This is not the official sequel to "The Consequences of Dreaming", but is a companion piece that is both prequel and sequel (timey-wimey, right?) It can be read as standalone up to the last chapter, which contains major spoilers for TCOD.

Had It Right the First Time

Chapter 1

"'Simple and easy', is it?"

The screech came out of nowhere and the Doctor nearly fumbled his sonic screwdriver. Oh, he was going to burn those slippers of hers. He swore Jackie wore them around constantly on purpose, just so she could sneak up on him.

He looked up to find her just inside the doorway, a glowering peroxide goblin. "I must've been mad to believe you could upgrade that security system without destroying half my foyer!"

He glared back but guilt kept him quiet. For once he knew exactly what she was on about.

The mansion's foyer was a lovely, high-ceilinged antechamber, not over-large but quite grand all the same, purposefully designed to make an impression. And to be fair, at the moment it still would, just, well, probably less for grandeur and more for its resemblance to a crime scene.

A glittering sea of metal components, rolls of coiled wire, tools, and bits and bobs that used to be part of the security panel made the floor virtually impassable, and the Doctor sat cross-legged in the middle of all of it, like some sort of blue pinstriped island. Next to the archway that led into the house was a gaping hole in the wall from which frayed wires poked haphazardly, all bent and twisted, as if the control panel had been ripped away in a fit of rage. Powdery chunks of drywall had fallen from the hole, coating the floor around them in a fine, white dust.

The Doctor gave the back of his neck a quick scratch. "I ended up having to reconfigure and rebuild the motherboard entirely, and since it wouldn't work with the original panel anymore I..." He paused. Jackie's face was like stone. "Why am I explaining myself to you?" he went on, gesturing dismissively before picking up the parts he'd dropped. "I know what I'm doing!"

Her hands went to her hips. "So what you're saying is that you meant for this to be a disaster? Look at this! And me with guests coming in just over an hour. How am I supposed to get them into the blinking house?" griped Jackie, as she gingerly picked her way a few steps closer to him.

"Well," mumbled the Doctor, eyeing her and wisely refraining from pointing out that the massive house had no less than half a dozen side and back entrances. "I could finish up much faster if you'll send Rose in-"

"Sorry, Doctor," said Jackie brusquely. "But I'm beyond busy getting things ready and now I'll need Rose to mind Tony. Unless you want him out here too, helpin' you?"

Wait, what? No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He'd been counting on having help; he had, in fact, precisely calculated this level of chaos with exactly that in mind. And while he had accounted for possible distractions, there was only time for the giggling, teasing, whispering variety. And nowhere near enough for five hundred give that here's and sorry, Jackie, but we need to make an A&E run because I'm pretty sure he's swallowed a fuse.

"But... wait. You're cooking? he asked, going a tiny bit bug-eyed. "Where's Alice?" The elderly housekeeper was one of the few staff Jackie kept on and the Doctor adored her, all lovely and doting and fond of him. Not to mention the maker of delicious nibbles.

"Off," said Jackie pointedly, as if he were being deliberately slow. "What are you implying, Doctor, that I can't do a simple lunch for only three guests? Never had servants on the Estate, did I? And like I said, they'll be here in a hour, so can you get this done in time on your own or not? Or I guess I could send Pete-"

"Nope, no, that's fine," said the Doctor hastily, eyes widening. "All under control. I've already finished the system modifications. I just, I just need to put it all back together." He took up his sonic, focusing it on the components in his lap and ignoring her until he heard her leave. Then he set it all gently on the floor, looked at the disarray surrounding him, and sighed.

Where had he gone wrong? He'd had it all plotted out; set into a nice little algebraic equation and everything.

Guests(jackie+pete)+chaos=(doctor+rose)+chaos. Chaos gets subtracted from both sides, everybody ends up happy. The elder Tyler's get their lovely little social hour. The Doctor gets a whole morning alone with Rose.

Now it seemed like all he'd be getting was a morning alone.

He'd miscalculated.

Again.

He just couldn't understand it. In spite of this incarnation's inordinate fondness for words (or the sound of his own voice, if you went by Rose's opinion on the matter) the Doctor had always been more of a numbers person.

No matter where he was in any universe, no matter when, they were his one constant. Mathematics was always reliable and endlessly useful, having applications everywhere- astronomy, science and technology, predictions and probabilities. Everything, complex and simple, had a formula and he could solve them all with ease. For example, he knew that although this new body was only 89.56% Time Lord, he was still 100% him. He could calculate the odds of his other self ever coming back here (billion to one) and predict precisely how far he can push Jackie without risking bodily harm.

He never met a variable he didn't like.

Until now.

Well, it wasn't as if he didn't like her. Quite the opposite actually, which was exactly his problem. It just seemed like no matter what he tried to accomplish these days- no matter how meticulous his plan or how solid his equation- once Rose Tyler (r) was added in, he'd get an unexpected result every time. Even with something as basic as, say, doctor+breakfast. Toss in that one little r, and the next thing he knows he's burning the toast.

To not add her in- well, it was impossible, wasn't it? She occupied his mind constantly, intoxicating him when she was present and distracting him even when she wasn't. It had never been (quite) this bad when they were traveling together, and their current situation had it worsening by the day. The Doctor wasn't sure if the issue had more to do with his body's new dash of humanity or the fact that he was now pursuing more with Rose just as desperately (and ineffectively?) as he used to be avoiding it.

It was pointless to even try and deduce the ratios.

Worse, all these silly mistakes had him feeling increasingly insecure. Not that he'd executed all tasks with flawless perfection before he'd come to live here, but he was used to being impressive. It was part of what made him the Doctor.

He knew who he was, impressive or no, but he was so scared that he was giving Rose yet another reason to doubt him. He knew Pete Tyler was unsure, still sizing him up, wondering if he was maybe not quite the dynamic, brilliant alien who had freed the city from Lumic and his Cybers with an almost swaggering confidence and bravado, the hero who'd so recently returned the stars to the sky.

At least Jackie treated him the same as she always had. But then, she'd never been that impressed with him in the first place.

Bottom line- this problem was bound to continue until he figured Rose out.

No, figured them out.

d(r)=?

He was hopelessly in love with her, and he still didn't know where they stood.

By the time Pete came out to check on things the Doctor had nearly everything back in order.

"Well, this certainly looks impressive," said the older man, watching the Doctor finish the last of the programming, fingers running expertly over the sleek new touchscreen.

"It is," replied the Doctor, thrilled to pass inspection without any arguments. A few of the components he'd used, including the main monitoring panel in the foyer, could pass for Earth-made but weren't and he had wondered if Pete would let it go. Having had only bad alien encounters over the last few years, this world was going through a particularly xenophobic period, and owning off-world items could be dangerous. "I'd say that we can all rest easier," he continued. "Once activated, no uninvited guests, human or alien, will be able to enter the house undetected. That applies even if the being's form is non-corporeal, and Rose'll back me up when I tell you that those do exist. I've set it so that by the alarm's tone you will know instantly what you're dealing with, and if the code isn't entered within two minutes a call for help will be placed to the authorities. Or Torchwood. You know, whichever applies most."

Pete nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Oh, least I could do. Don't know why I haven't gotten to this before now."

He did know, however. Pete had been doing his level best to keep the Doctor busy since his arrival more than two weeks ago, probably because he knew the Doctor's reputation and didn't want anything blown up. Not that the Doctor minded the tinkering but for once in his life he hadn't been bored, not for a single second. How could he be, with Rose to stare at and talk to and try to make laugh? Hoping everyday that maybe if she laughs enough that look in her eyes will go away, the one that's been like a wall between them.

"No harm done." Pete grabbed the broom from where it stood against the wall and began sweeping up the last remnants of dust. "Though I must admit, I will sleep better. Latest stats came in from Torchwood this morning. Alien activity's up 12% over what it was in March, which is the sharpest increase I've ever seen in a single 30 day span."

His tone was ever so slightly accusatory and the Doctor's jaw tightened. Pete obviously suspected that the increase was his fault, that somehow his mere presence was attracting trouble. Only the fact that the man may very well be correct on that point kept a snide comment from escaping.

He rested his weight against the wall and changed the subject. "Anyway, your new system is ready for activation," he said, crossing his arms as he watched Pete bin the last of the dust. "But we should probably wait on that, yeah, since your guests should be here soon? Who are they again?" His curiosity was genuine. The Doctor had barely met a soul outside their immediate family since he'd arrived in this universe. He was pretty sure he knew the reason for this as well. Cautious man, Pete Tyler.

"Just some neighbors of ours," he replied, tucking the broom away in a cupboard. "The Valencourt's; Daniel, Beverly, and their son Andrew. Andrew promised Tony awhile ago that he'd help him build a playhouse, and it looks like today's the day. This is the first decent weather we've had since the stars came back."

"Sounds like a nice chap," said the Doctor, picturing a ten-year-old boy, maybe a skinny, acne-ridden teen. A playhouse would be a complicated project to take on, especially with the four-year-old's special brand of "help". He grinned. "Maybe I can lend them a hand."

Pete smiled blandly. "Oh, I doubt that'll be necessary."

Rose wasn't in the playroom with Tony, and the Doctor paused by an open window to see if maybe she'd taken him out back. The air sifting in was soft and warm against his face, the slight breeze ruffling his fringe. He didn't find them but it was near impossible not to be taken in by this siren song of a gorgeous day, especially as it was the first in an unbroken line of cold, rainy ones. The expanse of green grass and woods before him had as yet gone mostly unexplored, and just looking at it fueled the Doctor's ever-growing itch to run off, and far beyond the mansion's grounds. He needed to do something. He'd been stuck in one place for much longer than this before, of course, but his lifespan was severely limited now. He wasn't sure Rose would go for it, though, and he's not going anywhere without her. Not ever again, if it was entirely up to him.

He hadn't joined her when she started back to work at Torchwood this week, and the evenings when she was home were too short, and full of interruptions. He was already so tired of living here in the mansion, of trying to sort things out with Rose when curious sets of eyes and ears were ever present. But her flat really wasn't an option for the two of them yet, being as it was a studio, and tiny. On the plus side, she hadn't moved back in there yet either, which he took as a very good sign.

Question: Was it a good enough sign? He stuck a hand in his hair, fingers raking along the back of his scalp, as he recklessly considered just going for it. He could grab her hand just like when they'd first met and ask her to run, only this time meaning it with every romantic implication.

Run away with him.

Marry him.

He even had the ring; made on one of his first nights here when his head was too full and his hands too empty and he'd needed something to keep them busy. Back when he was still giddy with the delusion that his life had miraculously become some sort of a fairy tale.

He knew now that it wasn't, exactly. At least not yet. He'd known they would need time to reconnect, to get to know one another again... but he had hoped (really, really hoped) for a fair bit more snogging. But so far, all they'd managed was to settle back into the same old frustratingly platonic song and dance, only this time it was Rose doing the holding back. The much-fixated upon kiss on the beach remained a one off, and much as the Doctor tried to convince himself it was because she was adjusting, or scared, he couldn't help but worry. What if she'd decided he wasn't really the man she loved? Forever one heart and a time-machine short of what she actually wanted?

Running his thumb along the delicate curve of the bejeweled band in his pocket, he forced the negative thoughts from his mind as he walked into the quiet kitchen and finally found her- amazingly, miraculously alone. Rose, dressed in jeans and a soft blue tee, had her back to him, and fresh cut flowers lay on the countertop before her. She was in her own little world, humming some song under her breath as she snipped stems, adding bloom after colorful bloom to a clear glass vase. The line of her shoulders was relaxed and happy, and she was so beautiful that the Doctor stared, momentarily overpowered by a tidal wave of love and longing.

Feeling tight-chested and breathless, it was all he could do to not step up close behind her and slip his arms around her waist, draw her body back into his own. It would be so easy. He imagined how she might relax into his embrace, tilt her head back to smile up at him...

He swallowed. Tempting as that image was, it was not a good idea, especially when she was still just as likely to tense at such an unexpectedly romantic gesture. Too risky.

Pining it was then.

Sensing his presence, Rose turned, a long-stemmed yellow lily in one hand. Her smile on seeing him was like the sun, like he was her favourite person in the world. "Hi."

"Hello." Heart rate picking up, his answering grin surely rivaled her own for brightness. "This looks like fun," he said after a beat, tearing his eyes from her face to focus on the flowers. "I see lilacs, peonies, a few hyacinth, yeah? What you have here, Rose Tyler, is a veritable fragrance medley," he said, slow and deliberate, liking how the phrase felt on his tongue. "I could smell them way down the corridor. Bit heavy for the house, don't you think?"

"No," said Rose, turning slightly and burying her face in the softness of a full, pink peony. "I think they smell lovely, all of 'em. Well, all except for the poor daylilies," she added, looking back at him and waving the yellow bloom she held in her hand. "But they're still beautiful."

"No fragrance, you say, for old Hemerocallis?" He let his eyes sparkle at her. "Now that is entirely untrue. You just haven't been smelling them right."

She shot him a skeptical look. "A person doesn't just go about smellin' things wrong, Doctor, not unless there's something wrong with their nose."

"No, really," he insisted. "Most people just don't get close enough, is all." He leaned toward her slightly and took a long, deep sniff. "Oh, that's gorgeous!" he proclaimed. "Go on, give it a whirl."

Rose inclined the bloom toward her face and inhaled delicately through her nose. "You're so full of it. I don't smell anything."

"Now that," he said in a high tone, nose scrunching up, "what you did right there, was a prime example of a person 'smellin' things wrong.' You weren't anywhere near close enough."

"Was lots closer than you got."

"Time Lord," he said, smug as anything. "You'll need to get right in there."

She slowly put the lily back to her nose, until the tip of it disappeared into the flower. "Still don't smell anything," she sing-songed, words muffled.

"Closer!" He put his hand on hers, assisting her until she had practically jammed the petals against her face.

Coughing and giggling, Rose shoved him off. She looked down at the partially crushed flower, then back up at him, swiping at her nose. "You're daft!"

"Still nothing, then?" he asked, all angelic innocence, which had Rose instantly suspicious. She looked at him sharply.

The smirk he'd been trying to smother broke free, and was immediately followed by a snicker.

Realization dawned and Rose's jaw dropped. "I've got yellow all over my nose, don't I?" she exclaimed, and when he couldn't help but laugh she smacked his arm, hard. "Git, you did that on purpose! I can't believe I fell for it; Mickey used to try'n trick me with dandelions all the time."

"Sorry," he managed, and tried to stop laughing. "Just, hold on. Hold still." Stepping close, he cupped his palm against her cheek, and carefully cleaned all traces of pollen off her nose with his thumb. "There, all better," he said, rough-voiced, lifting his eyes to lock with hers.

"Thanks." She held his gaze and he didn't remove his hand, eyes unconsciously dropping to her full pink lips. When she took the bottom one between her teeth he caught himself, eyes snapping to hers again. Her rosy blush told him she'd noticed, but she still didn't move, and her eyes were dark, soft and inviting. Oh, that was new. And surprising. And, as he dimly registered before impulse took over, a very, very good sign.

Slow and careful, as if he might spook her, he slid his hand down to cup her jaw, and his heart thundered wildly when she responded by leaning fully into his touch. His fingers near her throat could feel her pulse racing, and then he was done for, all rationality lost to this and a sudden flood of pheromones so potent that he could no longer smell the flowers.

Emboldened, he traced her bottom lip with his thumb, and then leaned in, fully intent on following his thumb's path with his mouth.

Their breath had already mixed when he felt Rose stiffen. His weighted eyelids flew open in time to see her turn her face away, removing it from his tender grasp.

He drew a sharp breath, the heady moment shattered. For a minute he floundered, shock followed by shame, and then he badly, badly wanted to kick himself. He would never, never, get this right; not if five minutes alone with her had his brain so impaired that it made him act like this was some sort of film and he's the hero whose kiss would solve everything.

Rose had wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes falling momentarily shut in awkward embarrassment. When she finally managed to make eye contact with him again, they spoke at the same time.

"Rose, I'm sorry, I just..."

"'m so sorry..."

They both paused, smiling a little, Rose chewing her lip and the Doctor trying to decipher the look in her eyes. He was glad to see it wasn't anger, or regret, or even fear, but it was darker than that, more desperate.

Guilt.

Longing too, and more than a hint of disappointment. He let these buoy him up but the first one made no sense. What could she possibly feel guilty about?

He stepped closer to her, determined to find out. "Look, Rose," he said quietly, fixed in her wary gaze, "I don't mean to push you into anything you don't want or feel ready for, but why-"

"What's going on?" came a voice from behind them. "I thought you were getting all of this set out on the dining room table, Rose?"

Stifling a groan, the Doctor turned along with Rose to see a casually dressed Jackie marching in with Tony on her heels, her arms full of cloth napkins. She dumped them on the countertop, where they joined a pile of dishes and cutlery and serving bowls, drinking and wine glasses.

"Sorry Mum," said Rose, going over there.

"Oh, I know how it goes; the minute I leave he shows up and then you two forget anything else in the world exists."

Ignoring this, Rose piled a handful of clinking silverware on the stack of plates, then the napkins on top of all before picking the whole load up to take to the dining room.

The Doctor grabbed a few glasses and tried to follow her but Jackie snagged his arm. "Instead of distracting my daughter, you can start the salad," she said, gesturing to a pile of uncut veggies sitting beside the sink. "And use an actual knife this time, not that metal alien stick-thing you love so much."

His scowl deepened. "It's a sonic screwdriver, Jackie, sonic as in sound waves, which if you'd only think about it for half a second is much safer than -"

They were interrupted by a screeching, deafening wail, alarms blaring like the house was afire.

"What's that?" yelled Jackie, clapping her hands over her ears.

Gritting his teeth, the Doctor raced for the security panel in a nearby lounge, set in the wall beside the glass patio doors. He really should have seen this coming, he should've known everything had gone far too smoothly with installing that new bloody security system. He reached it and began keying in the sequence of numbers to shut the noise down, to no avail. After what was probably less than a minute (but seemed like forever), he gave it up as a lost cause and took his sonic to it. One quick buzz later and all was quiet.

After briefly considering just hiding out for awhile until Jackie calmed down, he decided to go back and deal with it. "Sorry," he said, sheepishly pulling an earlobe as he reentered the kitchen. "I had to shut the system off entirely, not sure what...oh. Hello."

Now he knew why Jackie hadn't immediately resumed her yelling.

The guests had arrived.

Pete was there now too, having escorted in a rather poshly-dressed but smiling couple, a man and woman maybe a bit older than he and Jackie were. The man reminded the Doctor somewhat of the Brigadier- dark-haired and mustachioed, stoutly built but not fat. He and Pete stood just inside the kitchen's entrance, looking on in amusement as Jackie and a trim blonde woman greeted one another with tight hugs and lively chatter, as if they'd been separated for years. Pete saw the Doctor standing at the other end of the room and beckoned him over.

"Dan, this is Dr. John Smith, a long-time family friend. Goes by the Doctor. Doctor, this is Dan Valencourt."

"Pleasure," said the Doctor, shaking hands.

"Good to meet you," said Dan. "That's my wife, Bev," he added, tipping his head, "but I think she's a bit busy for introductions at the moment. Thick as thieves, those two are." The two blondes were already on the other side of the room, laughing away as Jackie opened a bottle of white wine.

"Bev?" said the Doctor, trying to remember where he'd heard that name before.

Pete smiled at him, knowingly. "Thought you weren't going to activate that new security system until later tonight."

"I didn't," the Doctor told him, trying not to sound defensive, "I don't know why..."

He trailed off. Rose was coming back through the large arch to the dining room, laughing brightly and looking up at a tall young man the Doctor had never seen before. His eyes narrowed as it instantly occurred to him that maybe the security system hadn't malfunctioned after all. While it wasn't meant to go off at human presence it was very definitely set to detect an unidentified alien one, and the Doctor was pretty sure that was exactly what he was looking at right now. A shimmer; that's what it was. The creature had to be wearing a shimmer and it was a bad one at that, as obviously artificial as a blooming box of flowers on an icy window ledge. Not even Jack Harkness had sported such symmetrical facial features, with skin the perfect shade of summer bronze (when there hadn't even been any sunshine!) and thick hair golden blonde all the way to the roots. No way that could be natural. The Doctor fingered his sonic screwdriver, biding his time, jaw set. One quick scan was all it would take...

Rose caught his eye and they came over to him. "Doctor," said Rose, "this is Andrew Valencourt."

His hard expression relaxed into one of confusion. The son? The one who was supposed to be Tony's friend; come to help him build a playhouse?

His left eyebrow slowly lifted. Okay. So the man was a neighbor, and not an alien. He could accept that.

But if he had come here to see Tony, then the Doctor was a fat, stinking Slitheen.