Hello everyone, and welcome to my first Doctor Who multi-chap! I am so excited to be presenting this piece, and although it's a wee bit strange (eleven/rose au?) I am confident that it will be enjoyed. For those of you who have not read Fix You, my pen name is thetideisrising and I tend to hang out in the Agents of SHIELD section of this website because I have loved Iain de Caestecker since my date of birth and Elizabeth Henstridge is the queen of all queens. This should be a fun little fic, I'm not planning on it being more then five chapters, and it will be updated after I update my other aos multi-chap The Choices We Make, which is my main priority. Also, I am now taking prompts for doctor/rose fics (preferably ten, eleven, or twelve I don't have anything against nine I actually love him but I don't ship nine/rose sorry) Also, all the chapter titles are lyrics from Kenny Chesney's American kids, which I do not own. So I'm glad that everyone decided to take a peek at this and I'm sorry about my tedious authors note. I do not own Doctor Who. Enjoy!

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Mud-Luscious and Puddle-Wonderful

Prologue: Yellow Dog School Bus, Kicking Up Red Dust

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"Yeah life throws you curves, but you learn to swerve."

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Her honey blond curls flying, Rose Tyler slid down the steel slide with a naïve grin plastered on her face.

"Again!" she cried, and despite her mother's protests from the window, her father placed her on top of the slide once more.

Her father was the only corn farmer on the west side of the township, and even though corn was very high in demand in this part of Pennsylvania, the family was still having some financial difficulties.

They probably would have been much better off had the Caronite sisters not moved in next door. The three elderly sisters were notorious for spreading rumors about, and seeing that the three of them had deep roots in the towns of the nearby area, whatever they say, goes.

The eldest sister had a very troubled daughter. Her name was Skylar, and preferring to be called Sky, she was fine for the first twenty years of her life. Then she wound up pregnant, and really was never the same again. The boy was born fourteen years ago from the day, and his name was Harold Saxon. The entire county dreaded the day that the boy claimed his family's farm.

The middle sister had no children, and she deemed that when she died she wanted her wealth to be passed onto Harry. The poor boy was already as insane as an asylum; he did not need any more power coursing through his already filthy veins.

The last sister had one son whom she called John. John was a compassionate man who was generally very quiet at all of the family ordeals. His aunts had cursed him, saying that men like him didn't wind up with anything at all. John, always the brains of the family, was accepted to The Gallifrey Academy for The Blessed, and while there he met his wife, Ramona. They married in a quiet ceremony, and three years later their son Matthew was born. When the boy was ten, his family took him to the academy for a class reunion. While there, the building caught on fire and everyone but Matthew perished in the flames.

Matthew's grandmother had died as well, and his great aunts inherited the boy. Four years younger than Harry, Matthew was given all the difficult tasks. His great aunts refused to see him as an equal to Harry, and though he was a better candidate for the land, his great-aunts would hear none of it.

When Matthew had a free moment, he would spend it overlooking the Tyler's property. Their innocence was soothing to him, and he longed to swing next to their daughter.

Really he just wanted a family.

Sighing, Matthew trudged away with the bucket of water he was required to fill. The Tyler's daughter would start school soon, and he considered it a blessing. He wasn't so popular at school.

Matthew climbed the stairs to the front porch and sat on the top step. He had Amy and Rory, and his sister Clara. He sniffed as memories of her resurfaced. She was younger than him, and he had hid her away from his aunts. They did not even know about the baby girl hiding in their basement.

Suddenly an idea came to him; he could give her up. It was a miracle she didn't cry already and he needed somewhere safe for her to grow up until he was able to come and get her.

With a small smile on his face, he started to mop the floors.

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When he was sure everyone had fallen asleep, he started out of the house.

The warm glow of the Tyler's kitchen light comforted him as he trekked across the front lawn. When he reached the front porch, he climbed the two worn stairs and knocked on the red door.

He heard footsteps on the other side and sighed in relief when Pete Tyler answered the door, a small frown playing at his lips as he looked down in amusement at the young boy, lips slowly curling into a small smile at the young child in his arms.

"What are you doing here, boy?" he asked, amusement fading from his face, replaced with lines of worry.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a booming feminine voice. "Pete! What the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour!"

Though he had never seen the woman, he knew the source of the voice. Jackie had a high drawl, if he were to guess he assumed that she had grown on Long Island, the way she threw words back in forth in a spew of nonsense at a rapid pace reminded him of his childhood friend River, who was raised there.

His eyes watered as the pair in front of him fought desperately, Clara fisting his short hair as he sniffled. She let out a low whimper, and staring at the one-year old girl, dark tufts of hair emerging from her head he knew that this was the right decision.

"Mrs. Tyler," he said quietly.

The blonde woman stared at him. "What do you want boy?"

He gulped. "My sister…" trailing off he raised her in his arms. "They'd kill her if they knew that she was alive."

Jackie's eyes widened.

"You don't have to keep her," he reassured. "But please, just find a place where she can survive."

Though Jackie seemed skeptical, Pete nodded solemnly.

"What's her name?" he asked, his eyes staring at the girl's.

Matthew swallowed. "Clara. Clara Oswin-Oswald Smith." Noting Pete's raised eyebrow he continued. "My mother's maiden name was Oswald."

He nodded. "We'll take her."

Jackie grabbed Clara from his arms, and for fifteen years, he did not see hide nor hair of her.

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Yeah this was pretty bad but you know whatever. The chapters will be much longer than this, this is just a prologue. Like it? Love it? Absolutely hate it? Let me know. Cheers! xx