A/N This is an AU, dealing with a different Doctor, and therefore a slightly different Rose.
The prologue is told through an OC, but rest assured this OC won't be making a reappearance, the story will revolve almost singularly around the Doctor and Rose.
Collaboration with gooseberrie.

Disclaimer: We do not, in any shape or form, own Doctor Who. This counts for any following additions to this story, which we do own.

Prologue:

Downtown New York, 1662.

She sits alone at the bar, nursing a whiskey and definitely not thinking about him. This place is sketchier than she's used to, but she really doesn't feel up to facing one of the nicer ones in the town where she normally goes – went, she shakes herself mentally – with him and dammit, she really needs to get her mind somewhere else.

"Another one, please," she says in the vague direction of the bartender, pointedly ignoring his leer as he replies "Sure thing, sweetheart". He looks like he could be old enough to be her father, and then some.

Then, as though he appeared out of nowhere, there's a man sitting on the stool next to hers. He's hunched over so she can't see his face, and she's almost certain he couldn't have been quiet enough for her not to notice him, not in the silent expanse of the deserted bar.

"The usual," she hears, mumbled from the broad expanse of leather-clad back turned towards her, sees the creepy bartender nod and turn to grab the vodka and gin at the same time. A serious drinker, then, she thinks, and on a Tuesday night as well. Then again, if he's desperate enough to be a regular in this sorry excuse for an establishment, she shouldn't really be so surprised. And then screw it, she thinks, because she seriously needs something to take her mind off – well - to take her mind off everything.

"Aren't you quite the mystery man," she begins, in a tone that suggests she's going to continue. And then, " – um." she finishes lamely, as the man turns around. She can't be blamed, she thinks, because when she got it into her head to start a conversation with this guy, she wasn't certainly wasn't expecting this. Slicked back hair, defined bones, a long throat, and – was that an ear piercing? He's good-looking – unfairly so, almost.

"Did you want something?" he asks, in a gravelly voice that suits him somehow, and when she looks up from her drinks, she can feel her face heating up under his intense gaze. In among the jumble of thoughts, she can't help but notice that his eyes appear to take up more than half of his face, huge and chocolate and saucer-like.

"I – um – I – " she stutters, but he's leaning into her space and murmuring into her ear.

"You have really pretty eyes, - " he says, trailing off with a question in his voice.

"L-Lucy, my name's Lucy." she supplies, and he flashes her a smile that she thinks is just unreasonable, and she feels her breath hitch as he whispers.

"They look like the sky and the sea mixed together, Lucy."

The line is so ridiculous and dreamy, it sounds like he learned it out of one of his mother's cheesy romance novels, but it's working – she hates to admit it, but it is. After all the recent trouble she's had with her boyfriend she really is considering the possibility of a one night stand – one night only, since the likes of him didn't end up with the likes of her – and despite his obvious efforts there was no meaning in his voice, no light in his eyes as he spoke to her. "Thank you," she stutters again, cursing herself for her inability to remain coherent in this man's presence. He seems to like the effect he's having on her, and Lucy feels certain that he gets this a lot.

"Shall we take this conversation elsewhere...?" he suggests, and Lucy is following him immediately, telling herself that this is exactly what she needs. He seems around the same age as her as well, 19 or 20, or at least he looks that way at first glance, and she'd rather take this chance while she has it rather than find herself stuck with an older man again.

They wind up in her shabby apartment and in the morning he is gone without a trace, and the bed next to her is still warm. She didn't expect anything else, really. And anyway, the assistant in the corner shop has been blushing at her for a while now and she thinks it is finally time to take him up on his offer.

Two years later, when she is happily married and has almost forgotten the events of that night – almost, but not quite, she sees him again. At first she tells herself that its stupid, as she only saw him in the half light of the bar and later her apartment, but she would recognise that face anywhere – it was the kind of face that went by unnoticed, unless you gave it a proper glance, and then you saw the distinctive cheekbones, the hooded eyes. He was slouching by one of the bins, lighting his cigarette. He doesn't put it to his lips though, merely looks at the way the smoke bleeds out of the end. Lucy has an unshakeable feeling he has seen her, even though his eyes never once drift in her direction. Cigarette falling to the floor, he is gone, not looking back. While he is turning though, Lucy catches a glimpse of his eyes. She could swear they were slightly red, the red that came from bottling tears up inside you long and hard, until they were so cramped they were fighting to get out.

It was all her intuition though. Perhaps he was perfectly fine, and she was just inferring things as usual. Thinking back, Lucy couldn't even be sure that it was him. Either way, it wasn't her business to worry about a near stranger she'd seen on the street corner. She just hoped that whatever was troubling him would soon come to an end.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that wouldn't happen for a long, long time.

A/N Hopefully regular updates. Please let us know what you think, all comments appreciated.