The Doctor-Tyler Family

The More Things Change...

"The more things change, the more they stay the same." -Old Proverb

"Spanner," the Doctor said, holding his hand out to Rose, who picked up a wrench and handed it to him. He was crouched low over a complicated system of wires - a universal translator, like the one in his old TARDIS. Rose sat an arms length away where the table was clear for her paperwork, one of the few drawbacks about her job at Torchwood.

They were in the yellow spare room that they used as a nursery for the TARDIS coral. The coral itself was in a large aquarium directly across from the window so it would get the best sunlight possible. The table they sat at was littered with bits of alien tech Torchwood hadn't needed and TARDIS blueprints the Doctor had drawn. They had to have a console and a container for when the coral matured, and almost every day the Doctor put in at least an hour at this table, making their 'dream home' a reality.

He looked so cute, intensely focused as he was, with his hair wildly messy from the times he'd run his hands through it. He was working so hard to be ready when the baby TARDIS coral grew up. Rose tried for a moment to remember if she'd ever seen him this focused and driven before the MetaCrisis. She fancied she could remember the expression on his face a few times in the past, but always in brief spurts when he was doing something important and technical while trying to save the world.

He hadn't had the chance to save the world in a long time now. He'd certainly contributed - Torchwood had dipped it's fingers in the militaries and governments of most nations in the world, and Dr. John Smith was one of, probably the, best man in their organization; but because Torchwood was so secretive, and they couldn't have anyone looking too closely into who he was, not many people knew the true inventor and diplomat behind so many great achievements. Which was fine. The Doctor had never been one to stand there while people threw him a parade. But that used to be because he had other places to be and things to do, and Rose couldn't help thinking that at the moment, no matter what he said, he wouldn't have minded a parade. He deserved a Nobel prize at the very least. He was used to being the great one man show, with his companion running behind, pointing out the obvious things so that he could change them into something no one else would ever call 'obvious.' Now he was stuck in a lab or an office, working on alien and cyber tech at work and his TARDIS at home, praying for the coral to grow faster so he could get back to living.

One thing hadn't changed, though-

"Are you supposed to be working on those wires while they're live like that?" Rose asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Probably not," he muttered, pulling up a staple with a flat-headed screw driver.

"Well, if you're going to electrocute yourself," Rose said, "warn me first, and I'll take the chicken out and order Chinese."

"That sounds good actually," the Doctor said.

Rose looked indignant. "I spent hours on that chicken." The Doctor looked up, a host of cringe-worthy expressions arrayed on his face.

"I didn't mean I don't want chicken. Chicken sounds great."

She laughed. "I picked it up at the store ready made." He laughed with relief.

"Don't scare me like that," he said, still looking at her. "You're too good an actress. You looked like your mother." She scowled and leaned over to swat his arm, but he leaned out of reach, and they both nearly fell off before righting themselves, laughing as she finally succeeded in hitting him, and returning to their individual work.

She could still make him smile.