London, UK
Week before Christmas, 1992
"Jackie, you really should take some time for yourself and come out with us sometime," Ginger pushed quietly, "I know it's been hard, and you're working to take care of Rose all by yourself, but you need to take care of you too."
"Well what am I supposed to do, Ginger?" Jackie whispered as she took a sip of her wine. Rose was in the kitchen of their new flat working on her homework; unpacked boxes set all around the apartment like giant unruly building blocks. It was Christmas holiday break, but she still had a history project to finish. "I can't just leave her on her own, she's 7 years old. What kind of mother would I be, leaving a little girl all on her own to go "out with the girls?""
"You don't have to leave her on her own," Ginger grinned. She pulled out a little slip of paper with some numbers scrawled on it. "I took the liberty and found you a sitter."
"Oh Ginger," Jackie took the number and stared at it, "I cant afford a sitter, and what if he's some kind of nutter? Where did you find him?"
"Oh, I already checked him out. He used to be a teacher at a boys school. And he said first time's no charge; he doesn't take money unless you're pleased with his work."
Jackie scrutinized the page, "So," Ginger piped as she stood from the couch, "Friday, 7 o'clock, Julius' pub down the block, don't be a second later missy or I'll yank ya by the pigtails myself!" Ginger disappeared from the apartment before Jackie could say another word.
Friday 23 December, 1992
6:45pm
Jackie nervously set the last dish into the drying rack on the counter. She'd never left Rose alone with anyone before, save her parents and once or twice with Ginger when there was an emergency. And she had met this man for coffee on Wednesday; he seemed nice enough, a little crazy and dressed strangely, but he generally seemed like a good person, and good with kids.
And Ginger was right; she did need a girls night out. And maybe a nice, handsome young gentleman to buy her a drink...
The sharp knock at the door pulled Jackie from her daydream. "Coming!" she shouted. She dried her hands and walked to the door, stopping at the mirror beside it to straighten her hair and apply a fresh coat of lipstick before opening it.
"Hello!" The tall man shouted, and pulled Jackie into a hug.
"Hello, Mr. Smith!" Jackie answered, her voice muffled by his jacket.
He pulled her back and stared at her, smiling, "Good to see you again, Jackie!" He exclaimed, almost a little too enthused. "Are you excited for your girly fun time? Painting nails, doing hair, pillow fights..."
"Vodka," Jackie interrupted. Mr. Smith looked ever so slightly caught off guard; Jackie giggled. "Let me introduce you to Rose, ROSE!" She called back the hallway, "Come out and meet Mr. Smith!"
The strange man froze in the door way, suddenly nervous. Jackie pulled him eagerly into the flat and closed the door behind him as the sound of little feet patted down the hallway. A young blond girl came around the corner and leaned in the entrance of the hallway, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Rose, dear, this is Mr. Smith, he's going to watch you tonight, mummy's going out with Ginger for a bit, okay?"
"Okay," Rose replied, not moving from her spot in the hallway. Jackie swiftly grabbed her coat and gloves, kissed Rose on the forehead, and disappeared out the door.
"I'll be back by 11:30, bedtime's at 10, don't cause any trouble, understood?" She called. Rose smirked as the door closed behind her mother, leaving her and Mr. Smith alone in the flat.
They stood silently a moment, eyeing each other suspiciously, the only sound coming from the dull hum on the telly.
"Why are you dressed funny?" Rose asked.
"What?" Mr. Smith asked, his voice catching in his throat.
"Why are you wearing a bow tie and fancy clothes? You're babysitting not running off to a party. Are you?" She asked.
"No, I..." He blubbered for a moment, tongue-tied.
Rose gasped, "You ARE, aren't you! I knew it, that's what Miss Ginger always does. Why else would you wear a bow tie?"
"Bow ties are cool!" He exclaimed. This wasn't going as planned. "No, I'm not going to a party...well, I mean, we could if you'd like."
"We could go to a party? I'm a kid, why would you take me to a party?" She asked skeptically, her arms crossing tighter.
He only stared at the girl; he hadn't really anticipated being completely awestruck by her presence.
She glared at him and huffed, "this is going to be a boring night."
"Miss Rose Tyler..." He bent down to her level, "we can do whatever you like."
"Really?"
"Of course! Anything you can imagine, we can have cookies or watch telly, play Gorillium Tetris, make Terrant Singing Stained-Glass for your mum, visit the 10th Moon of Ortrea..."
"Go where?"
"The 10th...well..." he shook his head, "never mind that, but really, what would you like to do?"
"Well...I have a school project I have to finish, but..." She grinned devilishly as she tried to think of something, "Can we...make hot chocolate?"
Mr. Smith grinned softly, "yes, of course we can make hot chocolate."
7:30pm
The kitchen counter and walls were covered in hot chocolate powder, splashes of milk, an empty container of marshmallows had tumbled to the floor, a pot with scalded milk sat in the sink, and Mr. Smith and Rose sat at the kitchen table with sugar cookies, sipping hot chocolate with whipped cream almost as tall as the cups.
Mr. Smith set down his cup, and he sported a large whipped cream mustache. Rose giggled, then dunked her face into her whipped cream, coming back up with a full whipped beard. Mr. Smith smirked. "Whipped cream mustaches are cool," she giggled.
"Yes, yes they are," Mr. Smith agreed. He licked his lips and most of it came off. "So, Rose, what is your school project for?"
"It's for History, I have to write a paper on Winston Churchill." She took a bite of one of her cookies.
"Ah! Winston Churchill, fantastic man, he and I..." he exclaimed enthusiastically; Rose stared at him quizzically. "He, uh, fascinating chap. Read a lot about him in books and...things. So, what are you writing about?"
"I'm supposed to write a three-page biography over holiday."
"Three pages?" Mr. Smith exclaimed, "How on earth do they expect you to write a biography on Winston Churchill in three pages!"
"I'm only in Year 2," Rose explained, "Three pages is alot!"
"Right...okay, we'll let's see what we can do then. What kind of research have you done?"
Rose jumped up from her chair and ran to the living room table where she had moved her homework and gathered everything up. Mr. Smith followed her to the living room and shut the kitchen door. He knelt down by the little table and inspected the piles of handwritten notes that Rose was trying to organize.
"I've got when he was born, when he died, his school and his jobs, and I wrote one page already. I just don't know what to finish with."
Mr. Smith skimmed her assignment quickly with a furrowed brow. "Okay, this is good, now, the thing you have to know about Winston Churchill..." He looked down into her big brown eyes as she watched him, hanging on his every word. "The thing you have to know about Winston Churchill," he grabbed at a page describing his early work life, "is that there's so much more to him than just being Prime Minister, he did so much more than that. For example, he liked to paint in his free time, and he was a writer, and all sorts of things..."
9:00pm
"...Winston Churchill was one of the most influential, inspir..."
"...ash..."
"...inspirational men in recent history, and he will never be forgotten." Rose looked up from her page and grinned proudly.
"That was perfect! Absolutely brilliant!" Mr. Smith exclaimed, jumping from the couch and extending his palm for a high five. Rose slapped his hand hard; he held it up high, and she made a jump-shot for it. She stood beaming, her completed project in hand.
"So you think it'll pass, yeah?"
"Of course it'll pass! It's the most passingest 2nd year biography I've ever heard; Winston Churchill himself would be proud."
Rose giggled, "okay, I'm going to pack up then." She gathered the pages of her work and disappeared down the hallway to her room with them. Mr. Smith smiled proudly, then opened the kitchen door to fix another snack. Rose padded back down the hallway into the kitchen, then stopped in surprise. "How did you clean it so fast?" She asked; he hadn't left her side the whole hour and a half they had been working on the paper, yet here the kitchen was, completely and totally cleaned.
He stood there holding a bowl of freshly popped popcorn; he flung a piece into his mouth and grinned. "Blue fairy dust," he said. "So, Rose, what next?"
"Um...could we watch a movie?" She asked, still bewildered by the kitchen.
"Of course!" He passed her own bowl of popcorn, and went back out into the living room. "Out you pop, what do you want to watch?"
She ran into the living room and dug through the VHS tapes by the telly. "Oh, I love this one!" She exclaimed, "have you seen it yet?" She asked, holding up 'Aladdin.'
Mr. Smith smirked, "Good choice."
9:45
Rose and Mr. Smith sat on the couch with the lights out, midway through watching the movie, munching on their popcorn.
"Mr. Smith?" Rose said quietly.
"Yes, Rose?"
"I wish I had a flying carpet."
Mr. Smith smirked, "Do you now? And what exactly would you do with a magic carpet?"
She thought long and hard for a minute before answering simply, "I'd go everywhere."
Mr. Smith smiled, his face ever-so-slightly sat. "Miss Rose Tyler, I believe someday you will find a magic carpet."
"Really?" she asked, her brown eyes wide.
"Absolutely. And it will take you everywhere."
Her face split into a wide smile, and she scooted across the couch and snuggled into his side.
"Mr. Smith?" She whispered.
"Yes?"
"Tonight isn't boring."
10:30
"But I don't want to go to bed!" Rose whined from beneath her covers.
"Now, don't start; your mum said bedtime was half an hour ago, if she finds out I let you stay up later she'll have my head and both my hearts on a platter."
Rose giggled, "Mr. Smith, you're mad. No one has two hearts!"
He laughed, "Of course I'm mad, Rose! But like my good friend Lewis Carroll likes to say, all the best people are."
"Well I like you, even though your mad."
He smiled softly, "I'm glad." He squeezed her tiny hand, "now, off to sleep with you, before your mum gets home." He stood up and walked towards the door of her bedroom and shut off the light.
"Mr. Smith?" She asked. He slowly turned around; the light from the hallway fell softly through the door onto her face, making her big brown eyes sparkle. Her face was furrowed into a question.
"Yes Rose?"
"Why are you sad?" She asked.
He froze in the door way, trying to find away to avoid the question, but he couldn't. He slowly walked back into her room and sat with her on the bed.
"Well, I..." He couldn't look at her; he turned to the floor. "I lost someone. A friend, someone I cared for very much."
"You lost them? You don't know where they are?" She was suddenly extremely concerned.
"No, I know where she is, and she's safe," he assured her.
"Is she happy?"
He thought about grown up Rose, lost on the other side of a universe, trapped with her Doctor; everything she wanted, that he could never give.
"I imagine she is, mostly." He said quietly, his voice cracking.
"How did you lose her?"
He turned to little Rose, trying not to let his eyes water. He smiled painfully, "I let her go."
Rose watched him for a minute, then jumped up in her bed and wrapped him in her tiny arms. For a moment he was surprised, then hugged her back tightly.
"Do you think you'll ever find her?" Rose asked.
He pulled her away and tucked her into bed. "I did find her, or she found me, rather. But I think I've seen her for the last time now. I think...I think it's all done now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well...you know how grown ups don't like going to work on Mondays, or like how you don't want to go to school after holiday? What do you do?"
Rose blushed, "Sometimes I just pretend I'm sick and take a sick day."
"Well, Rose, tomorrow I have to go somewhere I really don't want to go. And...well, I'm all out of sick days."
"You can look for her after!" She suggested.
Mr. Smith shook his head, "No, no...she's fine where she is. I...can't look for her anymore." He stood up and walked out of her bedroom door, pulling it shut behind him.
"Mr. Smith?"
He sighed tiredly, "Yes?"
"I think...if she's happy, even if you miss her, you don't have to be sad."
Mr. Smith nodded and forced a smile, "goodnight Rose."
"Goodnight Mr. Smith." She cuddled down into her blankets as he shut the door.
He stood just outside for a moment, staring at the floor. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, and ran down his cheek, jumping off his nose to the floor.
Then he shook his head and walked down the hallway to the linen closet; he opened the door to reveal his TARDIS.
8:50pm
He landed the TARDIS in the messy kitchen, being careful to leave the parking brake off. He could hear himself and Rose working on her assignment just outside the closed door. He grabbed a dishcloth and quickly wiped up the counters and walls, then grabbed a sponge and quietly did the dishes. He opened the pantry and searched for the popcorn, grabbed a bag, and threw it into the microwave, then quickly jumped back in the TARDIS.
11:15
He sat on the couch, his hands on his knees, staring ahead, silent tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. He had been sitting for half an hour now, waiting on Jackie.
He didn't want it to end. He knew what waited for him in his tomorrow; he had been running, and for too long. And now it was time to stop.
He didn't want to leave. He turned over ideas in his head, but he knew he couldn't stay. This is what must be, and he knew it. Time could not be rewritten, not this.
Just then, he heard a jingling at the door; he wiped the tears from his face as Jackie burst in. He stood up quickly from the couch, "Eh, Jackie!"
"Mr. Smith!" She exclaimed; she wobbled to him and threw her arms around him, planting a huge drunken kiss on his lips. He stood there awkwardly, not quite sure how to handle the situation, until she fell from his lips and into his arms. "Thank you for watching Rose, I REALLY needed tonight." She reached into her pocket and pulled out an exorbitant amount of cash and tried to thrust it into his hand. He politely tried to reject it, but she forced it into his pockets.
"You're very welcome, Jackie." He said quietly.
She grinned sloppily, "Alright, goodnight Mr. Smith." She stumbled down the hallway to her bedroom. He pulled the crumpled money out of his pockets and set it on the table next to the door.
He stood there another moment, taking in the familiar living room one last time, then he drew in a breath, walked out the door, and shut it behind him.