A/N This is a gift for my lovely beta Vampiyaa, for being so amazing and making sure that everything I post is free of mistakes. She is also phenomenal for helping me out when I get stuck, and just generally being awesome.

I plan on the story being about 5-6 chapters, so let's see how we go.

Chapter 1

The Doctor piloted the TARDIS absently, his mind preoccupied with wayward thoughts. After several thousand years, he was beginning to feel his age, especially in this body of his. There were downsides to old age, especially how he could never seem to remember people like he used to. On the other hand, it also had the upside of how he had stopped caring whether he remembered or not.

Except her, of course. He could still see her face as she fell and the void closed behind her. Every time he blinked, that white room at Canary Wharf would flash behind his closed eyelids, and he could feel the pull of the void as a raw scream tore his throat at watching Rose fall. There was a time when he had wished he could have let go as well and fallen with her, but age had also taught him wisdom.

His companions would only ever be loneliness and pain, and he was certain that this particular incarnation of him had accepted the truth of it wholeheartedly. Even his eleventh self had tried to fight it, and chosen to mask it with wide grins and smiles, but in his twelfth life, he had ascended beyond keeping up a facade. Death and destruction always followed him, and finally, he had stopped running from it and accepted it a part of his life. He would never stop travelling, of course, nor would he ever stop finding new people to travel with. But he was wise enough to keep them at an arm's length. It was better for everyone in the end.

The TARDIS started materialising, and he smiled to himself. After so many years of piloting her, he didn't even have to pay full attention to the console anymore. He'd merely set the coordinates and she would usually take him with minimal guidance from him.

The star system of Valencia was one of his favourite places in the universe, and he hadn't visited it since his seventh life. There were only four planets in the system: Avalonia, Iphigenia, Hesperia and Ophelia, and twenty eight moons in total. The humanoids of the star system had evolved to live longer lives, and had rid themselves of war and conflict. Instead, they focused on all forms of arts and literature, choosing to add beauty to the cosmos.

He personally loved Hesperia's fourth moon, Hesperia Delta, for their lovely music scene in the northern sector, but this time, he had arrived on Iphigenia to his surprise. He shot a confused look at the console, and shrugged before deciding the TARDIS knew what she was doing. Iphigenia was certainly more of an urban society, with tall buildings, fast cars and commercialisation of everything under their red sun, but it was still better than Avalonia, which was definitely the most primitive of the four planets.

When he stepped out of the TARDIS, he realised immediately that the cool, dry air belonged to the inside of a museum. He had no idea how that smell and air managed to remain the same throughout museums across all of time and space. He closed the doors behind him and took a look around. It was a long gallery with a high, vaulted ceiling, and paintings lined up on both walls, separated from him by a gold velvet rope.

He started walking along the gallery, looking at the paintings keenly and noting that they were beautiful works, and belonged to some of the very prominent artists in history. None from Earth, of course, though he hadn't expected them to be either. The star system, while not too far from Earth, had existed several years before Earth would even have human life. He had just reached the last painting when a loud alarm sounded through the gallery and he heard the sound of running feet coming closer.

He turned to slip back into the TARDIS, but he felt something zoom through the air and prick his back. He winced in pain and turned around to see a group of security personnel regarding him with hostility.

"Ah," he said, reaching into his pockets. He saw a few more of them prime their weapons, but he drew out his psychic paper. "Don't worry," he began, but felt his vision blur slightly. "I'm the art inspector." The world started tilting, and he realised that whatever had pricked him in the back had been a tranquilliser. "Art inspector here to...inspect art."

His knees gave out and he fell to the ground with a thud. Just before he passed out, he heard one of the security personnel speak on the comms., asking for the curator.

Rose Tyler's day had already been busy, and it wasn't even time for lunch yet. Her new exhibit, her pride and joy, was finally ready, and she was busy with the launch party that was happening in two weeks. She hadn't realised that being the curator of a museum in the middle of Iphigenia's capitol would mean that every elite personality from the star system would be dropping in for the launch. She simply could not afford any mistakes.

She had been planning the launch for three months, and as it got closer, she got more and more nervous to make sure that everything went perfectly. She had spent her morning tracking down her caterer to go over the menu once more, and was already exhausted when her head of security came in to tell her that they had arrested an intruder in their new exhibit that was supposed to be opened at the launch party.

"He claimed to be an art inspector, ma'am," said Markus, her head of security. "He had the credentials and everything."

Rose rubbed her forehead. "Where is he now?" she asked.

"He's unconscious," said Markus. "One of the rookies had an itchy finger and he fired before we could say anything."

"Great," said Rose sarcastically. "Have him brought to my office. The intruder, not the rookie."

"Are you sure it's wise, ma'am?" asked Markus.

"Well, if he is indeed an art inspector as he claimed, then I doubt he would enjoy waking up in a prison cell, Markus," said Rose. "And if he isn't, I have to apologise and smooth things over before he decides to sue us."

"Yes, ma'am," said Markus, and saluted smartly before leaving.

Rose shook her head, and fixed her hair so she looked a little more presentable. Art inspector or not, she was going to have to apologise for the rookie who'd decided to shoot first before asking any questions. She had only just smoothed her hair down, and made sure that her grey tweed skirt suit had no wrinkles, when Markus returned to her office. Two of his people were carrying in a man with curly silver hair, dressed in a black suit.

"Set him down over there, please," said Rose, nodding towards the sofa in her office. "You didn't tell me he was an older gentleman," she muttered, looking at Markus. He shrugged apologetically, and Rose shook her head. "How did the rookie think he was a threat?"

"I don't know, ma'am," said Markus. "I intend to speak with him once this is taken care of."

Rose nodded, but the intruder started to stir, so she knelt over him. "Easy there," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. A strange chill ran down her spine, but she ignored it. "You've had a bit of a tumble. How are you feeling?"

The man was staring at her with bleary eyes before a dopey smile lit up his face, making him look younger despite the wrinkles. "I am feeling so great," he said, slurring a few words. "You are here. How can I feel anything but fantastic?"

Rose raised her eyebrows and looked at Markus. "What did the rookie shoot him with?" she asked.

"Standard tranquilliser, ma'am," said Markus.

"Well, clearly it has done more than knock him out," said Rose, looking down at the man who was now holding up a strand of Rose's hair in front of him and beaming so much that she was afraid that his face would split in half.

Markus scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Some people are known to have a reaction to the tranquilliser," he said. "Mostly off-worlders."

Rose cursed under her breath and gently extricated her hair from the man's grip. "Can you tell me your name, sir?" she asked, determined to handle this as professionally as possible.

"Yes," he said, but continued to stare at her like he'd never seen a woman in his life.

"Okay, what is your name?" she tried again, when it became obvious that he was too doped up to realise what she'd asked him.

His eyes abruptly focused and he grabbed Rose's hand with both of his, startling her. "You know me," he said, his gaze intense as it bore into her eyes. "You know me, don't you? Please tell me you know me," he pleaded, suddenly sounding breathless.

"Sir, let go of my hand," said Rose, feeling her heart pounding as fear flashed through her. "You're hurting me," she added when he merely tightened his grip.

At her words, he immediately let go. "I'm sorry," he said, his words slurring once more. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

Rose was surprised by his sincerity. "It's alright," she said. "I was just startled, that's all."

"Never wanted you hurt," he said, apparently not hearing her. "Never wanted to hurt you, Rose."

He slumped yet again and passed out on her sofa. Rose stared at his unconscious form in shock. She didn't remember telling him her name, and something about his words had shaken her. She straightened up and bit her lip, looking visibly distressed.

"Ma'am?" said Markus. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," said Rose quickly. "How did he get into the exhibit?" she asked, changing the subject.

Markus looked even more uncomfortable. "We don't know, ma'am," he said. "There wasn't a breach at any of the entrances. He simply just...appeared."

"Surely he didn't just pop out of thin air," said Rose, raising her eyebrows disbelievingly.

"Well, the only other thing that was out of place was a blue police box," said Markus.

"What's that?" asked Rose.

"I don't know, ma'am," said Markus. "It was locked, so we could not investigate further."

"Show me," said Rose.

Markus nodded and gestured at two of his personnel to stand guard over the intruder's unconscious form. He led Rose back down to the gallery with the new exhibit, and Rose was surprised to see that Markus had not been mistaken. It was indeed a blue box, the size of a cabinet that said 'police public call box' on it.

Rose stared at the box for a few long moments, enough for Markus to shift impatiently.

"Everything alright, ma'am?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Rose, her throat having gone dry for reasons she couldn't comprehend. She walked up to the box and laid a hand on it. "It's vibrating."

"It could be dangerous, ma'am," said Markus, but Rose didn't pay attention to him as she tried to open the door. "It's locked, like I said."

"So it is," said Rose, giving up. She paused contemplatively for a moment and then reached into her tweed jacket to pull out the key that she wore as a pendant around her neck. It was the only thing she had left of a life she had long forgotten, and she couldn't bear to part with it for reasons even she didn't know. She had no idea why she was getting the urge to use that key to open the box, but it made perfect sense in her head.

"Ma'am?" asked Markus uncertainly.

"Just trying something," she murmured and inserted the key into the lock. To her greatest surprise, it fit right in and when she turned it, she heard the unmistakeable sound of the door unlocking. She looked at Markus, who looked just as shocked as she did. She was about to push open the door when Markus' comm. buzzed in.

"Sir, you have to return at once," said Markus' second in charge over the comm. "The intruder is awake."

The Doctor was irritated, which was putting it mildly. So far, he had been dropped into the middle of a museum by his TARDIS, hit by a tranquilliser that had given him a massive headache, and the same people who had shot him were currently holding him. To top that, he remembered a hazy dream in which he'd seen Rose again, and he was in no mood to be around anybody else that day.

"You've seen my credentials," he snapped once more at the people holding him. "I need to go."

They paid him no mind, and he gritted his teeth in annoyance. He sat back on the plush sofa, trying to come up with an exit strategy. He knew that this must be the curator's office, but he couldn't see who the curator was yet. One of the people holding him had spoken over a comm. telling them that he was awake, so he assumed that the curator was on his way to see him. Usually, he would just charm his way out of it, but he was feeling distinctly uncharitable at the moment.

A tall man dressed in the same uniform as the guards walked into the office and appraised the Doctor sharply. "Identification, please," he said.

The Doctor stood up and resisted the urge to snap before flashing him the psychic paper again. "Dr. John Smith," he said. "Art inspector."

His eyes flickered down to the paper in the Doctor's hand, and he nodded once before standing down. "You can come in now, ma'am," he said.

"Give us the room, please, Markus," said the woman who walked into the office, and the Doctor felt the air leave his lungs with a 'whoosh'.

He barely noticed the security personnel leaving the office, and she was speaking but the Doctor could not hear a single word. It was Rose. Alive and beautiful Rose standing in front of him, close enough to touch. He didn't dare move, couldn't even blink for fear of breaking whatever delusion this was, which was letting him see Rose as if she were really alive and speaking to him.

He realised that she had gone silent, and had a confused look on her face with just enough wariness to jolt him from his conclusion that he was experiencing a rather vivid hallucination. Methodically, he examined all his senses, and realised that there was nothing in his system that could cause a hallucination of this kind. Even the tranquilliser-induced headache was gone.

Which led him to the conclusion that she was real. But it could not be Rose Tyler. Because Rose Tyler was long dead, and he knew he hadn't imagined that. An impostor perhaps, or simply a doppelgänger. That seemed to be a more plausible explanation.

Something in his chest loosened, and he focused enough to be able to speak to whoever this woman was. "What was that?" he asked.

She still looked a little wary. "I asked, how is your head?" she asked.

"Oh, it's fine," he said, wanting to hurry this along because quite frankly, it was far too painful to look at her. "I'll just be on my way then."

"Are you sure you don't need medical attention?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She nodded uncertainly. "Well, I apologise once again for my staff," she said. "If they'd had any idea that you were an art inspector, they would not have acted in such a manner."

"It's fine," he said hastily, and moved towards the door to leave but she casually blocked his path.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something before you left," she said, biting her lip nervously.

"What?" he asked, nearly snapping because he just wanted to get away from her.

"How did you know my name?" she questioned, with a curious look on her face.

That made him stop and stare at her. "What?" he asked again, his throat going dry.

"You called me Rose before," she said. "It seems really odd that you knew that."

"Your name…" he said, starting to feel dizzy again, but not because of the tranquilliser this time. "Your name is Rose?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "I suppose I should have introduced myself before. I'm Rose Tyler. Curator of this museum."

She held out her hand for him to shake, but he grabbed her wrist forcefully and tugged her forward.

"You think that's funny?" he asked, fury shining from his eyes. "Did you really think I would let you get away with using her name, let alone her face?"

She looked at him in shock and tried to shake his grip on her wrist, but he held it tighter still. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice shaking just a bit at how angry he looked.

"Don't play me for a fool," he snapped angrily. "What are you? Zygon? Rutan? Some other being capable of shape-shifting? I don't know how you knew to pick this face and form, but rest assured, it's the last thing you'll ever do."

"Let go of me," she said, looking furious. "I don't know what kind of side-effect that tranquilliser is having on you but if you don't release me, I'll call security."

He growled in anger but didn't release her. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice ice cold.

"I'm Rose Tyler," she said.

"No, you are not," he shouted. "Rose Tyler is dead. Do you hear me?" he asked, tightening his grip on her wrist to the point that it was painful. "ROSE TYLER IS DEAD."

She winced in pain. "Let me go," she said. "You're hurting me."

Those seemed to be the magic words because he let go and took several steps back. She rubbed her wrist, noting the budding bruises that had appeared on it. He noticed them too, and shame washed over him. Whoever she was (and maybe she was somebody else named Rose Tyler who just happened to look the same) did not deserve to have him manhandle her.

"I'm sorry," he said, uncharacteristically. "About the..." he gestured to her wrist vaguely, "wrist."

She nodded, cradling her wrist close to her chest. "I'm not lying to you," she said. "My name is Rose Tyler. I'm sorry if you lost someone who happened to have the same name as me."

The Doctor started to nod, but then he noticed that there was a key on her chest, next to where she was holding her injured wrist. Even from this distance, he recognised that key, because that particular key had been one of its kind, and he'd given it to Rose Tyler.

"The key," he said, his mind finally telling him what his senses had realised from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. "How did you get the key?"

She looked confused before lifting up the chain with the key. "I don't know," she said. "I've always had it. Curiously, it opened that blue box of yours. I don't even know how…" She stopped and took a step back when he crossed the distance and grabbed her shoulders. He felt her flinch when he touched her, but unlike before, his touch was utterly gentle.

"Rose?" he said softly. "It's me, Rose. It's the Doctor." She looked blankly at him, but he was not discouraged. "I know my face has changed but it's still me. I thought I'd lost you, precious girl. Have you been here long? How did you get here? No, wait, that's not important." He shook his head and placed one hand on her cheek. "You have no idea how long it's been since I have seen you. Are you alright?"

He waited for her to answer, but she only continued to stare blankly at him until she spoke. "I don't know you," she said simply, and moved away from his touch. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Rose, you know me," he said, not caring that he sounded desperate. "The Doctor. You remember when we met? I was all nose and ears and leather jacket. And then after that with all the hair and those skinny suits? Rose, you remember me, don't you?"

She took a few more steps back and shook her head. "I'd like you to leave now," she said.

"Rose," he said, stepping towards her but she stepped back yet again.

"Leave," she said. When he tried to come closer, she gave up on handling the situation herself. "Markus!" she called.

The door to her office opened at once and Markus walked in with two guards behind him. "Ma'am?" he asked.

"Please escort this man off the premises," said Rose. "I'm afraid he is dangerous."

"Rose," pleaded the Doctor as the guards grabbed his arms.

"He thinks I'm someone he knows, yet I have never seen him in my life," she said, crossing her arms over her body protectively.

"Escort him out," ordered Markus, and the guards dragged the Doctor out.

Rose looked away, trying not to look at him shouting her name as they took him out of her office.

"I'll see to it that he is escorted out of the museum," said Markus.

"Thank you, Markus," said Rose, feeling the need for a shot of whiskey even though she rarely drank. "I think the poor man is just confused, but I'd rather not have him near me."

"Yes, ma'am," said Markus and turned to leave. Just before he left, he looked back at Rose. "He seemed really convinced that you knew him. Is it possible for him to be someone from your past, ma'am?"

Rose raised a trembling hand to her eyes and shook her head. "No," she said. "I have no past."

A/N Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.