That night, John and Rose Smith were laughing with each other as they walked home, not having bothered to take a car, as the theatre was not that far. It was probably just as well, as neither of them were exactly walking straight.

"After-show cocktails with the cast!" John shouted with joy. "Brilliant! Rose, I swear to God, you are too good to me."

She giggled as they both leaned against each other. "I think you keep forgetting that you don't have the same tolerance of your past self."

"Oh, posh." He looked down at her with a grin. "I could snap right out of this if I wanted to," he assured her. "I merely choose not to."

She giggled again. "Yes, and you could neglect to have a hangover if you wished, too, eh?"

"Aye, I could. But then, that would be wasting an opportunity to spend the morning in bed with my darling, eh?"

She beamed at him as she squeezed him about the middle, resting her head on his shoulder. "Isn't that wizard?" she whispered.

He grinned. "Aye, so wizard." As they tottered down the street, John suddenly stopped, or rather, shuffled to a pause.

Rose turned to him. "Wussa matter, love?"

"She's calling me," he answered, raising his shaking hands towards his head, holding them to his temples. He whispered something, and Rose watched him, still slightly buzzed. "A mental tapping," he said, "From another..." His eyes opened wide. "TARDIS."

"TARDIS? What TARDIS?" Rose echoed, confusion on her face.

"My TARDIS," he said, lowering his hands and looking dumbfounded at the house three doors down, at the garage in which his own device should be sleeping, but was telling him that it was, in a manner of speaking, receiving an incoming call. "And his."

_-*-_

The Doctor looked up every so often at the door that led to the dormitories, but tried to reassure himself that she was still sleeping. After all the running of the day, she was doubtless dog tired. Even if she were to wake, he had no idea as to why it would matter. She wouldn't know where he was.

As he worked around the console - the display was coral, as was the main one - he muttered to himself. He could feel the TARDIS ruffling her proverbial feathers, and was certain she was as anxious as he was.

"Come on, you beauty, work with me," he muttered, taking another glance at the door. He cursed himself for it, and turned back to the Improbability Drive that he had strewn before him. For the past two weeks - or what one could refer to as weeks on the TARDIS - he had been tinkering with the thing, figuring out how exactly it worked, and then after reengineering it to suit his needs. He'd hooked the Drive up to the secondary console so that Elisa wouldn't know - she didn't need to know. She couldn't know. First a wandering Jack, then Ford? He couldn't risk it if any unexpected visitors arrived, and poked about. The secondary console was in a forgotten wing of the TARDIS, no one would ever come here. It was the perfect hiding spot, and yet, he could easily drive the beast as well as he did with the main console - admittedly, barely good enough, for one pilot, and with a cantankerous old machine - and he could even manage to drive it seperately, if he could only...

"Ha!" He dropped the wire triumphantly, screwdriver still in hand, as he leaped up and turned to screen towards him. He pushed a button to update the stats, and gave a triumphant laugh at the result. He beamed at it, throwing a hand through his hair in disbelief.

"'TT contacted,'" he whispered, smiling, reading the screen aloud. He pumped a fist in the air.

"Rose Tyler, I'm coming for you!"

_-*-_

With tears staining her cheeks, Rose watched as he feverishly worked on his machine, a metal computer that encased the coral they had been given so long ago. It was so that he could hopefully make it useable far before the ten years that he said it would normally take. Still, he'd spent months on it, working only on Saturdays, as a rule. He had promised Rose that, though they would travel the stars together again, one day, he would not let it rule his life ever again.

"I have a life with you here, now," he'd said, holding up the infantile lifeform. "This is a promise, but I make another - I will never put this before you ever again, you hear me?"

Now, watching him hurry about it as he had before made her think of his "past life", as they reffered to it, always frantic, working to save the world.

"If I can just reroute the communications..." he growled, twisting his screwdriver as he fought for the right frequency. He slammed it against his open palm. "Work, damn you!"

"C-can I help with anything?"

He looked up at her, the rage still simmering in his eyes, and Rose felt her heart leap into his throat. As he gazed upon her, though, the fire flickered and died. He looked back down at the circuit board in his hand and the screwdriver, and realised what he was doing. He tossed it down, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to satisfy his need to punish, without inflicting any damage on himself. He buried his head in his hands.

He had promised he would never do this to her again. He would never let his work consume him so. After a moment, when he was once more contained, he looked back at the machine, who realised she had been caught for trying to steal more attention than she rightfully deserved. He sighed, knowing he was caught. It was harder to change than he'd thought. He looked up at Rose with a kind smile, the regret twinkling in the back of his eyes, and it didn't help Rose's fear. Regret was another emotion the Doctor hid in his eyes, and she didn't want to see it in his.

"How 'bout a cuppa, eh?" He tried to give her a bribing smile. "You do make the best."

Her lips twitched at the comment, and she nodded, sniffing quietly to herself as she turned away from the garage door, left open in his zeal to work. When she was gone, he looked back at the tools and gadgetry lying about.

He had given up this chaos. He had made the choice to change, for her, for them. So they could live a real life. A normal, happy, simple life, like he hadn't been able to do as the Doctor. A second chance at what he could have had as John Smith, back in 1913, only this time, he'd do it right. That was what he'd decided so long ago. Well, it was only months, but...

So many happy moments. So much time together - it felt like years, like he'd been with her forever, in a good way, and he liked that. He liked that he could spend every chance he had with her. Sure, occasionally he was needed as a consultant by any extraterrestrial agency on this Earth, but that was all he allowed himself. That, and his little tinkerings on Saturdays. He spent his meals and teatimes and bedtimes and holidays with Rose, and that was how it should be.

With a sigh, he gathered it all up, but decided, with all the connections, it would be wasteful to take it all apart and put it away, so he placed the circuit boards and such and deposited them on top of the machine, and covered it with the sheet. He replaced his tools - all except the sonic screwdriver. Like before, he kept it with him at all times - it was infinitely useful, as primitive as it was compared to his last one, but useful nonetheless. And after carrying it around for so long, he felt naked without it.

When he'd cleaned everything up, he locked the door behind him, a familiar longing in his gut, telling him he should keep working, keep going until he got the message that was trying to come through. And yet, his heart and his head told him that Rose was what was important now, not the Doctor, and he would keep to his word. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned away.