The League of Dǻlig Ulv

Disclaimer 3.1—I've been out of the loop for so long, it's not even funny. Grad school's a slang term for dogs that I choose not to repeat on the off-chance there are women present, my old laptop broke down, and there have been multiple deaths in the family. Nothing we weren't already expecting, but they hurt nevertheless. Back to actual disclaimer fodder: I own nothing, but that's why we're all here to begin with, isn't it?

Timeframe: DW-Shortly before "Partners in Crime." May eventually contain a spoiler or two for Partners in Crime, Turn Left and The Stolen Earth, but you've had two years to watch those episodes by now, so tough. PR-after JF, the point beyond which no one's sure where canon breaks down because no one can pinpoint a time frame for RPM. And with that, we're off and running.
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For Rose Tyler, the day had started out much the same as every other day had since her unfortunate arrival in what she still thought of as Pete's World. She had left her flat clad in the jeans and blue leather jacket that had practically become her uniform and driven off to this universe's Torchwood Institute, the route shaded by the ubiquitous zeppelins that cluttered the skies of this parallel earth she had found herself stranded in for the past two years.

Of course, this was far from any other day. After a year's worth of research and several more months of development, the newly reconfigured dimension cannon was finally ready to test. She was going home—she hoped. Well, yeah, she thought, mum's here and so is my brother…or is that half-brother…never mind, even with all the things and people I've seen, some things are still too confusing. The point, she reminded herself, was that while she lived on Pete's World, it wasn't home. Home had been ripped out of her grasp, literally, in a high-rise at Canary Wharf, on a day that, for her, was more infamous than December 7th was to Americans, because it had been the day she lost him. That horrible moment was still seared into her memory, haunting her nightmares, torturing her brain. Forget cursing herself over losing her grasp on that lever, she couldn't even look at a slot machine now without tearing up and remembering who she had been dragged away from, and who she was hoping to return to—her Doctor.

Not just any doctor but the Doctor, the lonely wanderer from the stars, whose first word to her hadn't been a greeting but a command. He had told her to run, and for two years they never stopped running, going from a blue-collar section of London to the end of the world, centuries into the past and future and halfway across the universe, usually pausing only long enough to smell the flowers, right a wrong or two and save the world, because—well, did they really need a reason? It was just what they did, and it was perfect, the two of them hopping all over the cosmos in a blue box, Mutt and Jeff, Shiver and Shake (though how she had ended up as Shiver was still a mystery to her), the Doctor and Rose. And hopefully, they would be like that again soon.

The warning klaxon sounded as the gear-like door to the complex opened, announcing Rose's arrival. "So, today's D-day, eh?" Mickey Smith asked from his desk, glancing up with a look that conveyed hope and concern towards the girl who had been anything and everything to him at one time or another. Since being dropped into this world, they had really been each other's shrink more than anything. Whenever events reminded one or the other a little too much of home, the two would make a run for chips and then go up on the roof, where they could complain about the subtle differences in this universe or homesickness or whatever was on their minds.

"Either that or I've finally made the lot of you as sick of waiting as I am," Rose fired back, flashing the brightest grin she'd had on her face in months. "You ready for this, mate?"

"No, but it's not like it's my call or anything," Mickey replied. "There's still time to change your mind on this one, you know."

"I made my choice a long time ago, and I've made that clear to all of you, repeatedly."

"I know, but your mum would kill me if I didn't at least try to talk you out of this."

"Well, you've covered your behind, then, Mickey," she told him.

"How many times have I told him not to expose it in the first place?" Jake joked as he walked up from behind the two. "You know what you're doing, then?"

"Yeah," Rose told him. "I just hope it works."

"We've run the tests and it should work just fine," Jake told her, with a less than confident look on his face, "but…"

"But what?"

"Remember that our world is sealed off from this one," Mickey finished for him

"I remember that all too well" Rose responded, a small lump forming in the back of his throat. "So how do I get around that?"

"To get there, you'll have to go to a different world altogether, then figure out how to get from that one to our original one. But we have no idea what adjustments you'll have to make to the canon for the return trip."

Rose bit her lower lip and thought about that possibility for a second. "Well, that's a risk I'll just have to take."

"And if you end up in the wrong spot?"

"Then I'll zap back here and we try again. As many times as it takes."

"Right then," Jake said, heading for the door, "is there anything else you need us to do?"

"You can try to keep mum from killing Mickey here when one of you lot tells her what you just told me."

"Fat chance," Jake told her. "I once had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of one of Mrs. Tyler's slaps. Don't need that again."

"Oi, where does that leave me?" Mickey yelped.

"Same place it always has," Rose chuckled.

"Not funny."

"It is to me."

"Yeah, cause you won't be around for the damage control."

"Well, that's true."

"I guess I could hide in your dad's office and hope it all boils over."

"You wouldn't stand a chance. That's the first place she'd look."

"Can we just get a move on with this already," Jake bemoaned. "Some of us who aren't leaving would like to get on with our day too, you know."

"Fair enough," Mickey snapped back. "You got any parting words or anything?"

"Just that it's time for this big, bad wolf to find the rest of her pack," Rose told him, pulling him into a hug. "But you guys take care of yourselves, okay? And tell Tony about me, whatever happens."

"That was a given, Rose. Take care of yourself, too."

"And make sure the good Doctor knows what's going on here. It's not just one universe he's got to save," Jake called as Rose headed for the research lab and the journey that awaited her.
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In another universe, far removed from the chaos of a year that never would be, a wolf of a very different sort was sitting at a computer desk in yet another version of Torchwood wondering just what the world had in store for him today.

When he had returned to Earth permanently, William Cranston, better known to his friends as "Billy," had expected life to slow down a bit. No such luck. His arrival had coincided with yet another outbreak of alien invasions in his native California, which was immediately confronted by yet another group calling themselves Power Rangers, wearing costumes that looked eerily familiar to Billy, especially the blue one. Deciding to get as far away from the spandex-related chaos as he could, he had headed to Great Britain to finally take Cambridge up on that scholarship offer they had extended nearly a decade earlier. He had been sightseeing in London on the Saturday that the Slitheen spaceship had crashed in the Thames in his universe. Aliens attacking earth was old hat to Billy, though he found it odd that this one had decided to appear somewhere other than America. Nevertheless, having come to the conclusion that this kind of insanity was simply going to follow him wherever he went, he had answered the call, and his hacking skills had proven invaluable in translating the creatures' communications system—and with it, their plan to destroy the planet and use it for scrap metal.

In the aftermath of that threat, Billy's actions had drawn the attention of a woman calling herself Dr. Sato, who made the genius an offer he couldn't refuse. So, ever since that day, he had been back in the game, tracking down extra-terrestrial beings, dissecting technology and saving the planet on many an occasion. The fact he could show his face while doing it was freeing, in a way. Relying on wits and teammates were habits that were hard to break, no matter how far from home you had strayed. As was the affinity for wearing blue, though given how prevalent denim was in fashion, an outside observer wouldn't pick up on it readily.

When Dr. Sato transferred to Torchwood Three in Cardiff, she had nominated him as her replacement at the main branch in London, and he had gladly accepted. Given the things he had seen since that fateful day in his freshman year of high school, it was hard to imagine himself "fitting in" anywhere else in the world. Leave the costumes and 20-story robots to Tommy, he often thought to himself. You can do so much more with a hard drive and a well-armed van. If his time saving the world in the 1990s had taught him that anything is possible, his exploits in England had instilled a firm belief in a line from a science fiction series. A Latin phrase that went una spes fatum est non spes salus: "The one hope of the damned is not to hope for safety." A theory that would be put to the test time and time again as Billy and his team dealt with one bizarre case after another, though much as was the case in Angel Grove years before, more often than not, everybody lived to tell the tale. Or at least, they could put the tale down on paper knowing it would not be revealed to the public for 150 years by act of Parliament. (Author's Note: For my fellow Yanks reading this, there actually is such a law keeping the royal diary under wraps for an absurdly long amount of time, in the interest of protecting state secrets. Carry on.)

This particular morning's peace was broken by a phone call. Billy sighed, and then he picked up the receiver. "Cranston here."

"Bill, it's Andrew" came the reply of Andrew Hartford, an American millionaire/thrill seeker who fancied himself a latter-day Indiana Jones and had done some freelance work with Torchwood before creating his own Ranger team to locate and protect a set of precious stones from the clutches of no less than five separate megalomaniacal aliens.

"Since it's one in the morning in California, I take it this isn't a social call, Mr. Hartford," Billy responded, mentally preparing for something dire to be introduced to the conversation.

"Believe me, Bill, I wish it was," Andrew told him, "but Mack just got done running the diagnostics and it doesn't look good."

"What is it this time?"

"We were just going over those Hubble images you e-mailed us. We've been comparing them with our star charts and…well, there's an entire constellation missing."

Billy did a spit take at that, leaving coffee sprayed all over the computer monitor. "What?"

"You heard me right. Arcturus is missing."

"The entire constellation?"

"Yes."

"And there's no chance this is some practical joke, like if you e-mailed this to me, I'd click on the link and see a Rick Astley video?"

"The song wasn't that bad when he recorded it."

"Can we get back to the fact that an entire constellation has vanished?"

"Gladly. Any thoughts on what we should be doing about it?"

"Believe it or not, I have no idea. I guess for now you should call Adam and get the rest of the gang up to speed."

"Alright. And if you come up with any ideas, you've got all of Operation Overdrive at your service."

"Thanks, Andrew," Billy gave him a quick goodbye, then called the front desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Cranston," the voice answered.

"Tell the team to assemble in the war room. And send out the alarm."

"Which color?"

"Mauve."
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Halfway around Billy's world, Robert "RJ" James was sweeping the floor and getting ready to lock up his rather eclectic pizza parlor for the night when a strange traveler wandered in and asked to speak to the manager.

"You're looking at him," RJ told the stranger.

"The time has come," the stranger told him cryptically.

"Absolutely, it's time to go home and recharge after a rough day in the food service industry—but somehow I don't think that's what you meant."

"Good, you're not as oblivious as you sound."

"Okay, I'm going to assume that that was your stomach talking. We're closed for the night, but if you'd care to stay and extemporize on that opening line, I'll see what I can scrounge up."

"Sorry about that," the stranger said. "Just had to make sure you were really the one."

"Well, RJ, party of one, speaking. And you would be?"

The man held up a strange-looking cell phone, which was blinking an odd shade that looked almost purple, but darker, somehow. "The name's Merrick, and you and I have both been summoned to merry old England." Before RJ could ask another question, Merrick took hold of his arm, and the two disappeared.
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Author's notes: Yes, Ranger fans, the wolves are coming together to save the universe, with a major assist from a not-so-proper English Rose. I'm sorry if Merrick and RJ get out of character, I've never tried to write either of them before. In fact, the last time I sat at a computer and tried to do something like this, RJ didn't exist yet. It really has been that long. As for the Whovians out there, I know what you're thinking. A Doctor Who story without the Doctor? That's why they call it a crossover. Series 2 (#29 overall) left us with Rose trapped in another universe, working for the organization responsible for her being there, with over a year's worth of gaps to fill in before she shows up again out of the blue. She had to have been doing something.
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