Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, and all the characters you recognize belong to the BBC.

A/N: Bit of a sequel piece to Heart of Stone, but definitely not necessary to read that for this. Just another Pete's World Archive piece I couldn't get out of my head. Happy reading. =)

"I'll only be gone for a few days, Doctor." Rose said as she grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter.

The Doctor had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the fridge unhappily as he watched her rush to slip on shoes and zip up her Torchwood jacket. "Are you sure you can't take your mother with you?" he asked with the barest hint of hope.

She laughed as she caught his expression. "You'll spend half the day out of the house at Torchwood with my dad anyway. You'll barely even see her. Besides, it's her house too, and seeing as how you're crashed on her livingroom couch each night I reckon you owe her."

He looked mortified. "Me? Owe your mother? Haven't I paid enough?"

"You're such a drama queen. Honestly, you'll be fine." she said, rolling her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she slewed about the kitchen. "Now where did I put my keycard?"

The Doctor held up the item in question and cleared his throat. She reached up and snatched the card from him, leaning in for a hug as she tucked it into her jacket pocket. His gloomy expression melted as he slipped his arms around her and smiled softly into her hair.

"Promise me you'll try and get along with her?" Rose asked, looking up at him.

He gave a long, dramatic sigh, before answering, "I'll try, but if she murders me while you're gone it'll be on your conscience."

"Fair enough." she smiled, tightening her arms for a second before pulling back and dashing off to the doorway. "I'll see you in a few days." she called from the entryway just before shutting the door behind her.

The Doctor stared at the back of the closed door. He used to be the one running out of houses, slamming doors. Now he was sitting in the Tylers' kitchen, the most terrifying threat he faced was that of one Mrs. Jackie Tyler, as he watched Rose go off to deal with overseeing the setup of Torchwood's secondary branch in Wales. It could have been much, much worse. Still, he didn't fancy spending four days around Jackie without Rose to intercede for him.

"Doctor, we need to be going as well." Pete said as he entered the kitchen, going to pour himself a mug of coffee before hurrying out to the car, not even waiting for a response. Sighing, the Doctor walked to the door, opened it, stepped outside, then quietly closed it behind him.

The Doctor flopped down on the couch, groaning as he kicked off his shoes. Things had not gone well at Torchwood. A self-replicating mining flea-droid had somehow activated in the lab, and he had spent three hours crawling through the narrow confines of the air vents searching for its central distribution node. This was after the R&D department had accidentally overloaded their new electrical micro field processors and nearly set off a trion-based fusion bomb that would've made the atomic bomb look like a soda-pop detonator. On top of all that, one of the new interns had set off the lockdown protocol by mistake. Ordinarily, this would've been fine, but with the R&D overload earlier, the comm systems had been knocked out, and Pete couldn't issue the shutdown code. Everyone had been trapped inside the building for hours until the Doctor and a few of the technicians had finally figured out how to trip the system into resetting. All in all, it had been an extraordinarily exhausting day.

It was fairly early for bed, but as he stretched out on the couch he found he didn't really care. So, he made himself comfortable, closed his eyes, and waited…

And waited...

And waited…

The minutes ticked by, but still he waited. Thirty minutes. Forty-five. Sixty. Ninety. He fidgeted, adjusting his position for the hundredth time. Finally, he opened his eyes. Maybe going to bed early wasn't such a good idea after all. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the TV remote, flicking through channels before finally settling on one playing Lady and the Tramp.

Hours passed. Pete turned in at the normal bedtime. Jackie stayed up to drink another cup of tea, but ended up talking on the phone until close to midnight. Eventually though, even Jackie went to bed. As the clock in the hall chimed three, the Doctor still couldn't seem to get to sleep. Luckily, there always seemed to be some movie or show on to distract him. Though at five in the morning even a documentary about dolphins seemed fascinating. When Jackie shuffled past the living room on her way to the kitchen at seven the next morning, he was still wide-eyed and watching telly.

"What d'ya want to be watching a gardening show for?" she asked, peering at him curiously.

"Never too early to be thinking about camellias." he said vaguely, eyes glued to the person on the telly arranging a bed of roses and clover. Jackie gave up and went to make herself a cup of tea, muttering something about his strange habits and it being too early for this nonsense.

He mostly tuned her out as she continued talking about Jan next door or something. He wasn't really sure he could've pieced together what she was talking about even if he had been properly paying attention. Instead, he watched a variety of advertisements on cooking supplies, and learned the differences between full-shade to full-sun flower varieties and where best to plant them. The longer the Doctor sat in front of the television, the more his eyelids started to droop.

A hand on his shoulder made him sit bolt upright, his momentary tiredness forgotten. His eyes snapped open to find Jackie hovering over him. To his relief, she didn't appear to be irritated or angry with him at this particular moment. Once that sentiment fully sunk in, he noticed that she was looking at him with a concerned expression. She continued to stare at him, as if she were expecting a response to something.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, feeling slightly off-balance and flustered as he distractedly rubbed the lingering feeling of sleep from his eyes.

"I asked if you got enough sleep, love. You look like you need to go lie down for a bit." she explained gently, her tone soft, peering at him uncertainly.

"What? Oh, no, sorry, I'm fine. Really, fine, Jackie. I slept for a full eight hours two nights ago. I don't need to sleep again until tomorrow night at the earliest." It wasn't strictly true. With his new part-human biology, he really should be sleeping every other day or two for several hours, but Jackie didn't really need to know a thing like that. As it was, he was surprised at how almost motherly she was being.

Even as he thought this, her tone took on a sharper, more threatening, Jackie-ish edge to it that the Doctor recognized instantly as trouble. "Oh, don't be daft! Even almighty Time Whatsits have to sleep sometimes. Now go on, shoo. Go and lie down for a bit."

Deciding not to press his luck, he nodded. As Jackie returned to the kitchen, the Doctor shut off the TV and settled down as comfortably as he could on the couch. For the second time that day, he closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep.