A/N: Quotes taken from The End of the World, Dalek, New Earth, The Impossible Planet, Fear Her, The Army of Ghosts, Doomsday, and The Last of the Time Lords.


Chapter Three: The Choices We Make

The Doctor caught Rose before she fell far, but he discovered that his own legs did not seem to be working at the moment. He let them fold beneath him and knelt, cradling her against him. Francine was staring at them. She covered her mouth with shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear." The Doctor ignored her; he hardly even heard her. All of his attention was focused on the woman in his arms.

"Never got used to being shot," she murmured. He tried to smile, but his mouth wasn't working right either. That was Rose all over, even injured she tried to put a brave face on, to joke and relieve some of his worries.

"I'm glad of that." His voice was unusually harsh. Of course it was, he had been talking for hours with people from UNIT and several governments trying to explain what had happened on the Valiant. It wasn't worry that was making it hard for him to speak, that was squeezing his hearts so that he felt he couldn't breathe. Time Lords didn't worry. He smoothed the hair back from her face and submerged his consciousness into her body. He was so focused on trying to asses her injuries that he almost missed her voice.

"Doctor." He blinked, slightly confused. "Doctor. 'Sokay. I found you." She smiled. "Tell Sarah Jane…" she faltered for a moment, but continued, "tell her thanks, from me."

She thought she was going to die. Cold, furious anger coiled in his stomach. Not today, not like this. Not when he'd just found her again.

The Master was laughing. "Oh, well done! Well done Francine Jones!" he said with mocking approval. "You just caused more pain in thirty seconds—by accident—than I could in an entire year!"


No one noticed Lucy. For a year she'd cowered in his shadow. When she first met the man who called himself Harold Saxon he'd been wonderful: attentive, gentle, focused on her with an intensity that made her feel precious—loved. He hypnotized her with his smooth words and beautiful lies. He told her about who he really was, the Master, a Time Lord…an alien. He showed her the end of the universe, and she realized that everything she knew, everything that made up her life, was utterly meaningless—so she helped him conquer the world.

And then the Doctor came, and everything began to go wrong, because the man she knew was a lie. The Master was not gentle. When he wanted something—sex, cooperation, information, he took it from her. If she resisted, he hit her until she stopped. He hated human beings, thought they were beneath him, and in time she realized that the only reason she was with him was to mimic a pattern. He was a reflection of the Doctor, an antithesis. She wondered who she was impersonating.

The pieces fell into place when Martha Jones and the other woman arrived, when she saw the Doctor and the brown-haired girl together. They were the pattern—the Doctor and the human woman he loved. And now everyone's attention was focused on the two of them. No one noticed Lucy pick up the gun from where Jack kicked it. No one noticed, not even the Master, as she very calmly aimed it at him. No one noticed when she pulled the trigger, but everyone heard the shot as she fired.


The Doctor's head snapped up in time to see the Master stagger and fall. He lay in front of the two of them, blood pooling beneath him.

"It's always the women," he choked. Jack took the gun from Lucy, who watched her husband with a glassy, detached expression. "Looks like you'll be the last of the Time Lords again," he said with a twisted smile.

"Nonsense," the Doctor bit back. "It's just a bullet. Regenerate."

The Master grated out a laugh. "Put the human down. Let her die and I will live."

The Doctor stared at him. He could feel the time lines straining. The path he was on split and he hovered at the crossroads. His relationship with the Master was never simple. Beneath the surface a thousand emotions writhed, a million memories. Friends, enemies, something in between. Time and time again they fought, and their battles shaped the contours of his soul.

One Time Lord survived, and it had to be him—his deadliest friend and dearest enemy. It couldn't be Susan, his granddaughter, who had nothing to do with the Time War besides that she had been born a Time Lady on Gallifrey. She was gone now, except in the memories of the people who knew her, taken out of time like the rest of his people. If he could save one, just one of them, if he wasn't alone—

And then he looked down at Rose. Her face was pale and the stain over her middle was getting larger. She was losing too much blood. If he wanted her to live, he needed to get her to the TARDIS, and now. But more than that, he looked down at the woman who had saved his life in so many ways.

Better with two.

There's me.

Can I just say, traveling with you…I love it.

Stuck with you, that's not so bad.

They keep trying to split us up but they never ever will.

How long are you going to stay with me? Forever.

I made my choice a long time ago. I'm never leaving you.

I love you.

I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be-gods—out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing—

I believe in her.

He had a choice, he realized. The past or the future. Grow, or arrest. The Master, who changed his face, his entire body, but could not change himself, or Rose, who forced him to become more than what he was. She drove him out of his comfort zone and brought him into her world, her family. She made him a part of her life instead of remaining simply a part of his. She was more than a companion—she was a partner. She was his equal in some things and his superior in so many others, including the art of living.

Without change, without growth, the universe was stagnant.

He pulled Rose into his arms and stood, carrying her like a bride over the threshold. "No," he said softly. He turned to Jack. "I've got to get her to the TARDIS. Bring him, after—" his throat closed for a moment. He cleared it and continued. "Bring the rest of them down. We can take them home later."

"I can help," Martha said, stepping forward. "I'm almost a doctor, after all."

He nodded, and they ran to the TARDIS.


Jack, Francine, Clive, and Tish sat around the table in the TARDIS kitchen. They hadn't been phased at all by the incongruous ship, but he supposed that after a year with the Master, something that was bigger on the inside wasn't as surprising as it would be usually. Francine and Tish were sipping tea from a couple of mismatched mugs. Clive didn't want any, and Jack's own mug sat on the table, the beverage inside slowly cooling. It should have been Rose putting the kettle on, dropping the little bags in, measuring out sugar and milk just how they liked it. She was always making tea. She would bring him and the Doctor mugs while they tinkered with the TARDIS, and sometimes sandwiches too. Then she would curl up with her own on the jumpseat and watch them or read a magazine. Sometimes she would fall asleep, and the Doctor would carry her to her bedroom when they were finished and tuck her in.

Francine's voice broke through his thoughts. "Who is she?"

"A very good friend," he replied. "The last person I thought I'd ever see again."

She shook her head. "I mean, who is she, to the Doctor?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but someone else beat him to it.

"She's the woman he loves, Mum." Martha pulled a chair out next to Jack and sank into it.

"But I thought you and him…"

Martha groaned. "No, Mum. We're not like that, we never have been. I keep telling you that, and you don't listen."

"She travelled with him before Martha," Jack said quietly. "She was with him when I met them." He grinned. "I never did tell you that story, did I?" The other four shook their heads, and Jack launched into the tale of how he almost ended the human race. It was good to talk about happier times, even though they hadn't felt like happier times when he was living them. Martha didn't believe him when he told her about rescuing Rose from death by barrage balloon.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed.

He smiled. "I'm not. She was always a bit 'jeopardy friendly,' as the Doctor used to say."

"It's just, the way he talks about her…I always pictured her as some kind of blonde superwoman."

"She's human," Jack pointed out, "so human. And she was fantastic. She has more compassion than I've ever seen. She was the one who made me remember that I could be something besides a conman, but she wasn't perfect. She wandered off and got into trouble just like the rest of us."

"What was he like, when you met him?" she asked wistfully.

Jack examined the tea in his mug for a moment before he replied. "Remember what I said about regeneration?" She nodded. "He didn't look the same, for one. He had big ears and a big nose and these eyes that could see right through you. He looked like a soldier, but that was just after the Time War. He was brittle and angry and alone. This Doctor is manic energy and rushing about—he was rough edges and hard angles. He saved me because that's what he does—he saves people, but he gave me a chance to prove myself because Rose liked me."

"It all comes back to her," Martha commented. She knew that her family was watching them, and she was grateful that they kept silent. She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but she knew she failed. She wanted to hate the other woman. It seemed like she had everything that Martha wanted. But after meeting her, after hearing her stories and knowing that for a year she was at least part of the reason that Martha was alive right now, hating her was difficult.

Jack placed a comforting hand on her arm. "There aren't words for what they are, Martha. I'm not sure I understand it, and I travelled with them for months. At first I thought that they were lovers, but it wasn't physical." He grinned. "Although they 'keep away' signs were about a million miles high." A distant look crept over his face. "I've never believed in what some people call 'true love.' I'm too practical, I think. It sounds nice, in the way that Father Christmas sounds nice—a lie you tell children so they grow up thinking the world is a beautiful place. But with them—you could believe it. They never talked about it, but when I was with them it was palpable." He grinned again. "Drove me crazy, it did. The tension on that ship could have lit a brick on fire. The number of cold showers I had to take…" That brought a smile to Martha's face. "The three of us made a good team, but it was always me, and the two of them. Rose falls in love with determination, and the Doctor," he sighed. "He has a very long memory."

"The look on his face," Martha began. Jack nodded.

"I don't know what losing her like this would do to him. I wasn't there when Canary Wharf happened, so I don't know what he was like after that, but now…" He shook his head. "She'll pull through. She's tougher than she looks."


It was almost an hour later when the Doctor strode into the kitchen.

"How is she?" Jack asked immediately.

"She'll live," he responded, relief plain on his face and in his voice. "I've sedated her. I have some things that need doing, Jack. She should stay asleep until I get back, but would you sit with her? I don't want her waking up alone."

Jack grinned. "Knowing Rose she'd end up wandering around the TARDIS trying to find you."

The Doctor responded with a small smile. "Exactly, and the old girl doesn't like it when we track blood all around." He turned his gaze to Martha and her family. "Time to go home."

Martha watched her family from the TARDIS door. Leo was back, with his girlfriend and Martha's niece. It was…strange, being around him. He hadn't been on the Valiant when the paradox was broken. He didn't remember the year-that-never-was. Her mum and dad were back together—nothing like living through hell to help people who've grown apart reconnect. She wondered if that was why she loved the Doctor, because they were always running from danger or saving the day or a mix of both.

"Go on, Martha. Spend some time with your family. I'll pick you up after I'm done." The Doctor was fiddling with the console, pointedly ignoring the Master's body, which lay on the grating against the wall.

She drew a deep breath. She'd been thinking throughout the year—all her travels, really, and what happened on the Valiant crystalized what she had been working towards. "You don't have to come back for me," she said quietly. He looked up, confused. She smiled gently. "My family needs me, really needs me. They've just been through hell, and I've got a bit of experience in dealing with stuff like that. All those years I studied to be a doctor, and now I've finally got people to look after." She paused for a moment. She could leave now and he'd respect her reasons, but she needed to say it. "And you've got Rose. 'Cause, it's like my friend Vicky. She was living with this bloke, with a whole bunch of people really, but Shaun—she loved him, really loved him. She spent years pining after him, but he never looked at her twice. He liked her, but that was it."

"Is this going somewhere?" he asked. For someone who babbled on a bit he was certainly impatient. "Keep your pants on," she chided him. "And yes, it is. Because I kept telling her to get out. As long as she stayed there she never even looked at anyone else. So this is me, getting out." She handed him her phone. "You keep that, and when it rings, you'd better come running."

He accepted it with a smile. "Yes ma'am."

She stepped out the door, and turned, smiling back at him. "I'll see you again, Doctor." And then she was gone.


The Doctor closed the TARDIS doors behind him and made his way to the infirmary. Jack was sitting on a chair next to the bed where Rose slept.

"She's still out," he said. "But she's been stirring more."

The Doctor nodded. "Her color is better." He brushed his fingers against her temples. "She'll wake soon." He smiled wryly. "If she had to get shot, at least she did when I had access to the infirmary. Medicine is woefully backward in the twenty-first century."

Jack grinned. "You're telling me. I had to live through most of the twentieth. Thank god I didn't get sick often."

"I'm sorry I left you behind, Jack," the Doctor said quietly.

He shrugged. "Water under the bridge."

"You could travel with us. I know Rose would like it…"

Jack shook his head. "I did a lot of thinking when I was chained up on the Valiant. I've got my team now. Like you said, Doctor: responsibilities. That doesn't mean that you two have to be strangers," he said severely. "I expect regular visits from the both of you."

The Doctor smiled. "I don't think you'll be able to keep Rose away, and where she goes,"

"You go," Jack finished. The Doctor nodded. "I'll wait to leave until she wakes up," Jack said as he stood, relinquishing his seat to the Doctor. "It'll be nice to say a proper goodbye."


The first thing Rose Tyler noticed when she woke was that something was trapping her arm against the bed. She shifted, but her arm remained where it was, firmly underneath something heavy and cool. She opened her eyes and blinked. She knew this place. When she travelled with the Doctor she spent far too much time in the infirmary, either cleaning him up or being cleaned up herself. She twisted her head around to see what was lying on her arm, and got a face-full of wild brown hair.

"Oi!" she protested. "What are you, a bloody cat?" The hair shifted and a face came into view. Her eyes traced the familiar features; the warm brown eyes, the nose, the sharp jaw and cleft chin. The thin lips spread into a wide, joyful smile.

"Hello," the Doctor said softly.

She smiled in response, blinking to keep the moisture that threatened to overflow in her eyes. She would not cry, not now. "Hello."

He stroked her hair as he drank her in. "You, Rose Marian Tyler, are an impossible thing."

"You like impossible," she said with a grin, her tongue between her teeth.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I do. Especially when they're you."