Rose threw her head back and did a little twirl, taking in the kaleidescope of lights swirling above her. Her heels kicked up some of the cotton-like fluff that layered the ground.

"It's so beautiful," she laughed, throwing herself onto a soft cushion of white.

("What is this?" she'd asked earlier.

"You don't want to know," was the short response.)

"Yeah, it is," the Doctor said from somewhere on her left. She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes before he glanced away. "It'd be even better if you had 16 different photoreceptor pigments, like a certain Earth animal. Humans are really very primitive."

"Are you saying I'd be better off as a mantis shrimp?"

"Yeah." He gave her a cheeky grin, brows raised. Rose tried to quell her smile and replace it with a mock scowl, but failed miserably.

A tiny ball of light shot over to her and whizzed through her hair, leaving streams of color intermingled with the blonde strands. She laughed when another tiny ball sped towards the Doctor and impacted his forehead in all its technicolour glory, making his face screw up in distaste. It dizzily spiraled around his head several times before joining its fellow in Rose's hair.

She laid peacefully beside the Doctor for a while, until a flock of lights came over and tickled her into a game of tag. When she finally returned, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.

"Can I - "

"No."

"You're just cross 'cos they like me better," she grinned. He rolled his eyes.

"We don't have the necessary atmospheric conditions to sustain a life form of this composition. The only reason you can still breathe right now is the TARDIS."

"Oh, is that why we're standing here with the doors open? I was wondering about that!"

The Time Lord bustled his companion back into the blue box. "Shoo," he told the little lights. They waggled at him petulantly but shot away when he glared.

Rose plopped herself onto the jump seat and gave him an eager, expectant look. "Where to next?"

"I've finished showing you the most fantastic parts of the universe. Now it's up to you Rose Tyler: where do you want to go?"

"We've done alien planets... Let's go back to Earth."

"Oh."

"I've always wanted to see human history!"

"Oh." He gave her a grin, effectively masking his relief.


"Hold that one down!" The TARDIS shook violently as She shuttled her passengers through the Time Vortex.

"I'm holding this one down!" Rose yelled back.

"Well, hold them both down," the Doctor snapped (rather unreasonably in Rose's opinion).

"Oh, this won't be very big on dignity..." the gymnast stretched her leg over half the console and landed her foot on a doohickey of alien origin.

"Oi!" the Doctor protested as Rose accidentally knocked his hand with her foot.

"Sorry!"

"Now, let's have a look. 1860. How does 1860 sound?"

"What happened in 1860?"

"I don't know, let's find out. Hold on, here we go!"


By the time the blue box landed on a snowy street, the pair of time travelers contained within were lying on the floor.

"Blimey!"

"You're telling me. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so. Nothing broken. Are we there?"

"Earth, Naples, December 24th, 1860."

"It's Christmas!"

"All yours."

"But, just think about it. Christmas in 1860. It happens once, just once... and then it's gone, it's finished, it'll never happen again. Except for you. You can go back and see days that are dead, events that have gone a hundred thousand sunsets ago. I guess it's no wonder you never stay still."

"Not a bad life."

"Better with two," Rose told him, tongue peeking out of her grin. He grinned back at her. "Come on, let's go!"

"Oi, where do you think you're going?"

"1860," she said, raising her brow as she walked towards the door. "I'm wearing a dress, it's not revealing. Isn't it fine?"

"19th century? They'll think you a right prostitute, Barbarella. Unless you want to be stoned, go to the wardrobe and pick out something era-appropriate. Hurry up!"

"Oh, all right."

The Doctor kept grinning though, even after she left.


The Time Lord was working under the console when Rose finally emerged, coiffed and attired for 1860.

"What took you so long?" he grumbled, carefully extracting his head. He looked up.

"I got lost again. Three times! I swear, if it weren't for those arrows pointing my way..." the blonde trailed off as she noticed the Doctor staring at her. "What? Please don't laugh."

"You're beautiful."

"I, um." Colour flooded into Rose's cheeks. "I - oh look, you didn't change clothes again!"

"No I did, look, different jumper."

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped out of the TARDIS onto a pile of fresh snow, grateful for the cold air against her flushed cheeks. The blonde bounced lightly on the balls of her feet a few times as she waited for the Doctor to exit. Rose took a deep breath of the crisp winter air.

I'm witnessing history, and it smells so clean!

The designated driver finally emerged and grinned fondly at her as they started off. As the pair walked down the street, Rose swiveled her head left and right to try to assimilate what she was seeing with her own meagre knowledge of Naples.

"You know, I imagined more catacombs. This doesn't really look like Italy," she absentmindedly told the frowning Doctor.

"No it doesn't." Confused, he went to buy a newspaper and was nearly run over by an rushing hearse.

Rose felt a spark of anger beginning to stir in her gut at the reckless driving, but her temper was quickly quelled by a panicked "Sorry!" from the woman up front.

"I got the flight a bit wrong," the Doctor said as he returned and resumed their walk.

"I don't care," she told him, smiling.

"It's not 1860, it's 1869."

"I don't care."

"And it's not Naples."

"I don't care!" Rose was grinning like a loon now.

"It's Cardiff."

Rose faltered for a moment. "Right." She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Right. Well it's still history, and I'm going to enjoy it."

Screams suddenly erupted from a nearby building.

"That's more like it." The two grinned at each other and ran towards the mass of fleeing people.

"... The whole blooming world can see that!" Rose heard, as she and the Doctor burst into the theater. Something green and translucent flew at the Doctor's head, forcing him to duck.

"Fantastic," he exclaimed as he stood back up.

The last wisps of the green light escaped from a old woman's mouth, and she slumped over.

Rose approached the important looking man on the stage. "What's happening here?" He looked rather disgruntled at the fleeing crowd, so she assumed he knew what'd happened.

"Nothing to worry yourself over. A mere light show meant to scare."

Rose gave the man an incredulous look. That was not a light show.

"Oi, I need to examine that! Where d'you think you're going?" The Doctor was scowling at two people departing with the old woman's body. "Rose, if you've got that, I'll be outside," he told her vaguely, before setting off.

"Be careful!" she called, deftly vaulting onto the stage. The Time Lord merely grunted and kept walking.

Rose addressed the man now in front of her. "Sir, did the... creature... say anything? Do anything? Please describe what happened in detail. I'm- uh- Detective Rose by the way."

"Detective? Aren't you a bit young? You look too high born."

"You have no right to question my life choices," she sniffed, nose angled high. "You aren't my father."

Rose had to abandon her mock-indignation when the green light zoomed at them, forcing the two to duck. When Rose straightened up, she saw the light joining a lamp on the wall and seemingly dissolving into the fire.

"Sir, is that a gas lamp?" she asked the man beside her, still staring at the light source.

"Why yes, of course."

"Then... of course! It's made of gas!" The blonde ran out, eager to tell the Doctor about this new discovery.

When she exited the building, Rose expected the Doctor to be crouching over an old woman, waving his sonic screwdriver about. Instead, what she saw was the top of his head disappearing into the hearse that had nearly crashed into him earlier. A brunette woman slammed shut the doors and ran to the front of the carriage.

"Doctor!" Rose yelled, running towards the horse drawn vehicle.

"Young lady, I demand you tell me what you know about that hobgoblin!" The hearse pulled away and Rose stared after it, clenching her hands into tight fists. "Projection on glass I suppose," the man continued. "What do you think?"

"Please, not now." She frantically looked around. Spotting a nearby carriage, she ran towards it and jumped into the passenger car. "Driver, follow that hearse!"

"You can't do that!"

The man had followed her to the carriage.

"Why not?" she asked, lips twisting into a frown.

"Why not? I'll give you a very good reason why not. This is my coach!"

"Well, come on!" Rose grabbed his arm and swiftly pulled him in. To the driver, she said, "Please, quick as you can!"

The coach rumbled off.

"Everything in order, Mr. Dickens?"

Wait. Wait wait wait wait. You've got to be kidding me!

"No, I can't say it is!" Dickens snapped irritably. "Let me say this first. I'm understand that one may, at times, be in a state of great urgency - "

"Mister Dickens?"

"Yes."

"Mister Charles Dickens?"

"Yes."

"The Charles Dickens?"

"Shall I stop the horses, sir?"

"Oh my God, it's Charles Dickens! You're brilliant! I loved - no, love your books! I've read 'em all, even when it wasn't required school reading..."

Oh no, his books probably aren't required school reading at this point. Quick, distract him.

"... A Tale of Two Cities, Bleak House, Hard Times and - what's the other one, the one with the ghost?"

"A Christmas Carol?"

"No, the terrifying one with the trains... The Signal Man, that's it. I got chills reading it!" Dickens looked very pleased at this sudden outpouring of praise. He luckily had not noticed her faux pas. "The best short story ever written. You're an absolute genius!"

"You want me to escort the lady out, sir?"

"Er, no, she can stay," Charles replied.

"Honestly, Charles - sir, can I call you Charles? I'm really such a big fan."

"...what? A what?"

"A fan! And trust me, you'll be hard pressed to find a bigger one."

"How exactly are you a fan? In what way do you resemble a means of keeping oneself cool? And you are not nearly as large as you say."

"Oh, do they not have - " she cut herself off. No need to let him know she was from a different century. "It means 'fanatic', as in someone devoted to or admiring of something. Mind you, I've got to say, you really didn't have to try so hard to incorporate humor into Great Expectations. I would have preferred it if you'd let it be more serious, like A Tale of Two Cities."

"Well that's not what the people wanted, now was it? You wouldn't believe how much they fussed and moaned!" He gave her a disgruntled look. "I thought you said you were my fan."

"Sorry, I just thought it was a bit rubbish. The greatest instructor of the Nineteenth Century, and he's pandered to the whims of the superficial masses."

Remembering that Dickens could kick her off the vehicle at any moment, Rose glanced sideways to gauge his reaction - only to see the author looking rather chuffed.

"'The greatest instructor of the Nineteenth Century'? Is that what they call me these days?"

"Uh, yeah, yes - " in your obituary, that is. "They said that your social commentary was exquisite, and, erm... Driver! We need to go faster!"

The carriage picked up speed.

"So why exactly are we chasing that hearse?"

"My friend is in there. I asked him to bring me here, so in a manner of speaking, it's my fault that he's in danger. I need to get to him, make sure he's not hurt."

"Then why are we wasting time talking about dry old books? This is much more important. Driver! Be swift! The chase is on!"

"Yes sir!"

Rose gave Dickens a delighted grin. "Charlie, has anyone told you you're rather brilliant?"

"You did, actually. Twice. Did you just say Charlie?"

"Isn't that what women called you?"

"Well, yes."

"Well then!" Rose rubbed her hands together as the hearse neared a funeral home. "Ready for a rescue operation, Charlie boy?

"No time like the present, madame."


Personally, I imagine the white fluff is made up of layers of dead sparkle-bugs (no, they aren't really bugs). The sparkle-bugs don't rot, since they aren't organic, but neither do they live forever - and the dead carcasses have to go somewhere.

Other possibilities: sparkle-bug defecation, sparkle-bugs that aren't dead but have lost their energy, remnants of the long dead previous inhabitants of the planet, or fungus.

Sorry guys, but I really need to study for AP, so I'll be posting shorter chapters. So, 3 or 4 updates of around 2000-3000 words per plot related adventure, instead of two 4000/5000 word installments. Also, sorry for taking so long to get this one up!

Q: Rose punches Sneed. Yes or no? (Actually this does have plot-related consequences, but not because of Sneed's reaction. If you give me nice long review, I'll tell you why, so you can make an informed answer! :3)

Please review lovelies!