Disclaimer: The BBC owns Doctor Who and all characters. I do not own the Doctor, Rose, any of the Tylers (apart from Rose's baby brother – although he wasn't my idea), Mickey, or Torchwood, nor do I own the parallel Earth – or the Doctor's love of bananas. I do, however, own Rose's slippers.

A/N: Well, this is going to be a slightly longer Fic than I've had before – just a 'normal' day for Rose, explaining her situation around a year after Doomsday. I'm hoping to develop the story a little further, by adding more chapters etc. but I want to see how this goes down before I make any promises.

Dedication: Dedicated to my sister, Laura, who shares my love of Doctor Who, and has a larger sticker collection than I do.

Moving On

Chapter One: A Banana A Day

"Oh God, not again!"

Rose Tyler raised her head from her numerous pillows and grabbed her mobile phone from her bedside table where it was vibrating madly. "Hello?"

"Rose! About time, I've been callin' for hours!"

Rose rolled her eyes and checked her watch wearily. "You can't have been, Mickey, it's only seven-thirty."

"Not hours then, but for a long time!"

"Yeah, yeah," Rose giggled, running a hand through her already tousled hair and raising herself into an upright position. "What is it?"

"Just to say good mornin', that's all. Just...to check you're okay."

"Yes, Mickey, I'm fine. Thanks for calling – I'll see you at work."

"Alright, Rose. Take care."

Rose replaced her phone and switched off her alarm which had just started to ring in the same irritating fashion that it did each morning. Rose hated alarms. The problem was that they woke you up – if your friends didn't get to you first, that was. She was grateful, though, that Mickey had rung – it had become a routine and was a nicer way of waking up than being jolted into consciousness by a harsh alarm – or by the screams of her baby brother. Her mother had bought her a beautiful alarm clock for Christmas – an old fashioned clock with an expensive-looking beaded frame and ornately carved hands, but Rose had put it away a few days later, after dreaming about the Doctor and clockwork Droids for several consecutive nights.

Rose had finally got to grips with the fact that the Doctor wasn't coming back for her. She knew she loved him – she knew she'd always loved him, but after months of mourning her loss and willing him to return, she'd almost accepted that she'd never see him again. Every so often she was aware of a hope somewhere at the back of her mind, a hope that he'd appear to her and take her away in the TARDIS; take her back to her old world, where they could carry on as normal.

Not that she hated the new world. It had been hard, accepting that she now had a father again. She knew that she loved him – and she had him back, she finally had him – but it had been difficult seeing her mother just let him back into her life. She could see that she was happy, and she was pleased, but in some ways she was jealous – jealous that her mother was no longer only hers, and that she had to share her – share her with someone she barely knew, but who her mother knew and loved to bits.

Mickey had helped her, of course. She'd always known that he would – he'd just stand by her, loyally. At first he'd been unsure – and she'd been cold and unfeeling, not wanting to let him back into her life. Gradually, however, she'd let him get closer to her, but now he wasn't a boyfriend, wasn't a lover – just a good friend, almost like a brother. She'd forgotten what it was like to have fun with youths her age – she'd grown up a lot with the Doctor, although they'd laughed and been immature back in the TARDIS.

Back in the TARDIS...it seemed so long ago, such a happy period in her life, but it had some surreal quality to it, as if it had never quite happened. She'd forgotten periods – she couldn't quite recall the events back with the Werewolf, although it was a fond memory that she had, competing with the Doctor to convince Queen Victoria to say her famous few words. She could remember meeting Sarah-Jane Smith, but the business with the chips and numerous explosions inside the school had become a blur – although she couldn't forget how hurt and worried she had felt when she'd realised that the Doctor just...dropped people, and left them – and how relieved she'd been when he'd told her he wouldn't drop her.

She was grateful to him for that. He hadn't dropped her, he would never have dropped her. He'd burned up a star to say goodbye to her, and the look on his face...the look when she'd had to let go of that handle, slip away from him and lose him forever...it haunted her, but she knew – she knew he'd never have left her. He'd wanted to keep her, she had seen it in his face back at the beach – and when he'd said her name, after she'd told him how she felt about him...

Rose sighed mournfully, before shaking her head. No, it was better buried and forgotten. She'd relived her goodbye to the Doctor too many times, far too many times. She couldn't forget him, of course – she couldn't forget any of the times they'd shared in the TARDIS, and his flirtatious comments. He'd taught her a lot, and she hadn't forgotten that. He'd taught her to be brave, to stand up for what she believed in, and he'd taught her what love was, pure, unselfish love. She could never love another like that – and that was part of the explanation for her current relationship – or lack of – with Mickey. Rose would never love again, not like that, but she was glad. It was part of her tribute to the Doctor, a tribute to his memory – less of a sacrifice, but of a gift to him. She was simply sorry that he'd never know it.

Stretching, she stepped out of bed and placed her feet in her fuzzy slippers that now had a permanent spot on the carpet, just where her feet would land when she rose in the morning. They were special slippers to her – made out of a brown suede material – indescribably ugly for a pair of slippers, but with a royal blue lining – just like the Doctor's coat. Her mother had tried many times to get her to buy a 'prettier pair', but Rose wouldn't let go of them – nor would she let go of the dark blue men's dressing-gown that she donned morning and evening.

A quick check of her watch ensured her that she had plenty of time to get ready for work – but all the same, she often arrived bright and early, and ready to tackle the next problem that faced her parallel Earth, her new homeland. Running into the ensuite bathroom (this had been a welcome addition in her new life, now that the family actually had some money), and almost forgetting her towel, she stepped into the shower and began to wash her hair.

She emerged some minutes later and dressed in a pair of smart black trousers and a blue shirt which complimented her glossy blonde hair and made her look bright and healthy. She no longer dyed her hair herself over the kitchen sink – it was professionally done every so often, although it was the same length – just brushing the tops of her shoulders. The Doctor had liked it like that, he'd said that if it was any longer, it would be easy for monsters to grab – and any shorter, she'd look like a man. She'd hit him, of course, and refused to speak to him until he had admitted that he had been joking and that she was thoroughly beautiful. She'd hit him again after she'd said that, although the blush in her cheeks and a cheeky grin had let the Doctor know that she was pleased with his compliment. He'd followed it up with one of his cheesy winks, and Rose had simply rolled her eyes and headed back to check on the Time Rotor, aware of his eyes following her all the way.

It was little things like this which brightened Rose's day. The memories no longer upset her, but cheered her up, made her laugh to herself. Nobody knew what she was smiling about, but her family and friends had become used to seeing her in a state of enlightenment and never questioned her motives.

Breakfast was never a hurried affair in the Tyler household, not any more. A stack of waffles awaited Rose as she slipped into a seat at the table in the large dining room, and she helped herself happily, giving her little brother a spoonful of maple syrup and laughing at his bemused expression as he tried to get to grips with the sweet taste tickling his tongue. Rose's mother joined her a few minutes later, and Pete Tyler was the last to join the family at the table, as usual, with his tie undone and his shirt done up with the wrong buttons. Jackie Tyler rolled her eyes when she saw this, and began to fuss over her husband, rebuttoning his shirt for him and tying his tie neatly, following it up with a short kiss. Rose watched this display with an expression of distaste before hurriedly gulping down half a glass of orange juice, stuffing in the last waffle, and announcing, with her mouth full, that she was heading into work early today.

"As usual," Jackie commented, kissing her daughter on the top of her head and handing her an apple.

Rose shook her head. It was silly, she knew, but she hadn't touched apples since she'd arrived in the new world. 'An apple a day keeps the Doctor away...' – the phrase had haunted her, and she grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl with a grin and headed out of the door, leaving a bemused Jackie behind her.

"I dunno why she'll never eat these – they used to be her favourite fruit!" her mother complained to her husband, who rolled his eyes and took a large bite out of the rosy red fruit.