A/N: Thank you so much for all of your brilliant and wonderful and warm and awesome comments on this tale. I am so thrilled that you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it!

It was kind've hard for me to get out a chapter this evening. My heart is currently breaking for my little Time Lord who is learning the hard way just how cruel children can be. And they are. And let me tell you, as a parent there is no pain greater than your little boy sitting in the rain and sobbing because of how mean kids can be. Lots of snuggles for my own little Gallifrey tonight.
I hope that this chapter reads as I intended it to ... I'm not in fine form tonight...

I hope you enjoy!

~~oooOOOooo~~

John Smith didn't exactly have a lot of time to ponder his question of just who, exactly, Rose Tyler was before she descended upon him. He figured he might have some time to consider things. Surely she had to return to school and locate some villagers to assist her. Judging by the distance that he recalled walking with Gallifrey, Rose shouldn't have returned for at least another hour.

Yet, here she was with a rope tied around her belly, kicking off the wall and descending in a comfortable and controlled manner. She confidently descended the wall like a tree-man scaling safely out of a tree …

…Wearing only her undergarments.

John Smith gasped in shock and – even though the youngster was well and truly slumbering – he covered Gallifrey's eyes with a cup of his hand.

"Miss Tyler," he spluttered as Rose touched her toes to the broken ground at her feet. He closed his eyes and shifted his head to the side as he raised his hand to his face. "Dignity, please."

She gave him a frowned expression of confusion. "What?"

He half peeked through the cracks of his fingers. "Where is your clothing?"

Rose looked down at herself with a raised brow. Dressed in black tights and an off-white one piece pantsuit with long knickers that went well below her knee – with just the cutest amount of lace at the cuffs – Rose Tyler couldn't see what the problem was. She adjusted the harness that the Doctor had so tenderly strapped around her waist and thighs and gave John Smith a somewhat petulant look. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"You're. You. You're in your underthings," he spluttered uncomfortably.

Rose took another look down at herself and shrugged. "Well I wasn't going to climb down the wall in that bloody dress, now, was I? I've worn less than this to the market," she said with a sigh as she lifted her eyes to the Doctor as he touched ground beside her.

"Is everything okay, Rose," he queried gently as he let his eyes scan for any potential scuffs, scrapes or bruises she may have received on her short descent down the wall.

"I'm fine," she chipped out with a roll of her eyes. She then smiled and pointed to John. "Seems like himself here is a bit of a prude."

The Doctor lifted a brow and then lifted his head as he tugged lightly on the rope to ask for more slack. "Howso?"

"He thinks I'm immodestly dressed."

The Doctor took a moment to rake his eyes appreciatively up and down her form and then licked at his lip as he snatched his eyes away. "Well. You are in the period equivalent of your bra and panties."

Rose peeped and immediately, subconsciously, tried to cover herself. "Why didn't you tell me," she grit out.

"Martha did mention it as I recall," the Doctor offered. He put on a feminine tone of voice and did his best to adopt the accent of Martha Jones. "I would go in the TARDIS and put on a proper pair of pants if I were you, Rose. You'll give John Smith a heart attack if he sees you dressed like that." The Doctor indicated her clothing with a wave of his hand. "In 1913, Rose Tyler, why you are simply scandalous in that outfit." He shrugged and went back to his natural voice. "Or more accurately the lack of an outfit."

"You know," she muttered with a point of her finger at him as she dropped into a crouch in front of John Smith. "It should be somewhat unnerving that you're able to very believably imitate Martha's voice like that. Shame it isn't." She held her palms up in front of John Smith and flicked her fingers in a request for her child. "Can I have Gal, please?"

John's arm tightened around the child's shoulder and he gave Rose a bit of a disdainful purse of his lips. "Gallifrey's asleep right now."

"And he'll go right back to sleep again once we've gotten him safely above ground." Rose flicked her fingers again. "Now. May I please have my son?"

"He's really quite comfortable," John offered softly. "Perhaps you can give me the rope and I'll carry him above ground."

Rose frowned.

The Doctor grunted. "I'll take the lad above ground," heoffered in a firm voice that suggested no arguments. "Now hand the child to his mother so she can reassure herself of his wellbeing, please, Mr. Smith."

John looked imploringly up into Rose's face as she walked on her knees toward them and touched lightly at the fabric covering her child's head. "Don't take him from me," he whispered with obvious hurt.

Rose lifted her eyes quickly. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing. Just. Just forget it." There was a furrow in her brow that John found remarkably adorable and he couldn't help but lift his hand to smooth it over with his thumb. "Don't frown," he advised gently. "It doesn't do anything except give you wrinkles."

Rose sighed with agreement as she opened John's jacket to reveal her sleeping child's face underneath. She smiled at the warmth of a sleeping body pressed close to another as it radiated out into the bitter cool of the evening. "There's my little man," she cooed. "All safe and sound."

Gallifrey mumbled and groaned, and then raised a little hand to pull the jacket back closed over him. "Five mo … mins .. mum. Cold. Night night. Night. Sleep." He yawned a jaw-cracking gasp and then nestled further against John's chest. "S'warm in here."

"I told you," he stated smugly. "Gallifrey is most comfortable, and it would be kinder for us to not disturb him than to have to wake him up. It's quite chilly out, we risk him catching a chill."

The Doctor looked a trite territorial as he crouched in front of John Smith with a thick tartan blanket in his arms. "Which is why I brought this down from the TARDIS," he assured him darkly. "It'll give the lad more warmth than your jacket will."

Rose spoke the Doctor's name in warning and held her hands out for the blanket.

The Doctor handed the blanket over, but kept his eyes locked tight on John. "Now be a good man and release the child, will you, please? His mother's been in quite the state this evening since he went missing – as I am sure you can understand."

"Perfectly," John snapped back with equal venom in his voice.

Rose rolled her eyes as the two men gave each other their own unique versions of the stank-eye glare. She thread her hands into John's jacket to reach in for her child. "Come on, baby. Time for bed."

Gallifrey murmured something indecipherable. He then noisily slapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth and shook his head as he buried himself deeper into John's chest. "Comfy here."

"Gal, come on."

Gallifrey sniffed, and then sneezed, and then shifted himself in an attempt to turn his back to his mother in defiance of her wishes for him to move. The tight quarters of John's jacket and the awkward positioning of them on the ground made the attempt virtually impossible, and within short time, Gallifrey found himself falling backward across John Smith's crossed legs.

He blinked up into the sky overhead a moment to let his eyes focus, and then shifted his gaze between the three faces that looked down on him. It didn't take long for Gallifrey to squeak and then shift off John's knees to embrace his mother. "Mum! Oh I'm so glad to see you." He pouted a poke of his bottom lip outward. "Are you mad at me?"

She sighed as her arms came around his little back and she pulled him close to her. "I should be, Gal. I really should." She exhaled a shuddering breath. "But I'm just so glad that you're okay."

"I'm okay because Mr. Smith protected me," he answered with a look of pride toward John, who still sat in the same position against the wall as he had when the child was sleeping on him. "He's my hero, mum."

"Well," Rose muttered in a voice that sounded like she was speaking with a mouth full of cotton balls. "Then that makes him my hero, too, doesn't it?"

The Doctor draped the blanket over Gallifrey and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "And just what does that make me, then?"

"A mad man with a box?"

"A mad man with a box who loves you dearly," he corrected tenderly, much to the shock of the scandalously clad Rose Tyler, who could only respond with a stunned gasp.

Gallifrey's eyes lit up. "Dad!"

The Doctor tilted his head to one side and opened his arms wide. "Gallifrey! Come here you little scamp."

Gallifrey was all giggles as he struggled out of his mother's hold and flew into the waiting arms of the Doctor. "Dad. Oh, I had an adventure! A real true adventure!"

The Doctor wrapped the blanket tightly around the babbling child as Gallifrey excitedly recounted the evening's events. He gave an occasional nod and sound of interest as he secured a harness around Gallifrey's waist.

"And Mr. Smith says I was brave, Dad." He held both arms up to flex his muscles. "So brave."

"Very brave," John agreed with a wink and a smile.

"I'm very sure you were, son," the Doctor replied with his own proud smile as he fastened the final tie and pulled Gallifrey toward him to attach the child's harness to his own. "And now, my fearless adventurer. Are you ready to have another one with your old man?"

Gallifrey looked up and then grinned. "Oh yes. Yes I am." He giggled a throaty laugh. "Last one unhitched has to make the banana split!"

"You are on, you precocious little Time Tot."

"You don't stand a chance you Timey Wimey Old Fart."

Rose's whole expression was lengthened in disbelief as the Doctor and Gallifrey gave each other friendly taunts about who was going to be the l-o-o-o-ser as the Doctor climbed them both up the wall. She twisted her head to look at John and let out a breathless cough. "Well. I know for sure where Gallifrey gets his certifiably insane gene from."

"Not from his father," John remarked rather coolly.

"Oh," Rose breathed with amusement as she turned herself to face John, who was still seated on the ground. "He definitely gets it from his father."

"We don't have insanity in my bloodline," John said with a straight face and an equally straight voice.

Rose pulled a tiny torch from a pocket on her harness. "Well then," she said with a smile. "I guess that means that your kids aren't going to be as insane as mine, doesn't it?" She watched as his eyes followed hers with every shift she made in front of him, and tied hard not to let the intensity in his eyes pierce into her like it used to. "Now. I'm just going to check you out and make sure you don't have any injuries before I try and get you up there."

He maintained his stare. "Do what you need to do."

Rose dropped her eyes from his in an attempt to escape that look, but unfortunately found herself having to capture them again for her examination. "Hold still," she ordered him in a croaking voice as she cupped his chin in her hand and brought the light up to his eyes. "I just need to make sure that you didn't bang your head or anything."

"I didn't," he answered quietly.

"I need to make sure."

He swallowed as Rose held the mini-torch to his eyes and swept the light across his pupils. "Miss Tyler?"

"Pupil response seems to be fine," she muttered clearly, even though her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth. "Do you have any pain anywhere that I should know about?"

"In my chest," he answered softly with an analytical tip of his head to one side.

That made Rose gasp in a deep breath. She pressed her hands to his chest. "That's not good. What happened? Are you breathing okay?"

He took her wrists in his hands and held them against his chest. "Miss Tyler. Tell me. Is Gallifrey my son?"

Rose inhaled sharply, but shook her head. "John. No. He's the Doctor's son."

"But he's nothing like him."

Rose expelled a sharp laugh. "Oh. He is. He is much more his father than he is me."

"He's exactly like me."

Rose snatched her hands from John's grip and shook her head as she shuffled backwards from him. "For you to be his father," she answered on an intoned voice, "then you and I would have needed to have known each other almost nine years ago." She lifted her eyes to his. "We met two days ago."

"Then why does it feel like you and I have known each other for a lifetime?"

"Kindred spirits, perhaps," she offered weakly.

He snatched her hand in his and weaved his fingers through hers. He frowned as he looked to where they were joined. "Perfect fit," he mused quietly. After a swallow he raised his eyes to hers. He looked quite pained. "Why is it a perfect fit? Why?"

"I don't know," she answered with a huff as she shook her hand to free it from his grasp. "Hands are made to hold, of course they fit."

"All you need," he whispered to himself. "Is a hand to hold."

"All you need," she corrected quickly, "is to get out of this hole and return to your worried girlfriend who's waiting for you back at the school."

He winced at her use of the term girlfriend, but snatched her hand back again. "Who are you to me," he asked desperately. "You're something to me. I know you are."

Rose shook her head and tore her hand from his. "If I was something – if I ever meant anything to you – then you'd remember."

John saw the misting of her eyes and felt the pain in her voice. "Rose…"

"And do you? Remember, I mean?"

"I don't," he admitted sadly.

"Then I guess not, right?"

"But…"

She quickly cleared her throat and composed herself. "Yes. But. Off that. The important thing is that we have to get you back above ground and into the arms of the woman you …" she winced as though agonized. "that you care for."

"I've actually got bigger concerns right now," he corrected.

"All of which are unfounded," Rose snapped sharply. Her heart shattered inside her chest before she could utter her next words, but she managed to find the strength to follow through. "Gallifrey and I are nothing to you. He is not your son, and I am not a shag from your wild days that you don't remember."

"That's quite crass, Miss Tyler."

"Well I'm from the estates in London," she answered back with a shrug. "Wasn't exactly raised in the posh area of town."

"Neither was I," he answered back with a curl in his brow. "I did my own time in London-town."

Rose raised her head quickly as movement from above suggested that the Doctor was on his way back down. She smiled warmly at the swing of the scarf underneath his plaid-covered bum. "My time in good old London Town was spent with the Doctor." She spoke wistfully as the Doctor touched to the ground and gave her a smile. "My Doctor."

The Doctor chuckled as he flicked on a light he had strapped to his forehead. "Look what the TARDIS gave our little Gallifrey, then."

"She couldn't give it to us?"

"You would think so, wouldn't you," The Doctor muttered darkly. "Considering we were descending into a deep and dark hole in the ground."

"She's picking favourites, I see."

"I will have words and sentences and paragraphs, and perhaps an entire novella with that interfering and petulant girl of ours." He looked at John still seated on the floor. "Is he going to sit in the dirt all night, or are we going to take him to the surface?"

Rose gad a wide grin on her face as she turned to face John. "Up and at them, Mr. Smith."

John's face was pale and long as he looked at the image of Rose in front of him. Backlit by the light shining from on the Doctor's head, Rose's body seemed to glow, ethereal, magnificent and gold. She was a goddess in front of him.

A brilliant pain shot through his mind that threw him forward out of his seat and had him dry retching on his hands and knees. Two words exploded from within his chest, followed by a soul-shattering cry of agony that echoed and bounced mercilessly off the dirt and stone walls surrounding him. He repeated those words one more before he fell onto his face in an unconscious heap on the dirt.

"Bad Wolf."