Hey guys! I just wanted to say thank-you for all the lovely reviews. I'm afraid that I haven't been as on top of responding to reviews or posting on time because of school, but thanks for bearing with me. I'd also like to thank my friend Saph for beta-ing everything.

This is the last chapter, but I've also posted the M-Rated version of the middle bit (I just didn't want to have to change the rating) so you'll be able to find that under the title "Interlude". There's also at least two more short stories to be posted under this series. I'm sure how much further it'll go after that.

Thanks! Enjoy!

/-/-

He just stands there and smiles. Smiles because it feels so bloody good to let those muscles flex themselves for once, and not force them into action.

It hasn't been much more than two hours since he threw open the door and found them there- his Rose and his son, his gorgeous son. His eight year old son that already has eight years of life that he'll never know about; and yet, despite all that, he already he feels as if he knows so much about this child. This little boy- his son.

He already knows that his son is a ball of energy, one that can be hurled about, focused with precise accuracy at one point or let loose to bounce off every surface it can find. He expends every breath of air spurting out insights and questions, letting his intellect and curiosity go mad manipulating a language not complex enough for his thoughts with stunning perfection.

He feels her presence, her soft footsteps and the stir in the air behind him. He loves the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist and her forehead nudging his back. He smiles, even wider than he already has been, before regretfully moving her hands away and pulling her around to stand next to him. She's smiling at their son- their son… he still can't believe he has a son- even as she leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "You've raised a great kid."

"Your genes helped a lot."

"Must have been hard- raising an alien baby on your own."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I've missed you so much." She reaches up to kiss his neck and he can't help but feel his chest lighten at the familiarity of the action. "Do you think he'd be upset if I asked Donna to give him the grand tour?"

"If I didn't know better, Doctor, I'd say that you're trying to get me alone with you."

"No, hardly. I just don't want Jon to see what I want to do with you. Or Donna for that matter."

She smirks, but even as amusement quirks her brows, her pupils darken with desire. "I don't think Jon'll mind us ditching him, but Donna might."

"Nah… you think? Hey, Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could show Jon around the place?"

"I thought you'd want-" She looks over at them as she speaks and a soft, knowing smile covers her face when she sees them standing, his arm around her waist and her head resting in his shoulder. "Right. Hey, Jon? You want to check out the rest of the TARDIS?"

"Yeah!" Jon's hopping up and rushing for the door, already having to stop and wait for Donna to catch up with him, before he notices that they're not moving. "Mum, Dad, you coming?"

"We'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Okay," he barely shrugs in response before he's off again.

Donna follows him but pauses in the doorway, leaning back to look over at them. "You owe me," she says to the Doctor and the two of them laugh, amusement tumbling off their lips.

As soon as they're alone, Rose turns out of his arms to be facing him. He watches the tips of her fingers brush over the soft silk of his tie, tugging at it, playing with it like she hadn't done for such a long time.

"I've missed doing this." Her voice is glowing when she finds his eyes. All he can do is study her face- study this face that he's missed for so long, the one he's seen in his dreams, the one that has been denied him for so long. She seems to be doing the same- studying this tenth face of his, remembering every detail she can find with her eyes. Soft, delicate fingers brush back hair from his eyes and slowly trail down his cheek. "Missing something," she mutters. His brows scrunch and she smiles, leaving him in wonder even as her fingers dig their way through his pockets. He smiles when he sees his glasses pinched between her fingers. She unfolds them and he holds still as she puts them on him. "Much better."

He brushes a few stray locks behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in, lips finding hers in a soft, sweet kiss. "I've really missed you," he says against her lips, forehead resting against hers.

"I know. Me too."

He's not prepared for her to take his face between her hands and pull him to her. Her kiss is deep and rushed- tongue and teeth clashing against each other- and quickly he catches up. And when they finally are able to break away from each other, even he is struggling to catch his breath, but she's not ready stop. Her hands are moving into his hair and her lips are against his again. He matches her motions, tongue against tongue, his hands trailing down her back, holding her tighter, pulling her to him.

His hands find her hips, pushing away the fabric, desperate to find skin. Hers do the same, running over his chest and under his jacket lapels.

His lips are on her jaw, trailing wet, burning kisses down her neck, nipping at the base of her neck. His hands are brushing over skin, trailing over her back, and suddenly she whimpers and grabs his hands.

He stops kissing her, too confused in his heat of passion to do anything more than look at her. She kisses him, kisses away the fear of rejection, just before bringing his hands to her forehead. He doesn't have to pause to consider her request; he simply beams at her and eases himself into her mind. It's been a while for her, long enough for the sensation to become uncomfortable, but he doesn't see that in her face. He sees only the delight that his presence has brought her in the way her eyes fall closed and her lips part in a gasp.

He kisses her open lips and inches his tongue inside her mouth while his hand massages her neck and his other finds skin beneath her shirt. He sucks at her neck again and she's moaning into his ear, overwhelmed by him.

"We should probably move this to your room."

"Right. Yeah… Where is it?"

She laughs and pushes him gently away. Her fingers brush over his, lacing them together, before pulling him along.

/-/-

She's gorgeous when she sleeps. He's always loved to see her like this- hair tousled, blonde strands taking over the pillow, soft snores keep the silence at bay.

Rassilon, he's missed her.

He's trying to stay as quiet as he can as he moves about the room. With one leg through his trouser leg, he trips when he attempts to get the second through; she barely stirs, just shifts, sighs, and returns to dreamland. He smiles at the amount of wonderfully smooth skin she's exposed to him now that the blanket has slid off her back.

Buttoning his fly as he walks, he goes over to her. With one hand on either side of her body, he grabs the blanket and covers her just before leaning down and kissing the base of her neck and whispering, "You're beautiful," in her ear.

The door rattling catches his attention. He straightens and smiles when he recognizes the soft tickling in his mind.

Pulling the door in, just enough so that he can see out, he finds Donna and Jon- Donna whispering a plea to Jon to leave his parents alone for the night and Jon pouting his lip in the exact same way that Rose does when she wants something.

"It's okay, Donna." She jumps at his voice but not enough to keep her from hiding it. She looks over at him and he knows that she's trying to apologize, but the Doctor's attention is on the way his son's eyes have lit up and a smile is starting to form on his lips.

"Hey, you know what I haven't showed you yet?"

"What!?"

"Well, a lot of things really, but mainly the spatial flux sequencer."

"What does that do?"

"Well I'll show you." He's about to step out into the hall when he realizes where Donna's eyes have strayed to. Rose is the only person to ever see him so exposed; he can feel his whole body blushing beneath her gaze. "After I put on a shirt."

His rumpled maroon T-shirt is laying close by and he throws it over his head before stepping into the hall and closing the door tightly behind him. Donna's still staring but he ignores her and looks down at Jon. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh. Where's mum?"

"She's sleeping."

"Yeah, she does that a lot."

"Humans," the Doctor shrugs and casts a smile over at Donna.

"Speaking of Humans needing their sleep, this Human has gone long enough without any. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Donna!"

"Night. And thank you," he says softly to her.

"It was no problem. Your son's a treat."

He smiles at the comment as she walks down the hall to her room. "Right!" His hands slap together, "Spatial flux sequencers. Come on!"

/-/-

It feels more like a dream. Like a wonderful dream she's simply floating through. She feels warm and loved and perfectly content to lay there for hours wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets with him holding her-

And that's when the dream shatters around her. The only warmth pressing against her back is the blanket she's wrapped in. The only arms holding her are her own.

She keeps her eyes shut tight, keeps her mind focused on the warmth and perfectness of her dream. Because that's all it was: a dream. A glorious dream that involved her son returning her to her Doctor and the two men of her life- with their unbelievably similar characteristics- babbling about space and time.

But it was so believable. So vivid that even now she can still smell him. His scent is invading her nostrils with every breath.

She snaps opened her eyes. Waves of terror and relief and hope crash over her. She's in his room, surrounded by everything him, surrounded by the lull of the TARDIS. She's home. And it's not a dream; not her mind playing tricks on her in the early morning fog of dreams meeting reality.

No, this is real. This is permanent and here. Except minus him. He should be here, holding her, but he never could figure out which nights she wanted him to stay and which she wouldn't be bothered if he left. Typical Doctor.

But she finds herself smiling, despite his absence, as she stretches and reawakens her achy muscles. As much as she wishes she had awakened in his arms or opened her eyes to find him laying beside her with a book propped open on his chest or even some piece of alien technology that he was mucking about with, she's content to know that this is real and she's home and he's just outside those doors.

He's in one of three places, almost certainly. Either the kitchen fixing her breakfast, knowing that he's more likely to woo her away from bed early with the allure of food, in the library searching for another book to occupy his hours in bed with her, or in the control room- the most likely of places this time.

She kicks away the blankets and tries to roll herself out of bed. God, is she sore! It's been far too long.

She wishes that she had something a little more comfortable than what she had been wearing yesterday, but she puts the wrinkled clothes on anyway and heads for the door.

It's like riding a bike- no matter how confusing or complicated the TARDIS's corridors might be, she finds her way easily, her feet having never forgotten the path.

She doesn't see a manic, tall, dark haired Time Lord when she first pauses in the doorway of the control room. But, after a second look, she does see two pairs of white converse trainers, one tiny in comparison to the other, attached to a pair of long, awkwardly folded legs and one pair of skinny twigs of legs that hit a growth spurt a little too soon.

She can't hear the words that are being exchanged between the two, just the sounds of tools against tools and wires sparking- the sounds of the Doctor working.

She smiles- she can't help it, not with this wonderful ball of contentment swelling in her chest- as she watches the two men in her life work on their magnificent time ship.