The Doctor stood at the window. Beneath the steel grey sky, ice draped the trees in phantasmagoric shapes. The worst of the storm, however, had passed. Still, it would be another twelve hours until the roads could be cleared. For the moment, his entire world was inside this house.

He didn't mind one bit. He turned back to the room; it was impossible to keep his gaze away from his wife and child for long. Rose sat curled upon the couch nursing Elaina. A fire burned in the hearth, casting a warm glow over mother and child.

Rose remained a bit pale, but she'd come through the delivery well. He'd had his doubts at first. When he'd seen her crumpled in the hallway, pallid and shivering, fear had begun gnawing at him. When she'd told him that she was labor, it was all he could to stop himself from outright panic.

Falling back on science had been his only recourse. He'd needed to remain calm for Rose and the baby. He wondered now if some intangible echo through time and space had prompted him weeks ago to prepare for the event. He'd chided himself then that he was being fatalistic when he'd brought home the necessary supplies and secretly stashed them away. Then he'd reconsidered and decided that being fully prepared was the best way to stave off an emergency. None of that mattered now, of course; his reasons were merely conjecture. Suffice it to say, he was glad he'd given in to that urge and been prepared.

Even so, the speed with which Rose's labor progressed had frightened him. Most terrifying of all was the thought that, except for a small twist of fate, he might have reached her too late. Since the delivery two days ago, she'd been too preoccupied with the baby to notice the deep bruise on his sore shoulder. He'd fallen on the slick street midway between his office and the Atterburys' house, landing hard enough to damage his phone. He'd narrowly missed hitting his head on the thick layer of ice. Such a blow would easily have rendered him unconscious.

Even so, he'd been sufficiently shocked to lie there for a good two or three minutes before hauling himself up. By then he'd been thoroughly chilled, probably bordering on hypothermia. He'd trudged on to deliver the medication, but by the time he reached the house his extremities were numb. Maggie had taken one look at him and ordered him into the kitchen for hot tea and blankets.

He'd remained with the Atterburys for nearly an hour, stabilizing his core temperature and nursing his aching shoulder. He'd wasted precious time on himself… And Rose had paid the price. She'd had to endure the first stage of labor alone. She'd risked the freezing weather in an attempt to find help, knowing she could not deliver the baby by herself. He could barely stomach the thought of her crawling over the ice, wracked with pain yet determined to keep their child safe.

He'd worried about the effects of that experience on both Rose and the baby. She'd been so chilled when he got home, and her contractions were so close together; he'd been very frightened for his daughter's life, knowing that a still birth was a possibility.

It wasn't until he held his child's head in his hand that he felt the soft cadence of life pulsing through her. Still his own heart had not slowed its frantic rhythm until he'd heard the steady, strong thump beating in her tiny chest. She was small—five pounds, three ounces—but she was healthy and hungry and more alert than most babies.

Now, one tiny, perfect hand rested against Rose's breast. Elaina snuffled softly, drifting into contented sleep. Smiling gently, Rose shifted the little bundle in her arms then looked up.

"Wonder how long 'til she's hungry again?" she asked.

"Three hours and seventeen minutes, give or take," he replied. Naturally he'd begun calculating the mean time between feedings. He stoked the fire then sat down slowly, trying not to jostle the slumbering infant.

Rose rested her head on his shoulder. "Suppose I should call Mum again."

"She can wait. I told her you still need to rest. She understands."

She yawned. "Yeah. She's disappointed about the showers, though, an' about coming here straightaway."

When he'd called Jackie to tell her the news, she'd immediately stated that she'd be on the helicopter the moment the weather permitted it. This morning, however, she'd reported that Tony had a bad cold and it was possible that she was contagious, too. Reluctantly she'd agreed to wait a week to see her granddaughter. Rose and the Doctor still planned to spend Christmas in London, but they wouldn't arrive until Christmas Eve.

He was insistent on that point. Truth be told, he was hesitant for Elaina to travel while she was still so small, but with a few precautions and minimal contact with well-wishers once they arrived at the Tyler estate, he thought she'd be all right.

Although Rose was recovering well, she would still need extra rest and pampering. Fortunately Jackie would happily acquiesce to the latter. The former might take a bit more effort on his part.

For now, however, he had his wife and baby all to himself. He had one precious week to spend with his new family, and he planned to savor every moment of it. A part of him was still astonished at the depth of emotion he was capable of feeling. He had never experienced such intense fear or such brutal anxiety; he had never known such powerful love and absolute adulation.

The Doctor wished these for his daughter, too. He hoped that the human elements would be strongest in her, but he would not know that for some time. His DNA was only half human, and the Gallifreyan portion might prove prevalent. He would need to complete a few tests to confirm it, but he was fairly certain that her genetic make-up had already asserted itself in prompting her early birth.

However, Elaina had a very human mother who would teach her through both word and example to embrace those lovely, warm, silly, and sensitive parts of her being. And he would do his very best to impart his knowledge of humanity to her as well.

"Hey," Rose said softly, lifting her hand to caress his cheek. "What're you thinking about?"

He blinked then smiled down at Elaina. "Her. And you. And us." He bent to kiss his wife tenderly. "Thank you, Rose."

"I think you had a hand in it, too." She was referring to their daughter, of course.

"That's not what I meant," he replied almost timidly. "I mean, yes, thank you for her, of course."

"What'd you mean, then?" she asked gently.

"Thank you, Rose, for choosing me."

Her gazed moved to the sleeping infant then back up to meet his eyes. "You're welcome."

The fire crackled, flaring momentarily to bathe the room in warmth and light. Elaina stirred slightly then settled back to slumber, soothed by the quiet love radiating from her parents.

**

Fin