Here I am again! Here's the chapter and everything! Now I do have to apologise for the strange ordering of this chap because I wrote the fic as a whole one shot and only decided to chop it up later - thus the segments are a bit weird. Sorry :(. Also this hasn't been beta'd but I'm sure that's fine...right?

Anywho! Enjoy!

Thanks for my reviewers!

Allons-y!

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Part II - Sunbeams

Dimension travel was never a comfortable experience, not even when the Time Lords watched things, so to say that John flew out the other end violently was an understatement. He shot out of a hole in reality with considerable force, crashed through two dustbins, an angry cat and a shopping trolley before coming to a sudden stop as he hit a dirty brick wall. He groaned and slumped to the floor clutching his head. At least nothing was broken.

Slowly he got to his feet and tried to just himself off as his head swam. He was covered in brick dust and lord knows what else, he could barely stand the thought of it. He did a small inventory to make sure he still had all his items, his own sonic screwdriver – well it was actually a sonic pen, psychic paper, wallet, glasses. Everything seemed to be in order. Well everything except he had absolutely no idea where he was.

How did he get here anyway? What exactly happened? At a guess he believed that he was caught as two rift devices connected and formed some sort of transportation funnel but beyond that it was anyone's guess. He didn't want to say 'magic door' but that was looking more and more likely. Well it was best to take a look around.

John strode to the end of the alleyway he'd been catapulted down and took a long look around. His jaw dropped. The smell of the air, the colour of the sky and the architecture told him that this was London in the UK on planet Earth. He'd been to London hundreds of times with his father; it was sort of like a home city or a favourite holiday spot. But he was as sure as sure could be that London did not have zeppelins. Yet it had to be wrong, the hairs standing up on the backs of his arms and his new Time Sense told him this was so.

Many things about this situation were not good. Many, many things.

He scooped a nearby tossed paper off the floor and examined it closely. It was the same date at least as well as the same city. His insides were going cold. His dad had told him about this in a story so long ago back when he was still only months old – it was in a story about the woman that could be called his mother. This was a parallel world. He hadn't just crossed space and time he'd crossed the Void as well.

He swallowed, that made getting home that little bit harder.

But no less possible! He could get here, he could get back. He'd just need to resonate the rift on this side while someone did it on the other. Easy! His dad would figure it out. That settled John decided he would need to go to Torchwood on this side, to the rift they had. From the looks of things the rift in the parallel universe, Pete's World, was in a slightly different place, probably the same place the Cybermen crossed through actually. He wouldn't have been jettisoned far.

That meant he'd be breaking into a highly secured government building. He'd need key codes because psychic paper only worked on people really. That meant stealing things and breaking things with his sonic pen. Sounded like fun.

His insides refroze, the head of Torchwood in this universe was none other than Pete Tyler – his dad had told him that. He'd also told him that this place was like a gingerbread house, so many temptations. John was tempted, in fact, he wanted to see what had happened to his dad – his human dad – eight years ago when they just left him here. What had happened to him and Rose?

Well he did have to break into Torchwood and Rose's dad was the head. So maybe they lived in the same place? Couldn't hurt to look right? He had to check anyway and he'd only be there what? Twenty minutes? A grin spread over his face as he slowly pulled out his mobile phone.

A quick search had led him to the mansion of the Tylers and confirmed that Rose Tyler did, in fact, still live there. It also told him that she was married to a Jonathan Smith and he was now Jonathan Tyler. She'd been married seven years and had two children, Jack Tyler aged six and Donna Tyler aged four. She had a whole life here, a life without him and without knowledge of him. It hurt in a way, really hurt. He now understood what his dad meant by not being able to go back. But he stood by his decision at the end of reality all those years ago – it was better that she didn't know.

Before turning up at the mansion he decided that he'd need new clothes, his pinstripe suit was too like his dad's and he was walking into a place that may recognise him on sight. He wandered around until he located a nearby homeless shelter. They gave him a meal – soup, wasn't bad actually – and a bag to put his suit in. He also retrieved off them a long black duster jacket, faded of course and a simple white dress shirt with a dark red tie. He also managed to get a pair of faded smart black jeans with pads sewed into the knees. He kept his white converse, he couldn't' bare to take them off but made sure that the laces were at least mismatched. His normal black glasses finished the look – at least it was almost a suit. He was annoyed at the smallness of the pockets, however. He'd been so used to them being bigger on the inside.

All it took to get him in to the Tyler mansion was a bluff that he was new house staff, son of a friend, you understand, to explain his age, and a flash of the psychic paper. The head matron had simply nodded and directed him to the servants' quarters, given him clothes and put him to work. Very Victorian and very, very easy. They'd redressed him in black tie servants' ware, thereby ruining his disguise. He still wore his glasses but made sure to smooth down his unruly hair, maybe that would at least conceal him a bit better. He rearranged his belongings into his new pockets, just in case. He was put to work tidying with the maids and soon found out the entire layout of the house. What was it dad said? You want to know anything, work in the kitchens.

Of course he couldn't work there all day, even to maintain a good disguise. He'd have to leave before any of the Tyler family returned. He was making his way to Pete Tyler's study to search his computer when he ran into an unexpected problem. She was three feet tall, if that, and had dark brown hair. She had huge curious eyes and was wearing a light blue flowered dress. "Who are you?" Donna Tyler asked curiously as she gazed up at him.

John froze for a second before a smile spread on his face. "I'm John Smith, young mistress," he replied politely, "new house staff." He bowed to her.

She giggled, "That's my Daddy's name," she told him proudly.

"Really?" he asked her, eyes growing huge comically to amuse her.

She laughed again, "well his name is Jonathan but mum calls him Jon," she confirmed. She swung her arms and smiled adorably.

"What does he do?" he asked gently.

"He works at a university – mum says that's a place for clever people like daddy," she told him, swinging her arms.

There was awkward silence between them before she suddenly seized his hand. "Come with me," she commanded and literally dragged him out of the room. They turned down the hall and he had to stumble to keep up. They went down the ornate stairs, dodged the house keeper and ended up in a cosy room at the back of the house.

This was undoubtedly his father's room. His human father's that was. It was filled with books of every size and colour, they lined every wall and filled almost every surface. On one wall there was a black board covered in chalk physics calculations, looked like temporal mechanics. There was a cluttered desk covered in a half finished wires and consoles. John smiled, this was just like his father's room on the TARDIS. It was familiar here, warm.

In the far corner that Donna led him to there was a grand piano, it was clearly old and worn – just how his father would have preferred them. The Doctor loved music, for every Time Lord and TARDIS has their own song, but never particularly indulged in it. That was a task that seemed to be John's alone, he converted the songs he heard on the air and in the minds of others into music and played them for all the world to hear. He'd done it since his dad first showed him how to play when he was four. One day, he'd often sworn, he'd play before an audience and show them the beauty of humanity. The beauty of their song. One day.

Donna sat on the small black stool and looked at him expectantly. Clearly she was a child used to getting her own way in everything. Gingerly he sat next to her. She lifted her small fingers to the keys and began to play. It was a bit disjointed and slow but there was talent there. Her little brow furrowed in concentration as she played for him.

It was a simple tune and when it was done she turned to him once more, "what do you think?" she asked.

"It's very good, young mistress," John told her with a smile.

"That's what everyone says," she grumbled. "But I know they're lying to me." She clearly wasn't happy at the pandering.

"You like playing the piano then?" John asked.

"Yes," she chirped, "my daddy used to teach me but he doesn't have time any more. This old man comes, Mr Jenkins, but he's not very good. Do you like the piano?"

John blinked as the words came at quite a substantial speed. "Yes, yes I do," he smiled, "I love music."

She nodded sagely and then poked him in the ribs, hard. "You play," she ordered.

"Yes, young mistress!" he barked with a mock salute that made her laugh.

It had been a while since he played, a few days before he'd gone for Initiation. But this was like riding a bike. He breathed in and closed his eyes, simply resting his fingers on the keys. He allowed his hands to pick the melody and played from his heart a song he'd written years ago. It wasn't very skilful or overly fast, it was a sentimental song written for a woman his father had known so long ago now. Before John was born at any rate.

He opened his eyes and allowed a grin to cross his face as he played for Donna moving smoothly from one song to another he wrote for her name sake. It was faster and full of joy, full of his memories. Next to him the little girl danced and laughed, this was what music was for.

"Can you teach me to play like that?" she asked with big eyes when he was finished.

"Play like me? Well that's sort of difficult because we're all a bit different. I mean for starters you're a girl! You won't play like me because you don't think like me. I also have far more years experience," he mused but abruptly stopped when he saw her face fall. "But!" he exclaimed to instantly recapture her attention, "I can teach you to play like you." He grinned at her and wiggled his eyebrows.

After a long moment she grinned back.

"How about it?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically and placed her hands upon the black and white keys expectantly.

He placed his hands next to hers, straightened his back and began. He had no idea, of course, how much he looked like his father. He'd donned his black glasses, clever glasses you understand, and began to speak gently and patiently. The tone his father had used so many times with him. "Do you know your notes?" he asked her.

She hummed in thought and slowly nodded her head, "great big dogs bite animals and all cars eat gas," she told him brightly.

It took him a second to recognise the words as anagrams of the musical scales, "right," he said with a laugh. "Well I'm not going to teach you using music."

"You aren't?"

"Nope," he shook his head and turned to her. "Music isn't always something you just play from a piece of paper. It's what's in here," he tapped over her heart, "and what's in here," he tapped her forehead and made her giggle. "There's music all around us, we're all part of it. Playing it out is the hard part."

"I'm music?" Donna asked, confused.

"Yes, yes you are," he said grandly and ruffled her hair. "Don't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" she cocked her head.

"The music, it's around us after all."

"Here?" she asked incredulously, looking around her father's study. Her eyes couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "I don't see anything."

"You don't see music," John told her with a small smile, "you feel it. I can feel music about you and this room. Music communicates without words and language. It whispers to our hearts." These were the words his father had used to explain telepathy to him so long ago when he'd first taught John to sing. This was how he, his father and even the Ood sang to the universe unconsciously. Though his father had actually told him the scientific explanation about engrams and electro fields but he didn't think Donna would understand that.

"Can you show me?" she asked, still confused.

"Of course," John replied and closed his eyes. There was warmth here, happiness, he could feel it in the air and the wood. His left hand unconsciously played a major chord, its merry soft notes filled the room. His right hand then moved a held down a note in the middle of the piano that resonated against the chord. "Can you feel it?" he asked her, opening his eyes.

She shook her head, biting her lip in concentration.

John renewed the chord, "this is the air, old feelings," he told her. His right hand moved to play a soothing rhythm, slow and melodic. "This is a man working quietly, a work he enjoys. A warm evening," he continued.

Donna nodded, imagining her father at his desk. It was almost as if the music was painting the picture.

Suddenly the chord changed to a higher pitched and John's right hand danced in a much happier and faster tune. "This," he said with a grin, "is the books and the thoughts that come when they're read," he told her. He almost began to hum the low tune he'd played in the beginning, the tunes melded together.

Suddenly Donna got it, the strange servant was playing the room for her. Literally describing it and the feelings in it with music. It was amazing! Mr Jenkins had never been able to do that.

John's grin widened as he felt her understand. "Do you want to try?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed at straightened next to him.

"Now, what I want you to do is pick a memory," he told her in his teaching tone, taking his hands off the keys.

Donna nodded and closed her eyes.

"Got one?"

"Yes," she replied after a moment, smiling.

"What is it?" he asked.

"My daddy," she told him, with a firm nod.

John felt his heart clench but continued anyway, "now open your eyes," he said. "Using your left hand play the feeling you get when you see him."

Donna nodded once more and after a second pressed down on the keys. It was in the upper octaves of the piano, well she was young after all, and was a strange major chord. Happiness and curiosity. It was definitely coming from the right place though.

"Very good," he praised her. She puffed out her chest when he told her of course. "Now can you think of a tune for the way he walks? The way he hugs you?"

She bit her lip, "I can't play with both hands," she mumbled, ashamed. She'd only just started after all.

"Oh you'd be surprised," John encouraged her with a broad smile, "just give it a try."

Try she did. The tune was halting and unsure, just a product of her age and lack of teaching. Yet it was still undeniably music and, bit by bit, she was getting better. "See?" he said.

"Yours is still better," she grumbled.

"That is because I am amazing," he told her smugly and she laughed.

"Can you play another one?" she asked eagerly, pulling on his sleeve.

"Well, I suppose," he hedged, he really should get back to what he was doing.

She pleaded with him with huge eyes threatening to cry and he caved instantly.

"How about the one about my home?" he asked her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Your house?" she asked.

"No, my planet," he corrected before he could stop himself. She was four, she wouldn't' say anything right?

"Is it a good song?" she asked, seemingly unaffected.

"It's very, very old. I didn't write it. But I think it's good."

"You feel it?"

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, "you catch on quickly," he remarked and she grinned toothily. He nodded and his hands fell into a familiar rhythm. This was a song plucked from the memories of his father that whispered whenever he, John or even Jenny spoke of their lost home. It was soothing at parts and exciting at others. Ideally he'd play it with an orchestra and not just a piano, two hands just couldn't cover the complexity. But he liked to think he compensated well enough. His hands danced through the exciting tune as it described his culture, their history and his entire planet without words. He knew Donna wouldn't pick up on the telepathic layer that he was singing behind it but it would do.

He came to a sudden stop when he heard the door shut behind him. He spun to see the elderly housekeeper that had employed him, "ma'am," he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, becoming a correct servant in a second.

"Be seated, Mr Smith," she said kindly as she shuffled into the room. "Now what would the two of you be doing?" she said kindly, a smile on her stern features.

"John was teaching me piano," Donna informed her proudly, gesturing it at the instrument behind them. "He's really good!"

John blushed, an act of course, and pretended to look chastised, "I'm sorry, ma'am! I know I'm meant to be in the hall but the young mistress asked and I couldn't refuse her-" he babbled.

"Not to worry, Mr Smith," she soothed him, holding up her hand to halt his explanation. "I have been listening for quite some time by the door and I have never heard the young mistress play so well." She nodded her head sagely, "indeed it was quite the transformation! She has enjoyed this afternoon more than any lesson with Mr Jenkins so by all means proceed, you are relieved of your afternoon duties."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

"This is only this once, Mr Smith," she warned. "I shall also have to send the master to talk to you when he returns." She promptly left. John sensed this was more of a blessing than a curse and that he wouldn't be in any real trouble. He also wouldn't proceed with his much needed devices until tomorrow either. It couldn't' be helped. At least he'd managed to nab some electronics to build things out of. At least he now had enough to build the beginnings of a stabiliser.

He looked at Donna and they shared a conspiratorial grin. "What next?" she asked eagerly.

"Let's do sunbeams," he suggested. Two sets of hands settled on the keys and music filled the air once more.

----

Jonathan Tyler smiled happily at the housekeeper that afternoon as he walked in. She directed him to his study telling him that his daughter and son, Donna and Jack, were practising the piano. This was strange since both of them despised their teacher, Arthur Jenkins. It wasn't really the old man's fault; he was very good at the piano but Jon's children just weren't very good at listening. They quickly became bored.

As he walked through the large house to his study Jonathan Tyler mused how things were going well in his life, despite the strange events of eight years previous. He and Rose had married, they'd fallen in love despite the fact he wasn't the Doctor, not really. Rose loved him as a different man in his own right. It was a good feeling. They'd been married seven years and had two children, both of which shared his adventurous attitude. He was doing a job he enjoyed and lived with those he loved, the adventure he'd always wanted to have. Well the Doctor did. It got a little confusing sometimes.

It could have been some kind of foreshadowing because when he pushed open his study to see his children at the piano it was like the past punched him in the face, but in a good way. The light was painting halos across the floor and the piano glowed with it, well varnished wood glinting. On the long stool in front of it sat Donna and Jack either side of a person who, by their clothing, appeared to be a servant. The limb proportions of the stranger hinted that they were young and there was a slightly wild look about them because of the messy dark hair. He was speaking softly to the children as they played, his hands beating time slowly for them. For the life of him Jonathan had never heard the children play so well.

"Quite the sight, isn't it, sir?" a quiet voice said from beside him.

He turned to see their head housekeeper and smiled, "I've never heard them play so," he agreed. "How long have they been at it?"

"All afternoon, sir," the housekeeper replied. "First miss Donna and then young master Jack, they seemed to be enjoying it so that I didn't wish to pry them away." She too smiled as she looked on the children.

"That long?" Jonathan was duly surprised.

"Oh yes, I believe miss Donna asked young Mr Smith there to help her and things just escalated. I gave him leave of his afternoon duties because the children enjoyed it so, if that is quite alright, sir?"

"Oh yes, yes," Jonathan murmured distractedly.

"Tea, sir?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you." At his words the housekeeper vanished and Jonathan was left back to his observations of the children and this new boy. He was clearly talented and his playing was oddly familiar.

"Like this?" he heard his son ask.

"No," the man disagreed but not cruelly, "you have to feel the music."

The notes chimed again as Jack resumed.

"Can you play again?" Donna pleaded with big eyes and the stranger laughed. Again the laugh was familiar.

"What should I play?" he asked.

"Your home song, it's the prettiest," she wheedled, pulling on his sleeve.

The boy laughed again and his hands seemed to move with a mind of their own. What became apparent was that this boy was very talented and further that he didn't play with musical notes in mind, there was too much emotion. This boy played with his soul as well, the music was an extension of his feelings. Jonathan's eyes widened, he recognised this song only too well.

The boy at the piano in front of him flickered as, involuntarily, a memory jumped before his eyes. In it the light was blue green and the TARDIS thrummed around him. It was a study much like this one but there were even more books. The piano was more beaten, older and more scarred but with a sense of good age, like wine. On the stool before it was a little boy about five with the same wild hair and haphazard dress. His fingers also danced across the keys, a little haltingly due to youth, but the melody was still familiar. Even if it was more elaborate.

He cleared his throat and abruptly those fingers ceased as three sets of eyes turned to look at him. "Donna, Jack," he called softly, "your mother will be home soon, why don't you go wash up?" He watched as they left, lifting them slightly as they hugged him.

The door clicked softly shut and the two left alone in the room stared at each other. Jonathan took in every note of the other's appearance from the servant's wear that was rumpled to his messy brown hair. His son may be bigger and older but he could still see the six year old that he'd had to leave behind. His son was getting to be as tall as him now.

"You've grown," he managed after a second, sounding slightly strangled.

"Yeah," John mused with a laugh, "eight years'll do that."

"How've you been?"

"Oh you know. Same life really, last of our kind and all that," John replied, looking away and shoving his hands in his pockets. "You?"

"Good, yeah. Got married, had kids," Jonathan said with a smile.

"Two great ones from what I've seen."

"You still play I take it? Much better than before I might add."

"Oh yes, can't keep this Time Lord down," John smiled and his fingers twitched unconsciously.

There was a silence. "How did you get here?" Jonathan asked, gaze unwavering.

"Accident, had to open the Cardiff rift for Initiation and it resonated with this one, I just sorta bounced through," John told him, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance.

"Initiation? Already?"

"Well I am sort of overdue you know," John replied as he picked up a photo on the desk and examined it.

"What did you do?" Jonathan leaned forward, eager.

John snorted, "I ran of course, they had to work to catch me."

"My boy," Jonathan said approvingly.

"Sort of."

"Sort of," Jonathan agreed. "What about Rose-"

"No."

"But aren't you the least bit curious?"

John looked up at him and rolled his eyes, "of course I am but this place is a gingerbread house. I have to get home."

"And how are you planing to do that?"

"I'm working on it," John huffed and folded his arms. "Can I go? I have to move on before I cause suspicion."

"Yeah, sorry," Jonathan moved aside so the boy could leave the room.

John went to the door and paused, looking over his shoulder. "It was good to see you, dad," he muttered. "I'm glad you're happy." Then he left.

Jonathan realised he'd glimpsed some of John's pain, repressed for years. He'd sure got good at hiding it. "Good to see you too," he replied to the empty room.

----

What did you think? I know it's a bit of a mishmash but it just sort of happened you know?

The song that John plays about his home planet is one of two things, a piano version of This is Gallifrey - Official Doctor Who soundtrack (you can find it on youtube and things)

OR

I like to think of it as this one: h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = j F W t h - T o Y u E (you'll have to delete the spaces etc)

This is from an anime series called Darker Than Black and the mood of the song just fits John (it's basically a girl playing a song for a mother she barely remembers whose death destrpyed her - fitting I thought. John doesn't remember Gallifrey but the loss greatly saddens him.)

That aside please review! PLEASE! Feed my pathetic ego...

Love you all!

- D