To all of you who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story- Thank you, and I love you forever!

To the guest who left me a review about my portrayal of Gallifreyan physiology, three things. One, it wasn't a mistake. Since this is fan fiction, that means I can take whatever creative license I please. Two, as most of Classic Who is not available on Netflix, that makes it very hard for new Whovians like me to get to know the First Doctor, which I think is a crime and a shame, but there it is. All I have to go on is what I get from New Who. Three, in the Season 4 episode, "The Doctor's Daughter," Jenny was born with two hearts. She didn't need to regenerate to get the second. So, that's why I had Emma born with two hearts. Now, I still appreciate the feedback, positive or negative, and I would have explained in a message if I could have, but I still wanted you to know why I made the choices I did. And I've read lots of other stories on this site that made the same choice I did.

Anyway, enough of that. You're all here to read the story, not listen to me blather about the inner workings of my brain. By the way, this chapter is absolutely nothing but sugar-coated fluff.

Chapter Eleven: Lullabies and Laughter

Rose woke, aware that something was a bit out of place, but not able to put her finger on what it was. The baby wasn't crying, the alarm clock wasn't blaring, her phone wasn't ringing, nothing. In fact, the bedroom was silent, for a change. She opened her eyes and turned her head, and was surprised to find the Doctor's side of the bed empty. Well, that explained why she'd woken up. She never slept well without him beside her, hadn't since she'd gotten him back from the parallel universe.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown, and moved to check on her daughter in the crib at the foot of the bed. When she found the crib empty, she knew immediately what must have happened. Emma must have woken up and fussed, waking the Doctor, but she herself must have slept through it. Rather than waking her, the Doctor must have taken the baby downstairs to the living room to take care of her, letting Rose sleep. She smiled slightly to herself. It was sweet of him, but given that she couldn't sleep without him, it was something of a moot point. She had woken up anyway.

She padded out of the bedroom and down the stairs in her bare feet, and stopped at the doorway into the living room, an instant, loving smile on her face at the sight of the scene before her.

Sitting there, perched in the brand-new rocking chair that Jackie had insisted on giving them, was the Doctor, lovingly cradling their daughter in his arms as he fed her a bottle. Just the picture they made was enough to make her feel all gooey inside, but to top it off, the Doctor was singing softly to their daughter. The Oncoming Storm, lovingly and expertly cradling an infant and singing a lullaby in a shockingly lovely light tenor voice. Rose thought that she might just melt into a puddle right then and there.

He hadn't noticed her yet, being too wrapped up in Emma and his lullaby, which Rose recognized as being in Gallifreyan. She picked up a few stray words, like "love," "time," and "home," and took a second to marvel at how similar the Gallifreyan lullaby seemed to be to the Earth ones she'd grown up with. It never ceased to amaze her how some concepts seemed to be shared and understood throughout the universe, how some things were constant in almost all cultures. Everywhere the Doctor had ever taken her, where there had been infants, someone had been singing a lullaby. Soft, sweet, gentle songs with simple, reassuring lyrics meant to calm and soothe. This one seemed especially beautiful to Rose, partly because of the sweet, beautiful melody, partly because of the rich, melodic sound of the Doctor's language, but mostly just because it was her Doctor singing it to their daughter.

Rose watched, smiling, as Emma apparently finished her bottle and made a cute little baby gurgle, which quickly turned into a yawn. The Doctor smiled that tender smile that only Rose and Emma ever saw as he finished his lullaby and set the bottle aside, adjusting his grip on Emma so he could hold her up to his shoulder and burp her. That accomplished, he settled her back in the crook of his elbow and pulled the burping cloth from his shoulder and set it aside, still murmuring softly to her in Gallifreyan. Rose felt a brief pang over her persistent inability to master the beautiful language. She was making progress, but it was coming very slowly. The only thing that held back her feelings of inadequacy on that score was that the Doctor insisted it was nearly impossible for a human to really master Gallifreyan, and that the progress she'd made was astounding. Still, she wished it was easier, as she desperately wanted for him to be able to hear his native language from another's lips. Having been in his mind so many times, she knew how much that would mean to him, and she also knew how much it meant to him that she was trying.

Still, their daughter would grow up learning and speaking that language, as would any other children that they might have in the future. The beautiful, nearly dead language of time would be spoken again, by a new race of Timelords continuing on. The Doctor was no longer the last of his kind.

Rose shifted slightly against the doorframe, drawing the Doctor's attention. He smiled up at her, and beckoned her into the room.

"Sorry, love. I was hoping if I brought her down here we wouldn't wake you up. You need your rest," he said softly.

She walked up next to him and ran her fingers through his hair, absently playing with his messy locks. He leaned into her caresses with a happy smile and made a noise of contentment deep in his throat. "You know I can't sleep without you, Doctor," she replied, just as quietly.

"Yeah, well, I was hoping to get Emma sorted and get back to you before you noticed I was gone. How long were you standing there?"

She smiled gently. "Long enough to know that you have a very nice singing voice, my husband," she complimented him, and grinned, elated, when he actually blushed.

"I, well, um… thank you, Rose, I guess," he stammered, and she got the impression that if he hadn't had both hands occupied by holding their daughter, he would have been tugging on his ear. She giggled a bit, but decided to leave off teasing him for a bit.

"It was a beautiful lullaby, too. What's it mean? I only caught a few words," she admitted ruefully.

He smiled at her, his embarrassment fading. "Basically, it's like any other lullaby," he said. "It's an old song, from before the Timelords got to be quite so stuffy about emotions. Even after that, though, people still felt strongly about their children, even if they never expressed a strong emotion at any other time in their lives. Translates roughly to, oh, 'Go to sleep, my darling, you're home and you're safe, and I will love you till the end of Time,'" He stopped, and frowned slightly. "It's a lot more poetic in the original."

Rose chuckled softly. "I'm sure it is. Most songs are better in their original language, don't you think?"

"Mostly," he said, and she fought down a smirk as she watched him transition into 'lecture mode.' "There's this planet called Halitraxus, where their native language sounds so harsh and unmusical that they actually require all song lyrics and poetry to be translated into other languages."

"What, seriously?" Rose laughed outright at that.

He shushed her. "I am trying to get our daughter to go back to sleep, you know," he pointed out.

She quieted, but her eyes still twinkled with merriment. "Sorry. That was just funny."

He grinned. "I know." He paused for a moment, then rambled on. "A very strange lot, the Halitraxians. Very intelligent, but almost no ability to create or imagine. Their music and art are a bit… hilarious, so they tend to latch on to the musicians and artist of other cultures. Because of that, their artistic circles turn into these bizarre patchworks, with bits taken from all over the galaxy."

"Doctor," she interrupted him quietly. "She's not going to go back to sleep if you keep babbling like that."

The Doctor glanced down at Emma, and found that sure enough, she was staring up at him, her brown eyes bright and focused, looking for all the world like she was listening to every word he said. Which, he thought, was probably true. She was part Timelord, and therefore very intelligent, and the Doctor knew that babies understood a lot more of what went on around them than humans gave them credit for. Being able to speak baby meant that he could follow the thoughts of any infant, and there was a lot more going on in those little heads than anyone realized.

When he'd first told Rose he could speak baby, she'd been quite sure he was having her on. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to make a believer out of her. Then, of course, she had found out that the TARDIS didn't translate baby speak, which she thought was hilarious. There were only two languages that the TARDIS didn't translate: the ancient, mighty language of the Timelords, and baby talk. Rose still hadn't stopped teasing him about that. Personally, he didn't see what was so funny about it. It wasn't like Gallifreyan had anything in common with Baby, it was just a quirk of the TARDIS, but Rose didn't see it that way.

Emma stretched and wiggled, drawing his full attention back to his beloved little daughter. His eyes traced her perfect little features, in which he could already see his wife, in everything except the eyes. His eyes, which he was still convinced looked better on Emma's face.

"She really is perfect, isn't she?" he murmured softly, his voice full of wonder. "Our little miracle."

Rose smiled lovingly, and bent down to kiss Emma's cheek. They both grinned when they felt a wave of happiness and contentment from Emma's mind. "Yeah, she is," Rose said in reply to his earlier observation.

After a moment, Rose gently took Emma from the Doctor's arms so that he could stand without jostling her, and she carried their daughter back upstairs to the bedroom while he dealt with the used burping cloth and the empty bottle. He joined her back upstairs just as she was settling Emma back in her crib. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her gently against him as they looked down at their daughter, who gave an adorable little yawn and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

They continued to smile down at her for a long moment, basking in the joy their daughter had given them and the love they felt for her and each other, which seemed to grow with each passing day. Rose leaned her head into her Doctor's shoulder, and he transferred his gaze down to her, smiling into her eyes.

"We should probably get some rest," he said, directly into her mind so as to not risk waking Emma.

She agreed, just as silently, and they slipped into their bed after Rose turned off the lamp. He pulled her close and she snuggled into his arms, quite convinced that there was no way she could ever be happier than she was right now. As she drifted back to sleep, he caught the edge of that thought from her mind, and he had to agree. He had his beautiful wife, his beautiful daughter, a home, a family, and their TARDIS, which he could hear humming in the back of his mind. Life didn't get any better than this.

0-0-0-0-0

Several months later…

The Doctor gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to imagine what his ninth self would have done if he could see what he was doing right now. That version probably would have fallen over laughing at the sight of him trying (and failing) to get a spoonful of baby food into the mouth of his squirming, stubborn daughter. She did not want to eat that. It smelled bad, the texture was nasty, and she was informing him in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of cooperating. She wanted to know why he couldn't give her any decent food, since Mummy didn't seem to have any trouble in that department.

He sighed theatrically and stuck the spoon back in the jar and set it aside, running his free hand distractedly through his hair. It was getting a bit long again, and he needed a haircut. Rose was always teasing him about how vain he was, particularly about his hair, but he knew she loved it.

He shook himself slightly. Thinking about his hair (and his wife's appreciation of it) was not helping him figure out how to get his daughter to eat her breakfast.

"Come on, Emma, it's not that bad," he whined at her, and groaned when she giggled. "Here, see? I'll prove it to you." He stuck his finger in the jar and licked it, trying to prove a point, and nearly spat it out. Emma crowed in triumph in his mind, giggling aloud and waving her little fists, knowing there was no way he'd make her eat that stuff now. "Bleagh! Pears! Okay, you had a point. I'll find something else, and I'll be sure to tell your mother to never buy pear again. I know I didn't buy that. Sorry, love, I'll just chuck this out and see if we've got any banana left."

Emma babbled happily as he got to his feet and chucked the offending jar of pear baby food in the bin and rinsed off the spoon before rummaging in the fridge and coming out with a jar of banana-flavored food. "Ha!" he cried triumphantly, grabbed a clean spoon, and settled down in front of his daughter again. "Now, let's try this again, shall we?"

He scooped up a spoonful and deposited it in Emma's open mouth with no difficulty whatsoever, and shook his head. "You really are my daughter, aren't you?" he teased her lightly. "Won't touch a pear with a ten-foot pole, but you'll eat anything with a banana in it. Daddy's little girl, you are."

"Daddy!"

He stopped, another spoonful of baby food halfway to Emma's mouth, and stared at her. "What?" he stammered stupidly. "Did you just…"

Emma beamed at him, apparently delighted with her achievement. "Daddy!" she stated again, and nudged his mind, showing him a picture of the spoon in his hand and projecting her hunger. A bit dazed, he fed her another bite, and then it dawned on him what had just happened. A huge grin split his face, and he called out for Rose through their link, his excitement bubbling over.

A moment later, Rose stuck her head into the kitchen, halfway through putting her makeup on. "What's got you so excited?" she asked, amused.

The Doctor grinned up at her as he fed his daughter another bite. "She just said her first word! She said 'Daddy'!" he crowed.

A matching grin spread across Rose's face. "Oh, did she? That's brilliant! Can you get her to say it again?"

They spent the next ten minutes trying to coax Emma into saying that again, without any luck. Her mind was radiating smugness and a very Doctor-like sense of mischief, and Rose and the Doctor were quite sure that she was refusing to say it on purpose. Finally, they gave up, and Rose ducked back into the bathroom to finish with her makeup while the Doctor cleaned up the kitchen and the baby, telling Emma that it wasn't very nice of her to refuse to talk like that. He poured a cup of tea for his wife and started munching on a banana, musing on how long human females took to get ready.

Rose appeared back in the kitchen just a minute later, eyeliner now on both eyes, and placed a kiss on Emma's forehead before scooping up her tea with a nod of thanks. She quickly drank it down and inhaled her breakfast, rather like the Doctor was doing, and then scooped Emma up in her arms to get her ready to be dropped off with Jackie at the Tyler mansion. (Given that Emma had two hearts, they hadn't wanted to risk trusting her to some unknown nanny.) As Rose adjusted the cute little pink outfit she'd dressed her daughter in that morning, Emma suddenly giggled and announced "Mummy!" much to the surprise of both her parents.

They stared at their daughter, then at each other. "Did she just…" they said in unison, and burst out laughing.

"Oh, only your daughter would say her first and second words in under an hour," Rose laughed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

The Doctor grinned. "Oh, she's just brilliant, she is," he said fondly. "And she gets that from you just as much as me," he added, kissing his wife's temple and his daughter's forehead.

Rose also placed a happy, proud kiss on Emma's cheek, then sighed. "Well, we'd better get going, or we're going to be late for work. Have you got everything?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Rose."

"Your phone?"

"Yes."

"Keys?"
"Yes."

"Wallet?"

"Yes, Rose, big Timelord brain, remember? I can remember to bring my necessities, you don't have to remind me every morning."

"Well, you have to admit, you have forgotten each and every one of those things at least once a month since we started working for Torchwood, so you'll forgive me for checking. Do you have Emma's bag?"

He scowled at her infuriating logic, and scooped the bag up off the chair beside him. "Yep."

"Which is fully packed, including her duck?"

"Yes, Rose. See?" he said, pulling the little yellow stuffed duck out of the bag to show her. The little toy had been a gift from Jake, and it was Emma's absolute favorite.

As soon as she saw her favorite toy, Emma giggled happily and reached out her little hands for it, and stunned both her parents by saying "Duck!" in a loud voice.

Rose and the Doctor stared at her, and the Doctor mutely handed Emma the duck, unsure of what else to do. Emma gurgled happily and promptly stuck one of its feet in her mouth. After a few seconds of stunned disbelief, Rose and the Doctor both shook their heads, laughing incredulously.

"At this rate, she'll be using complete sentences by the end of next week," Rose snorted, and carried her out to the car, the Doctor following behind and laughing uproariously. He locked the door behind them, then bounded in front of Rose and opened the door for her, and she carefully buckled Emma into the car seat.

As she was settling herself into the passenger side of the car, another thought occurred to her.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, love?"

"Is your 'gob-that-never-stops' thing inheritable?"

Thanks for reading, and please review! Hope all that sugar didn't give you too many cavities!