AN: Here's the next chapter. More angst and emotional h/c. We're going to learn a bit more about Sophie in the next one. Tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: Why would I be here if I owned this shit?

Sophie sipped from her tea, her eyes remaining steady the man who claimed to be her father. In truth, the news hadn't really set in yet. She understood what he said, but her reaction was not one of panic or shock, though she experienced both those things to a certain degree, but rather of quiet acceptance, like a bad cold that you had to sit through and wait until it was gone. Her entire life, she had been raised to accept the things she was told. Or, alternatively, not told. They told her she had two hearts, but they didn't tell her why. They told her she was extremely important, but not why. They told her her parents gave her up for a good cause, but they did not tell her what the cause was. And somehow, she became a friend to change, adapting easily to whatever life threw at her. She was raised to be a soldier, to follow orders without question, and that had bled into not just her training, but also her personal life.

The Doctor, who she still wasn't ready to call her father, was staring at the wall, and he looked enormously uncomfortable, like he wanted to talk but he had no idea what to say. She did like him well enough. He seemed nice, even if he was a bit... Off. It was the woman, Rose, she was curious about. My mother, she mused, supposedly. She had to admit, she could see the physical similarities. She just wished that she knew her better. She felt sorry for her, after witnessing her panic attack from earlier.

"How old are you?" she said suddenly, setting her tea down.

The Doctor cocked his head and curled his lip. "Eh, somewhere around 900-years, give or take."

"And my mom?"

"Twenty," he said in a slightly lower voice, as if he was embarrassed. "But age, it's just a number and all that jazz."

"That's still quite an age difference," she remarked, raising an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but this time someone else spoke before she could.

"Hello," came a trembling female voice from behind her.

She turned around, and saw Rose standing in the doorway, her sleeves bunched over her hands and her face red and swollen from crying. There was something childlike and vulnerable about the way she stood there, shoulders hunched and chin turned down, her arms wrapped around her own waist like she was trying to protect herself.

The Doctor stood up and hurried to her, cupping her face and looking her in the eyes. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah, 'm fine," then she turned toward Sophie and smiled weakly. "Hi. Sorry about earlier."

"No, no, it's fine," said Sophie. "Have a seat."

Rose grabbed a chair from nearby and scooted it into the table. She kept her arms close to her chest, as if she was scared that someone was going to hurt her.

"Alright, now that we're all together, we need to know some things first," said the Doctor. "Who exactly was it that was keeping you?"

Sophie bit her lip, unsure what to say. She still hadn't decided whether or not she trusted these people. Then again, she had run away from Madame Kovarian, so it wasn't like she would be betraying her by telling them who she was. She was free now. And seeing that these people had rescued her, they were probably the only people she could trust at the moment.

"They were called the Silence," she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "They're some sort of religious order."

"Did they tell you why they were keeping you?"

"No, well, not exactly," she said. "I knew they wanted to turn me into an assassin of some sort, but they never told me who exactly I was supposed to kill."

The Doctor glanced to Rose and pressed his lips together. "Well, I have no doubt that they'll be after you. Not that we can't shake them off using the TARDIS."

"I don't think you understand," she said. "They're time travelers, too. They have technology you can't even imagine."

"I'm pretty sure I have a fairly good idea of what kind of technology they were using," said the Doctor, tapping on his temple. "Remember, Time Lord."

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. He was a bit arrogant. In truth, she had no idea if they would found her. She knew they would look for her, but obviously if she had managed to escape their clutches, they weren't nearly as powerful as they liked to believe. Still, she knew they would try with everything they could to find her. But were these people any more trustworthy? They may have saved her, but nonetheless she barely knew them, and already they were claiming to be her parents. More and more everything she'd thought was true, every concrete reality and solid fact, was being unwound. Her life was not the one she had been led to believe. She wouldn't put it past the Silence to lie about her parents, but her innate sense of foresight told her that she should treat these people with the same amount of caution that she treated her now past captors.

"I'm going to go find out more about the Silence," said the Doctor, standing up. "How about you two get to know each other a little bit?"

Sophie turned to look at Rose, who was chewing on her lip and glancing at her from out of the corner of her eye.

"So," said Sophie, realizing quickly that Rose was not going to initiate the conversation herself. "You're my mum?"

Rose bit at the tip of her thumb, then looked away. "Yeah," a sweet smile crept upon her lips. "God, you look just like him," she reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then laughed shyly. "Sorry, 's just instinct, I guess."

"It's fine," said Sophie. "It's not like I've ever really had a mother. No one to do that for me."

Rose nodded. "Tell me about yourself. What sort of things are you into?"

"Oh, that's actually kind of a tough question," she said with a laugh, finding it hard to look her in the eyes, which, despite her smile, seemed sad and broken. "My entire life has pretty much been learning to fight. I mean, I did have some free time. I like to read."

"Whaddaya like to read?"

She shrugged. "Anything, really. I'm a particular fan of the works of Italo Calvino, Umberto Eco, people like that. What about you?"

"I like a good romance," said Rose. "Jane Austen, stuff like that. Silly things."

"I don't think they're silly," she said.

Rose was quiet for a while, and Sophie couldn't help but notice the haunting quality of her eyes, the sadness, like she was constantly on the verge of tears.

"Could I- would you mind if I did your hair?" asked Rose, sounding more like a child asking for a treat than a mother getting to know her daughter.

Sophie hadn't even stopped to think once about how her hair looked. It was the first time since her escape that it had occurred to her that she probably looked more like a grimy street urchin than a fourteen-year-old girl.

"Sure."

Rose gently ran a brush through Sophie's hair, tugging gently to work out any tangles that had formed. I'm being a mother, she told herself. I can do this. Inside, her heart was in a state of panic, pounding wildly against her ribcage and pulling at its restraints, as if it wanted to break out of her chest. Her breath was caught in her throat like a piece of food refusing to dislodge itself, and her hands were trembling violently. Still, she refused to break down once more in front of her daughter.

"So where exactly are you from?" asked Sophie.

"London," she replied quickly, hoping her voice didn't shake too much. "Grew up on an estate with my mum. My dad died when I was little."

"I'm sorry."

"No, d-don't be," she said with a watery smile. "It was a long time ago. What about you, what was your life like?"

Sophie was quiet for a second, staring into her reflection as if she was expecting an answer from it. "I was always moving, even when I was little. To all these different bases and planets, and I was always training. They wanted to make a soldier out of me."

"Were there ever any boys?"

"No," she said with an embarrassed laugh.

Rose paused while she considered her next question. "Any girls?"

"No," Sophie laughed even more this time, but it was a good-hearted laugh, with her cheeks flushed and her lips spread in a smile. "Never any time for that sort of stuff. It was all work, all the time," then she turned around and looked straight at Rose. "How did you and the Doctor meet?"

It pained Rose slightly, the way she said the Doctor instead of "Dad". Was she simply "Rose" to her? Not Mum? Just some strange, hysterical woman doing her hair, acting like a mother that she'd never had. What if it was all a facade, just a way to gain their trust until she too ran away from them, and into the arms of who? Back to the Silence? Rose swallowed a nervous gulp.

"Well, it's kind of a funny story," she said. "I was working in a shop, and I was all alone and these mannequins came to life. They were about to hurt me, when all of a sudden he took my hand and told me to run. And then after that, he asked me to travel with him."
"Just like that?"

She cocked her head. "Well, there was a little bit that went on in between. We helped stopped the end of the world and stuff like that," finally finished brushing out her knotted hair, she set the brush down and crossed her arms. "Do you want it curled or straight?"

"Curled sounds good," she said perfunctorily, smiling a tight smile.

Rose smiled back, but it too was tight, like strings were pulling on it, and an unwary silence pressed down on them as she began to wind thick locks of brown hair around the iron. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, and they both took it as a sign that the other didn't want to speak, when in reality, both of them did. However, every word that came out of their mouths felt forced. Rose had no idea how she was supposed to act around her daughter, this strange girl who already sounded so much smarter than her. For a brief moment, she felt the same crushing inferiority she felt when the Doctor nearly left her for Reinette, coupled with the guilt that she was becoming jealous of her own child. You're not a real mother, hissed a voice in the back of her head, and you never will be.

Rose shifted the iron slightly, and accidentally touched it to Sophie's scalp.

"Ow!" she cried out, jumping away with her fingers ever-so-lightly pressed against the spot on her head.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," squeaked Rose, feeling a cold paralysis settle in her limbs.

Now she couldn't control the tears that had been building up in her eyes, they dripped freely down her cheeks, rubbing away at her corneas and leaving them red and hot. She wiped away at them, but still they came, and she felt tremors begin to take hold of her body.

"It's fine," assured Sophie. "Really, I'm okay."

Rose nodded, but still, she could not shake away the guilt gnawing inside of her, festering and growing, like a disease, and she knew that it wouldn't be long before it completely consumed her.

After a while, the Doctor came and found Rose and Sophie, and invited them into the kitchen for dinner. He prepared a simple pasta dish with olive oil and red pepper, along with a baguette and some salad. The meal's conversations were stiff and one-sided, consisting mostly of the Doctor firing away questions at Sophie, who would give vague and nonsensical answers, while Rose did little but toy half-heartedly with her food, barely taking more than a few bites. The Doctor noticed this, of course, but said nothing.

It worried him, seeing Rose like this. It was as if the Rose he knew had been replaced with some sort of stranger. It made him hate the Silence and what they did to her. They hurt her in such a way that she seemed like no more than a ghost, floating through life with no purpose or emotion. He wanted to see her happy once more, he wanted her to heal.

And then there was Sophie. He had no idea what they'd done to Sophie. They could've experimented on her, like they did when she was an infant, abused her, brainwashed her. She acted like a well-adjusted child for her age, intelligent and mature, but deep down he could see that something else was going on. Every time he spoke with her, he got the feeling that her pleasant demeanor, her introspectiveness and her utter calmness, were all just an act, facilitated by a need for somewhere safe to stay. She was hiding something, but he didn't know what. Part of him was afraid that he didn't want to.

After dinner, Sophie commented that she was ready to go to sleep, and the TARDIS immediately created a bedroom for her, which she disappeared into with a perfunctory good night. The Doctor then turned to Rose, who was in the process of slinking away into her bedroom, before he caught her.

"How about you come sleep with me?" he offered, his voice gentle.

It took a moment for her to speak. "I thought you didn't sleep," she said with a humorless laugh.

"Oh I do," he said. "Just not as much as you lot."

"You sure I won't bother you?"

"Rose Tyler, when have you ever bothered me?" he said in a teasingly deprecating tone, flashing her a grin and extending his hand. "Come with me."
He led her to his room, revealing a mess even more catastrophic than the one in hers. Everywhere, gears and strange devices littered the floor, along with a plethora of books, the kind of books with thick, unadorned covers and spines that were cracked and powdery. Even his bed was not immune to the mess, a large jumble of trinkets and gadgets dotting it.

"You'll have to excuse the mess," he said, dodging around various instruments.

"'s fine," she replied in a voice that was nearly a whisper.

His hearts tightened in his chest at her words. Normally, he'd expect some sort of teasing remark, some sort of good-hearted jab at his ego, at which he would reply with one of his own. But not now. Now she was worryingly passive, barely eliciting any sort of autonomy. She had become submissive, compliant, not the strong, stubborn Rose he knew and loved. He loved this Rose just as much, and he would always love her, but he wanted the old Rose back, the happy Rose.

"The TARDIS probably has a pair of jim-jams laying around for you somewhere-ah, here you go!" he picked up a soft set of pajamas, with a long-sleeved, button-down shirt and loose pants.

Rose took them without saying a word, and dutifully put them on, not voicing any sort of protest against changing in the same room as him. He knew they'd seen each other naked before, but still.

They brushed their teeth together, disposed of the junk on his bed, and laid down. The Doctor curled up with Rose, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his body melt into the curves of hers. Despite the fact that her back was turned to him, he knew that she was not sleeping.

"Rose, you still awake?" he inquired.

She shifted slightly. "Y-yeah," she mumbled. "Just having a bit of a hard time goin' to sleep, 's all."

"Is something bothering you?" he asked in a slightly darker tone.

For a few seconds, Rose didn't reply, then she turned around so that she was facing him, her eyes large and wet. "I'm just... I can't get it out of my head that I'm a bad mum. Every time I look at her, I think that I've failed her. I just want to hurt myself, cause I just hate it so much. I feel like she deserves better, but instead all she got was boring old me. I couldn't even protect her when she was a little baby."

"Rose, you had no choice but to give her up," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face then cupping her cheek. "And you've barely had any time to get to know her. You're being too hard on yourself."

"But it's true," she whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Whenever we talk to each other, it always feels forced. No matter what I do, I can't get through to her. I just... I wish she was still an infant."

"I know, Rose-"

"But it's wrong!" she cried, burying her face against his chest. "It's wrong because she's here now, and she's alive and I should be grateful, but I'm not, I'm just wishing for something else."

"You think I don't wish we could have found her when she was an infant?" he said gently, cradling her head and stroking her hair. "Rose, every minute I'm with her, all I see is that little girl I held in my arms at Demon's Run. And it kills me, because no matter how many times I wish I could rock her to sleep, or read her a story, or watch her take her first steps, I know that I can't. But that doesn't mean that we're bad parents. It's natural."

She nodded, but said nothing, clinging to him like a small child, her lips trembling and her face wet with tears. He held her close, as if she needed protection, which really, she did. She had been violated, she had been abused, and now she was scared. She had been broken by these people, and he needed to help her put her pieces back together. She had healed him when he was shattered by the Time War. Now he was going to heal her.