I just wanted to send a special thank you to Purple Guest for your very kind reviews, since I'm unable to PM you. They are very much appreciated.

Two days later Rose stood in the control room, bouncing on her toes with excitement, as the Doctor and Jack prepared to pilot the TARDIS to what she sincerely hoped was Christmas Day at the Powell Estates. They had stopped for an afternoon on a small planet with some very nice shops (and a distinct lack of pears and slime, to both the Doctor's and Rose's relief) to complete their preparations. Rose had been quite amused to watch Jack drag a grumbling Doctor off into the crowds, and even more amused when they returned a couple hours later bickering "like an old married couple" as she had gleefully told them.

"Well, that was absolutely frustrating," Jack had said to her later as he poured himself a drink and plopped down on a chair in the kitchen. "He harangued one seller for fifteen minutes about the shoddiness of his merchandise and threatened to call some made-up intergalactic inspection team to shut them down. All the shoppers in the booth put down their stuff and left, and then the whole block of merchants turned us away."

"Been there, done that, have the tee shirt," Rose had commented sympathetically.

"Never again," he had vowed and bolted down his drink in one.

"Now remember, Christmas is December 25," she said as the Doctor danced with his usual manic grace around the console, pushing and twirling the controls.

"I know," he said through gritted teeth, attempting patience.

"2005," she added helpfully.

"Rose…" he said with a warning tone in his voice.

"One year late…" she chanted under her breath but loud enough for those distinctive ears to hear.

"Just you watch, Rose Tyler – I'll be spot on this time!" he boasted as he carefully (very carefully – he would never live it down if he botched this, he thought) set the final coordinates. "Ok, Jack – let's go!"

Rose braced herself against the railing as the TARDIS made its usual bumpy landing. The Doctor flipped on the parking break with a flourish. "There you go – Christmas Day, 2005, London!" he announced importantly.

"I'm withholding judgment 'til I see for meself," she muttered. "C'mon, let's go. Grab that bag, Jack. Doctor…" she pinned him with a piercing stare "be good."

"Oi! I'm always good!" Hm, it sounded like his indignant tone was going to get a real workout today, he thought wryly. But he did not want to spoil the day for her, so he added, "I promise."

Mollified, she turned to follow Jack, who had already stepped out of the TARDIS. Before she could take a step, however, the Doctor stayed her with a hand on her arm. "You look beautiful," he blurted out impulsively. Blast it, filter nonfunctional again, he thought, mentally kicking himself.

Rose slowly turned around. She was wearing a soft red sweater and slim black trousers with long black boots. Her hair tumbled in golden waves onto her shoulders, and she had applied her makeup with a much lighter hand than usual. She was lovely.

"For a human?" she asked with a hint of a teasing smile, and he cringed inside as he remembered saying those words on their first Christmas, in Cardiff. What a git he had been.

"You're beautiful. Full stop," he answered sincerely. In for a penny, in for a pound…

She stared up at him with undisguised astonishment, her face suffused with color. Her mouth opened and closed, at a complete loss for words, but before she could say anything, Jack's head poked back into the ship. "Are you coming?" he asked. "I see Mickey and a very excited blonde heading our way, so I think this is the place."

Color still high but recovering her poise, Rose held out her hand to the Doctor and waggled her fingers. "Ready?"

He shot a quick glance around the wonderfully safe control room and sighed heavily. How had this happened to him? A Time Lord, doing domestics… "As ready as I'll ever be," he pronounced with the tone of a man walking to the gallows, threading his fingers through hers and allowing her to pull him out into the pale sunshine of Christmas Day.

Memories rushed upon him as he cast his gaze around the cramped, grafittied space. Being pursued by an insistent blonde as he attempted to "swan off" with a plastic arm. Bringing Rose home to find "Missing" posters stuck everywhere. Being picked up by the military during the invasion of the Slitheen. Watching a boy wash away the words "Bad Wolf" from the side of the TARDIS. Carrying Rose's overloaded bag the day she joined him for real…

Jackie was running across the courtyard, Mickey trailing behind her. Rose dropped his hand and allowed her mum to sweep her into her arms. "Sweetheart, you're here!" Jackie exclaimed, hugging her daughter tightly. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it, but you're here!"

Hmph, first dig of the day, he thought grumpily. "Happy Christmas, Mum," Rose said, returning her mother's embrace. "Of course we're here – the Doctor promised, didn't he?" she added with a loyal glance back at him.

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything…" Jackie muttered quietly, forgetting (or perhaps not forgetting, knowing her, he silently groused) his acute hearing.

"Oi! Standin' right here," he reminded her, raising his eyebrows.

"Mum, you promised." Rose's voice held a warning.

Jackie released her daughter and walked up to the Doctor with a resigned expression. "Happy Christmas, Doctor. So glad you were able to come," she said, sounding as if she had rehearsed this.

At least ten snarky comebacks rose to his lips, but with difficulty he managed to suppress them all. "Thank you, Jackie," he replied dutifully. "Happy Christmas to you, too." Rose smiled at him encouragingly, and he felt uncomfortably like a dog being praised for a successful trick.

Obviously relieved that this duty was complete, Jackie eyed Jack with a look of extreme interest. Now this was going to be fun, the Doctor thought gleefully, leaning against the TARDIS, leather clad arms crossed over his chest.

"And who is this?" Jackie asked with a simper, sidling up to him.

"Captain Jack Harkness," volunteered Jack immediately, holding out his hand with his best matinee-idol smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tyler."

"Oh, call me Jackie," she smiled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "I do love a military man, Captain. And the pleasure is all mine, I'm sure." She ignored his hand and held out her arms instead. "No need to be so formal. Rose has told me all about you, so it's like we're already friends." She grabbed him and hugged him enthusiastically. The Doctor couldn't suppress his snort of laughter at Jack's surprised expression; Rose frowned at him, then turned away to hug Mickey, who had been eyeing him with ill-disguised distaste.

"Wouldn't hurt you to help a friend, would it?" Jack muttered, looking distinctly rumpled. Jackie had finally released him and, linking arms with Rose, was leading the way back to the apartment.

"Warned you, I did – might want to be more careful with the jokes in the future," the Doctor replied with an unrepentant grin. The chattering voices of the Tyler women drifted back to them as they followed behind. "Buckle up – that's just the beginning."

They all crowded into the apartment, slightly shabby yet festively decorated for the season, and settled around the living room. Rose sat next to Mickey, eagerly filling him in on all that had happened since "the tow truck incident." Jack lounged in a chair near the small Christmas tree, listening, eyes darting with interest around Rose's home. The Doctor stood apart, leaning stiffly against the wall and trying not to care that Mickey's knees were touching Rose's and that she seemed to have forgotten that he was there at all. Maybe, when no one was looking, he could slip out for just a few minutes, he thought hopefully. He had not liked the sound the TARDIS had made when -

"Doctor!" Jackie's voice hailed him from across the room. "Will you help me in the kitchen for a mo'? Drinks and nibbles, you know."

The Doctor gave a start of alarm. "Me? What about Rose?" he said loudly, clear desperation in his tone. His eyes sought Rose's, looking for rescue, but the frustrating girl was either too absorbed with Ricky or she was purposely ignoring his plight. Probably the latter. "She could – "

"She wants to catch up with Mickey," she interrupted firmly. "Come on, or is helping out above you?"

Shooting a pointed glare Jack's way (the captain was enjoying his discomfort entirely too much), he slowly trudged through the swinging door into the small kitchen. Jackie was bustling about, pulling down plates and bowls from the cupboards. "Put those crackers on the plate with the cheese, will you?" she asked him.

He hurried to do as she asked (just get this done, and then you can retreat, he told himself) while she poured wine into mismatched glasses. "So, Doctor," she said with studied airiness, "you're all better now?"

"Seem to be," he answered shortly.

"Rose was really worried," she continued, putting the glasses on a tray. "Never heard her sound so scared."

Great, a dressing-down from Jackie Tyler on Christmas, he thought in disgust. "I didn't mean to scare –" he began defensively.

Jackie turned around to face him, and he was surprised to see that her expression was not hostile but actually rather kind. "I know you didn't, Doctor," she said gently. "Just makin' sure you know how she felt. You may think she's all brave and outgoin', but she can be private about her feelings." She paused and regarded him with sudden keenness. "You're pretty private with your feelings too."

Her directness and perceptiveness caught him completely off guard. He did not know what to say to this, so he merely stood before her in silent discomfort. It was clear from her demeanor that she had something more to say, but she seemed to be unsure how to proceed. After awkwardly fiddling with the flatware piled up on the table, she finally said, "I wanted to thank you." A long pause, then "I haven't exactly been your biggest fan –" he could not quite suppress a small snort of laughter – "but you sent her home to me. Oh, I know she didn't stay." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "She's stubborn – got that from me, o'course. But you tried to keep her safe. That means a lot to me."

Whatever he had been expecting when he walked into the kitchen, it had not been this. "I meant it when I said I would keep her safe, Jackie. And yeah," he smiled ruefully, "she is stubborn."

"Did you ever have kids, Doctor?" Her question almost literally took his breath away. "Rose told me… about your home being destroyed. You're not really young, are you? I figured you might have had a family at some time."

No one had ever confronted him about his personal past in such a pointed way before, and the Doctor found he was unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. He thought of Susan as he gave her one short, sharp nod, blinking rapidly.

"Then you know what it feels like to worry about them and want them to be happy," she said softly. "She's my whole world, Rose is. I wish she would stay here." She sighed heavily but then continued, "I don't understand it, but she's so happy with you in that bleedin' box o'yours. If you could've seen her tryin' to get back to you…" She shook her head with a small laugh. "Well, I don't think you should try to send her away again, 'cause heaven knows what she'd do. Just promise me you'll bring her home to visit now and again."

To his surprise, he found himself feeling genuine respect for the woman. "I will, Jackie," he replied sincerely. A civil conversation with Jackie Tyler… would wonders never cease?

"And you can bring that Captain Jack with you, too," she added with a wicked smile. "Definitely easy on the eyes, that one." The Doctor rolled his eyes. Just can't help herself!

She handed him the tray of drinks but, before he could turn to go, she grabbed his wrist and blurted out quickly, as if afraid she would lose her nerve, "Doctor, Rose told me you took her back to… to see her dad."

"Yes, I did," he said steadily, hiding his unease. How much had Rose told her of that day?

"I just wondered… well, he was always so undependable, chasing his next daft scheme…" Her voice cracked slightly as she choked out, "Was she… proud of him? The way he was?" She searched his face with a hint of desperation as she asked the question.

The Doctor looked at her with compassion. Before him stood, not Jackie Tyler, wielder of The Slap, but a woman who still lived in the shadow of heartbreak. He, better than anyone, could understand that. "Yes, Jackie, she was," he answered quietly. "She said he was the best dad in the world."

He saw a tear spill over her lid and trickle down her cheek before she turned away from him, ostentatiously busying herself with preparations. "Oh, well, that's… that's good," she muttered, knocking over a bowl with shaking hands, trying to regain her composure. "Now, what are you doin', just faffin' about? Go and serve those drinks – if you can manage it, your Time Lordship." She had assumed her usual brash tone and attitude. The Doctor was not fooled but allowed her the deception.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," he sighed with pretend exasperation and carried the tray out of the room. And Rose thought I couldn't be sensitive, he thought with smug satisfaction as he passed around the drinks.

Christmas dinner was a quite painless affair after all. The food was good and everyone was on their best behavior. Jack regaled them with a few of his wild stories - all, as they inevitably did, involved him being naked at some point, much to Jackie's delight as she hung on his every word. Mickey even forgot to glare at the Doctor as they all laughed and joked. Rose taught Jack how to pull crackers, and he affixed the very bushy moustache he found inside his to his upper lip with childlike enthusiasm. The Doctor's cracker contained a gaudy pink crown, which Rose promptly snatched from his hands and plopped onto his head with undisguised glee. They toasted the holiday with eggnog, which Jackie had spiked and Jack had spiked more heavily still, and, in the five minutes between the alcohol hitting his system and his very efficient liver metabolizing it, the Doctor impulsively and tipsily promised Rose that they could come back tomorrow for tea after their grocery run.

"I'm holding you to that!" Rose laughed. "I have witnesses!"

After dinner they moved back to the living room and passed out the presents. Jackie splashed on the perfume Rose gave her with exclamations of delight, filling the room with the smell. Jack raved over the collection of twentieth century classic rock from Rose – Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles- and swore to put the new tools from the Doctor to very good use on the TARDIS. Jackie was pleased with the large box of exotic off-world chocolates ("It is real chocolate, isn't it?" she asked nervously) from the Doctor and fuzzy pink scarf from Jack ("It changes color with your mood," he announced, and she was so excited that it immediately turned a bright gold). A manual of advanced computer coding, a bottle of hypervodka, and a hand-knitted hat made their way to Mickey, while boxes of clothes and makeup surrounded Rose, who was positively bubbling with childlike joy.

The Doctor was enjoying her reactions so much that she had to remind him to open his own gifts. He found a jar of leather lotion for his jacket from Mickey, a book of positively filthy jokes from Jack (he quickly hid that away under the wrapping paper, his ears turning red as Jack laughed at his embarrassment), and a surprisingly nice new jumper in a soft shade of blue from Jackie. Rose watched him intently as he opened her gift last. He beamed with pleasure at the sight of a hand-tooled leather bound copy of David Copperfield – first edition, too, he discovered as he carefully opened the cover. "Rose, it's mint," he declared. "Where did you find a first edition?"

"Just a dumpy little second-hand shop." She peeped at the title page curiously. "I didn't even notice. I just saw it was Dickens – knew you were his biggest fan, after all – and it was in such beautiful condition."

"Thank you. I love it." She grinned as he tucked it into his dimensionally transcendent jacket pocket with great care. When he removed his hand, he was holding a small rectangular box wrapped in red paper, which he handed to her before sitting back down in his chair. His whole body seemed to hum with nervous anticipation as, with an intrigued look, she began to unwrap it.

"Rose, sweetheart, what's wrong?" asked Jackie as she saw Rose open the lid of the box and stare blankly into it without saying a word, her mouth falling open in a perfect "O" . The Doctor watched with poorly concealed excitement as she held up the slim silver tube and gazed at it, utterly astounded.

"Now before you get all excited," he said swiftly, "it only has a few settings – torch, lock and unlock, that sorta thing. Can't hand a full one to such a jeopardy-friendly human, can I? Figure out a way to start World War III, you would," he added, trying to sound grumpy and failing utterly.

Jack and Mickey's attention was now focused on her as she looked at the sonic screwdriver in speechless wonder. She raised her eyes to the Doctor, her face radiant, and he was almost knocked back by the blast of joy she unknowingly sent his way. Then she launched herself out of her chair and, throwing herself into his hastily outstretched arms, hugged him fiercely. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she whispered into his neck, overcome with emotion, her breath hot against his skin.

"Happy Christmas," he murmured, pressing a kiss onto her temple and feeling somehow as if he had received the bigger gift.

Extricating herself from his embrace, she held out her sonic to be admired. "Look, Mum… look, Mickey, it's a sonic screwdriver," he heard her say, awestruck.

"Nice one, Doc," Jack said appreciatively, nodding his head, and the Doctor shrugged in feigned nonchalance. Only his smile gave him away.

As unexpectedly well as the day went, the Doctor was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed – too much domesticity, he realized uncomfortably. Luckily Rose seemed to realize this almost as soon as he felt the first touches of claustrophobia.

"Time to say goodnight, I think," she announced to the room in general. When Jackie began to complain, she added, "We'll be back for tea tomorrow, Mum – right, Doctor?" She winked at him teasingly.

"Man of my word, me," he replied grudgingly.

Wrapping paper was binned, presents gathered, and hugs exchanged – the Doctor managed to dodge Jackie, but Jack did not and submitted to the embrace with good grace. But his luck ran out at the doorway when Jack pointed above the Doctor's head at a green sprig dangling from a thread.

"Look who's under the mistletoe!" he exclaimed with a devilish grin. "Who is going to do the honors?"

Rose blushed brilliantly red and Mickey glared daggers as Jack shot her a mischievous look. Before the Doctor could make a run for it, however, Jackie stepped forward.

"Oh, c'mere, you daft alien!" she said loudly and, reaching up, grabbed him by the ears, pulled his head down, and planted a noisy kiss right on his gaping mouth.

A moment of stunned silence and then, as the Doctor flushed right to the tips of those ears, the room exploded with uproarious, hysterical laughter. Mickey was doubled over, clutching his sides. Tears were pouring down Jack's face as he leaned against the wall for support, and Rose had reached the point where her laughter could no longer be heard and she could hardly catch her breath. Jackie merely looked at the Doctor with smug satisfaction.

"Would've preferred a slap I think," he muttered to Rose as they finally left the apartment and walked back to the TARDIS. Jack was wheezing slightly and wiping his eyes, and Rose's cheeks were still flushed with merriment.

"You made it through Christmas," she proudly smiled at him as he unlocked the blue door. Standing on tiptoes as she passed him to enter the ship, she quickly kissed him on the cheek and announced, "And everybody lived, Doctor – everybody lived."

*o*o*o*o*o*o*

He found Rose in the library a couple hours later, as he wandered the halls of his ship unable to rest, and watched her silently from the doorway. She was lying on her favorite squashy sofa, wrapped in a colorful blanket. One hand held a mug, the other her new sonic. The sound of the merrily crackling fire blended with the soft Christmas music the TARDIS was piping through the room. Deciding not to disturb her, he was about to slip away unnoticed when she turned her head and saw him.

"Hi," she said with a smile.

"Hi yourself," he answered. "You're still awake."

"Not ready for bed yet. Thought I'd read for a bit, but the TARDIS made the room so cozy I decided to just enjoy it. You?"

"Going to read, too." He held up his gift. "Someone gave me a wonderful new book. Budge up," he commanded, walking over to the sofa and gesturing at the end occupied by her legs. She pulled them up to make room for him, setting her mug down on the floor as she did. Removing his jacket and draping it over the sofa's back, he sat down, pulled her feet out from under the blanket, unceremoniously removed her fuzzy socks, and began to rub them. She gave a little squeal at the coolness of his hands, then sighed with contentment.

"That's nice," she hummed. "I forgot how much those boots pinch my toes."

"And they're such nice toes, too," he replied teasingly, admiring the red polish.

She watched his large, work-roughened hands kneading her feet for a moment, then said quietly, "Thank you. For the foot rub, yes, and this –" she held out her sonic with a wondering look –"but more for the whole day. I know it wasn't easy for you."

"It was actually all right," he admitted with a hint of reluctance. "Like you said, everybody lived. "

"Barely, I think, when my mum kissed you. I wish you could've seen the look on your face!" She chuckled, a warm, rich sound that curled low inside him.

"Think I handled it quite well, considering," he returned with an attempt at dignity. "Your mum and I have come to an understanding. I'll keep watchin' out for you, she won't slap me into next week."

"Seems fair," Rose agreed with alacrity. "Told you she's softenin' up to you."

"I think bringing Jack along helped that," he said dryly.

"Oh, yeah, a definite plus," she grinned.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the music and the snap of the burning logs. Her skin was warm and soft in his hands, but he wanted more. After a moment of indecision, he ran them up over her ankles to her calves, toned with running, and she made a soft purring noise in the back of her throat as he massaged them, too. Mmm, definitely a positive reaction, he thought with satisfaction, storing that particular sound away in his memory. Now this was a Christmas he could enjoy.

"I never wanted to go to bed on Christmas night," Rose said, breaking the silence, her voice low and eyes fixed dreamily on the fire. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing the gentle curves of her profile as she continued, "We didn't have much when I was growin' up, Mum and me. She worked hard, but hairdressing doesn't pay a lot. Had what we needed but not many extras, even on Christmas. Sometimes, if business had been good, there would be a few more presents under our little tree. One year there was even a red bicycle." She cast him a sly little look out of the corner of her eye. "But some years there wasn't much at all. We always had a good day, though. In the evening we would curl up on the sofa with tea or cocoa and listen to carols on the radio and talk until I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was the best part of the day."

The eyes she turned upon him were full of firelight. "Did you have anything like Christmas… on your planet?" she asked hesitantly. She rarely asked him anything about his home, knowing how much it hurt him to remember. But tonight, in the warm, gentle privacy of the library, he felt safe enough to answer.

"Not really Christmas," he said slowly. "Not presents and lights and such. We did have a day when… we would share a thought or memory with those we really cared about, one we'd never shared before. Pretty private people, us, even though we're telepathic, so doin' that was a sign of trust. Old custom, most of the younger people didn't even know about it. Lots of years I never shared anything at all – didn't have anyone I was close enough to."

"I just told you about my favorite part of Christmas – never told anyone that before." Rose smiled at him shyly. "I guess I just celebrated your holiday, too."

Her face was guileless, and he knew she expected no return confession from him. The Doctor cast his gaze upon the fire, rubbing her insteps absently. He felt as if he was hovering on the edge of a precipice, caught between fear and a desire to let go, for just one moment to let go… "The name of my planet was Gallifrey," he finally whispered.

He did not look at her, but he heard her breath catch and hold as if she was afraid to break the spell that had opened him up. "The sky on Gallifrey was burnt orange. It had two suns, and when the second sun rose in the south, the white tops of the mountains would shine. The dome over the Citadel would glow – it was so beautiful, that city." The library receded from him as he remembered. "The leaves on the trees were silver – they caught the light every morning and made the forests look like they were on fire. When autumn came, the breeze would blow through the branches and make those leaves sing. When they fell, they would cover the red grass like glitter. I loved to lie in them and stare up into the sky and dream…dream of traveling …"

His voice trailed away as he returned to the present and looked at Rose. She wore the same expression she had when she had seen her sonic – stunned, overwhelmed. "Thank you," she whispered, a shine of tears in her eyes, and he knew that, with her wise, beautiful heart, she understood and accepted his gift.

It was suddenly all too much for him, the emotion and the memories – he was still so raw inside. She seemed to sense it, because she broke eye contact and gestured to the book he had set on the arm of the sofa. "Read to me?"

He was both relieved and strangely saddened by the loss of contact. "Your wish is my command, my lady," he acquiesced with a slight bow of his head, reaching for his gift. Lifting her legs, Rose swung herself around so that her head was now pillowed on his lap. He could feel the heat of her through the denim of his trousers. She turned on her side so she could watch the fire, and her hand rested warm on his knee, and her golden hair spilled across his lap. Opening the book, he cleared his throat and began to read, his voice low and slightly husky,

"'Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously…'"