I lied. There's going to be one more chapter after this.
This chapter is almost exclusively the events of the 50th C, with a little Rose. Sorry about that, it was tricky to pick and choose bits I wanted to include. So it's mostly the show as is.

"What should we do today, Doctor?" Rose asked lightly as she skipped into the console room. She felt light and happy after a warm cuppa in the library and her favourite book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and was ready to stop with the lazy Sunday-like-days in the TARDIS and ready for what she affectionately still called 'the bits in between'. She was dressed casually in comfortable black trousers, a new pair of trainers, and light pink t-shirt. She made her way over to where the Doctor was sitting with his back to her on the steps of the console room, his nose, upon which a pair of round, brown reading glasses were perched, was buried in a thick book about quantum mechanics. Moving quickly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned over and planted a quick kiss to his forehead. "There are comfier places to read, you know," she told him lightly, amusement in her tone.

She felt a telepathic hum of pleasure and amusement from him. "Anything in particular you were hoping for, sweetheart?" He asked her, his eyes still on pages of the thick book that looked absolutely dreadfully boring to her, but seemed quite engrossing to him.

Since losing the Ponds to the Weeping Angels – thinking about it still made Rose clench her jaw – the Doctor had completely changed his look, abandoning the tweed jack in lieu of a purple frock coat, which Rose quite liked. He wore a purple waistcoat, which contrasted nicely with his white oxford and matched his coat, buttoned and meticulously ironed and on which hung a small fob watch. His trousers were, as per usual, rather short, ending at least an inch about his ankle, which was covered by his tan, lace up boots. He didn't, however, lose his signature bowtie.

"Surprise me," She drawled, her signature Rose Tyler smile flashing when he turned to look at her with raised eyebrows.

He grinned widely, snapping his book shut and carelessly tossing it aside before removing his glasses and tucking them carefully into one of the bigger-on-the-inside pockets in his coat. "Shall we pick up Clara?" He suggested as he began his dance around the console room.

It had been well over two months since they'd last picked up Clara, so Rose diplomatically suggested they snatch her up two weeks after they'd dropped her off at her new teaching job at Coal Hill Secondary School. When Clara had told Rose about her new job, while the Doctor tinkered in the background, he'd made both of them jump when he burst out laughing at the name of a board member she'd met, a mister Ian Chesterton. He'd later explained to Rose that Ian had been one of the Doctor's first human companions, and that him and another teacher, Barbara Wright, had only found out about him when they'd followed Susan back to the TARDIS after school one day.

"Think Clara would fancy going to the Garazone Bazaar with me?" Rose asked as she watched the Doctor twirl and skip around the console, a fond smile on her face. He was energetic in this body, Rose knew, and masked his age and weariness with an enthusiasm that rivaled his last body's.

He scoffed at her, shooting her a scathing look. "There are other things to do in the universe other than shopping, you know" he said drily with a hint of a whine in his voice, ignoring an eye roll from Rose. "She can do all the shopping she wants on earth! Let's go somewhere worthwhile, like…like…"

"Mesopotamia?" Rose suggested sarcastically, unprepared for the Doctor to turn quickly and meet her gaze with wide eyes and practically shaking with excitement.

"And then we can go to future Mars!" He whooped enthusiastically, still walking around the console, flailing his arms about as he did so. Rose had to duck or dodge his hands several times to avoid getting him. He gave her a quick peck on the lips the next time he passed her by, making her laugh, which always resulted in him laughing.

"Did you want to go to the moon, too?" Rose asked him, feeling young and light as her tongue poked out in her signature grin, noticing when the Doctor's eyes hesitated on her tongue for just a moment too long.

"Excellent idea, Rose," he positively beamed at her as he stopped, pushing down a final lever with a grin and sending the TARDIS to their destination. They were quickly jolted to the side as the TARDIS shook, and both ended up on their backs, laughing like a pair of fools.

The Doctor got to his feet quickly and gracelessly, scrambling slightly, while Rose stood more slowly, using the railing to pull herself up and shaking her head in amusement at her Doctor's antics. He shot her a quick glare before grabbing the telephone from the console, dialing quickly and then looking rather impatient while being force to wait for someone to pick up.

"Yes! Hello! I'm looking for Clara Oswald, please." He said enthusiastically. There was a small pause, and then, "Well, then, please tell her the Doctor is here for her, and give her this address," he rattled off their address before hanging up the phone decisively, without saying goodbye, looking quite proud of himself. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at his antics, a small smile still on her lips, before going back into their bedroom to fetch her jacket.


It wasn't long before they heard the sound of a motor and a horn being pressed. When Rose re-entered console room, jacket in hand, Clara was dismounting her motorbike and pulling off her helmet. The Doctor had returned to his earlier position on the steps, glasses donned and book in hand, flipping through the pages casually. "Draught," he said drily, without even greeting Clara, earning himself a reproachful glare from Rose.

Clara brought up her fingers and clicked them purposefully, the TARDIS doors slamming shut behind her, making her grin. Rose made her way over to Clara and gave her a tight hug, which the brunette returned enthusiastically. The Doctor closed his book with a decisive thump, making both women jump. He turned to regard Clara with a serious look. "Fancy a week in ancient Mesopotamia? Followed by future Mars." He asked her seriously.

Clara inhaled deeply and casually slung her arm over Rose's shoulder, propping the other on her hip. "Will there be cocktails?" She asked, making Rose grin and hold back a few laughs.

The Doctor stood, a serious look still on his face, and straightened out his shoulders. "On the moon." He told her, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his pocket.

Clara twisted so that her chin lifted confidently over her shoulder. "The moon'll do." She agreed.

The two regarded each other seriously for a few moments before breaking out into laughter and moving forward, meeting halfway in a tight hug.

Rose smiled from her position, watching the two with crossed arms and warm eyes. When they separated, she moved forward the lean against the console next to Clara. "How's the new job?" She asked her friend, nudging the brunette with her shoulder.

"Teach anything good?" The Doctor added.

Clara scrunched up her nose. "No. Learn anything?"

"No," the Doctor and Rose said at the same time, grinning at each other.

Suddenly, the TARDIS began to shake, catching all three of them off guard. "Oh, oh! We're taking off! But the engines aren't going!" the Doctor thought aloud, moving to the console at the same time as Rose rushed to the other side to look at the monitor. Clara contented herself by steadying herself on the console.

While Rose continued to fiddle with the console in an attempt to get the monitor to work, the Doctor ran to the TARDIS doors, ignoring Rose and Clara's shouts as he wrenched it open and reached out and grabbed the phone outside the box.

"There's a phone on the console, you bleedin' idiot," Rose muttered through clenched teeth as Clara ran to him.

Rose didn't hear the conversation that the Doctor had over the phone, but she was suddenly overcome with a strange sense, akin to having a bitter taste in one's mouth that she couldn't identify. With an irritated sigh – she'd so been looking forward to an adventure – she resigned herself to the fact that she'd probably have to sit most of this one out.

At least she wasn't leaving the Doctor to check out whatever was happening on his own. She trusted Clara to keep him in line.

Her eyes widened as the TARDIS shook violently again, nearly knocking her off her feet. She looked quickly to the doors, where Clara was holding onto the only visible part of the Doctor – his legs. The TARDIS was shouting angrily in her mind, disliking how she was being transported, and Rose did her best to sooth the anxious ship.

Oh, for God's sake.

When the TARDIS was satisfied that she wouldn't be damaged, Rose left the console and moved to the door to see where they were. Outside, the Doctor was talking angrily to a middle-aged blonde woman who seemed strangely familiar to Rose, although she couldn't for the life of her place where she'd met the woman before, and next to the blonde woman was a young woman, perhaps in her twenties, wearing large glasses and a long scarf that made Rose smile. Behind those two stood several men in black uniforms, helmets and all, holding large guns, which made her frown. Rose recognized the building in front of her as the National Gallery, and she felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily. She leaned against the doorframe of the TARDIS and caught a few of the Doctor's words.

"…I don't like being picked up." He said to the blonde. Rose choked on a laugh.

"That probably sounded better in his head," Clara said seriously, looking at the blonde woman.

"I'm acting on instructions direct from the throne," the blonde woman told him, squinting her eyes and holding her jacket closed tightly against the wind of the helicopter blades. The brunette with the long scarf handed a letter to the blonde, who then handed it to the Doctor. "Sealed orders from her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth I."

The Doctor cautiously took the letter, turning it in his hands. "Elizabeth I?" Clara repeated, looking at the letter like it was made of gold. Rose grinned. Adventures through space and time with the Doctor were never ordinary.

"Her credentials are inside," the blonde said. The Doctor went to break the seal, but the blonde stopped him. "No. Inside," she pointed to the National Gallery.

The Doctor stared a the blonde for a few minutes before making his way through the men towards the gallery, though not before commenting on the brunette's scarf, which made Rose smile again. He turned his head, presumably to talk to her, because he stopped and spun around when he didn't see her next to him. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Rose made a show of sighing deeply and leaning flirtatiously against the console, showing the curve of her hip. "Think I'll sit this one out, for now, love." She told him, smile affectionately at him, though she was sure he could sense her disappointment at having to stay behind.

He walked back to her quickly, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the men and the blonde as he reached out to put one of his hands on her hip and the other cupping her face, as he frowned at her. "Everything all right, sweetheart?" He asked her quietly.

She nodded, unconsciously pressing her cheek into his palm. "Just a feeling." She told him with a small shrug and a smile. He regarded her for a few more seconds before giving her a tiny nod, leaning in and quickly pressing his lips against hers before turning away again, back towards the National Gallery. "Clara," She called, and the brunette turned to her, catching her eye and smiling, lifting an eyebrow in question. "Do you have your mobile on you?" She asked. The brunette nodded, reaching into her pocket and holding up the small item. Rose nodded and smiled, waving goodbye before closing the door behind her. Better safe than sorry, she reckoned. She never knew what kind of trouble the Doctor might get into and it was certainly handy to make sure Clara had a way of contacting her should anything happen.

Once she was alone in the TARDIS, Rose sighed. "I always miss all the fun," she grumbled to herself, smiling when the TARDIS hummed reassuringly in her mind. "Thanks, dear," he said to the ship. With a frustrated sigh, she skipped off to the galley to make herself another cuppa, grinning when she spotted her book on the table, patting the ship's wall in thanks.


The Doctor and Clara quickly made their way up the steps of outside the National gallery, flanked on either side by the men in the black army uniforms. Once inside, Clara caught up to the Doctor, walking next to him. "How come Rose didn't come?" She asked. It happened on occasion that Rose would suddenly announce that she was not joining them on a particular adventure, kissing the Doctor goodbye before disappearing into the bowels of the ship. Clara often feared that Rose didn't like her for some reason, but the blonde always seemed perfectly friendly and happy to see her, so Clara was left mystified at her strange decisions. She also noticed, rather quickly, that whenever Rose stayed behind, the Doctor's entire demeanour changed. He walked with a hunch in his shoulders and his face became impassive, bored or frustrated, at times. His temper was shorter and he laughed less.

Clara liked it significantly better when Rose came along.

"Dunno," the Doctor said quickly.

Clara sensed that he did not want to talk about Rose and quickly changed the subject. "Did you know her? Elizabeth the first?" She asked, almost not believing it but also knowing that nothing was so strange as to be impossible when traveling with the Doctor.

"Unified Intelligence Task Force." The Doctor said instead, not looking at her as he continued to walk quickly.

"Sorry?"

"This lot. UNIT. They investigate alien stuff. Anything alien." He told her, an odd tone in his voice.

"What, like you?" She asked, confused as to why they were being brought to the National Gallery by an alien-hunting military organization.

"I work for them." The Doctor told her.

Clara felt like her eyebrows must have hit her hairline. "You have a job?" She asked him incredulously.

"Why shouldn't I have a job?" The Doctor asked, slightly offended at her surprise. "I'd be brilliant at having a job."

"You don't have a job," Clara teased, a smirk on her face.

"I do." The Doctor insisted, seeming to drop his brooding act in order to convince her that he had a job. "This is my job. I'm doing it now." He told her, the tone of his voice rising.

"You never have a job," Clara replied lightly, the smile still tugging at her lips.

"I do," the Doctor replied, lowering his voice to a whisper.

They stopped before a something large and covered in a large, beige blanket. At Kate's nod, the blanket was pulled off, revealing a detailed painting that Clara had never seen before. She advanced slowly, leaning forward. Her brain was disagreeing strongly with what her eyes were telling it. "That's not possible," Clara whispered.

"No more," the Doctor said, his voice low, from behind her.

"That's the title," Kate told him.

"I know the title," the Doctor snapped. Clara turned to look at him, about to ask him what was wrong, when she saw the look on his face. The slight smile he'd worn for their playful banter earlier gone from his face in an instant. His eyes seemed to glaze over and his face became drawn, tired, angry, and to Clara's surprise, she thought she saw a flicker of fear cross his expression.

"Also known as Gallifrey Falls." Kate continued, ignoring his rude response.

"This painting doesn't belong here. Not in this time or place," The Doctor said, his tone low and dangerous.

Clara let out a breath. "Obviously." She whispered.

"It's the fall of Arcadia, Gallifrey's second city." The Doctor told her, his voice so low he was almost whispering.

"But…" Clara blinked, looking between the Doctor and the painting. "How is it doing that? How is that possible? It's a oil painting…" she leaned forward again, "…in 3D."

"Time Lord art," The Doctor swallowed thickly and replied quietly, wanting to look away from the painting but finding himself unable to. "Bigger on the inside. A slice of real time…frozen."

The Doctor reached for Clara's hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around hers, carefully, as though afraid of rejection. She squeezed his hand tightly. "Are you okay?" She asked him quietly, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes.

"He was there." The Doctor murmured, feeling his hearts speed up in his chest and wishing desperately that Rose were by his side, comforting him, holding back the fear, fighting the darkness with him so that he could breathe. As it was, he could feel the darkness closing in on him, narrowing his vision. He could feel the hatred, the fatigue, the desperation of the Doctor that had been at Arcadia when it fell.

"Who was?" Clara asked, not understanding.

"Me," the Doctor whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the painting. "The other me. The one I don't talk about."

Clara shook her hear slightly. "I don't understand." She whispered earnestly, clutching his hand tightly.

The Doctor was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I've had many faces, many lives," he breathed, his voice a rumble in his throat, the first distant call of thunder in the distant, the first sign of the Storm approaching. "I don't admit to all of them. There's one life I've tried very hard to forget. He was the Doctor who fought in the Time War, and that was the day he did it. The day I did it. The day he killed them all. The last day of the Time War. The war to end all wars between my people and the Daleks. And in that battle there was a man with more blood on his hands than any other, a man who would commit a crime that would silence the universe. And that man was me."


Rose closed the back cover of Harry Potter with a satisfied sigh. Good old J.K., she thought fondly. She widely when the second book of the series was dropped on the coffee table in front of her with a thud. As she reached to pick it up, she spotted something that made her eyes widen and she froze in her spot.

She stayed in that awkward position for several minutes because she inhaled sharply and stood, moving towards what had caught her eye slowly, cautiously.

"Well," she said when she was face to face with herself, "this is different."

The Rose that stood across from her, with a small, predatory smirk on her lips, leaned forward, a glint of madness sparkling in her eyes. She seemed to be a post-apocalyptic version of the current Rose, with wild, untamed hair, a ratty looking greenish-grey vest that hung off her shoulders, covering a well-torn woolen sweater. Her skirt looked more like a sheet that she'd wrapped once around her waist and cinched to the side, revealing brown, hole-filled leggings. Her boots have several straps, all of which seemed lazily and loosely tied, and the tops of the boots flopped down, showing their wear through the softness of the leather.

Rose frowned. "You're not me," she said quietly, regarding the replica of herself that was still staring at her with a look that reminded Rose of a hungry wolf. "You're not even the Bad Wolf, really," Rose realized, and the smirk on her copy crew.

"You're clever," it said to her, and though the voice sounded like Rose in practice, the copy spoke differently, with a more posh sounding accent that wasn't Rose. "I'm glad I chose you."

"Who are you?" Rose asked, still frowning.

"Now, that is a question," her copy said, still smirking. "Perhaps the wrong one, though. I think the more accurate phrasing is what am I. And there isn't a simple answer for that, either." The copy wrinkled its nose. "You…you can call me…" she trailed off, her eyebrows creasing and lips pursing as she considered herself for a moment. "The Moment." She seemed to decide on.

"The Moment," Rose repeated. "Okay," she agreed. "So why is it that you look like me?"

The Moment said nothing for a few seconds, frowning at Rose. "You're important to him."

"Riiiiiight," Rose drawled, still not fully understanding what was happening. "So why did he need a copy of me?"

The Moment scoffed, "Because you're not there, obviously."

Rose felt her heart skip a beat and ice water shoot through her circulatory system. "Why am I not there?"

The Moment frowned. "Because he doesn't know you, yet."

This was just a confusing mess. "Then why does it matter if I'm important to him if he doesn't know me?" Rose asked, trying to make sense of what the Moment was telling her, or even who the moment was.

The Moment didn't seem to understand. "Because you're important to him, whether or not he knows you."

"O…kay." Rose frowned, rubbing her temple. "So what are you?"

The Moment shrugged. "I'm the Moment. I'm the consciousness of the most powerful weapon in the universe. The last work of the ancients of Gallifrey." She leaned forward until her nose was only an inch from Rose's. "The Galaxy Eater," she whispered, lingering on each syllable.

And Rose suddenly understood. She knew when the Moment was coming from, where it was coming from. She took a step back, watching the predatory smile come back to the Moment's face.

"You're from the day he –" Rose whispered, not even able to finish the phrase, choking on the last words.

"They day he kills them all," the Moment said, her tongue caressing the syllables as she spoke them. "Yes, that's when I'm coming from." The Moment regarded her seriously, taking in every inch of the real Rose, the real Bad Wolf. "I want to convince him not to," it said. "I don't want to kill them. You're the only one who can convince him not to." She finished, the smirk gone and replaced by a serious, pleading look. "Convince him not to."

And then Rose was alone.

Rose took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out the shaking breath she'd taken. Could she do it? Could she convince the Doctor not to kill them? To save his people? How would that even work? She looked down at her hands and found they were shaking. She had to steady herself.


Time Lords of Gallifrey, Daleks of Skaro, I serve notice on you all. Too long I have stayed my hand.

No more.

Today you leave me no choice. Today, this war will end.

No more.

No more.

The Doctor entered the old barn and carefully latched the door shut behind him, the sack he was carrying over his shoulder weighing him down. He was relieved when he finally set it down, unwrapping the burlap sack and revealing a clever little box covered in gears. He ran his fingers over the weapon cautiously, jumping when gears started to turn at his touch. "How do you work?" He murmured to himself, turning the box over carefully. "Why is there never a big red button?"

Noise from outside drew his attention away form the box. There couldn't be anyone here. That's why he'd chosen this isolated desert. There was no one, no living creature, anywhere near him. Quietly, he got to his feet and went to the door, unlatching it and sticking his head outside to find the source of the scurrying he was certain he'd heard. "Hello?" He called into the vast emptiness. "Is there anybody there?"

"It's nothing," A calm voice from behind him made him jump. He whirls around to see a young woman sitting on the Moment. "It's just a wolf," she continued, and in the back of his mind, he felt a howling that sent shivers down his spine.

"Don't sit on that!" He hissed, rushing towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the box. She was rather pretty, though her blonde hair was a tangled mess and her clothes were in tatters and ripped shreds.

"Why not?" She asked, seeming slightly alarmed at his panic.

"Because it's not a chair, it's the most dangerous weapon in the universe!" he dragged her by the arm by the door, giving her a quick shove and latching the door behind her. He leaned heavily on the door, trying to regulate his breathing.

"Why can't it be both?" Her calm voice asked, and he turned to see her sitting on the box again, elbows on her legs and leaning forward, watching him with a curiosity that he hadn't seen for years. At his wide-eyed stare, she sat up straighter, as though she was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. He said nothing, simply continuing to stare at this mystery woman who'd appeared out of nowhere. "Why'd you park so far away?" She asked him softly, meeting his gaze with honey-hazel eyes that felt like they should have been warm, but instead seem to watch him with a hard, predatory glint. "Didn't you want her to see it?" She whispered, leaning forward and watching him intently.

The Doctor frowned, his chin lifting slightly as he regarded her. "Want who to see?" He asked carefully.

"The Taaaardiiiiisss," she replied, still whispering, each syllable held on her tongue for an extra second before she let it go, her lips pulling into a raptorial smile. When he said nothing, she agilely jumped up from the box. "You walked for miles," she observed casually, pacing around the room, "and miles, and miles, and miles, and miles…"

"I was thinking," the Doctor interrupted, irritated with this mysterious woman.

She turned on her heel, smile gone from her face. "I heard you," she said, her voice low.

"You heard me?" He repeated, regarding her curiously.

"No more," she said slowly, her voice still so low it might as well have been a growl. The Doctor frowned and turned his head away from her slightly, watching her through the corner of his eye. "No more," she repeated, her voice slightly lighter, the words coming out quicker, and she twisted her hips, her arms moving slightly at her side, amusement somehow finding its way into her tone. "No more, no more, no more," she seemed to gain more force as she marched forward, swinging her arms.

"Stop it!" He snapped angrily.

She looked at him with that predatory gaze again. "No more." She said again, saying them again once more out of spite.

"Who are you?" He whispered, watching her carefully.

She said nothing, instead allowing her lips to pull into a dangerous smirk, and the gears on the Moment began to turn, distracting him from the strange woman. "It's activating," he said, walking towards the box. "Get out of here." He warned her. He might not know who or what she was, but he would be damned if she was in the room when he destroyed them all.

He didn't see her eyes flash gold behind his back, but when he reached out to check on the Moment he pulled away immediately, hissing in pain as the scalding hot machine burned his skin.

"What's wrong?" She asked casually.

"The interface," he said without looking at her, keeping his eyes on the Galaxy Eater, "it's hot."

She'd moved to a table next to the wall of the hut, perching herself on it so that she could swing her feet freely. "Well, I do my best," she replied flirtatiously, tucking her chin into her shoulder and smiling.

"There's a power source inside," the Doctor continued as if he hadn't heard her, kneeling in front of the box. He froze then, because he realized the truth. Slowly, he turned to look at the apocalyptic blonde woman swinging her feet while she sat on the table, patiently waiting for him to address her. "You're the interface?" He said incredulously. Whatever he'd been expecting as the conscience of the Moment, it had not been a young, human-looking, flirtatious, blonde woman dressed in torn rags, casually swinging her feet back and forth.

"They must have told you the Moment had a conscience," she told him, amusement in her tone. As he regarded her through his frown, she smiled widely and brought up her hand to give him a little wave, "hello," she said happily, almost bashfully, as she continued to smile at him, chin tucked in her shoulder. "Oh, look at you." She said affectionately. "Stuck between a girl and a box. Story of your life, eh, Doctor?" She grinned, her voice light.

He frowned. "You know me?"

She stood suddenly, all traces of the smile gone from her beautiful face in an instant. "I hear you," she corrected. "All of you, jangling around in that dusty old head of yours." When he said nothing, she continued, looking down at herself and running her hands over her stomach and arms. "I chose this face and form especially for you," She said, looking at him earnestly but seeing not recollection. "It's from your past," she insisted, before she stopped and frowned, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with the celver blonde girl in the clever ship and the clever bigger-on-the-inside brain. Why does it matter if I'm important to him if he doesn't know me? "Or possibly your future, I always get those two mixed up."

"I don't have a future," he said honestly, though she paid him no mind.

"I think I'm called –" she stumbled over the name, as though her tongue struggled to make the sounds. "Rose Tyler." She said, a frown on her face and a decidedly confused look in her eyes. "No…yes…no…sorry, no, no, in this form, I'm called –" she stopped again, her eyes widening as she turned her gaze on him as though she'd only just realized who she was. "Bad Wolf," she said, and the words echoed through his mind like a warning…or, perhaps, a promise? Her eyes flared gold, radiating power and time, and her face became emotionless. "Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, Doctor?" She asked, her voice low.

"Stop calling me that," he said instead of answering.

"That's the name in your head," she said in the same low voice.

"It shouldn't be," he was ashamed of how weak his voice sounded. "I've been fighting this war for a long time. I've lost the right to be the Doctor."

She stared at him for a moment. "Then you're the one to save us all?" She whispered.

"Yes."

Her eyebrows rose. "If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job," she promised him sarcastically.

He stood from where he'd been kneeling next to the box and walked forward until they were face to face. "If you have been inside my head, then you know what I've seen." He said, quietly and dangerously. "The suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end, and I intend to en it the only way I can," he promised.

She watched him with sad eyes. "And you're going to use me to end it, by killing them all. Daleks and Time Lords alike." He turned his back on her as she spoke. "I could," she said thinly. "But there will be consequences for you."

He let out a breath of air. "I have no desire to survive this," he told her honestly, his back still to her. He carefully stepped forward and lightly sat on an old box or stool that had been left in the hut, not surprised to see that she had materialized to sit on the one next to it, her back hunched and her eyes hollow.

"Then that's your punishment," she said quietly as he said. Colour drained from his face when he realized what she meant, fear dancing in his core, where it had made a permanent home during the Time War. "If you do this. If you kill them all," she promised in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, "then that's the consequence." She turned to look at him. "You live." Her promise burned like fire in his core. She looked away from him, turning her eyes forward, and they glazed over slightly as she looked into nothing. "Gallifrey," she said quietly, and he wondered if she could see the planet in her mind's eye. "You're going to burn it, and all those Daleks with it, but all those children, too. How many children are on Gallifrey right now?"

He refused to think about it. "I don't know." He told her drily, thinly. He couldn't mask the horror that washed over his face.

"One day," she promised quietly, "you will count them. One terrible night. Do you want to see what that will turn you into?" she slid close to him, and he could feel her breath on his neck, raising Goosebumps. When he said nothing, she nudged him with her shoulder. "Come on," she encouraged. "Aren't you curious?"

With those words, a swirling vortex opened in front of them, bathing them in golden light and blowing cold winds at them. She squinted as she looked directly into it. "I'm opening windows on your future." She told him. "A tangle in time thought the days to come, to the man today will make you." As she finished speaking, a red fez dropped out of the portal and onto the floor of the hut. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that," she said honestly, a frown on her face but amusement lacing her tone.


The phone ringing made Rose jump, and she glared at the offending item before answering it. "Hello?"

"Rose, he's jumped into some sort of gold vortex," Clara whined on the other end of the line, and Rose let out a bark of laughter at her tone. The Doctor had obviously not warned her before jumping into some vortex and landing, hopefully, somewhere on earth at a different time.

"Don't worry, Clara, he can look after himself," Rose said calmly, wondering to herself if this had anything to do with the Moment that she'd met earlier. "I have to run a quick errand," she realized suddenly, "I have a friend who can lend me something so that if anything happens I can be there in a second."

"Isn't that what the TARDIS is for?" Clara asked, confused.

Rose smiled at the ship and patted the console affectionately. "If the Doctor is jumping through random vortexes that are magically appearing out of nowhere, then it's always handy to have a backup." She told her friend. She confirmed that Clara was all right before hanging up, moving around the console. "Okay, dear," she whispered to the time-and-space ship. "Sorry about this, I know you're not a big fan.

The TARDIS grumbled in her mind, displeased with the trip but knowing it was necessary.


In 1562, the Doctor watched in shock as a time fissure opened up in the sky, a swirling gold vortex. He watched it with wide eyes. "That's a time fissure." He explained out loud, unsure of whether or not he was really explaining it to the two Elizabeths or just trying to convince himself that it was really happening. "A tear in the fabric of reality! Anything could happen!" A second later, a bright red fez dropped from the vortex, hitting the ground with a soft plop. "For instance…a fez," the Doctor continued, blinking at it in surprise.

He bent down to pick up the item when a much bigger something fell through the time fissure, falling on the ground with a grumbled, "Ouf!" with him on the ground, the time fissure disappeared.

The Doctor straightened up, slipping the fez onto his head while he turned his attention to the man who had just fallen out of the sky. He stood easily, brushing dirt and dried leaves from his purple frock coat and black trousers before purposefully straightening his bowtie.

"Who is the man?" Elizabeth demanded, her voice shrill with fear and confusion.

"That's just what I was wondering," the Doctor said, more to himself than to the queen, as he regarded the strange man, who looked him over before frowning and looking down to see himself.

"Oh, that is skinny." He muttered, turning sideways and looking between himself and the Doctor as though comparing. "That is proper skinny!" he advanced on the Doctor, who was unable to do anything but look at the strange man with a deep frown on his expressive eyebrows. "I've never seen it from the outside. It's like a special effect!" He was very close to the Doctor now, and there was a loud sort of feeling at the back of hi mind that was familiar, oh, so familiar. "Oi!" the strange, purple-man said jovially, swiping his hand around to knock the fez on the Doctor's head. "Ha! Matchstick man!" He grinned widely at the Doctor, mirroring his movements with a cocky grin on his lips.

"…You're not…" the Doctor realized suddenly, the answer dawning on him quickly. This man was him, and not one that he recognized. A future him! He reached slowly into his jacket pocket, watching as the other man mimicked his every movement. He pulled out his tool and turned it on, watching as he next self pulled out his own screwdriver, a larger, new model, and turned it on with a flick of his wrist and a cocky grin. The tenth Doctor regarded the new screwdriver with thinly veiled jealousy. He met eyes with the other Doctor with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Compensating?" he asked drily.

"For what?" The eleventh Doctor said incredulously.

The tenth Doctor shrugged casually. "Regeneration. It's a lottery."

Both Doctors tossed their screwdrivers in the air at the same time, mirror images of each other, before they both tucked the tools in their respective pockets. "Oh, he's cool. Isn't he cool," the bowtie'd Doctor said sarcastically. "I'm the Doctor and I'm all cool," he spun his arms widely before pointing at the suited Doctor's feet. "Oops, I'm wearing sandshoes!"

"What are you doing here?" The suited Doctor demanded suddenly. "I'm busy."

The Doctor in the bowtie grinned widely, picking up the fez that had been knocked to the ground. "Ooooooh, busy." He said with a smirk, "I see. Is that what we're calling it, eh? Eh?" He grinned and slipped the fez onto his head and bowed deeply to the two Elizabeths. "Hello, ladies," he said flirtatiously.

"Don't start," the suited Doctor moaned, suddenly feeling as though he were dealing with a certain randy Captain.

The eleventh Doctor smirked at the tenth. "Listen, whatever you get up to in the privacy of your own regeneration is your business," he muttered with a shrug.

The tenth Doctor leaned in close. "One of them is a Zygon." He told his next self seriously.

The eleventh Doctor scrunched his nose. "Eeeewww…" he met his previous self's annoyed gaze and held up his hands, the picture of innocence. "I'm not judging you."

The time fissure opened again, drawing the attention of both Doctors. Without noticing, both pulled out their spectacles to get a better look at the vortex. As they exchanged a look, both planning to talk first, they noticed the other's specs and complimented each other genuinely, both voices raising several octaves in pitch as they did so. Quite quickly, his demeanor changing in a flash, the eleventh Doctor pulled off his spectacles and turned to the queen…s.

"Your majesties," he said with a quick and shallow bow. "Probably a good time to run."

"But what about the creature?" Both Elizabeths asked at the same time.

The tenth Doctor turned away from the time fissure. "Elizabeth! Whichever one of you is the real one, turn and run in the opposite direction to the other one," he ordered seriously, demonstrating with his hands.

With two kisses and two vows of love, each Elizabeth took off, heading in opposite directions. The Doctor in the bowtie regarded the other, a squeamish look on his face. "One of those was a Zygon?" He clarified.

"Yeah."

"Big red rubbery thing, covered in suckers?" He asked again.

"Yeah."

"Venom sacs in the tongue?"

"Yeah, I'm getting the point, thank you," the suited Doctor snapped, shooting his older self an annoyed look.

"Nice," the eleventh Doctor said with a nod.

"Doctor, is that you?" Clara called through the vortex.

"Ah! Hello, Clara! Can you hear me?" the eleventh Doctor called loudly.

"Yeah, it's me, we can hear you. Where are you?"

The Doctor turned to his younger self. "Where are we?" He asked, only realizing now that he had no idea when or where they were other than in England at some point during Queen Elizabeth the First's reign.

"England, 1562," the suited Doctor called for him.

"Who are you talking to?" Clara asked, her voice echoing slightly.

"Myself," both Doctors said together, exchanging a wide grin at the answer.

"Doctor, I called R –" Clara stopped herself. She suddenly realized she had no idea if this younger Doctor should know that Rose was around or not. Better not risk it, she decided. "I called our other friend when you jumped through the vortex thing." She informed the Doctor.

"Oh," the elder Doctor said sheepishly wringing his hands and ignoring the curious look from the tenth Doctor. "I'm in for a scolding later, aren't I?" He asked Clara.

"Think so, yeah." Clara replied drily, making the elder Doctor groan.

"Is she with you now?" He called.

"No, she said she had to run an errand."

"An errand?" the Doctor repeated, a confused look crossing his face.

"Can you come back through?" that was Kate's voice.

"Physical passage may not be possible in both directions…Ah!" he stopped excitedly. "Hang on," he pulled the fez off his head. "Fez incoming!" he shouted before tossing the thing into the swirl of time above them.

Clara waited a few seconds before responded. "Nothing here," she told the Doctors.

The tenth Doctor's eyebrows pulled into a frown. "So where did it go?" He wondered aloud.

They starred at the fissure for a few seconds before the younger Doctor crossed his arms over his chest, rolling between the balls and hells of his feet. "Okay," he said casually. "You used to be me. You've done all this before. What happens next?"

"I don't remember," the older Doctor said truthfully, his voice dry.

The suited Doctor gave him an annoyed look, sticking his tongue in his cheek and looking between the other Doctor and the vortex. "How can you forget this," he asked, using his finger to indicate the both of them.

The older Doctor looked affronted at the accusation. "Hang on, it's not my fault! You're obviously not paying enough attention! Reverse the polarity!"

Both Doctors pulled out their screwdrivers and pointed them at the vortex, switching them on. "It's not working," the older Doctor said unnecessarily.

"We're both reversing the polarity," the tenth Doctor explained scathingly.

"Yes, I know that!" the eleventh Doctor retorted.

"There's two of us. I'm reversing it, you're reversing it back again. We're confusing the polarity!"

Before they could get into an argument, another man came through the fissure, a man with a tired looking face and a beaten, worn down jacket. "Anyone lose a fez?" he asked pleasantly, holding up the bright red hat.

"You," the tenth Doctor said, his eyes wide as he regarded the man in front of him, the man he'd hoped to never see again. "How can you be here? More to the point, why are you here?"

The War Doctor smiled thinly, putting his hands behind his back and settling comfortably. "Good afternoon," he said, looking at each one. The tenth and eleventh Doctors shared a confused and worried look. "I'm looking for the Doctor."

"Well," the tenth Doctor drawled when the other Doctor didn't say anything at all, simply staring at the War Doctor. "You've certainly come to the right place."

"Good," the younger-older man replied, smiling. "Right. Well, who are you boys?" He looked between the two of them, taking them in and trying to identify who they were to him. Both young looking Doctors deep breaths, their eyes meeting briefly before they both looked away. "Oh, of course. Are you his companions?"

It was then than the bowtie'd Doctor broke his silence. "His companions?" He sputtered out incredulously as the tenth Doctor filled his cheeks with air and blew them out slowly.

"They get younger all the time," the War Doctor chuckled, clearly reminiscing. "Well, if you could point me in the general direction of the Doctor…" he looked expectantly between the two of them.

The bowtie'd Doctor and the suited Doctor reached into their jacket pockets, pulling at their respective sonic screwdrivers and switching them on, watching realization dawn on the War Doctor's face. "Really?" He asked.

"Really," the eleventh Doctor said, a tired look on his face.

"Yeah," the tenth said at the same time, his voice unusually quiet.

"You're me?" The War Doctor said, as though he didn't quite believe it. "Both of you?"

"Yup." The tenth Doctor habitually popped the 'p' on the short word, and the eleventh Doctor's mind flitted briefly to Rose. He wondered what her errand had been? Why wasn't she here in the first place? Didn't she want to see his tenth self? He knew she'd missed him.

The War Doctor turned his shoulders slightly so that he faced the suited Doctor, turning his back to the floppy-haired one. "Even that one?" He asked the tenth Doctor worriedly.

The eleventh Doctor felt annoyance pierce through his thoughts. "Yes!" He insisted, his voice raising several octaves in pitch.

"You're my future selves?" The War Doctor demanded, and the tenth and eleventh Doctors shared an annoyed glance.

"Yes," they insisted together.

"Am I having a midlife crisis?" the War Doctor demanded, stepping forward and blinking in confusion when they both stepped back, holding up their screwdrivers like weapons. "Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols!" He told them irritably, already feeling like a sort of father figure in the bunch and not liking it one bit. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said when they brought the screwdrivers down.

"Still, loving the posh gravelly thing." The tenth Doctor said bitterly. "It's very convincing."

Their reunion was halted when several soldiers appeared out of nowhere, surrounding them and on the hunt for the Doctor's head. Well, as the War Doctor put it, it certainly was their lucky day.


They were unceremoniously tossed into a large, empty cell in the Tower of London. The oldest Doctor found an old nail on the ground almost immediately. He picked it up, flicking it with his nail, and grinned widely as the ringing that ensued.

"Three of us in one cell?" The tenth Doctor spoke lightly, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets, "that's going to cause of nasty anomalies if we don't get out soon." While the War Doctor used his sonic to scan the door, the tenth looked at the eldest of them, scratching on the stone column with the nail he'd found. "What are you doing?"

The eleventh Doctor turned to look at his predecessor. "Getting us out," he replied, as though it were the simplest thing in the world and turning back to his work.

The tenth Doctor rolled his eyes at his own folly. Was that look what Rose had meant when she said he looked at her like she'd just dribbled on her shirt?

Refusing to let himself be overwhelmed by thoughts of his former companion, he turned to see the old, leather coated version of himself scanning the door. "The sonic won't work on that, it's too primitive." He told himself (blimey, this was complicated).

Eleven stopped his scratching and turned to face them, an irritated smile on his face. "Shall we ask for a better quality of door, so we can escape?" He asked mildly.

The tenth Doctor paced the room as the eleventh returned to his etching. "Okay, so," he started. "The queen of England is now a Zygon," He looked at his younger self, who was regarding him with raised eyebrows. "Never mind that, why are we all together? Why are we all here?" His gaze didn't stray from his younger self's for a second. "Me and….and….Chinny, we were surprised, but you came looking for us." He said seriously. "You knew it was going to happen. Who told you?"

"Oi," the eldest Doctor complained from behind him, and the tenth Doctor turned to regard him with and earnest face. "Chinny?" The one with the floppy hair repeated, looking mildly insulted.

Both Doctors missed the way the youngest's eyes locked on to a woman who wasn't actually there, a finger on her lips.

"Yeah, you do have a chin." The tenth Doctor said honestly.


Clara was being led through the dark halls of the Tower of London by Kate. Discretely, she pulled out her mobile and sent out a quick text to Rose's.

Something about zygons?


Rose was sitting in a comfortable chair in Jack's office when she received the text. She choked on the sip of tea she'd just taken, and Jack was looking at her with concern, wondering what she'd just read.

It must have been important, Jack mused, to send Rose running at the speed she did.

Which meant one thing and one thing only.

She was going to save the Doctor.

(Again).


As Kate began to morph into a Zygon right in front of her, Clara quickly grabbed the vortex manipulator, typing in the numbers she could see on the screen of Kate's phone. She hit the final button just as the Zygons turned to look at her, disappearing with a quick grin.

She landed with a jolt and steadied herself against the concrete walls of the hall she was in. From further down the hall, she could hear three voices talking indistinctly, and on a gut instinct, she followed the voices, picking up speed until she was running. She pushed the door open and stumbled into a large room, and three pairs of eyes turned and landed on her instantly, making her cheeks redden.

"How did you do that?" The Doctor she recognized asked her intently.

"Wasn't locked," she answered easily.

"Right," he said, looking slightly stupefied.

"So they're both you, then, yeah?" Clara asked her Doctor.

"Yes," he told her. "You've met them before. Don't you remember?"

Clara shrugged. "A bit." She blinked for a second, frowning and looking out the door and something none of the Doctors could see. And quite suddenly, all the tension was gone form her shoulders and she grinned. She snuck a quick look at the tenth Doctor and then leaned her head out of the room. "You weren't kidding about the hair!" She called.

The three Doctor exchanged a confused look.

A voice echoed from the hall, making its way into the room holding the Doctors and earning mixed reactions from each of them. "For someone who is always insisting that I meddle with history too much, this really, really takes the cake, doesn't it?" She arrived at the doorway and grinned, at them, her arms crossed over her chest and the Rose Tyler, tongue-in-teeth grin that she did on her lips. "I leave you on your own for a few hours and when I find you again, you've married the virgin queen. Well done," she finished with an eye roll, the smile still on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe.

"Thanks for coming," Clara smiled at Rose. As much as she trusted the Doctor, she tended to lean towards Rose when it came to quick problem solving that wouldn't get them in too much trouble. Or at least, less trouble than the Doctor got them into. She also depended on Rose for explanations when the Doctor went off on his rants.

"Of course," Rose replied with a wink at Clara. "Someone has to not leave the companions with a bunch of Zygons," she raised an eyebrow at their current Doctor, as though to say what on earth were you thinking?

"Hello, sweetheart," the Doctor with the floppy brown hair said enthusiastically, ignoring her reprimands and coming forward to pull her into a tight hug. He felt as though he hadn't seen her in ages, when in reality it had only been a little over 4 hours since he'd seen her last. He pulled away and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was sort and sweet, and lasted a little too long, because the tenth Doctor, standing only a few feet away from them, made some sort of whiny, growling, guh in the back of his throat.

It wasn't loud, but it was enough for the Doctor to pull away from her, a sheepish look of apology on his face. As his gaze slipped downwards, he caught sight of a displeasing bit of technology on her wrist. He grabbed it and brought it up to eye level, looking insulted at the very sight of it. "Really, Rose?" He whined. "I leave you with a time-and-spaceship at your disposal, and you use a cheap bit of Time Agency technology?"

Rose grinned at him. "Did you really want me to plop the TARDIS down in a cell in the Tower of London?" She shrugged. "Besides," she added, amusement twinkling in her eyes, "why not extend this lovely reunion for as long as possible?" The Doctor who was still gripping her wrist let out an annoyed sort of grunt, and the one with the great hair let out a not-so-subtle cough, drawing her attention.

Rose looked away from her Doctor for the first time and allowed her eyes to drift where they so badly wanted to.

The suited Doctor was standing rigid, shoulders straight, hands balled into tight fists. His eyes were trained on her and her alone. Her warm, hazel eyes met a hard and guarded chocolate brown, making her inhale sharply. She loved the current Doctor's shining green eyes, but this Doctor's eyes…she shivered slightly under his gaze. She stepped forward until they were no more than two feet apart. As she moved, she kept her eyes locked on his, and she saw the panic flare behind the harsh shields as she got too close.

The Doctor regarded Rose with something like fear. He remembered, very clearly, dropping his blonde companion off in the parallel universe with a human clone of himself. He remembered making sure the walls between the universes were sealed before doing his best to push all thoughts of Rose from his mind. He remembered the regrets, the what ifs, and the pain.

"Hello," she whispered, ignoring the tears that were building in her eyes. This man. This mad man who had been her best friend, her love, and her husband. He'd been the alien who'd never had to face the consequences, who seemed to never notice when he hurt her, and the human that had held her while she cried, no matter how hard she pushed against him, the one who knew right away when something was wrong, the who'd do anything to fix his mistakes. He was frightening, maddening change and warm, comfortable stability. From the moment he'd been born he'd had her heart, and, her human Doctor told her, she his.

"Hello," he said back, the word sticking to his throat and tongue and cracking as it finally left his mouth. Oh, he wanted to reach out to her, to hug her, to hold her, to have her in his arms again. But if she wasn't real, if she was some kind of illusion, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the pain of losing her a third time. The last he'd seen of her, she'd had the lapels of his blue suit jacket fisted in her palms. She'd been insistently pressing her lips against his but it wasn't him and he felt a pang at the memory that was still sharp in his mind.

As he thought of the blue lapels in her hands, her hand hesitantly reached up, her eyes locked on his for any sign from him, any at all, that he didn't want her to touch him, and her fingers pressed softly against the lapels of his suit jacket. He let out a sharp breath when her very real fingers pressed against his chest. She stroked the fabric softly with her sensitive fingertips. A soft smile grew on her lips, and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. "I missed the brown," she whispered honestly, letting out a breathy chuckle.

He reached his arm forward and carefully brushed a lock of hair from her face, "I've missed you." He told her honestly, and Rose could see tears in his eyes. He cupped her face gently, running his finger over her cheekbone and down her jaw. "You came back." He breathed, disbelief evident in his tone. In one quick movement, his arms had swept around her and held her in a tight hug, pressing their bodies together and tucking his head between her head and shoulder, face against her neck. She was soft and warm against him, her steady heartbeat beating out a familiar rhythm that he felt he would always know was Rose, distinguishable from any other human heartbeat. She smelled like she always had; a wonderful mix of strawberries and vanilla and time, and he breathed in her comforting scent gratefully. He didn't know how long it had been since she'd seen him last, nor did he know how she was here now, but though the thoughts were at the forefront of his mind, demanding he understand what was happening, he could not bring himself to question her presence. For all he knew she could disappear in a moment, and he couldn't waste any time he'd been given.

Rose wrapped her own arms around his neck, running her fingers through his wonderfully soft hair. "I will always come back," she murmured into his ear, smiling when his grip around her waist tightened. It was several minutes before the Doctor pulled away slightly, leaving one arm around her waist to gently cup her face. He felt thrill go through his system when she leaned into his hand, pressing her warm cheek against his palm. "I promised you forever. I keep my promises."

"What am I missing?" The War Doctor asked to no one in particular, though Clara and the eldest Doctor were on either side of him. Clara glanced quickly at her Doctor and noticed the change in his demeanour, the one she only felt from him when Rose as around. His shoulders were straighter, lighter almost, and he seemed less beaten, less defeated, as though he now had someone who knew his pain and could actually take it onto themselves, making his load lighter to bear. His eyes were guarded but he was smiling slightly as he looked Rose and the younger Doctor, reunited at last.

"Everything," The Eleventh Doctor said, uncharacteristically quiet. "It'll happen to you later." As he watched Rose and his last self reunite after centuries for her and decades for him, and felt a twinge of jealousy, followed by a wave of guilt. He couldn't begrudge Rose for being happy to see him. After all, he had been her Doctor for so long, it was a wonder she didn't resent his current self. He felt a warm, tingling gratefulness towards Rose, knowing that to her it didn't matter that his face changed or his personality changed or that his sense of style changed. All that mattered for her was that he wanted her there, and oh, did he ever want her with him. He couldn't imagine a world or a Doctor that wouldn't. Even the War Doctor, not knowing her, seemed fascinated by her, drawn in to her. Clara moved from her spot near the War Doctor and stopped beside her Doctor, taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. He didn't look at her, barely even acknowledging her save for wrapping his fingers around her hand, but she could feel gratefulness from him, and that was enough.

"You," The War Doctor said suddenly, frowning and pointing at Rose. Rose turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, removing her arms from the tenth Doctor's neck (to his dismay) and instead taking a hand in hers, sending a wave of comfort through her telepathic touch and earning a lock of shock, confusion, and awe from the suited Doctor. He squeezed her hand, though she seemed to have completely directed her attention to the youngest Doctor. "You're the Bad Wolf girl," the man in question said, noticing how his future selves tensed at the name, looking away from him.

"Yes, I am," Rose responded easily, unbothered by her godly title that was more a part of her changed mind than anyone else. "You know me?" She asked, her tone still casual, "Because I am absolutely certain that you and I haven't met."

"No, I – " The War Doctor began, struggling to explain how he knew who she was.

Suddenly, beside the War Doctor, a new figured appeared. Her hair was wild and her clothes were worn and torn beyond belief, as though she'd just stepped out of an apocalyptic world. She had a cheeky grin on her full lips, and there was a glint her hazel eyes. "Ah," Rose said quietly, a small smile on her lips as she understood where the unfamiliar Doctor had seen her before.

"What?" the two older Doctors asked her at the same time, looking at her and then at each other.

"Hang on," Clara interrupted, frowning as she looked over at the three Doctors. "Three of you in one cell, and none of you thought to try the door?"

Rose grinned, nudging the suited Doctor with her shoulder and grinning up at him. He met her gaze and smiled sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed at the situation but not really caring because he was holding Rose Tyler's hand and she was giving that Rose Tyler smile, with her tongue peeking through her teeth and god he couldn't believe she was really there.

When he thought about it, really thought about it. He didn't know why he was so surprised. She had always proved him wrong.

I'll have to sacrifice Rose…

If I kill you…I kill her…except that implies, in this big grand scheme of gods and devils, that she's just a victim. But I've seen a lot of this universe. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be gods. And out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing…I believe in her.

Please, please, please review!

The 10th/Rose reunion was exhausting. I hope I managed to get it right!