Title: Ripples
Author: Gillian Taylor
Rating: PG
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose
Summary: History was a misnomer. The past was a misnomer. All things were possible in Time.
Spoilers: Up to Father's Day
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
Archive: Sure, just let me know.

A/N: Though I love the shippiness of Father's Day, I disagreed with the Doctor's methods. He should've known better, and this fic grew from that idea. In my opinion, this how that story should've gone... Thanks, as always, to my lovely betas NNWest, Ponygirl72, and WMR.

Ripples
by Gillian Taylor

Chapter 1: History Torn Asunder

History. It was such a simple word for such a complex subject. Most species regarded history as set in stone. History was written by the winners. They glossed over the hardships and unmentionables to paint their past in a favourable light. What those species did not know was that history was continuously re-written. Not by the winners or losers, but by time travellers.

A word misspoken, a left turn instead of a right, the mere act of breathing in a past or future atmosphere caused minute changes in history. For those beings that lived outside time – the mythical Time Lords, for example – this had little effect. Changes happened all the time. Someone could be born in 1987 and die in 1869. A butterfly could be stepped on in the Cretaceous period and the wrong candidate could be elected to office.

Change was a fact of life. Even a time traveller's history could be re-written. Birth, life, and death are in constant flux. A meeting that never happened could. An adventure that never happened would.

History was a misnomer. The past was a misnomer.

All things were possible in Time.

"You, stay there! You've done this before. This is mine!" She flashed him a grin before she ran to the doors, ignoring the folds of the skirt as they tangled about her legs.

This was what it was for. This was why she loved this, loved being here. She had seen the end of the world, but now, now she was going to see 1860. A Christmas long gone, but all hers to explore.

Her grin widened as she swung open the doors and looked at the snow-covered world outside.

She put her foot down, crushing the newly fallen snow. History. She was in the past, her past, and it was – to borrow a phrase – fantastic.

Beneath her shoe, a pebble shifted.

Later, a cat chased a mouse through the snow, intent on its prey. It skidded on the pebble that should never have moved and darted into the street.

A coach swerved.

And, unnoticed, the fabric of time began to unravel.

The wind whistled through the trees, carrying with it the harsh scents of oil and decay. She could barely remember a time when the wind had only carried the soft, sweet scents of life and baking. She could barely remember a time when fear had not been a constant companion. She could barely remember a time when she had gone to school, had laughed, had smiled. She could barely remember a time when she had been happy.

The harsh clunk-clunk of booted feet on the pavement echoed ominously through the streets and she pressed herself against the side of the decrepit building. She prayed that it would hide her from the patrols as she silently cursed herself for leaving the safety of the commune.

However, food would inevitably drive her outside. Someone would have to forage for food, praying that the patrols would not stop them as they darted through the city streets of London.

Oh, UNIT had tried. She well remembered Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart as he had spoken on the telly – had it only been three years ago? - encouraging the people to have heart. UNIT would save them.

That day had yet to come.

The fight continued on the outskirts of the city. Sontarans and UNIT soldiers alike had died. But they were still enslaved.

They were still at the mercy of the alien invaders.

Rose Tyler brushed back her ratty and ill-kept hair from her face as she strained her senses. The marching Sontarans' movements echoed strangely through the crumbling streets, but she could tell that they were moving away from her. She was safe.

For now.

However, she couldn't return to the commune. Not yet. Not until she found food. Some farms still produced food for the UNIT soldiers, and a small resistance movement would bring some of the supplies into the city for those poor souls who were left behind. However, those stashes were routinely destroyed by the Sontarans once they were found. Therefore the resistance moved the locations, leaving behind clues.

She skirted the edge of the street, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. The first sign should be...

Ah, there it was.

A poster advertising a movie long since gone out of theatres had been defaced recently with tiny writing.

Bad Wolf.

A tiny shiver ran through her body as she read the words and for a moment she knew exactly what her mum had meant when she said 'someone just walked o'er my grave.'

Bad Wolf. She played the words in her mind as she crept back into the shadows. There had been a warehouse in the East End that had been owned by a Bad Wolf Corporation near the docks. That must be it.

It would take time to get there, but she had no choice. Time was not her friend and had not been her friend – or that of the human race – for years. She increased her speed, pausing now and then to listen intently for the passage of her enemies.

The trip to the East End was strangely uneventful and patrol-free. Scepticism warred with need within her as she approached the warehouse. It could be a trap, she realised. She could hardly put it past the warrior race to lay out an elaborate scheme to capture the few humans that were left free in the city.

She froze, caught in a moment of indecision. She could go forward or go back. Her commune would go without for one more night, but they had been going without for too long.

No choice.

Rose darted across the open ground to the side of the warehouse, flattening her too-thin body against the solid wall. Her senses strained, but she could hear nothing. Could it be that it wasn't a trap? That, just this once, she was safe?

She edged around the building and found the door. The words 'Bad Wolf' had been written near the doorframe, and she smiled faintly. Maybe it wasn't a trap.

She slowly turned the knob, pausing as she heard the soft snick of the door catch's release. No reaction.

The door opened smoothly – the resistance must have oiled the fasteners – and she slipped inside. Her sensitive nose twitched at the smell of vegetables and fruit, and she grinned.

Judging from the smell alone, there would be more than enough for a month of feeding the commune. The smell caused her to be careless. She stepped into the faint light shed by the tiny window overhead.

She heard the sound of a safety being released. A very familiar voice spoke from the darkness. "Hello, sweetheart. Thought you might be coming here."

Her expression twisted into a snarl as she replied, "Dad." Of course he would be behind this particular trap. Sontaran sympathiser. Traitor. She was ashamed that she still thought of him as her father. She still remembered the day he had turned. He had told her to run after they had run into a patrol. She had thought him dead, but later she found that he had joined them.

Joined the Sontarans and left her and Mum alone.

Traitor.

She glared at Pete Tyler as he stepped out of the darkness, surrounded by two of his Sontaran allies. "You gonna kill me now or wait until you can get me out to the frontlines? You're gonna try and sway Bambera to give up using me as a hostage, aren't ya? Really, Dad, would've thought better of you."

She caught his flinch and suppressed a grin of triumph. Good.

"It's not like that, Rose," he protested.

Before she could reply, a strange grating noise, somewhere between a hoarse donkey's bray and rubbing a bar of soap against a cheese grater, filled the room. The Sontarans and her father turned toward the source of the sound, swinging their weapons away from her.

She would never get a better opportunity.

So, she ran. But not before she grabbed one of the sacks of food. It wasn't anywhere close to enough, but it would do.

She paused at the entrance to look back at her father one last time. Her Dad, the traitor. And, in front of him, a strange blue box seemed to be solidifying into existence.

No time.

She slipped out the door and back into the streets of London.

"Peter Alan Tyler – my dad. The most wonderful man in the world. Born 15th December, 1954. Mum said that he loved adventures. So I was thinking... could we? Could we go and see my Dad. When he was still alive?" Rose's voice and expression were earnest as she described her father.

She wanted to see her dad. Of course she did. The chair creaked as he turned toward her. "Where's that come from all of a sudden?"

Rose looked at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze. "All right, if we can't, if it breaks the laws of time or something, then... never mind, just leave it."

Oh it did. It would. Break the laws of time and then some. If she saw her father and he saw her, there would be consequences. There always were. That was a facet of time travel that could never be escaped. Tiny changes happened all the time – caused by him, his companions, or other time travellers – but, if they weren't careful, those changes might destroy the universe.

He regarded the ball in his hands critically for a moment before he replied. "It does and doesn't break the laws of time, Rose. What it depends on is what you do while we're there. You save him, for example, when he should've died. Or he sees you, when he shouldn't have. You say the wrong thing, see the wrong people. This is your past, Rose, your immediate past. These would be people you know. Any change, any one at all, an' the world you know could be different. A different person could be Prime Minister. The world could be at war. You might not have worked at the shop. Anything could happen, Rose. Time is that fragile. It changes all the time."

Her downtrodden expression pulled at his hearts and he sighed. "Tell you what. We'll pop back to London. You can see your Mum, eat beans on toast, watch the telly, and visit your friends."

She met his gaze and he felt his resolve melt just a little, if only to see her smile. "An' then we can talk about it again. Okay?"

Rose's smile was brilliant. "'Kay."

He set the ball onto the console and leapt to his feet. London, 2006. Two weeks after their last visit should do. He set the coordinates and with the press of a button they were on their way.

She'd be fine after a visit to her mum. She was feeling nostalgic, he reasoned. Anyone would be after what she'd seen. End of the world, the Gelth, alien invasions, Daleks, and the Editor.

He was surprised that she was willing to stay.

"What about you?" she asked as she leaned against the railing.

Even after all that he had put her through, even after he had almost killed her, she still worried about him.

Humans amazed him.

"What about me?" he asked as the temporal rotor slowed to a stop. He crawled beneath the console and started eying the wires. "Go on, Rose. See your Mum. Go have beans on toast, or whatever it is you get up to while you're with her. Powell Estates, right outside. Not too far a walk."

Though he couldn't see her face, he could tell that she was sceptical. "Go on. Still be here, me. The stabiliser's actin' up."

"You sure? You could come with me..." She needed this time. With her Mum and without him. She was nostalgic. Her mum could help her – he couldn't. Wouldn't. Shouldn't.

"Nah. Don't do domestic, me. I'll jus' muck around here while you have fun." He gestured toward the doors with his foot. "Go on, daylight's a-wastin.' You could be shoppin' instead of hangin' around here."

"Right. An' how long've I been gone this time?"

"Been two weeks since your last visit," he replied as he shoved his sonic screwdriver in between the wires.

"'Kay. See you later, Doctor!" She ran toward the doors.

He didn't bother to reply. This was new to him, though it made her happy. Familial visits had never been part of the job description before. Travelling through time and space had never had strings.

Jackie Tyler had asked him to promise. Promise that he'd protect her, promise that he'd keep her safe. However, he couldn't promise. He'd try, do his best, tear the world apart on Rose's behalf, but there were some things he just could not promise. So many companions, so many people he had whisked away from their safe lives and shown the universe to. He had taken them away for years at a time– never mind the consequences for those who cared about them, those who loved them.

The War had changed a lot of things about him. He was the last of his kind. But, now, he truly knew what familial ties meant. He could give Rose this, because he did not have it himself. She had a place to belong. He never would.

The TARDIS doors opened with a barely audible creak. There. That was that, then. Rose'd be off, seeing her Mum, shopping, and doing whatever it was that she did while she was home. Hopefully that'd get her thoughts off her Dad, at least for the time being. He knew what she wanted. In any other situation, he might be tempted. But not now. Not when he knew what might happen, what could happen.

He could lose her. If the world changed, he could lose her and that he couldn't bear.

"Oh god!" Rose's shocked voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." She repeated the words in a mumble as he pulled himself to his feet.

She stood in the threshold of the doorway, her body caught between the dimensional rift between the TARDIS' interior and her exterior. Rose's back was tight with tension and her hand was raised halfway to her lips.

He crossed the console room at a run, skidding to a stop at her side. "Rose? Rose, what is it?"

His eyes were only on her, not on the view outside.

"Rose?" a man's voice asked.

"Daddy," she whispered, falling back into his chest. Her entire body trembled from shock, and now he looked.

Now he saw.

A tall, red-haired man stared at them both in shock. "Rose? How?"

"The Bringer of Darkness," one of the Sontarans growled. "You should be dead."

Sontarans? That wasn't right. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. The Sontarans should be merrily fighting the Rutans, not on the tiny planet Earth doing whatever it was they were doing.

"Yeah?" he asked with a cocky grin. That grin hid a multitude of sins, including his shock. "Rumours of my death are highly exaggerated."

He slid his arm around Rose and slowly tried to draw her back into the safety of the TARDIS.

"Stop!" the second Sontaran commanded. The alien gestured with his weapon for him to leave his ship.

Like that would stop him?

"Stop? Not halt? Or 'hold it?' Or 'stick 'em up?' Honestly, thought more of you lot. Speaking of which -" He used his pause to shift both himself and Rose further into the TARDIS. Just a few more moments, and they'd be able to close the doors. "- what are you doing here? You should be at least fifty light years away, fighting the Rutan Host near the Intillan system."

His gaze shifted toward Pete Tyler. This was Rose's father? How could that be? This was 2006. He should be dead. Should be, but wasn't. The Sontarans had never invaded Earth. They'd tried, of course, but from the look of things now they had succeeded.

Wasn't that just fantastic?

Time was mucked up, and, of course, he would have to clean it up. Just a few more centimetres...

There.

"Love to stay and chat, but got better things to do. Saving the world comes to mind. See ya!" He released Rose only long enough to slam the doors shut.

To be continued...