Explanation transferred by lip.

Rose put a hand to John's chest, half of fright, then to push away. Gently. Having felt that he used a gentle force to reclaim her.

Although slightly relieved to have a break Rose found the whole situation unfair. With it being reminiscent of a kiss shared when her body had not been her own. Only reversed.

For a second time she held him at bay, drawing herself back for an appropriate distance.

Rose couldn't help but smirk impassively at the familiar trance set upon John Smith's face, and softly told him, "listen. I know what this is. You're trying to sate the fire within you with actions. Let's use words." He appeared to still be coming back to himself, so she went on. "Learned that from Mum trying to rationalize her dramas. Never made sense to me, yelling, screaming, and suddenly a kiss solves it all. Doesn't in the long run. Still. Turns out anger and passion go hand in hand."

"If I must hold this within me a moment more I fear I may no longer be sane." John swooped in. Only to meet Rose's palm snaked between them. He relented, letting go to speak. No longer at top volume, yet fumed nonetheless. "You wish to talk? What more can we understand? I am fake. Yet that is only a start. This world is fake. Who's to say it is not? The people crawling upon its fragile skin; false!"

A bell chimed, small in the distance. The school, Rose remembered. Her short time there: his whole life.

And in all of it, an answer.

"So what," she heard herself saying.

Baffled, John ceased his pace.

"If I told you the TARDIS created me as well—"

"You would be lying."

"—would it make any difference?" He blinked, eyes keen on her implications. She shrugged. "What does it matter if we came into this world naturally or not. We're here. And that's all that matters. Do your origins make you any less capable of teaching those children? You've told me countless times how knowledge would gleam from their eyes," her tone a beseeching awe, "understanding by your hand. The happiness you've felt from that, does it feel any less real than what you're feeling now?"

John loosely shook his head. A rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. "That blue machine..."

"Like I said she gave you history. She didn't tell you how to experience the present. That's you, Mister Smith. You think she planned that you reject your backstory? To make this problematic if the truth unfolded? The TARDIS's sentient, yeah, but I highly doubt she can play god." Her hands dropped to her sides. "You're in control of your emotions, because we sure as hell aren't."

He swiftly exhaled, an almost laugh.

Rose pointed her toe to the ground, confidence building. "Proof of that is, if the TARDIS wanted you here, now, you wouldn't be. Cause she likes me. I hope. Meaning she wouldn't make you as difficult as you've already been."

John managed to look marginally offended, if a bit lethargic. "Difficult?" He asked. "Me?"

Rose lightly chuckled. "Yeah, you." Then bit her lip. Turning to Farringham. "Let's head back. No more lies." She offered her hand. "I'll tell all you can stand to hear about who you really were, and you can accept it however you want. Alright?"

John watched her fingers wiggle, a sort of beckoning. To leave here the same as he arrived. Carrying the same burden.

Yet lighter.

Coming to terms with his existence. Learning of what choices are his to make felt cleansing. However, throwing away a past he treasured dearly.

Starting anew.

It's her that tore a hole in the foundation of his soul. Let him fall. It's her that welcomed him back with an open hand as well. For that matter, should he trust her? From the murkiness of a chasm she pushed him into he weighed her offer. The darkness and seclusion suffocating, dimming his focus to her alone. And in that moment, his only thought on how he never wanted to be alone.

The loneliness encompassing John paled as he took her hand.

Rose wove memories into tales of legend.

A fantastical Doctor who mends the universe.

Creatures of all calibers. Adventures beyond suns, into stardust unimaginable.

And déjà vu underlining every word.

"This Doctor is surely a work of art," John Smith curtly noted into his tea.

"Yeah," Rose agreed, a hint of question in her smile.

Crinkling his brow, John wondered why this did not hit well. Dreams once a puzzle, to know their true meaning, should bubble elation in his chest. So marvelous had this Doctor been... yet...

"Really great hair," Rose gushed, tongue in tooth. "Only got my hands through it twice, mind."

John scoffed. "Is his hair not my own?"

"There's this gel, yeah," Rose explained. "He would style it into this—" her fingers curled into her skirt. "And his sideburns."

"Rose."

Rose cleared her throat. "Right, um." She examined the clock. "Blimey, is it really so late?"

"I've noticed," he acknowledged. "Time does not null your promise."

"Jenny's sweet," Rose cringed, "no doubt she picked up my afternoon chores. I'll have to thank her."

John's shoulders fell at her spiral of thoughts. Rose's capacity for attention falling short when her precious hours meant for rest are threatened.

"Curfew," he said, "does constrict how much we can discuss. Perhaps we continue tomorrow?"

"Yes," she sighed relief, gathering dishes onto a tray.

John leaned back, fingers drawn together in thought. Amazing. To have heard of the Doctor's outlandish activities and not curled his lip once. In all honesty, the majority of her stories should be disputed. Scandalous as they were. Yet the same way he accepted her peculiar behavior, the Doctor's adventures seemed just as right. Believable as they were, "aliens," he murmured. "Such a concept, passed down in novels. To think them real should be impossible. Yet, by some unexplainable accounts, I know it to be truth."

"That body once was one if it counts." She said, a rueful smile on her lips.

For two days the breaks Rose gave the TARDIS went to John.

Silently he absorbed her experience of the Doctor. In no particular order she recounted the events. He paid no mind.

Such is who he is as of late. Less sure of himself. More partial to observe than speak. And above all his questions go to her. Even of an opinion. Rose worried if this affected how he handled his students, and checked him regularly in the classroom. A quick peek. Business as usual— aside from a stutter on the occasions he notices her. And Rose hums gleefully through work.

Come their next meet she nibbled a biscuit thinking of what to tell.

John changed that. "May I ask of you?"

"Me?" She laughed him off. "I'm what you see, trust me."

"Please. If only your background." His bright eyes implored her. "I feel I know nothing of you now."

"Alright..." Rose leaned forward, weight on her knees. Uniform days, a lousy job, and incomplete A levels. A short story for a less than memorable part of her life. Dreary to remember, yet it enraptured him all the same.

"Humble beginnings," he said, a grin growing.

She snorted. "As if it's charming."

He smirked, eyes downcast. "As one far from disenchanted from a semblance of normalcy, I'd say yes, it's quite charming."

She tried a smile. "In that case, thank you." Stuffing down another biscuit before her foot could make it in. "Was mostly me an' Mum." She swallowed. "Then I met the Doctor."

"What of your father?" John inquired.

"That's..." The one she grew up without, the one she met, or the parallel? "Complicated."

"Estranged?"

"No, he's dead."

Blunt. Enough so that John reeled. Spilling tea as he pitched forward. "I'm terribly sorry!"

"No, it's fine!" She hastily provided a napkin. As he cleaned, she clarified. From the beginning without her father. Down the line to another universe. John's genuine interest allowing Rose to confide in him personal thoughts amid her recounts.

It left a hole. Thinking of the chances she had to keep Pete in her life, ending like waking from a dream.

Her face carefully blank, John witnessed her near fiction finally come alive. The heartstrings sewn into this piece so much more than another mythical exploit.

John took her hand, and out of a reverie. "Thank you for imparting his treasured memory." A month, weeks, and days after meeting Rose. Today marks the first glimpse of who she really is.

A/N

I need a tally. Okay so, you ever read a fanfiction where Rose insults the Doctor's driving. This goes back and forth, one mentioning how she missed an entire year. And maybe even the Doctor asking if he'll ever live that down? It's a rehash used so many times. Not that it's necessarily bad, there are clever variations. I've just come to the point that when the tell-tale signs present themselves, and it goes down exactly as I expect, my head reunites with the desk and I can't.

MirrorFlower and DarkWind: Happy you enjoyed it. Thank you for the review!

Demonic Host: True, John's got it tough, but for now that's the worst of it. Haha, and if you want more fuel, I believe the following chapters should suit that nicely. Thank you for reading!