Rose stood in her ensuite, grimacing at a bouncy auburn curl. Yep, she was definitely not the bouncy sort in this body.

"No more heated rollers," she told the TARDIS.

The lights blinked twice, and a floppy bottle-green fedora that matched her skirt appeared next to her forty-third century hairdryer. She sighed and put it on.

"Well, I suppose that helps."

The TARDIS hummed.

She pulled at her wrap, catching her own eye in the mirror and biting her lower lip.

She'd lied to him.

She had been omitting information and skirting around questions all of the previous day, but it had not been until the very end that she had told an outright lie. Of course, she'd known that she would have to give him some name and that her own was definitely out of the question. Still, it had been much more difficult than she had anticipated. She had never lied to him before.

Iris Fletcher. It was an old Torchwood alias that they had agreed upon for use in undercover missions. A flower name and an old English occupational surname. A reflection of her own name, but definitely not her own. But perhaps that made it all the more accurate. She was Rose Tyler, but…not.

She pursed her lips and pulled at the hem of her skirt.

"Are we sure about the skirt? I know women wore trousers in the 1930s. I've seen pictures of Katharine Hepburn."

A shock pulsed through her fingers. She jerked her hand off the countertop and put her fingers in her mouth.

"Oi! Has anyone ever told you you're pushy?"

The lights flickered on and off three times.

She leaned her head back against the wall, crinkling her nose at her reflection. She wore a knee-length green skirt with a matching wrap over a sparkly gold top. Green did suit her in this body, she had to admit. It brought out the reddish tones in her otherwise brown hair and the pink in her fair, delicate skin. That's what bothered her about his body, she thought. While her build was still athletic her skin was just a bit too…thin. Too easy to see the blood flowing underneath, the way it gathered in her cheeks and flushed her skin in moments of vulnerability.

"Will I ever look in that mirror and not see a stranger looking back at me?" she asked the TARDIS, watching the way her faced moved as she practiced schooling it in an inscrutable mask.

She repeated her new name in her head. She was Iris Fletcher, the Doctor's new companion. Iris Fletcher, who was new to this life, who just met the Doctor yesterday, who was his assistant and nothing more…

The TARDIS hummed and a plate of chocolate digestives appeared on her dresser. Rose caressed the wall.

"Thanks, old girl," she sighed around the crunch of a biscuit.

The Doctor circled the TARDIS console, humming softly to himself. He was going to show Iris a good time this time out. Something posh and thrilling and a bit less destructive. Even though she had assured him she planned to stay with him the night before, he still felt like he was on tenterhooks with her. Revealing your dark side to a woman you just met had that effect on a Time Lord. Or, well, at least on this Time Lord.

He saw a light blinking on the console and pressed it absent-mindedly. A brash voice filled the room.

"'I'll call you every week,' he says. Bollocks. You're a flipping Time Lord, can't you tell time? And I don't care if it's only been four days on Jupiter or some such nonsense. You're not pulling one over on me, Sunshine. Call me. " There was a long pause. More softly, "I'm worried about you."

The Doctor winced. In all of his post-Mars angst he had forgotten entirely about his weekly phone call to Donna. He scratched the back of his neck. Part of him feared that call, feared she would sense the dark place he had been in of late. The last time she had seen anything close to that in him she had refused to travel with him. Plus, she had her own life now, with Lee. He definitely did not want to cause her unnecessary worry.

He wondered vaguely if he should worry about her feeling replaced by Iris. Companions meeting one another was always such a mixed bag. He sighed, tugging his left ear.

"Ready to go?" said a voice behind him.

He turned and saw Iris leaning against coral pillar, a vision in a green dress.

She gave a little twirl, and he felt his breathe catch in his throat. Hm, that was odd. Yet the way her eyes twinkled and that little smirk of her lips made him feel… no, surely that couldn't be right.

"You look beautiful," he told her, holding out his arm.

She took it and smiled.

"Hollywood, 1933! Helluva year!" The Doctor twirled around and began walking backwards in front of her. "The Golden Age of film is just starting to get its feet. And we, Iris Fletcher, are headed to see history in the making! Behind these doors Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert are making the very first film of the screwball comedy genre! It Happened One Night will capture the hearts of millions, sweep the Academy Awards, and introduce the cinematic landscape to farce and repartee and women with gumption. Oh, you're gonna love it!"

He opened the double doors behind him, and his face fell. Inside were several rows of neatly parked, old-fashioned automobiles.

"It seems I've brought you to a car park."

She squeezed his arm. "Probably just down the road a bit, yeah?"

"Right. Yes." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Just down this way."

He placed an arm casually around her shoulders, squeezing them gently as he sauntered forward, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of her upper arm. It made her shiver. "Oh, this the best era for film! With its escapism and social commentary and pushing of the moral envelope…"

"Doctor..."

"…nothing can top it. Weeell…the post-surrealists of the forty-fifth century come close…"

"Doctor."

"….though they're hard to compare, really. Bit like comparing bananas flambé and a…and a chocolate balalaberry from Hawan…"

"Doctor!"

"What?" He pivoted on his heel to look at her.

She gestured toward a large sign that read "Welcome to Pasadena" in bright red cursive.

"Pasadena. Well that's…close to Hollywood." He sniffed. "Only fifteen miles off. Judging by the architecture I at least got the year right. We can go back to the TARDIS and make that hop. Or…oooh, we could take a train! Fancy a ride on a proper 1930s steam train, Iris?"

Rose picked a newspaper from a nearby newsstand and pointed to the date. The Doctor frowned.

"1923, not 1933. Okay. Well, still have been further off." He rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side.

"Wanna take a train to the 1930s?" She smirked at him, biting her lower lip to hold back a giggle.

He grinned at her. "On some planets you can actually do that."

She tilted her head back and laughed, her whole body thrumming with glee. "How about on this one?"

He shrugged. "Not so much. Fancy a trip to 1920s Pasadena, or should we hop back in the TARDIS and hope I do better on the second try?"

She linked her arm with his, nudging him gently with her elbow. "Know the way to the nearest juice joint? I wanna get spifflicated!"

He tried to give her a stern look, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards. "Don't. Just… just don't."

She gasped and moved her hands over her heart, arm still linked through his. "You slay me!"

He bumped his hip against hers, pointing at a restaurant down the way. "I suspect there's a place over there that's the Real McCoy." He gave her a dramatic wink.

"Stop it." She laughed, giving him a little shove. "Let's go."

After nine hundred years of time and space, the Doctor knew a thing or two about sniffing out a speakeasy. He ushered Iris into a smoky little joint in the basement of a nearby restaurant. Guiding her to a tiny table near the corner where a jazz band played "Margie," he held out a chair for her with a grand flourish.

"I'll go get us some drinks," he told her.

He wrapped his knuckles against the mahogany bar, watching Iris out of the corner of his eye. She swayed to the music, eyes wide and gleaming as she took in the scene on the dance floor, gaze darting from one fashionable couple to another.

"Your order, sir."

"Yeah, can I get a Mary Pickford and a French 75?" he asked, eyes lingering on Iris's glowing face before turning fully to face the bartender.

He did a double take. Before him, filling a cocktail shaker with rum and pineapple juice, was Ood Sigma. He looked to each side and noticed how the other patrons' eyes slid right past the tentacled creature serving drinks. Well, at least it had the good sense to use a perception filter. He leaned forward across the bar.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

The Ood blinked.

"You have ignored our summons."

"Well, your doom-saying didn't exactly make me all that keen to get there in a hurry."

"Your song is ending soon."

"Yeah, got that, thanks."

"You should not tarry."

He looked down and swallowed. When he looked up again, the Ood had vanished, leaving two cocktails sitting neatly in its wake.

Rose watched the careful fingers of a jazz musician dance across the strings of his double bass, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. She smiled, body thrumming with the exhilaration of getting to experience the past again. The Doctor had taken her to the 1920s once when she travelled with him previously, but they'd gotten involved with some trouble involving the mob and some Silurians, and she never got to experience the era properly. There was a unique sort of magic that came with living days dead and gone, of seeing life played out in ways she had only heard of and seen re-enacted in films. It crept up her spine and danced down her limbs, making her shiver in delight.

"Ya here alone, doll?" said a voice to her right.

She turned and met the gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered man puffing on a clay pipe.

"I'm here with a friend." She nodded towards the Doctor, who was currently standing at the bar, talking to an Ood. She blinked. Did she just hallucinate an Ood? She put it from her mind.

"A friend, eh?" the man asked, crossing one pinstriped leg over his opposite knee and placing an arm around her shoulders. She shrugged, but he refused to move it, instead taking to brushing his thumb back and forth over the bare skin of her arm. His touch raised the hairs on the back of her neck and caused adrenaline to surge through her limbs.

"Perhaps you'd be interested in accompanying me up Mt. Wilson to see my big telescope," he husked in her ear, breath smelling of alcohol. He placed a hand on her knee, playing with the hem of her skirt. "Let me show you some stars."

She cringed, picking up his hand and removing it from her knee. "I don't think so."

His eyes flashed, and for a moment she could have sworn they turned golden. She shook her head, frowning.

At that moment, the Doctor plopped down beside her, placing two cocktails in front of them.

"Cheers," she said, giving him a broad grin and taking a sip of the amber, fizzy drink he handed her. She grimaced and spit it out.

"What is that?"

The Doctor chuckled, his hand brushing gently against hers as he took the glass away from her. She focused on keeping her heart rate under control.

"That'll be the bathtub gin. I wanted you to get an authentic taste of prohibition." He pushed a pink drink in a tall martini glass in front of her. "Here, try the Mary Pickford. The bootlegged rum is much more palatable."

"Mmmm…" she hummed, taking a sip. "That's perfection, that is." She smacked her lips and caught him watching her mouth. She bit her lower lip, glancing down and eyeing him sideways.

"Well, I did promise you a taste of Hollywood." He smirked, glancing at her, his cheeks tinged a slight pink.

She laughed, shaking her head and catching his eye. He looked away abruptly.

"Oh hello." He turned to the tall man, as if seeing him for the first time. "I'm the Doctor." He held out his left hand, forcing the stranger to remove his arm from her shoulder to grasp it.

"Edwin Hubble."

The Doctor leaned in to place his elbow on the back of her chair. Hubble moved to return his arm to its former position, but, noticing the placement of the Doctor's arm, pulled it back at the last minute.

"Mr. Hubble was just telling me about his, erm, telescope," said Rose.

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Hubble…as in the astronomer Hubble?"

Hubble leaned back, grinning. "So you're familiar with my work?"

"Familiar with it?!...ehem…that is to say I found your dissertation on photographic evidence of faint nebulae quite…promising."

Hubble froze, eyes widening as he leaned in towards the Doctor. "I'm actually making great strides in that area with the new Hooker telescope up on Mt. Wilson. Some of my results are truly groundbreaking."

"You don't say!" the Doctor replied. He cleared his throat. "Now, I'm just a hobbyist myself, bit of a dabbling physicist you might say, but I'd be honoured if you'd be willing to share with me what you've found so far."

Hubble took a long draw on his pipe, eyes raking up and down Rose's form.

"Tell you what, old chap, if you bring the lady along, I'll show you whatever you like."

Rose wrinkled her nose, but the Doctor jumped in before she could protest.

"Of course! I'm sure Iris would love to come along."

"Good. I'll just bring my car around." Hubble got up and headed for the door, giving Rose a smirk over his shoulder before he left the building.

Rose tugged on the Doctor's sleeve. "I'd actually rather not go with him."

"But Iris, Edwin Hubble just asked me to go look at his telescope!"

"Yeah, and a few minutes ago he was trying to use that as a line to get into my knickers."

He pouted. "Well, not every woman can say a major figure in the history of science tried to pick her up."

She raised her eyebrows.

"You're right. That's a terrible argument. But his work really is your race's first baby steps towards realising the size and scope of the universe. He's on the brink so showing that there are other galaxies out there, Iris! It's living, breathing history before our very eyes!"

She twisted her lips. She always had had trouble refusing him when his eyes went all large and his bottom lip stuck out just so. "Well, so long as your piece of living, breathing history keeps his hands to himself, I'm game."

He squeezed her shoulders. "Oh Iris Fletcher, you're going to love this."

He bounded up and headed towards the door.

As they pulled into the drive of the Mt. Wilson Observatory, a tall woman in a knee-length navy dress and square frame glasses rushed out to meet them.

"Dr. Hubble! I wasn't expecting you to return until tomorrow morning," she said, opening the door of the car and pushing her dark hair behind her ear.

Hubble swept out of the vehicle, striding ahead so the woman, Rose and the Doctor had to rush to keep up.

"I am bringing some friends around to show my notes on that Cepheid variable star I found a few nights ago," he replied, opening a door to the observatory and ascending the staircase on the other side.

"Yes, I need to speak to you about that," she said. "I was looking at some of those photos we took, and I think I've found another in a completely separate patch of sky." She paused. "And since when do you have friends?"

Hubble scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Ms. Clarke. You wouldn't know a Cepheid variable star from a little man holding a lantern."

"I'm the Doctor," the Doctor burst in, holding out his hand.

"Alison Clarke," the woman replied in a clipped tone, grasping the Doctor's hand. "I'm Dr. Hubble's assistant."

She rushed forward, then, trying to keep pace with Hubble.

"I really wish you would take a look at what I've found, Dr. Hubble. I know you don't think much of my intellect, but I am a graduate of Radcliffe College. I was an assistant to Henrietta Leavitt prior to her death, you know, and she worked extensively with Cepheid variable stars."

Hubble rolled his eyes. "You'd best remember your job title, Ms. Clarke. You're here to assist me, not to natter on about your own rubbish findings." He turned to grasp the Doctor's elbow. "Now Doctor, you said your doctorate's in physics, is that correct? Are you familiar with the Cepheid period-luminosity relation?"

They followed Hubble down a narrow hallway to his office, the Doctor and Hubble babbling to each other about telescope technology and the implications of his observations. Alison strode just behind them, occasionally opening her mouth as if to speak, only to close it again and look down at her pumps.

Rose touched Alison's shoulder.

"You should try showing what you found to the Doctor," she said in a low voice. "I'm sure he'd love to take a look."

Alison glanced at her, giving a little laugh. "No, no. Dr. Hubble's right. I'm only the assistant after all. I'm probably just seeing something where there's nothing. It's not as if I have my PhD."

Rose put a hand on Alison's arm. "Sounds to me like you've found something very interesting. You seem like a smart woman, graduating from Radcliffe and all. You should give yourself the benefit of the doubt."

Alison looked at her with a wan smile. "I'm an assistant to a great scientist, nothing more. I need to learn to accept my place."

Rose's eyes narrowed, but she could think of no reply. Alison rushed ahead, catching up to the men, but Rose hung back, sighing and picking at the fabric of her wrap.

It was just a whisper at first, a tiny breath of air next her ear.

"Rose."

She looked around, but saw only the Doctor, Hubble and Alison three metres ahead of her down the hallway. Biting her bottom lip, she turned down the long corridor they had just passed.

"Rose."

The voice was coming from above her now. She looked up and discovered a hatch in the ceiling. When she pulled it down, a ladder descended. Pulling her sonic from her garter, she set it to torch and followed the voice onwards.

"Hello, Rose."

The sonic clattered to the floor.

"Isn't it exciting, the idea that there might be other galaxies out there?" Alison asked the Doctor as he sat in a desk chair, examining Hubble's calculations of the distance to the Andromeda nebula, internally chuckling at some of the faulty assumptions. Talking to Hubble about astronomy was a bit like listening to a friend theorizing about the ending of a book that he had already finished. It was definitely helping to distract him from the message of a certain prophetic Ood.

"Oh most definitely," the Doctor replied, glancing at the side of the desk, where a set of photographs with a neatly written note paper clipped to the top caught his eye.

"Did you see where Iris got to by any chance?" the Doctor asked, picking up the note and the photos and looking at them carefully. Oh, now that was exciting.

"Who?" replied Hubble, eyes blank.

The Doctor looked up, eyes narrowed. Surely, Hubble hadn't forgotten about Iris? He had been enamoured of her enough in the speakeasy, enough so that he had made her noticeably uncomfortable. And the Doctor knew from personal experience that she was certainly not forgettable.

"Are you feeling alright, Hubble?"

"Yes, sorry." Hubble shook his head. "I know this sounds…odd, but…who are you again?"

"I'm the Doctor. You brought me here to look at your notes?" The Doctor pulled out his sonic and scanned him. Hmm…slight traces of cryodoxide. Now that was definitely not terrestrial.

He laid a gentle hand on Hubble's shoulder, leading him to a nearby chair and crouching down in front of him.

"He's right, Dr Hubble," Alison jumped in. "You drove him and his friend up to the observatory yourself."

Hubble shook his head. "The last thing I remember is cleaning the mirrors on the telescope around noon." He glanced out the small window at the night sky. "Clearly it's been a bit of time since then."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed even more.

"Would you mind if I had a look at this telescope?"

"You aren't real. You never existed."

The air felt hot, sticking in her throat and making her gasp for air.

"Oh, you can't deny I existed, Rose."

She gulped, closing her eyes and taking a breath to steady herself.

"You plucked that image from my mind to…what? Get my attention? Well, you've got it." Her voice broke. "Just tell me what you want."

"Oh, I think it's much too late for that, Rose Tyler."

The Doctor followed Hubble up a narrow, rickety staircase, Alison trailing just behind him. Just before the door at the top, Hubble turned abruptly, forcing the Doctor to grab the railing to catch his balance.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly is going on here?"

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it appears you were possessed in order to lead my companion and myself up here. Actually, you were far more interested in her, now that I think of it. Hmm…" His eyes narrowed.

Hubble blinked at him, and the Doctor placed his hands on his shoulders to move him gently out of the way, sweeping into the large, domed room that held the telescope. As he approached the centre of the room, a familiar figure strode out from a dark corner.

She looked just like she did the last time he saw her, cheeks stained with tears on a windswept beach. She wore the very same black leather jacket, with knitted purple hand warmers obscuring all but the fingers of her beloved hands. It was as though someone lifted his memory of her straight from his mind and projected it into the room. This was is how he knew that it was definitely not her. The real Rose would not have emerged as if stepping out of the frozen moment in which he last saw her, but rather, would have changed with time.

"My Doctor," not-Rose breathed, cupping his cheek.

"What are you?"

"You know perfectly well who I am, Doctor."

He began to pace around her, looking her up and down. "Well, you're a shape-shifter of some kind, that's for certain. And given the form you've taken, you're either trying to distract me, or arouse an emotion of some kind."

Not-Rose's eyes turned dark. "You left me."

The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest. "So emotional manipulation it is then. Thank you, that narrows it down."

"What's going on here? Who are you talking to?" Hubble's voice came from his right, startling him.

"So you can't see her then?" Hubble shook his head. "Not surprising, actually. It would take a lot of energy to get around my psychic barriers. Taking a secondary form for you would probably be too much for it."

He heard a loud crash. "No! Please, no! I'm sorry! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! Please–" Iris's voice keened from somewhere below them.

He glanced down into the hole in the floor just below the telescope where he spied a large, circular reflector. He caught sight of a flash of auburn hair and a humanoid shadow rocking back and forth across its mirrored surface. So this meant there were two of them.

Not-Rose stepped forward, cupping his cheeks with both hands now.

"We could have been everything."

His hearts ached, twisting simultaneously in…oh. So that was it. He glanced around him, noting all of the reflective surfaces that were a part of the giant telescope. Well, that explained a few things. It also told him how to defeat it.

He wondered briefly why it hadn't chosen the form of one of the Time Lords he had massacred in ending the Time War. Someone like Romana or Andred. Then again, though the guilt for these actions always lurked in a dark corner of his mind, he supposed he had accepted what he had done that day before he even regenerated into this form. His feelings over what happened with Rose, however, were still a fresh mark across his hearts, wide and gaping all the more since he had been on his own of late.

He met not-Rose's forehead with his own, closing his eyes and focusing inward.

"I will never regret our time together," he whispered across her lips, "no matter the pain it's caused me since." He took a deep breath. "I will not blame myself for being unable to accomplish the impossible. You would never have tolerated me wrapping you in cotton wool." He swallowed then, opening his eyes to meet not-Rose's. "And I will not regret the paths not taken. Because what we had…" His voice constricted. "What we had was perfect."

Not-Rose began to shake. The Doctor stepped back, pulling Hubble with him as her skin began to fizz and spark until she exploded in a giant purple fireball.

"What–what was that?" asked Alison, staring at the spot the explosion had taken place.

"A culpanion. They feed on guilt, regret, that sort of thing. Live in mirrors," he gestured at all of the reflectors on the telescope next to him. "But by forgiving myself and taking responsibility for my actions, I looped back the psychic energy they were feeding on and–BOOM!–reduced it to its essential atoms. It's made of psychic wavelengths, so it can never really die, but I don't imagine it'll be able to reform for, oh, a couple million years?"

"What? You're talking nonsense, man! Gibberish!" Hubble spluttered. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Oh, but isn't it obvious?" Alison asked him. Hubble gave her a blank look. "It was an alien!"

"Don't be ridiculous, girl!"

"Oh, but she's quite right, Hubble. You ought to listen to her more often."

Just then, a scream pierced the air, chilling the Doctor to his core.

"Iris!" The Doctor rushed forward, climbing the stepladder down the hole in the floor to the reflector room.

He found her huddled in the corner, knees against her chest, rocking back and forth. Every few seconds, high-pitched keening noises would erupt from the back of her throat.

"Iris," the Doctor said, getting to his knees and grasping her hands. "Whatever it's showing you isn't real. It's trying to evoke these emotions from you, to feed off of them. You just need to forgive yourself for whatever memory it's trying to use against you, alright? Just forgive yourself…"

But Iris continued to shake. She clutched at him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck, tears flowing freely.

"I'm sorry," she murmured so softly the Doctor would never have caught her words if not for his superior Time Lord hearing. "I'm so so sorry."

The Doctor held her, helpless and unsure of how to bring her to an emotional state to allow her to vanquish the creature that tormented her. He felt overcome by her trembling body and the salty tears staining his jacket.

"Please just forgive yourself…" he whispered into her hair, clutching her closer.

Alison paced around the edge of the hole in the floor, biting her lower lip as she listened to the screams and moans coming from just beneath her. She'd just had an interesting thought. A very interesting thought. Of course, this thought could be very wrong. She glanced at Hubble, who was currently staring blankly ahead, scratching the back of his neck. He was supposed to be the brilliant one here. Surely if her idea was any good he would think of it too?

Hubble's eyes narrowed. "So let me get this straight. This–this thing was in my head?"

"Well, you were acting fairly normal, other than bringing people up here, so I wouldn't get too worked up about it."

A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by Iris's pained noises from below. Hubble found a chair and sat back, looking confused but unconcerned about this whole situation. She tapped her foot in agitation.

"Oh for God's sake," said Alison, lips setting into a firm line. She stepped backward a few paces, focusing on the hole in the floor.

"Wha–what are you doing?" asked Hubble.

"All the work," she replied. "As always."

She ran forward and leapt into the hole in the floor beneath the telescope.

There was a loud crash as her body smashed into the reflector. Pain flared through her body as she lost her hold on consciousness.

The Doctor sighed in relief as he closed the remainder of Alison's wounds. She slept peacefully on a cot in Hubble's office. Breaking the mirror…he shook his head. Why did he always go for the difficult solution?

"She should come to any time now," he told Iris and Hubble as he covered Alison with a blanket.

The Doctor turned his attention to his companion. She was still shaking, eyes glassy with tears.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"It's called a culpanion. They feed on guilt…or, well, on regret as well. It's a family of related emotions. Guilt, regret, shame, repentance, all equally digestible to a culpanion."

"Guilt?"

He nodded. "They make their home on large, reflective surfaces. That telescope would've been very enticing."

She nodded in understanding, rocking back and forth and taking deep, steadying breaths.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, crouching in front of her and taking her hands.

She bit her lip a moment, and then shook her head, wiping her eyes.

He rubbed her back in slow circles.

"We all have regrets, Iris. Things that twist our stomachs with guilt in the dead of night. The only thing we can do is to let go and move forward."
He tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him, shying away from his touch and staring resolutely out the window.

"Then again," he said, eyeing Hubble, "sometimes a bit of regret isn't such a bad thing." He strode over to the desk, grabbing the paper-clipped set of photos he had examined earlier.

He took a seat next to Alison's cot, noting that she was now watching him with alert eyes, having woken up at some point since he had initially left her side. He moved his chair to face Hubble, leaning forward.

"I'd have a look at these, if I were you," he told Hubble, handing him the photographs. "I think you'll find your assistant has discovered a second galaxy in addition to Andromeda."

Hubble's eyes widened. "So you think my calculations are correct? That I've actually found another galaxy?"

The Doctor chuckled and rolled his eyes. "If you had been paying attention properly you would know that I just told you that Alison discovered a second galaxy, which I would think would quite help your argument that the Milky Way is not alone, wouldn't you agree?"

Hubble glanced at Alison, nodding, lips pursed.

"And this one doesn't even have a name yet!" the Doctor continued. "This isn't just some nebula you're redefining as a galaxy, but an entirely new cluster of stars. Might I suggest calling it Alison? A good name for a galaxy, wouldn't you agree? Rolls off the tongue quite nicely." He glanced at Alison, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Hubble cleared his throat. "I perhaps would benefit from giving more credence to her observations." He crossed his arms across his chest. "But you must acknowledge that she's just an assistant, Doctor. After the trouble yours got into today, surely you can recognise that they can get in over their heads."

The Doctor scoffed. "First, I will not have anyone calling Iris my assistant. As it stands, she's saved my life more times than I've had to save hers. And I'd like to point out that she was the first to discover that something was amiss here, even if she was unable to fight it off on her own. "

He looked over at Iris with a soft smile, only to see her staring off into the distance, eyes glassy and narrowed.

"And I won't be anyone's assistant any longer," Alison broke in. "You can consider this my resignation, Hubble."

"I–what?!" Hubble gaped at her, eyes wide.

"What did you do in the middle of that crisis, today, hm?" Alison got up from the cot and strode over to Hubble, arms crossed and eyes blazing. "You just sat there like a loon, while I was actually thinking up a solution! You may be a brilliant man, but it's time for me to stop believing that I am lesser to anyone."

She turned to the Doctor, then.

"I'm a scientist in my own right, and I need to own up to that. Find somewhere where I can actually make an impact. Maybe I'll try to get my doctorate. Who knows? But this is me, taking ownership of my life and moving forward."

She stuck out her hand for the Doctor to shake.

He grinned at her and grasped her hand. "Oh, look at you, Alison Clarke. You're gonna be brilliant."

She smirked. "I think, just maybe, I already am."

Rose shivered and pulled her wrap more firmly against her as she walked back to the TARDIS with the Doctor. She caught him sneaking glances at her, but she refused to meet them. The sooner they could move on to a new adventure, the better.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Mhmm…" She took a shuddering breath.

He put an arm around her, pulling her around to face him and rubbing her upper arms gently with his thumbs. She looked down. She couldn't look him in the eye. Not now…not after…

"Hey, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Her bottom lip trembled and a tear leaked out of her right eye. She brushed it away and moved away from him, walking forward at a brisk pace, arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was supposed to be a new woman. She'd even given herself a new name. So why, oh why, did her problems insist on following her into her second life?

Suddenly, he was at her side once more.

"Iris…"

She rounded on him. "Can you please respect that this is something I don't wish to discuss?"

His eyes widened. "Of course. Whatever you prefer."

She nodded and strode into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind her.

The Doctor paced around the console flipping his phone between his fingers as he guided the TARDIS into flight. There was no avoiding it anymore. He needed advice. Taking a deep breath, he pressed one on his speed dial.

"Run into some trouble, Spaceman? It's been fifteen whole days since you've called. Fifteen days! We agreed that you call every week. If. You. Recall."

He winced.

"Hello to you too, Donna."

"We synced my mobile to TARDIS time for a reason, Doctor. So I wouldn't have to bloody worry about you all the time."

The Doctor ducked his head, wincing. "I'm sorry." He paused. "The last couple weeks have been…eventful."

"What happened this time? Tick off Ivan the Terrible? Get captured whilst overthrowing a megalomaniac on Mars?"

"Donna, you very well know that by the time Mars is permanently settled in 2170 it becomes a peaceful colony for Buddhist monks and stays that way until the Sun explodes in the year 5 billion. Monks are quite good at avoiding issues with megalomania. Weeeeell…I suppose there were the Ice Warriors on the planet in ancient times, had a spot of trouble with them when I was younger. Rather fascinating, Ice Warriors, their story really is an archetype for dying civilizations universe-wide, if you think about it…"

"Doctor. You're babbling. And very clearly avoiding answering my question. What is it you're afraid to tell me?" He imagined that if she were present he'd be getting a rather stern glare.

"I…ehm…well, that is to say…Igotanewcompanion." He swallowed. Better to admit that than what he actually encountered on Mars.

"Didn't quite catch that last bit, Doctor." He felt a bit heartened by the fact that he could detect a hint of a smile in her voice.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to speak slowly.

"I got a new companion."

"Finally. I thought I was going to have to start inviting nice ladies over for tea whenever you came 'round." He definitely heard the smile in her voice this time.

"So…you're not mad then?"

"What do you take me for? Some jealous harpy who won't let you have other friends? I told you the first time we met that you need someone travelling with you, you dumbo!"

"Yes, well…ehem… that was before..."

"So, what's her name? What's she like?" she asked.

"Her name is Iris Fletcher. And she's…well, I don't know what to make of her, really."

"Sounds like just your type."

"My type? I don't have a type, Donna."

"You need someone who can throw you off kilter a bit. Someone who challenges you."

"Well, I suppose she fits that description."

There was a pause. "So, is she pretty?"

"I don't see how that matters, but…ehm….well, I suppose her features have a certain symmetry that most species tend to find appealing when judging attractiveness." He sniffed.

"Ha! According to my Doctor-to-Donna dictionary that means she's flipping gorgeous. I've seen pictures of your former companions. You do tend to go for the sort who could moonlight as supermodels."

"We're not having this conversation, Donna. You know very well that my relationships with my companions are strictly platonic." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked distractedly up at the ceiling.

"Dare I mention—?"

"Rose was a rare exception in what has been nearly a millennium of travelling time and space."

"Oh come off it. I seriously doubt that you've only been in love once in nine hundred years."

The Doctor was silent for a long moment, studying his trainers.

"There are kinds and degrees of that emotion, Donna, and I've felt it for all of my companions in one form or another," he said at long last.

Donna was quiet a moment, and the Doctor could sense her struggling over whether to push this line of questioning.

"You can't play the grieving widower forever, Doctor. There comes a point where you need to move on."

He let out a breath and rubbed his temples. "Donna, when you're a member of a species as long-lived as mine, six years is the blink of an eye. Plus, Time Lords, we're quite….stalwart in our emotions." He cleared his throat. "It takes a regeneration to bring about any real change in us, though even then, if it's central enough to who you are…"

Donna paused. "Well, Iris must be brilliant if you've finally decided to take someone aboard after all this time."

The Doctor let out a breath, relieved Donna wasn't going to push this anymore.

"She is," he replied softly, ducking his head a moment. "I'm a bit worried about her, though."

"Why's that?"

"There was an…incident. I've been travelling with you lot a long time. You need to talk about things when you've experienced something traumatic. But she just…shuts me out." He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back on the jump seat.

"Bit rich coming from you, isn't it?"

"I–wha–Donna, what's that supposed to mean?"

Donna snorted. "Well, it's not like you're the most forthcoming bloke, now are you? Have to pry any information about your past out of you. I mean, I get it. Living the life you lead there would be some things I wouldn't care to relive either. But maybe it's the same for her. You have to respect there might be some things she prefers not to talk about, yeah?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I…yes. Yes, I suppose so. I just…I…" He gulped and took a breath. "I hate to see her in pain."

"She'll be okay, Spaceman."

He ducked his head and nodded.

Rose hesitated just outside the console room the next morning. She didn't think the Doctor would hold last night against her, but…she sighed. She hoped she could make him let it go. She didn't need her old ghosts holding her back from this new life she was forming with him.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you last night," she told his back.

He spun around, eyes wide. "No…no, I shouldn't have pushed you, Iris. It was unfair of me."

She shook her head. "Water under the bridge."

He nodded, pulling his ear. "Good."

"Good."

"Good."

They stared at each other a long moment. The Doctor stood perfectly still, eyes large as he watched her every move.

Rose stepped forward, grabbing his hand. "I'm thinking today's the perfect day for a proper adventure." She held out a trainer-clad foot. "These feet are just itching to run for my life." She tilted her head, biting her lip and looking up at him. "You up for some world-saving, Doctor?"

His face broke into a wide grin, and he swept her up in a hug, twirling her around before setting her down, keeping his hands on her waist.

"Always, Iris Fletcher," he replied, her heart twinging at the pseudonym. "Always."