Author's note: I have made minor changes to this story as of 3/26/14. This chapter was affected. If you're reading for the first time, hello! If you're re-reading, you may notice it's different. You're not crazy. It's better now, trust me.

I nibbled ambrosia and nursed my ankle while the Doctor watched from the other side of the console. "Wanna use a question?" I asked him. "It's my turn, but you can owe me one."

He seemed to realize what he was doing. "What? No, no. I'm just. I'm fine, just fine. Working." He nodded, more to himself than to me, I think. He busied himself among the controls.

The Tardis engine changed pitch slightly like it did every now and again, and I wondered if it was responding to the Doctor, piloting somewhat haphazardly across the control room.

I cleared my throat and the Doctor looked up. "How's the ankle?" he asked.

"Brilliant," I said, imitating him.

"Oi!" he retorted. A flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. He blinked it away. "Watch it."

I stuck out my tongue.

He stuck out his tongue.

"I thought of a question," I announced.

"Bril—" He stopped himself. I grinned. "Let's have it, then."

"Who have you traveled with before? What have they been like?"

I sort of expected him so slip into solemn reverie, the way I did when I thought of people I'd known. Demigods at camp who'd embarked on dangerous quests. Demigods who had never returned home.

But his face lit up. "They're the most incredible people you'd ever meet, Odessa."

"Humans?" I asked. It was a fair question.

He nodded, and then added with a wink, "Mostly."

"What were their names?"

His smile became a little straighter, his eyes a little sadder. "The most recent was Donna. Donna Noble. Best temp in Chisick."

I didn't ask what had happened between them. I just sat, nearly motionless (which was totally killing me), and waiting for him to continue.

"There was Martha. She was a doctor." He chuckled to himself.

I waited. But his face had gone almost completely pale. I wondered if I should say something, like, Hey, if this is too hard, you can stop, it's okay. But the truth was I wanted to know. So I kept silent.

"And there was R—" He choked on her name. A moment passed, and I knew he was seeing her face, in his mind. "Rose." And a tear slid down his cheek.

I abandoned discretion. "Did she die?"

He raised his eyebrows and inhaled deeply. "No. No she did not." He looked at me and forced a smile, wiping away the rogue tear with his palm. "She's just fine."

"So is that all?" I asked. It seemed unlikely, what with his being nine hundred and change.

"Well I should think not!" he proclaimed. The pep returned to his step and he danced across the control room to the other side of the console, flipping a lever dramatically. "There's Sarah-Jane Smith. You two would get along," he raised an eyebrow at me. "Nyssa. An aristocrat from the planet Traken." He threw another lever. "Romana." He cranked a wheel. "Ace." He whacked a button. "Leela." Another wheel went spinning. "Susan." He paused.

"All girls?"

"What's that?"

"Have they all been girls?"

"No! No..."

I laughed at him. "You can relax, Invader Zim. I'm just asking."

"Well I think you've used your question!" He declared.

"I was supposed to get three," I reminded him.

"Ah. Right you are."

"Okay, that was two, here's three: Has anyone ever said no?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well I assume you don't run around time and space kidnapping people and forcing them to come with you. You give people a choice? Just like you gave me?"

His eyes twinkled. "Oh, you didn't have a choice. Not really. You're the daughter of Hermes! Travelling is in your nature. The open sky calls to you, isn't that right?"

"Nice try. Really excellent, actually, trying to get me to talk about myself. But you didn't answer the question."

He sighed, but the smile lingered on his face. Then, all at once, it was gone. "Of course people have said no. Rose." It didn't look like it hurt so much to say her name this time. "Rose said no."

"But I thought—"

"She changed her mind." He winked.

"Good choice."

"Yes, I think it was," he mused. "Is it my turn now, ma'am?" He said the word "ma'am in an American accent. A Southern drawl, to be precise.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I do not sound like that."

"'Course you don't," he said, spinning on one foot back around to the control panel. "You're a New Yorker!" He whacked a massive button and turned back around. Eyebrow arched, eyes aflame, he said in a low voice, "So here's my question: Where to next?"