. A future him. But why would he act that way unless-

The gears in his mind ground to a halt. No. It couldn't be. There was no way he would give Rose up willingly, not anymore, so something must have happened to take her away.

Determination blazed through the Doctor as he got back to work. The information he heard, he filed away in his mind to always remember. Something would happen to try to separate him from his Rose. And if he had any say, it would fail.

The Doctor felt lost as he stared at his new reflection. Floppy brown hair, green eyes, dimple on his chin, about twenty-seven. Then he looked at what he was wearing: a bow tie, oxford, tweed jacket with elbow patches, too-short trousers and a fez.

A memory of a long-ago (or at least it felt like it) game of Twenty-One Questions coursed through his head at the image. It was exactly how Rose had described her first love, the man who had saved her from getting kidnapped. The conclusions that his Ninth self had drawn were accurate.

He hissed and clutched his chest at the reminder that, through their own arrogance and stupidity, he and his Rose had lost each other. But then, he realized with another look in the mirror, his other conclusion had to be right as well.

With a grim smile that would have looked more at home on his Ninth self than this Eleventh one, the Doctor spun on his heel and left the wardrobe room. He had a task to complete. This time, he wouldn't fail Rose.

After all, for her it had already happened.

-END-

So how was it? Not quite sure I got the characterization right, and I know I left out the accents, but for my first foray into this fandom I'm rather satisfied. Drop me a line! Please be gentle, though.

-Thrae