Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC. I'm just borrowing...

Thanks, as always, the wonderful Sonic Jules for support and beta assistance.

Author's Note: This is set mid-season two.

She was on her knees in the dirt, digging at the hard, rocky soil with a small trowel. Her palms were both rough with the remnants of old blisters and raw with new ones. Her nails were ragged and torn to the quick. Tangled clumps of hair hung over her face. She glanced to the side to see another young woman in a similar position, working equally hard. Still, it wasn't enough; it was never enough. The harsh shout from the hillside warned of the consequences for idleness. If three baskets were not filled with the knobby root vegetables by next check, penalties would ensue.

Rose pushed herself to work faster. The trowel dug into her sore, broken skin, but she ignored it. Her knees ached, and pain prickled along her shins from the rocks digging into them, but she paid it no heed. She focused all her attention upon the task at hand. She'd seen the consequences of failing to do this, and she was determined not to witness them again.

So intense was her focus that the unique, familiar sound nearly escaped her. It had been so long since she'd heard it; she'd almost forgotten what that bizarre grinding whine signified. Still, something within her mind sparked, and she dared a quick glance up.

Rose squinted in the hot afternoon sunlight. Was that a hint of blue peeking out behind the hillside? She lifted a hand to shield her eyes, hardly daring to believe that he'd finally come back for her. But there it was: The light atop the TARDIS glinted in the sunshine.

The sight spurred her to action. She shot to her feet, dropping the trowel into the dirt. "He's here!" she cried to the woman beside her. "I knew he'd come!"

Her friend lifted tired eyes to Rose. "Really?"

"Yes! We're getting out of here. Come on!" Rose held out her hand.

The woman hesitated. The guard was already moving toward them, a deeply threatening expression upon his face.

"Go, Rose," the woman said. "Come back for me if you can."

"No, you have to come too," Rose protested.

"There's not time. Just go. Get out of here."

The guard was no more than a few yards away. This might be her only chance. With a look that held her promise, she told her companion, "I'll be back. We'll come back for you."

The young woman nodded and quickly grasped Rose's hand. "Now go."

Rose turned and began to run. Her legs felt leaden at first, then they seemed made of jelly. But she pushed on, limbs pumping for all she was worth as she rounded the base of the hill. Behind her she heard angry shouts, but she ignored them. In her mind, she heard a single word, spoken in a familiar voice: "Run!"

Spurred on by the memory, and the knowledge that the owner of that voice was waiting for her, she ran.

The Doctor walked down the ramp and through the door, taking a moment to survey the surroundings. Yes, this was the right place, and his chronometers assured him that this was the right time, within a margin of thirty-five days or so. If he'd arrived too early, he'd have to adjust the settings and try again. Still, he'd made it back, finally, and he felt immensely relieved. Knowing that he'd stranded Rose here broke his hearts. It had been an accident, of course, a quirk of fate, but that was no excuse. He should have been more careful, more aware of the potential for this to happen.

He looked around at the arid land and felt the heat radiating up from the earth. This was a miserable planet with little to offer its inhabitants. Still, they made do, using that infallible human resolve and tenacity to eke out a living from the dry soil and scant mineral deposits.

Suddenly shouts echoed against the hill. Following the noise, his gaze shot to the right, and a figure came into view. It took him a moment to realize that it was Rose. She was running, but her gait was odd and lurching.

He dashed toward her, shouting her name. As he neared her, he saw the man who pursued her. He was burly, his expression murderous. The Doctor reached for Rose's hand and tugged her along at his side, not wasting the time to speak to her.

They ran over the dry dirt, feet and hearts pounding furiously. The guard was drawing nearer, screaming dire threats that the Doctor felt were anything but idle. The Time Lord pulled Rose along, forcing her to keep up with his long, fast stride. He tried not to think about what her slower pace might signify. He kept his eyes forward, not daring to glance at her for fear that her appearance would cause him to falter.

The guard was close at their heels, but they managed to get to the TARDIS before he intercepted them. The Doctor yanked Rose inside then slammed the doors. He hurried up the ramp to dematerialize the ship and remove them from harm's way.

The ship shuddered lightly, then the sequence was complete. Still panting slightly, he looked up. Rose remained by the doors, hands upon her knees, trying to catch her breath.

He strode down the ramp to stand somewhat awkwardly before her.

"You've taken us away?" she asked huskily.

He nodded.

She shook her head. "We have t'go back. There's someone there, a friend…I promised her I'd come back for her."

"We can, but not for a little while." He paused. "Rose, I—".

She looked up at him and inhaled sharply. "You came."

Immediately she was in his arms, her embrace tight and affirming. He held her securely, hands at her back. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and her head nuzzled his shoulder. For a few seconds he allowed himself to revel in her presence, to rejoice in their reunion without thoughts of where she'd been or what she'd done. But he was forced him to consider the effects of his carelessness as he realized abruptly how terribly thin Rose felt within his arms.

He took a step back, moving his hands to her shoulders and fixing his gaze upon her. Her face was streaked with dust; her eyes appeared small without the benefit of mascara and liner. Hanging in lank clumps, her hair looked very dark. She wore a simple shift of rough material, and her bare legs were coated with dirt. It was difficult to appraise her state beneath all the grime.

"Rose," he said, "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were damp with tears. "What happened?" she asked hoarsely.

"There was a time storm; that's what we felt right after we landed there. It's a sort of vortex that forms when Time Lines cross unexpectedly. It was directly over the planet—that's why the TARDIS landed us there. And when I stepped back into the ship, she sealed herself off. It was the only way she could be protected from the force of the storm. We got swept up in it, and I kept trying to get back, but I couldn't until it was over. And I thought maybe it'd just been a day or two, but it wasn't, was it? How long was I gone?" The words had tumbled from him; he paused to take a breath.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me on purpose," she said softly. "Knew you'd come back, too."

"Of course I would. I'll always come for you." He hugged her again. "So how long was it for you?" he asked again.

"Dunno, really," she murmured against his jacket.

He rested a hand over her head. "I'm sorry." He knew he'd already said it, but it bore repeating more than once.

"I know." Abruptly, she stepped away, touching a strand of hair beside her cheek. "Need a shower," she said.

Well, that was entirely true, he supposed. She needed a good meal or twenty, too. Suppressing the niggling fear that there were other things he should ask, that he should find out exactly what she'd been doing while he was gone, he gave her a warm smile.

"That you do. And when you're done, I'll have some food ready. Any special requests?"

She shook her head. "Anything but dry bread." She gave a short laugh. "Just kiddin'." She began to shuffle toward the interior door. "Anything'll be fine. But I might be awhile."

"Take your time," he told her, watching her slightly halting steps as she disappeared into the corridor.

To be continued…