Happy Monday everyone! Posting this week's update in the evening rather than while on my lunch break to see if I get any more traffic. Why hasn't anyone reviewed? I mean, I don't like to beg, but really. If this story is good, let me know. If it is bad, also let me know. I can take it!

CHAPTER 3

STARWATCH: VITEX FOUNDER FINDS DEAD WIFE ALIVE, DAUGHTER AND BEAU IN TOW

Vitex founder Pete Tyler's household has recently added three new members. The multi-billionare was recently spotted with his new brood at the shopping mall with a woman who strongly resembles his late wife, Jacqueline Tyler, and another younger couple. Close family friend Rickey Smith confirms that the woman is indeed his wife, back from the dead, or so it seems. Apparently, Mrs. Tyler had run away after the metal men crashed her birthday party, and was only presumed dead. Remains were never found. But, interestingly, what was found was the Tyler's long-lost daughter, Rose, who the couple had secretly given up for adoption, twenty years ago, before Pete created Vitex and made himself a household name all over the world. Rose is a beautiful blonde bombshell, but back off, boys! It would appear that Ms. Tyler is taken. Accompanying her is the mysterious Dr. John Smith, a scientist of some kind. Next to nothing is known about him, but yours truly will be finding out everything there is to know and post it here first. So stay tuned for updates. - Ms. Donna Noble, contributor, for StarWatch.

"That Donna Noble's always a good read," Pete Tyler intoned as he looked over the shoulder of Jackie, who was reading the gossip rag. "I'm surprised that she hadn't cottened on to you all's sudden appearance sooner."

"I always used to love reading the celebrity gossip back in the other universe," Jackie sighed. "Bit different when you're the one in it."

"Don't let it bother ya, love. It's just a bit of fun. They don't mean anything by it." Pete chuckled. "I've actually met Ms. Noble a couple of times. Feisty thing. Ginger. Loud. She once told me that she actually hates her job, because she hates intruding on celebrities and their personal business, but the pay is good. She's just doing it until something better comes along. I think she was hoping I'd offer her a job, honestly."

Jackie just sniffed in response. Rose, who had just come into the sitting room from the kitchen with a fresh cuppa, asked, "Why dontcha offer her one, then?"

"To go from writing celebrity rags to selling Vitex from door-to-door? Who'd want to do that? That's the only position I had at the time," he replied.

"What about Torchwood?" suggested Rose.

It had been a little over a month since Canary Wharf, and with the Doctor's help, Pete had almost completely reformed Torchwood overnight. The Doctor had been reluctant to help at first, but upon learning that this universe had no UNIT, he had very quickly decided to help Pete transform his agency into this universe's equivalent. Plus, it gave him almost unlimited access to all of the alien tech he could ever want or need, including some bits and bobs that he cobbled together into some very impressive technology aimed at finding a way back to the TARDIS.

"I don't think so," Pete replied to his newfound daughter's suggestion. "The last thing we need right now is an inexperienced nobody mucking things up."

"Hey!" Rose shouted, affronted. "For your information, I was an inexperienced nobody when the Doctor found me. Silly little shop girl with barely a penny to her name, and no A-Levels either."

"You went to school in the States?"

"No. London."

"Oh, they only do A-Levels in the United States of Great Britain, in this universe. Here, you just get a high school diploma."

Now Jackie was stunned. She threw down her magazine."The United States of what? This isn't just a parallel universe. This is bloody opposite land!" Ignoring Rose, she stormed out of the room.

Rose stared sadly after her mother. Their relationship had gone from chilly immediately after Canary Wharf to downright frigid in the weeks since. Rose knew that her Mum was still upset at how everything had gone down, but didn't she understand that Rose loved her still? She'd love to tell her that, but Jackie never gave them a chance to.

"Don't worry, love. She'll come round, eventually," Pete told her.

Rose huffed. "Sorry, Pete. You keep forgetting that my Mum is almost but not exactly the same as your late wife. Let me tell you, no one can hold a grudge like Jackie Tyler!"

He laughed. "That, my dear, is true no matter which universe she originates from! Though it is true that there are some slight differences between them. My first Jackie would never get obsessed over a show on the telly. Fashion magazine, maybe. But never a telly show. And now this Jackie goes on and on and on about some show that I don't think we even have in this universe! East, East Wing... Eastern... Something."

Rose laughed. "Eastenders. Blimey. She used to watch that show religiously, and then when I'd come home to visit, she'd start talking about the characters on the show as if they were real people and as if I knew what she was talking about." She laughed again, and then sighed. "I used to dread those conversations. Now... I miss her. I wish she'd talk to me."

"About a show on the telly?"

"About anything, I guess. I just wish she'd forgive me for choosing the Doctor over her. I know it hurt her, but can't she see that it hurt me as well, and that this... this whatever it is, is hurting me?" Unbidden tears welled in her eyes.

"Hey, none of that," her would-be father chided. "I hope you know that even though your mother isn't talking to you right now, you can always talk to me. I don't have much experience with being a dad, but I've always wanted to be one, and I'd like to try, if that's alright."

She smiled at him, albeit weakly. "Thanks," she sniffed. "And I don't have much experience having a dad, so whatever you do will be amazing in comparison."

"Perhaps we'll learn this whole dad thing together."

"Yeah, perhaps we will." She smiled again, and found it returned by Pete.

"So, I was wondering, besides no Eastenders and the name of the States and such, what other differences have you seen between the universes?" he inquired.

"Well, the big thing is that we're still a monarchy back home with a queen, princesses, and such," Rose remarked.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Queen Elizabeth II is still on the throne in her eighties. She's reigned for over fifty years. Her eldest son is Prince Charles, and her eldest grandson is Prince William. That's the line of succession so far. Though, they're really just figureheads, they don't really make laws and such anymore. That's up to the Prime Minister and Parliament."

"Very interesting! Here, we abolished the monarchy with King George and the revolution in the colonies. Had a revolution of our own, we did. That's how the States are still part of Britain."

"Wow! That's... very different! I was wondering how that happened. That's a pretty major historical difference."

Pete nodded.

"Other things I've noticed are just little things," Rose continued. "Like, some foods taste different. Back home, my favorite food was chips. Here, chips, or rather, I guess it's the potatoes, taste like carrots, and carrots taste like chips."

"That's why you've been munching like a rabbit, then."

"It's much more figure friendly," Rose laughed. "Oh, and peaches taste like apples, apples taste like bananas..."

"And bananas taste like pears!" interrupted the horrified voice of the Doctor, who had just burst in the front door from who knows where he'd been, and immediately ran off to the loo to gargle with mouthwash to get the horrible taste out of his mouth.

Pete just stared after him with a bemused expression, while Rose laughed quietly, picked up the remainder of the Doctor's hastily discarded fruit, shrugged, and munched away.

-DW-

With each passing day, the Doctor's frustration grew. His devices had been able to track a substantial number of tears in the fabric of reality, but they either quickly healed themselves, or were too small for anything to pass through, or both. Several times, the Doctor had had to travel to one location or the other to manually heal the tears with his sonic screwdriver.

He began clocking longer and longer hours in the lab, desperation driving him towards obsession. At first, Rose would spend her days at his side, handing him this or that, or just talking with him while he worked like they used to. But as the Doctor began to work well before dawn, and continued to work until well after the sun went down, Rose had grown increasingly weary, and stayed with him for only a few hours at a time before she left.

She was worried about him. Oh, she knew that he had to get back to the TARDIS, and while she strongly encouraged his efforts, she had to admit that she missed him. Which was silly, really, because they saw each other everyday. But Rose couldn't remember the last time that they had had a meaningful conversation, except maybe in the darkness on their first night here. Rose had thought that after that first night, despite everything, they might have actually turned a corner in their relationship. But when she awoke the next morning, she'd found him to be as distant as ever, and that distance only seemed to be growing.

But that wasn't really what bothered her the most. The Doctor simply did not look good. He had lost some weight, his face took on a haggard appearance, his eyes grew dull, and he hadn't shaved since he arrived. In fact, Rose mused to herself, he is really starting to resemble that bloke, DI Hardy, I saw on the news last night, who has been investigating that horrible child murder over in Broadchurch. He had appeared to crumple in upon himself, and it broke Rose's heart. She wanted to help him, but she had never felt so helpless before in her entire life.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't try.

"Doctor?" Rose knocked on the door to the loo where the Doctor was still gargling.

The Doctor spat. "Yeah?"

"Please don't tell me that you're going back tonight."

"I have to. Rose, did you know that two gaps opened last night while I was here? Gaps that looked as if they were large enough and just stable enough? But they had closed by the time I got there this morning. I can't afford to miss another!" His pleading eyes bore into her, begging for her to understand.

"Isn't there some way you can make your devices portable, and bring everything you need here? Or, I dunno, maybe you can cobble together some kind of alarm or something? I know why you're obsessed with this, but you're starting to scare me! When was the last time you had a proper meal? When was the last time you bathed? Or when was the last time you even looked in a bloody mirror?! I'm worried about you, Doctor!" Her eyes began to shine with unshed tears.

The Doctor raised his head to look at her reflection over his shoulder in the mirror, too afraid and ashamed to look at her directly. He gasped when he saw his own face. Oh, he knew it was bad, but he didn't realize it was this bad!

"Rose, I... Rose, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And Rose, I think I need help. Will you help me?"

Slowly, she walked forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You don't even need to ask. What can I do?"

"First, I think I need to build that alarm you suggested. But after that... the TARDIS always used to help me with things like this. I'm real rubbish at taking care of myself, especially when I'm focused on a task. I..." his voice trailed of.

"You want me to take care of you?" Rose asked, quietly.

"I'm not asking you to mother me, per se, but, the TARDIS always used to produce a sandwich or something next to me when I needed to eat, and sometimes when things got real bad, she'd rearrange the rooms so no matter where I went, the only room I could get to was my bedroom when she thought I needed sleep. I guess I've grown dependent on her... doing that."

"So you want me to bring you lunch and force you to sleep somehow?" she queried. "I think I can manage that," she teased, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I've become obsessed. It's just that I... well, I... I'm scared, Rose!"

Rose wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Oh, it felt so good to have him back, even if he was a good bit skinnier and scruffier than usual. "I understand. And I'm the one who's sorry, Doctor. I should've offered to help you sooner." She dropped her embrace, and turned him to face her. "Alrighty then, how long will it take for you to make an alarm thingy?"

"I dunno. Maybe an hour?" He shrugged.

"Then go. Make the alarm. And I'll pick you up in an hour. And when you come home, I'll be sure to have quite a dinner spread for you. Then you're gonna shower, and shave, and you, Mister," she said, poking him in the chest, "are going to sleep tonight!"

"Home?" the Doctor queried.

Rose hadn't even caught what she'd said. "I meant when you come back."

"But you said 'home'! This isn't home, Rose! Home is not in this universe!"

Rose was silent for a moment, then quietly replied, "Maybe home for me is not a place, Doctor. It's a person. You. You're home."

The Doctor could only stare, gobsmacked, after her as she turned and walked out the room.

-DW-

The Doctor's dinner that night was carryout: fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, cole slaw, warm dinner rolls, and of course, carrots for Rose. But it was the homemade dessert that really made the Doctor's day.

"Why, Rose! I do believe this apple crisp tastes like bananas!" he grinned. The expression warmed Rose's heart. It was a long way from the warm smiles that she had known, but it was more than she had seen from him in weeks.

After dinner, and a shower and a shave, the Doctor set up his newly constructed Void alarm. Confident now that he wouldn't miss another viable gap, he changed into his pyjamas. But he was hesitant as he approached Rose.

His head was so empty without the TARDIS.

-DW-

The Doctor lied in bed, exhausted, with a warm pink and yellow human curled up next to him and snoring softly. But try as he might, he just could not join her in sleep. He tried solving every single complicated mathematical equation that he could think of. He tried closing his eyes and lying very still. He even resorted to the lowly human method of counting sheep. Still, he lied there, staring at the ceiling, completely wide awake.

This was not a matter of Time Lords not needing much sleep, nor of him pushing back his sleep cycle. This was insomnia, pure and simple. He had not had insomnia this bad since just after the Time War, when the nightmares kept him awake for months before he finally keeled over in the console room mid-flight. Luckily, the TARDIS had seen it coming and materialized a mattress and pillow, breaking his fall. It was a good thing she had, or Rose would have likely met a man in pinstripes instead of leather.

Rose. She had been such a balm to his weary soul, and helped him in ways that she would likely never know. The first time the Ninth Doctor was actually able to fall asleep in his own bed was the first night that she had spent on board. Over time, the frequency of his nightmares had decreased. Frustratingly, the Tenth Doctor realized that those dreams were replaced by dreams of a completely different variety, and they all starred the human who was sleeping peacefully in his arms.

But everything changed at Canary Wharf. Though one could say that the change actually began at Krop Tor with the beast's frighteningly accurate assessments, and especially his proclamation of "the Valiant Child who would die in battle." He had been tense, and on edge since then. He was able to sleep, but it was fitful. He was certain that she would be snatched away from him at any given moment, and she almost was. Doubtlessly, Rose was declared dead in the original universe. Could this have been what the beast meant? The Doctor wished that he could know for sure.

He also wished that that was the only worry keeping him awake. Canary Wharf had changed everything in an instant. He lost the TARDIS: his beloved ship, as Rose had noted earlier, his last tie to Gallifrey, had become his home, and was his oldest friend in every sense of the word. When he lost her, he had also lost his way of life: he could no longer up and go wherever or whenever he pleased. He had lost his identity. Who was he if he could no longer fly around in his TARDIS and defend the universe?

How much longer would it be until he was trapped here forever? Even now, his mental connection with his brilliant ship was so strained that his mind physically ached with the effort of reaching her. What if all the gaps closed for good? What would he do, then?

Suddenly, his mind was filled, unbidden, with images of Rose. Actually, he realized, they were images of him and Rose together: the two of them, working for Torchwood, running hand in hand from the latest creature that invaded Pete's World, and emerging victorious. Of Rose, in an elegant white dress, clasping hands with him and proclaiming vows of forever. Of himself playing on the floor with a young, blonde haired girl who called him "Daddy," while Rose, heavily pregnant with another child, cooked dinner. It was horribly domestic, and yet, the Doctor found that the images fill him with an inexplicable joy.

Yet, his joy was tempered with grief, for he knew exactly who had sent him those images. "Thank you, Old Girl," he whispered. If only I didn't feel that you were telling me goodbye.

He still couldn't sleep, but at least he felt at peace.