Title: The Girl Who Falls Down Stairs

Summary: He really had no intention of picking up a new companion. It was just supposed to be a quick jaunt for the best chips in the universe, London 2010. But he wasn't counting on meeting the girl who fell down stairs and piqued his curiosity.

Pairings: Implications of Doctor/Rose, inevitably. It's clear they love each other; it's the nature of the love that I'm interested in.

Category: General

Spoilers: Up until Doomsday, I suppose.

Author's Notes: Alright, almost everyone has a post-Doomsday fic, and most are better than this. But I heard this song, and what else could I do? Honestly, the story was like Athena; sprung full grown from my forehead. I contemplated the possibility of an alternate Doctor, though we know it's not possible according to the show. Though apparently I may have hallucinated that scene.

My rather arbitrary goal for this story? A minimum of five reviews that have some sort of constructive criticism. Make a girl's day and review. Please. I hate the begging business, but feedback is so important to improvement.

UPDATED: I forgot to thank my wonderful beta, who did wonders for the longest thing I've written in almost two years. Thank you. And I thought I'd mention a possible sequel, to see if there's interest.

The title and inspiration for this story comes from (surprise, surprise) a Tom McRae song. He's either brilliant or I'm mad; though it is admittedly most likely the latter.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. It really is best this way, believe me.

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He really had no intention of picking up a new companion. It was just supposed to be a quick jaunt for the best chips in the universe, London 2010. It was a tiny little shop, barely a blip on anyone's radar. But the chips... Oh, the chips.

He stepped out of the TARDIS into the cool London evening, taking a deep breath. The air was fresh, or at least as fresh as London air ever was. He had a fondness for this city he never quite understood; it had become almost homelike. If he dare think so. This time was a favourite as well; settled somewhere between corrupted Torchwood and Out-To-Kill-Him Torchwood. For the most part. Well, what was home without a little danger?

Shaking his head and wondering what had inspired this nostalgia, he set off for the shop a street away. He heard the distinctive thuds of two people running, and turned instinctively. A blonde woman and dark haired man rounded the corner after him.

"Doctor!" the woman cried out, slowing down as she reached him.

She was a stranger to him, but before he could ask her if she knew him, she shook her head.

"It's not you."

"Whatcha mean?" the man said. "Course it's him. That's his suit, even. And we heard the TARDIS, clear as day."

"No," she said, sounded assured. She moved a step closer, peering at the Doctor's face. "That's his face, but there's something about his eyes. They're all wrong, even though they're right. You know? They're strange."

She actually looked at the Doctor then, instead of scrutinizing the minor details.

"I'm Rose, and that's Mickey," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her companion. "What did you do to the Doctor?"

"I am the Doctor."

She shook her head.

"Nuh-uh. He's on the other side of the Void. He told me there's no way back, that I'd never see him again," her voice had gone funny on the last bit, sort of high and unsteady. She paused, taking a deep breath and giving him something that he supposed was a smile, but seemed to be a grimace.. "But here you are, and you sure look like him. You sound like him and all. At least your voice does."

She shrugged.

"But if you're not him, who are you?"

"The Doctor."

"Doctor's in another universe."

Her blunt tone left no room for argument. He held up his hands in defeat.

"I don't know what you're on about, but we have to sort this out. Can't have people telling me I'm not who I am. Wouldn't be good for my reputation," he gave her his best grin, the same one that had got him out of more scrapes then the average person would imagine.

She just crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"You better not have hurt him."

"I didn't hurt anyone," he replied, managing to sound sincere. Which wasn't strictly true, but lying was always your best defense in these types of situations.

She seemed to accept this, and tilted her head to regard him carefully.

"Well, if you aren't my Doctor and he couldn't get through the Void, who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. And I've never passed through any Void."

"Never?"

"Swear on the blood of Rassilon."

This seemed to appease her, though he wasn't sure why.

"So you're from this universe?"

"Yes."

"Oh," she seemed flustered. "He said there wasn't another him."

"I doubt it was the first time he was wrong."

She laughed, and the Doctor was surprised to see that she was... attractive, he supposed. Though maybe familiar was the word he was thinking of. Either way, it was a good laugh.

"You aren't from around here,then?" he ventured.

The girl- Rose, wasn't it?- shook her head.

"Nope. Had a nasty case of Cybermen v. Daleks, and I got stuck in the middle."

"Tell me about it over chips," he said. The offer was out of his mouth so fast, he wondered if his brain had received the memo.

She grinned.

"Not those nasty ones from Inigo's," she replied, scrunching her nose.

"They're gorgeous!" he countered.

"'Course they are. That's why I ended up sick all-" she stopped suddenly, blushing.

Oh, he was definitely getting that story from her.

"Hey, Mickey?" Rose said. "Could you...?"

"Yeah."

The man moved off without another word. The Doctor watched him go, still leery of the situation. The man was an obvious leader, and quite possibly dangerous. But he forgot about it, just for a moment, when Rose smiled at him and reached for his arm. There was a familiarity in her touch, an odd feeling coming from a complete stranger.

"Do you take all your first dates for chips?" she asked cheekily, linking arms with him. "Let's go then."

-:-:-

Inigo's was one flight up from the ground floor, directly above a tailor's. The stairwell up to it was almost as narrow and dark as the shop itself; just one more deterrent for most people. For the Doctor, however, it was part of the charm.

Rose grabbed a corner booth while he went to order the chips. They were alone save the proprietor, but he was all too aware of the danger in being overheard and was thankful for her discretion.

When he made his way to the table, she grinned.

"Now I know you're not my Doctor. You paid."

"Good to know. It's a one-time offer though."

He wasn't sure if he said it to make her laugh or to make her withdraw. He wasn't on as even a keel as he would like around her; her familiarity was frightening. She studied his face carefully, analysing the features he could only assume were familiar. He found himself wondering what the other him had been like, if they were enough alike to justify her instantaneous attachment. And there was a small part hoping they were.

"So, tell me a story. Spin me a tale. Write me a novel, if you will," he said, taking the salt she offered out of what seemed to be habit.

She was a fantastic storyteller. He ate his chips (and most of hers) while she related her experiences with her Doctor. Doctors, to be more precise. She used wit and humour to make her point, but wasn't afraid to address the darker aspects of her life. She was honest and engaging, clear in her likes and dislikes. But even after all her travels (tiny to him, but huge for her), there was a hint of innocence. Like she still believed that the universe was mostly good. The sort of person he could imagine travelling with.

But there was a hidden undercurrent to her story. He could read it in the eyes that studied him so intently. It wasn't just that she had clearly loved her Doctor; it was that she was offering to love him. Daring him to let her.

There was a certain level of temptation in her offer.

"So you ended up here," he said finally.

"Yeah. Not too bad. Got me mum, and my alternate dad. Got Torchwood..."

"Torchwood?" the Doctor asked, remembering the man with her. That would explain a lot.

And he had almost believed her; she should have been an actress. Maybe she was.

"Uh-huh. Rose Tyler, defender of the earth. That's me," she smiled wistfully. "Still give it all up if I could. Go back, I mean."

"I'm sure," he replied, lost in his thoughts.

They'd been here long enough that Torchwood could have the building surrounded. But there really was no other way out, and it was just possible he could talk his way out of it. He didn't have much of a choice, to be honest.

"Torchwood?" he repeated, careful to keep his voice calm.

"Yeah," she said slowly, puzzled by his change of topic. She'd moved on to how odd even the most familiar of landmarks was in this universe. Admittedly, it wasn't his smoothest move.

He wasn't sure why he had believed the story. There had never been a more subtle lulling of his suspicions; it wasn't in her words so much as in her body language. But he had been fooled nevertheless; perhaps he was becoming complacent in his old age. Or, though he was loathe to admit it, she had offered something he needed. Correction, wanted. He certainly didn't need anything.

"Doctor?"

"It was a good story," he told her harshly, watching as she visibly recoiled from the venom in his words.

"'S the truth," she replied, suddenly less assured than before. "Wouldn't lie, not to you. Even this you."

"Even if he existed-which I doubt- I am not him."

Oh, but he had wanted to be. Just a little. To somehow become her Doctor, who saved the world and brought her back in time for tea. Or who would often skip tea in favour of another adventure. There seemed to be an affinity between her travels and trouble. And there was no doubt she loved it.

But, he reminded himself, those travels had never happened. It was a Torchwood ploy to capture him.

He slid out of the booth, fixing his trench coat as he hurried out of the room. He'd start to believe her if he stayed any longer; the power of wishful thinking finally applying to him. Emotion had tainted his perception, had lowered his guard. It had to be London; he doubted it would have happened in New York. She isn't in New York, a traitorous voice pointed out. Which, while true, wasn't the point. He was leaving. Halfway down the stairs, he heard her voice.

"Doctor!" she called out, chasing after him.

He turned as she tripped. He reached out to stop her fall, pulling her against his body. She was flush against him and breathing heavily. Her hand was tightly clasped in his, and she squeezed it before murmuring a breathless "thanks".

When she stepped away, she still held it firmly.

"'S funny," she said, avoiding his eyes and staring intently at their intertwined hands. "The hands are still the same. They still fit."

In the dim light of the stairwell, he couldn't be sure that the glimmer in her eyes wasn't just the lighting. Or so he told himself.

The truth was, he believed her. It was probably foolish, and it was most definitely dangerous. But there it was.

"Did your Doctor ever tell you about memory walking?" he asked.

Maybe if he looked through her memories, he'd find an explanation. A reason to trust her, or not.

"He mentioned it once. I asked him to try it on me, but he said he didn't need to. Nothing of interest in my mind, I guess."

Her tone was a little bitter. So it hadn't always been sunshine and roses. Or, more accurately, minor scrapes and good times. That was alright. He could handle living up to that. And he knew that it hadn't been a boring mind that had stopped the other Doctor's refusal to look into her mind; it was about complete trust in Rose Tyler. That Doctor hadn't needed to see her mind. And neither did he.

"Come with me."

"You didn't think you were going alone?" she asked, smiling.

-:-:-

Mickey met them at the corner, a backpack in hand. The Doctor stayed a few feet away, watching the exchange with interest. Rose's honesty had only extended so far in her storytelling, and it was clear that there was more to this Mickey than she wanted him to know.

"Thanks," Rose said, taking it from him and throwing it over her own shoulder. "Tell mum for me, wouldja?"

Mickey smiled sadly.

"Should have known you'd never stay."

Rose gave his hand a squeeze.

"Torchwood was enough for you. Not for me. I have to see it all, Mickey. I can't... I can't bring the stars to me. It's not right."

"I know," he conceded, and smiled. "Jackie's gonna kill me."

"Just make sure you duck," laughed Rose.

She kissed Mickey, then patted his cheek affectionately.

"Keep an eye on her for me, will ya? She's got dad now, but she'll worry. Can't help it."

"Yeah," Mickey agreed. They embraced, then pulled apart.

"Take care of yourself too," Rose said. "Promise?"

"I'm not the one chasing through the whole of time and space to save the universe."

Rose laughed again.

"True, but you haven't got the Doctor."

Mickey opened his mouth as if to question her assertion , but shrugged instead.

"Goodbye, Mickey."

"Have fun," Mickey replied. It was a hollow sentiment, but it was clear to the Doctor that nothing else would have done. "You keep her safe, Doctor."

The Doctor nodded solemnly. Somehow, he suspected that he was only the latest in a long line of people charged with her care. And there were few people who needed it less. But still, a promise was a promise and a duty was a duty. The safety of Rose Tyler now lay in his hands.

Mickey left then, and Rose turned to the Doctor.

"So... The TARDIS?" she ventured.

"The TARDIS. Just around the corner."

"Think my key will work?" she asked the Doctor as they walked, pulling out a souvenir key chain from the planet Lohitney.

"Try it," he replied, motioning to the machine.

Rose smiled as the key clicked softly in place.

"Well, she still looks the same," Rose commented, entering the ship. She breathed deeply. "Smells the same too."

The Doctor observed how quickly she appeared at ease in these surroundings. She set her backpack against the wall of the TARDIS, then stepped to the centre of the room.

"So, where we going first?" she asked. There was no denying the excitement in her voice.

The Doctor strolled over to the console, flicking a few switches.

"Wherever you want," he replied.

"You know, you promised me Barcelona. Never managed to get there though."

"Ah, dogs with no noses. Sounds like a good place to start," he grinned at her, setting their course.

"Think we can pick up someone named Alonzo along the way?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Allons-y, Alonzo! Sounds much better than 'Here we go again'."

"I like that one."

She gave him the grin that he was already a little too fond of.

"I knew you would."

-:FINI:-