A/N: This is my first Doctor Who fan fic, and the first fan fic of any kind I've been brave enough to share since creating an awful Star Wars story back in eighth grade.

This story popped into my head while re-watching "Fear Her." At first I thought I'd just be dealing with the neatly dodged issue of the Doctor having been a dad once. But that closing scene just demanded more.

Of course, I don't own the Doctor, Rose, the TARDIS or any of their accoutrements. (Although I wouldn't mind having a TARDIS. And my husband would love a sonic screwdriver.) All are property of the BBC. I'm just having fun getting inside the Doctor's head.

Spoilers here for "Fear Her."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It Just Slipped Out

By

Lariel Romeniel

"I was a dad once."

The instant the words left his mouth, he winced internally. Nearly a millennia of living, and he still hadn't learned not to say everything that popped into his head.

He'd never really intended to leave Rose in the dark about that aspect of his past. But in his last life, his feelings were still too raw. Remembering had just been too painful. Easier to hide behind the black leather jacket, the dry wit and the occasional crack about stupid apes.

Then the regeneration. She'd been so shocked by it. And so hurt when she met Sarah Jane. He'd resolved then not to keep secrets from her. Not to surprise her like that again.

He'd planned to tell her, really. About being a dad. About Susan. As soon as he had a real chance. A breather between spots of running for their lives.

He'd never intended to spring it on her quite like this. Not so casually, with an offhanded comment. It just slipped out.

At least he'd managed to control his expression. Perhaps she missed it?

He should have known better. Rose never missed a thing. "What did you say?"

Oh, no. He wasn't having that discussion now. Domestics could wait until they'd finished saving the world. Fortunately he'd finished putting his device together, giving him an opening to change the subject. "I think we're there!"

He sprang to his feet. "Fear, loneliness. They're the big ones, Rose."

He babbled on, trying to act normal, trying to distract her from the questions he knew she wanted to ask. Questions he would answer later. After he found the Isola pod. After all the paper drawing people had been restored to reality.

The babbling seemed to work. It held her off, distracted her until they found what they were looking for. The pod had been detected. "Everything's coming up Doctor," he said with a grin, and dashed out the TARDIS doors with Rose a step behind.

He'd dodged the questions for the moment, but he knew she wouldn't let it go. Once the world was saved, she'd ask. Or, if she was really troubled by it, she'd worry at it and turn it over in her mind for a few hours. Then she'd come to him in the middle of a sleepless night, looking for answers.

That was all right. He'd be ready to give them by then.

Later, as they strolled hand in hand down the street, watching the fireworks, he thought she might be ready to ask the question. But it didn't come. Perhaps she was waiting for a quieter moment, alone in the TARDIS, where there would be no other distractions.

"You know what?" she asked lightheartedly. "They keep trying to split us up. But they never ever will."

A chill went down his spine, despite the warmth of the late July night. A sense of dread washed over him. Where did that come from?

He stopped walking and pulled away from her slightly, a serious look on his face. And it happened again. He said what came into his head. His answer wasn't the one he wanted to give. Not the one he knew she wanted to hear. "Never say never ever."

She tugged on his hand to bring him back shoulder to shoulder with her. "Oh, we'll always be OK, you and me," she said, looking up at the sky show. Such confidence in her tone. He quickly looked away at the sky as she turned to him, and her confidence slipped. "Don't you reckon, Doctor?"

He wouldn't look back at her. He didn't want her to see his sudden fear. She'd had enough fear for one day. She should have a chance to enjoy the fireworks and the warm evening. He'd brought her to London 2012 to have a good time, not to scare her with sudden prescience.

She was waiting for an answer. Perhaps he should change the subject? Now might be a good time to tell her about being a dad once.

But when he spoke, again, it just slipped out. Words he didn't really mean to say but couldn't stop, as if they demanded to be spoken. "Something in the air, something coming," he said softly, still staring upwards.

Rose looked up too, trying to see what he was seeing. "What?"

"A storm's approaching."

He didn't have to look at her to know she'd turned frightened eyes towards him. He felt her shiver and press closer to him. He knew he should fold her into his arms, chase away her fears with his embrace as he always did. But he couldn't chase away her fears when his own made his hearts hammer so fiercely.

She'd have another sleepless night, and would come to him for answers. He didn't think he would have them.