So sorry for the strange space issues - the doc manager is being fussy.

0

"Once upon a time, the Doctor abandoned a very young, very confused

and still – apparently – very naive girl in a reality known as Pete's World,

not even with a goodbye and with a clone she was supposed to substitute

for the man she loved. They worked things out eventually, through

much crying and screaming, before the girl was swept through time by a

generated temporal storm.

Luckily, this girl had confiscated a Vortex Manipulator earlier that day

and had yet to send it in for cataloguing. But the Manipulator was on the

fritz. It took… years to even find the right kind of metals to shape into the

right kind of tools to shape the right kind of pieces in the 10th century.

During that period, this girl had noticed something. Something she'd have

been overjoyed with if the Doctor had kept the one and only promise the

girl had dared extract from him. She wasn't aging. Decades passed as she

worked on the Manipulator and she looked as fresh and young as she had

the day she'd met the Doctor. She was distraught for years.

'I've only got this one heart and this one life. We could grow old together,'

echoed in her mind daily.

She'd been promised something only to have it yanked away and to discover

that it was all an unintentional lie anyway. But then, one day in the early

11th century, she realized that if she never got the Manipulator working,

she could just take the slow path and meet up with her James. They'd

have more in common then, anyway, with the weight of time – or the

memory of it – on their shoulders.

But she did get the Manipulator working, 120 odd years before her original

present. She used it to skip forward, be with her lover again sooner, but the

Manipulator short circuited mid-jump and the girl ended up five years into

her original future. Her family had moved on, believing she'd died in that

storm… and so had her love.

The girl had worked forever to find a way back to her Doctor, got a

consolation prize that turned into a gift, only to find that James didn't

have her same fortitude.

She didn't know whether it was his human side or if he really didn't love her as

deeply as she did him, but whatever it was, he'd married two years after the girl's

disappearance.

The girl watched them from a distance and they were happy: him, his wife and

their two children. Now, the girl was many things, but she wasn't a home wrecker

(and her heart hid a secret fear that the wife would win out – and not

because he'd already married her and fathered children). So she walked away

without looking back.

She tried not to think about it. She did. But the curse of living forever alone comes

with the curse of remembering it all.

An eidetic memory – the longer the life, the longer the memories, the girl supposes.

The great equalizer.

After allowing one day to mourn, the girl started gathering supplies. Much

better ones this time, untainted by the impurities of the past. She fixed the

Manipulator – correctly this time – and jumped back to the point where

she was first sucked into Pete's World. She slipped into her original reality

unnoticed and went in search of one of only a handful of people who'd never

given up on her – and the only one who could understand what it was like

to be left behind, forgotten, abandoned like so much rubbish. Like

everything had no meaning.

She'd like to start again. And she needs help, a stabilizing force in her life. But

more than that, she'd like to get back the only other man who'd ever truly known

her, the only other man who could rival the Doctor in her affections."

The stars helped her to fade away. Sometimes. This was not one of those times. It's been three months since she'd crossed space, time and non-space to find Jack. And two and a half months since they'd started planet-hopping, started running from… everything. Life's dragged them down, both together, after centuries of loneliness and pain. So they run.

But tonight, tonight, the demons that dogged her steps were swifter than she. Tonight, she would allow herself to wallow, for the last time. Then-

"Ahhh!"

Jack squeezed his arm around Rose's shoulders as he laughed. "Being melancholy again, honey?"

Rose scoffed and punched Jack's arm. "The last time someone snuck up on me like that-"

"They ended up dead, yeah, yeah." Jack rolled his eyes and Rose sneered.

Minutes of companionable silence passed before, "What do you mean, again?"

Jack smirked. "It's not overt, mostly, usually just barely peeking through the mask you keep on (not overly fond of that by the way) and only visible to those who know you so well. It's overwhelming you now, though. So what is it?"

Rose picked at a hangnail with her teeth, giving more focus to the activity than it needed. She yanked off the bit of skin and winced with the sting, then watched as the wound sealed itself up, leaving not even a scar behind.

"Don't you ever wish that you could keep the scars?"

Eyebrows winging up, Jack asked, nonplussed, "Pardon?"

Rolling up her sleeve, Rose held her arm up – the arm that had nearly been severed by that Triadelphin only the day before – and flexed the reattached tendons and muscles for Jack to see.

"Don't you wish that we could still at least scar? A little something to remind us that we're still human even as we are so very super human, now?"

Jack reached out to caress the flawless skin that had been split. His calloused fingers, as gentle as she remembered them when he was her devil-may-care flyboy, sent shivers down her too long neglected body and she sighed in regret. Jack smiled; not the flirty one or the 'come hither' one; just a gentle, loving smile. The only one he ever gave Rose after their initial introduction. Her smile. They'd never go there. It'd be too intense and both would feel it would betray-

"I'd reckon if we kept each and every scar from every altercation, we'd somewhat resemble a puzzle that had been put together wrong; puzzle pieces mashed up against other pieces, just barely fitting and puckering around the edges. Not very attractive at all, wouldn't you say?"

The left side of Rose's mouth twitched up, just a bit, in half-hearted amusement. "I'm serious, Jack."

A hefty sigh fell from Jack's lips, lifting his shoulders high and stretching his shirt taught. He wound his fingers through Rose's and then rearranged himself on the ledge of the roof they were on, feet pressing into the small wall that protruded outward and head resting in Rose's lap. Settled, he turned his gaze up before turning it outward again and whispered, "So am I."

They were quiet for a moment, looking out over the capital city of Kantanmawr from 20,000 feet in the air. It was gorgeous, the view, and it was treacherous. They were balanced precariously and the buildings of a city that half floated above its center were never extraordinarily still.

The winds up so high were gales and keeping one's balance with all that was… a skill. It was quite illegal to venture out onto the tops of the buildings. Rose and Jack had never been troubled with legality anyway, and doubly so now that they've lived so very long.

The spell of tranquility snapped when Jack said, "I imagine living as long as we have and then being so scarred would make things immeasurably worse. Don't you?"

Rose pondered the question for the barest second, fingers tickling Jack's scalp as they ran through his hair. "I imagine I wouldn't mind. I'm tired of looking at this face."

Jack squeezed her hand and kissed it, before stating, "It's a rather lovely face and in the time we've found each other again, not once has it been hit. I'd like to assault those who have done so – if I could reach back to the other reality – with great vigor."

"It reminds me of him."

Jack winced. They'd stopped a couple of inept smugglers the night before, nothing to write home about and really beneath their talents, but in their haul was an ancient Roman statue of Fortuna. A gorgeous piece and one that had been an exact replica of Rose. Done by the Doctor; the Doctor, who abandoned Rose more than once.

Sitting up, Jack pulled Rose into his embrace, holding her close.

"I thought we'd decided to forget about the past, about the Doctor, to move on?"

"We did. But we were swamped with the feelings today. And we are retiring the royal we." Jack smirked lightly, then focused as the air around them became serious once again. "I felt such… uncontrollable rage, when I saw that statue. An ever present feeling that I couldn't hold back this time. It was a tidal wave, washing over me, drowning me, and it took everything I had not to blow the damn thing to pieces."

Rose turned and wrapped her arms around Jack's torso, snuggling in as she continued, "And then I just felt… desolate. Forgotten, like that old church we found on the Deloryss colony; all crumbled rock and peeling paint, dirt strewn floors… my heart is dirt strewn, Jack."

A snort escaped from him before he could stop it and he buried his face in Rose's long, luxuriously curled hair. The laughter trickled out of him, in squeaks, in loud guffaws, his shoulders shaking.

Rose hit him once, twice, hard and growled fiercely, "It's not funny!" A few of her own giggles mingled with Jack's, amused and melancholy in equal measure.

"I know, I know! But it's not every day that a broken heart is described as 'dirt strewn'. I couldn't help it. You've become quite the melodramatic."

Rose allowed a haunted, bitterly sweet smile to grace her face, beautifying it in a way sorrow should never do. In a way, in grief, Rose was even more beautiful than in joy. Her face seemed to have been made for it and, if her face was made for it, then Rose might have been destined for it. Jack wasn't going to dwell on that.

"Aren't we allowed, Jack, to be overly dramatic, even gothic, at times? At our age? After all we've seen and done? And if not us, then who?"

Smiling, Jack acknowledged, "You're very right."

They looked out, beyond the half dozen or so other floating buildings, down to the grounded ones, watching the lights flickering and dance in the deep of night. Talk was done, deep thoughts tucked away, as they pondered their existence and their pain, their grievances; allowed themselves to feel it, just for one more night, before filing them away and putting the masks back on.

They stayed there, until the sun rose and bathed the city in a new day. And then, it was time to move on.

1

The Doctor scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue as he tried (and failed, but he was striking that from the official record) to solder two console wires together that the Old Girl was insisting did not belong together, when he was hit with an unexpected and intense dizzy spell. The sonic smacked loudly onto the glass floor after it fell from his fingers, followed by the Doctor himself as he tripped over his own feet, room spinning mercilessly. He barely managed to catch himself before his forehead smacked viciously into the center console and lowered himself slowly to the floor.

Eyes closed and body hunched over, the Doctor pressed his forehead to the floor. The coolness seeped up into his skin, allowing the Doctor to hear the soft hums of concern from his ship. As swiftly as the attack had come, it fled, leaving the Doctor with a sweaty brow and a slightly nauseous stomach. Groaning, he pulled himself up, unfolded his legs, and leaned gently against the seat. Even that little bit of movement made his stomach nearly revolt. He rested his head back and closed his eyes.

The TARDIS hummed in question, keeping low tones to not aggravate the Doctor's head. Smiling, the Doctor murmured, "I don't know, sexy. Let me think on it."

"Who are you talking to you?"

The loud, unexpected voice that echoed throughout the control room made the Doctor wince. Slightly snappy, he said, "Do you think you can turn the volume down on that thing you call a mouth?"

Silence ensued and the Doctor concluded that his newly collected ginger had retreated to her room. He breathed in deeply and let it out, then breathed in again – only to get a subtle whiff of lavender, Amy's preferred scent. Eyes popping open in puzzlement, the Doctor jumped when he came face to angry scowl with Amy.

"Pardon me, Doctor?"

Her brash tone reverberated inside his skull, aggravating the abating dizziness, and the Doctor winced again; both in fear of the agony surely to come and in his treatment of the girl; he could see the hurt she was trying to hide in her eyes.

Consternation showing on his face, the Doctor murmured, "I had a dizzy spell and I still feel a bit nauseated. Your voice isn't helping the pain."

It was as close to an apology as Amy was going to get and the Doctor could see she knew it. Her face softened, as did her voice, as she asked, "Would you like some tea?"

Beaming, the Doctor exclaimed, "Brilliant!" He flinched as his head jogged a bit and decided it would be prudent (but never wise, don't let anyone ever accuse the Doctor of being wise!) to settle down a bit. He slid slowly to the side, settling on the floor at the foot of the jump seat, mumbling, "I'll be just here."

He could hear Amy as she shuffled through the control room and out the door and was thankful. He didn't particularly feel like company at the moment.

Amy hummed to herself as she readied the Doctor's tea: two lumps of sugar, a spot of milk and a dollop of clotted cream dropped on top. Sweet, too sweet for her, but perfect for the Doctor.

At least he doesn't want fish finger sprinkles on top.

Nose wrinkled in distaste, Amy settled the mug on the counter. Hands free, she ventured to the oddly placed mirror across from fridge and fluffed her hair, straightened her miniskirt and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. She eyed her makeup critically, but decided against going to her room and freshening it up. Too obvious.

Nodding to herself, she determined that she was good to go, picked up the mug and left for the Doctor.

He knows what happened to him, he just can't determine where in his timeline it had done. Which in and of itself would be a good thing if not for the intensity of the disorientation. Small things, things he can't determine that were changed, usually mean nothing bad will happen. Vertigo on the scale he'd just suffered usually means something big, something potentially paradoxical will/is/has occurred. Very not good.

The soft fall of steps alerted the Doctor to Amy's entrance and he smiled as his nose caught out the scent of tea, just like he liked it. His smile faltered just slightly as he noticed the change in Amy's attire, buttons missing their holes and whatnot, and he cringed inside.

Why do I always have to be so blasted charming and handsome? Rose, Reinette, Martha, Amy…

The Doctor paused as he reached out for the mug, inspiring a confused moue to sprawl across Amy's face. She wiggled the tea precariously, liquid sloshing on the sides and almost-but-not-quite ever making it over the edge. He scowled and nabbed the mug, holding it close and breathing in the tannins.

Rose. Even after all that had happened, he could never regret her falling for him… or he her. Guilt slithered into him, wrapping around his hearts and squeezing. He should never have lumped her in with the other three. Never. He allowed himself to contemplate Rose for a few more precious, stolen moments, before packing the memories of her neatly and lovingly into a velvet-lined trunk in his mind and sliding the trunk as far back as it would go. It wasn't even particularly hard, this go 'round. New face, new life, new friends.

"Doctor?"

Switching back to reality, the Doctor swiveled his eyes toward Amy. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were all right, now."

"Oh, fine, fine. Nothing too bad, just a bit of Time Lord stuff. Happened to the best of us and anyway, you wouldn't understand."

Amy eyed him shrewdly (Like Rose, this one, very observant, a traitorous voice whispered) before she decided to let it slide and nodded. As he turned away, the Doctor swigged his tea, relishing the heat as it washed away all thoughts of old companions.

I've said goodbye. Let that be that.

"Now! Where we off to?"

"No-where. You said you needed to fiddle-daddle with the equipment before we left the vortex."

Mug empty, the Doctor tossed it toward Amy, who scrambled a bit before she caught it in her arms. Glaring at the Doctor, she smacked him one atop the head, before setting the offending object on the seat behind her.

Grinning, the Doctor spun about and started pushing buttons (mostly for show, but he'd never let on) and pushed the worry of strangulated timelines behind him. Until he saw a reaper, he'd reserve judgment.

"I know! How about a museum? (She won't let me fix her anyway)."

Amy stomped her foot and said, "You promised me a planet!"

"Hey! I gave you a star whale city! And museums just happen to be on planets! Well, most of them."

Amy flopped onto the jumpseat, arms crossed and glower firmly in place. She forgot to take into account the presence of the mug and rolled right off and onto the floor, though, landing in an embarrassed and undignified heap.

Snorting, the Doctor flicked one more switch, swiveled a few more dials and commented, "Oooh, look! We're about to land in the Delirium Archive, in the 171st century. Well – an asteroid is kind of a part of a once long ago planet. So there you go!" He saw Amy start to sit up, an unappeased look gracing her face. "Oh no, don't get up. You've got the best seat in the house!"

2

The music blared and the lights strobed, blasting Rose's senses as she stepped through the doors. She grimaced in displeasure as her eyes roved the shadowy room, seeking out her traveling companion. She spotted him nearly immediately, dark hair gleaming in the intermittent light. A sharp whistle split the atmosphere and all talking ceased. Jack – along with the rest of the crowd - glanced up at Rose. Most faces were surprised or irritated, but Rose had eyes only for the exasperated captain currently leaning into the personal space of a humanoid creature of indiscriminate gender.

Rose quirked her lips and arched a brow, shrugging unconcernedly. She then indicated the exit with a quick jerk of her head before turning and striding out the door, leaving the stench of ale and sweat and sex behind. She made her way to Paralax Primus' only late-night café and ordered a coffee and cinnamon bun, legs relaxed on the seat opposite in the booth while waiting for Jack.

As a slightly annoyed Jack sat across from Rose, arms crossed and an unimpressed look upon his face, she merely smiled and reached back into her pack, pulling out a box with odd – but familiar – symbols scrawled across it. She passed it over to Jack to examine and he did so, running his fingers along the grooves of the words, turning it end over end.

"Do you know what this is?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Nope. Figured you could tell me. All my knowledge – except what I got from my studies after Canary Wharf and after the 27 planets but before the time storm – is a thousand years of Earth history and science. Nothing so advanced, you should know that."

Jack nudged Rose in the side with his boot. "You're so smart I forget sometimes."

She rolled her eyes and grimaced. "Flattery will get you nowhere. What is it?"

"Spoil sport." She lifted an apathetic brow. "Fine, fine! It's a Home Box, from a ship."

Rose pondered for a moment. "So it… what, beams all the flight data home?"

Jack laughed and nodded. "Close. The box actually flies home, usually after a crash. But why does it have the Doctor's very dead language on it? Have you seen the data?"

"Jack, I already admitted to not knowing what it was. Do you really think I'd have gotten any information out of something I didn't know had information?"

"…right. Sorry. Where'd you get it, anyway?"

"It seems the box was programmed to fly to me, instead of home. Found it sitting outside the windowsill of my very high, very inaccessible hotel room a bit ago."

Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really…" He paused, then leaned forward and ran his finger along the engraved symbols once more. "I wish we knew what it said."

Rose took the box back and turned it the other way around. She pointed at the second symbol and said, "See this? Before I disappeared, James had been teaching me his language. Just for fun, you know, a way to speak in front of other people (mum and dad, mainly) and never ever fear that they'd be able to guess what we were saying. Also – good and fun way to annoy. Anyway, this symbol means 'bad wolf'. Approximately."

Jack's eyes grew wide as he looked at the symbol and then at Rose. "Do you think… I mean, it flew directly to you. Are you ready to-"

"It's not from him, Jack. He's never called me Bad Wolf. Bad memories, fear or something, I don't know. In any case, the Doctor doesn't know I'm back in this universe and I would – frankly – like to keep it that way for as long as possible. No, the way I see it, either it was me who put it there or…"

Jack waited, before completing the ominous words, "Or someone else did. Which begs the questions: who, why and are they friendly?"

Rose nodded as she caressed each symbol, allowing nostalgia to creep in for a brief moment. "We often used his language as a sort of map, for surprise dates and the like. When he didn't want me to know where he wanted to meet me, he'd put the messages in coordinates and I'd have to navigate my way…" She trailed off and Jack put a comforting hand over hers, stopping her fingers. Sighing, she continued, "I don't know what the other one means."

Nodding, he stuck his free hand out and Rose dropped the box into it. He turned it over and located the ports for external cable hookup.

"We need to get the data off this box, see why the interest. You got a port connector on your manipulator?"

Rose flashed her wide, tooth-and-tongue grin and then said, smugly and tauntingly, "Mine's got Bluetooth."

Jack sent Rose a non-expression and intoned, "That's just not fair."

"Direct your flirting in the right direction and you may get discounts on cool stuff."

Leering and waggling his eyebrows, Jack growled, "Oh, I get discounts on the coolest 'stuff'."

"You're just... that's- you need a mum!"

Jack threw his head back and laughed. Seconds later, Rose's hearty chuckles joined him and the two filled the silence of the café with much needed life. The lone waitress scowled in their direction, flipping a page in her novel pointedly. This set them off harder and it was a fair few minutes later that, calmed and focused once more, Rose pulled out her sleek, sonic cylinder and scanned the box. After acquiring the Home Box's data core designation, she turned the sonic on her manipulator and started to program the Bluetooth.

As the devices interfaced, Jack looked closer at her sonic, face scrunched in curiosity. He poked at it with his finger, clearly wanting to feel, but Rose blocked the move with her elbow, giving him a displeased face.

"You know, you never did tell me how that thing works. Where are all the dials and switches and other sticky-outy parts that the Doctor's has?"

Rose sent a sly look Jack's way and snarked, "The Doctor has got a bit fancy with his tool, now, hasn't he?"

Jack snorted, amusement bubbling under the surface, as he continued to stare covetously.

"It's got a telepathic interface. Anything and everything his has, so mine does and more besides. It's got all the capabilities inside and I just think on what I want it to do. And it does it."

"Neat-o! Can I-"

Rose scowled and swiftly popped the sonic back into the pocket of her leather vest. "It's mapped onto my brain. Won't work with anyone else."

Jack shook his head gently at her. "Just like the Doctor; not willing to share all your fancy toys."

Silence fell after that and Jack cringed. He turned to look at Rose. She was unmoving, poised over her manipulator controls, about ready to interface with the Home Box. Her face was the picture of agony. When she noticed Jack's attention, her mask fell promptly into place, smile wide and bright and fake. She watched as Jack paused, prepared to apologize, and then change his mind.

Rose let out her caged breath and continued on with the transfer, continuing Jack's pretense that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The upload completed within a few seconds and Rose pushed play. They watched as static projected from the holographic viewer, showing erratic flashes of images – men in military regalia and, surprisingly, glimpses of a woman in a black silk dress and obscenely high heels. The words were interrupted by static, them and the pieces of imagery they'd gotten making no sense. Rose fast forwarded through the clips, finally coming to the ending. There was a grinding noise like stuck gears and shouts, startling its viewers, before diagnostic data and coordinates flashed across the screen and everything went blank.

"Well," Jack uttered, "the warp engines phase shifted, so we know the crash wasn't accidental." The pair was silent for a moment as Jack sipped Rose's coffee and devoured her bun, pointedly ignoring her glare. When he was satisfied, he turned to his friend with a roguish smile and drawled, "What are we waitin' for, darlin'?"

A grim excitement threaded his tone, a feeling that matched Rose's exactly.

3

After a few hours of rest ("Actual rest, Jack, not the gymnastics you call 'sleeping!'") and gathering the little belongings they allowed themselves, Rose and Jack programmed the coordinates into their manipulators and made the time/space jump. Rose landed with a supreme amount of elegance and laughed as she watched Jack, as always, stumble and collapse to his knees.

Glaring, he mumbled, "This thing is old you know, been through more than the most sturdy auto could ever survive. Shaky landings aside, the old girl's still got it."

"Whatever you say, Jack." Rose winked before turning to access her manipulator's geographic network and assessing their landing spot. "We've landed a little off from the crash site. Bit of a track ahead of us. Think you can handle that, graceful gazelle?"

Striking out like a snake, Rose gripped Jack's biceps and yanked. Jack hissed playfully as Rose cheerfully pulled him to his feet, released him and set off in their intended direction. Jack dusted himself off and jogged a bit to catch up, lacing his fingers through hers and swinging their arms. They walked that way a few more paces before Jack voiced the thoughts he'd had on his mind since the night before.

"Rose, just to point out… if it had been you who sent, well, you the message, don't you think that you'd have done something to prevent…everything that's jaded you?"

Contemplation of her time as the Bad Wolf was never a favorite past time of Rose's, but this was something she'd already thought on, for ages in Pete's World, and then some in her original reality. With complete confidence, she stated, "No. Everything lain out with Bad Wolf warnings were for life and universe threatening trouble. Power like that… it's not to be used for… trivialities."

"Rose-"

She raised her hand to stop Jack's words. "To me it's… I know it's not, but when I was that cosmic power… I can remember a lot of stuff now, Jack, things I saw through time and space and it was… messing with that many timelines – over two realities, especially – would have been difficult enough to do without destroying a timeline or two, even with all that power. It was best to stick with the vital stuff. But it wasn't me, Jack."

Jack digested this for a moment before he acknowledged the rightness of Rose's argument and dropped the subject. Rose felt a wave of relief pass over her.

3.1

The brief thought – as she gazed out at the wonderfully plush landscape - that this was almost like old times with him flitted to the forefront of Rose's mind, but she forced it back, murmuring to herself, "Over and done and changed and never the same."

"What was that, honey?"

Rose shook herself, dragging her eyes away from the twining, leaning trees and dead leaves scattered over the forest floor and looked back at Jack. "Nothing, just… being odd again, I guess."

Smiling that dimple smile, Jack reacted: "When do you ever stop?"

Laughing, Rose shot back, "You're one to talk!"

Narrowed eyes were Rose's only warning before Jack's arm shot out and pushed her into a tree. "Hey! Arse!"

"Oh, quit whining. It didn't hurt."

Rose pouted as she rubbed her shoulder, mumbling, "It's the principle of the thing."

Chuckling, Jack reached over and pulled Rose to him and they walked like that for some time in silence. Absolute. Silence.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose caught Jack glancing around uneasily more than once, an edgy look on his face. "It's… a bit quiet."

"Noticed that the moment we got here, yeah? Too quiet. I think this place is abandoned."

"And where are we exactly?"

"This is the 51st century. Shouldn't you know?"

Jack cast an unimpressed look at Rose's cheeky grin and drawled, "I'll have you know that the average 51st century human knows the names of about three planets other than Earth."

"OOOOOooooo," Rose teased, "But the universe knows Captain Jack is anything but ordinary."

"Just so you know," he smirked. "Seriously, though, never been here before in my life. Earth didn't really venture this far east in the universe before or during my time. It was more of a 'Go west, young man' type thing."

Rose shook her head in amusement, but finally answered with, "Alfava Metraxis."

"Bless you."

"Shut it." She elbowed Jack sharply in the ribs as he laughed. "Honestly, that stupid joke hasn't got old for you yet?"

"My age has no impact on the hilarity of a good joke."

"Whatever."

His laughter petered out and the two continued on with nothing but the crunching of dead leaves as a soundtrack. The lack of animals and animal-like noises was the most disturbing thing, Rose deduced after a while. Civilizations crumbled and fell, races died off, but if the planet and its surrounding sun(s) was still healthy, then there was always vigorous evidence of animal life. And yet here, there was nothing.

"It's eerie."

Rose nodded.

"Did a bit of research before we left. A race called the Aplans lived here up until the 47th century. No one really knows what happened other than one day, they all just disappeared."

"Lovely."

"Quite. Anyway, this side of the planet is a little quiet, but on the other is a thriving human colony of about 6 billion. And based on the silence all around us, I can see why they chose not to settle here."

Jack bumped Rose's shoulder with his arm and cooed, "Look at the little historian. It's hot." Rose sighed and shook her head. The momentum turned it just enough so that she caught a glimpse of smoke above the tree line.

"There!"

Following Rose's pointing, Jack took in the billowing black smoke, and frowned. "Based on the thickness of the smoke, I don't think anyone survived."

Rose took off at a run, tossing over her shoulder, "They probably didn't survive whatever seemingly attacked them, but we have to at least check."

It took a few more minutes of running and hopping over downed trees and rocks before the forest scenery petered out to a rocky cliff.

"I hate cliffs, did I ever mention?"

Rose snorted as she accessed her manipulator. Calculations scrolled in front of her and she grunted. "'S'not a bad height. We can abseil."

Kneeling down, Rose rummaged through her messenger bag, pulling out her expanding rope and setting it aside. The rope continued to magnify as she buckled her pack up and put it back across her chest and shoulder. When she cast her gaze Jack's way, she was met with the most disparaging look she'd ever seen on the man.

She quirked a brow and asked, "Problem?"

He huffed and crossed his arms assertively. "I haven't abseiled anything since the day you thought it would be genius to go spelunking on Abner the First of the Glory System."

"I can't believe you're holding that against me. Anyway, fine. You stay here on the boring cliffs of Boringdom and I'll pop down and investigate the scene of a maybe genocide that could quite conceivably still have the murderer hanging about."

Jack blinked and dropped his arms. "Well, when you put it that way."

They worked in tandem, firmly tying the ropes to the trees lining the back edge of the cliff and yanking them to double the expansion. When they were both wrapped safely into the harnesses and secured to the ropes, they backed their ways to the cliff and jumped.

Rose grinned as she felt the wind in her hair and on her skin and heard the lapping of waves behind her. Jack's distasteful expression only urged her enjoyment of the situation to higher levels. She felt, for the first time in a long time, on top of the world. The delight lasted until she'd gotten ¾'s of the way down.

"Why is it, Rose, that you always think ropes are a good idea?"

And just like that, Rose flashed back to when she met Jack, after hanging off a barrage balloon during the Blitz. When she traveled with him. Her heart stuttered and contracted and the breath jumped out of her, leaving nothing behind but a searing pain.

"Rose?"

Schooling her features, Rose glanced up and smiled at Jack. "You were right, abseiling's no fun." She unclipped the carabiners holding her to the rope and, a moment later and to the soundtrack of Jack's shouts, dropped the rest of the way to the ground. She landed with a soft grunt, a sore bum and a twisted ankle.

She lay there, watching Jack scramble his way down, and allowed her energy to sweep through her, patching up her bruises and strains. By the time Jack reached her, she was standing on a perfectly healed ankle and casually dusting the grainy sand from her clothes and hair.

Her unconcerned gaze met Jack's absolutely furious one and she shrugged. "What? It wasn't far enough for me to die. Just a little bump and now they're gone. You know that."

Words rumbled out of Jack like thunder during a storm, "I can't stay dead – doesn't mean I actively try to get myself killed!"

"Oh, stop worrying. I knew it wouldn't only hurt a bit and I wanted to get down faster. It worked. Let's move on. Ooh, look. Crashed ship."

She turned away swiftly and marched toward the burning debris. She heard Jack grumble lowly as he trooped behind her. Minutes passed as they picked their way through twisted pieces of metal, surveying the damage. What little was there.

"Where's the rest of it?"

Jack, still irked at Rose, clipped, "Try up there."

She saw his finger pointing past her head and above. She turned her gaze up and blinked. "Lucky the Aplans don't exist anymore. Just what would they think of the newest accessory to their gorgeous temple?"

Jack suppressed the amused snort that wanted to escape and noted, "That's morbid and not funny."

"Your noises beg to disagree."

"I'm still going to be angry with you."

"And I'm still going to invalidate your anger."

Jack opened his mouth for a rejoinder, but paused. Rose turned back to see what he was on about and asked, "Nothing witty to say?"

"I think someone's hacking your manipulator, Rose."

Her wrist flew up and Rose took in the incriminating data with wide eyes. "What?!" She scrambled her fingers over the controls, attempting to abort the hack, but every attempt ended with a loud, blaring denial.

Unsure of what to do, Jack babbled, "Your security protocols are like trying to out of Stormcage, Rose. How the hell is this happening?"

As soon as the hack started, it stopped. Rose set the wristband into a diagnostic, to ascertain damage and stolen data, before bothering to respond. But before she could do so, a crisp voice from behind them filled the air.

"Since escaping Stormcage is a hobby of mine, that comparison is very apt."

3.3

"Doctor, we're not actually going to wander around 'the biggest museum ever' until we've seen everything, are we?"

Amy was pouting, or sulking, the Doctor wasn't sure which, as she did both extremely well and similarly. He didn't really know what the problem was. Museums were cool and any other companion would have enjoyed coming there. And he'd given Amy a Star Whale. A Star Whale! How cool was that?

Huffing, the Doctor turned and said, sternly, "Gallivanting about time and space is not only about running for our lives and saving civilizations, Pond. Sometimes, you have to take the time out to properly point and laugh at well-meaning but bumbling, bungling 'historians,'" and here, the Doctor stopped to do a magnificent pair of air quotes, before continuing, "and archaeologists as they try – and ultimately fail – to piece together their history."

He turned on his marvelously clad heel and cracked on. Seeing a display with colorful ponchos and sombreros with a sign stating that the French were unmatched style icons of the time, the Doctor nudged and winked at Amy, pointed and shouted, "LIARS!"

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw flaming hair flare out from Amy's head as she shook it, but a small smile lingered on her lips, getting bigger by the second. Finally, she broke.

"That was incredibly ridiculous," Amy giggled, wandering away from the Doctor.

"Well, you…"

Eyes caught by a sight he refused to believe, the Doctor's exuberant voice trailed off. He shuffled toward the exhibit, set atop a display block awkwardly. He examined the back slowly, intensely, but no matter what he tried to make himself believe… there was no denying Rose Tyler's backside. He'd spent enough time, too much time, admiring it to mistake the masterpiece for anything else.

Amy, always drawn when the Doctor abruptly stopped speaking, ambled back over to him, and started to examine the statue from all sides. "Oh! She's gorgeous, Doctor. I can see why you're speechless." She smirked and winked before her attention focused back on the marbled depiction of Fortuna. Or rather, the view she now got as she stood next to the Doctor. She cast a sly look to her side and murmured, "Naughty, naughty."

"Yes, well, it's incredibly well made, is all. Come along, Pond, no use dawdling."

The Doctor gawkily yanked his coat straight and cleared his throat, ready to usher his companion out of the gallery and back toward the TARDIS. He stopped mid-step when Amy drawled, "The statue or the woman's bum?"

"Come along, Pond!" His voice squeaked high and he had to clear it again. Amy lost it and had to grab the Doctor's arm to keep herself upright, but paused when she noticed the Doctor's taught facial muscles.

"Doctor? What's with the statue?"

Clearing his mind, the Doctor pasted a wide smile on and commented, "It is quite precariously placed, isn't it? Oh, they were expecting a Home Box from a galaxy class starliner, but it apparently went missing. So they converted the stand to hold that statue instead. Brilliant!"

Amy opened her mouth, ready to protest that he'd misinterpreted her question the Doctor was sure, so he hurried on, both in steps and in words: "Oh, I know what you're thinking, but no, I did not read anybody's mind nor did I see through walls and cabinetry to ascertain such information. One of the staff left the incriminating document just lying right there, for anybody to see. Careless."

The TARDIS doors were jerked open and the Doctor received a displeased hum from the old girl, but he traipsed swiftly up the ramp and to the controls, ignoring her displeasure. Amy opened her mouth to try to speak once more but the Doctor plowed over her again, nearly shouting, "So, a planet, eh? How about Barcelona and their dogs with no noses, wait! No! Not that one. Somewhere else then!"

And the Doctor was twirling and whirling around the console, leaving a dizzy and confused Amy in his wake. At least she wasn't trying to ask Personal Questions.

3.5

Jack and Rose swung around, swiftly pulling their guns free from their holsters and pointing straight at the owner of the voice. The unknown entity blinked once and then smirked, saying, "Put down your toys, darlings, before you hurt someone."

Ignoring the dig, Rose narrowed her eyes and asked, "Care to tell us who you are?"

Her tone, low and deadly, put a pause in the other woman's motion and it was then that Rose took into her attire. Long black dress and obscenely high heels.

"You caused this crash."

Consternation flashed over the stranger's face and she cast her gaze about, spotting the fiery debris and tracking it to the temple where the downed ship laid smoking. Raising her hands, the woman looked directly into Rose's eyes and spoke, somewhat imploringly, "I didn't do this. I did shoot out an airlock to give me time to hack your manipulator and for the coordinates, but-"

Jack finished for her, "But emergency protocols would have sealed mere seconds after you blew it. It was a phase shift in the warp engines. No survivors."

"There is one survivor. There's a thing in the belly of that ship that can't ever die. Now he's listening." Her ominous words struck a chord in Rose, riling her sense of intrigue.

"Who are you?"

An uncertain smile spread over the blonde's face and she said, "That's not funny."

4

Amy set three mugs of tea on the galley table, mind running over the events of the last few days. She blushed in dismay when she thought about the kiss she'd foisted on the Doctor, right after she'd finally got him to admit that the statue of Fortuna had been his own work – of a long gone companion. She knew male appreciation when she saw it, knew that the Doctor had most likely had a romantic relationship with this Rose, so she'd gone for it.

It was only in retrospect that she realized that the look in his eyes wasn't one of nostalgia, but one of pain. Loss. When he'd gone and picked up Rory, she'd felt twice the fool. He was putting distance between them because she made him feel uncomfortable – and despite his denials, Amy was sure he still loved this Rose girl.

"All right?"

Jerking out of her musings, Amy turned to look in the direction of that familiar voice. She smiled and said, "I'm fine, Rory."

Suspicion set into his face and he came closer, leaning in and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're sure? You seemed rather… despondent."

"Just thinking about the Doctor." Rory stiffened against her back and his arms tightened around her middle. Amy winced. "He's still in love with a girl from long ago, but he denies it. Said something crazy like, 'New face, new man' or some such nonsense."

Rory relaxed again against Amy and was about to speak when the Doctor clomped into the galley, his exuberance on display.

"Morning, Ponds! Well, not morning actually, we are traveling along all of time, so it's really 'morning/noon/night, Ponds!'"

Amy smiled in amusement, setting aside her thoughts and settled at the table, cupping her tea mug. She watched as the Doctor and Rory sat at their own mugs and a comfortable silence fell about the room.

It seemed the day was going to start off well when the TARDIS shook violently, sending everyone to the floor with a crash. Hot tea flew everywhere, scalding little bits of exposed skin. It was the last sensation Amy knew before everything went dark.

3.7

"What do you think?"

"Of what? Those disturbing Angels that have ensured that I will always freak out passing a cemetery or the crazy doctor lady who seemingly knows us from our future and is – apparently – a dangerous enough murderess that it takes Stormcage to hold her (and not even that)?"

Rose huffed a bit of a laugh and shook her head as she watched River whisked away by, strangely enough, the Church's military. She liked the woman, no matter what Octavian had said. She knew better than most that things were just about always not what they seemed. She had a feeling there was a story there.

"I was talking more about the mysterious River with the TARDIS notebook, but the Angels thing is good too… remind me to sell that old church I'd bought. No sense in renovating it if I'm not really going to be there to live in it much, right?"

"You're just as creeped by the Angels as I am."

"At least I didn't scream like a girly-girl when they popped in front of us that first time."

"That is an egregious lie."

"I'll let you think that."

"Thank you."

They were quiet a moment, the only sound the wind whistling across the cliffs, and basked in the early morning sunlight as it filtered weakly through the gray clouds, while contemplating the terrifying day (hours?) they'd spent amongst the dead. She'd seen River flipping frantically through a journal that looked suspiciously like a mini, paper TARDIS. Rose didn't like the implications of that, even if she liked the woman.

A gentle hand settled on Rose's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. "Come on, let's go. Earth, London, 21st century? Chips? The usual meet up, 5 minutes later?"

Rose reached up and twined her fingers briefly through Jack's, then dropped his hand to his side. "Chips won't erase the – rather unpleasant – thoughts racing through my mind, Jack."

Beeping informed Rose that Jack was already readying for a jump, so she followed suit. Just before he disappeared, Jack commented, "What? The knowledge that – no matter how much you might not like it – you're life seems to be entangled with the Doctor's? He's not a villain, Rosie, no matter what you think."

Looking around once more at the desolate beach and wondering why everything she didn't want to happen had to do so in a place like this, Rose started her own jump.

As she faded away, the wind seemed to whisper Rose's thoughts on Jack's last words: The man is always a villain, when he breaks a young girl's promises of forever. It sticks with you, no matter how old you get. And I hate beaches.

4.1 (Doctor's Choice)

The Doctor yawned and stretched his arms out above his head, an unaccustomed grin overtaking his face. That had been the best sleep he'd gotten since he'd left Gallifrey for the very first time. Tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brow, the Doctor tried to chase down why that feeling wasn't quite right, but it was an elusive thing and quite ephemeral, and the Doctor was left wondering why he was still in bed – pondering nothing.

He rolled out of bed, flexed his relaxed muscles once more and dressed. He smiled as he wandered down the corridor to the control room, he hummed lightly as he input the coordinates to the Ponds', and he skipped merrily down the ramp and to the doors. Today was a… good day. He felt it. Great things would be happening this day.

He popped open the TARDIS doors and jauntily stuck his head out. Rory came into view almost that second and a bright smile spilled over the Doctor's lips. He left the confines of the TARDIS, but hit something hard and sharp. Looking down, he saw a small rockery in his path. He maneuvered his body – always clumsy – over the obstacle and, once free, turned to his former companion and shouted, "Rory!"

His arms flung out wildly and garnered a raised brow from Rory, "Doctor."

Still presenting, the Doctor commented idly, "I've crushed your flowers."

"Oh, Amy will kill you."

The Doctor opened his mouth, ready to inquire after the erstwhile Amy, when a strange ripping sort of sound rent the air. His head whipped fast in the direction it had sounded, his eyes searching the placidly picturesque neighborhood intently.

"Was that… thunder? Doesn't look like rain and the forecast was clear."

Shaking his head and slipping his hand into his coat pocket to slip out his sonic, the Doctor gently shushed Rory and shooed him back toward the house. Near silently, he ordered, "Stop Amy from coming out. Stay inside and don't make a noise."

Rory opened his mouth, but the Doctor sent a hurried glare at him before moving off. He scanned the air, trying to determine the exact area the ripping had come from and followed the subsequent t beeping to the Ponds' neighbor's side alley.

Coming to an abrupt stop, the Doctor stared, mouth agape. The hand holding his sonic went limp, falling with a slight plop to his leg, which elicited a giggle from the impossible thing in front of him.

"You should close your mouth, Doctor. Bugs may be extra protein, but isn't it still gross?"

"You- how-you're here."

Rose smiled that smile that had always taken his breath away, her tongue caressing the side of her top teeth, shrugged her shoulders sassily and gave him a look that said, 'what do you know?'

"But… how?"

"I don't actually know. It was all your doing – well, clone-you. It was all Time Lord-y and complicated and I only understood about a fourth of what you were babbling about. I know there was something about bi-fractals. Anyway, here I am! And no crumbling multi-verse. Hello!"

The Doctor released a huge smile (because it's Rose and she will always elicit a smile) and threw himself at her in a gangly, graceless, octopus-armed hug. In the back of his mind, though, he knew something was wrong. The same feeling he'd had just after awakening was building in his gut, but… bi-fractals. With enough dedication and time and superior intellect (great hair was all well and good, but the Doctor suspected that to make room for such hair on his head, some cleverness had had to be removed), he could have… yes! It made perfect sense, now that he had a starting point.

Thanks, Hair.

The unease subsided and happiness took its place. As his acceptance settled, the Doctor pulled back and looked into that face he hadn't seen in years.

"Good to see you, Tyler."

It wasn't quite the 'hello' routine they'd once done, but it fit. He opened his mouth to ask why his clone had sent her here (not that it mattered, he had Rose back and something from his old life was… nice to have), but was cut off by a familiar Scottish caterwauling.

"Doctor! Who's this?"

Wincing, the Doctor spun about, arms landing akimbo on his hips as he scowled at Amy and Rory, who was standing behind his wife resignedly.

"I thought I told you to keep your wife inside while I checked out the possible life-threatening noise, Pond."

Rory shrugged and mumbled, "You know Amy, Doctor."

The Doctor barely acknowledged the other man's mutterings and barreled on, "Ponds, this is Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler, the Ponds and Rory, what has affixed to and died on the back of your head?"

Rose chuckled under her breath, while Amy outright laughed and Rory glared at his wife and fingered his hair, darkly grumbling, "You said you loved my ponytail."

"Well, it seems you are still rude and not ginger, Doctor."

The Doctor glowered at Rose as he took her by the arm and unceremoniously dragged her along behind him, the Ponds following sedately and (in Amy's case) amusedly.

The slightly edgy atmosphere that had befallen the group was broken when Amy proclaimed, "Rose Tyler, huh? The Doctor's told me so much about you!"

Rose cast a doubtful side glance at the Doctor and continued on with her dubiousness at Amy and drawled, "Really."

Caught out, Amy sheepishly replied, "Well, no, it was really just the one thing and only because we saw a statue of you as Fortuna and I wouldn't shut up until he said something."

Rose barked a laugh and said, "Yeah, now that sounds about right."

"Oi!"

"Oh, please, Doctor, don't feign offense. I didn't know who Sarah Jane was until we came face to face."

The Doctor sped up uncomfortably, wondering if Rose was annoyed that he hadn't told Amy much about her (and just discomfited by the entire conversation, anyway). After all, he'd made a promise (but a promise by the Doctor is made to be broken – and Rose knows that now, an insidious voice whispered through his mind). Shaking that thought away, the Doctor tuned back into the murmurings going on around him.

"Congratulations."

Amy squealed a bit, "Thank you!"

Turning, the Doctor's furrowed brow preceded the question, "What?"

Rose sighed in exasperation, her eyes rolling nearly to the back of her head, and Rory shook his own. Amy sent him 'are you kidding me?' vibes and gestured to her belly. Surprise attacked the Doctor when he saw the very round, very bulging abdomen that Amy was sporting.

"I am to assume that Rose's felicitations are not because you swallowed a planet?"

"Oh dear lord," Rose exhaled.

Amy glowered fiercely and Rory shook his head. The Doctor paused, then said, clumsily, "Ah."

Rose snickered behind her hand as the Ponds continued to stare in dumbfounded amazement at him (but really, they should know by now how domestically challenged the Doctor was). The moment was going slightly awkward, so the Doctor rushed Rose to the backdoor of the Ponds' home and then straight in.

They were followed by an aggravated, "No, that's all right, just go right on in, Doctor!"

By the time Amy and her husband wandered in (he wanted to say waddled but he was too fond of this regeneration), the Doctor had tea done and was shoving a mug into a slightly embarrassed Rose's hands. He saw her mouth apologies to the other two as they sat at the table and receive long-suffering but understanding glances in return. He decided to studiously ignore this by-play and get on with things.

"So! Leadworth, vibrant as ever."

He winked at Rose and received a charmed smile in return. As Rory answered with uninteresting information about Upper Leadworth and becoming more posh and Amy followed with information on the health of the individuals who lived there ("Loads of people here live well into their nineties"), the Doctor listened with half an ear as he scooted his chair closer to Rose's tentatively. He was rather unsure of the protocol for moments like this – mainly, because he tended to avoid getting caught up in moments like this. It was… nice, but wholly disconcerting. It'd been nearly a decade, perhaps more, since he'd seen Rose and they'd moved forward in their lives (he wouldn't say moved on exactly – at least, not about himself – more like… suppressing).

Close enough to feel the heat emanating from Rose's leg, the Doctor nudged her shoulder gently with his own. She nudged back, slightly awkwardly, used to a different shoulder as she was.

"That's extremely interesting, Ponds, but what I want to know is," he turned completely to Rose, eyes inquiring and intense, "why did he send you back?"

"He who?"

Amy's voice poked into the question, curious as always, but the Doctor ignored her for the moment, suddenly needing to know the answer he'd previously dismissed as unimportant. Unease slipped back into his system again and his hair stood on end.

Sorrow flirted across Rose's face briefly before she spilled.

"Oh… few years after Bad Wolf Bay, my regular checkups started showing interesting results. So former-you did some genome studies, some cellular studies and noticed that each of my cells were being replaced with perfectly healthy new ones. No degradation; each one was actually even working at better than optimum human efficiency."

The Doctor released his breath in a whoosh. He sat back and ran his fingers through his mop of hair and let out a little chuckle. Amy's face contorted in her signature look of annoyance and Rory leaned forward, preempting Amy's tart questions with a mild comment of his own: "So she's not aging."

The Doctor nodded and voiced Rose's implication for the other two, tone sad but with threads of happiness lacing through it, "I sent her back to me, so she wouldn't have to watch me grow old and die."

Amy wrinkled her nose. Confusion flooded her body before releasing in an, "Eh?"

The Doctor waved it off, saying, "Oh, nothing. So, Ponds! Upmarket, people in their 90s… it's very, er, sedate, though, isn't it?"

Rory folded his arms and said, confidently, "It's relaxing."

Rose leaned forward, sly grin on her face as she tangled her fingers with the Doctor's, and waited. The Doctor sent her a look as he crossed his own arms, Rose's hand entwining amidst them.

"Relaxing." His tone was unimpressed, but Rory refused to be intimidated.

"There are birds. Very relaxing, lovely to wake up to."

Amy nodded and pointed out their window, "Yeah, see? Birds. Those are nice."

A slight chuckle escaped from Rose at Amy's slightly forced excitement and the ginger pursed her lips. Rory ignored the by-play and continued, "We didn't get time to listen to birdsong back in the Tardis days, did we?"

The whole table winced as the birdsong instantly became louder.

"Oh blimey, my head's a bit. Ooo. Er, no, you're right, there wasn't a lot of time for birdsong back in the good old-" There was the sound of three heads thunking on the table as everything went black.

"Days…" The Doctor trailed off as he registered that he was lying on the console room floor of the TARDIS. He scrambled to his feet, rambling on as Rory and Amy – sans ponytail and round belly, respectively – strolled into the room. "What? No, yes, sorry, what?" He glanced frantically around. "Where's Rose? What? No, dream. It couldn't be, she's obviously not here, but it was so real."

Amy's eyebrows shot to her hairline and she exchanged worried looks with Rory. "Rose? As in Rose Tyler?"

The Doctor's head swiveled in Amy's direction, eyes intent. Had he told Amy her last name?

Wait, yes, yes, I did. Amy's just… It was a dream. Didn't see her all that long ago, so young and fresh and untouched by all that was to come.

The Doctor started fiddling with the levers and dials on the console, trying to bypass the inevitable bombardment of questions about his past. Amy really was too nosy for her own good and he'd already cracked the flood gates with Fortuna. And now dreams? Impossible, unreachable, wonderful dreams? He'd put Rose behind him (so very far – he's supposed to be a new man!), but she just kept trickling in.

She's just been on my mind, that's all and anyway, Rose – immortal? The Doctor snorted to himself. I'm getting fanciful in my old age.

"She of the dyed blonde hair and keeper of the cloned you?"

Hands abruptly frozen on the last lever he'd pushed, the Doctor turned to Amy, eyes wide. "How did you know that?"

Rory stepped up. "Uh, did she smile sort of like…" He commenced trying to smile like Rose, showing great amounts of teeth and sticking his tongue out to the side.

Amy snorted her amusement. "You look like a sick giraffe. Or maybe a constipated camel."

Rory adjusted his face to Rory norms and continued, slightly aggrieved, "Was Amy pregnant in your dream?"

Amy nodded excitedly, "I was huge. I was a boat!" Rory whipped about and nodded, pointing at Amy, before turning back to the Doctor.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor's eyes traveled between the two as he slowly drawled, "You lived in Upper Leadworth and I squashed your flowers." His companions nodded.

Rory's forehead wrinkled and he spoke slowly, "So you had it too? How can we have the same dream? It doesn't make any sense."

The Doctor's mind wandered a bit through the quagmire of time streams swirling through his head, but he could look for a century and never find the exact right one. And even if he did, who knows if it was a prime stream and even had half a chance of happening?

Hearing Rory's question, he jogged his awareness back to the present, pushing the barely there hope that Rose would pop up one day to the back of his heart, and said. "Look, it doesn't matter. We all had some kind of psychic episode. We probably jumped a time track or something. Forget it. We're back to reality now."

If the words were tinged with slight melancholy, he was thankful to his friends that they didn't mention it.

Birdsong started to fill the TARDIS and the three occupants looked around in confusion.

"Doctor? If we're back to reality, how come I can still hear birds?" Amy's voice was colored with slight trepidation.

Rory gripped her hand tightly and added, "Yeah, the same birds. The same ones we heard in the-"

"Dream. Oh! Sorry. Nodded off. Stupid. God, I must be overdoing it. I was dreaming we were back on the Tardis." Rory's voice faded to the background as the Doctor's head whipped around the kitchen, eyes frantically looking for Rose. As the husband and wife continued bantering, the Doctor stood, checked his braces nervously, and walked through the door to the sitting room, heart hammering wildly.

He stopped a few steps into the room, hearts falling, when he heard a shuffle from the opposite hall. He strode through the room swiftly and poked his head around the door, one way and then the other. There, Rose's backside poked out of the cupboard, her humming drifting towards the Doctor and filling his ears and soothing his panicked hearts. A pile of linens sat next to her feet.

"Rose?"

Clearly startled, Rose jerked back, slipped on a trailing corner of a thin blanket and falling back into the wall. Her hand pressed into her chest as if to keep her heart from running away with her and she looked at the Doctor with wide eyes.

"Doctor! You're up."

He nodded, approaching cautiously. "I'm up… what were you doing?"

Rose sighed deeply in relief and pushed off from the wall. Her feet tangles slightly in the blankest and the Doctor bent down to help her free them. He looked up at her from beneath his fringe and Rose smiled fondly. She moved the obscuring hair from his face with a finger, lightly pushing it back on his head. The Doctor shivered as her fingertip tickled his forehead and they just… stared for a moment. The Doctor felt his cheeks heat up and he quickly cleared his throat and stood.

"You and the Ponds fell asleep at the table. At first, I thought it was something alien, but your vitals seemed fine and your eyes were acting normally. So I thought I'd set up a makeshift camp in the sitting room. More comfortable and all."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Vitals?"

Rose reached for her pocket and pulled out the Doctor's sonic, waving it about. "Same setting as last one, I noticed. Sorry I had to get so… intimate with you to find it."

Her voice was slightly timid and her expression sheepish and the Doctor felt like a tool. Of course, she would have scanned them with his sonic. Rose was rather familiar with it – at least the settings from his old sonic and what was the point of rearranging their order when he already had the settings memorized?

A proud smile bloomed across his face and the Doctor swooped in to pull Rose into a hug. Her arms coiled about his body in return and they stood there, basking. Their relishing was interrupted with the paired clearing of throats behind them, one trying to be discreet and the other as brash as its owner.

Pulling away from Rose slowly, the Doctor couldn't help but flash back to the time he'd pulled away from her for the last time, on a windy, desolate beach in Norway. It had been the best thing for them both at the time, he knew, and he would never say otherwise – even though it turned out that maybe it hadn't been. He'd never regret trying to do right by those he loves – never; even if he regretted the outcome sometimes (he pushed another rude ginger to the back of his mind, so far down that she'd never touch surface again).

Amy was standing with arms folded across her chest and for a moment, the Doctor thought she was irked with Rose for going through her things. He was gearing up to defend the older woman when Amy hissed, "We were talking, trying to figure things out and you just mosey on out of the room! How's that for you?"

Rory sent Rose and the Doctor an apologetic glance and said more calmly, "I tried to explain that there was a member missing from our little party, but you know Amy."

Amy's ire rounded on Rory and she shouted, "What does that mean, 'you know Amy?'"

The Doctor grimaced and mouthed to Rose, 'Hormones.' She stifled her hilarity with a bite to her bottom lip and that nearly distracted the Doctor from the volcano at hand (she'd always had some of the plumpest lips… he was only a male, after all). As he opened his mouth to smooth things over, Doctor style, Rose stepped forward and put a hand on the small of Amy's back, rubbed soothingly, and murmured, "It means he's an idiot, like all men, yeah?"

Amy turned to Rose and beamed. "Exactly." Her eyes tightened and she said, "Since you weren't at the table, we'd thought you were of our imagining, but you're obviously here, so why weren't you unconscious on the table too?"

Rose guided Amy to the settee in the sitting room and then settled her feet onto an ottoman. She tucked the younger woman in with a throw and then commented quizzically, "I have no idea, to be honest. I thought maybe that you'd been on an adventure, the three of you, and caught something or were just really tired 'cause you hadn't gotten much rest, but then I thought to myself, I said, 'the Doctor wouldn't be idiot enough to take a pregnant lady on his adventures because almost all of them are bookended by life-threatening danger.' Then I discovered you were fine, mostly, and that I could let the Doctor sort out the particulars once he awoke."

The Doctor's dander was up at 'idiot' (especially since he did try to take an 11 year old on), but he decided to let that slide and nodded at her conjectures. He took over when Rose stopped speaking, sitting herself next to Amy on the settee. Rory sat in the cozy chair next to the dainty couch on Amy's side and they all turned to him questioningly.

He stood there, fingers steepled seriously in front of his lips. Something Rose had said niggled at his conscience but he couldn't get a clear picture, so he tucked that nugget away along with the sense of foreboding he'd been getting since this morning for later inspection and said, quite somberly, "Listen to me. Trust nothing. From now on, trust nothing you see, hear or feel."

Rory sat back, confused, and said, "But we're awake now."

With a quick glance at Rose, the Doctor informed, "Yeah. You thought you were awake on the Tardis, too."

Rose eyes squinted and her lips pursed, her eyes clouding over. The question he knew she wanted to ask had an answer that he couldn't give – not yet.

Amy sat forward, hands gripping her husband's, and said, her tone plaintive, "But we're home, me and Rory, at least."

Head bobbing near manically, the Doctor commented darkly, "Yeah, you're home. You're also dreaming. Trouble is, which is which? Are we flashing forwards or backwards?" He let that sink in for a few moment before he continued warningly. "Hold on tight. This is going be a tricky one."

With that caution, the Doctor moved over to Rose and took her hand, his grasp hard and possessive.

(Now that he was used to having Rose back, all conflict had dissolved. She was here – he wasn't going to fight it or ignore it. She was here and they were going to be them again and damn it, he was going to prove that the other one was the dream – a past memory resurfacing that Rose hadn't been there for. Because the alternative was heartbreaking. He wasn't losing her again.)

He blinked and looked at the others around him, then back to Rose. Pleadingly, he asked, "Is your head getting a bit-"

"Wibbly…" The Doctor trailed off as he looked around the TARDIS. He flexed his now cold and itchy hand and gritted his teeth, then hurried up to the console and started flipping switches and pressing buttons frantically. Everything seemed to be frozen or malfunctioning and fury swelled every cell in his body. He pulled back with a fierce growl and struck the console violently with his foot. The painful results reverberated up and down his leg and he limped about the small bridge, raging.

"Argh! Never use force. You just embarrass yourself. Unless you're cross, in which case, always use force!"

He was shouting, he knew he was shouting, but he couldn't help himself. How was a man, any man, supposed to cope when the woman who'd stolen his hearts had been taken from him twice (even if the once was his own fault) and given back to him – twice! – only to have her disappear into a possible dream?

Amy and Rory backed away from him, uncertainty crossing their features more than once, before Amy bravely spoke up.

"Shall I get the manual?"

"I threw it into a supernova. Rose was there. She clapped and cheered me on."

Amy winced at the mention of their missing fourth member, but started in again, "You-"

The Doctor whirled on Amy and glared menacingly. She stepped back into Rory's arms in surprise and flinched when the Doctor's hard tone admonished, "Stop talking to me when I'm cross!"

Reeling back about, the Doctor restarted his pacing, breathing labored as his hearts panicked.

Rory spoke up from behind the Doctor, voice almost clipped as he asked, "So whatever's wrong with the TARDIS, is that what caused us to dream about the future?"

A pang forced its way through the Doctor's hearts, making the Doctor wince. He pressed his hands above both organs in his chest and rubbed, trying to soothe out the pain.

This is why I said goodbye! Why is/was she back?

Before his wrath could direct at an undeserving Rose (this body was quite quick to temper and it wasn't something he was proud of), the Doctor spit, reluctantly, "If we were dreaming of the future."

"Well, of course we were! We were in Leadworth," Amy spouted exasperatedly. "And Rose isn't here, so obviously, for some reason, the three of us are jumping into our future bodies or heads or something!" Amy approached the Doctor and clutched his shirtsleeve desperately. "So she's not gone, Doctor, just not here yet."

Rory was nodding behind Amy decisively. "We were in Upper Leadworth. We can't afford that section of town right now."

The Doctor removed Amy's hands from his clothes gently and rubbed them a bit before lowering them to her middle. His fury had burnt out of him at Amy's beseeching, leaving nothing but hopeful despair behind. He cast shuttered eyes at Rory and mumbled, "Yeah, and we could still be in Upper Leadworth, dreaming of this. Don't you get it? That could be our past and this our future. So tell me – where's Rose in my future?"

Amy shook her head vigorously, tears glistening on her cheeks. "No, okay? No, this is real. I'm definitely awake now. And… and if Rory and I had had a baby, why would we be here and not with it? Like Rose said, only an idiot would take a baby on the TARDIS."

The Doctor saw Rory join Amy, arms curling around her midsection, and nodding in agreement. He breathed deeply and released, easing the sting and pressure behind his eyes, and whispered nearly brokenly, "And you thought you were definitely awake when you were all elephanty."

"Hey," Amy whispered back, a hint of delight in her voice at the Doctor's wavering hope reemerging, "Pregnant."

Whatever had spurred the return of faith suddenly turned sour once more and the Doctor's face clouded over. When he spoke, his voice was again verging on anguish. "And you could be giving birth right now. This could be the dream. I told you. Trust nothing we see or hear or feel. Look around you. Examine everything. Look for all the details that don't ring true."

The Ponds watched him pace around the console once more in silence for a bit, until Rory pointed out the obvious.

"Okay, we're in a spaceship that's bigger on the inside than the outside."

Hopping on the bandwagon, Amy continued, "With a bow tie-wearing alien."

The Doctor turned to stare at the duo and Rory finished with, "So maybe what rings true isn't so simple."

The Doctor sighed and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Valid point."

The TARDIS suddenly switched off, leaving nothing but the glow of the rotor behind. And as the Doctor announced that they were in a dead time machine, he couldn't help but think that maybe something else was going on. And Rose may just be at the heart of it. After all, the simplest lies to believe were the ones based on truth.

The birdsong started again. Rory hugged Amy closer to himself and the Doctor primed his mind – and hearts – for the return of Rose.

"Remember, this is real. But when we wake up in the other place, remember how real this feels."

Amy's whisper followed them down. "It is real. I know it's real."

The Doctor woke with a start, his eyes flying around the room to finally settle – with immense relief – onto Rose's worried face. He smiled and calmed his breathing, his hand lifting to move Rose's hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. A smile peered through the cloud over her face and her sigh gusted over the Doctor's, her sweet breath washing over him like a refreshing breeze.

Who did I think I was kidding? The Doctor's thoughts rolled over him like a revelation as Rose helped him to his feet. You don't get over a love like that just because your face changes.

"You okay? Amy, Rory?"

The other two stumbled up and nodded assent as Rose straightened the Doctor's tweed and bow tie, then fluffed his hair a bit by running her fingers through it. The Doctor hummed in contentment, leaning into her touch like a cat looking for affection. He was rewarded with Rose's bright smile and a light scratch on the scalp.

How could I have let her go?

"Doctor?"

Amy's voice intruded on the moment passing between him and Rose and he turned somewhat irritably toward his former (current?) companion. Her arms were crossed somewhat awkwardly above her rather large middle and her voice held a contradiction of certainty and doubt.

"This is the real world. Definitely. It's all solid." She turned to her husband/fiancé. "Right?"

Rory shrugged uncertainly.

The Doctor looked back and forth between the married couple and Rose. The variant between the worlds was Rose, but everything about Rose being here was plausible. Worry still troubled Rose, he could see it etched in the lines around her eyes, and he instinctively reached out for her.

As their hands grasped, the Doctor questioned, "Rose, what happens to you when we're asleep?"

"Well, nothing. I'm still here, if that's what you mean. It's right disconcerting, though, watching the three of you fall under at exactly the same time, yeah? Doctor, I'm worried."

He didn't say 'me too', wouldn't do to worry everyone depending on him, but he held Rose closer and tighter to his side all the same. An idea occurred as they all stood motionless in the hall. Bringing Rose's hand to his face, he waved it about, then let go and waved his own.

Laughingly, Rose asked, "What you doing?"

"Looking for motion blur, pixilation. It could be a computer simulation." He turned to Rose and studied her, from the golden flecks in her eyes she'd acquired after the Game Station to the hair, the clothes, the accent… and the love that had always poured from her eyes. She was too well done to be a replication of a stranger's making. "I don't think so, though."

The last was sighed out and he squeezed Rose's hand in relief. Her smile mirrored the Doctor's own.

"What now, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned to Rory and examined him, from ponytail to upscale house. Brow furrowed, he murmured, "It's affecting us all, except Rose." He pulled Rose closer when her hand flexed tighter in his, shushing her gently to comfort her, even as he voiced a thought that scared him nearly witless. "Rory, I saw the mail on your entry table when we first entered. You're a doctor, now. Congratulations!"

The Ponds nodded in puzzlement and the Doctor pulled Rose nearly into his skin. "Hello. You're a doctor."

"Yeah… and, unlike you, I passed my exams."

The Doctor ignored Rory's jab and continued, "A doctor, not a nurse. Just like you've always dreamed. That's…" Distress was running the Doctor ragged as he continued, "Your dream wife, your dream job, probably your dream baby. Everything you've ever wanted."

He turned to look at Rose, despair etched in the curve of his jaw. She looked up at him with moist eyes and whispered, "So I'm not real. But I feel real. I'm afraid that when you fall asleep, I'll cease to exist. Doctor, I feel so real!"

The Doctor swamped Rose in his embrace, holding tight to her and murmuring, "I know, me too, I know," over and over again. The world – imagined or not – shrunk to just the two of them and it hit this new face that this was why he'd been pushing Rose so very far down as to not even think her name. When he allowed himself to feel for her (the first person he'd let so close since Susan), it was like an avalanche – he just couldn't stop.

She was his delight and his poison; at the same time, he didn't want to shed his great hair and hyperactivity because it had been made for her, but he lost it at the end because he'd lost her, even if it had been his own choice. If she was just a making of his own imagination… but she couldn't be. Eyes squeezed shut against the threat of tears, the Doctor refused to believe. If there was one thing he believed in, just one thing, it was her.

Bracing himself, the Doctor swallowed decisively and pulled back from Rose. "Right. Let's figure out what's going on, shall we?"

Rose grasped his hand and nodded, followed by Amy and Rory. The Doctor led his group out the front door of the Ponds' home and looked around. Down the street a bit was an institutional looking building, sticking out amongst all the well-to-do homes.

Pointing, the Doctor questioned, "What's that?"

"Old people's home," Amy fill in matter-of-factly.

The Doctor stifled a slight smile at Rose's disgruntled look to Amy and took off at a run, pulling her along with him. Rory and Amy fell behind, with Amy's call of "Oh! Could we not do the running thing?" drifting over the increasing distance.

Rose pulled the Doctor to a stop in front of the sign, pointing at it and asking, "Who names a care home SARN? What does it even mean?"

"Something sinister, probably," the Doctor murmured as he turned to impatiently wave the lagging Ponds up. "Honestly, we should just leave the planet behind."

A sting flared on his skin for a moment and the Doctor turned to scowl at Rose, rubbing his shoulder. "Ow."

"Rude."

"It's the truth, though."

"She's your friend!"

The Doctor shrugged and smiled, blissfully aware that they'd fallen into old habits again – and so swiftly. This had to be real. Just then, Amy and Rory came to a breathless stop near them, Amy clutching her belly and glaring dolefully at the Doctor. He shrugged again and pointed at the old people peeking nosily out of the windows.

"You said everyone here lives to their nineties. There's something here that doesn't make sense. Let's go and poke it with a stick."

The Doctor's bravado spread to Rose and she smiled over her fear. "Always with the stick, Doctor."

"'Cause it's cool."

They moseyed about the care home while Rory spoke to an old lady knitting a sweater. Somehow, the Doctor got roped into wearing as the woman, Mrs. Poggit, continued to make adjustments. Rose stood to the side and clearly allowed the hilarity of the moment to overtake her anxiety and pointed and laughed. He hated when she did.

Sighing in frustration, the Doctor looked down at the old lady and grumped, "Slightly keen to move on. Freak psychic schism to sort out. You're incredibly old, aren't you?"

Rose snorted and covered her mouth as the entire lounge of old people turned to stare at the Doctor – which was slightly creepy in its own right – and birdsong once again filled the room. The Doctor could only turn toward Rose and stare at her with wide, panicked eyes as he promptly fell to sleep.

Snapping awake, the Doctor shot to his feet, rage pouring from his very skin. Peripherally, he saw Amy take a few steps away from him, eyes wide, but he didn't care. He'd gotten Rose back, he'd been allowing himself to feel the locked down emotions – and she was gone! Again!

"Argh!"

The Doctor punched the console furiously, screaming out the unfairness to the universe, before he quite abruptly and eerily calmed down. He straightened his back, yanked down his coat and turned to look at the Ponds, serene look on his face.

Rory stared for a moment from his position in front of Amy, his arms spread wide in protection. The Doctor raised his eyebrows in question and crossed his arms, body leant back on the console roundel. Rory blinked, then stood up and straightened his own shirt. Amy pressed up to his back, fingers gripping his sleeve.

Without much idea of what to say, other than 'sorry' (and Rory suspected that might not be the thing to do), he spoke: "It's bloody cold."

"The heating's off."

Amy furrowed her brow as the Doctor turned to the console and questioned, "The heating's off?"

"Yeah, it does that. Put on a jumper. That's what I always do."

The Doctor fiddled with the controls, pushing buttons and pulling levers. Nothing happened. The silence that followed what the Doctor was sure his guests thought of as a bizarre occurrence was broken – again – by Rory, who said, "Er, yes. Sorry about Mrs. Poggit. She's so lovely, though."

The Doctor spat, "I wouldn't believe her nice old lady act, if I were you." He bit his lips as more and more controls refused to work.

"What do you mean, act?"

As if not having heard her, the Doctor growled out, "Everything's off. Sensors, core power. We're drifting. The scanner's down so we can't even see out. We could be anywhere. Someone, something, is overriding my controls."

"Uh, Doctor? Do you have a fatter, weasely looking cousin we don't about?"

The Doctor swirled about and looked in the direction Rory was pointing. There, on the stairs opposite the TARDIS doors, stood a little man in a red bow tie and tweed jacket.

"Well, I've got to say, not just anyone can pull of this look." Standing to full height, the Doctor tightened his bow tie and stared the intruder down.

The round man quirked a brow at the comment, but let it pass, and commented idly, "First of all, bravo on that spectacular display of a childish tantrum… though, you and I know the why-fors, yes?" He waggled his brows smugly at the Doctor, who clenched his fists and ground his teeth, staring hard into the beady little eyes of this stranger. "You do keep misplacing our Rose, don't you? Perhaps she's better off…"

The Doctor growled and took a step forward and the other man smirked, stating, "Perhaps not. In any case, it has taken you quite the little while, hasn't it? Honestly, I'd heard such good things. Last of the Time Lords, the Oncoming Storm. Him in the bow tie." The funny little man leered and straightened his own bow tie.

"How did you get into my TARDIS?" No answer was forthcoming, though the Doctor didn't really give him a chance. "What are you?"

The little man hummed casually and rocked back onto his heels, hands clasped behind his back. "What shall we call me? Hmm, tricky this – or not. If you're the Time Lord, let's call me the Dream Lord."

The mockery in the Dream Lord's voice was unmistakable from the moment he'd opened his mouth and the Doctor was having a hard time holding back. It was a familiar feeling and one the Doctor wasn't sure he'd missed since his time with Rose. But he did miss Rose.

The Dream Lord grinned malevolently, as if he knew the Doctor's thoughts, and said, "Perhaps, if you'd had a few more years, or even months, hmm?"

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and threw it at the Dream Lord, watching in total non-surprise as it sailed right through him. The weasel of a thing expressed nothing north of disdain and drawled, "Interesting. I'd love to be impressed, but - Dream Lord. It's in the name, isn't it? Spooky. Not quite there."

With that announcement, the intruder disappeared and reappeared behind the trio, eliciting a small shriek from Amy. The Doctor spun about and looked at the creature.

"And yet, very much here." He flourished his arms, as if to say 'ta-daaaa' and smiled creepily again.

The Doctor ignored that statement and said, "I'll do the talking, thank you. Amy, want to take a guess at what that is?"

Amy's eyes bulged just a little and she stumbled out, "Er, Dream Lord. He creates dreams."

Nodding, the Doctor affected a smug expression, but inside his hearts were sinking. "Dreams, delusions, cheap tricks."

The Dream Lord sneered. "Well, she's a right carbon-copy, isn't she? If a bit ruder and less compassionate (kind of selfish too)." He rolled his eyes at Amy's indignant 'oi' and turned back to the Doctor. "Well, Doctor. It's time to choose."

Eyes narrowed, the Doctor spat out, "Choose what?"

The Dream Lord cackled dramatically, spiking the Doctor's ire even higher, then disappeared. His laughter lasted in the TARDIS unnervingly, ghostly and ephemeral, but came to a crescendo when the creature reappeared right behind the Doctor. He spun around and glared at the Dream Lord, demanding, "Where did you pick up this cheap cabaret act?"

Faux offense spread across the Dream Lord's face before he again broke out into a smirk. "Me? Oh, you're on shaky ground."

"Am I?"

"If you had any more tawdry quirks you could open up a Tawdry Quirk Shop. The madcap vehicle, the cockamamie hair, the clothes designed by a first-year fashion student. I'm surprised you haven't got a little purple space dog just to ram home what an intergalactic wag you are. Where was I?"

Rory spoke up a bit timidly, "You were-"

The Dream Lord cast a disparaging glance at the man, scoffing, "I know where I was." Turning back to the Doctor, the Dream Lord continued gleefully, "So, here's your challenge, Doctor. Two worlds: here, in the time machine and there, with the woman that time forgot. One is real, the other's fake." He stopped to waggle his eyebrows at his captive audience, before he finished, "And just to make it more interesting, you're going to face in both worlds a deadly danger, but only one of the dangers is real. Tweet, tweet. Time to sleep."

Birdsong flitted through the TARDIS and the trio's eyes became heavy. The Doctor stared into the Dream Lord's eyes even as his own drooped even farther.

The Dream Lord's last taunt followed the Doctor down as he lost his battle with the induced sleep. "Oh. Or are you waking up?"

The induced dream (induced wakefulness?) disorientation faded quickly and the Doctor popped up, feeling familiar hands on his arms as he did. Once he was stable, he latched onto Rose desperately. He looked into her eyes and cupped her face, but directed his question to the two behind him.

"All right, there?"

"Yeah, fine."

Amy's voice was exhausted and he wasn't sure if it was mental, physical or even metaphysical, but she didn't sound hurt. He nodded in response, still staring longingly into Rose's eyes, when in sauntered the Dream Lord. Rose was quickly snapped behind the Doctor, his stance aggressive.

The Dream Lord looked up briefly from the X-ray he was inexplicably holding and chuckled, then turned back to the image, pointing.

"Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad. Look at this X-ray. Your brain is completely see-through. But then, I've always been able to see through you, Doctor." His voice was dark and menacing and the Doctor held even firmer to Rose. Independent as always (defiant some would say), she lifted onto her toes and peeked over the Doctor's shoulder.

Confusion lit her features as she questioned softly, "Always? What does he mean, always? Doctor, who is he?"

The Dream Lord cast a creepily fond look at Rose and answered her in a roundabout way, "Now then, the prognosis is this. If you die in the dream, you wake up in reality. Healthy recovery in next to no time. Ask me what happens if you die in reality?"

Rose's eyes widened as she assimilated this information, her earlier, unvoiced worries becoming all too real. The Doctor would have smiled proudly – like always – if the he hadn't suspected that every word, every movement, every facial tic of hers hadn't been cobbled together by his own mind.

She was too well done to be a replication of a stranger's making. His own words, a precursor, a harbinger that he hadn't wanted to believe. He'd pushed down every little hint of unease… and all because of that damned statue where a Home Box should have been. His dream, not Rory's or Amy's, they were just distractions, just there, why not add them in too?

Before anyone else could answer, Rose's hard voice cut through the room, "It's obvious, isn't? So why should they play your stupid game?"

The Dream Lord pouted at Rose and mumbled petulantly, "Take the fun out, Rose. When did you become the fun-killer?"

Amy butted in, hysteria edging her voice (the Doctor couldn't blame her, the way he'd been acting), "Have you met the Doctor before? Do you know him? Doctor, does he?"

The Dream Lord tsked at Amy. "Now don't get jealous. He's been around, our boy, if Rose somehow wasn't an indication." He waved his hand in the air. "But never mind that. Your Doctor's got a world to choose. One reality was always too much for you, Doctor. Take two and call me in the morning."

The Dream Lord vanished.

"Okay, I don't like him," Rory breathed.

"Doctor, is he the one doing this?"

Rose's gentle voice broke through the numbness that had started to settle over his hearts. He turned around and embraced her tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

"He is."

"Why?"

Soft cheeks moved under his palms as the Doctor cupped Rose's face and she smiled encouragingly. He dropped his forehead to hers and stayed there, quietly breathing her in (I didn't know I still remembered her scent that well).

Gathering strength from Rose, even if she was just from his memories, the Doctor finally said, "Maybe because he has no physical form. That gets you down after a while, so he's taking it out on folk like us who can touch and eat and feel." He rubbed his forehead against Rose and whispered, "Some of us," before he pulled back and faced the Ponds. There was a sort of realization in Amy's eyes that had never been there, but at the moment, the Doctor dismissed that and focused on trying to figure a way out of this mess.

Rory interrupted his thoughts, asking, "What does he mean, deadly danger, though? Nothing deadly has happened here. I mean, a bit of natural wastage, obviously."

Rose tugged on the Doctor's sleeve, pointing out his tweed. "The sweater's gone."

Darting his eyes about and taking the lounge, he noted, "They've all gone. They've all gone."

Clasping hands with Rose once more, the Doctor tugged her hand and motioned for the Ponds to follow. They raced out the door and onto the street. Peripherally, the Doctor noticed a teacher herding a group of school children toward a play castle. Over the the childish shrieks and shouts, Rory asked, "Why would they leave?"

The Doctor shrugged as he gazed down the quiet streets, whispering to Rose, "See anything?"

"No," she whispered back.

Amy stepped up to him, bumping him with her belly lightly and garnering a queasy look from the Doctor. He pulled out his sonic and lightly pushed until Amy's protuberance backed up enough for air to flow between the two.

Amy scowled at him and quasi-shouted, "Time to pay attention to me now, Doctor." With a quick glance at Rose, and a somewhat rude, 'Sorry, blondie', Amy continued toward the Doctor, "What did you mean about Mrs. Poggit's nice old lady act?"

Staring a bit icily at Amy, the Doctor took his time stashing his sonic one handedly, before finally responding. "One of my tawdry quirks. Sniffing out things that aren't what they seem. So, come on, let's think. The mechanics of this reality split we're stuck in. Time asleep exactly matches time in our dream world, unlike in conventional dreams."

The Doctor's arm circled about Rose's shoulders, hand clutching the round, as he casually surveyed the area.

"And we're all dreaming the same dream at the same time, except for Rose."

The Doctor tried to pull Rose closer to himself, into his skin, but she couldn't move any more. He nodded to Rory and said, "Yes, sort of communal trance. Very rare, very complicated. I'm sure there's a dream giveaway, a tell, but my mind isn't working because-because…" He glanced at Rose and their eyes met, hers showing understanding.

"Don't think about me. If your friends are in danger… just think about that."

Love flowed through the Doctor, as intense as it had when he was pinstripes and converse, but no longer catching him by surprise. Nodding, he released his breath and focused his mind.

Rose, with her free hand, gestured for Amy to take a seat on a nearby bench, and the redhead nodded gratefully. Rory and the Doctor-Rose conglomeration followed, the latter slower than the rest as the Doctor's attention caught on something a bit in the distance.

As the two sat, the Doctor commented, "Didn't the children go into the castle?" Rose nodded while a distracted Amy and Rory shrugged and rubbed her belly.

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't hire Mrs. Poggit as a babysitter. What's she doing? What does she want?"

Tweeting filled the air around them and Rose gripped the Doctor's hands tightly, her anxiety blooming on her face. Amy sighed and murmured, "Oh, no. Here we go."

The Doctor kept his eyes on Rose until he couldn't keep them open any longer.

"It's really cold. Have you got any warm clothing?"

The Doctor waved Amy away impatiently, fury etched into the movement. He vaguely heard the girl mutter and drag Rory away to search the area as he gathered tools to fix the environmental problem. As he wandered beneath the console, movements tight with rage, the argument between the two passengers filtered around him… and his rage tempered itself with guilt.

He could hear how Amy was pulling away from Rory, though not for the same reasons as previously, he could tell. Now, it was just the excitement of travel and not of him. But Rory couldn't see it. He did that – enthralled young women and then took them away to a fantastical world. Two – so far – had found the men they were supposed to be with and the Doctor was confident that any doubt Amy had left over about Rory would soon be washed away and that count would go to three.

The Doctor deftly assembles a rope, whisk and bottle opener into a generator and smiles when Rory and Amy come back up, both wrapped in blankets.

"Ah, Rory, wind. Amy, could you attach this to the monitor, please?"

Rory opens his mouth, no doubt for some sort of smart retort, but seems to changes his mind, closing his mouth and shaking his head, instead asking, "What's this then?"

"It's a generator. Get winding." The Doctor could hear Rose's vice echoing rude and amended, "Please."

Rory cast him a suspicious glance but wound the device with conviction. Amy spotted from her place at the monitor, saying, "Not enough."

The Doctor motioned for Rory to wind harder. Rory picked up speed, but questioned, "Why is the Dream Lord picking on you? Why us?"

The scanner flickered to life and readings, terrible and confusing readings, scrolled across the screen.

Amy blinked and asked slowly, "Where are we?"

The Doctor felt his hearts go out with relief, even as he said, "We're in trouble."

"Why? What is that?" Rory's panicked voice pierced the Doctor's ears.

Glaring at him and rubbing his tender appendage, the Doctor announced, "This old thing? Oh, it's just a cold star."

Gesturing the Ponds to follow him, the Doctor led them to the TARDIS doors and swung them open. They stood at the edge of the floor and stared at a large, looming (can't forget the looming), icy ball floating in space.

"That's why we're freezing. It's not a heating malfunction. We're drifting towards a cold sun. There's our deadly danger for this version of reality."

Amy sighed, half in relief and half in disappointment, and her voice was a weird mixture of the two as she spoke. "So this must be the dream. There's no such thing as a cold star. Stars burn. So, Rose is… Doctor, Rose is really back."

Smirking lightly, the Doctor played devil's advocate and stated forthrightly, "So's this one. It's just burning cold."

Rory blurted out incredulously, "Is that possible?"

The Doctor turned to stare at the young man and said, condescendingly, "I can't know everything. Why does everybody expect me to, always?"

Amy smiled softly and said, "Rose doesn't think you do."

"Rose made me impress her on our first date, and that even after saving the world from invasion by plastic. She knows how to keep a man's ego in check."

The fondness in the Doctor's voice dripped from every word and he saw Amy smile slightly from the corner of his eye. Shaking himself, he pushed the doors closed and swung around.

Rory followed him, hope in his eyes and voice as he asked, "So does that mean this is the dream? Since this is something you haven't seen before?"

"I don't know, but there it is. I'd hazard a guess to say that out of the two amazing things that have happened today, Rose is the more plausible. And I'd also say we've got about fourteen minutes until we crash into it. But that's not a problem."

The humans sighed in relief, Rory capping it off with, "Because you know how to get us out of this?"

The Doctor shook his head and said, somewhat merrily, "Because we'll have frozen to death by then."

Amy winced and Rory looked a bit nauseated. Rubbing his back, she asked, "Then what are we going to do?

"Stay calm. Don't get sucked in to it, because this just might be the battle that we have to lose."

The grim statement did nothing to dampen the Doctor's spirits. He had already made his choice. And if it was influenced by Rose presence in one over the other, well, no one really needed to know. It was all backed up by science. Rose's story was plausible. He'd already calculated the equations that were needed to breach the void (all one way) and they would work. From Pete's World. Not on this side, and that's why he'd not ever thought of it (besides thinking Rose was mortal and happy in that reality, of course).

In frustration, Rory burst out, "Oh, this is so you, isn't it?"

Hand on the lever to crash them into the star, the Doctor, paused, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Huh, what?" Rory waved his arms and moved his body about in what the Doctor supposed was to be an imitation of how the Doctor worked. He tried not to be insulted. The Doctor didn't look daft when he did it. "A weird new star, fourteen minutes left to live and only one man to save the day, huh? I just wanted a nice village and a family."

The Doctor's eyebrows drooped into a deep furrow and he, tired of being labeled a girlfriend stealer – especially in the light of recent girlfriend revealing event, hissed, "Now, see here, Rory! Amy is just a friend! And that kiss meant nothing to me. In fact, it wasn't even a good kiss, I just said that to make you feel better. She was all mouth – I feared she was going to eat me whole!"

"Hey!"

The Doctor whipped his head about at Rory's wide, terrified gaze. He came face to irate face with Amy, her face red from chin to forehead and her eyes sparking. He shrugged carelessly and commented, "It's true. But it's not really your fault, the last few kisses I've experienced were all with Rose (and two other companions but I'd like to forget those thanks, bringing nothing but trouble), and I'm used to her more genteel style of doing things, instead of your bull in a china shop technique, Amy."

Amy gasped loudly, her body seeming to vibrate. Concerned, the Doctor looked to Rory, wondering what had brought this reaction on. Before anyone could continue down that line of discussion, the Dream Lord appeared, an exaggerated pout on his face.

"You just never do things half way, do you Doctor? I shouldn't be surprised – when you dump someone, I mean, you really dump them, don't you? In an entirely new universe that's going to seal itself off permanently and everything!"

The Doctor saw and Amy and Rory blink, and think about that sentence. Birds started singing again before they could question. The Dream Lord looked up, feigning shock and said, "Oh, no. We've run out of time. Don't spend too long there, or you'll catch your death here."

The trio woke up faster this next transfer, perhaps because of the very real-seeming threat they were facing. The Doctor's eyes found Rose's unerringly, and he swooped in on her, pulling her off the bench and into his gangly arms. He swung her around, laughter spilling from his mouth lightheartedly. He slowly stopped twirling, setting Rose onto her feet and pressing his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. She beamed, tongue touching her teeth.

"What's going on, then?"

"That's what I'd like to know; not that it isn't nice to see you smiling and laughing again Doctor, but… the children are gone."

The Doctor pulled back, shifting back to business mode and darted his eyes about, "Where?"

Shrugging, Rory said, "Don't know. Playtime's probably over."

Turning to Rose, the Doctor eyed her. "What happened while we were out? Anything?"

Rose shook her head. "Nothing much, though I was too busy making sure none of you plopped face first into the ground to really pay attention."

The Doctor whipped out his sonic and ventured over to the playground in the distance, scanning all the toys and equipment once he and Rose had gotten into range, Amy and Rory arguing as they followed behind.

"You see, this is the real one. I just feel it. Don't you feel it? "

"I feel it both places."

"I feel it here. It's just so tranquil and relaxed. Nothing bad could ever happen here."

As the Doctor waved his sonic about and Rose gripped his hand, he could hear regret and a sort of realization enter Amy's voice as she stated, "Not really me, though, is it? I mean, would I be happy settling down in a place with a pub, two shops and a really bad Amateur Dramatics Society? That's why I got pregnant, so I don't have to see them doing Oklahoma." She swiftly changed tactics, whether to change the subject swiftly or merely because she noticed them: "Doctor, what are you doing? And what are those piles of dust?"

"Playtime's definitely over."

The Doctor's voice was grim and Rose squeezed his hand, then said, "It was them, wasn't it?" She nodded her head in the direction of the street and the rest of the group turned about. The Doctor growled under his breath as he saw the old people shuffling down the street toward them and Amy's eyes widened. Rory's eyes narrowed.

Disbelief tinged Amy's voice, her words piercing, "They're just old people. Have you lost your touch?"

"Nooo…" the Doctor drawled out, "they're very old people. Sorry, Rory, I don't think you're what's been keeping them alive." The Doctor pushed Rose behind him, unsure whether her perfectly replicating cells would be capable of replicating fast enough were the army of old people to get their hands on her.

Laughter echoed in front of them and the Doctor ground his teeth. Rose bit her lip and glared just in time for the Dream Lord to make an appearance. He looked the group over, but spent a little extra time on Rose.

"Hello, again, my dear." He ticked his head the Doctor's direction and continued, "He's just so fickle, isn't he? He wants you, he doesn't want you, he wants you, then he really doesn't want you and seals you away." He leans forward, but the Doctor pulls her back, stepping slightly in front of her. The Dream Lord glances up and smiles maliciously, then turns back to Rose, hand by his mouth as if departing a secret, "Between me and you, I think he was trying to tell you something."

"Leave her alone," the Doctor growled.

"Do that again." The figment turned to the rest of the group and said, "I love it when he does that. Tall dark hero. 'Leave her alone,'" his voice went higher in an attempt at mimicry then he shook his head, dismissing that ploy. Leaning back onto his heels, his head turned at the same time to observe the slow march down the street. His hands slapped to his cheeks dramatically and he wailed, "Oh, dear! What's this, attack of the old people? Oh, that's ridiculous. This has got to be the dream, hasn't it? What do you think, Doctor? Let's all jump under a bus and wake up in the Tardis." He smiled menacingly and pointed at the Doctor. "You first."

They stared at him and the Dream Lord sighed. "You're all so humdrum." He turned once more to Rose, his eyes flicking momentarily to the Doctor's. "Ever stop to think that maybe that's why he left you in Pete's World, without a goodbye? And that he's only keeping you around because you're here and he feels responsible? Hmm? After all, he's got ginger over there – we both know how obsessed he's always been with gingers. And this one even fancies him! Snogged his face off, didn't you, Amy? Just threw yourself at him like you were starving and he was a pile of chips. Oh! But chips was your and the Doctor's thing, wasn't it Rose? Not any more…"

The Doctor was vibrating with suppressed wrath, his arms going about Rose protectively. Amy gazed at the Doctor uncertainly and backed into Rory's side.

"Drop it. Drop all of it. I know who you are."

The Dream Lord chuckled. "Oooo. The grand reveal cometh. You do so like your speeches and grandstanding, don't you? And anyway, course you don't know who I am. You're just simply not that clever. Quit fooling yourself."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow and purred, "Course I do. No idea how you can be here, but there's only one person in the universe who hates me as much as you do."

Rose gasped, the pin dropping suddenly, and the Doctor smiled, just a little bit. She'd always been observant, his Rose, and she'd always known the heart of him. Amy looked back and forth between the two, confused and a little hurt. The Doctor supposed that couldn't have been avoided – that was the nature of this game, after all.

The Dream Lord scoffed and spat, "Never mind me. Maybe you should worry about them." His thumb ticked backward, over his shoulder, highlighting the very real danger of being killed by a group of old people. They were already to the grass.

The Dream Lord wiggled his eyebrows and disappeared, mockingly doffing his hat to Rose.

Rose spoke up for the second time since they'd reverted back to this reality, "Don't you think we should run?"

Amy jeered, "They're old people. It took them a century just to get up to the playground."

As if to belay Amy's statement, one of the old men grabbed Rory by the collar of his shirt and lifted him above his head, tossing him into the mud under the swing set. He groaned and clutched his side in pain. Amy shouted.

"Well, now, that's just a tad bit unfair don't you think? Now granted, I don't know Rory all that well, but in my experience, a nurse is hardly going to beat and old person, so of course you've got the upper hand. Maybe if you could… look younger for us? Maybe make us feel less guilty about punching you in the face? Poking you with a stick?"

Rory, with Amy's and Rose's (one-handed) help, had gotten to his feet. He was about to say something, but the Doctor snapped, "Don't ask inane questions. Obviously, he's not himself. Everybody get ready to run, fast."

As he said this, the Doctor backed Rose up and Rose backed Amy and Rory up. He smiled, despite the dire situation. That was Rose.

Amy clutched Rory's arm, but asked, "Can't we just talk to them?"

As if on cue, the old people opened their mouths and an eyeball looked out. Rose gagged. "That's just… not right."

"There is an eye in her mouth," Amy commented dumbly.

The Doctor nodded grimly. "There's a whole creature inside her. Inside all of them. They've been there for years, living and waiting."

"That is disgusting. They're not going to be peeping out of anywhere else, are they?" Rory leans a bit forward, moue on his face and eyes trying to check their bums in what the Doctor assumed was morbid curiosity. Mrs. Poggit breathed out and a stream of green gas spewed forth.

The Doctor didn't bother to turn around. He released Rose's hand and said, "Run." He heard two sets of feet take off and it didn't take a genius to know which pair had stayed. He didn't have time to argue, just took up her hand again and continued, "Okay, leave them, leave them. Talk to us. Talk to me and Rose. You are Eknodines. A proud, ancient race. You're better than this."

The eyes blinked at him but the creatures remained quiet.

Rose spoke up gently, "What's brought you here?"

Old lady Poggit spoke, "We were driven from our planet by-"

"Upstart neighbors," he and Rose finished in tandem. They grinned at each and Rose mouthed, 'Isn't that just always the way?'

The aliens either didn't see or just ignored the by-play, continuing, "So we've-"

"Been living here inside the bodies of old humans for years," the Doctor interrupted again. "No wonder they live so long. You're keeping them alive."

"We were humbled and destroyed. Now we will do the same to others."

"Um, why? That doesn't make much sense. It wasn't humans who did it."

The Doctor spoke to Rose first, the creatures second: "Makes sense, I suppose, in a convoluted 'you will feel our pain sort of way. Credible enough. Could be real."

A paper boy wheeled his bicycle past and waved, giving them all a good morning. Alien-Poggit breathed on him and the boy turned to dust.

Rose gasped in outrage, shouting, "Why'd you do that? He was just a kid!"

The Doctor glared and put his arm around Rose's shoulder to comfort best he could. "You need to leave this planet."

The creature ignored the Doctor and continued forth at a slow and steady pace. Rose and the Doctor backed up a few steps and then turned to run. They took a corner at speed and noticed a butcher shop. Heading for it, Rose questioned, "Is that really the best idea? Knives and things in there."

The Doctor glanced back and then to Rose. "Oh, you know. They're too classy for the slice and dice. They'll just kill us with their bad breath."

Rose giggled slightly, which got a smile from the Doctor, and said, "I've missed this."

"I've missed you. Don't believe-"

"Would I ever?"

The Doctor shook his head and stopped to pull the door open, herding Rose inside with a hand on her back. Once inside, they stopped, stood back from the windows and Rose caught her breath.

The Doctor jerked his head up as birdsong started. He forced his eyes to stay open by staring directly into Rose's own.

"Doctor?"

When an oily voice started speaking, Rose whirled around to catch sight of what the Doctor was already glaring at.

"Oh, I love a good butcher's, don't you? We've got to use these places or they'll shut down. Oh, but you're probably a vegetarian, aren't you, you big flop-haired wuss."

At the same time the Doctor griped, "Oh, pipe down. I'm busy," Rose hissed, "The first sign of insanity is talking to yourself, you know?"

The Dream Lord sneered at Rose, but spoke only to the Doctor. "Maybe you need a little sleep."

The Doctor's eyes shot wide in worry for Rose before he slumped to the floor.

"Oh, wait a moment. If you fall asleep here, several dozen angry pensioners will destroy you and Rose with their horrible eye things."

He snapped and the Doctor shot awake and to his feet. He reached for Rose and she nodded reassuringly.

"Oh, blech, What's with the lovey dovey? Time was, you wouldn't have even entertained the thought! Well, fingers in the ear. Brilliant. What's next, shouting boo? Come in, come in." The Dream Lord gestured to the door and the care home denizens swarmed into the shop.

"Yes, we've got lots at steak here this week. Lots at steak, get it? Are these jokes wasted on you?"

Rose wrinkled her nose. "Why's it so geeky and lame, then?"

The Doctor tried to smile, but his fear welled up in him as the old people started to converge. He pushed Rose behind him, arm held up and gasped, "Wait, wait, stop."

"Oh. Oh, I can't watch," the Dream Lord moaned. He looked away and Rose yanked the Doctor over behind another counter, where a door to a store room was located. They ran in and shut it, the Doctor sonicing it closed. Rose started to push boxes of meat in front of the door for good measure, the Doctor following suit. He grabbed her hand as the birdsong became stronger and then knew no more.

Amy shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, eyes quick to find the Doctor. They'd just left him. And Rose. It didn't sit well. She opened her mouth to apologize or ask where he and Rose had gone, but the brooding air around the Doctor as he leaned his hands on the console and stared at the monitor of the cold star deterred her.

Instead, she said, "Ah, it's colder."

The Doctor ignored her and said, "The three of us have to agree, now, which is the dream."

"It's this, here." Rory's voice rung with conviction and Amy wavered, reluctant to believe, but watched the Doctor closely as she drawled out, "He could be right. The science is all wrong here. Burning ice?"

The Doctor shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. Ice can burn, actually. Dry ice. Sofas can read. It's a big universe. We have to agree which battle to lose. All of us, now."

"Okay, which world do you think is real?"

The Doctor exhaled, his eyes mercurial as he thought, and then admitted, "The other one."

Rory nodded and murmured, "Yeah, the other one."

The two looked at Amy and she looked between them. Her boys, except one not so much it would seem, both desperately wanting the other world for separate reasons. So she chose. Nodding, she whispered, "Upper Leadworth."

The Dream Lord dropped in just as the Doctor grasped the lever that would shut off all gravitational control and tutted briskly. "Now, now. Don't be so hasty. The fun's only just started."

The Doctor glowered hatefully at this being that he and Rose seemed to know and growled, "No, the fun is over."

He yanked the lever down and the TARDIS spun out. The occupants flew to the floor and the Dream Lord faded from sight, an enigmatic smile on his face that no one noticed, occupied as they were with watching the TARDIS fall closer and closer to the cold star. The temperature decreased rapidly, the inside of the TARDIS iced over and the trio started to shiver. As the cold became burning, Amy watched as Rory and the Doctor lost consciousness and then followed swiftly behind.

The Doctor woke up abruptly and was on his feet, sonic out, as he searched for the circuits. Rose stood next to him, clutching his bicep and leaning her head against it as he mumbled, "Okay, where is it?"

The sonic beeped with the acquired frequency and he sent a cocky grin Rose's way.

"Eureka!" She whispered.

The Doctor laughed quietly, grabbed her hand and motioned for her to open the door with her other. He zapped the lights and they glowed brighter, flashing like strobes. The old people closed their eyes and mouths and the Doctor took the chance to navigate Rose and himself through the crowd. They escaped rather quickly and took off at a run.

"Did you see which way Amy and Rory went?"

"They went home."

"Right, on we go, then."

They reversed course and ran around the shops, toward the playground, but were stopped sharply by the rather bewildering appearance of the Dream Lord. He smiled and nodded. "So, you chose this world. Well done, you got it right. Happy day!" He doffed his hat, his smile marking the end of his games, and faded for the last time.

They exchanged quizzical looks and for the Doctor, something didn't seem- quite right. He immediately brushed it off, though, as Rose's soft warmth enveloped his hand and tugged. They started forward once more. As they approached the road near the playground, they could see a camper van under attack across from the park, the driver calling for help frantically. The Doctor huffed as they ran toward the auto, "He couldn't be near the shops, could he?"

"Sarcasm isn't exactly what people want to hear at the moment of their impending death, Doctor."

"Really? Are you certain?"

Rose laughed as she bent down to pick up a plastic bat from the playground as she ran, aiming it at the old man attacking it and taking a swing. The man flew down to the ground, leaving room for Rose and the Doctor to hop in. Rose climbed over the seat divider, tossing the bat into the back seat, as the Doctor hopped into the driver's seat.

"I know he's morally gray alien and all, but I feel horrible. I committed elder abuse."

The Doctor smiled and clasped his hand around Rose's knee. "Nah. The old man's probably been dead a while. Humans don't really survive all that well – or for long – with a parasite that big living inside of them. Especially when they're sentient aliens." He kicked the van into gear and took off toward the playground where a group of mothers were being attacked. As he pulled to a screech beside them and Rose ushered the mums inside, he asked, "Feel better?"

"Much."

Rose pointed and yelled, "There!"

The Doctor took off driving toward the gate to the community, wheels of the van squealing to a halt. Rose and the man urged the family of four in and, when Rose closed the back door, he took off driving toward the Ponds' cottage at speed. They quickly dropped the large group of people off at a church, with a warning to not answer ('Barricade, Doctor!") the door, and then drove desperately toward the cottage.

The van jerked to a halt outside the cottage and Rose whispered, "They've got it surrounded. What do they want with them?"

"They just want everyone to pay, whether they're responsible or not." He left the van running and hopped out. "Here, hop into the driver's seat. I'll go in and get the rest of the troops. You're our getaway driver, okay?"

Rose bit her lip but nodded. She smiled, leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead. "Got it, Clyde."

The Doctor smiled as he shut the door, but before he walked away, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Rose's mouth. "Be right back, Bonnie."

The shattering of glass and screaming filled the air, coming from the back of the house. The Doctor took off at a run, his hearts picking up speed as visions of two dust piles danced in his head. He hadn't been paying proper attention to the Ponds this adventure, what with Rose coming onto the scene, but when this was all over, he vowed that he and Rose would take the other couple to a nice spa planet. Aljorban sounded about right, with some of the best birthing facilities available as well.

He heard Amy shout for Rory as he jumped up on the trellis and climbed swiftly. However, all that would be become moot if he didn't save them now. He landed on the patio roof and grabbed the back of a possessed old lady ducking into the window and threw her off the roof. He winced and tried to keep the comfort he'd given to Rose in his mind.

The Doctor stuck his head in and said, "Ah, hello. Amy. Rory? What's going on?"

Amy's stricken eyes slashed the Doctor through his hearts and he turned to Rory. He heard the man whisper, "No. I'm not ready."

Amy reached for her husband, crying. "Stay."

As he slowly turned to ash, Rory looked at Amy and admonished, "Take care of our baby."

"No. No. Come back," Amy wept. Her breath wheezed out in fits and starts and she turned toward the Doctor, tears spilling unabashedly down her face. She pointed at the dust that was Rory and demanded, "Save him. You save everyone. You always do. It's what you do. Save him!"

The Doctor's face fell and he lowered his head, both in respect to the recently deceased and in remorse. "Not always. I'm sorry."

Amy released a loud, heartbroken howl and fell to her knees, hands touching the dust. She hiccoughed, wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to the Doctor, eyes cold.

"Then what is the point of you?"

The Doctor clenched his fist and lowered his eyes, nodding. Quietly, he coaxed, "We need to go."

He pulled Amy up from the floor, but she thrashed in his arms, reaching for Rory and whimpering. The Doctor struggled with her down the hall and then the stairs, pushing her out the garden door and toward the van. She dragged her feet, eyes and arms still reaching for the house. The Doctor died a little bit inside.

He murmured platitudes into Amy's hair and was only vaguely aware of a door closing when a battalion of old people surged around the corner of the cottage. He grimaced as he tried to drag Amy further away, but this body wasn't as brawny as his leather jacketed self and her pregnant weight was too much for this slighter body.

"Here," Rose puffed. She slipped in under Amy's other arm and wrapped her around Amy's waist. The Doctor nodded and then sighed, with relief, as Rose's help sped them up immensely. Worry was etched deeply into her face and she asked, "What the hell happened? Where's Rory?"

The Doctor shook his head, eyes wide, as Amy wailed again. Rose's lip trembled and she gasped, tears welling up. They ran to the van, chased by the sounds of angry, alien pensioners. Slipping Amy into the van was easier than the Doctor would have believed from previous experience, but by the time they'd gotten to the automobile, she was fairly catatonic. Hiccups and little whimpers fell erratically from her mouth.

Rose hopped behind the wheel, eyes on Amy in the rearview mirror, as she revved the engine and took off. The Doctor laced his fingers through the hand Rose had on the shifter, quelling the faint shaking she couldn't control. A quiet 'thank you' drifted to him and he nodded.

Suddenly, Amy sat up, eyes slightly deranged and hair a tangled mess. "This is the dream. Definitely this one. Now, if we die here, we wake up, yeah?"

Rose cast a questioning eye to the Doctor. He shrugged and then turned to Amy.

"We already died in the other reality, Amy. That was the dream."

Amy shook her head in denial, snot flowing from her mouth and tears sparkling once more in her eyes. She turned desperate, her eyes jumping from the Doctor to Rose continuously.

Her voice cracked and she breathed, "Either way, this is my only chance of seeing him again. This is the dream."

The Doctor reached out gently for Amy's arm and caressed it comfortingly. "Why do you say that? You know we died in the other reality."

Amy renounced the Doctor's words with a vigorous shake of her head. "Because if this is real life, I don't want it. I don't want it." She started screeching hysterically and looked at Rose. "You know, would you-you wouldn't, if he died and you'd never, you know." She turned to the Doctor, "You know! I love Rory, and I never told him. But now he's gone."

"Amy…" The Doctor reached out to try comforting her again, but Amy, unhinged by her grief, pushed the Doctor's hand away and lunged over the front seat, grabbing the wheel and swerving over the curb. Rose never had a chance to lift her foot off the accelerator and they crashed spectacularly into a stone shed.

The Doctor watched, hearts in his mouth, as Rose flew through the windshield. He could see every twitch, every change of expression in her eyes and face, as if the world had been put in slow motion.

The world was filled with the twisting of metal and the shattering of glass, with the Doctor's shouts of 'Rose' and 'no', with Rose screaming for the Doctor and Amy's forlorn crying. And then it stopped. Sudden silence.

The Doctor shot up, gasping, panicking, eyes roving around for Rose. He heard as, behind him, Amy and Rory both gasped awake. Scrambling to his feet, the Doctor turned and took stock. Amy stared at Rory, eyes streaming tears.

"Something happened. I- What happened to me? I-"

Amy screamed in joy and launched herself at him, arms nearly strangling him. He smiled and hugged her close, face brightening even more when she sighed, "I love you. So much."

"Oh. Oh, right. This is good. I am liking this. Was it something I said? Could you tell what it was so I can use it in emergencies, and maybe birthdays."

Amy giggled and said, "Shut up, stupid."

The Doctor smiled tremulously, eyes moist, as he witnessed what was truly a glorious reunion. But his hearts weren't entirely in it. Oh, he was glad Rory wasn't actually dead, but Rose… oh, Rose. "

Amy paused in her tender whisperings and pulled lightly away from her fiancé. Eyes wide and now clouding with sadness, she whispered, "Doctor. I'm sorry. I-"

The Doctor shook his head and held up a hand. Guilt in his voice, he said, "She'd never been. Not really. I'd just been too caught up in her to recognize the signs. I had… omens, but they were all explained away. Perfectly."

Rory, silently watching, stepped forward and laid a hand on the Doctor's arm. "But if it was all generated by the Dream Lord, how did he get everything about Rose so right that you didn't notice the difference?"

The Doctor huffed a smile that faded almost instantly. "Because I know who he is."

He ran down the transparent ramp and to the underbelly of the console. He opened the bottom of the time rotor, pulled out his sonic and stuck it into the dark. He did a quick search and grunted when he found what he was looking for. Pulling it out, he closed everything up and made his way topside.

In his hand, small yellow kernels of something rested. Amy and Rory crept closer, leaning in to get a better look.

"Any questions?"

The Doctor's voice was back to normal, vibrant and childlike. Happy. He could see in Amy's eyes, even in Rory's, that they didn't believe him, but they said nothing. The Doctor was grateful.

Amy pointed and asked, "Er, what is that?"

"A speck of psychic pollen from the candle meadows of Karass don Slava. Must have been hanging around for ages. Fell in the time rotor, heated up and induced a dream state for all of us."

He contemplated the pollen for a moment more before walking to the doors and, once they were open, blowing the little nuisance into space. He stood there, staring out.

Rory broke into his reverie, asking, "So that was the Dream Lord then? Those little specks?"

The Doctor closed the door, cutting off his contemplation of the cosmos. He shook his head as he turned and said, "No, no. No. Sorry, wasn't it obvious? The Dream Lord was me. Psychic pollen. It's a mind parasite. It feeds on everything dark in you, gives it a voice, turns it against you. I'm nine hundred and seven. It had a lot to go on."

Amy and Rory exchanged significant glances and the Doctor wondered if they actually though they were being subtle, before Amy spoke again.

"But why didn't it feed on us, too?"

A slightly condescending twist to his lips preceded the Doctor's uttered, "The darkness in you pair, it would've starved to death in an instant." He gazed at the pair with genuine pride. "I choose my friends with great care. Otherwise, I'm stuck with my own company, and you know how that works out."

Amy didn't let the mush distract her and asked, "But those things he said about you. You don't think any of that's true? About-about Rose-"

The Doctor quickly spoke over Amy as he busied himself with the console. "Amy, right now a question is about to occur to Rory. And seeing as the answer is about to change his life, I think you should give him your full attention."

"Yeah. Actually, yeah."

He turned toward Amy and the Doctor and said, "Because what I don't get is, you blew up the Tardis, that stopped that dream, but what stopped the Leadworth dream?"

Amy smiled shyly and announced with a little embarrassment, "We crashed the camper van."

"Oh, right. I don't remember that bit."

"No, you weren't there. You were already-"

"Already what?"

Amy's breath hitched as she breathed out, "Dead. You died in that dream. Mrs. Poggit got you."

"Okay. But how did you know it was a dream? Before you crashed the van, how did you know you wouldn't just die?"

"I didn't."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The Doctor smiled, more brightly this time, for his friends. He may not have Rose, something he's clearly been regretting since the day it happened, but at least Amy – with the help of a dark part of the Doctor – understood where her affections should lie, grand life of travel or no. He heard two pairs of feet start to retreat and sighed in relief. He needed to be alone. To remember and to mourn. And to keep those emotions alive. Because suppression clearly only bred contempt; if he kept the love open in his heart, maybe he'd actually have a chance to come to terms with how he'd messed up… if not actually move on.

Sighing, he scrubbed his hands across his face and stayed like for moments. A light brush across his sleeve startled the Doctor out of his thoughts and he turned to look at Amy. Her eyes were big and sympathetic and, as he turned more toward her, she pulled him in for a deep body hug.

"I'm sorry."

"Amy," the Doctor sighed, "please don't."

She pulled away and harrumphed, her signature ire flaring up slightly. But she nodded.

"I just, I had a question. Why did the Dream Lord talk to Rose like she was real?"

The Doctor lowered his head before the pain and self-loathing he felt could show on his face and alarm Amy. But he answered, voice low and rough, with the truth: "If he didn't address her, it would have looked suspicious. He needed me to think she was real, to keep me embedded in the dream, forever, so the pollen could feed. He didn't take into account your conviction, Amy. And… it was me. Or at least, a part of me. I'd always wondered if I'd done the right thing, leaving her. Now, I have this fear she may have been changed by her connection to the TARDIS – and there's nothing I can do about it."

Last night's psychic experience was a choice not only for the Doctor, Amy decided, but for her, too, in a way. She'd been pushing Rory away in favor of her Raggedy Man and that just wasn't the thing to do. But watching him die in that very real dream world had driven home how much she cared about him, which had always and regrettably been overshadowed by her obsession with the Doctor. Her hand tightened around Rory's as they wandered slowly through the halls, talking animatedly. She just couldn't take her eyes off of him, from those gentle brown eyes to that lovable, spiky blonde 'do.

Well, no more second best for my fiancé.

If she was honest with herself – and she knew she hadn't been for so very long now – it wasn't just seeing Rory killed by scary old people that had driven home how skewed her vision of what was going between her and the Doctor (though, of course, it was like 99% of it), it was also seeing the Doctor's past, seeing how he felt for someone else. The Doctor'd never lost control for Amy like that, except when the anger was focused at her. Her epiphany had smoothed things over that had been awkward since Venice – even before (she'd still kill to see the Doctor pop out of a cake at a bachelor party) – and now Rory seemed more upbeat. This made Amy smile. It wasn't all sunshine and daisies, though. She and Rory would have to discuss his perfect future and her own because she had no intention of being stuck in a small, unexciting town.

As Amy and Rory passed through the console room, that smile faded when Amy caught a glimpse of a new statue that sat atop the balcony, opposite the exit doors, and near the Doctor's room. Fortuna - better known as Rose.

Rory paused in his step, pointing, and asked, "Is that…"

"Long story, come on."

They made their way to the galley quickly, but slowed their pace when, upon entering, they spotted the Doctor. His head was in a supersized bowl of custard and fish fingers and head-sized teacup sat next to his elbow, steaming away. His hair looked like a bird had nested in it and his eyes, from what Amy could see, were so red they fairly glowed.

Concerned, Rory started to ask if the Doctor was okay, but Amy smacked him in the side and, when he looked at her, shook her head vigorously. She ushered Rory farther into the room and indicated he take a seat while she made them tea.

It was awkward, for the first few minutes, with the only sound the splashing of milk into mugs and the boiling of water. Glancing at the Doctor, Amy winced. He hadn't really spoken to her since last night, just answered questions that Rory had to repeat. It didn't matter that, in her grief, they'd discovered that they were both dreams, though. All that mattered to the Doctor was that he'd lost Rose – again, it would seem.

Rory glanced between Amy and the Doctor, an uncomfortable grimace flashing across his face, and he started drumming his fingers on the table. He cast an apologetic glance back at Amy before opening his mouth.

"So, Rose-"

It was like a magic wand had been waved. The Doctor dropped his uneaten fish finger (floppy and cold, Amy noted) into the custard and popped up from the chair, smile fixed determinedly onto his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing out most of the tangles, and his eyes seemingly brightened the red tint fading. To look at him, no one would ever know that he'd been sad, let alone cried.

It hit Amy, then, if the last day hadn't drove it home enough, that she didn't really know the Doctor. Not at all. He was clearly an expert with masks, with misdirection and obfuscation. She'd learned that over the last month or so of traveling with him, but she clearly hadn't known to what extent. Before yesterday, Amy would have said she knew the Doctor the best, that he trusted her the most out of everyone. Before yesterday, her delusion that she'd known the Doctor for most of her life had still been securely intact.

Amy's drop was hard and fast and painful and she knew that there was some serious soul searching and evaluation of her life in the future. But first, she had to fix the Doctor.

"Maybe you could just go back for her?"

The Doctor cast a confused look at Amy, only this time, she wasn't fooled. "Her who?"

It was to be like that, then. Amy had thought that a night without questions and concerns would have changed things, but the Doctor wad even more closed off now that he'd been yesterday. So Amy opened her mouth, dander up, but stayed her words when Rory laid a calming hand on her arm. She turned to glare at him, only to come face to face with his pleading eyes. She turned toward the Doctor again, taking in his shifty feet and the grin that – if it was any wider – would break his face into a million pieces.

You really should learn when not to push, Pond.

Smiling widely, Amy asked faux-enthusiastically, "So! Where to next?"

3.8

Rain pelted angrily on the tin roof of the shanty Rose had holed up in, obscuring the sounds of her pursuers. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her gun from the holster and the clip from the gun. One bullet left. She cursed, forcefully slammed the clip back in and crouched, gun held at the ready. Drops of water dripped onto her chest from her hair and face and she shivered. The wind kicked up, howling through the canyon she'd taken refuge in, and rattling the flimsy tin of her shelter.

The feral howls of the Drowgs on her tail kicked up in response, a couple echoing from the ridge just above her head. Rose breathed in deeply and held it, her body taut and ready to move. The howls abruptly cut off when another, larger gust of wind blew through the valley, kicking her scent out and up.

Swallowing, Rose closed her eyes and quietly cocked her gun. Sweat broke out on her forehead despite the icy onslaught of weather and she groaned as she cast herself forward into her timeline. Her muscles started to shake from the strain as she ran through the most forthright path to escape. The trail to the north was mired in mud and dead branches and her hair was slicking to her head as the rain started to pelt down even harder, blurring her visions.

Her breaths fell in gasps, each one counting out her frantic heartbeats as she ran. Heavy panting was in close pursuit and Rose fancied she could feel the hot, clammy breath of the creature caress her nape. She looked back, eyes wide in fright, but there was nothing. Just the rain and the mud and the wind. And the sound of dozens of gaping mouths, puffing as the owners pushed their limbs to the fullest.

Rose whipped her head about, looking for any nooks that were big enough for her to slip through but too small for her pursuers. Lightning flashed, illuminating the canyon but blinding Rose momentarily. As the white faded, all she could see were shadows upon shadows of every shape and size. She squinted, and was about to move forward, when a warning growl behind her scared her hair on end. She tried to turn, to fling herself out of the way, but searing pain lanced through her.

Jerking to reality, Rose gasped in agony and clutched her side. She bit her lip to stifle her sounds, every little shift rattling the pain around a bit more. Breathing deeply through her nose, Rose turned to carefully lift up her shirt, wincing and near-whimpering as the material stuck to her seared skin. Finally, glaring at her under the occasional light from the lightning strikes, was revealed a long, clawed hand print standing stark against her skin. The elongated fingers, nearly nine inches all, ended in gouges into her skin where the thing had started the energy transfer.

The sound of sizzling faded under the gale outside, but the smell of burnt meat lingered. Grimacing, Rose whispered, "Clearly I was under the misapprehension that the amount of life energy drained was a slow process. Shit."

Rose reached up to delicately touch the edge of the energy burn, already healing, but at a much slower rate than was her body's usual pace, and winced.

"Going by the rate of burn, I'd say the bastard sucked off about 50 years of my life." Rose shrugged, undaunted. "Probably a drop in a bucket."

Pulling her jacket off, Rose also divested her shirt, ripping it into pieces and soaking it in the muck on the floor. She wrinkled her nose as the substance wafted its smell, but muttered, "Perfect."

She padded her wound and tied it around her waist, then shrugged on her cargo jacket. It should work, the foul odor covering the distinctive scent of burned flesh. Breathing deeply once more, Rose searched her memories. There had to be something of value in that timestream, something that could help her out of this mess. She closed her eyes.

Unbidden, River's voice popped into her head: You know very well that when you call, he always comes running. Do you know how many women would kill to have… that?

Huffing, Rose shook her head and tried focusing again, eyes squeezed shut tighter. The Doctor and his TARDIS would be an all you can eat smorgasbord to the Drowgs and if that man and ship arrived – the creatures would be nearly unstoppable. In any case, Rose didn't need the Doctor to help her out. She was a big girl.

Jack flashed through Rose's mind, so vibrant that she nearly fooled herself into believing that they hadn't gone their separate ways for the month, chiming in to the uninvited party in her head.

Your pride is going to lead to your death someday. Just forgive him and put us all out of our misery.

Lashing out, she thought, It's not anger that's keeping me away. I have reasons! She growled under her breath and shook her head vigorously before she settled again.

Teeth gritted and eyes now firmly staring at a bolt three feet up the opposite wall, Rose concentrated on clearing her mind of random thoughts and festering emotions, bringing forth the images in her vision. As she breathed deeply in a steady rhythm and actively engaged in her failsafe technique – focused mediation -, all thoughts fled her mind, leaving behind nothing but the sight and sounds and smells of her future trek.

Pelting rain obscured her vision, flashes of lightning blinded her again, there were the shadows upon shadows and then…. there. A pile of boulders rested precariously atop a small ledge.

If I could just make it past that before they get too close, and hit my mark, I could injure them enough to have time to catch my ride.

Decision made, Rose snapped out of her meditation and crept to the door. She knelt and pressed herself flush to the door, surveying the only ledge she could see from the lone window. Through the raging tempest, she counted six Drowgs, all standing in a row. Silent. Waiting.

Sniffing disdainfully, Rose sat back on her bum, one knee up and resting on top, the hand with the gun. They're playing with her. She didn't know how long they've known she was shacked up in the shanty, but it didn't matter. They'd probably herded her there in the first place.

Breathing deeply, once, twice, Rose braced herself for the run. It would be difficult, her body was still tired from her walk through her timestream, but she was never one to not try. She quickly pulled her sonic out and suped up her gun. One measly energy bullet would need all the help it could get to create a rock slide.

Rose stood and stretched her muscles, still shaking with exertion, then tied her hair out of her face. She hopped in place to loosen any cramps she'd acquired while hunkered down for so long and then launched into motion. The blast of wind that howled into the room ripped the breath from her lungs and the rain – now sleet – clawed into her skin. She nearly lost traction as she raced out of the shanty and into the mire that the canyon floor had become, but the moment she'd left her shelter, she heard the squelch of mud between the Drowgs toes as they landed – it was quite the incentive to keep upright.

She didn't bother to look back, she just ran. Her muscles were on fire and her lungs burned with every breath. Her side twinged and sent radiating pain down into her thigh and up into her chest. It was hard to ignore the eating away the wound seemed to be doing. It was a bit alarming because Rose was almost certain the wound was still draining away her life energy. And it was starting to smell a bit necrotic.

At least, I hope the smell is from my side and not because they are actually that close.

Looking back always slowed the process of escape, Rose has learned, so she focused on the path she'd watched herself take in the time track, avoiding the obstacles she'd fallen prey to before. The ground started inclining unexpectedly and Rose finally stumbled, a knee slamming violently into the rock and sludge. She winced, the sound of her fall alerting the Drowgs to her exact location. Grabbing two handfuls of muck as she rolled over and pushed herself up, Rose flung it as hard and as far as she could, then turned and continued running. The sounds of pained grunts and loud thumps followed behind her and she smiled, knowing she'd hit a few of them and at least one had gone down. Hopefully tying up the others.

Rose came to a skidding stop. She'd run a bit off course. The dark and rain had thrown off her direction and now she wasn't certain whether she should take a chance and jump off the incline – there might be Drowgs up above – or not (there might be Drowgs down below). Biting her lip, she made a snap decision and ran up. The lightning flashed high above and far away, but it was enough to illuminate the rock grouping – this time from behind.

Grinning fiercely, Rose hopped down onto the small ledge, behind the biggest boulder, and released the clip from her gun. She slipped out the bullet and then her sonic. Setting 13/apple3 was always good for a bit of concussive force. The prepared bullet was placed strategically, so Rose climbed rather noisily onto the largest boulder and grunted as she launched herself off.

To minimize any damage, Rose tucked and rolled as she hit the ground. The Drowgs followed swiftly after and Rose was slightly off-put as she realized how close they'd gotten. She winced – she'd have to keep them occupied just a little longer than intended.

The Drowgs stood from their quadrupedal position, the grotesquely sleek rounding of their bodies straightening into thin, lopsided and drooping giants, and started to close in. Rose turned slowly, aligning her back with the canyon wall. The ledge had a little lip, she should be fine if she pressed up against the rock. The Drowgs leisurely crowded in, the gaping maws that were their mouths stretched in obscene parodies of a smile. Rose held a continuous, slow tread backward, her eyes bouncing from each face.

"You smell delicious, golden one."

Rose scrunched her nose as the rancid smell of the speaker's voice wafted over her. She could tell he wasn't the one who'd clawed her in the vision – no, that one was the only one of the group whose body wasn't the least bit necrotized. But she realized, with extreme horror, that the slurred speech of the speaker had gradually become more solid. Her eyes darted to the creature – and widened when she saw that where its mouth had once been nothing but sagging flesh and tendons, it was now tighter, and getting more form as it crept closer to her.

This was not good. Rose cast a surreptitious glance upward, calculating the time left on the slow burn she'd put on the bullet, and then swiftly back down again.

"Well, I did put on a strawberry spritzer this morning, so thank you for noticing."

Guttural hacking drowned out the pouring of the rain and Rose realized with disgust that this was their laughter. She backed up as their odor wafted toward her and blinked when her back hit the rock wall. Ducking her head, she smiled and counted down the last remaining seconds. At one, she plastered herself against it as much as she could and closed her eyes.

There was a loud sonic boom and a sound like a stampede. The Drowgs scrambled back but they were too slow as jagged rocks and debris, shale and large boulders showered down on them. Rose chanced a glance, letting out winces and little 'ouches' as bone snapped and flesh pulverized. The slide lasted a few more seconds and when the last large rock fell, Rose pushed off from the wall and took off to the incline. She was glad she'd accidentally found it. If she had to spend time looking for an exit from the bowl she'd gotten herself in, the landslide would have been for nothing. Based on the evidence she'd just gathered, she now knew they'd only be out for a little while.

Bursting in like Rose had (and looking like the battle scarred crazy with an itchy trigger finger that she did) had shocked the occupants of the saloon sufficiently enough that when she demanded to know where the whereabouts of the Merchant, she was answered immediately – and truthfully. She stalked through the room, glower on her face, and into the back. She kicked open that door, too, and had her gun at the ready when she came face to face with the Merchant and a couple of his clients.

The Merchant froze in his eating, his eyes glued to Rose, wide and panicked. The other two men, half-stood and hands hovering – caught mid-motion - above their holsters, eyed the anomaly warily. Rose catalogued them in one sweep and then dismissed them, eyes scowling intently into the Merchant once more.

"Out," she bit out. The two men didn't think twice and bolted, going so far as to leave their money pouches behind. The side of Rose's mouth twitched, but she wasn't sure if it was in pleasure or dismay that she could now scare people so much that, with just one word, they'd leave. She was never sure.

The Merchant's breathing was loud and fluttery, which made his large jowls wobble repulsively and his dirty handlebar mustache quiver. His sweat kicked up to double time, filling the small back room with a stench Rose would have liked to go her whole life without smelling, and his paunch threatened to spill out of his too tight shirt and vest with every breath.

Rose gagged and commented, "Ever heard of soap?" She gestured with her gun for him to sit and the man stumbled back into the ornate oak chair behind his desk, the chair creaking with his weight.

"Now, hasn't your mum ever told you it isn't polite to drug women, take their stuff and then dump their bodies in abandoned caves where freaky Drowgs await to drain them of every last drop of life?"

The Merchant took a deep breath and squeaked out, "Not in so many words, no."

Rose smiled coldly. "Funny."

"H-how are you even alive? They-they said it didn't matter if their prey wa-was dead as long as they weren't cold y-yet."

Rose smirked and leaned back against the walnut paneling that covered the wall. "A dose like that may kill others, but it only makes me slightly sick. Now, why are the Drowgs after me?"

The Merchant puffed up, bravado falling across him like a blanket. Rose would have been impressed if she hadn't witnessed and then smelled – literally – his fear earlier.

"That information will cost you."

One of Rose's eyebrows raised slowly, deliberately, and the Merchant swallowed noisily.

"The thing is, Merch – I can call you Merch?, is that I'm the one with the upper hand here. So, if you don't want Stormcage – or worse – you're going to tell me everything you know. And you're going to give me my manipulator and pack. Now."

She holstered her gun, as much for show as waving it about had been, crossed her arms and stared at the sniveling man. Rose moued in disgust as some mucous matted down his mustache. Without any further posturing, the Merchant flailed out of his chair and hurried to the large trunk ensconced in the corner. Rose silently shadowed him, so she was ready when he pulled a sonic blaster out. She gripped his wrist and twisted, wringing a cry and an open hand from him. She caught the blaster in one hand, then tapped it impatiently against her thigh.

"Really? You were told to drug me. You didn't think there was a reason for that?"

Rose's sardonic tone got the Merchant's back up, for about three seconds, before he turned dejectedly and pulled a battered leather messenger bag and her manipulator from the corner. Rose gestured to the desk and the Merchant poured the contents out. She catalogued the paraphernalia, nodded, and indicated he should re-pack everything.

"Thank you, well, not really, but I was raised polite," Rose murmured, placing the bag's strap over her neck and shoulder and buckling her manipulator in place. A quick sonic scan indicated no tampering with the parts and that her firewalls had held up under multiple hack attempts. Satisfied, Rose turned to the trunk, but kept an eye on the Merchant, and rifled through. She found a dozen clips of energy bullets and smiled gleefully.

"I'll just confiscate these," she commented idly. She traded the sonic blaster for the clips and stuck them into her pack. Looking straight at the Merchant, Rose drew out a metal bracelet and slapped it onto the Merchant's wrist before he could protest. "Now, I can transport you back to your home planet and leave you to punishment there… or, I can take you to the Shadow Proclamation. Your choice. I hear the Proclamation uses… unsavory methods of interrogation." She paused. "Do us both a favor and just tell me now. I really wouldn't like your maiming and torture on my conscience."

Eyes bulged out and face flushed, the Merchant blurted everything he knew. Which, disappointingly, wasn't much.

"You were willing to hold out against me for that?" Waving it off impatiently, she muttered, "Never mind. Off we go. The Drowgs are on the prowl again. Can you hear?"

The Merchant nodded forcefully, blubbering. "They'll kill me! They'll say it's my fault you didn't get enough dosage and-"

Rose sighed and activated her manipulator, attempting without much success to block him out.

4.2

The Doctor was being a mope. He knew it. Amy and Rory knew it. The TARDIS definitely knew it, but she was – surprisingly - not being a grouch about it. The whole… thing with the pollen and his inner darkness and- and Rose was ruining his fun-Doctor-travel time. Unused to actually dealing with the harsher emotions, instead of suppressing them, it was a surprise that to the Doctor that things didn't perk up. At least a little.

And he wanted to run, to just lock everything up, forget about it, and run. But he couldn't do that. Not to Amy and Rory, not to himself… and he'd made a promise to Rose. That he'd never forget her, never relegate her to the past like Sarah Jane and all the rest. He'd hurt that girl too often to be okay with breaking something else.

The Doctor snorted. And it only took nearly being an all you can eat buffet for eternity (or as long as my mind held out) for psychic pollen to get to this point.

Noises from down the hall alerted the Doctor to that the Ponds were done with breakfast and he brightened. It was time to be the fun designated driver again. The poor souls had been subjected to broody Doctor for weeks. Dealing with things didn't have to affect his passengers. He smiled as the two walked into the room.

They eyed him warily as his eyes danced and he ran around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers, and shouted, "I've got just the place! Abba Dabra Cabra! The universe's largest – and most fantastical – magic show planet. Geronimo!"

He punched the dematerialization button and whooped in joy. The human's had a proverb: fake it till you make it. Much better than his own: fake it until you can pretend it never happened.

4.1

Rose groaned as she rolled over and shoved her face into her pillow. Jack tsked and tossed her nightgown up, uncovering her side. He then unwrapped the foul smelling bandage, nose wrinkled, and exposed the still festering hand print that marred her skin. He winced.

"Rose, it's been two weeks and this thing is still necrotic."

"Mpfhmpfmpf."

Sighing, Jack ripped the pillow off her face and threw it across the room, ignoring the cross look she speared him with.

"I said: it's healing. It was nearly a foot long, now it is only four inches."

Jack dropped his face into his hands and growled. "But it's still necrotic! How much energy do you think that one Drowg has drained from you? Is still draining from you! It could have been a century, two, five!"

Rose sighed and propped her head up on her hand, staring gently at Jack. He felt the tingle of eyes boring into him and lifted his face. She smiled that smile that he fell in love with so long ago – and would love until his dying day.

"I know you want me around as long as possible, Jack. Truth be told, I'm not keen on dying today or any other day, but when I do go, I won't have any regrets. I won't think, 'I'm too young to die!' I've lived a long, long time. Maybe not as long as you, but nearly half way, yeah? So what's a few centuries anyway? We don't even know how long I'll live. Might be as long – or longer – than you, might be a couple thousand years. However many, you'll always have me, all right? I swear, I'm not being cavalier about my life."

Jack expelled the breath he'd been holding and slumped onto the bed, curling into Rose's front. She draped her free arm around his middle and snuggled him in, kissing his forehead.

Silence fell and the only noises they heard filtered up from the street. Natural bazar noises: people shouting their haggles, children running about everyone's feet – screaming and laughing, falling merchandise. It was glorious to be able to stay in one place for a while. She'd lost the Drowgs – for now – and she allowed her tension to bleed out of her.

It struck quickly, tightening her muscles again, when Jack murmured, "We need the Doctor's help." His hand landed on Rose's bicep and he rubbed gently. "Rose, if you don't want to be cavalier with your life, then stop avoiding the Doctor because both of him broke your heart." She looked up into pleading brown eyes, her resolve waning. "We can figure out how to stop them; maybe he can."

Rose dropped her head to Jack's chest and released a long, loud, frustrated groan. Jack smirked.

"Well, then, get to tracking."

Rose pressed forward with her hand, launching Jack off the bed. The loud thunk and indignant squawk brought the large smile that had dimmed with the mention of the D word back to full force.

4.2

The Doctor scowled at River as she stepped into view from behind the towering Jubba tree. He grimaced as she sauntered over to him and ran her finger teasingly down his arm. He glowered when she winked and murmured huskily, "Hello, sweetie."

Amy's eyebrows hit her hairline and Rory hid a bemused smirk, but neither said a thing. The Doctor vowed to take them to anywhere of their choice for their discretion.

"River," the Doctor drawled out, the word tasting sour on his tongue. He felt like an ass, being so… discontent with her presence even after witnessing her death, but something about her grated on his nerves the wrong way. It might have been how they'd got here instead of to the planet Abba Dabra Cabra. "Mind telling me how you called my TARDIS?"

Red, red lips spread into a slow smirk and she said huskily, "Temporal Lasso. One use, don't worry. It can't happen again."

The Doctor snapped, "Good. What do you want?"

"Oh, sweetie," she murmured, her hand coming to rest behind the Doctor's neck, fingers tickling his hair. The Doctor increased the power of his glower and reached up, prying her hand from his person and dropping it to her side. River pouted, then smirked and winked.

Before the Doctor could demand she answer his question, Amy stepped up with Rory close behind and barred River access to the Doctor's body. Her scowl was firmly in place, no doubt reacting to the combination of discomfort the Doctor had radiated and the Dream Lord fiasco (she'd become quite enamored of Rose as of late – and protective – the Doctor couldn't fathom it), and placed her hands on her hips.

She demanded quite tartly, "Who are you and why'd you bring us here?"

River's smiled widened and she said, "I'm River Song and I'm from the Doctor's personal future. As for why we're here… I thought we could spend a day together, doing jungle-y safari type things."

The Doctor's scowl deepened even further. "You brought me here for a day of fun?"

Arched brows that the Doctor assumed were supposed to make him feel foolish only stoked his ire and he stepped closer to River, gingerly moving Amy – and, by default, Rory – out of the way, he stood toe to toe with the insufferable woman.

"Do you know how dangerous Temporal Lassos are? And you use it for a bit of fun?"

River sighed and shook her head, like she was taking a child to task, and said, "You really think I'd do that?"

A sound, much like a horse when he's stamping angrily, escaped the Doctor's lips and said through gritted teeth, "I don't know as I do not know you." River's eyes clouded with uncertainty and she opened her mouth. The Doctor cut her off. "One meeting does not constitute 'knowing'."

He let that sink in until she lowered her head, eyes shuttered. Then he finished, "Why are we here?"

River lifted her head and all the playfulness was gone. Her eyes were serious and her flirting packed away. "There's something going on. I don't really know what, but I caught some rumblings of zombie-like creatures traversing the universe. No one really knows what they are or what they want. I thought you might know."

Rory exclaimed incredulously, "Zombies!"

Mind elsewhere, running through all the species he's met and heard of – including scanning mythologies, the Doctor carelessly answered, "Oh, we've run into vampires in Venice, have we not? Though, not true vampires; trust me, you'd never want to meet those. Rose and I met ghosts in Cardiff with Charles Dickens once and a werewolf who tried to eat Queen Victoria. And the Devil."

Rory muttered 'wow' under his breath and the Doctor barely had presence of mind to realize he'd nearly blown Rory's. Seconds later, he pulled out of his memories and said, "Nope. Never heard of or run into any zombie-like creatures." He paused as he stared at River. "What's wrong with you?"

River was stiff with tension, her jaw clenched and her eyes like ice. "Who's Rose?"

The Doctor quirked a brow and really looked at River. She seemed… a bit possessive. Not a trait he was fond of, mostly, though he'd not quite minded with Rose. He opened his mouth to answer - or answer with a non-answer, but his hearts were stopped when a familiar voice filled the grove they were standing.

"That would be me."

The Doctor saw Amy, Rory and River look behind him, which gave him hope that he wasn't having another psychic episode – and fear that they all were having one now – when another voice butted in.

"Golly, Doc. We having a party around here or what?"

The Doctor whipped around like his tail coat was on fire, tripping on his own feet in the process. He fell forward, barely catching himself with the help of Amy and Rory (and River, the Doctor grimaced), and blushed.

Smooth move, Doctor.

He breathed deeply and released it, then ran his hands through his hair, down his face and sides, to the ends of his tweed jacket and proceeded to tug it straight. He moved on to his bow tie and yanked the ends twice, to crisp it up. Grooming done, he finally looked up from the ground and took in a sight he feared very much was not real.

Breath caught in the Doctor's throat. She looked beautiful, as always; the same, yet different. It was in the eyes; not the golden flecks, they'd been there since the Daleks, but something… age. Those were eyes of the very old, the world weary. And she looked not a day over 20. Fears confirmed, guilt bubbled inside of him, nearly stealing his breath, and he had to rest a hand on Amy's shoulder to keep himself upright. He continued taking Rose in, logging every new nick and scar (of there were few), and the litheness she had to her body. Her face was leaner, cheekbones sharper, eyes seemed a bit more slanted but he supposed that had to do with the loss of roundness from her face. She looked more wolfish.

Her hair was… wild. Longer – past her shoulders – and curlier. It looked unkempt, like she didn't have time for beautifying it, but still so lovely anyway. There were braids woven throughout her hair, with small medallions of various metals and shapes tied to the ends. He was fairly sure he could make out one that was from time of the Ottomans. The Doctor was curious, they looked like they all had meaning, but he pushed those thoughts aside for later and looked at her clothes.

Everything Rose wore looked like it had been taken out of a different time and yet, it seemed to work for her. Formfitting black trousers covered her bottom with small and thin, durable but light plate panels that extended down the front of her thighs to stop a few inches above the knee. She had black chain mail vambraces that led into black leather ties around her elbows. Decoration, he supposed, but also quite intimidating. He also assumed the ties connected to the fingerless black leather gloves on her hands. Rose's arms were bare from just above her elbows to the mid-bicep, where more thin black plates covered her arms. The pauldrons came to a point at the ends but ran up into spaulders that snapped around her shoulders to hold the plate cuirass to her chest. Peaking from underneath the armor was a soft cotton black shirt. Her boots were standard combat from the 56th century, sleek but sturdy. She looked intimidating and something in the air told him that was the point.

"You're just as beautiful as the day I met you."

Rose pursed her lips, nodded and murmured, "Thank you. You're… just as unique as ever."

The Doctor huffed a laugh and shuffled his feet. He ducked his head and ruffled his hair, then glanced up through the fringe to ask, "Good different or bad different?"

Eyebrow arched over penetrating eyes that seemed to take stock of him with the same alacrity he'd done her, Rose said, succinctly, quietly, "I wouldn't know."

The answer was like a physical blow and suddenly, the Doctor couldn't breathe. He clutched his chest tightly and hunched over, trying to breathe through the rushing in his ears. He heard Amy shout, at whom he had no idea, and River say 'sweetie' as she gripped his arm, then everyone trying to talk over each other all at once, but all he could focus on was the reverberating words 'I wouldn't know.'

It was seconds, he knew, that had passed, not hours, but he felt the weight of them like were, and he was only jerked out of this depressing spiral by the loud, sharp whistle that pierced that air. Everything ceased – the people talking, the animals in the nearby trees, the Doctor's panic attack. He steadied, lifted his head and torso from where they'd been bent over, leaning on his hands on his knees, and turned to thank Amy for the stabilizing hand on his back.

Fairly newly minted green eyes caught on whiskey-gold orbs and his thanks dried up in his throat. The concern that radiated from those eyes was familiar, more so than the dismissive tone she'd taken with him earlier.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean it to sound like it had. You look good, you always do, but I don't know you anymore. We neither of us know the other anymore, it's been too long. So I can't tell whether it's good or bad or just different. Can I?"

The Doctor nodded along to this logic, but it still seared his hearts to know. He brazenly cupped Rose's cheek, faltering slightly at her miniscule flinch, but carrying on anyway. He held her there, stared into her eyes, studied them further than just seeing an age. When once he could have read Rose's eyes like a book, now he could see nothing. A bastion had been built around those eyes.

The Doctor wondered if that was his doing and he took that pain, he took it and tucked it away in his hearts; right between them both he lodged it, so that he could feel it every day and know that it was his doing, even if just inadvertently. Because there was something different about Rose now, something Bad Wolf – he could sense it. He should have figured it out ages ago – centuries for Rose, it would seem.

The weight of that responsibility settled onto his shoulders and he was grateful for it. It tied him to her even when, it seemed, when she was trying to keep her distance. He recognized all the signs, all the tricks, had used them against her a time or a dozen. He nodded understandingly when Rose gently, firmly pulled her chin out of his grasp.

A mask fell over his features, the same one he wore so many times in their early days of travel, one he wore all the time with Martha and fairly frequently but less with Donna. The smile blossomed bright and fair and he turned to his friends and… River. Pointing, he labeled each, "Amy Pond, Rory Pond ('Williams, Doctor!') and that's Professor River Song."

The woman in question brightened and exclaimed, "Oh! I'm going to be a professor!"

The Doctor pointed at Rose and Jack, saying, "Rose Tyler, aka the Bad Wolf and Captain Jack Harkness, Jack, rein it in."

Jack pouted in the background while Amy whispered, "The Bad Wolf?"

Rose smiled genially at Amy and said, "It's a long story. And we've met before."

Amy blinked. "But I thought all that was just a dream?"

Jack perked up and leered. "Dream? You've been having dreams about my Rosie?"

Rose elbowed Jack, hard, and the Doctor split a grin. She shook her head apologetically and said, "No, sorry. I was talking about River."

Everyone looked to River, who looked entirely blank herself. Rose's expectant smile slid off her face and she mumbled, "Oh. She said this would happen."

Jack nodded. "We'd know her, but she wouldn't know us. Her past is our future, her future is our past."

Rory rubbed his temples and stated, "Okay, Rory's Rules: no talking about weird time things around me. It gives me headaches."

River frowned deeply and pulled out her diary. She flipped through it quickly, eyes jumping back and forth between it and Rose. When she came to the end (which was really the middle), she snapped it shut and looked at Rose suspiciously.

"There's nothing in here about either of you."

Rose smiled enigmatically and said, "There will be."

The Doctor furrowed his brow as his mind finally fought through the joy that had seized his heart and he noted, somewhat sadly, "Your Cockney's gone. You sound vaguely and indeterminately European and all the more enigmatic for it, but where's the Cockney?"

A jaded smile spread over Rose's face and another spike of ice drove deep into the Doctor's hearts. Rose was more changed than he'd realized. He was afraid that in the course of this adventure, he'd find out just how much. He wasn't looking forward to it. "I spent nearly a thousand years flitting around the ancient European continent, Doctor, living in place to place. I guess it just phased out."

The Doctor nodded and tried to smile, but it never quite cracked his lips. There was a story there, though as his eyes caught on the manipulator on her arm, he supposed that answered part of it. He wondered if she'd been here and he'd missed her or if it had been in Pete's World. He wondered about the clone and was about to ask when Jack cleared his throat.

"Look, swell as this family reunion is, we have more important matters at hand."

Jack looked pointedly at Rose and she rolled her eyes, muttered something along the lines of 'mother hen' and then began to unbuckle her cuirass, spaulders and pauldron. She removed it with expert hands and set it on the ground. As thin and formfitting as the armor was, it barely looked as if Rose had removed anything at all. The Doctor wondered what sort of material it had been made of.

His mental wandering was pulled back into focus when Rose lifted her shirt to reveal a bandage and that bandage to reveal -

"Is that necrotic tissue?!"

The words were barely out Rory's mouth when he jumped into nurse mode. He knelt by Rose's side and poked and prodded it while the Doctor frantically scanned her with his sonic. Rose rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys."

She gently pushed Rory's hands away and not so gently swatted the Doctor's sonic out of her space, then covered the wound once more and replaced her armor.

"Rose," the Doctor protested, eyes wide in fear. She calmed that feeling slightly by sending him a smile more along the lines of what he'd been used to, back when she was young, but it didn't stop his attempt to scan her again.

"Doctor, I will throw that thing in the swamp if you don't stop. I'm the Bad Wolf, I'm fine. The wound used to be five inches bigger. I usually heal faster than this, but the creatures that did this are… quite spectacular in their own gross and scary way."

River stepped forward and said, "You have a necrotic wound. I called the Doctor here because I ran into some rumors floating around about a race of zombies. I'd never heard of them and most of the information is just snippets, gossip, quite possibly fairytale." As she spoke, her hand reached out to softly graze the flexible side of Rose's cuirass, right above the wound.

Rose looked down and fingered the metal as well, noting, "Yeah, not so much rumor as actual fact." She rolled her eyes to look up and squinched her face into her thinking expression (blimey, that is still so adorable) and, having made a decision, looked back at the group and continued, "Well, they're not actually zombies and they're not actually always necrotic."

Jack moved at an indication from Rose and pulled off his pack. He reached in and when he pulled out, he was holding a big piece of artist's drawing paper. He turned it around and unfolded it and what the Doctor saw froze the blood in his veins.

Amy gasped and covered her mouth, small retching sounds drifting through. Rory moued in disgust but leaned closer, his scientific side getting the better of him, and River blinked in disbelief.

Rose pointed at the two shapes, commenting, "This is the most accurate picture I could draw. It was either raining so hard I could hardly see a few feet in front of me, or dark or, well it was mostly both. The one on the right is what they look like when they're not on the hunt: abnormally elongated torso with stretched arms and legs to match. The one on the left is on the hunt. They contort to fit their hands onto the ground so they can run on all fours. Their claws are big, thick and sharp, though that's not what makes them dangerous."

Pausing, Rose turned to her own messenger bag and started to rifle through. She looked up every few seconds and imparted more information to the enthralled group. "They're called Drowgs. Don't mistake them for the zombies you see on TV because they're not. They are swift, very swift, great trackers and extremely intelligent. While they sound stupid when they talk with their rotting mouths, once they heal up, it's a different story altogether."

As Rose wrinkled her brow in consternation, Amy spoke up.

"Why are you all sci-fi medieval knight?"

Jack smiled and stated, "Armor plating makes it harder for Drowgs to affect the flesh."

The Doctor twisted his face in confusion and stepped forward, "Sorry? Harder?"

"Harder, yeah," Rose said softly. "But it doesn't completely stop it."

"Rose, why do you know so much about these things?"

The Doctor's voice was filled with unease and he stepped forward, settling a hand on Rose's elbow, eyes boring into hers. She sighed and finally pulled what she had been looking for out of her bag. She handed it to the Doctor and waited as he read it, his own eyes widening. The Doctor felt Amy hovering behind him and peaking over his shoulder. He maneuvered the paper so that she could see.

"That's a Most Wanted poster," she whispered.

The Doctor nodded, then folded the poster up and tucked it into his pocket. He took a deep breath and asked, "Care to tell me why you have a wanted poster, Rose?"

Rose smiled slightly and said, "Because the Drowgs are looking for me and putting up legitimate wanted posters all over half a dozen galaxies makes hunting me legal."

Before the Doctor could ask his next question, Jack piped in, "It also means that someone working for the law is in on it. Someone high up."

Annoyed, the Doctor sent eyes at the captain, saying irritatedly, "Yes, I gathered that, thank you, Jack." He looked back to Rose, "Why are they after you."

Rose folded her arms and leaned back against a tree. "They want what makes me the Bad Wolf."

Eyes widened in realization, the Doctor breathed, "Time energy."

"Time energy," Rose nodded once, emphatically. "These creatures, for whatever reason, necrotize constantly. Energy, usually humanoid, fills them up for a bit, makes them strong and healthy once more (and rids them of their stench). But it doesn't last for long. The average human's life energy leaves the human a dry, mummified husk and gives the Drowg a perfect, odor free body for about a day.

The closer they get to their victims, the slower and weaker their victim gets, because they can apparently sustain themselves on a person's energy the closer they get. With me, well, I don't feel the drain because I've got so much of it, but that just makes them that much stronger and healthier. And if they get me even just a little," Rose gestured to her side, "they get a boost enough for perfect health."

Jack spoke up to the silent group, "We don't know how they found out about her, but she's their number one priority now."

A sweet, warm feeling spread through the Doctor as he realized what Rose being here meant. Smile in his voice, he murmured, "And you came to me for help."

Rose eyed him quickly and said, "Only because Jack kept nagging me. There was something about pride and death, too, but I usually tune him out when he goes all Oprah on me."

There was no vindictiveness, no petty satisfaction in her voice – or expression as she watched the Doctor's features fall. There was only certainty, but it was matter-of-factness so hurtful, she might as well have told him straight out she didn't trust him anymore. And that's when the truth of his reality hit: Rose wasn't just angry at him, or hurt. She didn't hold any belief in him any longer. It was humbling, he found, as his expectations crumbled to dust, encroached on his nose and lungs and choked him. She'd never expected anything of him, wouldn't trust it if she'd even half had.

Out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if there's one thing I believe in, just one – I believe in her!

His belief had never faded, even though it'd been buried beneath the surface, there had never been any doubt that he would have trusted her the moment she showed up again. But Rose's confidence had faded. Thinking back on their time together, he really couldn't blame her. He'd left her twice – both times with another woman in the picture – and both without saying goodbye. Both times breaking the promise he'd made outside that chippy. The last resulting in centuries alone. As he looked into her golden whiskey eyes, the Doctor decided that it wasn't that she couldn't trust him – it was that she wouldn't allow herself to. And that was the worst feeling of all.

Faith once lost is always so hard to come by again. Faith withheld… he didn't think it would be anywhere near possible to do.

Silence filled the dell as the Doctor's hearts fell apart, only to be quickly filled with Jack saying loudly to nobody in particular, "So, who wants to hear the story about me, a pineapple and thirteen naked monks?"

Rory, newer to the Doctor's life and all the more uncomfortable for it, jumped on that bone like a rabid dog and said so eagerly he nearly shouted, "Me! I do, I really do!"

Jack plastered a wide grin (false and strained, the Doctor noted vaguely) on his face and started chattering on, leading Amy, Rory and River away from the Doctor and an unperturbed Rose.

The captain's voice faded into the background as Rose turned to set her pack on the dewy grass, herself following closely behind. The Doctor moved to stand a few feet in front of her and squatted. His eyes were earnest, his hands twisted around his sonic, as he murmured beseechingly, "I've always had faith in you, Rose. Even after you were gone, your name kept me fighting." He knew it was most likely futile, but he had to try. Oh, he had to. "I… I love you."

Rose looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. The Doctor couldn't tell if it was damp from tears or from the sun shining down into the hollow and he decided he'd never hated the sun more. Her lips ticked up in a barely there grin and she said, "Oh, Doctor. I suspect that was the first time I was gone, not the enforced time. And… you kept me fighting too, oh you did. After Canary Wharf and before the darkness, for years and years, and then after… for centuries.

But I'd discovered, Doctor – twice in point of fact -, that while I spent all that time running toward you… you were always, always running away from me. I got lost. Swept through time. Clone you couldn't even wait four years before you gave me up for lost, married someone else and had two kids. So you'll forgive me, Doctor, if my faith's run out."

She stopped speaking then, for a time, let the birds twittering in the trees fill the space that had once been filled with their laughter, and turned her head to gaze at a hive of Pherolax bees. A huge sigh fell from her lips as she watched a pair of bees connect by their underbelly – off to mate for the duration of their surprisingly long lives – and turned her eyes back to him, gazing up though her fallen bangs.

"As for that last… how am I to know it wasn't spurred on by my quasi-immortality?"

The Doctor sputtered in shock, and protestation, and a cold tremor bombarded his nervous system. Rose spoke over his nonsensical noises sedately.

"'Cause you see, Doctor, even if I was inclined to trust you again, do you know how it would hurt when I came to realize that you only instigated anything, told me that, because you now knew I wouldn't grow old on you?"

The Doctor winced, tried to force more coherent objections out of his mouth, but she spoke on, oblivious or not interested.

A smile, so sad and forsaken, spread like molasses over her face, and she whispered, "I would rather have been the woman you loved enough to take the risk, than the woman you came back for because there was no risk to take. Because what is that love worth, Doctor, in the end?"

Coda

As the darkness in the rotunda of the Library encroached ever more solidly, River gazed at the Doctor beseechingly. "Doctor, one day I'm going to be someone that you trust almost as much as-"

The Doctor perked up, ears peeled for the name of someone else from his future, but it never came. River took a deep, calming breath and continued, "But I can't wait for you to find that out. So I'm going to prove it to you. And I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry." River leaned up to him and whispered, "Bad Wolf."

The Doctor jerked back, pain and shock flashing across his face in equal measure, and stared at River.

"How do you know the significance of that? Only two people do and one of them isn't here anymore."

River just looked at the Doctor, allowing the moment to sink into his mind and then asked, near resignedly, "Are we good?"

The Doctor didn't respond, mind still dancing around those two words… and the words of the auger from Pompeii. It was impossible, but… could it be? Hope started to bubble up below the surface of agony and loneliness and for the first time since he'd lost Rose, the Doctor felt lighter again.

"Doctor! Are we good?"

The Doctor turned to glance at River, speculation on who she could be to him (or to Rose, a gloriously traitorous voice whispered) percolating within, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, we're good."

River bobbed her head and smirked. "Good."