Thirty two years after Bad Wolf Bay

Rose stood at the blue marble counter, sipping her tea, surveying her cramped little flat and wondering what she could modify or upgrade next without getting herself evicted. Slurping the last of the tea, Rose nearly ended up with a mouthful of tea leaves.

Some things changed. Others did not. Her parents had died peacefully within hours of each other last year. Mickey, Jake, and Ricky had steadily aged even as she had not. So had her little brother, Tony.

But other things remained unchanged. The purple paisley sofa and chairs remained in a stolid sort of decrepitude. And the billions of sparks of golden life - well, they burned bright inside the furthest reaches of her mind, some winking out, others replacing them. When Rose had asked if there was another Gallifrey, another Doctor, the Doctor only shook his head, a sad smile on his face. He'd only been right on the second count.

Gallifrey still burned bright, a jewel in the heavens. She very much doubted there was a Doctor, however. Once, in her most desperate days, after Darlig Ulv Stranden, Rose had almost commandeered a ship, and tried to fly to Gallifrey. Rose shook her head at the memory, the hot, tight pain between her hearts flaring momentarily bright.

She set her mug down on the counter, and froze, hearing footsteps. Someone rang her doorbell with a deft hand, and Rose began creeping toward the door, makeshift sonic screwdriver held aloft menacingly. She unbarred the door, and it swung open, revealing Jake. Feeling slightly chagrined, Rose quickly pocketed the sonic, and ushered Jake into her apartment.

Jake was as trim as ever, his peroxide blond hair still slicked into spikes. But there were fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and his eyes were tired. A considerable amount of grey showed through the bleach in his hair. Jake flopped into one of her kitchen chairs, and gazed at Rose, a question in those eyes of indeterminate shade. She looked back at him quizzically.

Jake grinned at her, rolling his eyes, and mimed something crawling across the table. Oh. Rose couldn't help but smile smugly. "They've bugged me alright, but I reversed the feed. It feeds them jumbled up conversation, and tells me what they're saying."

Jake leaned back, his smile fading. "Enough beating around the bush," he said in a London accent much like hers had once been. "They're coming, Rose. Torchwood doesn't care about your reputation as the Wolf, or how many people you've saved. Rumour has it that they want you to build an entire fleet of TARDISes."

Rose stared at him, goggle eyed. She quickly tamped down her emotions. "You can't build a TARDIS. They should know that. It's impossible." So many emotions squeezed her chest like a vise.

Jake smiled bitterly, waving a hand in mock airiness. "So is transdimensional travel. What Torchwood wants, Torchwood gets."

A horrible idea occurred to Rose. "Pull the other one, why don't you? Torchwood can't seriously be thinking of going toe to toe with the Time Lords... They'd be obliterated, and get the rest of the planet erased, or time looped."

He nodded, and Rose could detect a whiff of fear on him. "Exactly…" Jake trailed off, then seemed to shake himself mentally. "They can't get their hands on you. They've had over a hundred years to think about how to break a Time Lord. I've bought you as much time as I can. Run. Run as far and as fast as you can. Get off world if possible."

Rose took a split second to ponder what happened more than a hundred years ago, then she leaned forward and hugged a startled Jake fiercely. "You are the best friend I could have asked for in this universe."

Jake smiled sadly. "Don't let Mickey hear you talking that way."

The next few minutes were a blur of frenzied packing. There wasn't much Rose wished to take with her, just the essentials for survival and a few family photos.

Picking up a photo out of a drawer, Rose had to smile. Taken in front of the playground of the Powell Estates, it showed Rose and the Doctor kissing, while an exasperated Jackie stared into the camera, The Office-style. The Doctor was still in his eighth incarnation, wearing a leather jacket and dark trousers. His flyaway brown curls were cut jaw length, which was plenty long enough to give Jackie a burning desire to visit them with a pair of shears. A tear slipped down her cheek, and Rose hurriedly tucked the photo into her bag.

There was nothing else to pack. A loud crash echoed through the halls outside her flat, and ugly laughter followed quickly on its heels. "Come on out, little Wolf! Time to play." Rose locked eyes with Jake, and he nodded to the fire escape. Rose hefted her bag higher onto her shoulder, and waved farewell to Jake.

A farewell that felt all too final. A few moments later, Rose was on the next roof, hightailing it to the bus station.

Two months later

It was the middle of January, in a quaint little village called Stock. Sleet fell in driving sheets, obscuring the world in a mass of greyish slush, and brownish mud. People darted from one scrap of cover to another, or stayed inside entirely. Rose Marion Tyler was one of the latter.

Rose sat at the picture window of the one local chip shop, slowly chewing on a mouthful of chips, and trying not to remember all the similar 'dates' she and the Doctor had had when he was first recovering from his injuries suffered detonating the Moment. Rose looked up as the proprietor, a tall, skinny man with dark skin, probably in his thirties, sat down across from her.

Wary, Rose glanced up at him. "What do you want?" She deliberately thickened her accent.

The man smiled, and held up his hands placatingly. "I'm Dale Russell. You might not remember me, but you saved my wife's life two years ago, when those Daleks came looking to pick a fight. I owe you, Wolf."

Rose sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "Just stay out of Torchwood's way, alright? They won't hesitate to kill or torture you to get to me."

Dale grew serious. "I'm not just here to thank you. I'm also here to warn you. Torchwood put out a hefty reward for your capture. You need to get out of the country, maybe off the planet. If you have a home, go back to it."

Painful memories flared incandescent, sliding under Rose's skin.

White walls, icy wind whipping a desolate beach. "No touch." Tears sliding down her face. "Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth." He'd said it with such grief stricken pride, that if Rose hadn't been planning on defending the earth, she would've signed up then and there.

The rush of memories was over in a fraction of a second. "This is the only home I've got," Rose said, her voice dead. "My other home is gone." She straightened, fisting her interlaced hands on the table.

Dale looked slightly guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you might be a refugee."

Rose laughed. Even to her ear, it was bitter. "That's one word for it!" Rose stilled, focusing on Dale warily. "Jus' how much did you say the reward is?"

Dale shook his head with a wry smile. "Enough to tempt me, and that's saying something. Ten million pounds, with the first five million up front. Which means…" he looked at her meaningfully. "You really ought to get out of here."

Rose grinned at him, and for the first time in a while, it wasn't forced. "I almost think you're running out of potatoes, what with how eager you are to get me out of here."

Dale clapped a hand over his heart in mock indignation. "Never. You're one of my best customers. One almost wonders why you're in here every day. Surely it can't be the chips."

He was fishing, but Rose didn't really mind. "I'm remembering someone." She stared blindly out the window, a smile wreathing her lips, and remembered.

A bizarre grinding whoosh silenced Rose and froze her in her tracks a few blocks from home. A ghostly police box momentarily appeared, doors gaping wide, and spat out a barely conscious man.

Little had Rose known it, but those were to be the best two years of her life. Rose's eyes widened, and she stared at the enormous fleet of SUVs clogging up the narrow, cobbled street. Springing into action, Rose slapped more money on the table than strictly necessary. "I gotta run!"

Dale Russell crossed his arms and glared at her. "And get captured in three seconds flat? Not happening. Go hide in the back room, second door on the left. You'll be able to see and hear what's going on. I'll bluff them. Go!"

Shooting him an equally steely glare, Rose did as she was told. It wasn't like she'd stay back there if things went to hell. Grabbing her bag, Rose sidled down the short hall, carefully closing the door behind her. Even as Rose settled on a lumpy potato sack, craning her neck to see over the counter, the door slammed open with a cheery jingle.

Boots thumped, and a parade of Torchwood field operatives entered the little cafe. At a signal Rose knew all too well, the operatives fanned out. Rose's stomachs dropped when she saw her friend, pretty little Miranda standing with her gun levelled on Dale, face utterly, terrifyingly blank. Beside her, David, the big, unsubtle leader of the Rose-needs-to-die faction, paced dramatically. Only the conditioning the Doctor had taught her at her request prevented Rose from charging into the other room.

Silence reigned for three terrible seconds, then David wheeled around to face Dale, an awful smirk on his face. "Tell me. Where is our favourite little Wolf? Maybe I'll let you live if you tell me."

Dale put on a confused expression. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. The Wolf came in, and left in a hurry. You can probably still catch her if you hurry." A fake hopeful look came over his face, and Rose winced. He was laying it on too thick. "Do I get the reward? I've got a wife and a little girl to feed."

David ignored the question. "You're lying. How about I kill you, and search this restaurant for the Wolf? I'll bet you twenty quid that she'll come running when I shoot you."

Then things began to happen very fast. Three shots went off in rapid succession. Rose shot out of the back room, fearing the worst. Before she could get her bearings, a bullet lanced out, striking her in the thigh. Red hot agony tore through her. Around her, utter pandemonium reigned.

Rose would've remained there, trying desperately to stanch the arterial flow, until Miranda popped up from pummelling another agent into submission, and shouted at her. "Get out, Wolf!"

Doing an abrupt about face, Rose limped for the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Rose was three steps outside the back door when two things happened. The little sparks of Gallifreyan life all began to flicker and fade. And something hit Rose's time senses like a blow, stripping away every barrier she retained.

Screams echoed in her head, blotting out awareness. Rose fell to the ground, blood puddling across the freezing ground. When Rose became aware again, the silence in her head was almost too much. Only one spark remained, and it felt almost as if it were right in front of her. Guttering like a candle in a strong wind, it might be, but it was in no danger of going out.

Rose stared uncomprehendingly at the vast expanse of peeling, pockmarked blue paint in front of her nose… and then she understood. Raising one fist, Rose banged on the TARDIS, shouting weakly. "Help! Help me, please!" The last thing Rose remembered before she lost consciousness was strong, familiar hands lifting her.