Jackie Tyler was a formidable woman. She'd survived the death of her husband, and had brought up a daughter all her own on the Powell Estate, and that daughter had gone on to save the world and the universe, several times.

When faced with the man who had taken her daughter away, she had slapped one of the most powerful beings in the universe and she'd do it again if it were called for, thanks much. No one hurt her daughter, not if she had anything to say about it.

So when she found herself travelling by Zeppelin back to London, one where she was not a poor hairdresser but a high ranking member of London society, she watched her daughter – home for good and safe, at last – who slept, curled in the arms of that daft alien she'd ripped through the universe to find, and Jackie made a plan to have words with this version of the Doctor.

Even if he had just saved the universe, he still needed a firm talking to. Dumping her Rose on some bloody blasted freezing beach in Norway. Again. Playing with her like that; just leaving her behind with some copy of himself without even asking. Oh yes, he probably needed a good smack, and if she couldn't have it out with the real Doctor, his copy would have to do.

"Mum, shut up," Rose ground out between clenched teeth.

Jackie raised her hands in her defence. "Well all I'm saying is Christmas would be a good a time as any for a wedding…"

John Lord, known also as the Doctor, the last Time Lord, the Oncoming Storm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous, choked on his tea.

Coughing, spluttering, and attempting to clear the tea from his woefully inadequate lungs – where was his respiratory bypass when he needed it? – he spoke at the same time as Rose.

"Jackie that's a bit early!"

"We're not getting married, mum!"

"What?" both he and Rose said at once, turning to each other.

"You don't want to?" John asked.

"You do?"

"I thought you did, don't you?"

Rose raised her shoulders in a shrug. "We never talked about it. I just assumed…"

Jackie, choosing her moment carefully, gathered her tea and left the room quietly, a satisfied smile on her face that she'd got the conversation off the ground.

"You assumed what?" He met her eyes, cautious.

Rose weighed her words carefully, not wanting to offend him. "You don't do domestic. It doesn't matter to me. I'm just happy you're here. That's all I need."

"But your mum seems to think you want a wedding."

"Mum wants to throw a party, that's all."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. In the five months since they were unceremoniously dropped into this universe by his fully Time Lord counterpart, their relationship had escaped definition, much has it had during their years travelling together. They were rarely apart, but their togetherness had never been named.

The Doctor had taken the name John Lord and had worked as an external consultant for Torchwood, though his time was primarily consumed with his own research at the university.

He had been given a small flat in the same block as Rose's own; paid for by Torchwood, the flats were let for the use of its researchers who were working in conjunction with the university at Oxford.

But now she and John were staying at a hotel in London after being forcibly removed from their flats following Rose's resignation. It was inconvenient, but he'd supported her principled stance, even if it did mean suffering Jackie's regular presence until they sorted out new living arrangements.

"What do you want? Really?" John asked softly.

Rose looked away, and replied in a quiet voice. "I already told you, Doctor. You're stuck with me forever. I don't need any more than that."

John took a deep breath and let it out between tight lips. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair, staring off into nothing. "I wasn't a good Time Lord, you know. All the ceremonial nonsense," he shuddered. "But I know it matters to some people. You humans, you're big on it too. I'm here, I'm here for good, I do mean that. But, Rose, tell me, is that – a wedding– something you want?"

"What does it matter?"

"What you want matters to me, you know that."

She seemed to weigh her response carefully before responding. "Then no, I don't want a wedding. Big party with all that fuss and mum driving me 'round the bend for months. I love you, and you're here. That's all that matters to me. Don't let mum make you think differently. Plus I don't think this universe could handle you in a tux. The sun might explode."

He chuckled, agreeing completely. "True. Don't have the best track record, me and tuxedos. Think we have any hope of ever shutting your mum up about it?"

"Probably not," Rose said with a sigh. Silence descended on them again, but after a beat he spoke up once more.

"Then how about you marry me the Gallifreyan way?" She stared at him, hearing the words but not quite processing them, and sat there in stunned silence. "Marriage wasn't for love on Gallifrey. It was ceremonial or political, like everything else my people did. But I've always done things my own way. I've already promised you forever, but I want to give you my name."

The silence stretched into awkwardness before she gathered her thoughts enough to speak.

"Well. Well, that will definitely shut mum up."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it is, you idiot." Rose grinned, tongue poking out from between her teeth. He reached over and pulled her into a kiss.

They were married in the gardens, beneath the solstice moon, in the eyes of her parents and Tony and the multitude of stars glittering in the firmament.

She'd worn a simple dress in as deep a blue as the gathering dusk. The air was warm for December, so she'd not needed a coat. Her hair cascaded in waves over her shoulders and she wore a simple string of pearls around her neck. The Doctor stood before her in a formal black suit, his only nod to the ceremonial garb of his people being the scarlet tie about his neck.

"I consent and gladly give," Pete intoned, his voice solemn but the corners of his eyes crinkled with happiness.

Jackie repeated the words, "I consent and gladly give." She passed her daughter's hand to John and smiled up at him.

He wrapped their hands together with a length of golden silk.

Beneath the gaze of a billion worlds circling a billion stars, the last Time Lord and the Bad Wolf promised each other forever in the ancient tongue of Gallifrey, which all assembled, for once, understood.

He leaned down to speak in her ear. The softly rolling syllables of his name echoed in her mind and etched themselves across her memory.

Rose wondered, in the weeks to come, how it was that she had spoken the practiced lines of her promise to him in the lyrical speech of his people, but he had simply smiled mysteriously and said some secrets were best not known.

A slip of sunlight broke through the blinds and nagged at her eyelids. Rose threw her arm up over her face to block it out, moaning at the intrusion of the day – the last day of their short holiday – into her happy bubble of sleep. Feeling a chill, she pulled the duvet up over her and rolled away from the light.

She heard a chuckle from across the room.

"S'not nice to laugh at your suffering wife," she muttered at him. A moment later she felt the bed bounce as he dropped onto it.

"Morning, love. Sleep well?"

"Mm. Yes. Can we take this bed to the new flat? It's gorgeous." She stretched her arms above her head and laid back in the down pillows.

He leaned over her, hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders, and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "No better than my bed on the TARDIS."

"Yeah, but this one's a close second. I'm keeping it. Don't care what the hotel says." She reached over to where she'd dropped her dressing gown beside the bed. As she pulled it on, she caught the scent of eggs and sausage. "Did you order breakfast?"

"Just arrived. Thought we'd get something into us before we have to face your mum."

"Oh God, she's going to be so bleedin' smug about this whole thing." She sat down and poured them each a cup from the porcelain teapot.

"Next she'll be bothering us about babies," he said casually.

Rose paused, missing her cup and spilling milk on the tray. She closed her opened jaw with a click of teeth. "Yes. Yeah. That… that's a conversation we definitely need to have."

Seeing her discomfort, the Doctor leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "But not right now. Let's just get used to being just us, alright?"

They settled into their breakfast. He pulled the copy of the London Times off of the tray and opened it to the crossword. He licked the tip of his pencil and went to work.

She watched him as he quickly solved the clues, scrawling the answers in the boxes. He became quite engrossed in the puzzle, but seemed to be nearly finished it after only a few minutes. The peaceful domesticity of the moment brought a wide smile to her face.