Author's Notes: I know not everyone reads the notes at the beginning of a fanfiction, but please read these – they are very important. Check my profile for the preview video for this story. When you read this story I have to tell you, please remember one thing: this is Doctor Who. As in, time and space are at the core of it all. Sometimes, it will seem as though moments are skipped, opportunities missed, or middles left untold – this is intentional. Sometimes, things will be revisited from different angles, with a different level of knowledge, and at times I leave things up to your own uniquely crafted imagination.

I can tell you the colour of a planet, how big or small it is, how many populate it, what food they eat, or even right down to the texture of the grains of sand forming the ground beneath their feet – and other times you'll hardly know more than its name. When I give you information, your own mind and imagination will do something with it – you'll visualise; hear voices without using your ears, imagine places you've never seen, and form pathways from words alone that enable a story to make sense. This is a journey, and each of you will see it just a little bit differently. There will come a time when I'll tell you everything about a planet, or very little yet always a name – until one incident where I won't. The planet without a name. I'm telling you a story about a Time Lord and his son, who travel in space and time. A story of love, pain, longing, joy, danger, wishes, and mystery. A story of family, impossible choices, and hopeful wonder. I am a writer – it's what I do. I write fanfiction for fun, but I write novel series as my overall passion. I won't tell you which writer I am – you probably haven't heard of me yet. But you will; one day, you will know.

Until then, please enjoy this story of a lonely Time Lord who begins a journey to never being lonely again.

Chapter One ~ Importance

The beach. Of course it would be a beach; a place where he was mesmerised by the way water and ground met - the way two separate entities coincided at a single area. Much like a human and an alien. Yes, a beach was a fitting place to say goodbye. Except, he hated goodbyes – despised them too much, yet there he was burning up a sun just to say goodbye to Rose Tyler. She was someone he'd hoped to never say goodbye to for a very long time.

He wasn't ready, and the tears tracking down her face reminded him no one was ever really ready.

'Am I ever going to see you again?' She asked, her eyes flooding emotion faster than her tears.

Her face was sad and scared, but the tiniest shred of hope still shone in her eyes. There was something else in her gaze – some other pain he'd rarely seen before, but the Doctor couldn't quite figure it out.

'You can't.' He said, watching as hope dimmed.

'What're you going to do?'

Every word, and every breath, hurt. It hurt him because she was hurting – goodbyes always hurt. Still, this goodbye – he owed her that much.

'Oh, I've got the Tardis.' He tried to reassure her, and absorbed his own reminder that he wasn't losing everything today. 'Same old life, last of the Time Lords.'

'On your own.'

The Doctor inhaled a quick breath, willing himself to keep it together, as he nodded. She hurt for him, as he did for her. The seconds continued to tick away at their goodbye, though Rose's eyes already echoed a terrible loss in her tearful eyes. If time hadn't been so short, perhaps he'd have asked her about it. Was she losing more than him and their adventures together? He didn't know, but damn it hurt.

Everything about it ached so much.

'His name is Michael.' Rose said hurriedly, as if realising time was shortening with each breath they shared. 'I-I love you.'

Her tears, her pain, her hopelessness – all of that agonised him. And yet there is was; her love, acceptance, and admittance of both in a few words. He smiled, and it was then he knew they were going to be okay.

'Quite right, too.' He nodded. 'And I suppose, if it's one last chance to say it, Rose Tyler-'

He was in the Tardis.

Rose was gone, forever to him; he'd been just a few seconds too late. He supposed maybe it was better that way, but the tears sliding silently down his own cheeks said otherwise. He was a Time Lord – closure wasn't for him. It was for them.

Always for them.

He walked around the console, absorbing the last of the pain and shock, before the peace was interrupted by the impossible appearance of a red-haired woman dressed in white. In the blink of an eye, the raw emotions were pushed aside so he could deal with the baffling scenario presented to him. He met Donna Noble, and a whirlwind of events followed. A racnoss, and a runaway bride, were decent distractions. Until they too were gone, and silence filled the Tardis once more.

How many times was he going to step inside and find it empty? It was quiet, with just him, and colder in a way he knew came from the loneliness that swept through this beloved ship. The last of the Time Lords, living a life of cold and quiet emptiness - except for those warmer and noisier moments when he's not.

He flew the Tardis back into space, just drifting for a while, to gather his thoughts. The pain returned – he remembered her face, that beautiful face, once smiling and now crying. She was going to be with him forever, but the Doctor knew nothing lasted forever.

Not a single thing in all of time and space lasted forever.

While thinking on the last moment he'd shared with Rose on the beach, of course a beach, the Doctor frowned at one blip of oddity in their farewell. He mentally re-sorted through every second of the catch-up and goodbye, ending with words that didn't need to be spoken - yet there was one tiny bit he re-circled.

'His name is Michael?' The Doctor creased his expression with utter confusion. 'Who is Michael?'

His mind spiralled with rational answers and insane ones, each tying together to figure out what Rose had said to him that was so important she'd risked missing her chance to tell him she loved him. He rubbed his hands through his hair with frustration, having no idea what she was talking about, and paced around the console like the madman he always called himself.

Halting suddenly, the Doctor looked up and wondered. The look in her eyes; a premature loss. Her heart broke for him, for their journey ending, and yet something equally as painful already occurred in that moment or just before. Michael was important, whoever he was, and the Doctor worried the person was perhaps more important than anyone else to Rose. He worried because she had to tell him – she needed him to know about Michael, but he had no idea who she was referring to. He didn't know what she was trying to tell him, or what he was supposed to do.

Who was Michael?

The Tardis gave a jolt as it steered against an asteroid. The Doctor grabbed his chair to right himself, but was too lost in thought to take further notice of his surroundings. However, someone else had noticed the jerked movement; he was not as alone as he'd assumed. A piercing cry echoed from somewhere within the Tardis, startling the Doctor so much it took him a moment to realise it was the wail of a baby.

'What?' The Doctor frowned, looking wildly around for the source of the sound. 'A baby? Here? In the Tardis? There's a baby in the Tardis? What?'

At first he fiddled with the console, trying to locate and understand what was going on. He rambled to himself, fiddling levers and pressing buttons, but the Tardis gave few answers. Thinking the source was further away, he started running – everywhere. Realising the source was further away, he started running – everywhere. He checked rooms, corridors, the swimming pool, broom closets, the library, the kitchen – every area of the Tardis he could find. Finally, almost out of breath, he skidded back into the main room and returned to the console.

The crying had stopped.

'How many lifeforms are there on board right now?' He wanted to know, initiating a scan.

He didn't need the reply, however, as he looked over to see the outline of a door appearing far opposite him. The Doctor hurried to it once a knob appeared, and yanked it wide open. It wasn't a very big room, though he didn't care about its appearance when all he could focus on was a large bed in the center – where a blonde-haired, brown-eyed baby lay wrapped in a blanket.

'Oh!' The Doctor gasped, moving closer to have a look at the infant. 'Hello.'

The baby looked up at him, waving his tiny hand almost as if to return the greeting, and made a soft sound.

'Did the Tardis scare you?' The Doctor asked, bending to lift up the small form.

He kept the baby warm and cradled him in offer of comforting reassurance. He carried the infant back to the main room, not noticing the room re-vanishing, and continued to stare at him with marvel.

'Not to worry; she didn't mean to. You're okay.' He said. 'But...Where did you come from? Where's your-? Oh.'

Realisation dawned on him. It wasn't the delightful sensation of figuring out something interesting, but an almost-sickening feeling of utter inevitability. The blonde hair, the familiar face on the tiny new bundle of life, and the remembrance of the look of loss in such similar eyes. There was no expression of loss greater than a parent for a child. Staring at the baby, he just knew. He knew, and it hurt more than a thousand goodbyes he could have had with her.

Rose left behind more than a memory – she left behind her child. Her little baby boy.

'But, how?' He gained no additional answers. 'I would have noticed. What?'

The baby made a sound, still watching him as intently as the Doctor returned. The brown of the eyes weren't from Rose, not entirely, and it made him furthermore uncertain.

'You look so much like her.' He smiled, though tears welled in his eyes again. 'So much.'

He sank into his chair, holding the most precious form of life in his arms, feeling only a mixture of awe and remorse. He'd fought so hard for Jackie and Rose; he'd tried his best to make sure mother and child weren't separated. And, at the end of it all, somehow a mother and a child were still torn apart forever.

'I'm sorry.' He told the baby, holding the bundle close. 'I am so sorry.'

The Doctor wasn't sure what to do next. Rose and Jackie were on the list of dead back in London, and had no other family he knew of. He couldn't easily let her child go, though, not when the infant was so very important.

'Important.' He looked down at the baby with renewed understanding. 'Oh? OH! Of course! His name is Michael. You're Michael!'

A bright light erupted from the Tardis, enveloping the room in a golden glow, and an image of Rose flickered into appearance beside the console. He knew right away it was a hologram delivering a message, but seeing her face was still a stab of guilt-ridden pain and sadness either way.

'Doctor?' Holo-Rose spoke. 'Doctor?'

'I'm here.' He replied quietly, even if it was unnecessary.

'Yeah, that's right.' Holo-Rose smiled. 'I figured out this message thing. How do I look? Anyway, haven't got a lot of time. Just wanted to say, I hope you never see this. I hope I never lose you.'

'That's your mum.' He told the baby in his arms, without lifting his eyes from what he was sure would be the last pure image he'd ever see her face. He never wanted to forget the sound of her voice. 'Clever, she is. Absolutely brilliant.'

'But – just in case.' Holo-Rose continued. 'You need to know; his name is Michael. I had a baby! Me, a mum! Can you believe it? Mum's a grandma now, says it makes her feel old. She was there, my mum, when I had him. It's a boy; I have a son.'

'Yes, you did.' He said with shared pride. 'A beautifully healthy son.' The Doctor quickly glanced at the baby, who had drifted to sleep despite the lights and talking going on around him.

'You're probably wondering how you missed it?' Holo-Rose practically read his thoughts, though he rationalised that she merely knew him so well. 'You were gone, remember? You said nine days, but it was nine months. Then everything happened. It was freezing – I wore that big jacket to keep warm. You hid us on the Tardis while you saved the world again, and I had a baby.'

'Oh!' The Doctor gasped. 'Nine months? Really? But that's after...'

'And the baby - he's yours.' Holo-Rose revealed. 'One night, eh? That's all it takes, isn't it? There was no one else – there wasn't anyone else after I met you. My Doctor. He's yours - the son of a Time Lord. You're not the only one anymore; you'll never be alone again.'

'No.' He frowned, staring at the sleeping child secured in his arms. 'No, it can't be. Oh, but he is.'

The Doctor knew, from the moment she'd said it, that her words were the absolute truth. The boy with her features and blonde hair, yet the brown of his eyes. The baby had a stare so deep and searching for a being so small and new.

A gaze with the depths of the universe – the eyes of a Time Lord.

'But...That's impossible!' He gaped, looking back up at the hologram. It flickered and faded, as though it had been interrupted. 'No. Rose! No, no, no, no no!' He held the baby close and used a free hand to hit the controls of the console, rushing around to try to bring her back. Sparks erupted from the controls, but she was gone. Again. Yet, not entirely.

'Michael Tyler.' He smiled at the sleeping son in his hands.

There was nothing more to say, and a million things to think. Hours would pass before he moved, before he spoke again, but for those many hours the Doctor simply sat there holding an impossible baby. A child conceived and born on the Tardis – a child hybrid of human and Time Lord. A child who, by all rules the Doctor thought he'd known, shouldn't exist. And yet, somehow, Michael Tyler did.

Of all the things the Doctor had ever seen, he knew the sleeping image of his newborn son was the most important one of all.