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Baby, It's been a long time waiting;

Such a long, long time.

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They had been walking back up the beach, hand in hand, with the wind kicking up around them. The Doctor's eyes had been trailing the ground carefully, keeping an eye out for all the nasty things that might want to slice his companion's foot in half, despite the fact that they had found their shoes and replaced them. But Rose had caught his attention again with her question.

"So, how big d'you want the poster?"

He looked to her, momentarily confused. "What poster?"

"Don't make me say it," she smiled, tilting her head to one side. "Writing the thing's gonna be bad enough."

"Oh," he replied, realising she was talking about their bet. He shook his head and went back to looking over the floor. "Why would you make the poster? Nobody won."

"You would have, though."

"Maybe. But I didn't. And I wasn't the one whose foot got attacked by glass."

He glanced at the shard in his hand, the remnants of the bottom of a wine bottle, he assumed. He had refused to just drop it back into the sand, especially after the song and dance he had made about litter. So now he had to carry it all the way back to the TARDIS and find somewhere to put it. Or, as Rose pointed out a little later, he could just put it in a bin.

"Anyway, I think after that, you deserve to win anyway."

"Oh, Doctor, you can't be serious. I was kidding!"

"I never joke, Rose," he argued, before frowning and thinking to himself. "Okay, so I do," he amended. "But not about this. It's your birthday we're talking about; I'm not going to make you wait for that. You don't really get 'birthdays' in the TARDIS. So I'll just drop you off for a day or so, let you catch up with everyone. I'm sure they've missed you."

"But that's the thing. It's not my birthday. I don't really want one. I mean, it's not important now, is it? A year sort of... doesn't mean anything when you're hoppin' about all over the place."

"Well, no, but you have been waiting to pop back an visit your Mum. And what better time than a celebration like that? Might want to ring her in advance, though – give her some time to prepare."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asked as the stepped up the hill of pebbles separating the beach and the road.

"Nope!" the Doctor grinned cheerfully. "You haven't got a choice, I'm afraid. I'm the pilot and I decide where we're going."

"I thought you hated the thought of tea with Mum," Rose grumbled as their feet crunched on the stones.

"I do," he agreed. "Can't see why you love it so much. But I won't be there, I'm afraid. Got stuff to do."

Rose stopped, causing the Doctor to stumble slightly on the stones. When he'd regained his footing, he looked back to her. "What?"

"If you think you're jus' goin' off an' leavin' me, you've got another thing comin'."

"But, I – "

"I don't care if you sit around in the TARDIS for twenty-four hours, you ain't goin' anywhere. Not without me." Rose continued, her tone stern like a mother's. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. He had never intended to leave anyway, not in a million years – but this conversation was too interesting to pass up.

"Oh yeah? And how would you stop me?"

"Wouldn't leave until you promised. I'd just sit there until you said so."

He sighed, feigning disdain. In truth, he was quite touched that she so desperately wanted to stay by his side.

"All right. I won't go anywhere. Happy?"

Rose frowned. Obviously not the reaction she had been expecting.

"So... that's it? You're jus' gonna... sit there? For a whole day? Not even gonna come and say hi?"

"Yup," he confirmed with a smirk, beginning to walk again. "Got it in one."

She followed behind him, their hands still linked. "You won't even come in for a cuppa?"

The Doctor shuddered inwardly.

"Can't imagine anything worse, Rose," he admitted. "Look, I brought you here for chips because you wanted them. Please don't make me go over this again. She's your mother, not mine. I don't have anything to do with her, and I want it to stay that way. Soon as people start thinking I'm constant, everything goes wrong. So I'd rather not bother."

"But what about me?" she persisted, unable to hide the hurting in her voice.

"What about you?"

That had come out harsher than he'd meant. And she picked up on it. She wriggled his hand out of his grip and stalked angrily past him, over the brow of the hill of stones and over the road below. He closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself for not thinking before speaking, then picked up a jog and darted after her. He hadn't meant to her hurt her; she just didn't seem to understand that he didn't do that. Any of it. It was too dangerous to get involved personally, and he was not about to start now. He began to wonder just how long he would have to wait for her to figure it out.