The stories that follow are paired. The opposite story is called and can be found on my Author page. Both stories follow Rose's chronology and will be updated simultaneously. I also still have to disclaim, as Russell T Davies has not yet hired me. I'd move to London, I really, really will, Mr. Davies!

Nine: Because Her Hand Fit

When the TARDIS landed in London in 1990, he knew something was very, very wrong. There was something happening in the local continuum, something he could see if he just concentrated. Actually, he would see it unless he concentrated, because it was becoming quickly the more senior reality, starting to try to take precedence over the way things were meant to be. The potential paradox was shaking him with its sterile, brutal promise.

He locked the TARDIS behind him, and almost managed to be glad he didn't have a companion to explain this to - almost.

The invasion he remembered was taking place as it had happened in his memory. He himself was maybe two blocks away, trying to get the general populace, the UNIT soldiers, and the invaders out of each other's way. But whatever was going wrong was going wrong right here.

Then he heard the faintest sound - like something soft falling against something metal. He followed the time traces and the faint sounds still coming from that direction and found a little girl, hunched behind a dumpster, drawing on the pavement with a little bit of rock.

"What're you doing here, then?" he asked her, watching as the time traces all converged around her tiny, morose looking form. She was wreathed in them, shining amber and sparkling in a cloak of fire only he could see. He knew her at once, didn't even need to ask her name, because she was one of few human beings he had ever heard of with this magnificently identifying feature, the way Time glittered in ecstatic worship around her.

"I'm hiding. Mum and I ran like you said, but I..." she sighed and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I kinda lost her."

He was more than a bit impressed that she recognized him, since she couldn't have seen him for more than a few seconds that day. "Come on out, I'll take you home," he said.

"You're a soldier, right? Mummy says I'm only to talk to police if I get lost. I guess a soldier would be ok, you're like police, aren't you?" He was surprised to realize that the TARDIS was translating her piping four-year-old garble into something he could easily understand. He didn't realize before that the TARDIS knew English toddler talk. Maybe it was just because she was familiar to them both, regardless of her age.

She stood up and held out her baby hand for him. "I'm Rose Tyler."

"Tell you what, Rose," he said, "under a circumstance like this, it's ok to talk to soldiers who can help you." And he took her hand, grinning at her when he discovered that, even when it was this small, it still fit perfectly.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't follow orders right," she added after a second.

He almost laughed out loud at that. "I bet that's going to become a habit of yours," he said with a conspiratorial twinkle and turned to lead her around the battle and back to her flat. "One very, very important thing, though, Miss Tyler, you had better learn to hold on to people's hands when they're trying to keep you out of trouble."

Her attention span had apparently never changed. "You have pretty eyes," she said, "even if you have got big ears. I think they're neat ears, though," she added, apparently worried she had hurt his feelings, as she nibbled on her lip just like she would do 15 years later.

This time he did laugh, and walked with her as fast as she could keep up, reinforcing the lesson about holding hands, since he couldn't change anything, anyway, and she would never remember this. Maybe it would be subconscious. Maybe it had worked a little.

He took her straight to the door, only making one mistake that he wouldn't realize until later. Just as he was about to ring the bell, she tugged on his hand and he looked down at her. Her eyes, even at that age, were huge, breath-taking, magnificent. Even at her present age of only four, he would never be able to say no to her. Expecting some sort of infant affection or maybe a child's complaint about being made to walk too fast, he was more than a little shocked - staggered, actually - by what she said.

"Can we get married some day?"

She was a baby, a complete innocent. How could she hit so well on the one question that could easily have left him utterly speechless? He looked at her, this time, really looked at her, let her see every ounce of the pure, true, tender emotions he had felt for her from the moment he first took her hand. "Ask me again when you're older," he told her, not just because she would never remember, not just because she would never actually ask, but mostly, almost entirely, because he meant it.

Then, he hit the doorbell and took off at a dead run. He did stop at the corner to take one last peek at her, just as her mother chivvied her inside.

This was not the end, not anymore.

She'd just asked him a very important question. He'd asked her an important question once, too, but she didn't give him the right answer. Well, but his answer to her question probably didn't seem quite right, either. He should go back, ask her again. He had a time machine. She was older, now, and he hadn't changed. Maybe she'd want to ask her question again, too, some day soon. Not that he's ever have an answer to it, not that she'd really ever ask it. But, maybe...

He smiled as he set the coordinates, back to less than a minute after he left her. He would see her again, all bathed in sunshine and stardust, the golden girl whose hand fit just right, who could win the love of Time, and the hearts of a Time Lord. There was every chance, after all, that they both should ask at least twice, and that fact was more precious than diamonds.