Sunday. Of course it happened on a Sunday. It had been so long since he had last set foot on this soil. The last time he had been here he had to say goodbye to someone very important and it very nearly killed him. In fact, he did regenerate not long after that. She had been both the first face and the last face that he had seen in that body. Though he had moved on over time, he never stopped loving her. He wished her well with his other self, hoping they had a fantastic life together. Oh, it had been difficult to walk away. He often regretted it, wishing he had been a bit more selfish and asked her to stay with him. If he had been in this body, that might have been exactly what happened. But he wasn't and she was gone.

Pete's World. It had changed a bit over time, but there were still those ridiculous zeppelins. The TARDIS was still partially functioning this time and had connected to the local internet network. He knew that it was well into the future from when he had last landed at Darlig Ulv Stranden. How he ended up here at all, he wasn't sure. It should have been quite impossible, unless the fabric of space time was being threatened again. If that was the case then perhaps it was best that he was here. It would be awfully hard to solve the problem were he not present to do so.

But all the same, why here? All it did was remind him, and he would much rather forget. Remembering hurt… it hurt a lot. If he were being honest with himself, he knew could never really forget her, no matter how much he tried. Even after the Ponds came into his life, after marrying River… he still thought about her nearly every day. When he was alone on the ship, he would visit her room. Though the TARDIS had deleted all the bedrooms at one point, somehow hers stayed in tact, stored on the hidden tertiary data banks. He noticed it when scanning the contents of the TARDIS memory, and put it back into the ship's current structure matrix so it could be accessed again.

Some days he just laid on her bed for hours, taking in what was left of her scent. Everything was the same as it had always been. A few clothing items strewn about the room, makeup and beauty products slightly disarrayed on the vanity top, a pair of her trainers near the chair in the corner. He didn't dare change a thing. It was the only link he had to her, and didn't want to lose any bit of her that he could hold on to. Odd habit for The Man Who Forgets, but this was Rose Tyler, after all. She had branded his hearts forever, and earned a permanent place in them. His habits were probably a bit unhealthy and likely would register him as slightly disturbed to any mental health professional, however, he didn't really care.

An outside observer might ask how he could be so consumed by his past when there had been so very much in his present. That was a very good question to ask. The Ponds had been his family, River his wife. They had been the very light of his life, and nearly filled the gaping hole that had formed in his hearts. He couldn't imagine what his life would have been like without the glorious Amelia Pond and her wonderful husband Rory. They were everything to him, and their loss was beyond devastating. Nothing and no one could ever replace them, and he would miss them always. And it wasn't as if he hadn't loved River. He had, very much so, but it was different. So vastly different than the way he loved Rose. While they would all always be in his heart, there had only been one heart that had any room left in it. The other was permanently inhabited by one Rose Tyler, and there was nothing that would ever change that.

The Doctor looked around at the modern buildings mixed with the historical architecture of London. If you stood looking in one direction, it looked as it had for hundreds of years. Ancient buildings tower over the streets, the story of city told with every brick and every stone. Then in another direction, it looked like somewhere else altogether, with numerous skyscrapers made of metal and glass. It was the year 2154, one hundred and forty five years since his last fateful visit. In this timeline, at least. It had been more than 300 years for him. He let loose a heavy sigh. Rose was long gone by now, as would be his other self. So would the rest of the Tylers.

I suppose at least I won't have any awkward meetups, he thought. No..that didn't convince him. On the contrary, he was rather sad that there was no chance he would see her. Really...he wished he could.

He frowned a bit and shielded his eyes from the sun as it came out from behind the clouds. He glanced upward, noticing that the sky was rather clear now, lending to quite a lovely spring day. Yes, the sun was shining in all its glory.

"Love the sun. So nice and bright and...lighty," he said aloud to himself, turning his grimace to a smile.

Looking around again, he found himself at a bit of a loss as to what he should do. Since the TARDIS was currently not fully operational, and the only power cell that was still active needed time to charge, he thought he might travel about the city. It would be interesting to get an alternate perspective of 22nd century London in this parallel world. For education, for science. And he needed to be sure that nothing was amiss before he headed back. With a bit of a smile,a firm nod, and a tweak of his bow tie, the Doctor set off on foot toward the heart of London.

=xxx=

Some time later he found himself browsing a curiosities shop, marveling at some of the historical difference between this London and the London in the prime universe. Some of the changes were very subtle and others were glaringly different. Who knew that Marilyn Monroe would be a famed scientist that discovered the cure for the common cold and a winner of the Nobel Prize for science. Good for Marilyn. She was always more clever than people gave her credit for.

He ambled to the front of the store and noticed a figurine in a display case that was nearby. He approached the case to get a better look. It was a delicate crystal red rose under a tiny glass cloche. Likely it was a reference to the story of Beauty and the Beast, but it reminded him of something else altogether. Well, someone, anyway. He smiled sadly as he stared at the tiny glass figure, and contemplated purchasing it for himself. Was it a good idea? Likely not, but he would do it anyway because it was her.

"Excuse me," he called to the shopkeeper. "I'd like to purchase this, please."

After making his purchase, the Doctor exited the shop, but found himself lingering outside of it. Before he could even think of where he might head next, his stomach growled quite loudly (and quite rudely, no doubt). Yes, it was time for tea. And scones. Love a scone, he thought.. He set off to find a coffee shop, as that would likely be his best bet outside of a formal tea house. Not the best place for tea, but the baked goods always proved to make the visit worthwhile. His taste buds in this body differed from his last, but he still had a bit of an occasional sweet tooth. Today was definitely one of those days. A bit of a treat would do him good, perk him right up.

It didn't take long to find a place, and this one looked particularly promising. It advertised "A cuppa just like Mum's" and FRESH BAKED GOODS DAILY, and those in and of themselves sounded like a complete and utter delight to the Doctor. Clapping and rubbing his hands together, a wide smile on his face, he approached the shop. Once inside he looked about, surveying his surroundings. There were several other patrons, but the shop was rather spacious so it wasn't crowded. It was decorated in soothing shades of cream, blue and brown. Though it was quite roomy, it was still very home and cozy like. He liked it.

He inspected the menu and mulled over what to order for several minutes (even though he already knew what he was going to order, as he always ordered the same thing in shops like this). Finally he made a decision and his turn had come up at the counter.

"Afternoon sir, what might I get you?" the clerk asked in a reasonably cheerful tone.

"Earl Grey and a blueberry scone," was his answer, a slight smile on his lips.

A short while later he had his order and was on his way out, heading to a park that he had spotted nearby. The area he was in was a bit different in this London, and he wasn't wholly familiar with the layout of the neighborhood. He found a bench shaded under a tall dogwood tree and settled in. It was a lovely little park with an array of flowers and plant life, children playing a distance away.

He sipped his tea leisurely, and slowly chewed a hunk of his scone as he watched the different people in the park. Given that it was Saturday, there was quite a lot of activity. This was a nice neighborhood, he decided. Definitely somewhere he could visit to gather his thoughts and relax awhile. Maybe even read a book. He frowned a bit. He should have brought a book with him. Sometimes he missed that long brown coat he had worn during his previous incarnation. Those wonderful transdimensional pockets. Oh well. People watching it was.

He leaned back against the bench, resting his arms along the top of the back, shifting his gaze across the park. There was an old woman feeding birds, a city employee watering flowers, two boys floating boats on the little pond in the center of the park, Rose Tyler tying her shoe before a jog, a man with a cart selling hot dogs and peanuts calling out to attract customers… wait a moment.

His head slowly turned back, his eyes scanning for every detail until they fell upon the face that had haunted him for nearly three hundred years, the face of the woman he loved more than life itself. The woman he had lost to a metacrisis version of himself. But..how? It was nearly a century and a half forward in her timeline, a stretch of time far beyond the lifespan of a human being. Not to mention she looked exactly the same, only perhaps a bit thinner. Who was this woman and why did she have Rose's face? A descendant perhaps? It was possible if she and the metacrisis Doctor had a family. But for her to be the spitting image of Rose so many generations later? It didn't seem likely, however that was the only logical explanation. Or seemingly so at least.

By the time he had gone through the debate that took place inside his head, she had set off to run again. He scrambled in a slight panic, but managed to get to his feet. He instantly decided to follow her. There was no way he couldn't. He had to know more about this woman. Luckily she was still in his sights, so following her was an option. Realizing that he was spending far too much time thinking about doing so rather than actually doing it, he set off to follow her.

She was keeping a fairly steady pace, making it so he had to jog along at points in order to keep up with her. Blimey, she could run! Of course, that wasn't much of a surprise considering her experience. He always knew that she was quite the effective runner. Though her athleticism seemed to have improved even more so over the years. She was in very good shape, that was for certain. Then again, he always thought she had been a perfectly lovely shape. A perfectly Rose shaped sort of shape. He hadn't quite realized that he was already assuming that it was indeed her. Wishful thinking, he would have told himself, were he thinking straight.

It was 16 minutes and 42 seconds later when she finally came to a stop in front of a four story buildings that obviously housed several flats. Once she disappeared inside, he moved closer to the building to investigate a little. He was able to slip inside the lobby of the building and made his way over to the mail slots. Scanning the list of names, he frowned a little, not seeing any recognizable name on any of the boxes. That was until he came across the surname Prentice. Prentice, Prentice… why was that so familiar? He racked his brain, trying to figure out why this name struck a chord with him, but nothing surfaced. After several minutes and odd looks from building inhabitants making their way home, he realized he was loitering. Hurrying out of the lobby of the building, he found himself on the street again. The Doctor sighed. Back to square one.

He made his way back to the TARDIS, all the while thinking of that name. Prentice. Perhaps it was just a coincidence and he was grasping at straws. Then, in mid-stride, it struck him like the tolling of the cloister bells. Prentice! His mind flooded with a very distinct memory, the Battle at Canary Wharf. When Rose and the Doctor had arrived back at the Powell Estate to visit her mother, Jackie started talking about the "ghosts" that had been appearing. It had been going on for the better part of two months, and she was convinced that the "ghost" appearing in her home was that of her father, Rose's Granddad Prentice. That was it! Her mother's maiden name! Of course it was familiar! He had heard stories of when Rose was small and she would go for ice cream with her Granddad Prentice, and how her Nan Prentice always bought her things that were pink.

R. Prentice. It had read R. Prentice… could it be Rose Prentice? He had no absolute way of knowing. Well in the very least, it seemed that part of the mystery was solved. But still, why would her descendant have her mother's maiden name? Surely if Rose and the Metacrisis Doctor had married, either she would have taken whatever name he was using, or more likely, kept her maiden name. It could very well be someone else with the name Prentice, and he had no clue what name the metacrisis Doctor had taken after coming to this world. It was very possible that his idea was completely and utterly wrong. A normal person might just let it go and move along. A normal person wouldn't go to ridiculous lengths just to satisfy a curiosity. However, he was not a normal person, and he was going to do exactly those things.

When he finally reached the TARDIS, he accessed the ship's computer and tapped into the local internet connection. He began with the obvious and looked up the name Prentice in the online white pages. He found a number of them, but there wasn't an R. Prentice among them. Digging a little deeper, he searched for an R. Prentice specifically. It took a bit of searching (which included gaining access to some highly classified websites) and he finally found what he was looking for: a phone number. It was the correct phone number for the location of the flat, according to his sources. In the very least he could ring up the mystery woman to hear her voice and settle all of this ridiculous hopes that it might actually be Rose. He knew it was illogical to think it might be her, but he couldn't help it. If there was even the most remote chance...he had to know, even if it was next to impossible.

It took several minutes before he was ready to make the call, pacing back and forth over the TARDIS floor in front of the console. He stopped a few times and stared at the phone before taking a deep breath and picking up the receiver before putting it back down again.

"Oh this is just stupid! C'mon Doctor! Get a hold of yourself, old man! It's just a bloody phone call," he groused at himself, frowning deeply, the lines in his forehead prominent. Finally, he picked up the receiver and dialed out the number. It rang several times, and he was about to hang up, but then suddenly there was someone at the other end.

"Hello?" came a female voice.

He froze. It sounded exactly like her… not just like her… it WAS her. There was no mistake about it. This was Rose Marion Tyler on the other end of the line. He knew that voice too well, having spent years perfectly preserving memories of her in his mind for nearly three centuries. But how could this be? How was she alive? There was no plausible reason for her still being here after 150 years. As impossible as it was… it meant she was still here. Still living and breathing and walking this Earth. She was mere minutes away, up in her flat, answering his phone call, and he was frozen.