The Medusa Cascade is known as the brightest star in the universe. It's roughly the size of a white dwarf, but is about as dangerous as Jack after a cup of Ianto's coffee. Don't stare at me, Jack, you know it's true. From what I've seen.

My name is Lisa Hallett and I am supposedly dead. Well, twice actually if you count Canary Wharf. I've been charged with writing the events as a sort of memorial to all the people involved. At least in Cardiff, this could be seen easily as the End. Or maybe it really was the beginning.

Donna sat, her legs reclined over the abyss of the catwalk. The grate was cold under her feet despite the Tardis being bathed in red light. She found it odd. She only ever remembered the Tardis being bathed in yellow, or green occasionally. These minute things had so much significance it made her head spin. The Doctor hadn't paid much attention to her as he was trying to concentrate on various settings.

"So, where are we going?"

The Doctor looked from his terminal and just kind of stared at her. "I was hoping you'd tell me."

"What do you mean? You don't know where we are going?"

"Well, it's not like Bad Wolf leaves exact directions, does it?!" Donna curled her lips.

"Look, it's been a really long day and clearly we are both upset! Let's not say things we'll both regret!"

"Well that never stopped you before!" The Doctor snarled back at his latest companion, only vaguely aware that he was sorry. His blood was hot and pumping, the wound of Rose's predicament scabbed over. And this new information left it raw.

He couldn't lie. Bitterness had seeped into his brilliance. Every regeneration there were companions loved and lost. But Rose had been more special than any of them. She had seen the world as he had, just briefly. She had come back to him. She had loved him. And he had, well, that didn't matter now.

But where to then?

It was a late night in Cardiff. The kind of night where Jack would perch himself above the cold of the street, wrapped in his greatcoat, and just breath. He'd watch the air form a mist around him and he'd think back to that cigarette that night after he met Estelle. He'd think of the steam that rose from the train yards when he had met the Doctor. He'd do anything to think of the present.

Ianto usually didn't disturb Jack in these moments. His own knowing and politeness of the man kept his reserve up, except in those rare uninhibited moments of invited passion. It was then Jack liked to watch the changes flicker over his face. The struggle for dominance, the leadership abilities, the overwhelming fire that smoldered within. The fire that Jack was sure he hid. Jack smiled; Lisa must have seen it too. It was hard not to see if you loved him enough.

"Jack. You'd best come down. It's freezing."

"Come join me, Gwen!"

Her arms were folded and she was wearing a dark, thin leather jacket. The kind of thing that looked great on models and wind-blown days but was hell to get alien blood removed from. Well, that is unless you were Ianto.

"Normally, I'd love to, but it's late and well..."

"Go home, Gwen. The Rift's been kind to us. Maybe it's mourning too. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right." She lowered her head. "I'll have Rhys drive me home, then."

"Tell him thanks. I haven't told him thanks myself yet."

Jack's head turned away as she moved back towards the ladder. "I will, Jack. I will. Ianto says he'll have coffee waiting for you when you come down." Jack smiled at the thought, waited five minutes, and then moved back to the area Gwen had been standing at.

There was a moment in Sarah Jane's mind where she wasn't quite dreaming, but she wasn't awake. It was the foggy place between memory, perception, and seeing the future. It had been happening more recently. Each week, she would awake, sweating. There was a redhead involved and a man in a suit. He had a sonic screwdriver. It wasn't her Doctor. But she knew by the eyes and the babbling that it was the Doctor.

She brewed herself a cup of tea and looked across the street. The kids were up. Her junior detectives were still awake. The blinking light next to her oven announced that it was two in the morning and she wondered why exactly they were having trouble sleeping. She entered her special room.

"Is anything wrong?" His voice, it always calmed her and gave her a cooler head.

"No. I just thought maybe we'd talk."

"About what?"

"I couldn't sleep." Normally, she didn't want to admit she needed him. There was no need for sentiment like that in their relationship. They'd seen and done too much together. She'd lived now with this facsimile quite happily. Happily might not have been the right word.

"Is a scan in order?"

"Maybe it is. Doctor, did you ever have trouble sleeping?"

The monitor beeped for a second. "My sleep cycles always differed from yours. You know that."

"Yes, you told me. But you did sleep. Did you ever dream? Of the future?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

Three in the morning. Three in the bloody morning. Why did the world always seem to end at three in the bloody morning?

"Don't answer it." Tom groaned. He shifted in bed and noticed that the area where Martha Jones usually lain was cold and that a light was on. He blinked a few times and propped himself on his elbows, begrudgingly. "Well, if you're going to answer it. It had better be important."

"I don't know. I think I need to call the Doctor."

"Are you ill? Is it the baby?" Tom's eyes went wide and he began searching for his pants.

"No, not our doctor. The Doctor."

Tom's pants were being zipped up and he moved to join her. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Sorry if I woke you."

"No problem. You save the world. The least I can do is sacrifice a bit of sleep." Martha smiled at Tom sweetly and switched the connection from her phone to laptop. Tom watched the feed while the moon billowed behind the curtain. "What am I looking at then?"

"Readings. From Glasgow."

Tom adjusted his glasses. "Those look like the spikes..."

"I know. From the Rift in Cardiff. Something is happening, Tom. And I'm not sure what."

"Think it's a reaction to Abaddon?"

"I don't know. But the Doctor must have some clue. Maybe it's nothing. Am I worried for nothing?"

"What does your gut tell you, then?"

"It's not the end of the world, but it might be important."

Tom reached for her forehead and kissed it. "Call your Doctor if you need to. I'll make some cocoa."