Doctor Who (c) BBC.

Chapter 2:

Gold light swirled within Rose Tyler, burning behind once-brown eyes, straining to be free. She raised an arm to release it, pointing at the nearest Dalek, which loomed in front of her threateningly. Rose would have been scared; but she was not Rose, was not even human. Power drifted effortlessly from her fingertips, and the Dalek was gone – every particle drifted into gold vapour and dissolved.

"Everything must come to dust," said the thing that was once Rose. The power rushed gold in her veins, and with it came fearless certainty. "All things."

Three more Daleks followed the first as she gestured elegantly, and all that was left was the trace of dust shimmering in the air. Rose buzzed with the knowledge that she was invincible; nothing could stop her, nothing was safe. She was more than human – so much more. She was a god. She was the Bad Wolf.

"Everything dies." She opened her arms and let the power flow. It spread from her across the Dalek fleet, destroying everything in its path. Half a million Daleks were swept away with the wind, but she did not stop. Rose heard the Emperor roar before he melted into the air, and his rage was sustenance.

However, the more power she released, the more built up inside her. Rose could feel the pain and pressure growing behind her eyes, every atom in her body screamed with it. Images flashed through her head, and she could see everything - all that is, all that was, all that ever could be. She saw the end of all things, the collapse of the galaxies, the very last moments of the universe. But all that shone in her eyes was light.

"The Time War ends."

Rose woke with a jolt and stared around, only half-conscious, expecting to see the weight of the Daleks bearing down on her. One hand even fumbled in her pocket for the sonic screwdriver before she remembered where she was - in the office. Rose slowly pushed her shoulder-length blonde hair out of her face and looked around. She was sitting at her desk; her PC monitor and keyboard sat in front of her, as well as piles of papers, a half-empty mug of tea, a pot filled with pens and pencils, and a lot of other junk she hadn't gotten around to tidying up. She glanced at her watch. It was eight-thirty in the morning.

"What?" she muttered, before remembering. She had come into work early, because the old recurring Bad Wolf nightmare had woken her up – yet another reminder of the life she had left behind. It seemed she had fallen asleep at her desk. Trying to wake herself up, Rose grabbed the mug and took a large gulp of tea, then regretted it. It was stone cold. She spat the tea back, spluttering, shoved her chair back and stomped into the kitchen to make some more.

The office was cosy – or that was the word they used, anyway. Rose shared her office with Sarah Jane, and there was just enough space for two computer desks, a shelving unit, and two filing cabinets. They had disagreed on the colour scheme, but eventually decided on a dark blue carpet and pale blue walls, nice and simple. A window looked out over the street and grey, rain-hazed sky. There were four doors; one led out into the building they shared with a few other small businesses, and the others were to the kitchen, bathroom, and Mickey's office, which was even smaller than theirs. He had a desk and chair, and then crammed into the remaining space a number of gizmos, devices and other contraptions, which he said would "revolutionise the PI business", but which Rose had yet to see anywhere near finished.

Private Investigators - that was what they were to the outside world. It even said it on the door's brass plaque: Bad Wolf Investigations, and their names, but under the surface – to anyone who looked closer and dug deeper – they were so much more. They dealt with the things that Torchwood, high up in Canary Wharf, didn't see, or were too busy to dirty their hands with. Granted, in the eighteen months Bad Wolf had been around, they had only had half a dozen clients, and a few of those had been the usual "my husband/wife is having an affair" type deal. The others were simple infestation jobs – get in, wave the sonic screwdriver around until the alien knew you meant business, and then pack it off to whatever planet it came from. But Rose still felt great to be out there doing something. She had worked for Torchwood for a few months, and never even left the building. Now she was doing something that really mattered.

Rose had just settled back in her chair with a fresh tea, and begun flicking through a file on the latest client, when the door opened and Mickey strolled in.

Being his own boss suited the 24-year old Londoner. He was more confident, and seemed to have found his calling in electronics, though he was still a bit of a jack-the-lad. Rose would never have guessed that he would ever be more interested in a circuit board than saying good morning to her; but there he was, fiddling away with a screwdriver, the glasses he had started wearing pushed into his short black hair.

"All right, Mickey? You're up early."

He looked up and grinned at her. "Wanted to get this finished off. It's the central control circuit for the Sneak-Speaker."

Rose faked a groan. "You still at that? Thought you gave it up weeks ago."

"Are you kidding? This is gonna -"

"Revolutionise the PI business, I know." Rose teased, nudging him with her foot. They'd been over the same topic every day since he brought up the Sneak-Speaker – a tiny microphone and camera system. Not only was it small and easy to hide, it recorded sound and took high-quality snapshots via remote control. It had taken Mickey weeks to smuggle the necessary equipment out of Torchwood, and it would have been impossible without Jake, their so-called "inside man". Rose thought he was making this whole thing far too cloak and dagger – she was sure her father would have loaned him a bit of equipment if he'd just asked.

Mickey pretended to huff indignantly. "Just you wait. Once those losers up at Bowland and Blakes get a whiff of this, the money'll roll in."

Rose rolled her eyes, pretending to be bored. Actually, she thought the invention was fantastic – if it worked, if it wasn't spotted, if the photos were good enough. She just didn't want to get Mickey's hopes up about something involving so many "ifs". She decided to change the subject. "Is Sarah here yet?"

Mickey gazed at her seriously, glanced around, then bent down and looked under Sarah Jane's desk. "Can't see her," he said. "You'd better check in the filing cabinet."

"Shut up!" Rose laughed. "You know what I meant."

Mickey jumped back to his feet and bounced energetically on his toes. He knocked his thin-rimmed glasses back onto his nose with a flick of a finger and peered at her through them. "Her car's not here. Come on Rose, it's not even 9 yet."

"Yeah, I know." Rose couldn't help feeling disappointed – and not just because she wanted to see her other best friend. Sarah was supposed to be dropping by Torchwood this morning, for reasons she hadn't told them, and Rose was impatient to get the details.

Right on cue, they heard a car pull up outside, and both of them leapt to the window. Sure enough, Sarah Jane's pale green Nissan Figaro was sliding to a halt in its usual space. They watched Sarah Jane get out, slam the car door, and enter the building, all far too slowly. It took her a few minutes to climb the two flights of stairs, but finally she was there, carrying the post and her bag and trying not to drop either. Her coat was covered with a thin layer of rain.

"What is it? What did they want?" asked Rose, as soon as the door opened. Sarah hesitated before answering, taking time to put the pile of letters on her desk and hang up her coat. She smiled a greeting at Mickey, who grinned back. He was leaning against the wall beside the filing cabinet, in the pretence of examining the tiny speaker's circuitry – but Rose knew he was just as interested as she was. Finally, Sarah seemed to gather her thoughts, and tried to explain.

"Torchwood have found something," she began. "I can't exactly explain it – I don't fully understand it myself, but it's…it's incredible."

Rose shared a puzzled glance with Mickey. "I don't understand. What is it?"

"It's some sort of pod or capsule, maybe it's a spaceship." Sarah Jane replied. "The truth is Torchwood can't determine what it is which means its something way beyond anything we – the human race - have ever seen before. The technology inside the thing is just…incredible." she repeated, lost for words. "The trouble is, they can't test it to see what it is because, well, it doesn't work."

"It's broken?" piped up Mickey, curiosity ignited.

"Well, there's a signal, but it's very faint. They were trying to boost it when I arrived, but I think they're scared of what this thing could do. It could be a weapon, or a bomb…" Sarah took a deep breath, then took a padded envelope from the inside pocket of her fitted leather jacket. "Even this didn't wake it up."

She tossed the package to Rose, who caught it deftly and upended it. A familiar pen-shaped object fell into her palm. Rose's gaze snapped back to Sarah.

"I lent this to you, not Torchwood. They had no right -"

"I gave them the right. The reason I borrowed it was to hand it to Torchwood." Rose opened her mouth angrily, eyes flashing gold, but Sarah ploughed ahead. "You refused to go back, I had no choice! Rose, this thing isn't deadlocked, so the sonic screwdriver should have worked. But it didn't."

"Are you sure it was on the right setting?" Rose growled, still angry, but under control. Her eyes faded back to brown.

"Of course." Sarah kept her voice level, but the others could see she was hiding her irritation.

"I only installed those updates last week – it was working fine then." Mickey cut in hurriedly. Rose's eyes always turned gold when she was angry, and he had to admit that it scared him.

Rose turned the screwdriver over in her hands, inspecting it. It wasn't really a screwdriver, it was just called that because…well, she didn't know why. It was one of the many things she'd never thought to ask. It was a slim metal tube, with a light at one end that used to be blue, like the original, but had suddenly and inexplicably turned gold soon after coming into Rose's possession, to everyone's confusion. It had been built by Torchwood, who had copied it from the one in the Doctor's pocket – they did a full-body scan of everyone who entered the building, including a complete analysis of whatever electrical equipment the visitor had on them at the time. Apparently, it would have been stranger for them not to make a copy.

Just before they finished it, however, the computer system had suffered an unexplained meltdown, destroying every file relating to the Doctor or his sonic screwdriver. As a result of this, Torchwood was unable to make any more. Rose's screwdriver also didn't work quite as well as the original, but was fine for everyday uses – like when she forgot her keys, needed entry to somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, or just fancied showing off. But, inferior to the Doctor's as it was, there wasn't much it failed to unlock, and the fact that it had meant trouble.

"So, what does this mean?" asked Mickey, as Rose slid her trusty gadget into a jacket pocket.

"It means," she replied grimly, "that we're going back to Torchwood."