A/N: So, this doesn't follow canon at all. I was listening to music and all of my thoughts are zoned into Rose and the Doctor (Ten) right now.

Rose sat on the edge of the tub, sobbing into her hands. It had been two months since the Doctor had dropped her off in her mum's apartment, telling her that what he had to do next was too dangerous for her to come along: Two long months not knowing whether he was dead or alive, and now this.

"Rose?" Jackie called, her footsteps stopping outside the bathroom door. "Rose, darling, what's wrong?" But her daughter was unable to answer, sobs choking off her words every time she tried to speak. "Rose, I'm coming in, alright?"

Jackie walked in to see her daughter still in her robe, despite it being four in the afternoon, crying like a baby, multiple white sticks lying across the edge of the sink. "What's going on in here? What wrong?"

Rose shook her head, gesturing to the sink as she tried to stop her tears with the edge of her sleeves. Jackie frown, looking down at the white things littering the sink. Some had smiley faces, some had plus signs, and some had blue lines. Her eyes widened as she turned back to her daughter. "Are you…"

The girl nodded, tears streaking her face.

"…and is it…"

"Yeah…" she sniffled. "It's his." Her knees hit the floor and she began crying again. Jackie knelt beside her, gathering the girl in her arms, rubbing her back gently. "I don't know what to do," Rose sobbed. "I don't even know if he's dead or not!"

"Shh," Jackie hushed her daughter softly, stroking her hair. "You're going to have that child, and you're going to raise it up good and proper, alright? You love him and if he did die, that baby is all you have left of him."

Rose nodded, clinging tightly to her mother, the last of her tears soaking into her shirt.

Rose sighed, the red light of the microwave's clock taunting her with the time: fifteen past twelve, the morning of her twenty-third birthday. She hadn't been able to sleep the past few years. It was like her body kept her awake just so she could hear the sound of the TARDIS when it came back… if it ever came back….

"Mummy?" She turned around to see her four year-old, her long brown hair tousled from sleep.

"Stella, what are you doing up?"

Stella looked up at her mother, her big brown eyes filled with tears. "I had a bad dream."

"Did you?" Rose asked, picking up the little girl. "Well, what do you say we have a cup of tea and some biscuits then you can sleep in my room?

"Okay." The girl rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Rose smiled softly as she moved around the kitchen, fixing tea and fixing a plate with cookies.

They finally settled in the living room, a single lamp on and Stella curled against her mother's side as she nibbled on the cookie in her hand. "Mummy?"

"Yes, darling?" Rose asked, taking a sip of tea.

"Why don't I have a dad?"

Rose choked on her tea, quickly setting down her cup and turning to look at her daughter, who looked so much like the man who had left. "Well, sweetie..." she trailed off then sighed, picking up Stella and setting her on her lap. "Everyone has a mum and dad. It takes a mum and dad to make a baby."

Stella nodded, looking up at her mother with curiosity. "So where is he?"

The older woman sighed. "What do doctors do?"

"They help people."

"Exactly. Your dad is a doctor and he had to leave before you were born to go help people. He went so far away that he couldn't send a letter in the post or anything like that."

"But he's helping people, right?" Stella asked as a tiny smile stretched on her lips.

"Right and that's what he loves to do. He'll come back when he's done." She assured, though not sure who she was trying to convince at this point.

"That's what I want to do when I grow up."

"Do what, exactly?"

Stella beamed at her mother, looking so much like her father that Rose almost burst into tears. "I'm going to be a doctor!"

She laughed softly. "Sounds like a plan, sweetheart." Rose kissed her daughter's forehead. "Now, let's go to bed, alright?"

Stella nodded. "Oh, Mummy…"

"What is it, darling?"

"Happy birthday."

Stella Tyler walked out of the school building, clad in her uniform, backpack slung across her shoulder. She was number one in her class, again, and was a grade ahead of where she was supposed to be. At sixteen, she would be graduating that coming spring. The thought simultaneously enthralled and terrified her. She was closer to uni, closer to med school, but also so close to leaving behind her mum and gran.

As a little girl, she would sit on the balcony of their apartment, wishing on stars, praying her father would show up. Sixteen years of seeing her mother's tears had hardened her and she harbored some resentment for the man. Why couldn't he come back? What was more important than his family? Why didn't she even have his last name? She pushed the childish notion that he would come back aside and threw herself head-first into her studies.

A sound reached her ears, an almost grinding that flooded the street. Everyone around her continued on, oblivious to the sound. Not her: the noise seemed to resonate in her very bones. Without thinking, she started running in the direction it was coming from. She slowed down when the noise stopped, finding herself in an abandoned lot, a single, blue, 1950's police box in the middle of it.

Stella frowned, walking around the box warily. It felt as though something was drawing her to it, like her blood was screaming for her to just touch it. She came back around to the door, reaching a hand out to open it. Before she got the chance, the door flew open, revealing a man with dark hair, wearing a suit, Chuck Taylors and a trench-coat.

"What's the matter with you?" He demanded, staring at the school girl. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to touch things that don't belong to you?"

Stella raised an eyebrow. "It says 'public,' plain as day on the outside. Last I checked, I was part of the public."

The man cocked his head to the side, taking her in. "What year is it?"

"Twenty-twenty one," She replied, rolling her eyes, beginning to walk away.

"Wait, what's your name!" The man yelled.

"Sorry, my mum told me to never talk to strangers."

"What about your dad?"

Stella turned around to glare at the man, her words soaked in venom. "Never met him." With that, she spun back around and began to stalk back to her apartment.

Her gran, or Jackie (as she insisted she wasn't old enough to be a grandmother), still worked as a hairdresser and her mum worked as a science teacher at the local primary school. Jackie would get home first and make a pot of tea for herself and her granddaughter, then begin on fixing dinner for the night. Stella's mother would get back later, press a quick kiss to her daughter's forehead as she did homework, then began on her lesson plans for the next week.

That night was no exception. The three women were gathered at the table, eating the fish and chips Jackie had prepared. Stella looked over to her mother, who, despite being in her late thirties, was still gorgeous and still unmarried.

"Mum, why don't you ever go out, y'know, enjoy yourself, meet new people?" Stella asked, picking at her chips unenthusiastically. She really didn't like them, but her mum and gran insisted on having them constantly.

"Because," Rose replied, taking a sip of tea. "I'm happy with how life is going. I have you, my old mum-,"

"Don't call me old," Jackie interrupted, glaring at her child.

Rose laughed before continuing. "And I have my students and a job I love. What more could I ask for?"

"Uh, a man, maybe?" Stella watched her mother and grandmother stiffen before continuing. "Come on, Mum, I've seen you looking at bridal magazines. You have a binder planning out your dream wedding, though I can't understand for the life of me why you would want that many desserts with banana in them. You just have to get out there and find someone!"

"I'm perfectly fine with the way things are, thank you," Rose replied, standing to take her sink to the plate.

Stella watched her sadly, feeling anger and resentment welling up in her chest. "It's because you're still waiting for him, isn't it?" The sound of ceramic shattering filled the room as the plate slipped from Rose's grip. Stella winced, but continued on. "It's been sixteen years, Mum. He's either dead or he moved on, more likely the second one. That's what you ne-,"

"Shut up!" Rose spun around, glaring at her daughter. "Don't talk about things you don't understand!"

"What's there not to understand?" Stella hadn't realized she had stood until she was mere feet from her mother. "He left! He knocked you up and ran and never looked back. What am I not understanding, Mum, please tell me!"

Rose shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're a child, you wouldn't understand. He loved me and h-,"

"Obviously he didn't if he left!"

Silence fell in the room. Her mother pushed past her to go to her room, followed by Jackie, who was carrying a fresh cup of tea. Stella sighed, grabbing her jacket from the coat-rack by the door, pulling it on over her tank top. She yanked on her red Converses before heading out into the night.