#not only because it humanized jackie in the story and made her more three dimensional but bc it pointed to her love for jack as well

[strryhaze]

jackie, dawn tripp.

[lunawho47]

Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go -- a Fourteen and Rose One Shot

A/N: Okay, so for the first time in actual years, I was bitten by the writing bug. And, as I should have expected, it was Doctor Who (and specifically the possibility, however small, that I may get a Doctor and Rose Tyler scene at some point) that nipped me. I am firmly on the Metacrisis Ten and Rose lived happily ever after train, but this is a scene between the Fourteenth Doctor and Rose and is canonically how I think a scene between them would play out. Spoilers for what we know about the upcoming episode of The Giggle and a lot of supposition based on what I remember from the First Doctor story of The Celestial Toymaker. Spoilers also for the Titan Comics story of Empire of the Wolf and the short stories about the Metacrisis Doctor done by Big Finish Audio. The only thing that's not canon is that rubbish short story Jenny Colgan wrote for Target Books.

Give it a read and let me know what you think!

<0>

The Doctor could feel the buzzing starting underneath his skin. Multiple times throughout his battle with the Toymaker, his next self had already come through; in truth, it was only by using the differing skill sets of both incarnations that the Doctor felt he was going to regenerate again and not just simply die. But, oh...he was now so, so tired. The artron energy shot through him again and he watched as reality flickered in and out around him.

The Doctor's legs gave out from under him and he collapsed on the sofa in Donna's house. His best friend and her family were all safe. They weren't unscathed, of course -- that was nigh on impossible when it came to playing inter-dimensional games with a Celestial being -- but they were alive and Donna could remember him. The Doctor even lied to himself for a moment and promised himself that he would come back and visit her with his next face, that a regeneration would not stop him from keeping up his friendship for once. But with the next burst of arton-induced pain, he stopped lying to himself. Donna would need to move on with her life and protect her daughter, Rose. As long as he kept showing up at her doorstep, she would be in danger. And Donna would never turn him away. And one day, she would let him in and it would be the time that would get her or someone close to her killed. No, the Doctor would tell Donna goodbye and then he'd slip away.

After a nap, maybe. Yeah, a nap sounded good.

He lay down on the couch and closed his eyes. Goodness, he was running through regenerations. This most recent one, even though it had been manipulated into its appearance by the Toymaker, had only lasted him a few days. As the Doctor thought about it and remembered that he had no idea how many new regenerations the Time Lords had gifted him with, he mentally schooled his future self to try to live as long as possible. His Thirteenth self had only lasted a few decades, and most of those she had been in prison. No, his next self needed to last at least three hundred years because otherwise he would be really dead before he could find a way to restore what he could of the universe. And he needed to fix what the Flux had destroyed.

When the Doctor coughed, even more energy burst from his lungs. As he lay on the couch in Donna's house, he couldn't help but remember another regeneration with the same face. *His* Rose had sat beside him then, dealing with an alien invasion while he had slept and healed himself. Up until Jackie had made him a nice cup of tea anyway. He had been so hopeful then. With his pink and yellow human beside him, he had felt like he could run forever, and he had foolishly thought that that particular Christmas would be a day that felt like every other day. But Rose was gone and she had been gone for millions of years. However, over the previous few days, the Doctor had seen his old face return, come across one of his oldest enemies he had never thought to see again, had gone on an adventure with his best friend again and seen his old friend Mel working at UNIT. Why couldn't he see the love of his lives show up again, too? The Doctor smiled a bit at the thought.

He tried to picture what his Rose would be like now. He imagined his Metacrisis self would look a lot like his fully Time Lord self currently did. He would be thinner in the face, a bit more salt and pepper in his hair, and he would probably have to wear glasses because he needed them and not just to look clever. Rose, he was sure, would be beautiful. He hoped she would have laughter lines around her mouth and crow's feet at her eyes. He also hoped that by this point in their lives, Rose would have a couple of rings on her finger. Maybe they even had children together! The more he thought about it, the more clear the image became in his mind. He was sure that if he thought about it long enough, he'd even be able to hear her voice.

Even sooner than he could have hoped, his imagination provided him with a crystal clear rendition of an older Rose Tyler's voice.

"Yes, Mia, you can stay the night at Yvonne's. Just don't...I know you get tired of me telling you to stay away from the Cybus kiosks, but it's better than listening to your dad tell you the entirety of that adventure over again, isn't it? And it's definitely better than having to listen to your Granddad's rendition of the tale... Yes. Yes, I will tell your father you love him. Yep. Yep. Be good and I'll see you tomorrow. Love you, darlin'. Goodnight, sweetheart."

The Doctor kept his eyes closed. He had pictured his former love's voice many times over the centuries and this was as clear as it had ever been. Her voice was a bit scratchier than he remembered, and she spoke with a much more cultured tone than she'd had at 19 years old. His mind had even taken the motherly tone he'd heard Donna use with her daughter and molded it on to Rose's and it melted his heart completely. If his imagination was right and Rose was a mother, then Rose was a remarkable one he was sure. Definitely a better mother than he was a father.

"Oi! Sleepy head, it's time to get up! Aliens to battle and young, teenage girls to raise. Though you get a bit of a break on that one this evening. Lucky you."

The Doctor felt Donna nudge his foot. He tried to raise his head, but felt no desire to open his eyes. Donna's words could match Rose's voice if he kept his eyes closed. But if he opened them, then the fantasy was over and his regeneration would knock away all the happiness he had brought back to himself over the previous few days.

"Doctor! Wake up, you numpty!"

"Sorry, Donna, I just really wanted to rest my eyes."

"Donna? Have you been dreaming again, Doctor?"

The Doctor forced his eyes open. His imagination had done a very good job constructing a realistic fantasy. The Doctor's eyes were looking up at a pair of honey brown eyes framed by light brown hair and a face that was rounder than he last remembered seeing it four lifetimes previously, and a body that possessed less curves than he remembered, but that looked healthy and warm.

The Time Lord then moved his eyes around the room as much as he could without moving his head. He was no longer in Donna's house. Instead, he was in a living room painted a dark blue and in the window over Rose's shoulder, he could just glimpse a zeppelin floating across the London skyline. As with his best friend's home, fantasy Rose's house looked lived in and comfortable, with various knick knacks spread across the coffee table adjacent to the couch and what the Doctor guessed was a television mounted on the wall. It looked like the flat screen he was familiar with in the 21st century, but was see through instead of black.

The Doctor praised his clear memory of everything Rose Tyler related because he adored that the fantasy version of her managed to raise her eyebrows at him exactly the way her real counterpart had always done. He had often feared that his memory of her was fading, but everything about her at this moment was in high definition visual and stereo sound. He theorised that maybe his regeneration sickness was helping to make his illusions more detailed.

"You feeling okay, love? You're staring at me like I've grown another head. And of the two of us, I'm the one least likely to do that."

"Rose," he muttered. It was a name he'd said multiple times over the previous few days, and after centuries of not saying it at all if he (or she) could help it, it felt like a revelation to be saying it to the face that word always conjured to mind. Without warning, he was seized with pain again and he saw the regeneration energy encircle his hand.

His illusory Rose stood up, her eyes going wide as she stared down at him.

"Oh my god, you're regenerating! How are you regenerating? I thought you couldn't regenerate! Does this mean Mia can regenerate? Wait, why are you regenerating? You didn't even go into Big Ben today! I know you didn't because Mum was complaining that you weren't around to stop Melvin disrespecting her when he came through the canteen earlier today. What did you do? Pick a fight with a Weevil? No, you couldn't have done. No bite marks or anything. Doctor, answer me. What's happened? What do I tell Mia when she asks me why her father looks like a completely different person when she gets home tomorrow? Oh god, what happens if you go full alien?"

The Doctor wanted to answer her, but in addition to not being left any room or space to throw his voice into the ring, he was also taken aback by how detailed his mind was being about the kinds of questions a parent version of Rose would ask. As he breathed out more energy, he saw the room and Rose flicker in and out, the flashes interspersed with Donna's living room.

"Wait," Rose said, her voice slowing down and getting softer as she sat down on the edge of the couch next to the Doctor's torso, her hand reaching out to grab the Doctor's own. The Doctor held his breath as he felt two warm fingers reach down to his wrist and put themselves against his pulse. The Doctor allowed his dark brown eyes to meet the lighter brown of Rose's as she then put both her palms against the two sides of the Doctor's chest and felt his heartsbeat. "Doctor," she muttered softly.

"Hello, Rose Tyler," he whispered. Rose took in a shaky breath as the Doctor let out another cloud of energy. The room flickered again, but the Doctor noted that the warmth of Rose's skin was still present against his own body. The Doctor couldn't help but acknowledge the truth then. His imagination was good, but it wasn't as flawless as what his senses were telling him now. He didn't understand fully how it had happened -- doubtless the Celestial Toymaker's machinations with dimensions had thrown things briefly out of whack at the quantum mechanical level and the Doctor was reaping the most unbelievable benefits from it. He may be regenerating, but he was getting one last wish out of the bargain. Oh, if his Tenth self could see him now. His tired, regeneration sick mind couldn't quite work out all the whys and wherefores, but he knew a gift from the universe when he saw it, and damn it, he was going to take advantage of it.

"I should have known it was you and not my husband. You have a slightly different dress sense than he does. Oh, and the wedding ring is missing, of course."

"Of course," the Doctor agreed. His eyes went down to her hand and he smiled to see that his Metacrisis had done what the Time Lord had always dreamed of doing and made a full life with his favorite human woman.

"So, I take it you were with Donna still when you found yourself here. Is that why you thought I was her?"

"Well, more like with Donna again. It's complicated."

"Oh, of course it is. Wouldn't be you if it was simple."

The Doctor watched Rose as she took in his ensemble and his face after all their years of separation.

"Wow. You and my husband look exactly the same in the face. I mean, I know you did last time we saw each other, but I didn't think you'd age. God, how many years has it been? I mean, it has to have been awhile because you've changed your outfit a bit and I didn't think you did that very often."

"Oh, I'm not the same incarnation you remember. I've regenerated a few times since we last met. Ended up with this face again earlier this week, but it turned out the fact that I came back with this face was a bit of a setup from an old enemy. It was more like I got paused mid-regeneration and I can feel the next one fighting to come through."

Rose and the Doctor both looked down as he said this and saw his hand pulse with energy and shift to a black hand and back to white again.

"Okay, so you obviously don't have long. I won't ask how you ended up here because I don't think we have time for that explanation, but...how are you? All these years, that's the main thing I've worried about. I knew one day you would regenerate and I'd never know, and I worried you'd be alone."

"Sometimes I have been. I've lost people. I've lost a lot of people. I found out I saved Gallifrey." The Doctor almost laughed at how wide Rose's eyes got at that point. "And then I lost it again two lifetimes later when the Master -- I'm guessing I've told you about him -- destroyed it when he discovered that the Time Lords had lied to us. We didn't get our regeneration gift naturally. They got it from me and then they scrubbed my memories -- whole lifetimes I may never remember -- and then they destroyed over half of the universe to cover up their mistake. I've blown up the TARDIS numerous times. Fell in love a couple of times..." The Doctor sheepishly looked up at Rose's face as he squeezed her hand. He was happy to see that she only smiled softly, squeezed his hand back with her right hand and used her left hand to brush his hair back from his forehead.

"What were your incarnations like? The ones after I last saw you, I mean?"

"Well, there was one who looked like a twenty year old professor who liked to wear tweed. You actually met him once -- he came to tutor you in maths back when you were in year 4 and I was so proud of how quickly you learned what you claimed made no sense -- and then I became an angry, white haired Scotsman, and then a young, blonde Yorkshire woman. And then I got this face again."

"You were a woman?"

"Yep!"

"Bet you were a babe."

"Oh, I'm always a dish, Rose Tyler." He paused. "I take it that is still your name, isn't it? I didn't make you Rose Smith or something when I married you, did I? Because that would be absolute rubbish! To work so hard to make you fall in love with me and save you from marrying Mickey Smith, only to saddle you with the same name."

"When you married me, you said, and I quote, 'You have always been and will always be Rose Tyler,' and then you asked if you could take my name. You had been going by John Noble on legal documents up until then, but you didn't have any sentimentality for the name, outside of your connection with Donna, so you didn't mind giving it up. I agreed that you could take my name as long as we could remember Donna through at least one of our children, if we ever had any."

"And then came Mia?"

"And then came Mia Donna Tyler."

"It's a shame this dimensional breakdown is only working with me because Mia has a cousin who I know would really love to meet her. I've spent the last few days getting to know Rose Noble and she is so much like you. One of the first things I heard her do was ask about an alien's pronouns. You would have loved her."

"I already do. Just listening to the way you talk about her."

"What's Mia like? Is she more like you or me? Just whatever you do, don't say she's like Jackie."

Rose laughed the loud belly laugh that always made the Doctor smile in response.

"Well, she's too smart for her own good, like you. She's more than a bit rude, like you. And she has a tendency to wander off, like me. She also cares about everyone and everything, like you."

"Oh no, Rose Tyler. That kind of caring isn't from me. That's all you."

"Agree to disagree on that one, love."

The Doctor seized again. He could feel his insides morphing, the change becoming insistent.

"What can I do, Doctor? What do you need?"

"Nothing. I just needed to see you. I need to tell you something. This particular incarnation has one thing about it that's very different from my previous self. I'm not afraid to say things anymore. I've lost too much now for it to scare me. I know now that not saying things doesn't help me let them go. I spent days wondering why this face came back. And I kept thinking I had figured it out and then I would be proved wrong. But I understand now.

"The last time I had this face, I didn't want to let go of it. And it made me a vengeful, frightening, reckless god and other people paid the price for it. But I didn't want to let go because I was terrified of what person I would become without you there. Because you had been there for me before I had even met you -- it's a long story, don't worry about it -- and I held on to you, to the memory of you and all the things I wanted to say that I was too afraid to, and as long as I had this face, I thought there was the possibility I would see you again. And then I saw you for the last time, do you remember?"

Rose furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side in question.

"2005. January the First. I told you that you were going to have a really great year."

"Cognitive dissonance most likely. You weren't thinking at the time about the fact that one day I'd be without you, so why would it occur to you that I would ever go back in time to see you?

"Oh my god. I held on to that message from what I assumed was a drunk for months. Until I met you in Henrik's. Of course that was you. I can't believe I never put that together before. That was your voice. How did I never recognize it when you first changed?"

"Anyway, within hours of getting this face again, I found myself face to face with Donna, and then I met her daughter, Rose (whose name nearly gave me a hearts attack at first, let me tell you), and then I came across an enemy I haven't seen since just after I first left Gallifrey! But in these last few days, everything my Tenth self was terrified to say has come pouring out of my mouth. Any person I find attractive -- male or female -- I say it! The love I've always felt for Donna and her family? I've admitted it to them. The feelings I had for the wife I had after you -- River -- and for my friend, Yaz -- I've talked about them with other people and without having to be prompted!

"The one thing I haven't done is tell you -- my greatest love -- how I feel about you."

"Doctor, you don't have to ---"

"And I know you know. I know the version of me that is your husband tells you every day. I know because I would have even then, if I wasn't so afraid of what losing you a second time would inevitably do to me. But I need to say it. Not because I think you need to hear it. But because I need to say it for me. I need the memory of having the words come from my lips just one time."

Rose leaned over the Doctor's prostrate body. Her right hand disentangled itself from his and reached down over his face to caress his cheek. It was at that moment that the Doctor realised, much to his embarrassment, that he was crying.

"Then say it."

"I love you, Rose Tyler. I always have. And I always will."

"Quite right, too."

"I guess I deserve that one."

"Damn right, you do. But I love you, too, you daft alien."

The Doctor felt the heat under his skin start to itch the familiar tones away. Despite the pain, he was soothed by the briefest touch of Rose's lips against his own. It wasn't the passionate kiss he'd witnessed between she and his Metacrisis all those years before, and it wasn't what he had fantasized about for many a lonely night on the TARDIS, but it comforted him. This was the kiss from someone he loved and who loved him and he felt the warmth of it through every inch of his body and soul.

"Y'know, Rose Tyler...For the first time ever, I think I'm ready to go."

"Then I guess this is goodbye."

Rose's voice broke and the Doctor noted for the first time that she was crying. And oh, how that hurt him. Every time they said goodbye, she was crying for him. He just wished he could find some way to stop breaking her heart.

"Oh, it's never goodbye for you. This face will be coming through that door to greet you before you know it. It's never over for you. You get my forever, lucky girl."

"I am a lucky girl. Because you loved me enough to make sure I would get a happy ending you couldn't get. Know this, Doctor. I love you. All your friends love you. We will always love you and if you ever need any of us, no matter what face you wear or what trouble you bring to our door, you are always welcome. I may not have met all of your friends. But I know what kind of people you take with you, and I can guarantee you, you never have to miss any of us.

"Until we meet again. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, my Rose."

The Doctor closed his eyes and felt Rose's lips once again chastely embrace his own. After a few moments, the warmth of her mouth faded, along with the solid build of her body. When the Doctor opened his eyes, he once again saw the familiar surroundings of Donna's living room. He still was not entirely positive if he had really slipped through dimensions or if he had merely fallen asleep, but the tingling in his lips from Rose's kiss made him inclined to believe the happier of the two options. After all, the Toymaker had shown him twice in his lifetime that reality is shaped by how people perceive it, and the Doctor's desire and will to see his former companion had been the strongest thing he had ever known.

In the quiet hours of the early morning, the Doctor slipped out of Donna's house and took the TARDIS to an isolated beach. As he stood outside, watching a sunrise in this too short regeneration for the last time, he smiled. As he had told Rose, for the first time that he could remember, he was ready to go.

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 12: December 24, 2027

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: When Charlie makes a new friend, it opens her eyes up to the world around her, and her life is changed forever.

Notes: This was a long one, and along with a bloody awful cold, set me back from my schedule by a few days. I’m trying to make it up and get ahead again, but I fear the time is nigh when I will not be able to post on schedule.

 @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci deserve all the hugs. Thanks so much for all your support, ladies.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Feast.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2027

Dear Father Christmas,

I am always proud of my children. I’m their mum. It’s only natural. But this year my pride for Charlie is absolutely overflowing, above and beyond the pride that normally comes from being a parent. It has nothing to do with her intelligence, but everything to do with her compassion and her determination. This year, I am just so proud to know this wonderful little person, a glowing example of the best that humanity has to offer.

This year marked the twentieth anniversary of the formation of the People’s Republic and the dismantling of the Army Blockades and curfews imposed on the poorest parts of London and other major centres around Britain. I have to say, despite the Doctor’s misgivings, from what I could see, Harriet Jones was truly the people’s president. In her three consecutive terms in office, she made huge strides to create jobs and educational opportunities for so many people who had been controlled and subjugated for years, all the while driving the economy to new highs, and making a huge impact in combating the damage to the environment caused by cross-dimensional travel.

It was the Golden Age of Britain.

But it wasn’t perfect. Many people had still slipped through the cracks, and without Harriet Jones’ leadership in the years following her retirement, conditions worsened again, and people without proper means of support found themselves forced to live in the sector of the city that had once been behind the barricades. It was the only place they could hope to find a home they could afford. Many couldn’t afford even that, and subsisted however and wherever they could.

Enough of the history lesson, though. The point is there are many thousands of people in the London area who are living in poverty, and it is far too easy to turn a blind eye to things you don’t want to believe.

Fortunately, my little Charlie, nine years old, refuses to turn a blind eye. I think I’ve mentioned before that she’s my little activist. She’s the shit-disturber. If she has latched onto the idea that she wants something to get done, don’t stand in her road, because she’s coming through. This Christmas season, with the very enthusiastic aid of her brother and sister, she disturbed a whole lot of shit, and made a difference in the lives of an awful lot of people.

This story starts about three months back. Charlie wasn’t feeling very well, and we kept her back from school. But the Doctor decided to take her in to work with him for a quiet day of tinkering on some new gadgets from Torchwood’s as yet unsorted collection of alien artifacts. I was going to concentrate on my course work from home.

It was a warm autumn day, and Charlie claimed she was feeling (miraculously!) quite a bit better, so the Doctor took her to have lunch on the benches along the pavement by the river. I had sent her packed lunch for school with her. She was not at all happy. Apparently, she hated chicken salad sandwiches (news to me: they were her favourites the week prior.) She flew into a tantrum and made to throw her sandwich away. Clearly she still wasn’t feeling quite like herself, because as fierce as she is, she would normally never lose control of her temper like that.

The Doctor told me he’d been shouting at her to stop (not his most brilliant parenting moment, he admitted), and she was determinedly poised to throw the sandwich in the rubbish bin, when a small, stammering voice spoke up from behind the next bench: “Please… may I have it? That is, if you really don’t want it.”

Charlie had gone silent and just stared at the ragged little soul who belonged to the voice: a boy, dressed in filthy, tattered clothes, around Hope’s age, according to the Doctor. Wide-eyed, she’d passed him the sandwich, and introduced herself and her dad, and invited the lad to sit with them. Over the course of the following forty-five minutes, Hope had dragged his name out of him (Therin Thomson), given him her water (which he gulped down), and her apple (which he tucked into one of his grimy pockets for later.)

The Doctor had jogged away down the boardwalk to get the children 99s, and by the time he returned, Charlie was letting Therin have a go at flying one of her little drones. She’s always creating brilliant little gadgets from bits and bobs, and her favourites are the remote control drones. There’s always one tucked in her pocket, ready to play with. They were laughing their hearts out and chatting away like they’d been friends forever, as the drone swooped out over the Thames.

The Doctor had returned to work, and left them to play, but Charlie had come up to the lab about an hour later saying Therin had had to go, but she’d given him the drone. On the way home she peppered the Doctor with questions and comments: Do you think I’ll ever see him again? I wish we could have bought him supper. Where do you think he lives? Why is he so hungry and dressed in those awful clothes?

The following day, sometime after lunch, I got a call from her school to tell us she hadn’t been present when the teacher had called the register, and couldn’t be located on school grounds. They even admitted that she may not have been in class for some time. The students had been doing group work away from their desks so her presence and/or absence had been overlooked in the chaotic classroom.

Now, when I was young, I was notorious for skiving off, especially in secondary school (there’s a long story about me, my mate Shareen, and a school trip to France... But that’s another story for another time.) Now, secondary school is one thing, but it’s really difficult to get away with skiving off in Primary, as the teachers at that level are vigilant about the safety of the children. Needless to say, I was harbouring a rather grudging admiration for Charlie in that moment, even as I was fighting down the sheer panic. She wasn’t even nine years old yet, and here she was lost in the world, but it appeared she had done it with style!

The Doctor had called me before I’d even had a chance to dial his number. He’d sensed my emotional state, even though we were separated by quite a distance. I must have been broadcasting rather intensely through our bond. He said he would be home straight away. Meanwhile, Hope (who had been working on her Uni coursework in her room) checked the TARDIS and I started a search around the neighborhood on foot.

It was only five minutes later when the Doctor called me back. He’d found her. He’d been pacing in front of the lift doors, impatiently waiting for them to reach his floor when he’d glanced out the window. It overlooked the spot where he, Charlie, and Therin had had lunch the previous day. He’d looked down at the benches, and sure enough, there she was, sitting with her friend, playing with another couple of her drones.

Santa, I can’t begin to describe the relief I felt. Honestly, as much as I wanted to wring her neck, I really just wanted to see her face and hold her close to my heart. The Doctor had bypassed the hugging, and gone straight to the neck-wringing (well not actual neck-wringing, but you get the picture. He was furious!) Of course Charlie had stood up to him, tough little customer that she is, and Therin had run off, no doubt terrified of being caught in the middle of not one but two Oncoming Storms. The Doctor had eventually managed to stuff Charlie in the back of the car and haul her home.

When she got here, she wasn’t in any mood for being held “close to my heart”, but she did flop down on the sofa at my insistence. I perched on the coffee table in front of her, while the Doctor paced angrily, back and forth, in front of the fireplace. I began by asking her if she wanted to tell us what had happened.

But does she answer? Nope! Not her. Instead, she narrows her eyes, and shoots daggers at her pacing father, and says, “Does he really have to do that?”

I’m opening my mouth to explain that it helped him to think, when I’m cut off by what I can best describe as an explosion of anger from the Doctor. It flared across our bond, and I all I could do was watch as he lunged at Charlie, eyes blazing, and a lot of accusations about thoughtlessness, stupidity, and a few others flying from his mouth. I’ve rarely ever seen him so angry and frightened.

Charlie looked really shocked and a bit scared for just for a second, but then her face hardened again. She had the nerve to just stare him down and wait for his tirade to finish. Then she says: “Well, I guess we’re done here,” and gets up and walks toward the stairs.

Well, the Doctor flew completely off the trolley, and I did all I could over our bond to soothe him, but I was keeping one eye firmly on Charlie. I could feel my grudging admiration for her surfacing again, but I couldn’t let her leave on her own terms like that. I knew from personal experience the rift that can cause. When I left school (and home) to live with Jimmy Stone, my mum had been livid, and the row we had was monumental, but in the end she had just thrown her arms in the air and let me leave. At the time, I felt like I’d won the battle, but it was months before we even saw each other again, and then only because I realized I had actually won nothing and lost so much. Fortunately I was able to swallow my pride and admit I’d been wrong, that I needed her. But it could have gone so differently. I was sixteen at the time, and was able to rationalize and make a mature decision. Charlie is still so young. She needs us to make sure her boundaries are firmly set until she’s old enough to set her own... responsibly. And right now she couldn’t let her walk away.

Over our bond, I shouted at the Doctor to stop. He was absolutely seething, but he backed off. I called Charlie back, and she ignored me. “Now!” (Loud, firm, but not shouting. I had this.) “You have until I get to three.” And then I started counting. (I don’t know why counting works, but in ninety-nine percent of cases it does… mysterious but effective.) It worked this time, although Charlie waited a few seconds after I got to three before she sat herself back on the sofa. (Fine, I’d let her take that little bit of control if it made her feel better.)

She still refused to speak to us about her panic-inducing excursion, and I eventually told her she was grounded until further notice. She would stay in her room. She could read or study, but she was not to tinker or play or watch telly. The Doctor agreed to keep an eye on the websites she visited when she was studying online. She would eat with the family, and go to school where she would be watched like a hawk. Lunches and breaks would be spent at the school office. And above all, I let her know me and her dad were always there to talk to when she was ready.

It took a few days, and we didn’t push her, just kept reminding her we were there to listen, but she eventually opened up. Me and the Doctor were watching telly, and suddenly there was Charlie, scrambling over the back of the sofa to plop down between us. We all just snuggled for a few minutes, the two of us pressing kisses to the top of her head.

“Sorry I scared you…”

The Doctor apologized too for reacting the way he did and for saying the things he had.

“I know, Daddy. You told me two days ago!”

“Weeeell, it bears repeating.” He was tugging on his ear and I received his mental eye roll over our bond.

We share another special parental telepathic bond with our children, that we only ever open when both parties consent. It is activated through touch, and by mutual agreement, the Doctor and I each took one of Charlie’s hands, offering to share our thoughts with her. She bit her lip and nodded, squeezing each of our hands in return. We spent an hour or so sharing our love for one another, and Charlie finally told us what had happened.

She had been really worried about her new friend, Therin. He was homeless. His father had abandoned him and his mum when he was still a baby. He had grown up on the Powell Estate, of all places, but in this universe, it was little more than a high-rise slum. It jarred me to hear that. The Prime Universe’s version of the Estates hadn’t exactly been luxury accommodations, far from it, but they had kept us warm and dry, and there was a sense of community among the tenants. We struggled to make ends meet sometimes, but we got by. I knew Peckham, in this version of London, was one of the poorest parts of town, a part that had previously been deep behind the blockades, but I hadn’t realized conditions there had been so dire.

Therin’s mum had died a few years back. The flu, he thought. She had never received any medical attention. Since that time, Therin had been on his own. He begged for food. Being young, he mostly did pretty well for himself. People were more apt to be kind to a cute kid. He’d never gone to school that Charlie knew of. But his mum had taught him to read and write and do some basic math. And she’d taught him to play the guitar. Music was his passion, but his guitar had been stolen last year by some thugs, and he hasn't played since.

The three of us sat there on the sofa sobbing. “I just wanted to be his friend, and give him some food so he didn’t have to beg,” Charlie explained. “So I borrowed your Oyster card, Mum, and took the bus into town, and then the tube to the Torchwood stop.”

Both me and the Doctor heaved a sigh, a quiet plea that we find the patience to deal with our middle child. It was difficult to keep our cool and not reprimand her again for her rash actions. But given the circumstances, we knew we would have done the same thing in her shoes. She was our daughter; there was no doubt about it.

Our curiosity was piqued, though, and we spent the rest of the day researching the history of the areas that had been segregated behind the army blockades. Hope joined us, and Wilfred when he came in from football practice. Apparently while Harriet Jones had been in office, the previously blockaded districts had been listed for redevelopment and refurbishment, to be conducted one area at a time. New housing was planned and built, new communities created complete with businesses and schools. Training programs were set up to prepare residents to live independently in the state-provided homes. There were medical and dental clinics, shops and restaurants, salons and garages, banks and police stations. Big businesses were given incentives to move into the area to provide employment. Vitex, Pete’s company, it turned out was one of those businesses, having built a warehouse in one community, and a production plant in another. It was a monumental undertaking, unlike anything ever seen before.

But when Harriet Jones retired, most of the outstanding redevelopments had been put on hold or cancelled outright. The communities that had been converted were thriving as well as any other London community. But the ones that had been shifted to the back-burner, including Peckham, had only worsened over time. Now, they were, simply put, slums: third-world living conditions right smack in the heart of London.

“But why would they stop?” Wilfred asked about the government pulling funding from the project.

The Doctor explained how it all came down to money in the end, and the lack of will to make sure everything happened properly. Harriet Jones had been someone who was very good at making things happen; she was good at motivating people and making sure people stayed on task. She was also very clever about ensuring that, in the end, all of the redevelopment was profitable. She ensured no one took advantage and was an enthusiastic fundraiser. And she made sure she knew everyone and everyone knew who she was; that helped keep everyone accountable.

I explained that the worst part of it was that the government must be fully aware of the conditions in the un-redeveloped areas and were not only turning a blind eye, but also sweeping it under the rug.

We decided a visit to Peckham was warranted. We would take the TARDIS.

When we stepped out onto the courtyard at the Powell Estate, I nearly broke down in tears. The Doctor held me in his arms for a full five minutes before I could bear to look around again. It looked like a war zone. Not only were most of the flats completely exposed to the elements with missing doors and windows, but the buildings themselves looked structurally unsound. There were no safe dwellings. Any residents living there should be considered homeless, as far as I could tell.

We began to attract some attention. Hungry, poverty-stricken souls, peering out from behind crumbling walls; the more aggressive gangs challenged us, but one look from the Oncoming Storm sent them scattering. We had come prepared with loads of food, and spent much of the afternoon handing it out to the ragtag families and individuals who approached us once the gangs had backed down.

My heart leaped into my throat at one point when I saw Charlie speaking to one of the gang members, a heap of sandwiches in her arms. “You know,” she pointed out to the one who was clearly the leader (he was certainly the most dangerous looking), “if you would help people instead of threatening them, everyone would be happier, even you.” She glared up at him, challenging him. If her arms hadn’t been full of sandwiches she probably would have poked him in the chest, even though he towered over her. I could see him softening around the edges, just a little at the sight of the feisty little girl in front of him.

“So are you going to give me those sandwiches, or not?” he growled at her.

She stood up to him. My God, Santa! She was so impressive. She told him he and his friends would have to earn those sandwiches. She told him she figured he knew where everyone lived, and enlisted him to make sure all of the elderly residents had something to eat. She handed him all the sandwiches, telling him there were more and that he could have one when his job was done. She handed a bundle of them to each of the other gang members, shooing them off to do their jobs.

“If you help people,” she called after them, “and treat others with respect, you can get things done, because everyone is working toward a common goal.”

I couldn’t hold back a chuckle at my little force of nature, but I admit I spent the bulk of the day trying to hold back the tears.

Charlie came to my side and took my hand. “Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it all better. Promise.”

--ooOoo--

Today, three months later, she is well on her way to making good on that promise.

We took her out of school, permanently, nearly two years earlier than planned. There are many other ways to get an education and to learn about the world, than from behind the walls of a classroom. We took Wilfred out too, it was only fair. And Charlie took full advantage of every moment she was given to work on her project, and her brother and sister were right there to help her out in any way they could.  

She spoke to many people, starting with her Grandad, who had a great deal of pull with a lot of people in important positions, and a ton of knowledge about managing a big organization. She spoke to her Gran about her charity, the Big Yellow Truck. She spoke to Harriet Jones, who had retired to her home in her original constituency, Flydale North, and while she knew her redevelopment scheme had been essentially scuppered, she had been unaware that the people living in the underprivileged areas had been reduced to such a deplorable state. She hopped back on board in an instant, coming out of retirement to work with Charlie (and not asking for a cent in return) and speaking with her at length about the whos, whys, and wherefors of what would be involved in kick-starting her endeavour. With Harriet’s help, Charlie developed a long-term plan and spoke with many government officials, working hard to get their support. It was tough on that little girl, and there were more setbacks than there were payoffs, but I have to give her credit where credit is due, she never talked about throwing in the towel, not once.

The first step of her plan was to start her own charitable organization, but by law, she was far too young for such a venture. So me and the Doctor stepped up and became co-founders and chairs of Hand in Hand, although our titles were in name only. We knew who was really in charge: Charlotte Tyler-Noble.

She planned to start small, organizing events to bring knowledge of the plight of the homeless people of London to the rest of the world. Her first event was a Festive Feast on Christmas day. Her vision was to bring together the people and businesses of London to provide food and fun for all the underprivileged souls in the slums of Peckham and the other areas awaiting redevelopment. She needed to hire event managers, accountants, and lot of other people, but Harriet Jones was more than happy to help out with that.

Charlie also enlisted her Grandad to speak on her behalf to big business owners to donate what they could to the event. Vitex was, of course, the leading sponsor of the event. Large grocery chains offered to supply literally tons of food in exchange for advertising. She and her siblings pounded the pavement, knocking on doors and talking with restaurant owners, convincing them to donate their time and resources to prepare a Christmas dinner, the scale of which had never before been seen. A kitchen supply company donated huge industrial ovens to be set up in a disused warehouse we had sourced as the location for the event.

And she got a lot of press. The granddaughter of the Vitex President taking on a project of this scale was big news, very big news, and she used it to her advantage, getting her message out to world. Unfortunately, it also meant the paparazzi were out in their droves. I don’t think we’d ever been subjected to such intense scrutiny before. It was a huge challenge just trying to go about our daily business. We were fortunate our little blue house was quite remote, but I admit, we used the TARDIS to get around rather a lot, and she was very clever at disguising herself, having a perfectly functioning Chameleon Circuit.

The press had a field day when several big name recording artists offered to attend the event. There was no venue where they could put on a concert, but they offered to busk, singing popular songs and Christmas music throughout the day.

Everything has come together beautifully and Charlie’s been over the moon for the last few days, so excited she’s been unable to sleep or eat. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

Oh my god, Santa, I don’t think I told you what happened with Therin Thomson. I just got so carried away telling you about Hand in Hand and Charlie’s Festive Feast, I completely forgot. Not that he’s forgettable. He’s been there with Charlie every step of the way. Therin showed up to see us that day we first went to visit Peckham, and (with the gang members) helped get sandwiches to all the people who were unable come to us. But when we were making to leave at the end of the afternoon, and I saw him hugging Charlie, I couldn’t just leave him behind in that destitute place.

“You can’t save them all, Rose,” the Doctor warned me.

“No, but I can save this one,” I told him. “We can work on the others later.”

So Therin came home with us for a few nights, but our house is small, and we are always taking off and travelling in the TARDIS on educational expeditions, and as much as we loved the young man, we didn’t feel we were able to give him the stability he needed at this point in his life.

Enter Jackie and Pete Tyler, empty-nesters with a whole lot of love to offer. Mum took him under her wing, and she and Dad happily became his legal guardians.

Mum allowed him to remain out of school until after the winter break so he could help Charlie with Hand in Hand. Earlier today, he was listening to Charlie’s rehearsal of her big speech. She is opening the event tomorrow in front of hundreds of reporters and cameras.

I was walking by her room just as she was practising, and I admit, I did a little eavesdropping. When I came by she was talking about how she learned from her mum and dad “…that the thing you need most to get across the universe is a hand to hold. And I challenge everyone to extend their hands to help bring hope to those in need. If everyone lends a hand, and works together, we can change the world…”

The Doctor slipped up behind me, kissing me behind the ear and accused me of spying on our daughter. I just told him how proud I was of her, of everything she’d accomplished; how strong and compassionate and determined she was, never letting anything stand in her way.

The Doctor just laughed. “Remind you of anyone, love?” he asked. “You realize, of course, she gets all of that from you.”

Santa, I have never received a lovelier compliment in my life.

A very happy Christmas to you and Mrs. Claus, and the elves and reindeer, too. I hope you have a hand to hold to help you get safely around the world tonight.

love, Rose