Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Author's Note: Here it is! The fourth episode of the Parallax series. For those just dropping in, you might want to go back to episodes I – III and catch yourself up. Otherwise, this won't make a ton of sense, being an AU and all. The previous episodes can be found on my profile. Their titles are, in order:

Doctor Who: Parallax – I Won't Dance

Doctor Who: Parallax – Counting Stars

Doctor Who: Parallax – Shake It Out

Rose had been entirely too silent for entirely too long. Not that she was ever intolerably chatty, he'd traveled with much more loquacious companions, but he'd been anticipating a conversational opening that would allow him to impart a little secret. That he was speaking of a planet called Barcelona, and not the city. Instead, she'd fallen rather quiet after he'd reiterated the bit about the TARDIS picking up a distress signal, and now, as his ship landed and the Time Rotor wound down, she was leaning over the console and peering intently at the monitor as if the Gallifreyan script would make any sense to her. Once the ship was settled, The Doctor took a second to consider his companion, but he found her expression utterly unreadable.

"Barcelona," she said with an almost reverent hesitation.

"Barcelona," The Doctor confirmed, grinning, "Though, not the city…"

"The planet Barcelona," Rose finished.

"Oh," he said, somewhat deflated, "You've been."

"No, actually," Rose said, finally seeming to shake off whatever mood had struck her and standing upright to face him, "The Doctor meant to take me, but we never quite got 'round to it." It was always a bit odd when she spoke of the other Doctor, like she was talking to him in third person, but he recovered quickly.

"Well, then, now's your chance!" he beamed, enthusiasm renewed, "Shame we're here on business. Maybe later I can show you around."

"You mean after we're done savin' the world?" Rose grinned up at him.

"Well, you know. Priorities," he grinned back.

"Just another day at the office," she shrugged, giving him a gentle punch to the shoulder as she walked past.

"Oi! Hang on,"

"What?" Rose turned around, "Is there a dress code, here?"

"No, I need your mobile," he said, holding out his hand. Rose unsnapped one of her pockets and fished it out, handing it to him, "I realized after we got separated last time I forgot to give your phone a bit of a, shall we say, 'upgrade.'"

"Super phone," Rose nodded, "I suppose that would have been useful," As he turned the smart device over in his hand he gave her a quizzical look.

"So this isn't new to you," he said, one eyebrow raised. Unable to take out the battery and insert an amplifier, he dug out his Sonic and played around with the settings a bit before he found the right one, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Honestly, I just forgot," she shrugged, "Mum and Pete got used to me not callin' for weeks at a stretch." Finished, The Doctor handed back her mobile.

"Well, there you are," he grinned, pocketing the Sonic and heading for the door. Just as she was about to follow him out, the device in her hand commenced a symphony of beeps and chimes as a week's worth of voicemails, texts, and emails hit all at once.

"Hey, hey, hey," she trotted after him, "Switch it off. Make it stop." The Doctor gave her a smug grin as he opened the door.

"Sorry, there's a two-year contract. My hands are tied."

"Mum, mum, mum, mum," Rose recited as she flipped through the seventeen missed calls, eighty-six texts, and three emails on her phone. She only read some of the texts, being the easiest to access in one go, and it was like watching a slow descent into instability and desperation.

"Phone her back later," The Doctor scoffed, "We're on Barcelona, Rose. Look." With a puffy-cheeked exhalation, Rose put her mobile away and looked around at where they'd landed. Her mobile was instantly forgotten. The sky above them was a pale, crystal-clear shade of lavender interrupted only by wisps of dark gray clouds. Directly above, two suns hung in the pastel sky, appearing terribly close to one another. The larger of the two appeared to be a very pale blue, almost white, while the smaller was decidedly pink.

They'd landed at the far end of what appeared to be an open square surrounded by stunning buildings that strongly echoed the medieval architecture from Earth, save that they were made of metal and glass instead of stone. The square was paved with smooth, glass-like black bricks and in the center stood a monument of oxidized copper depicting a uniformed man mounted atop a creature that looked a bit like a giant, six-legged panther.

"Barcelona is one of only two readily habitable planets orbiting twin stars named Isabella and Ferdinand by the explorers who discovered and colonized the system," The Doctor had begun walking, hands clasped behind his back as he lectured, and Rose instinctively followed.

"So… this is a human planet?" she asked, looking around the square to all the people bustling about. The majority of them looked human to her.

"Of course," The Doctor glanced back at her, "You think it's a coincidence there's a planet named Barcelona? By the year 4,000 the seven wealthiest nations on Earth all had established colonies in other solar systems. Needless to say, this system was colonized by Spain."

"Right," Rose said, catching him up, "So, when are we, now?"

"The year 6843, by Earth reckoning. Locally, they track years by the establishment of the first manned outpost, but as the days last only seventeen hours and it takes 479 days to complete one orbit, direct comparisons get a bit tricky."

"You know I don't really care about any of that, yeah?"

"Let me have my fun," he insisted with an air of feigned dignity. Grinning madly, Rose looped her arm through his and leaned her head momentarily against his shoulder. He couldn't help smiling to himself, just a bit.

"Right, so, you said it's one of two habitable planets?"

"Yes, slightly further from the suns lies the sister colony on Madrid."

"Of course."

"The city we're in, now, is Catalonia, the capital. By far the most beautiful, diverse, and advanced city in the system."

"And the location of the distress beacon," Rose surmised.

"According to the scanners, it's centered on the Presidential Palace, only a few blocks away from here."

"Did it say anything, ya know, specific?"

"'Fraid not," The Doctor said as they passed the monument, and Rose angled for a better look. The cat-like creature had a bobbed tail, and the man riding it held a saber out before him. Seemed a bit anachronistic for the year 6843, but given the architecture and the suns named after 15th century monarchs, she supposed a stubborn adherence to tradition wasn't strictly reserved for the British.

"What color was it?" she asked, still looking at the statue as they passed.

"Color?"

"You know, mauve, etcetera."

"Oh, right. Cerulean."

"That means…"

"You just asked if it was mauve and you don't know what cerulean means?" he arched a brow at her.

"I know mauve means dangerous," she offered, pursing her lips.

"I'm afraid I shall have to speak with this other Doctor of yours," he feigned a critical tone, "Cerulean indicates concerned ambivalence."

"That's awfully specific."

"But that's good, Rose," he beamed, "It means there may not be any danger at all. Whoever sent it is merely concerned about a situation they know little about and they 'rang' for a second opinion."

"We came all this way for a cerulean alert?" Rose asked, "And since when are you excited by the low probability of danger."

"There's so much to see, here, Rose," he sounded almost giddy, and Rose found she had to pick up her pace as his stride lengthened in his excitement, "Art and music and some of the finest food to be found in this entire arm of the Milky Way. Just wait 'till you see the coast. All this perched on limestone cliffs hundreds of feet above the Iberian Sea. It's brilliant, Rose, you're gonna love it."

"Let's not forget, dogs with no noses. I was assured that joke never gets old." His enthusiasm was infectious, and Rose found herself heartened by the knowledge they may not have to run for their lives on this trip after all. They had made it across the plaza and were angling down a side street banked on either side by six-story storefronts boasting the same historic architecture in metal and glass. This was clearly a pedestrian thoroughfare, with the same glassy black paving bricks and planters in the middle of the street which displayed delicate-looking trees with bark so dark it was nearly black and crimson leaves swaying gently on the curling branches. People, humans mostly, with a handful of clearly alien species mixed in, mulled about carrying large, brightly colored Mylar shopping bags.

"What joke?" The Doctor asked, still beaming away.

"You know," she nudged him, "Someone says 'I've a dog with no nose,' so their friend says 'How does he smell?' and the first person says 'Terrible!'" The Doctor let out a burst of laughter and looked down at her.

"'S good. Haven't heard that one. And I've heard a lot of jokes, me." Rose's smile faded when he said that, and she stopped in her tracks, letting go of his arm. The Doctor stopped as well, his face falling quizzical.

"You haven't heard that joke?" she asked, in all seriousness.

"Nope, sorry. Can't know everything," he shrugged, then added, "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"You haven't heard the dog with no noses joke, and when we were escaping the dungeon in Cardiff, and I said 'tis but a flesh wound,' you didn't recognize it." She was pointing at him, sounding almost accusatory. What little smile he'd kept vanished, and his brow creased.

"Sorry, is that a problem."

"What about, 'This parrot is no more'?" He shook his head briefly. "Ministry of Silly Walks?" Again, wide, uncomprehending blue eyes and a perfunctory shake of the head, "The comfy chair?!"

"I'm sorry, no," he shrugged, "Is it important?"

"Is it – Oh, God." Rose said, running her hands over her pulled back hair and sitting down heavily on a bench that likely served as a stop for a tram. The Doctor grew concerned, sitting next to her and taking her shoulders in his hands, trying to get her to look at him.

"Rose. Rose, what is it? What's the matter?"

"Monty Python," she finally said, her dark hazel eyes looked hurt and confused, "You've never heard of Monty Python. I got stuck in a universe where Monty Python doesn't exist."

"And that means…"

"I'll never see them again. Not ever."

"Rose, you've been in this universe how long, and you're just now finding this out? Can't have been that crucial."

"'Bout ten years, and I've been busy," she defended, "Don't watch a lot of telly, and when I do its local broadcasts in languages I only speak enough to order a beer and ask where the loo is."

"Well, everyone has priorities," he hedged.

"Shut it, you," she cracked a bit of a smile at that, giving his shoulder a playful push, "Not all of us can recall five billion languages."

"So this Monty Python is – what, exactly?"

"A comedy troupe. The most insane, irreverent, brilliant performers in Britain. The whole world, even. And I'll never see a sketch or a movie of theirs again."

"I'm sorry," he offered, though he wasn't sure exactly what he was sympathizing with her about.

"Not your fault," she brushed aside, "Just really depressing is all."

"Well, let's get your mind off it, then. Up for a little pokin' about? Maybe some danger, intrigue, runnin' for our lives, savin' the world?" he stood up, holding out his hand. Rose took it, letting him pull her, reluctantly, to her feet.

"What's the point?" she asked, though she fell in step beside him, "Not sure this universe is worth savin'."

Footnote: I don't know that Monty Python originated the "dog with no nose" joke, just that they used it, so play along, kids.