A Christmas to Remember

Home, Day 1: Sunday, 28 December

"Time to get up sweetheart!" the cheery voice of Jackie Tyler called from the doorway of Rose's bedroom. "We've got Christmas to celebrate."

Rose groaned and pulled the duvet over her head.

"Fine," her mother said with a sigh. "Have a lie in a bit longer if you want. But there's a pile of things for you to open. And I ordered the wrong sized catered dinner from the market so there's plenty of leftovers. We could even have some people over and make it seem more like a celebration." When Rose didn't answer, Jackie added, "Though it might be your breakfast if you sleep any longer."

Rose peeked out from under her downy cover just enough to see the alarm clock on her nightstand. It didn't surprise her that it was close to eleven. Rose had pretended not to hear her mother's chipper voice calling first from the kitchen, then the hallway, and finally her bedroom with what seemed like hour long intervals in between. She didn't know if her mother thought she was exhausted from the trip or just deserving of one last day of relaxation, but Rose was thankful that she had not pushed her to get up. Rose knew that her mother had missed her and would be anxious to start their belated Christmas celebration, so she had used the time in her blanket fortress to try to push the events of the past week to the back of her mind and prepare to be the excited and gracious daughter that her mother was expecting her to be.

"M'kay, I'm up," Rose said reluctantly as she rolled from her side to her back and pulled down the duvet. Then she thought about what her mother had said and sat up suddenly. "Mum," she said, "what people?"

"What do you mean?" Jackie asked as she crossed the room and opened the curtains, causing Rose to squint at the sudden increase of light.

"You said something about people coming over," Rose said. "Who did you mean?"

"I don't know," Jackie answered. "Not family. You made that clear enough before you left. Maybe Debbie and Beth since they weren't here on Christmas or Boxing Day. You can ask Keisha and Shareen if you like. And Mickey's off Sundays if—"

"Not Mickey," Rose said firmly. She swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed facing her mother, continuing to squint because her eyes had not yet adjusted to the daylight. "I made that clear too."

"Well you don't need to be making a face about it," Jackie said. "He doesn't have to come. But sooner or later you've got to stop avoiding him."

"I'm making a face because the sun is in my eyes," Rose explained in exasperation. "And I'm not avoiding him. I didn't even avoid him after we broke up. But seeing him on New Year's is soon enough." Rose stood and straightened the duvet on her bed. "I just need a break. You know how clingy he can be."

"He's been that way since he was a kid," Jackie agreed. "Maybe the time apart was good for him too."

"Maybe," Rose answered back.

Jackie patted Rose's shoulder. "I'll go make you a cuppa and some toast while you get dressed," she said, then she walked out and closed the door.

Rose was left wondering if one week of separation from Mickey was enough to change a lifelong precedence. Mickey Smith should have been a perfectly acceptable boyfriend. He was nice enough, good looking, and had a steady job as a mechanic. He had a sharp mind and could have been a computer programmer if had had been able to afford university. But he could be immature in stressful situations, acting like an idiot who needed direction when Rose knew he could be better than that. And when he wasn't at work or watching the latest football match at the pub, he was wherever Rose was—no matter what the status of their relationship was at the time.

Mickey had always been part of Rose's life, and she knew he always would be. Mickey's mother had abandoned the Smith family when he was young and his father couldn't cope with being a single parent. So Mickey was raised by his grandmother. Jackie helped the older woman by watching him after school. It had been five years since Mickey's grandmother had died, and now the Tylers were all he had. So Rose tried to be understanding of his tendency to be a bit needy. But no amount of understanding made being in a romantic relationship with Mickey Smith a good idea.

Rose froze as her mind turned to a different Smith. John Smith—the Doctor—had also lost his family. Like Mickey, he had not left Rose's side almost her entire holiday. Did Rose somehow attract men who had lost their families? Was she merely the Wendy for a Peter Pan who was looking for a mother figure? Her relationship with Mickey seemed to support that theory. They had played together as children, and though Mickey was actually a few years older than Rose, she had somehow grown up and taken the lead. She handled the responsibility, and he handled the fun.

Could the same be said about Rose's interaction with the Doctor? Rose scrutinized the memories of her holiday. It was true that the Doctor had shown his temper or shut down when he had been reminded of his loss, and that Rose had somehow helped the Doctor face it, but he hadn't seemed dependant on her. Instead, it seemed her presence had unlocked his own capability to heal. But it wasn't just Rose who had done the supporting. The Doctor had taken the lead plenty of times, and even rescued her in the process. The Doctor might have benefited from Rose's support and understanding, but she in turn had benefited from his encouragement, and it had helped her remain confident about her future and her abilities.

The more Rose compared the two Smiths, the more assured she was that they were very different. Despite sharing a similar age and background with Mickey, something had always seemed uneven. But though outwardly the Doctor and Rose lead very different lives, she had come to feel that they were equals.

Rose wasn't sure why this mattered. She had made her decision to stop her relationship with the Doctor at the end of the trip not because their personalities were incompatible, but because their lifestyles were.

"A bird could love a fish," her mother had once told her, paraphrasing some old musical film. (The Doctor probably knew which one it was.) "But where would their home be?" She had said it as a warning against trying to marry out of one's station. Jackie had made the comment when she had overheard Rose's friend Shareen joking about marrying an actor. "The real world is no romance film," Jackie had said. "Even if a girl gets a bloke like that to notice her, it never lasts. Eventually he gets tired of how she looks or whatever and dumps her back on the street. 'Cept now everyone hates her because she thinks she's better than them."

"Why couldn't an actor actually love a normal girl?" Rose had challenged her.

"Maybe he could," Jackie said. "But love isn't enough. Everyone talks about Romeo and Juliette, and how love beat everything, but they got themselves killed, didn't they? If people are too different, it won't work."

Rose hadn't thought she was all that different than people with more money. She had done personal shopping for people whose handbags cost at least as much as her monthly salary, and most of them were wonderful people. Some even shared Rose's interests. But this observation was lost on her mother.

"That store's giving you airs and graces," she told Rose one day. "You think you're like them because they're nice to you. But you're just the help to them."

Rose didn't agree with her mother's point of view. She still believed that it was possible to have dreams beyond one's current condition. At the same time, she knew her mother had just been being pragmatic. Most people never left the estate, and her mother had just wanted to protect Rose from having her dreams shattered and her heart broken.

That was why it didn't matter how well Rose and the Doctor had gotten along. She was a fish, limited by her world of water. He was a bird who belonged in a world in which the sky was the limit. Their paths had crossed but they didn't belong in each other's worlds. He had offered her a way into that world, but if she had accepted it without earning it, it could just as easily be taken back. She had to achieve her own success so she could stand on her feet when everything inevitably ended in heartache.

Rose got dressed then started unpacking. She first emptied her small rucksack travel bag then focused on her rolling suitcase. She dumped the clothing into a laundry basket in the corner of the room, put her shoes at the bottom of her wardrobe, and removed the small bag of toiletries to put away later. When she was done, what remained were the decorations that she had awoken to see on Christmas morning.

Rose stared at a piece of the makeshift wrapping paper on which her name had been written by the Doctor's hand. Then she took out the paper wreath that, along with the magazine-made tree, had miraculously survived the journey with just minimal damage. She set them on her bed. Last, she carefully picked up the stack of snowflakes and placed them on her nightstand. She lifted the top one from the pile following the intricate pattern with her eyes. It was the one which the Doctor had turned in his hand when he had told her about his sister, Susan's, tradition. A deep feeling of regret suddenly and instantly overtook Rose. She had walked away from someone who had faced his own pain and worked hours on a project just to make her Christmas morning magical. Two amazing days later, he had wanted her to stay, but she declined his offer. If Rose had said goodbye in order to prevent her heart from breaking, why did it feel like that was exactly what was happening?

"Good Morning, Doctor Smith," said Clive, the concierge of the Justicia Towers in Chelsea, London. "I was told you would be away until late this evening."

"Plans changed," the Doctor said. "Got home sometime after midnight."

"Well, at any rate, welcome back," Clive said.

The Doctor was about to say "thank you" and move on, as was his habit, but something within made him pause a moment longer. Clive had been the daytime concierge since he had moved into the luxury apartment building, but the Doctor's conversations with him never went beyond the polite exchanges initiated by Clive. For some reason, the Doctor felt it was time he changed that.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" the Doctor asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable doing so.

Clive's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Er, um…yes, I did," he said with a stammer. It was likely all he would have said, but the Doctor stood waiting for him to continue. "We had dinner at my in-law's house. Pretty routine. My son got nothing but video games, but I can't really blame him. I'm into computers as well. My wife, Caroline, gave me a gift card so I can upgrade the one I have now. It'll really help me improve my blog."

"What's your blog about?" the Doctor heard himself asking. He was fairly certain he didn't care, but the words had escaped from his mouth before he could stop them.

"Overlooked news incidents," Clive replied.

The Doctor was confused by the reply, but this time he really didn't care. He prepared to leave, but his confusion must have shown because Clive elaborated.

"Conspiracy theories," explained the concierge. "For instance, there is evidence that one of the skyscrapers in Canary Wharf is being used to track extra-terrestrial activity on earth."

"Right…" said the Doctor, taking a step toward the door and trying to determine how to politely end the conversation.

"That's okay," said Clive. "Even my kid thinks I'm nutters for my theories."

The Doctor had no idea how to reply to that.

"So…how was your holiday?" Clive asked.

The Doctor was glad for the change of subject until it occurred to him what he had been asked. He had just reached his limit for friendly interaction. "Fine," the Doctor replied. "Went skiing." His eyes darted to the door and back to Clive. "Right. Well, busy day…"

"Have a good day, sir," Clive said, back in concierge mode.

The Doctor nodded and walked to the exit as rapidly as he could without appearing rude. Once he was outside, however, he stopped. He had no plans.

He should have still been in Val d'Isere, possibly having brunch followed by one last stroll down Main Street before he headed to the airport. But when Rose had rejected all his offers to continue their relationship (whatever it had been), he had no desire to stay. He had returned to his suite with no idea what to do next. He sat down on the sofa as memoires flooded his mind. Their first fight started on that sofa. She helped him buy a gift on that sofa, showing how absolutely fantastic she was. He held her close and she fell asleep in his arms on that sofa. It was too much. The Doctor stood up and finished the packing he had started that morning. Then he booked the soonest flight to London that he could get, and left.

His entire trip home and half the night, the Doctor reviewed what he had said before Rose had left, wondering if there was any way things could have gone differently. He had at least hoped she would have wanted to stay in touch, but that hadn't been the case. At first he chastised himself for allowing himself to get close to her. Losing Rose was the worst pain he had experienced since his family was taken from him. But eventually he decided he wouldn't have undone any of it. While it was true that pain was the risk one took when letting people into one's life, he couldn't deny that life was better when it was shared with others. And for the first time in a long time, he was willing to let people in.

The Doctor looked back at the doors of the Justicia Towers and he couldn't help but laugh. It might have been a good idea to get to know those he interacted with daily, but maybe he knew Clive as well as he needed to. There was nothing wrong with keeping some of his interactions at a purely professional level.

The Doctor stood on the pavement for several minutes trying to formulate a plan for his day. He was only used to downtime in the evenings. He had to do something to keep his mind from straying back onto the topic of Rose Tyler. Eventually he decided on a plan of action much like the one he had come up with for his holiday: until he returned to work the next day, he would keep himself too distracted to think. The Doctor knew exactly where to go to accomplish that. He turned left and circled around the building (rather than cross the lobby and risk having to talk to Clive again) and headed toward the car park. He was going to spend his day at the cinema.

Rose spent the morning opening gifts and watching as her mother opened the gifts she had gotten for her. Everything was fine until her mother opened the item Rose had selected from the Val d'Isere gift shop. It was just a souvenir coffee mug filled with sweets, but it brought back memories of her last hour with the Doctor. Rose excused herself to her room claiming to be tired (though she was fairly certain her mother didn't believe that) and promised to emerge when guests arrived. Then she dropped onto her bed as the tears began to fall.

At dinner Rose did her best to enjoy the belated Christmas celebration. Rose listened her mother's two friends share how their Christmases had gone, and by the time it was Rose's turn to share, she was ready. She told them about the skiing, sights, and dining but omitted the Doctor's involvement. She also left out stories of the sleigh ride, the ball, or how her evenings had ended. When the group asked to see pictures, she guarded her phone carefully, scrolling through the photos as they gathered around her. She stopped before reaching the picture of the Doctor with the snowman and quickly put the phone back in her pocket before it could be apprehended by anyone who wanted a second look.

"I can't believe you went on a helicopter tour!" Rose's friend Keisha said after the five women had moved to the salon to enjoy mulled wine and leftover mince pies.

"Yeah, I would have loved to do that," agreed Shareen. "Next holiday I'm coming with you!"

"Those tours are rather dear, ain't they?" asked Jackie's friend Beth. "I knew a coworker that did one of those in Switzerland and it cost her more than two hundred pounds. How could you afford it?"

"She used her holiday pay," Jackie said in a tone of disapproval. "If it weren't enough that she spent it on a holiday rather than keep it for expenses, she spent money like it was endless."

"I did not!" snapped Rose. "The room was upgraded for free, and my meals were complimentary. And I didn't pay for the helicopter tour, someone else did!"

Five sets of eyes instantly focused their attention on her. After concealing most of the details of her trip, all it took was her mother's accusations to make her break. "What I mean," she said slowly, giving her mind time to catch up, "is that the tour was provided for."

"You showed me your trip folder," Jackie said. "There wasn't no helicopter tour listed."

"It was added after I got there," Rose said wishing Jackie would let the matter go. But her mother's scrutinizing stare made her feel as if she were a child who had been caught sneaking sweets from the pantry.

"You're lying," Jackie said. "You've been hiding something since you got off the plane. Now how did you pay for that tour?"

Rose knew that the whole story would eventually come out, but this was not the how she wanted to share it. "Someone else paid for it," Rose said, rapidly formulating her answer as she went. "Remember I told you I met the bloke in the room next to me? Well it turns out he works for Arcadia Associated. I told him about my job when he asked why I was on holiday. And even though it wasn't his fault, he felt bad. Anyway, he was able to get Arcadia pay for the tour. Sort of an apology, I guess," Rose said, stretching the truth. Her mother didn't seem fully convinced, but before Jackie could say more, Rose's mobile chimed.

Rose took her phone out of her pocket and rolled her eyes. "It's a text from Mickey," she said, swiping the screen to receive it.

Welcome, home, Babe, the message read. Then the phone chimed again. Mickey had sent a picture of himself with an arm around a woman that Rose recognized.

"Isn't that Tricia Delaney?" Rose asked, showing the picture to her friends.

"Rob Delaney's sister?" asked Shareen looking closer. "Yeah, that's her!"

"What's he doin' sendin' a picture of her?" Rose wondered aloud.

"Oh!" piped up Keisha. "I forgot. I saw Mickey today and he said something about going out with her."

"She's a bit big," Rose said feeling irritated.

"What does that matter?" demanded Jackie's friend, Debbie. Rose had almost forgotten the older women were still in the room. Debbie was not a small woman.

"Nothing," Rose said. "Just the two of them are never gonna happen. She's not his type. When it comes to women, Mickey's rather…shallow."

"Yeah, every girl he's dated between your break-ups have been young, pretty, and blond," said Keisha "His type is 'Rose Tyler.'"

Rose shot her an incredulous look.

"It's true," Shareen agreed. "Think about it: He calls you 'babe,' in a text but then send a picture of him with another girl. He's trying to make you jealous."

"Well, it's not gonna work," Rose said as she set her phone on the coffee table. "I'm taking a long break from men. And," she joked as she stood up, "I am taking a quick break from you lot. Got to use the loo."

Rose had not been gone long, but when she returned. Shareen was holding her phone and she and Keisha were looking at it, whispering.

"Give me that!" she demanded, making no attempt to be polite.

"You got another text," Shareen explained. "I was looking to see if it was Mickey."

"Fine," Rose said, feeling relieved "What'd he say this time?"

"It wasn't him," Shareen answered. "Just some advert from the mobile company…Who's the bloke?"

"What are you talking about?" Rose asked trying to sound nonchalant.

"It switched to pictures," Shareen said as she handed the phone to Rose. The screen was open to the photo of the Doctor standing next to the snowman. "Who's the bloke?" Shareen asked again.

"Just the man I mentioned earlier," Rose told her. "No big deal." She hoped her tone matched her words.

"Let me see this no big deal," Jackie said. She got up from her chair and walked over to Rose, who reluctantly handed her mother the phone.

"Well the ears are a bit much," Jackie said, "but if he had been that close to my bedroom…well, anything could have happened."

"Mum!" Rose exclaimed, horrified.

"What?" asked Jackie. "Just cause I'm a Mum doesn't mean I have to act like a nun."

Jackie's friends nodded their heads and hummed in agreement.

"But…just…no!" Rose sputtered unable to put her repulsion into words.

Jackie wasn't paying attention. "How do you make it bigger?" she was asking as she repeatedly swiped her finger on the screen. Then she stopped and her eyes grew larger. "ROSE MARION TYLER!"

Rose didn't have to look to know what had happened. Instead of enlarging the picture, Jackie had advanced the pictures. And only one photo could have elicited Jackie's angry response.

"You care to explain?" Jackie asked in a voice that sounded both calm and irritated.

"Not really," Rose said with a hint of defiance. "It's just a picture."

"Who is he?" demanded Jackie showing Rose the picture of she and the Doctor posed under the mistletoe.

"I told you," Rose said. "Just a friend I met at the hotel."

"That's no sort of answer!" Jackie shouted. "Last night and this morning you act like you've been through some tragedy but tell me you're fine. Then you don't mention anyone but some couple from Cardiff until you're forced to explain the helicopter trip. Now you tell me he's a just friend, but you take a picture like this? It's just one lie after another!"

Rose cringed at Jackie's display of anger and watched as their guests began to gather their coats and let themselves out with mumbles of goodbye and timid waves. Rose's friends shot her a sympathetic look and gestured for her to call them.

"The picture was posed," Rose said after everyone had left. "There's nothing more to tell you."

"I just don't believe you," Jackie said. "Why won't you tell me the truth?"

Rose sat back down and crossed her arms in front of her. She wanted to shout that she was a full grown woman and that Jackie did not have the right to treat her like a child just because she lived at home. But Rose didn't feel like fighting. "Fine," Rose told her. "He's called the Doctor. We were sort of…er…companions for the week."

"When you say companions, did you the two of you…" Jackie trailed off, letting Rose fill in the blanks.

"No!" Rose exclaimed. Her mother should have known her better than to think she would take things to that level with someone she had just met.

"Then what was it?" Jackie asked. "Because you come home with some big secret, and the next thing I know there's a picture of you kissing some strange man!"

"A few minutes ago you were talking like you had similar ideas," retorted Rose. "What makes it so bad if it's me?"

"Because he looks old enough to be your father!"

"Not unless he'd been a teenager," mumbled Rose.

How old is he then?" demanded Jackie. "Forty? Forty-five? Did he try to impress you by telling you he was a doctor?"

"He is a doctor," insisted Rose.

"Yeah?" said Jackie. "Well it's a good thing he's not here. I'd give him something to stitch up!" Then she pantomimed a slap to explain her intentions.

Rose had had enough. It was hard enough to deal with the regret of letting the Doctor go without also having to then defend him to her mother. "I'm going to bed before this conversation gets even more mental," she said. Then she went to her room and closed the door behind her.

The Doctor learned many important lessons by sitting in the cinema all day. The first was that people are suspicious of those that go to the cinema alone—especially after the third film. Second, eating cinema food for lunch, dinner and snacks will leave one feeling sick. Third, it is easy to become fidgety when sitting down all day long. Most importantly, even films that take great concentration cannot completely drown out unwanted thoughts.

Four films and almost nine hours later, the Doctor's mind was still filled with thoughts of Rose. What was worse was that he was more aware of how alone he was than he had ever been before. He knew he had to respect Rose's wishes and go on without her in his life (though he held out hope for next year), but he had to change the way he lived his life. The closest thing he had to a friend (besides Rose) was Barbara. He would see her the next day at work. Perhaps she could give him some pointers on how to live life more deliberately and make authentic connections. But he worried that even that would not be enough to make up for the loss he felt by not having Rose in his life.

Author's Notes: I know we are not at happily ever after yet, but there should be little glimmers of hope if you look carefully.

The good news is that my laptop is still under warranty and has been sent to the manufacturers. Also, in a few days I will have a loaner computer to use till it is returned. And that means faster turn around time on subsequent chapters. Hooray!

The quote about the fish and the bird comes from Fiddler on the Roof originally but was also quoted in Ever After, which is appropriately a retelling of the Cinderella story.