This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

Chapter 10

The next morning, the lid of the tabletop reactor hissed as he pried open the seal. Vapor escaped around the edges. Behind him, the doors unlatched with a faint click.

"I heard you let 'Thet go last night," Rose said from the doorway. "Is it true?"

The sound of her voice zapped through his frame but he refused to show his surprise. "Yes," he said as he extracted the yield from the reactor with a pair of tongs.

"Why?"

His gaze fell to the roundels along the far end of the chamber. "Why does it matter?"

"'Cause it does."

"That's not a legitimate answer."

"Yeah?" she said, "well neither is answering my question with another question."

He eased the beaker into a metal holding stand as trainers squeaked behind him—Rose must have found her old clothes again. Finest shoes in all the universe and she wouldn't touch them.

"I need to know 'cause it matters to me," she said as her voice drew nearer. "He was your best warrior, so why let him go?"

"My executive decisions are my own. I don't answer to you." He inserted a fresh tube into the cell and flipped the lid closed with more force than necessary.

"You told me to stay away from him yesterday, and now he's gone. Was it 'cause of me?"

He stiffened. Was it that obvious? "He was … defiant, unstable. I couldn't risk him acting against my orders."

"You could have killed him."

"… True."

Rose moved around the table, placed her palms on the surface, and leveled her gaze at him. "So why didn't you?"

She wore her common attire—navy jacket, purple blouse, and black slacks. Her hair lay flat against her face, her bangs tucked under a pin like they had been the day she materialized on Starfall, before she had to go and upend his life. An ache throbbed in his ribcage, as though the blow from the night before had yet to heal.

He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "All that matters is that I neutralized the threat before he compromised a valuable asset. Your knowledge of the darkness—"

"Don't give me that 'valuable asset' crap. You kissed me last night and I need to know what it means."

Heat flashed across his skin. "You kissed me first," he said in a rush, "and you made it abundantly clear it meant nothing so don't be surprised if I tell you the same." He moved around her.

Rose caught hold of him and tugged him to a stop. "Look me in the eye and answer me. Do you care about my well-being or not? And not just 'cause you think I'm property, but 'cause you properly, genuinely care?"

"What a ridiculous question." He shrugged her off and smoothed the wrinkles from his velvet sleeves. "Completely irrelevant. Why would you even ask that?"

"'Cause I need to know if you are capable of caring."

"And what difference could that possibly make?"

"All the difference in the world."

"Well I don't care," he said as he turned back to his work station. "It's the regeneration, something must have gone wrong. And then you waltz in with your dimension hopper and suddenly everything is all different. It's like I'm"—he gripped the edge of the table— "defective."

"Caring isn't a defect you know." Her voice softened. "It's normal, even for Time Lords."

"It's weakness. And I explicitly said I don't care."

"And being alone?" she asked. "How has that worked out for you?"

"Well enough for centuries, thank you very much." He stood and faced her. "Whatever is wrong I'll sort it myself. You were right about me. I'm selfish and heartless, and I don't need you or your feelings."

Rose chewed on the edge of her cheek. "Is that really what you want? To go on alone, jumping from parallel to parallel? 'Cause let me tell you, it's no picnic."

He maneuvered around her to calibrate the stabilizers at the console. "I don't need anyone."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Why bother with this conversation?" He jabbed at the controls. "You made your opinion of me quite clear last night."

"I was wrong."

The cold metal rings of the gravitic anomaliser stalled in his hand. "Were you?"

"Don't get used me saying it either, your highness."

He glanced sideways at her. "There's a surprise, you admitting you were wrong."

"Yeah," Rose said with a puff of air, "about as surprising as you admitting I was right."

He couldn't stop the twitch at the edge of his mouth—there was the old Rose, and that sense of geniality he thought he'd never hear again.

"And I bother 'cause I care," she added, "about you."

The gyroscope spun out of his grasp and he could have sworn the dimensions shifted around them.

Rose traced the buttons along the dash, idling toward him with slow movements as though approaching a bird she didn't want to spook. "When we were out there yesterday, getting chips and saving the world, it was the most fun I'd had in years. And if you care, if I matter to you, then let's go, just you and me." She settled next to him and placed her hand on his, trapping him under the power of her steady gaze. "We can save creation together."

"What would you have me do?" The words came out breathy and desperate, and sounded as strange as he felt.

"Free them. You don't have to conquer the universe to enjoy it. We don't need them. We don't need any of this."

What was he thinking? He yanked his hand out from under hers and retreated to the other end of the console. "That's too much to ask."

She leaned across the dash. "Why? You let Ayaliah go. You let 'Thet go of your own free will."

"That's different."

"No it isn't. There's goodness in you."

"No misguided hope of yours can ever undo the deeds I've done, so what's the point?" A slight tremble worked up his elbows into his wrists and he flattened his hands on the console to still them. Curse her control over him. "What would I gain by freeing my servants and returning my collections except to lose everything?"

"Well what's the point of keeping it all? You never use any of it and you can't take them with you." Once more, she continued her advance with slow, calculated steps, as if she could smell his vulnerability. "But you can take me."

There it was, the request he could neither grant nor deny. He threw his hands in the air. "But don't you see? I'll lose you too, to that Doctor." His cheeks prickled, then burned as he hung his head.

He said too much.

Rose spoke again, her voice closer, gentler. "He wasn't exactly a saint when I met him either you know. Everyone deserves a second chance, even you." She tilted his chin up until he was forced to look at her. "I can't promise the future, but I can promise some laughs and a hand to hold along the way. Whadaya say?" She grazed the stubble along his cheeks with a barely-there touch and he let out a shuddering exhale.

No use pretending anymore. The only person he was fooling was himself.

Life had always been a game of risk and reward, but could he really give up everything he'd worked so hard to gain for this woman?

He nuzzled her palm and sighed. The battle was lost; the logistics didn't matter now. Whatever the outcome, whatever the ultimate cost, his empire was hers.

"Last trip," Rose said as she clutched the console. "I could use a nice warm cuppa after this."

For the hundredth time, the spinning lights of the time rotor stilled. The door creaked open. Tendrils of icy air swirled into the room, glittering the floor with sand and mica.

Sikah didn't move from his post at the entrance, nor did he bear the look of shock the others displayed when told they were free. Instead he stared at the familiar stars just beyond the threshold, longing in the wrinkles around his eyes.

"I relieve you of your duties," he said to the shadewalker. With a wave of his screwdriver, Sikah's bracelet clattered onto the floor.

Sikah jumped. He nudged the open shackle with his foot as though waiting for the trap to spring. After a long moment of consideration, he took a tentative step forward. "I do not pretend to know the nuances of your species, but the transformation I have witnessed in you defies logic." His attention flitted toward Rose. "Or perhaps I underestimated the power of your new mate. How could a simple human have wrought such a change?"

Rose crossed her arms. "Did you just call me simple? And who said I was his—"

"That will be all, Sikah." Let him think what he will, so long as he never had to look at him again.

"Of course, my Lord. I take my leave." Sikah bowed for the last time. Without a backward glance, he passed into the shadows of his world.

"Who was he anyway?" Rose asked.

"Emperor of the dark realm, Stygiria. Or at least, he will be." The door swung shut, cutting off the cold. "I've often wondered why I've never triggered a paradox, considering how many I've pulled out of history. Now I know."

"'Cause of me you mean?" Rose twisted a lock of hair against the contours of her mouth. "—coming here and suggesting you send them back?" Lip gloss stippled across the twin arches of her upper lip, then smeared along the plump flesh of the lower one.

"Must be." Perspiration beaded along his neck. They were alone now, entire ship to themselves. Sure they'd been alone before, but the dynamics of their relationship had shifted. This was uncharted territory.

"Speaking of suggestions"—Rose pivoted toward him—"if we're gonna save creation together, we need to lay down some ground rules."

He tugged at his open collar. "Rules? You never said anything about—"

"Rule one," she continued, "no killing. We'll start with getting rid of that laser of yours." She nodded toward his pocket. "Out with it."

"You can't be serious."

Rose held out her hand and beckoned with her fingers. "Totally serious."

"Oh, no you don't." He stepped back, hand over the bulge under his breast pocket. "Not the screwdriver."

"Yep."

"But a man needs his screwdriver." How could she expect him to divorce himself from a permanent extension of his arm?

"It's not the screwdriver that's the problem," she said as she lunged for his jacket. "It's the laser bit."

He swerved from her grasp. "Well, we can't all have sonic you know. It's not like I can just pop down to the shop and—"

"Oh, would you look at that?" Rose bent down to examine a clear tube sticking out of the flap of the fabrication dispenser on the console beside them. She plucked out a screwdriver, a sonic screwdriver.

He glanced down at the dispenser, then back up at her. "How did—"

"You said yourself the old girl was sentient." She gave the console a pat. "Seems she agrees with me."

Conspiring fiends, the both of them. He cradled his laser against his chest. "Is nothing sacred?"

"Quit whining and hand it over already."

He angled his back toward her. "I know you think you can just bat those eyes of yours and get whatever you want, but there are some lines which must not be crossed."

Rose squared her shoulders. She licked her lips, then smiled, the type of devious smile that made one want to brace. "Betcha this thing has some cool sonicky features you haven't thought of," she said in a sing-song voice. "Shiny too, don't you think?" The blue tip of the sonic screwdriver caught the light as she waggled it between her forefinger and thumb.

Did it have dampers? Could it resonate on lower frequencies? He swiped at it, but Rose pulled it back like a treat before a domesticated pet.

"Nuh-uh," she said. "That one first."

"You know, I'm starting to rethink this whole arrangement."

She cupped the device against her cheek and fluttered her dark lashes. "But it's sonic. So impressive, remember?"

Before he could stop himself, he handed it over.

Rose shoved the new one at him and sauntered towards the double doors. "Now then, where's that cuppa?"

"Don't know what you expect," he said as he admired the sway of her hips. "With all the servants gone we're likely to starve now."

"Don't be so dramatic."

He followed her but stopped in the corridor. Where once stood grand columns of stone now stood a closed-in hallway. Conduits snaked along the low ceiling. A blue glow flanked the graded walkway like landing lights on an airstrip.

What on Gallifrey was going on?

Rose disappeared around the corner. He hurried after her and wandered into a tiny room lined with cupboards the color of aged paper. A kettle trembled atop a pint-sized stove, a round wooden table with a diameter no bigger than his arm crammed into the corner.

"This is … different," he said.

"Not to me." Rose fiddled with something by the counter which clinked and clacked just out of sight. "This kitchen was my second home on the TARDIS in my universe."

He eyed the peeling paint along the beams above his head. "Why is it so … unsightly?"

"It's not unsightly." She petted the handle of the kettle as though he'd offended it. "It's cozy. Very English cottage. Now take a seat. Looks like it's almost done."

"Sit where?" He looked around the room again and spotted a pair of stools tucked under the table. "Right." With a huff, he dragged the closest one out and scooted onto the hard surface. So, his unfaithful ship decided to transform to accommodate a guest over him. First the screwdriver, now this. What next?

Rose set a mug on the table and tinked a spoon against the rim. "Just one sugar? No." She dumped in two more. "Three. I bet you like your tea sweet. He always did."

If the man decorated his TARDIS like a poorhouse, he doubted they had much in common at all. Rose pushed the mug toward him and their fingers overlapped for the briefest second. Something pinched inside him in that place reserved just for her.

Well, he and his parallel self had at least one thing in common.

Heat wafted just beneath his nose as he took a long, wet sip. Not bad. Perhaps his tastes were closer to his counterpart than he'd care to admit. "How extraordinary," he said above the steam. "A week ago, I would have killed you for daring to suggest I free my servants, and yet here I am, drinking tea with you on a completely empty ship with no thought of what tomorrow will bring."

Rose hummed into her cup as she leaned against the sink, eyes half closed. "Maybe you just needed some gentle persuasion."

"No, Sikah was right. Something isn't adding up. I've been experiencing foreign emotions, embarrassment, anxiety, and concern." Among other things. "That's never happened before."

"But don't you get a new body during regeneration? Why couldn't you just change?"

"It doesn't work like that." He set down his mug. "We Time Lords are beholden to our bodies to a certain extent, yes, but our essence always stays intact. Our core energy writes the DNA for each new body based on past experience. Essentially we turn into what will best suit us at that moment, building on what we were before, but we don't completely change. Not like this."

Rose traced the rim of her mug, vapor swirling around her hand. "So you're saying you couldn't go from a sociopath to a man who feels"— a hint of pink flushed at her cheeks—"stuff?"

His cup felt slick against his clammy fingertips, though from the warmth of his beverage or her inexplicable control over his sweat glands he couldn't tell. "Not when I considered it an advantage not to feel. The only time I've seen such a radical change is in age-induced mania brought by an overly long life." He straightened his spine. "And before you start again, I am nowhere near old and decrepit, thank you very much."

Rose bit her lip to stifle a giggle. "All right, fine. You're young and rocking it. So how did the regeneration go wrong?"

As he took another sip, he replayed his recent conversation with Sikah in his head. "Maybe it didn't. I didn't technically change until I met you, after I had already regenerated." He tucked his free hand under his chin. "Maybe it is something to do with you. Something to do with Bad Wolf."

"Me? But I told you, I haven't done anything."

"But you have, don't you see? It's as if time writes itself around you, adjusts to your presence, allows you to accomplish things that normal people can't. You're writing history just by being here—I sensed it the moment we met."

She lugged out the other stool and slumped onto it. "So somehow I've messed things up."

"No no no. It was always meant to happen this way, remember? If I hadn't returned all those people, I would have triggered multiple paradoxes. You were the fix."

Rose twisted her mouth to the side. "If you were so worried about me messing up the universe by traveling, what were you doing with all those people in the first place?"

He studied the wooden grain of the table, the worn finish, the little scratches gouged into the surface as though it had seen years of use. "Guess it was to prove that I could defeat the laws of time."

"Is that even possible?"

"Don't know. I've never tested them, even when I thought I had."

"Yeah? Well I vote we leave them untested. We'll call it rule number two."

Once more a smile pulled at the edge of his mouth, but he no longer felt the instinct to hide it. "How many more of these rules should I expect from you, Miss Tyler?"

Rose slurped at her tea, a glint in her eye. "Wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise."