Lost, Mislaid, Misplaced.

Disclaimer: Ain't mine.
Rating: Ehhh... PG-13? Wait, I mean uhhh K?

When Rose disappears after Doomsday, there's only two people left in her dimension of Earth, that know what she was really doing, and who she was with. Sarah Jane Smith, and Captain Jack Harkness. It's up to the Doctor, to tell them how he lost her.(or not tell them, as the case may be)

The Doctor could have been sulking, pouting, whining, and generally moping, in the misery of losing Rose. (And yes, it did hurt. Not as much as accidentally blowing up Gallifrey – turned out, he hadn't actually meant to do that. Opps. - but it was pretty damn close.)

'Technically,' he thought, 'I haven't actually lost her. Well, ok yes. I did lose her. In the general sense of the word. Misplaced. Mislaid. Quite possibly lost… but on the bright side of things, she isn't dead……'

There were only two people on Earth, in Rose's universe, and in her time, that knew where she'd been, and who she'd been with. So out of kindness to humanity, being a good natured citizen and all that hoopla, the Doctor thought it might be decent of him to inform them of the recent non-fatal demise of Rose.

One was Jack ('Ohh that was going to be fun.') and the other was Sarah Jane. ('Not particularly looking forward to that either,' the Doctor mused.).

Unfortunately, instead of actually going to inform them, of the latest misplacement of one Rose Tyler, the Doctor was instead, trying to think of more than three words to describe the act of losing a person. In the technical sense, not the deader than a doorknob sense. (Or was it door nail?)

'Really,' he thought, although he was glad Rose was alive, (Because he really did love her madly. Passionately. Deeply. Desperately.) it was almost unfortunate that she hadn't died. Because he could think of at least 9 different idioms for being dead. Pushing up the daisies. Meeting your maker. Stone dead. Feeding the worms. Nail in the coffin. Bite the dust. Breathe your last. Dead and buried. Given up the ghost. Actually, ten, if you counted deader than a doorknob. And if the doornail one was real, then that made eleven…. Though, he'd rather stick to ten. He really quite liked that number.

So all in all, it would have been in everyone's best interests if she'd died, instead of inconveniently deciding to go and get sucked off into a parallel universe.

He really wanted to kick a door, or punch a wall right now.

And what the hell was he supposed to say to Jack?

'Jack! I'm SO sorry we abandoned you to your possible death up there on that space station, but I was being selfish, and wanted to regenerate in the comfort of my TARDIS…. Yes, we really should have come back for you, but oh well! Here I am now. Speaking of which, I lost Rose.'

Ridiculous. It was like admitting to the person you were dog sitting for (not that he'd EVER done any dog sitting. Ever.) that you'd accidentally misplaced (Lost. Mislaid.) their precious pet poodle. (It wasn't his fault that the dog had seen another poodle and gone off to have copious amounts of dog sex, and he couldn't handle the thought of having to walk in on that. And really! Who puts a time lord in charge of a dog? Preposterous.)

And Sarah Jane. That could only end badly. She'd slap him. He just knew, that she'd slap him. It was one thing to leave a companion behind… but to actually lose (Misplace. Mislay) one? Unacceptable. It was like losing your wallet. Except much much worse.

Or like losing your baby. That was definitely something he could say he'd never done. (Except that one time back on Gallifrey, when he'd been looking after his infant son, and accidentally misplaced (Lost. Mislaid) him in the food market. Technically, not his fault.)

And he'd found him. He couldn't find Rose. Well, technically, yes he could. Because he knew where she was. It was more a matter of not being able to actually get there. Damn technicalities.

Oh, Jack was going to KILL him. He'd always had a soft spot for Rose (The Doctor had several suspicions about what Jack really wanted, and they all involved some form of throwing Rose up against a wall and having vast amounts of sex. But he refused to think about that, because luckily, he'd lost Rose, so Jack wouldn't be getting any.)

Maybe if he sent him a letter. People wrote letters all the time giving bad news. It was a little harsh… but that couldn't be helped. Yes, a letter would work.

Dear Jack.

I'm sorry we left you behind. It was unkind, cruel, and completely unnecessary (except for the part where I needed you to rebuild the world, etc etc.).

If I'd been thinking straight (which I wasn't, as I'd just kissed Rose – GO ME!) I might have considered how it would affect you, and your self esteem. I hope that we didn't damage your ego too much. (And if we did, well it was pretty big to start with, so you should be ok.)

I'm writing to you, because I have to give you some terrible (unfortunate) news.

I might possibly (just maybe) have irretrievably misplaced (Lost. Mislaid.) Rose.

If you know of a way, or find a way for me (or you, as long as you give her back) to get to a parallel universe, could you please let me know, as even though I'm a brilliant, genius time lord, I'm a little bit stumped on this one.

Anyway, have a nice day, and I hope to see you again soon.

All my love (but not the dirty kind, not matter what anyone says),

The Doctor.

P.S. If I do see you again, I feel that it's my duty to inform you that I have regenerated, and I look completely different. So if you look too angry upon seeing the TARDIS appear, I may pretend to not be the Doctor.

See? That would work. And he could just avoid the 21st century for a few decades, and hopefully Jack would never catch up with him to kill (Maim. Mutilate. Slaughter. Execute. Destroy. Exterminate. Eradicate.) him.

Now, if only telling Sarah Jane was as easy.

'Girls,' the Doctor thought, 'are more trouble than they're worth.' (Except Rose. Because she was perfect. Even more perfect now that she was gone (Lost. Mislaid. Misplaced.) and wasn't cluttering the console room with makeup and shoes.)

A letter wasn't going to cut it with Sarah Jane. No, she'd say that a letter was an inadequate and wimpy way to tell someone bad news. Of course, she probably wouldn't use the word wimpy…. But that was all that the Doctor could think of on the spot.

Actually, the mere thought of having to go and tell Sarah Jane that he'd lost (Misplaced. Mislaid.) Rose, was enough to make him want to try to find her again. Add to that, the fact that he probably couldn't tell Jack in a letter, and would therefore have to go and tell him too… and the Doctor was definitely on his way to coming up with some kind of brilliantly genius plan to rescue Rose, and in turn, save the universe from the possible demise of the only Time Lord still in existence.

He was also pretty sure that this would make for a great storyline in some kind of TV show. 'Save the blonde companion. Save the World.' Not that that had much flow to it. 'If only Rose had been a cheerleader.'

So. What to do. What to do, what to do, what to do.

'Oh!' the Doctor exclaimed to himself, in his own mind, as he'd just recently discovered the joys of talking to oneself. 'Oh! I could ask Jack! Jack might know…. Oh.'

That was when he remembered the various ways of regeneration that Jack might force upon him, if he told him that he'd inadvertently lost (Mislaid. Misplaced.) Rose….

Thank GOD he didn't have to tell Jackie. That was all he had to say on the matter. Except that he'd really quite like to rescue Rose, and throw her against a wall and have his sweet way with her… (thinking about Jack's previously possible plans with Rose, had given the Doctor some plans of his own. With Rose, not Jack, because the Doctor didn't care how many loonies out there on the internet thought that he should screw Jack, it just wasn't going to happen. Unless he couldn't get Rose back. Then, he might consider it. Might.)

And then, suddenly, quite without warning, the Doctor had an idea.

It wasn't just any idea… it certainly wasn't a plain, old, boring idea. Ohhhh no. No, THIS, was the idea to out-idea all other ideas. This was brilliant. Magnificent. Fantastic. Outstanding. Superb. Excellent. Marvelous. Undeniably, the most excellent scheme that the Doctor had ever thought of.

So he picked up a banana, and sat back down to eat it. After all, bananas contained high quantities of potassium. And what good was potassium, if not for thinking of ways to save Rose, save the world, and hopefully, save himself from a painful death/regeneration at the hands of Girlfriend Stealing Whore Jack, as the Doctor had now named him.

The Banana, the Doctor assured himself, would save the day.