Beta: Miral-Romanov.

Epilogue

Exoneration

Rose's heels clicked on the white tile floors, punctuating the quiet fidgeting of the guards and the occasional angry screech from patients farther down the hall. She walked past the guards, nodding politely at each of them in turn before heading towards a sleek white desk fixed with a Plexiglas window, behind which a blue female with green spots and slicked back antennae.

"Hello Rose," she said upon spotting the blonde, immediately pulling up a sheet of paper she'd set aside and pushing it and a pen under the arch cut into the glass.

"Hello Tyrande," Rose said, signing her name with ease on the bottom of the paper. "Himself ready?"

"Ready and set up in Containment Hold Thirteen," Tyrande said, wrinkling her blue nose. "You're a miracle worker, Rose. How d'you manage to talk to him for two seconds, let alone for fifteen minutes every two weeks?"

"Very patiently," Rose grinned, tongue at the corner of her mouth.

She set the pen down and pushed the sign document back towards Tyrande before setting off down the hall with another guard accompanying her closely. Rose turned the corner down another hall, this one lined with identical-looking doors save for their designations stamped across them in bold black letters. Upon reaching the thirteenth door, the guard patted her down to make sure she wasn't hiding anything and pulled out a large ring with hundreds of keys on it; he took barely a second to select the right key and swipe it over the lock before opening it for her.

Rose handed him her bag and stepped into the room alone, the guard clicking the door shut behind her. The cell was plain, white and separated into two halves by a long table stretching from end to end and a large, clear force field. Beratt sat on the opposite end of the table, half asleep and leaning heavily on his hand while his other hand idly poked at the force field, which lit up underneath his fingers.

When he glanced up, boredom in his eyes, he sat up straight as a pin, beaming at her brightly enough to light up the room. "Miss Tyler!"

"Hello," she greeted him, sitting down in the plastic chair directly in front of him. "Sorry'm late— the Doctor tried stalling me again and then landed on the wrong end of the station."

His baby cheeks dimpled with a grin. "Where'd you end up?"

Rose grimaced. "Health and body care. There wasn't a single nurse in there that didn't try offering me some kind of body oil. Smelled awful." Beratt giggled gleefully. "What did you do this week?" His smile faded, and his eyes darted guiltily into his lap. Rose narrowed her eyes and said warningly, "What did you do this time?"

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"You know I can just ask Tyrande at the front desk if you've been doing bad things," Rose reminded him.

He fidgeted for a moment in his seat. "I don't like arts and crafts," he confided grumpily. "It's stupid. Everyone in here is stupid. The nurses gave everyone ammonium nitrate-based paints and didn't believe me when I said it was explosive and shouldn't be left next to the hotplates. So I blew it up! It painted all of them blue."

He looked almost proud of himself, up until Rose shot him an exasperated glance. "We talked about this."

"I know," he mumbled, staring at his knees, before adding in earnest, "I did say I was sorry afterwards!"

"Were you?"

"No," Beratt said bluntly. "But I still said it. Doesn't that count for something?"

"I suppose," Rose sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Just try not to blow anything up next time, all right?"

"Okay," he chirped, pleased now that the subject was dropped. He hesitated before asking, "How are you and the Doctor?"

She smiled at him, properly this time. "Brilliant. The Doctor took Clara, Danny and I to Akrenvale for a holiday that turned into an uprising."

"Are they married yet?" Beratt asked.

"Not yet— they keep changing the date. Reckon it'll be next March."

"And what about you?" Beratt said. "How are things with you?"

"Fine," Rose said vaguely. When Beratt raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her deliberate ambiguity, she admitted with reluctance, hand drifting towards her stomach, "We're expecting."

"Are you?" He let out a delighted, borderline disturbing giggle, clapping his hands and bouncing in his seat. "How absolutely wonderful! Congratulations, Miss Tyler!"

"Thanks," she said, granting him a half-smile.

"How did you discover it?"

"Well, knew something was odd when I kept throwing up my breakfast," Rose muttered, and he made a face. "The Doctor's been actin' half mad since we found out. Barely lets me walk by myself without him holdin' my hand, like he thinks I'm made of sugar."

"Was he happy?"

"He is now," Rose shrugged, giving her stomach another pat. "Wasn't sure at first, 'cos he turned white as a sheet, started shouting in Gallifreyan at the ultrasound and tripped over himself about a hundred times."

"How lovely," he giggled again, before looking tentatively hopeful. "Do you think he'll maybe come visit?"

Rose hesitated, wondering how to phrase her words. "I don't think that'll be anytime soon."

He slumped in his seat like he was trying to melt into himself, looking like the world had just crashed around him. "He'll never forgive me, will he?"

"I dunno," Rose admitted. She didn't voice that she was doubtful, since Beratt was never a topic to be mentioned in the TARDIS unless it was to ask him to pilot the TARDIS to Miton's maximum-security mental health ward— and she'd had to fight tooth and nail and refuse to speak to him for a week for him to agree the first time.

"Do you forgive me?"

"I do," Rose said, and a delighted smile nearly cracked his face in half. "'Cos of you I'm happy again, even if you—"

"Even if I went about it the wrong way," he chimed in, reciting her words from memory.

"Right," she said. "Just give the Doctor some time."

"It's been a whole five years!" Beratt scowled, picking at a nonexistent spot on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

"This version of the Doctor isn't exactly the friendliest of sorts," reminded Rose, and Beratt smiled reluctantly.

"No, I suppose not."

The door suddenly opened behind them and the guard stepped in halfway, eyeing Beratt warily. "Miss Tyler? Your Doctor bloke's here to pick you up in his box."

Rose ignored Beratt's whiny, "Aw!" and nodded, saying, "Thank you." Turning back to Beratt, who wasn't trying to hide his pout even a little, Rose stood up from her chair and said, "See you next month, yeah?"

"Okay," he said grudgingly, poking at the force field again.

"Behave," she reminded him firmly, and he nodded with a glower at the table before Rose properly stepped outside.

The Doctor was waiting for her at the end of the hall, the TARDIS sitting in wait next to him. He brightened the moment he spotted her after the guard gave her bag back, claiming her hand the moment she was in reach. "Had to drop Clara off at her place for a family emergency," he told her, ushering her into the TARDIS as though expecting somebody to attack them from behind at any moment.

"Is everything all right?" Rose frowned, setting down her bag on the jump seat as the Doctor piloted them into the Vortex.

"Yes, yes, just some nonsense about her daughter getting teased at preschool," the Doctor said, striding away from the console so he could drag her into his arms and plant a couple of kisses on her shoulder. He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a hospital."

Rose rolled her eyes, swatting his arm. "I just came back from a mental health facility." He grumbled out an incoherent response against her skin, and she huffed out exasperatedly. "Y'know, you could at least say his name."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor sniffed, but he didn't let go.

"I'm talkin' about Beratt," Rose said, emphasising his name deliberately. "He asked about you again today. Wants to know when you'll be coming to visit him."

"Tell him when Daleks become universal ambassadors promoting peace," the Doctor said grumpily, and Rose chuckled before schooling her expression back to seriousness.

"I mean it."

"So do I."

"He's not the evil mastermind you think he is," Rose told him, turning thoughtful. "He's… like a ten-year-old kid with entitlement issues. And an insanely high IQ," she added. "He feels awful for what he did— he really does."

"Only you would be able to make an evil genius feel ashamed of himself," the Doctor said endearingly.

"I reckon he's felt ashamed for long enough, yeah?" Rose slipped her hand downward and squeezed his bum, making him squeak in what was definitely not a girlish manner.

"I'll think about it," he mumbled, ignoring her smirk. Unravelling himself from her, he grabbed her hand and led her out of the console room. "Now, I reiterate that you smell like a hospital, so to the en suite with you."

"Suppose I could soak in the bath for an hour or six," Rose shrugged, following him.

The Doctor sent her a heated look. "Good, because that's how long I'm keeping you in there."

A/N: I have to confess, originally when I had the story planned out, Beratt was just going to get carted off into prison by the Shadow Proclamation, but because I love what his character has become so much I had to give him a relatively happy ending :) This turned into way more of a story than I ever thought it'd be; thanks SO much for sticking with me! And I've had a couple of good laughs from people misspelling Beratt's name in reviews :3 It's not Barett or Beret... I think somebody called him Bernard at one point XD Thanks go to Hediru, setsuna1415, alias093001, Bad Wolf Jen, DeepBlue-sama, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, MusicOwl29, emotionallycompromisedwhovian, hawkerin, WhovianMaiPotter, Kathryn Hart, moviemaniac217, Lost Time Traveler, DuShuZhi, avathetimelord, TheDoctorandRoseLover, Diosa Luna, The Doctor 1-12, Infinities Lover, Miral-Romanov, TardisBlueismynewfavoritecolor, IWantColoredRain, l and the EpicGuest.