I really, really, really shouldn't start another story, because I am truly horrible at finishing stories, but this idea hit me and I couldn't resist.

Once upon a time-Don't look like that, Tony. All the good stories begin with "Once upon a time." All of them. I know there are stories with princesses that start like that, but there are stories with dragons as well. Dragons and monsters and such. No, I can't promise you monsters in this story. Not quite yet. You might have to wait a bit.

Anyway.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Don't make a face. It'll get stuck like that and then Mum'll blame me. She wasn't a princess, Tony. She had blonde hair, yes, but that doesn't make a girl a princess. This girl lived in a small flat and had trouble opening the jam jar-yeah, like me. She was ordinary, and she knew it, and she wanted something more than her simple life. She had a loving mum and a sweet boyfriend, and part of her thought that she should be content, but she never was.

One day, a prince-no, a lord, but we'll call him a prince-came up and swept her into his life of danger. He was a lord, but his palace had burned to the ground, and now he was-um, remember that movie we saw? Robin Hood? That Disney one with the talking fox? He was like that. He was a good man, but his only home was his ship.

The girl fell in love with him. Completely and utterly, because he was good and kind and brave and funny, and maybe he rolled his eyes at her once or twice, but his heart was in the right place. Oh, Tony, don't make a face. Love is a big part of all stories.

But then her prince came close to death at the hands of the ones who had burnt his home, and the ordinary girl had to save him. In doing so, she changed him so much that she thought the prince she loved was gone for good.

Except he wasn't. He was different, yes, but there were still bits of him that were the same. M-maybe he talked a bit more-I'm not crying, Tony, I'm just cold. It's just a cold. I'm okay, sweetheart. Anyway, maybe he talked a bit more, and maybe he was a bit handsomer, and maybe his ears didn't stick out quite as endearingly, but he was still her prince. And he learned to love her, just as she relearned loving him.

But then the girl got lost, and her prince couldn't find her. They met one last time, to say goodbye, but they couldn't touch each other. I don't know how. You come up with why they couldn't touch each other.

He wasn't a zombie! He was fine! I know I said that you should come up with something, but I didn't mean that he was a zombie. They couldn't touch each other, okay?

Anyway.

She told him she loved him, but he disappeared before he could tell her that he loved her. And the girl's heart was broken, because over the time she had spent with her prince he had become her life, silly though it was.

Two years passed. The girl went back to her mum and she got to spend time with her new little brother and she had money now, lots of it, but she wasn't happy. She felt like she should be, because she had everything an ordinary person could ever want. But that was just it. She wasn't ordinary anymore.

And then, against the odds, she found her prince again. She fought her way to him across whole worlds, because he was worth it and she loved him more completely than she had ever loved anyone. What? Oh, yeah, the boyfriend. She and him split up way back.

But when she found him, he nearly died again. She was so scared that she would lose him, but instead, somehow, because this is only a story, Tony, he created another him. Only this him was a little bit different, and she knew in her heart that it wasn't him.

Her prince could never stay with her. He didn't do domestic, and both of them knew that, however hard she tried to deny it. So he left her with the other him, on a beach in Norway, and she cried.

Then she kissed the man-who-was-not her-prince because he said that he loved her, and she could pretend it was him if she closed her eyes. But she couldn't be with him, even though he did love her, and she could have him forever, because he was not her prince. He was a copy, just like on the Xerox machines that Mum always tells you not to play with. And she couldn't be with someone who would be a reminder of the life that she'd lost.

Three more years passed. The man-who-was-not-her-prince left to rebuild his ship. She never saw him again.

And that's the end of the story, Tony. Now, do you think that the girl made the right choice?

"No," replied Rose's five-year-old brother.

They were sitting on the sofa together, Rose's legs bent under her and Tony snuggled into her side. She was babysitting him, and she had thought that maybe the advice of a child would help her a bit. Phrasing it as a story made it seem less real, but it also made her seem like a bit of a picky person. Him, and no other. The Doctor, and not the metacrisis.

"Why not?" asked Rose.

"'Cos he loved her, and she loved him, and there was only a few differences, so why couldn't they be together?" asked Tony. "Also your story was boring. Can I have a cookie?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Not happening. It's seven-thirty. Bedtime."

"Aww, Roooose!" groaned Tony dramatically. "Just a bit longer?"

"I promised Mum and Dad, remember?"

"No."

"You don't want to, or you don't remember?"

"Both!" said the suddenly sulky young boy. "Please, just a bit longer?"

"Come on, up you get." Rose carefully lifted Tony up into her arms.

"I'm not-" -here Tony stifled a yawn- "-tired, I swear, Rose!"

"Still." Rose walked up the stairway out of the third-floor living room (they had a great deal of living rooms, but this one was Tony's personal relaxation room) and into Tony's bedroom, placing her sleepy brother on his bed. "Night night, don't let the bedbugs bite."

"Then they'll infect me and I'll bite you, Rose! RAWR!" Tony stood up on the bed, overbalanced, and would have cracked his head on the headboard if Rose hadn't grabbed his hands and lowered him firmly down again.

"No midnight snacks, no getting up, and if you eat any more toothpaste I tell Mum, got it?"

"Got it!" replied Tony brightly.

Rose ran a hand through his blonde curls and smiled at him. Being with Tony was the only time she felt like she had when she traveled with the Doctor. "Night."

Tony snuggled under the covers. "Night. Don't kiss me. I'm a bedbug."

"Works for me," sang out Rose playfully, carefully shutting the door behind her and heading down to the second floor, which was where her bedroom was located. Her smile vanished as soon as the door was shut, and the cloud of misery that had been hanging over her for five years now came back with a vengeance.

She sunk down onto another expensive sofa on the second floor and buried her face in her hands. Part of her wished badly that she hadn't turned away the metacrisis, but another part of her knew that she could never love the metacrisis for who he was. Only who he reminded her of.

She could still see him, clutching the TARDIS coral, saying, "I'm about to start growing it, Rose, maybe you could come over and visit sometime, I've got a flat with doors and a carpet and everyth-" and she had cut him off, saying, "We can't do this" with horrible finality.

And then she heard it.

The whoosh of the TARDIS.

Reviews? As I'm only just starting up the story this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest are going to be.

-The Eclectic Bookworm