A/N: Hello everyone! I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying my little story so far, and I hope you're having as much fun reading it as I am writing it! :D This is my first foray into the wide world of fan fiction and I was not expecting it to go so well! That being said, this chapter isn't my favorite, so if you have any ideas I could use to make it better, please feel free to let me know! Thank you again!

Also, the title is taken from "The Second Coming," by W.B. Yeats. It's a great apocalyptic-type poem.

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;"

~Izzy


Chapter Three

Martha Milligan, nee Jones, examined her appearance in the mirror one last time, and wondered why she felt so nervous. It was just an interview—she'd already been to one for this job and the supervising doctor, Dr. Kane, said that she had done very well. She was glad someone thought so. The interview had included a practical examination, and the symptoms they presented to her made no sense. Her eyes wandered to the picture tucked into the mirror's frame. A rugged, serious young man was kneeling in a crowd of children. Martha smiled, pressed her fingers to her lips and touched the man's face. Thomas Milligan, her husband, smiled back at her. She stepped back from the mirror and grabbed her coat.

They had been married for two years, but they spent as much time apart as they did together. Tom worked for a charity and did a great deal of work in Africa with children. Martha wondered sometimes how he managed to stay positive when he worked in cramped, understaffed, badly-outfitted refugee camps. She didn't believe that she had it in her to see what he saw, to know that for every child he saved five would die. Perhaps that was why she remained in England while he was abroad. The charity would have taken her—she was an excellent doctor, but she had applied instead to a place her cousin Adeola had found. She wasn't really expecting them to call her back; they were some sort of fancy private clinic—an image that called to mind specialists with degrees from all around the world, but they had. And they seemed genuinely interested in her. She smiled as she waved for a taxi. "Who knows, maybe you're moving up in the world, Martha Milligan," she said softly to herself.


Rose closed the door to her office and smiled. It was just as she left it. Her desk sat in front of a huge picture window, facing the door. The blinds were closed against the early morning sunlight that gilded Canary Warf. Two comfortable chairs were clustered around a small table in the far corner of the room. Sheaves of paper were organized into neat stacks on her desk, and a mug of steaming tea was waiting for her. Rose made a mental note to remind Florence that she was the best secretary ever.

"Best get to work." She murmured as she settled behind her long desk, and sighed. "No more vacations for me." Working through the reports alone would take most of the day, and there was something she had to do, something important. Rose frowned as she tried to remember.

"Right! Right, the interview with that doctor." Jake called her Martha, Rose remembered. She scanned her desk, and grabbed a file marked 'M. Milligan.' "Forewarned is forearmed," Rose murmured as she opened the folder. When had she started talking to herself? Everyone must think she's mad. Then again, who's to say she wasn't?

She blinked at the picture that smiled up at her from the file. "Hello, Martha Jones," Rose said softly, and smiled. The universe is strange indeed.


Martha blinked as she entered Canary Warf. People were everywhere: chatting on cell phones, catching elevators, drinking coffee, but it seemed somehow forced. She stood in front of what she assumed was the visitor's desk and cleared her throat. The clean-shaven young man who sat behind the desk looked up.

"Can I help you?" He was polite but firm.

"I'm here for an interview." Martha held out the small plastic card that Dr. Kane had given her. "I'm looking for a Ms. Tyler."

The young man, his name tag said 'Alex,' took the card from her and slid it into his computer. "Ah yes, welcome to Canary Warf, Mrs. Milligan." He handed her the card, and gestured to the silver door behind him. "If you would just step inside the elevator and insert your card."

Canary Warf was a strange place, Martha decided as she waited for the elevator to arrive at wherever she was going. It had spoken to her earlier, when she slid her card into the designated slot. "Doctor Martha Milligan," it said. "Authorized. Welcome." Whatever that meant. How much security did a clinic need? It was nothing like the other places she had worked, even the research lab. She wondered briefly how Addy, who was some kind of computer programmer, even knew about an open medical position. And then the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

The room outside of the elevator was small. A young woman sat behind a long desk and a tall man in a dark suit stood next to the only door. The woman looked up and smiled.

"Hello there! Can I have your name, please?" She was polite enough, but Martha knew that it wasn't exactly a request.

"I'm Martha Milligan," she said. "I'm here for an interview with Ms. Tyler?"

The woman typed something on her computer. "Ah yes, welcome to Canary Warf, Mrs. Milligan. Jason will show you to Ms. Tyler's office."

The man opened the door. "If you'll follow me, please." He was dressed like a businessman, but he held himself differently, and Martha had a feeling that his job description included showing intruders the way out as well as showing authorized people the way in. As they walked through the white halls of the building Martha was glad that someone knew the way. She kept getting turned around, but maybe that was their intention. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Paranoid much?

Finally the man, Jason, stopped in front of a door. He knocked.

"Yes?" A woman's muffled voice came through the wood.

He opened the door. "Martha Milligan to see you, ma'am."

"Thank you, Jason." A chair was pushed back inside the room and a woman's face appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Come in, Mrs. Milligan."

"Call me Martha, please." She responded with a smile. "Mrs. Milligan is my husband's mother."

"And I'm Rose." The woman held out her hand and Martha shook it. She looked strangely familiar, like Martha had seen her before.


Rose led them away from her desk to the chairs clustered in the corner. It was strange, seeing an alternate version of the Martha Jones she met a few days ago. It felt like a lifetime away, and Rose supposed that it was. That was the old universe, after all. This Martha was married and still a doctor. She hadn't yet become a soldier driven by duty and responsibility.

"Dr. Kane was quite impressed with your conclusions," she told the young woman.

Martha laughed. "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to make of the symptoms."

Rose nodded. "Understandable. They were rather unique, however, you analyzed them, correctly identified the most pressing issues, and formulated a treatment plan. Impressive." It was especially impressive considering that the disease she had been studying did not originate on Earth, and was thus completely foreign to her. "You must be wondering, Martha, why you're being interviewed by someone who is not a doctor."

Martha smiled. "A little bit, yeah."

Rose straightened and turned her full attention to the woman sitting in front of her. "I need to know if you can keep your head in the middle of what amounts to a battle field, if you can take orders without question and without understanding exactly what is happening. I need to know if you can face the end of the world and most importantly, I need to know if I can trust you." Her eyes bored into Martha as if she was trying to strip away her skin and see into her soul. "Can I trust you, Martha Jones?"

"It' s Milligan, not Jones," the other woman corrected, almost unconsciously. She was staring back at Rose. There was something unnerving in the woman's intensity, something strange about her eyes. She couldn't be older than Martha was, but something ancient and timeless bled through. It sent chills up her spine. "And I'm sorry, but this sounds like I'm signing up for the Armed Forces. I applied for a medical position?"

Rose leaned back. "You did. Tell me, Martha Milligan, what do you know about Torchwood?"

Martha blinked as she suddenly remembered where she had seen Rose Tyler. The celebrity rags in the hospital break room. Something about a movie premier and there, on the cover: Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress. "You're Torchwood?"

Rose grinned. "Yes."


Rose led Martha back through the maze of corridors to the tiny room and the elevator. She was impressed, and understood why Dr. Kane recommended the other woman beyond her abilities as a doctor. After Martha had gotten over her initial surprise at Rose's dual identity she asked surprisingly astute questions.

"Take a day to think it over," Rose said as they stopped in front of the door.

"I will." Martha nodded somewhat distantly. Rose could almost see the ideas flitting through her mind. Since the Lumic incident and Pete's installation as the Director of Torchwood the organization was much more open than it had been. It was better that way, Rose thought. The secrecy was too difficult to maintain. Without some kind of oversight it would be too easy for a zealous leader to take things a step too far—as her original universe had.

"Then I look forward to hearing from you." Rose opened the door and gestured for Martha to exit first. She did, and stopped just out of the doorway. A tall, handsome man in a smart suit was leaning against the wall opposite the desk, looking irritated and incredibly bored. His eyes widened as he saw her and Martha thought she saw an expression in them like recognition.

"Martha Jones!" He cried and took long strides to stand in front of her.

She blinked. "Have we met?"

He regarded her curiously. "I'm guessing not. Well, not yet anyway. I'm the Doctor." He stuck out his hand.

She took it. "Pleased to meet you, doctor—?"

"John Smith, astrophysicist and extra-terrestrial expert." Rose said from the doorway, clearly amused.

"He works for you, then?" Martha asked her.

Rose smiled. "He—collaborates sometimes. Usually with my team but I loan him out every-so-often."

"Oy!" He protested, pretending to be offended. "There you are, Rose. Now, can you please tell this lovely, charming woman," he was being completely insincere, "that I am not a terrorist, or a stalker, or an international spy, and thus am allowed to see you?"

"What, have you found the one woman in the universe you can't charm?" She asked coyly.

The Doctor huffed. "Second woman, thank you very much. It's no use trying to charm your mum." Rose laughed.

The young woman behind the desk glanced at her. "Everything all right, Ms. Tyler?"

"Yes, thank you Florence." Rose nodded at the Doctor. "He's clear. Now, Mrs. Milligan,"

"Martha." She interjected.

"Martha." Rose affirmed. "It was a pleasure to meet you, and I hope to hear from you soon."

Martha knew a dismissal when she heard one. She made her farewells, and departed back down the elevator. It was only after the doors closed that she realized that Dr. Smith and Rose Tyler both called her by her maiden name, and apparently knew her, although she had never met either of them before in her life. And how did the daughter of a billionaire become an alien-fighting secret agent anyway? She shook her head. These people were a mystery, and she hated to admit it, but she was intrigued.


"Blimey," the Doctor said as he flopped down in one of the comfortable chairs in Rose's office. "I didn't even think about all the other parallel people we might meet."

"D'you suppose there's a parallel Donna running around somewhere?" Rose asked. "I'd like to meet her." She grinned. Donna Noble was a formidable woman, and she was good for the Doctor. She didn't let him get away with anything.

He was quiet for a while. "Dunno. Maybe."

"She looked well. Happy." Rose tried to break the silence.

"Yeah." The Doctor stared at the wall, apparently lost in thought.

Rose was reminded once more of how long she had been away. Neither one of them had spoken of their time apart since the first night. They would have to discuss it eventually, she knew, but until then she preferred to let it lie. She wanted to pretend that everything was okay for a little longer. She wanted to push back everything that happened after Bad Wolf Bay and just be the Doctor and Rose. Didn't she deserve to be happy? After everything she did for the universe, didn't she deserve something?

She watched him stare at the wall and knew he was thinking about Martha, other-universe Martha. She felt jealousy stir inside her. It was irrational to think that he would have been alone since she left. She had Mickey. The Doctor evidently believed that the two of them would end up together. Maybe they would have, if she had never met the time-travelling alien who could show her the universe and feel the turn of the Earth. Rose knew now that she had been lost the moment he grabbed her hand. The moment he said "run."

"How are our friends?"

Rose realized that he was talking to her. "What?"

"The Graxa. How are they?" He quirked an eyebrow and stared at her expectantly.

She sighed. "They didn't make it. You were right; the smoke did too much damage. But Michael, Dr. Kane, said that they seemed healthy besides the injuries sustained in the crash. That rules out one theory."

"And the box?"

Rose consulted her notes. "Tosh and the tech squad have it. It's got some pretty sophisticated security measures, so it may take them a while to crack it."

He stood, once more a ball of barely contained energy. "In that case—" he held out his hand, "would you care to accompany me to an early lunch?"

She grinned, her tongue between her teeth, and laced her fingers through his. "I would."


"Rose, why is the waitress staring at you?" The Doctor sounded faintly amused and more than a little curious. She glanced around the small café and groaned.

"I'm famous here." She murmured. "Can't go anywhere without getting noticed. It's right pain sometimes."

"Right, right." His eyes travelled over the other patrons and he realized that several glanced frequently at their table. "Doesn't that make working for Torchwood hard?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes, but not always. Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress, works for her father's charity. She frequents posh restaurants and wears fancy clothes. Rose Tyler, Torchwood agent, dresses much more sensibly."

"The clothes make the man—or woman," the Doctor said and smiled. "Did you know that in Elizabethan times clothing was rigorously regulated? Wear the wrong thing and off with your head!"

She laughed. He loved it when she laughed. Her whole being seemed to light up with joy. He didn't mind being completely ridiculous if he could make her laugh. Of course, she would probably say that he didn't know how to not be ridiculous. But that was entirely a matter of opinion. "Speaking of Vitex and all that, how did you make it work?"

"What, being Rose Tyler?"

He nodded.

"Dad had his people whip up a suitably scandalous story." She shrugged. "I think it sounds like a soap opera, but the rags swallowed it whole."

The Doctor grinned. "That's probably why they believe it."

"Apparently mum was traumatized by the whole Lumic thing and lost her memory. Dad found her pretending to be Andrea Prentice and when she saw him everything came back to her and she remembered that she was actually Jackie Tyler." Rose snorted. "It was easier for me, seeing as how I never existed in this world. Back when I was born Pete Tyler still hadn't made any money, and him and Jackie hadn't gotten married yet. Dad's people made up some story about mum being secretly pregnant and giving me away because she knew they couldn't afford me. But I needed to meet my real parents, so I searched them out and they adopted me."

The Doctor whistled. "That is a doozy of a story."

"You're telling me! It takes all of my incredible self-control to not laugh whenever I hear it!" Her watch beeped. She sighed. "I'd better get back. You would not believe the amount of paperwork I have waiting."

The Doctor made a face. "Paperwork. Bleh. Are you sure you don't want to run away with me?"

She stood, and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah."


Joshua Stone was eight years old. He loved everything to do with space and stars and aliens. His most precious possession was a telescope that his uncle gave him for his birthday, and at night he would scan the sky. He knew the names and positions of the constellations by heart.

He was playing in the street when the space ship crashed. After he realized that it was not going to explode and kill everyone he had become part of the throng that gathered to watch. He saw the blond woman and the brown-haired man enter the ship. He saw them pull the pilots, the aliens out. Like everyone else he had pressed closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious creatures.

They were not what he expected. They looked almost human, if you ignored the slightly too-wide-set eyes and what looked like soft feathers where they should have had hair. He reached out and almost touched one, but then the blond woman was there, pushing him away. When the others came they took his statement, and sent him home to his mother.

Twenty-six hours later he was in the hospital. Thirteen hours after that he was dead.