Jackie stayed at Rose's bedside for several minutes, hugging the girl. It was longer than she normally stayed with patients, but something about the look of despair on Rose's face, and the way she snuggled into Jackie's shoulder, pulled at her heart in a way she couldn't quite explain. She wasn't sure what possessed her to kiss Rose's forehead. But as she stroked the girl's blonde hair, smoothing the flyaway strands, she brought her lips to the girl's head for the briefest of moments before slowly releasing her from the hug and rising to a stand, smiling down at her and giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"Promise me you'll get some rest, dear."

Rose merely nodded, closing her eyes for a short moment, still savoring the familiarity of Jackie's voice, her touch … of everything that mattered, really. Rose's hand still loosely held Jackie's, and although she was well aware Jackie would untwine her fingers at any moment, she wanted to feel connected to her for as long as possible. Mum would stay here with me …

Jackie smiled comfortingly at her one last time and removed her hand from Rose's, before turning to leave and clicking the door softly shut behind her.

Rose exhaled slowly. God, she wanted her mum. And whoever this Jackie was … just for this moment, it had been good enough. Good enough to clear Rose's head, at least.

Think!

She rolled over as best as she could without disturbing the IV tubes and monitors entangling her, and hugged her pillow tightly to the side of her head. She stretched her back, feeling a slightly uncomfortable twinge from her lack of mobility over the past few hours. It was hard to find a good position that felt natural, like sleeping on a strange new mattress.

Think, she told herself. Retrace your steps, there has to be something you're not remembering … Rose sighed, settling her head into her pillow.

As she drifted into sleep, she unconsciously licked her dry lips, hardly noting the faintest taste of elderberry on her tongue.

o-0-o-0-o-0-o

She awoke suddenly to a soft tapping on the door. Rose had no idea how long she had been dozing and groggily looked around the room, trying to find a clock. Judging by the one she saw on the wall, only a few minutes appeared to have passed. She looked around.

Still in a hospital bed. Still uncomfortable. Just brilliant.

What was I doing … ? Oh yes, retracing my steps. Rose sighed, rubbing her eyes.

With a somewhat jerky motion, the door began to open, and she saw Pete's head peeking around the doorframe.

"I'm back, honey. I brought you some things from the flat."

He gave her a tentative little smile, and she returned it. He was here – real and alive and with her, and for now, that was all that mattered. Even though this might all be wrong … she pushed the thought from her head, forcing herself to focus on the here and now, and to be content enough just to see her dad.

Pete entered the room, his arms loaded with a large, cardboard box. Still smiling, he walked to her bedside, placing the box on the chair next to her bed. Curious, Rose looked down into the container and found that she recognized most of its contents. A stuffed bunny she'd had since she was a toddler. A pink sequined photo album from her room. A picture frame, with a picture of her mum and dad holding her as a newborn.

I remember these from when I was a kid, Rose thought. The picture frame still hung in her mum's flat at the Powell Estates.

If my mum even really has a flat there … the thought came unbidden to Rose's mind and she quashed it, immediately. Still curious, she leaned over and picked up the frame. It was exactly identical to every detail she remembered.

"That Faith girl with Doctor Smith, she said I should bring some things from home for you. That it would help with your memory."

Rose tried to ignore the involuntary flip her stomach gave at the mention of Doctor Smith's name – and the fact that he was "with" anyone, really. She tried to brush it off; she knew was being nonsensical. What right did she have to feel possessive over a total stranger? He wasn't her Doctor … but where IS my Doctor? she wondered. She had no idea how to look for him. Surely he had to be searching for her, for a way to find her … right?

Pete plucked the items one by one from the box, setting them each carefully down on the hospital table by her bedside.

"I thought this might make you more comfortable –" Pete picked up a pink satin dressing gown from the box, and a pair of pink polka-dotted satin pajamas. She had bought them with her employee discount, one of her first purchases from –

"You got these from Henrik's, right?" Pete asked.

"Yeah…" Rose said, softly, reaching her fingers out to touch the delicate material. It had been an impulse buy – one of those things she had promised herself she would get, if she ever found work in a nice shop. She rarely wore them; still, she had brought them on the TARDIS, hadn't she? Or, had she left them at home? She couldn't remember. Everything felt so jumbled in her head. Rose closed her eyes and looked down at the blanket covering her.

Everything was so familiar to her, yet not. Even her possessions were exactly as she remembered them. Everyone seemed to know her, except differently from how she remembered them – Pete, Mickey, Doctor Smith. Jackie … Rose looked up suddenly, directly at Pete.

"Dad … what happened to mum?"

Pete paused, hands hovering over the box. He glanced up at Rose, slightly surprised.

"Well … she's gone, love. She passed away when you were a baby."

Rose broke his gaze, looking away, staring down at the picture in her hand. They looked so happy … she didn't want to know, she really didn't … but she needed to ask. She took a deep breath.

"How … how did she die?"

Pete sucked in a breath, eyes downcast.

"Hit and run driver. Never did find the guy. We were on our way to a wedding when you were just six months old, your mum was just coming from the car with the present and –"

"Was there anyone with her?" Rose interrupted, her voice almost breathless. God, it felt like her throat was closing up. "There must have been, right? A girl? Or a man in a leather jacket? Or …"

Pete shook his head in a silent no, his jaw clenching slightly at the memory. Rose swallowed hard – she hadn't meant to bring up something that was still clearly painful for him. It was simply that she had been with her first Doctor when her father died, in her arms. That's not the sort of thing that you make up, or forget, or swap out the memory of a different parent for … I know we were there … weren't we?

Rose hesitated, unsure of how to ask the next question that was logical to her.

"Dad … what do you think about my nurse?"

Pete startled at the apparent sudden change in topic.

"Your nurse? Well, she's nice, I suppose, she's always been kind to me …" Pete seemed a bit flustered, his eyebrows knitting together.

"No, I mean, she looks like mum. Don't you think?"

"A bit, I suppose, honey. It's a little hard to say. Your mum was so young when she died, younger than you, even. You look so much like her …" Pete looked down at her with a sad, almost wistful, smile.

"But people change as they age. Wish I could say I looked the same as I did when I was young," Pete said, patting the bald spot on top of his head, in self-deprecation.

"But, Dad –"

The door to Rose's room began to open again, and the girl with the violet eyes entered. To Rose's inexplicable disappointment, she came in alone.

"Mr. Tyler? Could you give us a moment? I just need to take out Rose's IV."

Pete nodded, glancing protectively at Rose, then back to Faith.

"I'll be just outside. Do what you have to – but I don't want her getting upset again."

Faith nodded, giving Pete an apologetic smile in promise as he turned and left the room. She then turned her attention to Rose's hand.

"So … you work with him? Doctor Smith?"

Although Rose tried to keep her tone casual, she was aware of the slightly prodding tone that had crept instinctively into her voice.

Faith raised her head abruptly, looking at Rose with a slightly surprised expression for a moment before speaking.

"Why yes. Yes, I do. Is there something you need from him?"

Something about the impassive look in Faith's expression made Rose feel slightly awkward. Like the woman was looking right through her and knew exactly what she was asking and why. It was disconcerting and made Rose feel uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.

"I … I was just wondering, will he be in soon?"

Faith held her gaze a moment longer.

"Maybe. Can never tell with him."

Rose nodded. Right …

"You'll probably be discharged within the next few days. This will make you more comfortable."

As Faith bent over to detach the IV, Rose noticed a charm dangling from her necklace. It was a small jewel, intricately carved in the shape of a tightly closed flower bud. It was the color though that grabbed Rose's immediate attention – like it's wearer's eyes, it was a beautiful shade of violet.

"That's a beautiful necklace – it matches your eyes," Rose said, attempting to break the awkwardness.

Faith quickly brought her eyes up to meet Rose's, and smiled. "Thank you. It's been passed down in my family for generations. It … it … well, it represents faith."

"Faith? Like your name?"

"Exactly."

Faith held Rose's gaze just a moment longer, a small smile on her face, then dropped her eyes back down to her work.

"There. That should do it," she said brightly.

Rose looked at her hand, newly freed from the IV, and moved her fingers to test her newfound flexibility. She gave Faith a brief smile in thanks.

"I'll go see about Doctor Smith. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?"

Rose motioned over to the cardboard box by her bedside.

"Could you just hand me that photo album? The pink one with the sequins."

Faith seemed happy to help, gingerly handing the album to Rose with a smile. Rose gently touched the sequins … she and Shireen had glued them on together … Shireen had a matching purple one, and together they'd made a blue one for Keisha for Christmas.

"There you go. Best thing for your memories. You'll be feeling better and go back home in no time at this rate."

As Faith left the room, Rose settled back into her pillows, opening the album and looking at the inscription that had been left in blue Sharpie on the back side of the cover. Designed by Rose and Shireen, 2001. She looked at the first page of the album and fingered the pictures of her mum and dad. There was one from their wedding, with Jackie decked out in a white lace dress and Pete looking nervous at the altar. A few of Jackie, pregnant with Rose, tenderly stroking her rounded pregnancy belly. Rose as a newborn, with her Grandpa Prentice. Two-month-old Rose in an absurdly long white gown and a frilly bonnet, at her christening. Three-month-old Rose eating jarred pears for the first time. Four-month-old Rose and Pete asleep together on the sofa. Five-month-old Rose pretending to take a drink from her father's beer bottle. All exactly as she remembered them.

Rose turned the page. She was a little older in these pictures, six, seven months old, maybe. She remembered these photos too … almost. They were so familiar to her, but jarringly brand new at the same time. All of these photos just included her and Pete– but Rose only remembered them having her mum in them.

Rose's first Christmas, sitting on Pete's lap as he held her tightly, a makeshift hat made from ribbons and bows on her head. He looks so sad … this was just a few weeks after mum died.

Rose taking her first steps, holding on to Pete's fingers for dear life. I could have sworn this was taken with mum…

Rose at her first birthday party, Pete standing proudly beside her as she smashed chocolate cake on her face. I thought it was mum … she said she wore her favorite shirt, and it took her hours to scrub out the chocolate … right?

Think …

Rose frowned. She closed the book, crossing her arms and hugging it tightly against her chest, and tucked her chin down, lost in contemplation.