Disclaimer: see previous chapter.
2: The Smith Children
"Well, I was thinking, if she's a girl, maybe we could call her after one of your other companions?"
John looked hard at his wife, remembering how jealous she'd been of Martha and Sarah Jane at first. "You're sure?" he asked her.
"Absolutely certain!" grinned Rose. "Martha, or Donna, or Sarah Jane, or even someone I've never met, if you like."
"Donna," said John firmly. Rose smiled.
"I thought so," she admitted. "I mean, she sort of created you."
"Well, yeah, that too," agreed John, "but that wasn't why I said it." He took a deep breath. "There has never been a human-Time Lord metacrisis, Rose. There can't be. I - the Doctor - would have had to wipe her memories. Otherwise… she would have died. I'm sorry."
"So she won't remember," murmured Rose. "She'll never remember. And she did so much…"
And so, when their first child was born, and she was a daughter, they named her Donna.
"What about if he's a boy?"
Rose shrugged. "Is there anyone you'd like to name him after? One of the Time Lords?"
John sighed. "Time Lords don't tell anyone their true names. And most of their nicknames would attract too much attention for a human child." He trailed off in thought.
"I suppose we could call him Mickey," mused Rose.
"Or Ricky."
"Well, you'd better make your mind up," Rose said crossly, "because you're not getting our son's name wrong!"
"Fine, Mickey then. Mickey Smith II… no, I don't want him to feel second-best. Oh, I don't know!"
There was silence for a moment, as both parents considered and rejected boy's names.
"Harold," said John finally. "Harry."
Rose raised her eyebrows. "Where did that come from?"
"Harold Saxon," admitted John. "The Master." He sighed. "He was a good friend once…"
And so, when their second child was born, the year after the first, and he was a son, they named him Harold.
Both Rose and John had agreed that two children was a good number, and it was nice to have a boy and a girl, and although they wouldn't mind another child things were good as they were.
And so the third child, four years after the other two, was a complete accident.
They talked vaguely about Michael or Peter for a boy, and Susan or Sarah for a girl, but they never found a name they both were sure on.
Rose sobbed into her pillow.
It had seemed such a good idea at first. She had to stay with John, because she knew first hand how he'd feel if she didn't. She wanted him to enjoy his life as a human.
And even though she had to live on, she didn't see why she couldn't have one lifetime's happiness with John.
But now she had two children (Donna was five and Harold four) and a third due in a week's time. And she would have to watch them grow up too, watch them age and wither and die.
The night before she'd had a dream that the third child was a daughter who looked exactly like her, and she'd had to watch her own face grow and age, turn into an old woman and finally die. She didn't think she could bear it if that happened.
"I hate you, Bad Wolf!" screamed Rose through her tears.
And her laptop lit up, two words filling the screen.
BAD WOLF.
The scrap of paper she'd scribbled down a possible name on now bore two words.
BAD WOLF.
The pattern on the duvet seemed, when she looked closer, to be made up of tiny words.
BAD WOLF BAD WOLF BAD WOLF BAD WOLF BAD WOLF BAD WOLF BAD WOLF…
"Bad Wolf!" choked Rose.
And her waters broke.
"So… Susan?" suggested Rose, looking down at her newborn daughter. John frowned.
"It doesn't really suit her, does it?" he mused. "Nor does Sarah. Or Martha, for that matter."
Rose stared down at her daughter. There was something about her that she couldn't quite put her finger on… She was special somehow, but Rose didn't know how. And the words "Bad Wolf" must have appeared then for a reason; she and John had talked a lot about Bad Wolf and never seen the words.
The name came to her as she thought. "Freya."
"Freya?" asked John. "Where did you get that from?"
"Dunno, I just think it suits her," Rose shrugged.
John looked at his daughter more closely. "It does!" he realised.
"Freya Smith," Rose breathed. "She's going to be special, some day."
Later, when it was just her and Freya, Rose found John's stethoscope and checked Freya's heartbeat.
She was bitterly disappointed to hear only one heart.