CHAPTER TWO

The Houses of Gallifrey

Rose hadn't needed Romana to open the door for her. Unlike before, when she'd been reliant upon the Master to direct her to where she should go, she'd been drawn to the door by some familiarity she couldn't describe. It had opened for her easily, the instant she'd approached, and she'd stepped into a warm rain, standing in the middle of an open field. Nearby, a man she had never seen but immediately recognized as the Doctor was soaked to the bone and moving quickly, looking over his shoulder occasionally as if someone might be chasing after him. Through the sheets of grey rain, Rose couldn't see who or what might be behind him.

Rose shielded her eyes as she slowly adjusted to the fact that she was dripping wet and there was nothing to be done about it. She wondered if she would dry off instantly once she stepped back into the hallway or if it was going to be a slow, natural process. She hoped it would be instantaneous. Real or not, this would definitely be uncomfortable if she had to stay this way.

The Doctor was cursing, grumbling under his breath. Only a few feet away and wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf that had to weigh twenty pounds at least with how much water it had soaked in, he was moving as quickly as he could through the monsoon rain and the six inches of water around his boots. Like the times before, he simply felt like the Doctor. And, perhaps more importantly, he thought like him. She could feel the urgency, the need to catch up with the crowd he was chasing. The crowd that had disappeared into the grey haze. They had something - no, someone - who belonged to him.

Nearly tripping over the scarf - how long was that thing, anyway? - he kept as quick a pace as he could until he reached a large, stone wall. It was surrounding a city, by the look of it. But there had to be an entrance somewhere. There had to be a door. Following along the wall, he searched for it.

"Stay where you are!"

He paused, and turned slowly to find himself looking down the barrel of some sort of rifle. He smiled as he raised his hands in surrender. "Ah. Hello, I'm the Doctor. I don't suppose you're affiliated with that mob that just dragged away my friend, are you?"

Rose followed as they dragged him away too, and none-too-gently. He was rambling the entire time, in a way that was most likely designed to make him look like a babbling fool. It was a tactic she'd seen her own Doctor use, though he didn't seem nearly as good at it as this version.

"Oh, hello, Romana!"

Dripping wet and clearly irritated, Romana was being held by both arms. Not that she truly needed a man to stand on either side of her slender frame to ensure her compliance - particularly when they were wrenching her arms behind her back. It was overkill, a show of power. But if the Doctor noticed, he didn't mention it. He was busy making other observations.

"Glad to see you're safe."

She glared - a look that screamed, "This is your fault!" even if she was biting her tongue. But the look was gone - suppressed - quickly. She replaced it with a stoic, unreadable mask.

"Safe is a relative term, at this point."

"Move!" the man at her side ordered, shoving her forward and off balance. The Doctor and his escorts followed a step behind, the Doctor rambling all the way.

"I was a bit concerned for you, you know," he said in Romana's general direction.

"I'm flattered," she answered dryly.

"Yes, I thought you might be. I hope you haven't been mistreated. Everybody likes a gracious host and I should like to think our host would be most accommodating if he wants my help. He could have just asked, you know. I would have gladly given him an audience. In my experience, you tend to get a lot further with somebody if you simply treat them with kindness and respect. Especially if you want them to help you."

Rose moved beside them, watching the look on the Doctor's face. She heard his rambling, and at the same time, it was as if she could hear his thoughts. Romana was able to take care of herself; he truly believed that. He hadn't been tremendously worried about her. But for as capable as she was, she was equally young and, he had to admit, a bit naive. That wasn't her fault, although her arrogance was certainly something she would have done well to curb if she had any idea how silly it made her sound. He smirked as he dwelt on that thought for a moment. All in all, he probably had no room to talk.

"Let go of me!" Romana struggled as the door to a cell was opened and she was tossed ungracefully inside. Straightening, she brushed herself off and glared at her captor. "Honestly! I do have two working legs; I'm able to walk just fine on my own."

"Save your breath, Romana," the Doctor said nonchalantly as he was shoved in beside her. "You'll only encourage them."

She sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited until the jailers had lumbered away before she raised a brow in the Doctor's direction. "So what do we do now?"

The Doctor waited until they were out of earshot to smile. "What do you mean, what do we do now? We escape, of course!"

She sighed as she gave him a dry, unamused look. "So glad that I asked."

"Anyway, there's no point in staying around here. This place is dull and boring. All protocol and no fun!"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"The key to the Tardis. That's how we ended up in this mess in the first place, Doctor! Unless we get that key back, we're locked out!"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that."

"What? Why not?"

"Simple. I have another."

She gaped. "You have another!"

"Yes, of course. I always keep a spare."

"You have another key to the Tardis!"

"Seems to be an echo in here..."

"Doctor, if you have another key to the Tardis, why have we been traipsing around this muddy, dingy, hostile planet looking for the key that you lost!"

"Lost?" he repeated indignantly. "It wasn't lost; it was stolen! And right out of my jacket pocket, no less."

"Doctor!"

"Oh, come on, Romana, it hasn't all been bad. Now we can say we've seen it and, after all, it's not like we've encountered anything particularly unpleasant."

She rolled her eyes. "Speak for yourself."

"You know, I really should think about getting you a key just in case someone steals my spare..."

"Doctor, how are we going to get out of here?" she demanded, tapping her fingers on her arm impatiently.

"Hmm? Oh, simple." He reached into his pocket, and she stepped forward, watching with some muted fascination as the high pitched whir of his screwdriver was followed by a click and the door swung open on its hinges. Jaw slack, for a moment, she didn't even know what to say. Then she straightened her posture and shook her head in disbelief. Of course he could've opened the door at any time. Why would she even consider that anyone could genuinely lock him up?

The sprint through the pouring rain - out past the guards, through the prison gate and into the field that now stood as more of a swamp - was not without its share of hazards. The bullets flying in their direction, for one thing. Clearly, they had not been excused, and a few people were less than thrilled about their sudden departure.

Rose had no effort keeping up. In fact, she hardly had to move at all. It was a strange feeling to be both aware of her body and surroundings and to know that the two were disconnected. The laws of nature and physics that governed this world around her didn't seem to apply to her at all. As if she were dreaming, floating easily in time with her surroundings, almost like a ghost.

The Doctor reached the door to the Tardis first. The guards chasing them were not far behind. Romana turned and collapsed against the edge of the blue box, looking back at them as the Doctor fumbled with the key. She was out of breath - unusually so, Rose had to think. If she travelled with the Doctor, surely she did her fair share of running. How was she so out of shape? Of course, the rain didn't make it any easier to run.

Finally, the door flew open and they both ducked inside, closing it behind them. With a broad smile, the Doctor stripped his dripping wet coat and hung it unceremoniously on the coat rack. The scarf was a bit more difficult to find his way out of.

"Right then! We'll set the randomizer and be off!"

Rose stood in the doorway of the Tardis, watching silently as the Doctor circled the console with a flourish and a spring in his step. On the other side of the white room, still dripping wet, Romana stood silently, her brow furrowed as she looked down at her hands.

"Maybe we'll end up on Yoli or one of the moons of Recora. Or maybe even one of the - Are you alright?"

The look on Romana's face was one of confusion and worry as she raised her eyes to him. "No," she answered, a bit shaky. "No, actually... I think not."

"Romana -"

He barely caught her as she collapsed. The instant he touched her, he knew what was happening. He could feel the energy, like electricity running along the surface of her skin. It seared through him and he grit his teeth, fighting the instinctive urge to drop her and back away. Once she was safely seated on the floor, he moved back a safe distance, looking her over from head to toe. He could see it from this distance - the soft orange glow of her skin.

"I..." She looked from him to her hands and back again. "I think I'm regenerating."

"Yes, it would seem that way."

"But why?" Her eyes widened with fear as she looked up. "I can't regenerate yet! I'm too young!"

"Shh, it'll be fine." Instinctively, he wanted to comfort her. But he knew better than to touch her again. Another jolt of that regenerative energy could easily render him unconscious. It wasn't intended for him, and his body wouldn't receive it well.

"But it's not fine! This will affect the rest of my regenerations!"
"Oh, it's not as bad as that."

"Doctor," she glared at him, "I'm not a fool."

"No, of course not. But you wouldn't want to regenerate into old age anyways. Take it from me..."

"But I don't understand. I don't feel sick, or injured."

"Maybe it's a delayed reaction."

"Is that possible?"

"Of course. The body is subjected to something traumatic - radiation poisoning, high frequency neurological relay censorship..."

She paused. "You mean like when we were separated before? When we were looking for the last segment to the Key to Time?"

"It's possible."

"But Doctor, that was ages ago! And I didn't think there were any lasting effects! Could it really have taken this long to render its effects?"

"I suppose. Internal organ failure is not instantaneous."

Her breathing was picking up, her body preparing itself for the trauma of transforming every cell. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him. "Does it hurt, Doctor? Will it hurt?"

"A little."

She laughed tightly. "You're lying."

He smiled back. "It's only for a moment."

"I was told... that I would be able to control it. But I don't know how. Do you?"

She asked more questions than she normally would have dared when she was nervous. And clearly, she was nervous.

"I haven't got a clue. My House doesn't have that ability. Just try it," he urged, ignoring the hint of panic in her voice. "If you can see the energy, you ought to have enough to manipulate it. Or, at least, begin to."

She closed her eyes as she concentrated, and he moved back a few more feet, watching as she slowly faded and morphed, changing her form into that of a ten-year-old child. He smiled as she opened her eyes and looked at him again.

"There, now! That wasn't too terribly painful, was it?"

"No," she answered in amazement, staring down at her hand in bewildered amazement. "Oh, but this is strange. I'm a little girl again!"

"I believe, if you'd like, you can form a new regeneration to look much like your previous one."

Slowly, she stood, a bit shaky on her feet as she adjusted to her new body's proportions. "You mean I can change it again?" she asked in awe.

"As long as the energy signature is strong enough, at least for the first hour or so, I'm told you can change it as many times as you'd like. Just do me a favor, will you, and don't touch the console. That regenerative energy wreaks havoc with the Tardis' circuits."

"Of course."

He looked her up and down She was swimming in the robes now, trying to find her hands and staring again as the pale orange energy dancing over them.

"You know," he suggested, "it may be a bit more practical for our purposes to choose a body that is a bit more... grown up. Most of the cultures I've been to tend to take adults a bit more seriously than children."

"Indeed." She paused as she looked up at him and smiled. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while. Is that alright?"

"Of course. In fact, why don't you go to the wardrobe room? I'm sure you can find something in there that's suitable for whatever body you choose."

She smiled as she stepped closer to him, but stopped as he moved back. "Oh. Right. I forgot." Gathering the robes up in her arms, she did her best to wave at him. "Bye, then!"

He laughed as he watched her tromp away, like a child playing dress up in clothes five times too big, and waved after her. "Have fun, Romana. I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

*X*X*X*

The woman standing in the hallway when Rose looked up again was Romana. Rose was sure of it. She felt like Romana, although she looked nothing like her. Blonde and petite, in a pink coat and scarf nearly as long as her Doctor's, she was all smiles. For a moment, all Rose could do was stare.

"You're a Time Lord!"

"Of course," Romana answered simply. Her voice was lighter, less formal.

"Like the Master."

She laughed. "Well, I should hope not."

"But that regeneration... I've seen the Doctor regenerate. It's not like that. He doesn't control what he looks like when it's through."

"The Doctor and I are from different families. We were created very differently."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was created with the loom of the Newblood House of Hartshaven. Gallifreyans of the Newblood houses are able to control their regenerations with some detail and precision."

"And the Doctor?"

She hesitated. "Officially, the Doctor is from the House of Lungbarrow. His mother was of that house, and his father, too."

"Officially?" Rose pressed, brow furrowed slightly.

Romana hesitated again, as if weighing her words carefully before she replied. "The Doctor is different even from those among his house. He is the Last Child of Gallifrey. The last of the womb-born."

"Womb-born? As opposed to what?"

"The loom-born. His birth was concealed by his mother, because she had heard of the riots and animosity between the womb-born and the loom-born children in the past. She didn't want him to be different, to be ostracized."

"So what does it mean?" Rose asked pointedly. "What's the difference between him and... everyone else who was born on one of those loom things?"

"Everything for him is a very natural, chemical process. He experiences biological reactions that the rest of us don't. When it comes to regeneration, his body undergoes a complete breakdown of cellular structure that's... well, quite literally, a moment of death. He ceases to exist, then reforms into somebody new. Complete variable restoration. He retains his memories, but everything else is completely new." She smiled knowingly. "He regenerates like the Time Lords of old. It hasn't been that way for the rest of us for millions of years."

"So that's why he's different? Why he never fit in with his own people?"

"That's part of it, yes."

"Only part?"

Romana didn't answer. Rose frowned again. She had been hoping that maybe, finally, she was getting some answers. "It was that prophecy, right?" Rose prodded. "That's what made everybody afraid of him."

"It was more than just a prophecy."

"What, then?"

"It's his essence. At least, part of it. His name."

"What do you mean?" Rose took a step closer. "What do you mean his name?"

Again, she paused, as if unsure whether or not it was wise to speak. Rose watched her intently, waiting for her to continue until, finally, she took a deep breath and began.

"Before entering the Academy, children on Gallifrey are initiated into society by looking into what we call the Untempered Schism. We see the past, the future... everything in between. A reflection of ourselves. It's when all we will come to be is planted in us - all our possible timelines and accomplishments. Everything we will ever know, and be. There, we learn our names, in the lost language of Old High Gallifreyan. The Visionary interprets them, through prophecy. It's not really a prophecy, mind you. It's a description of who and what we are - the things which must remain the same throughout regenerations."

"And that's all built into your name?" Rose asked, confused. "But how?"

"Old High Gallifreyan is not an alphabetic language - it is a conceptual one. The combination of concepts create a name if you read them in a shortened form, or a description in a lengthened reading. Thus, the name of a Time Lord is the whole of his or her essence - all of the concepts combined."

"So... the Doctor doesn't use his name - his real name - because it would tell too much about him?"

"His name is the prototype of his existence. He could be resurrected from the dead with that name. Or recreated. Even duplicated. When the Doctor saw all that he would become - in just a flash of an instant, too quickly to understand any of it - he knew, even as a child, that no one must ever have that kind of power to control him. He knew that his name must never, ever be spoken aloud."

"So he chose a different name," Rose said quietly.

"Not exactly. It is his name - the Doctor. It's one concept within the description; I'm sure of it."

"How? How can you be sure?"

Romana smiled softly. "Because you can't simply choose to be something you're not. He is the Doctor. Doctor of all. Of all the universe, and all of its hurts. Whatever else he may be, he is certainly that."

"So this name, this prophecy, it's a secret. And no one knows it?"

"It's not a secret that would be locked behind one of these doors, if that's what you're thinking. It's more than that. It is the door. It's the hallway, and the whole mind. It's the Doctor himself. All that he is. All that he's ever done. All that he will do."

"And you don't know it," Rose said with wondering awe. "You live inside of his mind, part of a filing system that he formed to keep track of his deepest, darkest secrets... and you don't know his name."

Romana's smile broadened as she tipped her head forward a bit, her eyes somehow piercing Rose to the core. "Some secrets," she said quietly, "are kept even from the keepers."