Author's Note: I still do not own the characters/settings/general awesomeness of Doctor Who. Much thanks to the folks who recently followed; I know the exposition can get tiring, but I promise I'll make it pay off. And to TK, I sincerely hope I don't disappoint. As much as I adore 10; and to an only slightly lesser degree, 11; 9 was the one who made me a fan, and it all just felt so unfinished. I couldn't stop thinking, 'what if 9 had the time with her he wanted.' So, like any other internet a-hole, I started poking around until I broke things and made them do what I want. In any case, here's the scene where he finally shows his "daft face."

Enjoy everyone! ...I hope.

"Mum, why'd you have to invite Tom?" Rose asked, quickly snatching a glass of champagne as they dodged past a server. The guests were all happily speaking amongst themselves, and the entire ground floor of the mansion was humming with laughter, clinking glasses, and conversation. In Rose's state of mind, she was endlessly thankful no one was paying attention to her.

"What? Why wouldn't I? He was my son in law, after all. Practically family! No need to be odd about it." Jackie dismissed Rose's protest, "Right now, I want you to meet Collin. He's a barrister, works with your father's company. He just came back from a vacation in Toronto. Oh, you'd like him, always traveling to exotic places."

"Mum…" Rose protested just as she'd drained the glass and handed it off to a server. She wanted to point out that Toronto didn't count as "exotic" in this or any universe.

"Oh, don't argue, Rose. He's a handsome young man, he'd do you good." Jackie insisted, finally slowing down. She scanned the assembled partygoers for a moment before pointing toward the French doors leading to the back terrace. "Ah, that's where he's got to!" Jackie said, and she pulled Rose forward. Finally returning to her senses, Rose pulled back and stopped her mother in her tracks. Jackie turned, confusion plain on her face.

"No." Rose said, as gently as she could, "I'm sorry, mum, but no."

"But Rose…" Jackie protested, concern replacing her former excitement.

"No, mum. I'm not meeting the barrister you've picked out for me. Or the bobby, or the magistrate, or the…" she faltered, nearly saying doctor, "cardiac surgeon!" Jackie looked stunned at the outburst.

"I just want what's best for you, sweetheart." Jackie pleaded.

"I know, mum, but this isn't it."

"I don't want you to be alone." Jackie Tyler's tone was rarely so soft. The party rolled on around them, oblivious to the moment.

"I'm not alone," Rose assured, now gentle. She placed her hands on her mother's shoulders, "I'm never alone, mum. It's not just traveling all over, collectin' alien artifacts and savin' the planet, you know? I've met so many people, been invited into their homes, made part of their families; I've made a difference."

"What about your own family?"

"You know I love you all. I do. But there's more to me, to my life, than just you."

"Why can't you just be happy, sweetheart? With us, with havin' a home and a good man and maybe children of your own."

"Mum, I just wasn't built that way. I tried, I thought I'd be happy settling down a bit, I really did, but I wasn't. I wasn't and Tom found someone who could be happy like that. For me it's…" Rose stalled, searching desperately for a way to explain herself, "It's like wearin' shoes three sizes too small. It's not just inconvenient or uncomfortable; it's painful. It's nearly impossible."

"It's all that bloody Doctor's fault."

"Mum!" Rose snapped, losing her patience, "Don't. Don't you dare blame him. This is who I am, who I've always been. Travelin' with the Doctor only made me realize it. So stop lookin' for someone or something to blame for me turnin' out wrong. If you can't accept it, if you can't find it in you to be happy that I'm happy, then we're done talkin'."

"Rose…" Jackie sighed, but her daughter cut her off.

"I'm done." Rose, said, calmly swiping another glass of champagne from a passing server, "I need a moment, and I think so do you. I'll be in the kitchens gettin' pissed." Rose raised her glass in silent toast to her mother's stunned face before quickly dodging toward the back of the house. It was a rare thing, rendering Jackie Tyler speechless, and Rose didn't take nearly as much pleasure in it as she thought she might. Pushing back the anxiety, Rose drained the champagne glass and handed it off, rather unceremoniously, to some random guest. The stunned stranger in the tuxedo watched her disappear through the swinging mahogany doors leading to the kitchen.

The servers and kitchen staff were more than a little surprised to see Rose come sauntering into the kitchen. She paused a moment, smiled, and nodded at them all before crossing the room and pulling a bottle of brandy out of the massive liquor cabinet. The half-dozen or so staff assembled in the kitchen stopped and watched her a moment before the head of house, Wilfred, chastised them to get back to work. Rose had set the bottle on the counter and was unscrewing the cap when a brandy snifter was pushed into her line of sight.

"If you're goin' to get rat-arsed, then, missus, you'll use a glass, at least." Wilfred Mott said, smiling. Rose couldn't help but smile back.

"For queen and country?" Rose teased, pouring herself a glass. A flash of confusion crossed the old man's face.

"You do say the strangest things sometimes, missus."

"Cheers, Wilf." Rose said, raising her glass to him and draining it.

"Cheers, indeed, missus," Wilfred chuckled before turning to address the staff, "Everyone, gather up your trays and head out. Let's give the missus a moment alone." The servers filtered out of the kitchen, obediently, and Wilfred exited last. Rose refilled her glass and turned around, leaning back against the counter. The large, gourmet kitchen was still, but she could hear the mirth echoing through the house. Sighing, she swirled the brandy around in the snifter, lips pursed in contemplation. The rich-hued liquid held her attention, hypnotic and prismatic as it circled the glass. She'd been so proud of herself, resolving to embrace the spirit of the party, to have a good time. Then, things had gone spectacularly to pot.

It felt like failure, a personal failure. Rose downed the brandy and poured herself another. She knew she had to go back out there, eventually, and she couldn't go out there sloshed and make a fool of herself. Well, she could, but she didn't want to. To that end, she decided this ought to be her last glass. Still, she had little desire to return to the ballroom immediately, so she took her time. She savored each sip, closing her eyes and allowing the happy tingle of inebriation to calm her frayed nerves. Then, just as she emptied the last dregs of her glass, she heard something strange. She heard ticking, a soft, rhythmic ticking. She looked about the kitchen, but all the clocks were digital.

Rose set her glass down hesitantly before shuffling the stack of bracelets on her left wrist. She hadn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she saw, plain as day, the second-hand on The Doctor's watch was moving, and she exhaled heavily. Before she had as much as a split second to fully absorb that fact, she heard footsteps, rapid and heavy, coming down the back stairwell, the servant's stairs, toward the kitchen. The steps grew louder, closer, and Rose stood upright and turned to face the stairway door. When the door suddenly swung open, her heart leapt into her throat.

"Oi!" an all-too-familiar voice exclaimed in an all-too-familiar Northern accent, "Uh, right. This – this is not what it looks like." The clothes were the same, the black boots, black slacks, worn leather jacket, and navy blue jumper. Rose hadn't looked square at his face, yet, and couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she noted the large, rough hands and the fact that he held a frantic hen cradled under his left arm and a ball-peen hammer in his right hand.

"No, really," he insisted, and Rose finally had to look up. Those angular features with the keen gray-blue eyes, that face she'd missed from the very moment it first vanished from her life, took her completely unawares.

"It's hard to explain," he continued, "But I promise, I don't go around nailin' chickens. Well, that sounds just as bad, dunnit?" he half smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. "Funny story actually, I was just…" he seemed to notice, finally, the odd expression on her face. "S'there somethin' wrong?" with his concerned look, Rose found her voice.

"Doctor?" she asked, her voice strangled. The Doctor, if he was indeed so, stood up a bit straighter and tilted his head. He paused a moment to really look at her, bemused and ignoring the fidgeting, clucking hen.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

Footnote: Dun, dun, duuuuuuuun!