A/N This started out as a one shot, but I think I might make it into a two or three chaptered story. I might end up rewriting it soon, but I think its ok for now. Post Doomsday/Runaway Bride.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, the Doctor would never wear a shirt.

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The TARDIS materialised in front of a small, tatty council bungalow. The bold blue of the police box contrasted harshly with the dilapidated grey of the houses around it. Children played on the street, ignoring this unusual arrival.

From the box stepped a tall young man, dressed smartly in a brown pinstriped suit. He wore a long brown coat that trailed behind him as he walked. He shoved his hands into the deep pockets, and strode determinedly towards the bungalow.

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Marion didn't get many visitors these days. There wasn't anyone who really cared about her any more. Not since the Battle of Canary Warf. She just sat alone in her bungalow, watching telly sometimes, but mainly just sitting, old photos surrounding her.

The man walked up the weed covered front path, and rang the doorbell. He tapped his feet nervously, shoving his hands further into his pockets. He could see a shadow approaching slowly through the glass of the front door. The door opened cautiously. An old face peered round the crack of the door.

"Yes?" Her voice was croaky and deep, the type that suggests they have a sore throat, and have smoked one too many cigarettes in their life.

"Marion?" The Doctor asked carefully. "Marion Tyler?"

The woman opened the door a bit more, carefully reaching for her umbrella behind the door. "Yes?" She gripped the plastic handle firmly, ready to attack if this stranger tried to thieve from her.

It had happened before. Kids from the estate, mainly. Knew she was alone, easy target. The police had been out a few times, but all they'd done was give her a funny little button. What good a button was meant to do if she was being murdered she didn't know.

This man didn't look like most thieves though. He wasn't wearing those odd hooded tops the kids thought were fashionable these days. In fact, he looked quite dapper. Maybe that was the trick nowadays. Look smart and decent, and no one will suspect anything. Maybe he had a knife. Or a gun, maybe. You were always readin' of these knife crimes now. None of that in her day.

Marion hadn't always been so suspicious of people. But after so many died that day, after her family had died.. She wondered now if there was any good left in this world.

The Doctor could see the look of suspicion on the old woman's face. She looked just like Pete. Well, a female version obviously. Same eyes. She looked like Rose too. That was the most painful part. Maybe that's what Rose would look like if she were an old woman.

If? The Doctor had to keep reminding himself that Rose was still alive. But with her missing from his side, it was hard to imagine her carrying on, moving on. Forgetting him.

Through the blurry glass pane in the door, he could see Marion's hand clutching an umbrella. It defiantly wasn't raining, so he knew he had to explain who he was quickly, before he got a smack round the head.

"I'm..John. John Smith. I'm..I was..Rose's friend." When Marion heard this, the umbrella fell out of her hand, and the door opened more. The Doctor smiled.

"How can I help you?" She asked. "If she borrowed something, I don't have any of her stuff. I could let you in the flat, but she didn't really keep much there. Always travellin' she was. Never saw her, hardly." The woman looked sad. "And now she's gone. I didn't even know she was in the bleedin' country when she died. I was thinkin', I hope she's alright, safe in some foreign place where the language is crazy, and the food tastes like manure."

The Doctor had never felt more guilty in his life. "Where was Rose travelling?"

"France."

"France. Right. She did tell me.. Right old scatter brain, that's what I am.." He smacked his palm to his forehead and laughed lightly. The woman smiled slightly, in a way that was obviously humouring him.

"So, John was it? Would you like to come in?" She opened the door fully, and the Doctor ducked into the house, somehow managing not to hit his head on the doorframe. This house was obviously designed for tiny, frail old women, not tall, strong (well, that's debatable) Time Lords. He shut the door behind him, and followed the woman to the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked. He should of guessed. Tyler women. Loved tea. Perhaps it was a condition of the surname.

"Erm, yes thanks." He leant uncomfortably on the worktop, letting his eyes dart around the small room. By the door, there was a small notice board. It was covered in pictures. The Doctor moved closer to it, and he could see now that most of the pictures were of Rose and Jacky. At the top, there were pictures of a young Pete, Pete on his wedding day, Pete at Rose's christening.

It hurt to look at Rose. She looked so happy, so different to the last time he'd seen her. The last time he'd ever see her. His eyes flicked over all of the pictures, pausing when he came to a picture he recognized. It was taken last Christmas, after he'd defeated the Sycorax. He was wearing his glasses, and that daft paper hat. Rose was wearing her pink paper hat, and beaming happily towards the camera. He had to look away then, blinking back tears.

"Sugar?" Asked Marion, snapping him out of his daydream.

"Yes, thanks. Two." He nibbled nervously on his fingernails. Marion held out a mug and he took it, smiling gratefully.

"Follow me." Instructed Marion, walking towards the living room. She sat down in the old chair in the corner. She rested her mug on the table next to her, and gestured for the Doctor to sit on the sofa opposite her. He sat down, sipping his tea.

The living room was like a shrine to Rose. Old school pictures, pictures of a five year old Rose in various costumes pulling faces. Drawings of tower blocks and flowers, Mummy and Daddy, all signed shakily "To Gran, Luve Rose, Age 6 and a Haf." Rose never was the perfect speller.

On every spare surface, shiny frames gleamed mockingly at him, all holding pictures of her. It was so hard to be in here, surrounded by images of the one person he had ever..

He swallowed, struggling to push memories out of his mind. He had come to speak to Marion, and he couldn't do that if Rose was clouding his mind.

"You must miss them." Said the Doctor simply. The sadness in his voice was apparent.

"Of course." Said Marion. She pushed back tears. "They were my only family. Pete was my only child. His dad, God rest his soul, never really wanted any more. And you didn't argue with Peter Tyler, God rest his soul, let me tell you." She chuckled. "Course, it was 'ard when Pete went, and then his dad. I thought I'd have Jackie and Rose for the rest of my life.

"A grandmother should never have to bury her granddaughter. Well, I couldn't even do that, could I? They never found her body. I always hope, well, that maybe, just maybe, she's alive. Maybe she's still out there. But its been months now. Nearly a year. I just have to accept their gone. Move on with my life. Well, what's left of it." She sipped her tea, enjoying the brief silence.

The Doctor gulped. He placed his mug carefully on the floor. "Well, actually.. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

A/N TBC?