Breadcrumbs and Bathtubs

Summary: Four years after being trapped in Pete's World, Rose has given up hope that she'll ever see the Doctor again. Have all of her efforts been for naught?

Spoilers Through the end of series three to be safe - and though this is a post-"Doomsday" reunion fic, I'm not acknowledging any of the series four spoilers that are lurking about the net. Also, if you squint, there are some spoilers for series two of Torchwood. Events described in part four come from the Fifth Doctor serial, "Enlightenment" written by Barbara Clegg.

Disclaimer Oh, my. They're not mine. I'm not even British! The BBC owns it all - especially my soul.

A/N: Leave it to me to join a fic-a-thon and volunteer to write for a fandom I've never written for before, as well as one that's new to me, to boot. This was written for Zinke who wanted a Ten/Rose fic with a claw-footed, antique tub and a rubber duck named Darth Nader.

Special thanks and a tin of chocky biscuits to Bex for helping me out with the Britishisms among other things. (Which, come to think of it, is only fair since she's the one that pimped Doctor Who on me in the first place!) And another tin to eman for being both a fantabulous beta and an even better friend. If this fic is any good, it's because they've made it that way. That said, any mistakes are all mine.

One

Rose quietly let herself into the mansion she had called home for four years. She spent those years hoping, searching, and waiting - and it had gotten her nowhere. She'd finally found the Eternals and had pleaded her case for their help only to have it denied. They wouldn't help her bridge the Void. She'd put on a brave face then, and had maintained it throughout the day, trying to function around the hot ball of sorrow that had taken up residence in her chest, not wanting to let on to her co-workers or mates how devastated she was.

Now, as she closed the front door behind her with a soft 'snick,' it all came crashing in, and she slid down the door, landing in a crumpled heap on the cold tile of the foyer. Tears blurred her vision and she stuffed a hand in her mouth to stifle the sobs, the truth of it all finally registering though her denial.

She would never, ever see him again. Ever.

"Rose? Is that you?"

Frantically wiping away her tears, Rose clambered to her feet and shook off her sorrow, pulling herself together for her mum. "Yeah," she replied, taking a shaky step toward the sitting room. "I'm home."

Jackie looked up from her magazine and instantly dropped it, rising to her feet and crossing the room in what amounted to a heartbeat. Before Rose could stop her, she'd been wrapped in a hug, her mother shushing and tutting while rubbing soothing circles in her back, "I'm sorry, love."

Not able to hold herself together any longer, Rose choked out, "They wouldn't help me."

Jackie released her and led her to the couch, sitting down only when Rose had folded herself into the plush cushions. "Tell me about it," she said.

Rose sighed and looked up to the ceiling. "I followed all the clues. I know I did the right thing. Everything pointed me to them. They know about the Void and they know how to cross it. They've been doing it forever." Anger welled up inside of her, and she took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing. "They admitted that they could do it, they could bridge the Void and take me across."

"What happened?" Jackie whispered.

"I explained how I wound up over here, and that I wanted to know if there was a way to get back. There is." Rose wiped absently at a stray tear. "But they won't tell us how."

"Well, why not?" Jackie asked, indignant. "What makes them so special?"

"Mum." Rose held up a hand. "It's not like that. You have to understand that they don't exist in the same reality that we do. From what I could understand, they exist in all of time and space. It's not just the technology that they'd be giving away; it would be their security - their way of life." When she realised that she had gone from berating to defending the Eternals in the space of a breath, she had to smile. "And I completely understand. I may not like it, but I understand."

Jackie's face softened and she reached out to run her hand down Rose's cheek. "You're so grown up," she mused. "All that mucking about with him did you good."

"Thanks," Rose replied, leaning her cheek into her mother's hand. "I'm just sorry that I wasted so much time for nothing at all."

"It wasn't for nothing," Jackie argued. "You've made a name for yourself over at that infernal Torchwood now; you've proven yourself. You're much more than Pete Tyler's daughter to them, and that's nothing to sneeze at." She patted Rose on the knee and added, "You've grown into a smart, resourceful, young woman, and I'm proud of you."

Rose smiled and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Stop it, Mum. I thought I was done crying and here I go again."

Jackie rose to her feet and took Rose by the hand. "You look all wrung out. Why don't you pamper yourself; take a long hot bath. Use my tub and loads of bubble bath."

She had to admit that the thought of a long, hot, bubble bath did sound heavenly, and she loved her mother's claw-footed, antique tub. "I think I may do that," she agreed. "I'll light some candles and just relax for a little while."

"Good girl," Jackie said, as she herded Rose out of the room and toward the staircase. "Shout down when you're done and we'll have a nice cuppa tea and some HobNobs."

It was a cast iron, classic slipper tub with brass furnishings and it was Rose's favourite thing in the whole house. She had undressed in her room, before throwing on a dressing gown and grabbing her lavender bubble bath from her own bathroom, and was now lighting several candles around the large master bathroom.

The only thing detracting from the ambiance was a small basket of Danny's bath toys which sat on a shelf alongside the tub. Rose picked up a stray sailboat from the bottom of the tub and added it to the collection before turning on the tap and adjusting the water temperature.

A bubble bath was just what she needed to help her to relax, she reasoned, after the madness of the last few years. Ever since she'd sussed out the meaning of her scattered memories, and realised that she'd peppered this dimension with 'Bad Wolf' clues, too, she'd been running on all engines, barely taking time out to eat or sleep.

She poured two capfuls of the bath gel under the running water and watched, mesmerised, as the bubbles took form and began to spread out across the surface. With a sigh of resignation, she slipped the gown from her shoulders and turned off the lights, allowing the candlelight to infuse the room with a warm glow.

Gingerly, she stepped into the tub and sucked in a breath as her skin adjusted to the almost too-hot water. As she lowered herself into the water, she reached for a small towel from the shelf and positioned it behind her head, settling in for a long soak.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to think of anything but him. It was hard, though, as the whole of her existence had been consumed with nothing but him for so long, spanning two universes. She was turning a page, though. The failed negotiations with the Eternals had left her at loose ends and she realised that she was going to have to really, honestly, move on.

Perhaps that was what she had been trying to tell herself, with all those clues scattered everywhere. Was it possible, when she had been possessed by the Time Vortex and had seen it all, that she had seen she would need something to focus on in the years following her . . . imprisonment? No, that was too harsh . . . exile in this dimension in order to keep her from going mad?

The blindness had been lifted, and the memories were as clear as crystal now. No longer was she dependent on what the Doctor had told her had happened during those few minutes when she had burned - she knew. She had told him that she could see everything - all that is - all that was - all that ever could be, and he had responded that he saw that all the time - and didn't it drive her mad?

The irony was that, no, it hadn't driven her mad. Her theory that she'd been able to see this potential timeline, and had left herself a trail of breadcrumbs, had given her hope when she'd been ready to give up.

Bubbles were tickling her chin, and she opened her eyes to see that the water level was quite high, so she sat up, turned off the tap, and settled back, letting the calming scent of lavender work its magic. Her thoughts began to drift away from the Doctor and onto what she would do now - now that her crusade had ended. There was still Torchwood. Her mum was right; she had proven herself to them and could easily stay on there and be happy. Going back to school had crossed her mind but she dismissed that thought as quickly as it had come. A standard education wasn't going to cut it after all the real-life lessons she had experienced.

She was mentally listing all the departments at Torchwood that interested her when she thought she heard the unique sound of the TARDIS materialising. With a sigh, she settled lower in the water, letting the suds lick at her earlobes, and wondered, idly, when she'd stop hearing that sound in the most mundane of things. As she thought this, she heard the door open and felt a cool breeze as the heat escaped from the bathroom, giving her a chill. Without opening her eyes, she said, "I'm fine, Mum. Fabulous, really. I'll be down in a bit for that tea, yeah?"

A voice that definitely did not belong to her mother responded, "Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin, just the thing for healing the synapses."

At first, Rose didn't say a word; she couldn't. The vision of him, standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light filtering in from her mum's room and surrounded by an ethereal glow, was just too much to take in.

The first thought to cross her mind was, 'Oh, my God,' which was followed closely by, 'it's too hot in here, I'm hallucinating,' and then, 'I'm naked.'

She scooted up, blinked, and rubbed her eyes. He was still there, standing smugly with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.

He took a step forward, then stopped and pointed at her. "You've got a little . . ." he paused, and she only stared, dumbly. He smiled in return and completed the distance across the room to the edge of the tub, kneeling before her. Hesitantly, he reached out and gingerly brushed her forehead.

Oh, God, she could feel his touch. If this was a hallucination, it was a damn good one, and she wondered if she hadn't finally gone round the bend. He held out his hand, showing her the bubbles he'd swept from her forehead and, with a wide grin, he blew them at her.

"You're here?" she asked, her voice anything but steady. She raised a soapy hand from the water and held it in front of his face; afraid to actually complete the motion for fear that she would pass through him. She'd already dealt with enough disappointment today and didn't think she could take much more.

"Yup." His eyes were locked on hers, daring her to make the next move, and, against her will, her hand moved forward until she touched his cheek. Involuntarily, she jerked back, bumping the shelf behind her and spilling the basket of bath toys into the water with a splash. Sheepishly, she looked from the floating toys to the Doctor, who was now sporting a dollop of suds on his nose.

"You're really here," she said. "How?"

He deftly swiped the bubbles from his nose and eyed her. "The real question, Rose Tyler," he reached for one of the toys, "is when did you start bathing with rubber ducks?" He squeaked the duck a couple of times and added, "A duck with a Darth Vader helmet, no less?"

"Duck Fadar," Rose automatically replied. "He's Danny's."

With another squeak, the Doctor smiled his approval. "And he glows in the dark. That's brilliant!"

Rose's head was spinning. There were a million things she wanted to ask him, and she was longing to give him a proper hug but, "Um, Doctor?"

He had found a sailboat and was happily conducting a miniature naval battle between it and the duck. "Hmm?"

"I'd love to greet you properly," she said, and she made a point of saying the word as flirtatiously as she knew how. It worked. The battle forgotten, his eyes were solely on her. "But I seem to be wearing nothing but suds."

The heat of his gaze had nothing on the water. "You wear them well," he replied with a theatrical waggle of his eyebrows.

'Some things never change,' she thought. "Doctor, focus," she waved her hand in front of his face, drawing his attention from where it seemed to be on her chest, back to her face. Thankful for sturdy bubbles, she said, "I'd like to properly talk to you, and that's not something I can do while sitting in a tub of suds," she explained, adding, "in my mum's bathroom."

That seemed to get his attention and he quickly rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Too right, that," he stammered. "How is Jackie, anyway? This is her room?" He glanced around and then over his shoulder, out into the bedroom.

Rose scanned the room for the nearest towel, noting that she'd left her dressing gown on the floor near the door. "Yeah, Mum's room." She looked up at him curiously. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm parked just outside." He waved behind him and took another step toward the door.

Rose pointed to an oversized towel and asked, "Could you hand me that?" He picked up the towel and handed it to her, and she motioned for him to turn around before standing, wrapping the towel around her, and stepping out of the tub. "In the front garden?"

The Doctor started to turn his head to acknowledge her but stopped himself short. "I'm sorry?"

Rose had reached her dressing gown and was slipping it over her shoulders, letting the towel fall away. "The TARDIS is in the front garden?" His back was still turned, so she tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm decent now."

He turned back to face her, less than an arm's length away, and she itched to wrap her arms around him, feel him crush her into one of his hugs. Instead, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to Jackie's bedroom, and smiled nervously. "No, I'm parked just outside this door."

Rose imagined her mum stepping foot into her bedroom to find the TARDIS blocking her way and couldn't help it. She laughed - a foreign sound to her ears as it had been far too long since something had struck her as truly, side-splittingly funny. It was a relief, too, to know that she hadn't been hearing things earlier.

"I fail to see the humour in this," the Doctor admonished. "I thought it was your room."

All her tension melted away and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his solid, corporeal form. She rested her head against his chest, still giggling, and then sighed when he lifted his arms to envelop her. "I missed you," she admitted after a moment of silence. "More than you can know."

"Oh, I can know," he replied, his voice serious and deep, tightening his hold on her.

"Still," she replied. "You might want to move the TARDIS before Mum comes looking for me."

(Con't)