Trigger Warnings: PLEASE READ

This story contains graphic description of domestic abuse and the aftermath of dealing with domestic and sexual abuse from a significant other. This story also contains blood, cussing, sexual themes.

If you or someone you know is in a situation with abuse, please reach out for help. You are not alone. For a toll-free hot line to speak to someone who can get you help, please call 1-800-799-7233 for my US readers or go to . All calls and messages are free and confidential and available in over 200 languages as well as video chats for those who are deaf or hard of hearing. You are not alone. I do not condone domestic or sexual abuse in anyway and am dealing with my own personal history through this fanfiction. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to message me.

Read at your own risk

I don't own any Doctor Who Characters, Enjoy!

– – –

Another night up at the bar late,

Skinny dresses and heartbreaks,

There's nothing magic going on,

Then along came you

–Breathe – Mako

She didn't know what drove her to stay where she was. She didn't know what in the world called her to believe this was right or what she deserved but she did. She stayed, even when she knew it would kill her in the end. Perhaps that was what she felt she deserved, death at the hand of someone she loved so dearly and hated even more.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of their flat, her knees drawn to her chest and her chest heaving with the force of her ragged breathing. Another fight, another argument, another night of the bullshit she couldn't think how to stop. She didn't know how it had happened, but he had been so very angry. He was always so very angry. She heard the neighbors upstairs in the flat above her, their footsteps the only noise she could hear and for that she was thankful, it meant he was gone.

Rose stood, holding onto her stomach where he had punched her, knowing how badly it would hurt her in the morning if the pain she felt now was any indication. She could feel the bruise that would soon blossom onto her skin. She held herself up with one hand to the wall as she stumbled to the bathroom, flicking the light on and flinching at the sudden brightness in her slightly drunken haze.

On nights like this, the drink was all she could do to numb the continuing pain of the world she had trapped herself in. She gazed her herself in the mirror, her face pale, her eyes sunken in. She pulled her shirt up, seeing how thin she had become. She shivered, once in her life she had not been this way, not looked this way but those memories were so long ago. She heard the ding of her phone's text tone going off in the bedroom and she didn't bother to check. He was the only one who had ever spoken to her after it all. She had lost so many friends along the way, and her own family didn't speak to her. She assumed she had been at the very least disowned by her mother, but she never spoke to the older woman to check. She knew in the back of her mind she was afraid of what the answer would be.

She gripped the rim of the sink, her hands turning white from the pressure she held it by. This was nothing new, her appearance no longer shocked her, she had long since accepted that she had turned into a ghost of a woman. Jimmy had told her time and time again how lucky she was that he even still fucked her, how could he want to? She was stick and bones.

She stumbled once more to the bed, seeing it messy from weeks of not making it. She barely wanted to sleep, but she knew that while he was gone she would be able to. She crawled into the dirty sheets,stained with only the gods knew what. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of cigarettes and whiskey. She could sleep, only now she could sleep.

–

Jimmy Stone slammed the door closed when he arrived home, knowing his girlfriend would still be there, she never left, she'd never leave him. She heard the door and she bolted upright, holding the sheet to her chest to cover herself though she had never gotten out of her day clothes. She heard his footsteps and it took everything in her not to sob. One glance at the clock told her it was only just past 4 AM, she was surprised she had even gotten as much sleep as she did. She watched the shadows flicker from the living room through the hole Jimmy had punched through the door when he had seen her speaking to another man, the mailman as it was.

She quickly laid back down, praying to whatever god would listen that he'd leave her be, at least for one night. "Rosie?" he called and she flinched, closing her eyes tightly and hiding in the sheets but he'd always find her, she never hid that well. She hoped by some miracle she would turn invisible so he'd never find her again. He opened the bedroom door, seeing her shaking form he grinned wildly. He tugged his boots off, tossing them to the side with a loud bang on the floor. He laid down beside her, tugging her firmly by the waist to rub against him. "No point in trying to sleep Rosie, I know you're awake." he purred.

Rose moved away slightly, of course he'd notice, he always did. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "Not still mad about earlier are you? I told you baby girl, you made me so mad. I don't like hurting you baby." He sighed, kissing down her neck, his hand pushing up her shirt. "If you'd just listen..."

She sat up, shaking her head. "Jimmy you're drunk." She muttered, grabbing a throw blanket. She'd sleep in the bathtub.

He followed her, watching her throw her blanket into the dirty tub. "What the fuck is your problem?" He growled, a glass bottle in hand. He said he always had to have a drink to put up with her.

"I'm just not in the mood okay..." She tried, looking up, hoping to appease him. "Please Jimmy, not tonight." She begged but he'd have none of her tonight. He growled, reaching up and slapping her across the face. She spun, tumbling against the wall and pushing herself back up.

"I let you fucking live here, I let you mooch off of me and I let you whore around with every guy you fucking see and this is how you fucking repay me!" He shouted, raising a hand again. He grabbed her by the hair, seeing her try to hide her face from him. "Fucking look at me!" he demanded, his fingers tangling into blonde locks. "Ugly little bitch."

She tried to get away, but he swung, her head slamming into the glass of mirror. She heard the shatter so close to her ear but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She cried out in pain, falling to the ground when he let her go. She tried to push herself up, trying so badly to stand but he stood above her, the bottle in hand. He took a long swing, grinning like a mad man.

"You do this to me Rosie, you make me like this." He growled, his hand to his chest. "I'm a good man, I don't want to punish you but you do this to me." He turned, going to the bedroom and she knew what he was going to get. The handcuffs. When they first started dating he would use them and say he had a kink, now he used them to hold her there.

She reacted in an instant, not even fully thinking, but she knew she had to do something. She moved as quick as her wounded body would let her, grabbing the bottle from his hand. He spun around to hit her again for taking from him but she screamed, closing her eyes as she bashed him over the head with the bottle.

Jimmy's eyes grew large as the pain ran through him, the glass shattering and Jim Beam drenching the disgusting carpet below them. She put her hand over her mouth, feeling the glass protruding from her skin puncture her face. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, watching the man crumble. She knew she had to run. She knew this was her chance.

She fled out the door of their flat, running down the stairs and trying her best to not fall. She felt the burning of tears and blood mix and she realized she could barely see. The window from their bedroom opened, a bloody Jimmy Stone leaning out. "You fucking bitch!" He screamed. "I'm going to fucking kill you!" His face was purple with rage, blood dripping down his face from the glass. His eyes were filled with the look of a man capable of murder but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

So she did all she could do.

Rose Tyler ran.

– –

John had woken to the sound of the rain pouring outside and he groaned softly. He pushed himself out of bed. It was only a little past 6 am, but he could still see how dark it was outside. It was the middle of December, and it had rained all night. He knew today would be a rough day to say the very least. He didn't have to go into his job that day, for that he was grateful. His sister Donna would take over the shop for him. She had ever so graciously decided to take over his shift for him today as he didn't sleep well the night prior.

He went to his bathroom, looking over his reflection and groaning at how exhausted he appeared, dark circles under his eyes and all. He checked his cell, walking into the kitchen and flicking on the television to the morning news. He passed his painting he had never finished sitting in the corner, biting his lip as Donna would say time and time again that he was far too busy a man for his hobbies. He once truly loved creating art but he just didn't have the time nor the inspiration.

He fixed himself a quick cup of black coffee, hating the taste but he was a man of routine. He drank it black every day so he didn't have to bother fixing it, he ate his English muffin every morning as he watched the news and he read his book until he was given a task. He liked his routine life, he didn't want to change it.

He was disturbed from his morning routine by the shrill ringtone of his cell, something he had yet to change even after having the blasted thing for nearly two years. He sighed, putting his book down and approaching, seeing it was Donna. She was a talkative woman but she'd never call this early in the morning. He answered, standing straight.

"Good morning Donna, what do I owe the pleasure-"

"John..." She sobbed. His eyes widened and he listened, she was clearly upset.
"Donna! What's wrong. Is it the baby?" he asked quickly. Donna was nearly four months pregnant with her husband Jack. "Where are you?! What's wrong?" Donna was a stubborn woman, she did not ask for help and to her credit, she never needed it. She could fix a problem before John could even figure out what the problem was.

She took a ragged breath, shaking violently. "No it's not the baby but you have to come to the shop right away!" He didn't waste a minute. He quickly shoved his phone in his pocket before throwing on his coat. His sister and he didn't always get along but he'd be damned if he wasn't there during her hour of need.

He lived only four blocks away, but the quick run still felt far too long. He knew people who were out on the streets were staring at him in concern but he didn't care. He wouldn't rest until he had seen Donna and saw that she was alright.

He saw their little bakery, seeing the lights on inside he flung the door open, his eyes scanning the room until he saw Donna. The door swung shut behind him as he rushed to her, the bell dinging loudly but he ignored it, his eyes grew large when he saw red staining her skin. "What happened?!" He demanded, looking her over quickly, needing to see where the blood came from. She put her hands on his face, her own eyes filled with fear.

"John, it's not my blood. I'm okay, I promise." she said. He finally allowed himself to relax, Donna and his unborn niece or nephew were safe. He kept his gaze on her but saw that she was right, she wasn't hurt and other than the blood and disheveled hair, she appeared fine. He sighed, stepping back.

He leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair. "You gave me a scare Donna." he said, trying to calm his heartbeat enough before he paused. "You said it wasn't your blood, who's blood is that?!" He demanded but saw that she wasn't looking at him.

He turned towards a table in the back, more hidden by the counter than the others. There he saw the girl.

Blonde, that was what he saw first, a matted mess of blonde hair and pale skin. His eyes trailed down to her destroyed and ill-fitting clothes. "Who is that..." he said, turning towards his sister in worry. "Who the hell is that?" He hissed, feeling his heart beating quicker.

"I-I don't know!" Donna admitted. "I was on my way to open the shop and this girl ran up to me, she's soaking wet and freezing and she's badly hurt John." she took his hand, her voice quivering. He sighed, glancing towards his sister.

"You didn't think perhaps she was on drugs? Or being followed?! Why did you let her in!" There was something oddly familiar about her however, those wistful eyes struck a chord in his heart.

Donna pulled her phone out, showing him a news article. "Because, I believe she's that missing girl from the estates." she said. He furrowed his brow, taking her phone in hand. "Remember? A few years back? It was all over the news, girl missing from the Estates, the mum was heartbroken. I thought maybe it could be the same person?" He read over the description, seeing that she matched damn near it all however she seemed far too thin and sickly to be this beautiful girl in the photo. He shook that thought out of his mind. It would do no good to think of anyone was beautiful. He had his chance with love and he wouldn't do it again.

He nodded, watching the stranger girl who sat still as a statue, the only indication she was even alive was her blinking ever so often, but even that seemed to be a feat for her. "Even so, we have to call the police, you're in no condition to be caring for-"

"John!" Donna interrupted,she'd be happy to argue with her brother until he saw her way, but she glanced over to the girl to see her swaying in the seat slowly. The blonde looked up, her face battered and bruised but her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body falling from the seat to the cold ground. John ran to her, catching her just in time while Donna rushed to their sides, she helped John get the stranger better into his arms, not wanting her to have to lay on the icy floor. The heat hadn't been turned on for the day.. Her eyes were closed, but she was alive if the hesitant breath she breathed had any indication.

John held her in his arms, in pure shock at the situation he now found himself in. "W-we have to call the police..." He whispered. Donna quickly shook her head.

"What if the person who did this finds her? We can't!" He couldn't say no to her pleading eyes. His sister had a far kinder heart than he ever had. She wouldn't give this up without a fight.

He lifted the girl, finding it deeply worrisome how light she was. He was a strong man but this was scarily light. Donna went to lock the door, flipping the closed sign. He sighed, looking down at the unconscious girl. "Get the first aid kit then." he called, they had an office in the back upstairs with a couch that she would be far more comfortable on.

As Donna did as she was told, he carried her up the steps, feeling her shift but making no sound. He bit his lip, kicking the office door open. This was more his specialty, the office. Donna was amazing with the customers and the staff, he handed the logistics of their bakery.

He laid her down on the maroon couch, he found himself absentmindedly wondering about stains to the fabric but realized it was a pointless worry when a nearly dead woman resided on his office couch.

Donna opened the door, walking in with the first aid kit. "I called Martha, she might not be a doctor yet but she's damn good." She was still in university, but she was brilliant. John nodded, his watch not leaving the blonde woman.

"This is a terrible idea." He muttered, Donna looked up.

"Not nearly as bad as your suit at my wedding, we'll patch her up, let her rest and then find her family." She smiled, squeezing his hand. He sighed, all they could do was wait.

– –

He hadn't moved an inch when Martha walked in, the woman worried, but calm as she knew what she was doing. John trusted Martha with his life, he supposed he could trust her with this as well. He couldn't keep his eyes off this blonde, partly for his fear of her dying in his office and partially because she was beautiful. He looked up, taken from his trance and he smiled, giving Martha a hug.

"Thank you for coming. Donna thinks we need to keep her, I can't say I agree." He muttered, Donna simply smiled.

"Don't thank me yet, but you're welcome." She set her bag down, walking to the sleeping girl. "You all just found her on the street?" She shook her head. "Donna... I swear." She laughed, "Wait until Jack hears about this."

She approached the sleeping figure, kneeling down. She could assess a good majority of the damage but she figured there would be more. She reached for the girl's shirt before the blonde shot up, her eyes large with pure fear as she tried to get away. John moved, blocking the door quickly. "It's okay!" Martha said, standing up and holding her arms out. She saw how the blonde looked at John, realizing what had probably happened. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you." She smiled, glaring at John.

He blinked before raising his hands as well. "My sister, the red head lady? She found, you this morning, we just want to help." He smiled. The girl still looked like she wanted to bolt out the door and he found himself oddly thankful the room was free of windows in case she decided she would jump. He kept his hands up, showing himself to not be a threat. "I don't know what happened to you, or who you are but we are not going to hurt you Miss..." he trailed off. She looked between the two of them, realizing how badly it hurt to move.

Martha smiled kindly, handing her a blanket. "You need stitches, please, sit down." She said. "I have something to help the pain, after I'm done you can rest again alright? But this has to be done or you'll get an infection." That seemed to do the trick, she slowly moved to sit back on the couch, holding the blanket tightly. Martha knelt back down. "John? Talk to her while I administer the pain killers." She said.

He nodded, pulling up his chair he sat down across from the girl. He smiled, but smiling wasn't his strong suit. He crossed his legs, biting his lip before speaking.
"I don't know who you are," he said softly, "but my name is John Noble."

– –

"My name is John Noble." He had said, he said they weren't going to harm her but how many times had she heard that line? Rose sat back, not wanting to look at the needle before it pierced her skin. She whimpered, closing her eyes but as soon as the prick of pain entered her body it was gone just as quickly.

"That should take effect soon, just relax okay?" The woman said softly, pulling out medical grade needles and stitching thread. She had stitches before when she was younger but she hadn't liked it.

She didn't remember coming up to this room, she didn't remember these people standing before her either. She barely remembered anything after she ran from Jimmy's flat. She only remembered the screaming. The woman in front of her leaned forward, pushing her matted hair back to clip it up. She dabbed a cotton ball against the open gash on her cheek and Rose hissed in pain. The woman furrowed her brow, a confused but also saddened look on her face. Rose didn't want her pity.

"What happened to you?" The doctor asked softly, "You aren't in danger here, you can tell us." Rose didn't want to, but they kept staring at her with such curious need for an answer. She didn't move, but she looked down.
"Fell down the stairs." She muttered, not seeing the look John and Martha gave one another. They obviously didn't believe her, she didn't blame them but she didn't want to have her information pried at.

"Right, stairs." Martha smiled, "Blasted things, I fall down them all the time." For some reason, that comforted Rose. They weren't asking. She felt the knots in her stomach numb, the feeling of anxiety and worry fading away, realizing that whatever the woman had given her had kicked in. Martha knelt down, pushing the needle through Rose's skin. Rose looked back up towards the man, John Noble. He didn't meet her gaze.

"You look hungry, I'll go get you food." He said quickly, leaving the room. Martha smiled as Rose watched him go.

"He's not overly fond of blood." She said, moving the needle in and out of her skin. "He's a good man, so is his sister." She mused, focused on her work. Rose watched her, she had seen enough to not care about needles. "Do you have a name?" Martha asked, pausing her work. Rose was scared to tell her, Martha seemed to see that.

"You don't have to be afraid. Whatever you're running from won't get you here." Rose opened her mouth to argue before she realized there was no point. They saw right through her.

"Rose. My name is Rose."

– –

Martha walked down the stairs, wiping her hands on a rag. John looked up, a cinnamon roll on a plate for the girl. "Well, she'll be alright." Martha said with a smile. Donna stood, her hand on her stomach, her heart filled with worry. "Her name is Rose, she has no family that she'll speak of, but whoever did that to her won't be too kind if they find her." She sighed, moving to the sink to wash the blood from her hands.

"You think someone did that to her?" Donna asked, fear in her voice.

"Well, obviously I can't say for sure, but she reacted to my questions like a lot of the cut and dry domestic abuse cases I've seen. I'd say she ran away." John leaned against the wall, this was more than he bargained for. Donna eyed her brother, that stubborn look in her eye that he knew all too well.

"Donna..." he warned but she cut him off.

"Whoever is looking for that girl might kill her. We can't just leave her to die!" She said sternly, crossing her arms. He shook his head, ready to argue. "Martha, if you would excuse us, I need a word with John, alone." She said, Martha mumbling that she had to call someone, excusing herself back to the office.

"This is not a good idea Donna." John growled, staring at his sister, he was always the more stern of the two, she was the more emotional. He once thought that made her weaker than he, but he realized how strong of a woman his sister was. "She could lead whoever did that to us, and I'm not putting any of us at risk because of a stranger!" She huffed, closing her eyes.

"You might be right, she might be a drugged up gang member who is going to steal all of our stuff for all we know, and if you're right you can hold it over my head as long as you see fit..." She paused but John didn't dare interrupt her now. "But if you're wrong, and we let that girl go out into the world with whoever is out there looking for her, I will never forgive myself." She stood, unwavering in her stance on the matter. "Because if she needs our help I will be damned if I let her go."

He wanted so badly to argue, but he found himself unable to. She reminded him so much of their mother. He had known that she would be like their mother the day she was born. He couldn't bring herself to argue with her now. Donna watched him, her gaze hardened, determined.

He sat down at the counter, his head in his hands. "You can't take her to your house, I'm putting my foot down at that and Jack will agree with me." He said. "She can come to mine, I have an extra room." He didn't fully want responsibility for this stranger but he knew they had no other choice. Donna was right, he'd never forgive himself either if they let her go into a world where her life would be ended at any moment. Donna nodded quickly. "You'll stay away from her until I tell you to come, I'm not putting you two at risk like that." He smiled tightly.

"I'll get her some clothes. I have a bunch I was going to donate but they might fit her." She said, walking towards the back door to her parking spot. She paused, glancing over. "Thank you John." She said softly, "Mum would be proud." He felt the block in his throat once more, leaving him rather speechless.

They barely spoke of their mother, but he knew she was right. She would be proud if she knew what they were doing, she was selfless like that.

– –

She had several bags of clothes that would be too large, but fit the girl better than the near rags she wore now. He knocked lightly on the office door, Martha opening it for him. He saw her awake still, he found himself surprised. He thought she'd sleep. "I have some clothes." he said, shifting on the balls of his feet. He didn't want to scare the girl. "I'll leave so you can change."

"Are you going to make me leave?" the girl, Rose asked softly, her voice not quivering but she sounded near tears. He couldn't look away from her if he tried. She looked more like a corpse than a human but her eyes were bright, full of fight and endurance. He smiled. She hadn't given up. Martha shook her head.

"No, you said you don't have a family, but we can't just leave you on the street." She said. "You'll be staying with John-" she saw the girl tense up, looking between them both.

"N-No..."

"It's okay." Martha smiled, taking her hand in hers, looking at the cuts and bruises littering her skin. "You'll be safe with him. He's a good man Rose, I promise." She took the trash bag, searching through it before finding a large sweater and yoga pants. "Here, change into this. John will take you home, you can eat and shower there. You'll be safe."

She stood, smiling at John, "Let's give her some privacy." She muttered, the two walking out of the room and closing the door. "I knew you wouldn't just leave her." she said, John was a good man, his heart was golden but his mind was jaded.

He had taken Donna's keys, he wouldn't make the girl walk. He had turned the car on so it would warm up from the heavy snow fall. He didn't want her to freeze. He found himself caring about her comfort.

The door opened after a few moments, the girl stepping out. He smiled, seeing the bloody clothes in the trash can. They had been so large on her, he wondered if they were even hers to begin with. Donna's clothes dwarfed her but he knew it was all they could do. The women were similar in height at least but the girl was far too thin.

Donna prepared a small pack of food, treats and pastries, hoping to get her to smile. She handed the bag to John, seeing the blonde walking down the steps slowly. She grinned, reaching out to her. "You look much better." She said, her voice motherly and warm. Rose was drawn to it. "I don't know what you like to eat but I made you a bag, John will take care of you." She said, placing her hand on Rose's shoulder and sighing when she flinched.

"The car is ready." John said, looking between them, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. He saw the heavy snow fall that had begun during this mess. Rose moved away from Donna, closer to him but keeping a far distance. He didn't blame her.

They left the bakery, Donna moving to speak with Martha. They would offer to pay her for her services but she'd refuse.

He sat in the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He glanced over, seeing the girl pressed against the seat, trying to make herself smaller. She was afraid, of course she was. He reached over to push the gears into reverse. "You don't have to worry about whoever it is anymore. I have a guest room, you'll be safe there. You can rest there." He said, hoping to calm her down.

Finally Rose looked at him. Every time their eyes met he felt his chest grow tighter but he could ignore that. He was drawn to her. He wanted to protect her. "I live just a few blocks away, we'll get you warmed up, you must be freezing!" he laughed, but it faded when he saw her gaze from him didn't move. He shifted to drive, looking away from her.

"Thank you." Her soft voice came, and he nodded, clenching his teeth in an effort to not take her hand, to comfort her. "I wasn't ready to die yet." He wondered what world she came from where such a thing would even cross her mind.

They drove in silence, John keeping his eyes on the road. He didn't want to frighten her more than he was sure they already had.

When they did arrive at his modestly large flat, he opened the door for her, offering his hand which she refused. He closed the door, checking his mail quickly before unlocking his door on the first floor.

His flat was huge, at least to her standards. It was a much older building, one she was sure had been a large mansion of a house before as she could see in the walls outlines of doors that had long since been bricked up. He flicked on the light, an old fixture flickering on and illuminating the home.

He had little décor, a few photos here, a painting or two there. She noticed the canvas on the floor, only half done of a night sky and mountains but hardly a speck of color. He closed the door, locking it behind them and hanging up the keys. Donna could get them later. She flinched at the sound of the metal on the wooden table and he made a note to gently place them down next time.

She walked into the living room, the room walled off save for a large arch that made the doorway, a crimson couch and matching love seat, a tv, a bookshelf. It was all very impersonal. She walked towards the book shelf, looking over his choice of novel. "Pride and Prejudice." She said, picking up the book and he smiled sheepishly.

"You must ignore my taste in books, I'm afraid I've always loved a cheesy romance." He admitted. She nodded, placing it back. "I have a large movie collection, and of course a few streaming services if you'd like to watch a movie." He offered but she shook her head.

"You mentioned a shower?" She asked, looking over at him and he nodded quickly.

"Right! Yes, a shower, right this way!" He ushered her deeper into the home, passing by walls of paintings with no frames. She saw a small signature at the bottom of each, noting it was all the same. They were highly whimsical designs, she found she rather liked them. He opened a wooden door, the pristine white bathroom opening up for her. "There's an empty drawer, bottom right. If you'd like you're free to use that, I know Donna is bringing some... lady things here for you later." He shrugged. "But you're also free to use my products. I hope you like strawberries." He said, he placed a towel on the white tile counters, flicking the light on for her. "Claw-foot bathtub if you'd prefer, I also have a shower. These old houses have all the fixings."

He didn't know why he was talking so much to her, he was a man of solitude and silence mostly, but he wondered if it was because he finally had someone to speak to.

She ran her fingers across the bathtub, she hadn't taken a bath in so long but water was always a very relaxing place for her. She turned, nodding at him, her lips upturning just slightly into a sad little smile. He felt his heart beat quicker. No, he had just met this girl and she was obviously traumatized! He knew it wouldn't help her to deal with an attraction, she needed to rest, she needed to heal both physically and mentally. He wouldn't allow himself to get close to her like that.

He saw himself out, closing the door behind her.

Rose let herself breathe, closing her eyes. She hadn't expected this to happen, she had expected to either bleed out or freeze to death. As she let her eyes roam the bathroom, she couldn't bring herself to believe she was actually safe. That is if she was even safe. She didn't know these people, but she had once or twice gone to the bakery she had ended up in before Jimmy had decided it wasn't good for her to go so often. She wondered if Jimmy had seen this John Noble. She didn't want to think on that. She moved forward, to the shower and reached in, turning the water on as hot as it could go. She wanted the feeling of Jimmy Stone's hands on her to melt away.

She pulled the woman's clothes off of her, she had been so kind. Rose smiled, but looked at herself in the mirror.

She tried to run her fingers through her matted hair but they barely passed, she looked at her busted lip, the bruises running across her cheeks, her throat, her hips, her stomach, her legs. She shivered, turning away. Once in her life she thought she was beautiful, now she felt like nothing more than a stupid little girl. She folded the clothes, seeing a new pair of leggings and a long sleeve shirt sitting on the counter. She guessed John had left it there for her because she hadn't noticed it before.

She stepped into the shower, gasping at the scalding heat before she quickly turned it down. She stood for a moment, watching the dirt and crusted blood fall from her skin. She watched it go down the drain, feeling a sense of satisfaction rise in her chest.

She took the bar of soap, washing her skin, when she realized that did little good she took the loofa in hanging from a small suction cup hook and scrubbed as hard as she could, her skin turning red from the force but she didn't care. She didn't feel clean.

She took a good amount of shampoo, he was right, it did smell of strawberries, and began to scrub her head, her nails feeling good against her scalp. She watched the dirt washing away once more. The soap got into her eyes but she didn't care.

When the water began to run clean was when she realized what was happening. She hadn't cleaned herself that way in a long time, she hadn't been able to shower and relax without worry of Jimmy intruding and demanding sex in so long. She couldn't help but smile at that. It didn't feel good, but she knew it felt better than it was before.

And maybe that was okay for now.

– –

John paced the kitchen as he heard the water run, biting his lip and wringing his hands together. She was probably starving right? He hadn't seen her eat and he could see her ribs, but what to make? What if she was allergic, or didn't like what he made?

He opened the fridge, scanning it before he decided on a simple dish of chicken and rice would have to do. He seasoned the meat with salt and pepper, deciding to not go any further than that in case she couldn't eat it.

The rice was cooking, the water almost gone when he heard the door open. The steam from the shower billowed out and he saw the blonde girl walk out. She had taken the clothes he left for her, a pair of Donna's pants and an old shirt of his that was clean. He smiled, turning the oven down. He pulled a chair from the table out for her. "Please, sit." He said, and she slowly did as she was offered, she still

looked like she wanted to run but he couldn't blame her for that.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I'm making chicken and rice, Donna also gave us some food from the bakery." He put a plate of a warmed cinnamon roll in front of her with a glass of water. She didn't know if she could even eat all of that. She ate very little when she could. She watched his enthusiasm and wondered why he possibly cared that much about what she'd eat or not.

He watched her pick at the cinnamon roll, wanting her to take a bite. It would ease his worry if she could just eat even a bite and when the chicken was ready he placed a small bowl to her right. To his utter delight she took a bite of rice. She could only stomach very plain foods.

When she ate all she could, she shakily stood. "Thank you, John... I should go." He cocked his head in confusion.
"Go? Where are you going?" He asked.

"I can't intrude on your kindness any longer." She moved towards the door but he noticed her trembling, she was having trouble walking. He rushed to her side, taking her arm to hold her up.

"Rose..." he said, she wondered if Martha had told him her name. She didn't mind, in a strange way she liked the way it sounded coming from him. "You're hurt, badly, and whoever did this to you is out there, please don't leave. Please stay." He begged.

That was what made her stop, no one had ever asked her to stay. They had told her where she was going, where she would sit, when she would stay and when she could leave...

He asked her to stay.

– –

She did stay, in the end. She knew she had no where else to go and no one else to rely on. If she went crawling back to Jimmy she wasn't completely sure she'd even make it out alive. He was an angry man, and she knew his anger would boil over into even more violence than he already had towards her.

She was there for a week before John realized the true depth of her trauma. Night after night she would wake in cold sweats, screaming or crying, pleading an unseen attacker to stop. He would wake in the middle of the night and stop by his guest room to check on her, only to find her curled up in a tight little ball in the corner of the room. His heart ached for her, his soul cried out for her but he knew he could do nothing shy of just being there for her. He felt utterly useless, unable to help her when she cried. He wanted to hold her, to protect her from the cruel reality that she had known but he knew that wouldn't help her.

It was late one night when the snowstorm hit, he had heard about it on the news, but didn't expect it to be as bad as it was. They hadn't had a storm like this in some time.

He had been laying in bed when he saw his bedside clock's light flicker in and out before the thing shut off completely. He sat up, hearing the wind blowing outside harsh and cold. He shivered, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Had he not realized that the heat had been forcibly shut off during the night? He walked to the standing furnace and hovered his hand over the vents, feeling nothing but the chill from the large old windows. He sighed, he truly hated living in such an old house sometimes. Hardly anything worked on the best of days but when the storms hit it got bad quickly.

He pulled his robe over his nightclothes, then a pair of slippers before he padded into the kitchen, seeing everything electronic had shut off. He groaned, running a very tired hand through his hair. He was freezing to the very core, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back asleep. Not like this.

For many things in the apartment in the flat caused him annoyance but he was grateful for the gas stove top. It would at least work in conditions like this. He bent down, turning the gas on low enough to not be dangerous and struck a match, the fire and gas igniting and the flames circling the burner. He smiled, putting his hand a good distance over the fire to warm them up before turning the burner higher. He moved away, putting a kettle on and getting some tea. He hummed softly, watching the kettle for a moment before he went to get himself a pan, lighting another burner on. He could at least have a quick bite before going back to bed.

It wasn't much later that the kettle began to whistle, and he heard the soft footsteps of his house-guest joining him. He turned, seeing her wrapped tightly in the fluffy blanket from her bed, drowned by the pajamas she had borrowed from him. She was barefooted, so he knew she must be cold.

"I didn't mean to wake you up." He smiled sheepishly, looking down. "The power went out." She nodded, moving close to the stove as well to get some heat. He felt his heart beating faster at the sight of her wrapped in his clothes, so close to him but he wouldn't make any movements from his feelings. She needed to heal, not to be pursued by another man after what she had been through.

"You didn't wake me up, I couldn't sleep." She admitted, he poured himself a mug of boiling water, then her one. He let her choose from his collection of tea bags before she settled on a simple lemon one. He smiled, watching her movements.

"The power probably won't turn on for a while, it looks really bad out there." He said softly. "Would you like to sit and chat? I won't be able to sleep." He smiled when she gave a tiny nod. He handed her a piece of toast from the pan and let the burners run for a bit. They would at least get some heat from that.

She walked into the living room, curling up in the small red chair with the pillows. He set his cup down, going to the closet before returning with another large blanket for her. He draped it over her legs, seeing the slightly confused look in her eye. He didn't know what life they had saved her from but she was so skittish and quiet he knew it wasn't a good one. He sat back down, crossing his legs.

She was dead silent for a good twenty minutes, her eyes trained on the tea bag in her cup, and then on the falling snow outside. He, however, was watching her.

"Rose?" He asked, he was careful, not wanting to spook her or hurt her more. "If you don't mind me asking, and you can tell me if you do... what happened to you?" He sipped at his tea, hoping she wouldn't be upset. He watched her shoulders fall, as if she had let out a deep breath she didn't know she had been holding. He watched her bite her lip, staring at nothing in particular. She looked so sad.

"Do you really want to know that, John?" She asked, her eyes not moving from the spot she was looking at. He nodded,

"I won't make you tell me." He said, "But, you can if you want. This is your choice Rose, you have the right to say no." She looked surprised at that, had she not known that?

For another long pause, she said nothing. He didn't know if she had even heard him but she parted her lips, glancing up at him.

"I met a man when I was seventeen. He was an aspiring musician, no one would tell him his music was awful." She said softly, he stayed still, she was so soft spoken he was afraid he'd miss something. "My mum hated him, said he was no good but I didn't listen. I would stay the night at his place more than my own, I went to his shows, began skipping my classes just so I could see him." She sighed, "Then me and mum got into a fight when I turned eighteen. Real screaming match between us. We've always argued, but never like that." She leaned back, John nodded slightly to show he was listening.

"So I ran, she had a new boyfriend at the time and barely paid a minute of attention to me, I worked hard to buy my own food and to help pay rent so I decided to leave. I wasn't wanted there anyway John." He nodded. "I moved in with Jimmy, a place where she didn't even know the address, I thought I'd be safe." She trailed off, so she had been with an ex. She didn't speak, her mind off in her own memories and he sat up, placing his cup down on the coffee table.

"Rose?" He asked again. "What happened to you?" She flinched and he realized she must have been in true pain.

"He was an angry man, always accusing me of lying, cheating, stealing from him." She shivered. "And when he got mad he got physical. John you're a smart man, I don't think I have to tell you the rest." He looked down. Jimmy had done that to her. "He said I owed him, and he owned me." He wanted to kill the man, he wanted to see him pay for what he had done to her. "Maybe he was right."

John quickly stood, walking to the other side of the room, he held onto the bookshelf to keep himself from getting angrier. She watched him and when he turned he realized that she was afraid.

"He was wrong." He said softly, wanting to hold her. "He was wrong, Rose." But he knew words wouldn't make her believe.

– –

He was right, neither of them could fall back asleep, so he made another cup of tea for them and sat back down. He knew that her telling him that took a lot out of her so he changed the subject. He wanted to know about her, who she was, what life she wanted.

She was twenty-one, her favorite color was purple, and she wanted to travel the world but she had never gotten around to it. She was an only child, and her father had died when she was young. She didn't remember him at all. John hung onto every word she said.

She smiled, his voice was calming to her in a way she couldn't fully explain. She sipped at her second cup, biting her lip. "What about you? Any traumatic exes I should know of?" He noticed the more they talked, the more talkative she became. He loved it. John laughed, leaning back. The house was warming up from the gas stove a bit so he had shed his robe off and tossed it in the empty chair across from him.

"Oh not as bad, I can assure you that. But there was one." He smiled. He didn't feel any upset towards the girl, they just were so wrong for one another. She cocked her head, curious.

"A cliffhanger? Do tell." She asked, he made her want to be honest, made her want to speak whereas Jimmy made her want to be silent.

He crossed his arms, a grin on his lips. "Alright then Rose, imagine this," He loved hearing her voice, it was music to his ears and he'd do anything to keep her talking. "I'm young, twenty years, and I decide to go to the market one day, and as I'm walking, I meet a woman." He shook his head. "Not just any woman, a French model who's come over for a photo shoot in London." he laughed, but he noticed her smile had fallen. "I couldn't believe my eyes, and at the time I was a man of very poor taste so I ask her to dinner. To my shock she said yes."

Rose sat up, listening in. He had dated a French model? She looked down at herself, she wasn't anywhere near that impressive. "She's got a lot of political power from her family in France and my father adored her, I thought I had won the lottery with her..." He paused, "But she was materialistic, very flirty and very..." he sighed, biting his lip.

"Very?" She asked, and he nodded, clearing his throat.

"Well Rose, she feared commitment, in the kindest terms. I feared commitment to her. I didn't love her, and she wanted to get married to someone with more influence than I ever will have. All in all, we were awful." He shrugged. "Lovely woman, but we weren't meant to be. Last I heard she's getting married to senator. I don't keep up much."

Rose cocked her head, John had a much more interesting dating history than she would have given the shop keep credit for. He was a very attractive man, but she knew if he had history with someone like that, she'd never hold a candle to that. "I guess I stayed because she was fun in bed, truthfully and I thought all I wanted was a beautiful wife. Then I realized that beauty is only skin deep and there's so much more to a woman than all that." He shrugged, glancing up at her. He noticed she had a particular look in her eye but he couldn't read it. He was always so good at reading faces, but her expressions remained a mystery to him.

After a moment, she stood, he noticed she was much better off walking than she had been before, but she still limped occasionally. "I'll be at work tomorrow, but Donna, my sister, will come by to visit you alright?" He asked, not wanting her to be alone even more a moment. He worried deeply for her. She gave a small nod, she remembered the red headed woman who had stood up for her. She liked her.

John stood as well, noticing she still wore both blankets. "Oi... Rose?" he asked just before she left the room. "Thank you for telling me. I can't imagine how hard it is to talk about." he smiled, giving her a nod before he left to his room. He kept his door unlocked and open, just in case she needed anything at all.

As he tucked himself back into bed for the last few hours of sleep he could get, he heard her bedroom door close. He smiled, leaning back onto the pillows and sighing. She had at least talked to him. He hoped in time she'd come to see this as a friendship, but he also realized that he wasn't ready to let her go.

He turned on his side. He wanted to help her, to see her smile more, to see her get healthier and stronger. He wanted her to be his friend.

– –

Rose wasn't a weak woman. She never had been, she never would be. She knew that as she lay on top of the bed, listening to the silence of John's flat and the world around them. She hadn't often gone to sleep without hearing the sirens or Jimmy and his mates shouting at something. She found even though she was grateful for the silence that it still unsettled her. The room was icy cold, but she didn't mind it.

She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She couldn't smell the alcohol that Jimmy would spill all over the floor, or the iron scent of fresh blood. She supposed she could chalk those up to a win for her.

She turned to her side, glancing out the window at the snow, a street lamp illuminating the outside world. She sat up, drawing the plush throw blanket back over her shoulders. She shivered, hearing in the next room over John's light snores. She padded towards the window, wrapping her arms around her chest tightly. Rose looked out the large window, watching the flurries outside. She bit her lip, closing her eyes as she rest her forehead against the cool glass.

She was waiting to wake up, to realize that this was all a cruel dream. She couldn't allow herself to believe that she was safe, if she believed she was safe, she just knew it would all come crashing down. She didn't want to lose this safety, she couldn't. She couldn't wake up in Jimmy's bed again.

She didn't know how long she stood there, unable to tear her eyes away from the street, but she knew it had to be early in the morning. She could hear John getting up, she could hear the coffee pot and the shower running. She didn't want to go out and speak to him. She hadn't wanted to tell him her life story, and in a way she didn't, but the idea of talking seemed so daunting. It was a task she wasn't ready for,

She waited until she heard the jingle of house keys and the front door closing, then locking before she slipped from the guest room into the hallway. She couldn't shake her habit of trying to be as silent as possible.

She had heard him the night prior that his sister was supposed to come by that day to check on her. She felt like a child. She didn't need to be babysat, however she knew she was still a stranger to these people. Nothing more. They were kind souls but she was a stranger.

Rose moved to the bathroom, brushing her teeth, washing her face and brushing out her hair. It had been so long since she had been able to do that. The once matted locks now hung gently around her face. She had to cut her hair since it was truly a mess when she had arrived at John's, but the short style framed her face nicely. It fell just above her shoulders. She tied her hair as best she could in a simple top knot bun.

She walked to the kitchen, seeing the coffee pot full with a small note scribbled next to it and a pen on top.

'I hope you slept well, I'm sorry it was so cold.

The coffee is fresh, and you're welcome to anything in the kitchen.

Donna will be over later to check on you so you're not too lonely.

Have a great day Rose, I'll be back around 5.

John."

She gave a small smile, At least he had written a note, thought about her before he left, It warmed her heart to think he had done so. She poured herself a cup of coffee, holding it in her hand and leaning against the counter. She could see herself someday having a flat like this. Large ceilings where she'd hang art. Huge windows where she would look out and never again feel confined. She hadn't really allowed herself to think of her future much, she had always felt like it was pointless. She hadn't believed she had a future, now she allowed herself to think differently, if only for a moment.

Once she was finished with her cup, she cleaned it and put it away. She looked around the kitchen. It had been far too long since she had a proper kitchen to work in. While Jimmy had often gone out to eat with his mates, Rose had always had a love of cooking since she was a young girl.

She pulled out flour, finding a single packet of yeast. She looked through the drawers to find a bowl. She had often made bread with her mother when she had the time. It was their little activity. Rose could just about remember the recipe if she concentrated. She knew that baking bread wouldn't fix the wound in her heart, but it could distract her for a moment. And she figured that was enough.

– –

She didn't hear the door open. She was usually never so careless to not listen but she had allowed herself to get lost in her world. She was chopping a few cloves of garlic and rosemary, slicing them thin to sprinkle over top the bread. Her mother thought the loaf was divine with a good chicken dish but Rose just wanted a sense of home, if she even had a home.

She jumped when she saw the red headed woman, the knife slicing her pointer finger. She jerked back, hissing in pain with the garlic entering the wound.

Donna's eyes grew and she walked over quickly. "Oh Rose! I'm so sorry! I didn't think to say hello when I walked in." she saw Rose's confused and startled expression and she nodded. "Of course you probably don't remember, my name is Donna, I'm John's younger sister." She smiled, walking to the bathroom and quickly getting the first aid kit. She pulled a band-aid out, watching Rose wash the wound in the sink. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." Rose said quietly. John had told his sister that Rose had been talking more as of late, Donna hoped to see it, to have a connection with the girl. "I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention." Donna sighed, the girl had nothing in the world to apologize for but she knew that Rose would continue to.

She inhaled, smiling at the wonderful scent of the garlic and rosemary. "That smells amazing, what are you cooking?" She asked curiously, sitting down. She was nearing her fifth month of pregnancy, and she was already sore. She watched as Rose flinched, putting the band-aid over her cut. The blonde looked at the large mixing bowl that was covered with a damp hand towel.

"John said he didn't mind if I cooked, so I thought I'd make a loaf of bread. I'm sorry." She said, Donna couldn't help but notice how much she apologized. She didn't want to push the issue any further, she didn't know the girl. She pulled the paper bag that she had brought in onto the table. She had bought Rose a few basic things, shampoo, conditioner, tampons and pads, whatever she could think that the girl would need.

Donna bit her lip, her eyes trained on Rose, watching her clean the counters quickly. She realized she had probably startled her and made her uncomfortable. She stood, walking up to the counter and putting her hand down on the towel Rose used to clean. "You know, for a bakery owner, I've never actually made bread before." She said kindly. "And you seem to have a pretty good head on how to make it. Could you teach me?" She asked. She had, of course, made bread before, but Rose seemed to taken back by the request that Donna was happy she had asked.

"I don't have any more yeast..." She started but Donna just smiled.

"I'll call my husband to bring some by. He won't come in, just to drop it off. We can make as many loaves as you'd like?" She offered and her heart soared when Rose nodded.

– –

Donna returned with a bag of yeast that Jack had snagged from the bakery. John had been confused but he didn't question when Jack told him Rose wanted it. Anything for Rose.

She set it on the counter, watching Rose uncover her bowl of rising bread dough. "Um... we put flour on the counter so we can roll the dough out." She said quietly, taking a clear air tight container of flour from the pantry and sprinkling a heavy handful onto the clean counters. Donna stood close to her, watching her and hanging onto every word as if she didn't know.

She began to knead the dough slowly, putting her arms into it, Donna noticed she had pushed her sleeves up, the bruises fading, but the deep slices and wounds remaining. She wouldn't comment on it. Rose rolled the dough out to a long flat sheet, taking a bottle of olive oil and using her hand to sweep an even layer across the top. "What are you doing now?" Donna asked and Rose flinched.

"Oil, then we sprinkle the rosemary and garlic with some sea salt over the bread. After that we make a tight roll, like a swirl." She said, a bit more confident than she had been before. She could teach bread making, she knew how to do that and it required very little talking.

Donna watched happily, just thankful Rose was even speaking to her. She hadn't expected it, since the blonde had only met her once before that and in such a traumatic way. She smiled, Rose showing her how to roll the bread just right. She seemed to have a passion for it, which Donna was thankful. Her dear, darling idiot of a brother hardly cooked for himself and lived off of take-out. She found herself hoping Rose would help him get on the track of eating more home cooked meals.

Rose placed the roll in a heavily greased and floured metal baking pan, placing it in the oven and setting the timer before she slunk back into her seat, finally indulging in a cup of tea she had made earlier. "Do you like to bake Rose?" She finally asked, sitting across from her with her own cup of hot tea. Rose glanced up, a little nervous. She didn't like talking about herself.

"Oh, yeah. I do." She said softly, her thumb moving in circles on the heated ceramic of the mug. "Does John cook often? I haven't seen him cook yet." Donna laughed, shaking her head.

"My brother? Cook? I'm sure I'll see an alien invasion before I see that man cook a decent meal." She smiled. "Before you came into our lives, he'd come over round to mine at least three times a week for a dinner and take home a bag. That or he'll order food from a local shop. Truth be told, I don't think he even knows how to cook." She winked and Rose furrowed her brow. That made her sad to think about, she didn't fully know why though.

Donna sat up, a hand on her stomach. She had an awful bout of morning sickness that she wasn't fully over yet. "Perhaps you could help him? I'm sure he'd be thrilled that you're doing something you enjoy." Rose simply shook her head, and Donna cocked hers. "Rose?" She asked.

Rose pushed her cup away, feeling self conscious. She felt horrible for just staying with John when he clearly was putting his life on hold for her. Donna reached over to touch her hand but Rose flinched, she felt worse.

"I can't make John ignore his life to take care of me forever." She said, biting her lip. "He's done so much for me, you have too. I'm just a stranger Donna. I can't impose on him anymore." She wanted to run, to hide but she knew she had nowhere to go.

Donna sighed, standing up and moving towards her. She enveloped the blonde in a loose and comforting hug, not worried when Rose first tried to move away from the unexpected touch. She felt the girl stiffen, but slowly relax in the hug. She pulled away, moving her chair closer and taking Rose's hand into her own two. "Rose," She smiled, reaching up and pushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear, her soon-to-be motherly instincts telling her to care for this girl.

"My brother doesn't care about much." She said quietly, not wanting to frighten Rose with speaking too loud. Martha had told her to try to move slowly and speak softly. "He goes to work at the bakery, he get himself supper and he sits at home and reads until he goes to bed only to do it all again tomorrow." She explained to her. Rose didn't see why any of this mattered.

"What I'm trying to say," Donna continued, "Is that you're doing much more good for him and his life than you realize. I know you have your own issues, and I know those have left a horrible mark on you my dear. You can't shut him out though. You help each other." She said, squeezing her hand lightly. "So try to not think of yourself as a burden Rose, you are becoming part of the family." She smiled.

She stood, taking her cup to the sink before turning with a grin on her face, "Now I believe I have some yeast that needs to be made into bread. Would you want to help?" She asked, Rose could only nod.

– –

John was exhausted. He didn't sleep a wink the night before, and his customers had obviously gotten up on the same side of the bed he had, as a good majority of people were short tempered and snippy. He also realized his own attitude wasn't helping the issue. He had spilled a cup of hot coffee on himself that morning and his white shirt was stained, but the black apron he had on thankfully covered the mark.

He glanced up at the clock, seeing he had nearly two hours left in his day before he could shut the place down and call it a day. He knew Donna wouldn't mind if he came back early, but he wanted to give Rose space to breath.

He sighed, thinking of the blonde for just a moment. He so badly wanted to see her smile, to see her flourish from the abuse she had been subject to but he knew he couldn't force her to heal when she was clearly not ready to do so. He bit his lower lip, looking at the shelves of pastries that lined the glass case keeping him and their guests separated.

The bell rang, and he looked up, seeing a dark haired man with a noticeable scar across his face. Her sat up, straightening his apron and giving a small smile. "Welcome in." He said, watching the man look around but he seemed less than interested in the pastries offered. "Can I help you?" John asked, keeping his air of polite but distant. The man nodded, looking up at him and John could tell the wound was rather fresh.

"Yeah, in fact I do need help." He said, John could smell the unmistakable scent of alcohol wafting off of his skin and breath. He did his best to not grimace at the scent. "See I'm looking for someone who knows this place pretty well, you understand?" John nodded, cocking his head. The dark haired male looked him up and down before smiling. "Pretty little blonde thing, probably looks like she's had a nasty row. Seen her?" He asked and John stiffened.

"Can't say I have, mate." John said sharply. He didn't' know, and he wouldn't make assumptions on a man he didn't know but he had a violent feeling this was Rose's Jimmy Stone. "We have a lot of customers that come in and out, but I haven't seen anyone matching that description." He glanced down and felt sick, he could see the obvious outline of a knife in the man's pocket through his near skin tight jeans. He knew this was Jimmy.

The man shook his head, but that disgraceful smile didn't leave. "Now that's a damn shame there... John." He said, looking at John's name tag. "See, she's my girlfriend and yesterday after going to the store she fell down the stairs, you can understand I'm worried about her, right?" He asked, and John nodded, not wanting to let a single thing slip. "She liked your cinnamon buns, so she might head this way, you know?" He grinned and John looked away.

"I'm sure I understand, but like I said, I haven't seen anyone like that come in this way, nor has any of my staff." John retorted and Jimmy stepped away.

"Damn, I want to bring my girl home, take care of her." Jimmy shrugged. "You see her, you call me, got it? Do a fellow that favor, would you?" He took a napkin and wrote his phone number on it in sloppy and drunken scrawl with the name Jimmy Stone under it before sliding it over to John. "I hope to hear from you John. I'd like to make sure my girl doesn't get away like that again." John felt sickened by his words.

Jimmy slunk back into the icy snow outside, going from business to business to ask about her. John knew no one would talk, he had already made his calls to let them know that if anyone came looking for the blonde, they had not seen her and didn't know who she was.

He looked down at his hands when another customer walked up, seeing his knuckles almost white from the grip he had on the counter. He let himself breathe, smiling at the elderly woman wanting a cup of hot tea and a scone. He wanted to get home to Rose, to make sure she was still safe. He knew Donna or Jack would call if anything happened but he felt disgusted by the interaction he had with the abusive prat. He shoved the napkin in his pocket, planning on telling Jack about the encounter so he could start going with Donna when she came by the flat. He didn't want his sister in a dangerous situation. (Nor did he want Rose to ever deal with that monster again, but he tried his best to push his anger aside. She didn't need him to fight his battles for her. Even if he wanted to.)

He tried to not dwell on the visit any further. He would warn Jack, he would keep his sister and the blonde safe. He knew he would.

– –

John finished up cleaning for the day, even more exhausted than he was two hours prior. He locked the door tight, checking the back door, then the windows. He then double checked everything. He couldn't shake the feeling of worry that seeped into his bones after his interaction with Jimmy Stone. He couldn't fathom how Rose had been with him for as long as she had. He didn't want to think on that.

He pulled his scarf tightly around his neck to warm up, shivering at the cold. He was running later than he had said in his note that morning, the time on his watch saying it was closer to six than five but he had taken the extra time to calm down and check everything over.

He walked home as he always did, but took the time to look around him at his surroundings, making sure that he wasn't being followed. He doubted he was, but a man could never be too careful. When he was sure he was alone in his walk, he quickly made his way back to the flat he called home.

The first thing that hit him was the overwhelming scent of bread. It wafted through the house, making him smile. He pulled his coat off and closed the door, kicking his shoes off as he looked around him. "Rose? Donna?" He called, hearing a soft melody of music playing from the kitchen and the chatter of two women talking. He smiled happily, realizing that mean that Rose was actually talking to Donna. He was given no response, but he didn't mind. He hung his coat on a hanger in his hallway closet and walking into the warmth of the flat.

He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes huge as he saw damn near ten loaves of bread on the tables and counters. "I didn't realize that we were opening a bakery here." he laughed, Donna and Rose turned, Donna smiled but Rose did not. He realized that perhaps he had startled her. "It smells wonderful." He said quickly, not wanting to upset her when she finally had opened up to him.

Donna stepped back. "Well welcome home!" She said, mischief in her tone.

"You and Rose have been busy." He grinned, picking up a slice of what smelled to be cinnamon swirl bread. "It looks fantastic, Donna, did you teach-" he was quickly cut off by Donna coughing.

"Yes, Rose taught me how to make bread today, isn't that wonderful?" She asked,m glaring at him while Rose busied herself with wrapping a few loaves in parchment paper. He nodded slowly.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, that's brilliant." He smiled.

While Rose cleaned up, John ushered Donna into his room, closing the door. "I saw that prat, Jimmy Stone." he growled, Donna rose a brow but he sighed. "Rose told me last night, when the power shut off."

"The power shut off?" Donna asked, smiling and shaking her head. "John I've told you this flat was going to cost you an arm and a leg, you've been losing power far too often." He ran a tired hand over his face and groaned.
"That isn't the point." He sighed, staring her down until she fell silent. His baby sister, he adored her but on occasion she annoyed him greatly.

She sat down on his bed, a hand on her ballooned stomach. "Who is Jimmy Stone then?" She asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door.
"He's the man that hurt her Donna." He whispered, afraid Rose would overhear. He watched as Donna's eyes grew large.

"You ran into the -"

"Shhh!" he hissed, raising his hands. "I don't want her to find out!" Donna stared, dumbfounded. He knew she thought he was an idiot. He probably was, given the situation, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Rose that Jimmy had been there looking for her. She had just begun to trust him, and he was terrified he would lose her faith in her safety at the flat, her safety with him, if she were to find out. He sat down beside her, his head in his hands as he groaned. He felt her hand rubbing his back. "He just came into the shop Donna and was looking for her. He said he didn't want his girl to get away from him again. Just seeing that man made me want to get sick." He said softly.

She sighed, leaning forward. She knew her brother well enough to know he was already well within his head about the whole matter.

"You've got to tell her..." She trailed off. "John she has a right to know."

"I can't." Her brother whispered, biting his lower lip just a moment, tugging on it with his teeth.

"Why not?" She asked and he simply shook his head.

"If I tell her that the man who abused her and almost killed her came into the shop looking for her, she'll never feel safe again. I just got her talking to me, I can't risk it." He paused, he didn't know why he was so worried about what she thought. He supposed he did care for her, as a friend at least. He wanted to keep her safe, but deep in his heart, he knew he wanted to be the one to keep her safe.

– –

Donna left after their conversation. She hadn't known what to say, how to comfort her brother who so clearly was struggling with his emotions.

She drove home in the snow, silence enveloping her as she was lost in thought. She didn't understand what had driven John to feel such a compelling need to protect the girl they had found in the snow, but she found herself happy that he had. She hadn't seen her brother like this in some time.

He had dated a few women before of course, and had seemed moderately happy with them. His last relationship had put him through the wringer and she had worried it would be some time before he would trust again with his heart.

She had watched how he spoke to Rose, the softness in his voice, the care and desperate need to protect that was evident in every word.

Donna just hoped John knew what he was doing.

– –

After John had gotten home, he had decided to take a shower. He left Rose to her own devices, knowing she was exhausted socially after spending the day with his talkative sister.

Rose busied herself in the kitchen, feeling a great sense of comfort there when she saw John's wallet on the table. She reached over, planning on putting it back in his coat pocket so he wouldn't forget it. He had a habit of forgetting things around the flat and she didn't want him to have to run back during a shift. She felt a card slip out from one of the small pockets in it and she picked it up, curiously turning it over in her fingers.

Her blood ran cold as her eyes scanned over the number scribbled on the back.

John was talking to Jimmy Stone.

– –

– –

– –

That is all for chapter one! I was debating on if I should make this into a super long one-shot or a multi-chapter fic but I think it would work better as a multi-chapter.

I really hoped you enjoyed this, I usually don't write such dark fanfictions, but as I said in the opening, some stuff to work though. Tenrose is endgame here, but I really want to work through Rose's trauma before diving headfirst into the ship.

Tell me what you think of chapter one!

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to message me! I will write more of this as soon as I can, I really have been enjoying the universe.