A/N: The first in a series of character studies from an epic baby!fic I never completed. Let me know if you'd like to see the rest. Takes place in my one-shot universe where Rose and the cloned Doctor have a grow your own TARDIS.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. This is true of all chapters.

His Own Kind

He finds that he can't get enough of watching her laugh – with him, at him, it doesn't seem to matter too much – because when she's laughing it's like the whole universe is beaming; like there's nothing out there that could ever make her stop.

When she's crying he feels the full weight of the universe settle about him; when she's crying it becomes his purpose in life to make her stop.

She doesn't cry often though, doesn't laugh as often as he'd like either truth be told, but she's smiley, and bouncy, and her mother insists that nobody's happy all the time. He can't help but think that the little girl with the wild red curls should be the exception to that rule, and as he watches her spin in circles in some field on some planet with a name even he can't recall he convinces himself that she is.

She's always dancing, always turning her face up to some distant star, pigtails and green ribbons flying behind her as she runs across landscapes that have never seen anything like her before. Sometimes she drags her brother along, always leading the way; sometimes all four of them end up spinning, spinning and falling, and laughing up at skies that twist and change as their eyes catch up with their bodies. She's always the first one to her feet then, holding out small hands, calling them on to new adventures and new sights, things he may have seen a hundred million times but are always fresh when he sees them with her laughter in his ears.

She's done that today, gone off to see some new sight, but this time she's forgotten to wait for them.

He's chasing her through the trees of some forgotten world trying to catch a glimpse of red and green between the falling silver leaves. His single heart thunders in his chest as he tries to catch her; he calls out but there's no reply. She's just out of his reach, and like a rat to the pied piper, her laughter leads him on.

Her laughter's never scared him before.

When he finds her he comes to a sudden and ungainly halt and feels the admonishment on his lips fade to nothing, replaced by a whisper of the impossible truth. She's not laughing now.

She stands in a clearing under a blood red sky, silver leaves cling to her clothes, and the light of twin sun casts two shadows on the ground beneath her feet. She watches him silently from wide, dark eyes as the trees around them crumble to dust.

She's still watching him when he opens his eyes.