A/N: This started off as just a short story, but then it developed a bit and it has a little bit of a bearing on another story I'm just writing. So I thought I'd put this up first.The style it's written in (i.e. from two perspectives) and the title (though that was accidental!) are both inspired by Come Together by Josie Lloyd and Emlyn Rees. And apologies for the shortness of the chapters!


The TARDIS hummed happily to herself, as I put the casing back together.

"There you go, old girl, all fixed up." I patted her. Luckily Rose had already gone to bed or she'd no doubt be teasing me about talking to an inanimate object. I doubted she'd ever accept that the TARDIS was a living breathing thing just like her. Mind you, I was expecting a lot of her; she'd accepted that we could travel in time. She'd accepted slaveens, darleks and werewolves. She'd even accepted a new me. Shouldn't push her too far.

I stretched. It was hard work, fixing the TARDIS. And the poor old girl was getting increasingly more battered all the time. That's what came of travelling billions of years forwards and backwards I guess. I could at least regenerate and Rose… well, Rose had enough lotions and moisturisers and concealers and creams to sink a battleship. The TARDIS only had me.

As I walked down the corridor, the lights flickered on in front of me and off behind me. Energy saving. We'd obviously been pushing it a bit too much lately. Rose certainly thought so, as she'd gone to bed early and left me to tinker around by myself. It wasn't that I minded being alone; I had the TARDIS for company. But somehow talking to a mute being wasn't quite the same.

I'd got used to being lonely before I'd met her anyway. You do when you have no other choice. Wandering around, hoping, just hoping, that just one other person might have survived, might just be waiting for you to find them. Yet knowing that no matter how hard you hope, the truth is the truth. You are the last one.

I stopped in on Rose before I went to bed. She was such an inelegant sleeper. Call me old-fashioned, but I always had visions of girls sleeping in cream sheets with their hair neatly fanned out across the pillow and their mouths crinkled into a small smile. Rose had pretty much shattered that illusion before it had begun. She had one foot hanging out of bed all together, the covers knotted up in a ball. Her hair was tied back scruffily and she hadn't even bothered to take her make-up off. She was still holding a book in her right hand; a rather battered copy of The Da Vinci Code that she'd started months ago. And, yes she was still only a third of the way through. She refused to even let me hold it.

"I don't want to know!" she'd exclaimed when she'd brought it on board. "Don't even think about telling me the ending!"

"As if I would!" I held my hands up in mock surrender. "When have I ever done that?"

"When I was reading that book about the dog at night."

"Well, yes, but…"

"And when I was trying to read The Lord of the Rings."

"Yes, but that was stupid! As if anything like that would ever happen."

Rose had given me a withering look before heading off to her room. That was when she was still getting used to the new me. She was struggling back then, I know. Probably kept expecting to see my huge ears and hear my accent. A number of times I'd seen her about to say something and then do a double-check, before closing her mouth again. Like she couldn't trust me anymore. When we'd gone out, she'd walked straight past me in a crowd before remembering. I hated doing that to her. It was almost as bad as being back at square one again, with us each getting to know each other. Except I already knew her inside out and back to front.