Chapter 11

"And you're sure it's someone from the inside?" Jake asked in a hushed tone his arms folded leaning in next to Rose in the busy atrium in the next morning.

"It has to be someone who knows where these agents are going," Rose replied after divulging her hunch about an inside mole at Torchwood. "So yeah. Who could that be?"

He peeked around before speaking low in her ear. "Anyone with access to the tracking on our badges could know. That's anyone with level four clearance and above."

"That doesn't narrow it down enough," she said exhaling in frustration, pushing her sleek hair behind her shoulders.

"Chin up! You'll figure something out," he said with a smirk as he lifted her face to his. "You always do." He brushed his fist along her jawline playfully.

A slight smile found it's way to the edge of her lips. "Yeah, I reckon you're right."

"And besides, we have the Doctor on our side now. He's a clever one, eh?"

She nodded her small smile blossoming into a smirk at the pleasant memories of the day before.

"Are you two..." he said questioningly.

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, um... no. No we're- just friends."

He gave her an incredulous look.

"What?!" she puffed defensively, inexplicably finding herself blushing.

"So you're telling me that all that work we did to get back to him traveling across universes, facing Daleks, it was all so you two could be friends?!"

Her mouth fell open, caught on her words. "Well... he's not exactly..."

"What?" Jake questioned.

"He's not exactly the Doctor," she finally admitted, looking off to the side. Admitting the truth was another painful reminder that her Doctor had moved on. That he hadn't wanted her.

His brows knitted in confusion. "What?"

"Well you met the Doctor, you remember him right? Well this is not him. It's sort of another... version of him if you will. He's kind of like a copy only not exactly."

Jake's expression remained one of absolute confusion.

"It's just sort of hard to explain," she mumbled.

"How can there be two of him? He's just a man after all."

"Well actually he's not," she said suddenly. "Didn't you know?" Surely he did.

"Hold on, you're telling me he's not human?" he asked skeptically.

"Wait, I'm sure I've told you this before," she contended. How on earth did he not hear the back story after six years of working with him?

"Actually no. You were snippy whenever I brought up the topic to be quite honest. Always brooding about, pining after him."

Her eyes narrowed. "The other him," she corrected curtly.

"I see some things never change."

She shot him a cross look.

He folded his arms, eager to push his luck. "So is he like someone who can duplicate himself at will? What kind of alien is the Doctor, exactly?"

"A brilliant one," The Doctor's voice sounded suddenly from behind them, him having caught the tail end of their conversation. He casually strode forward with a cocky smirk.

Rose couldn't help but smile. Only he could pull off arrogance with such suave. She suspected it had something to do with his adorable face which he expertly used to exploit the sympathies of others. Or perhaps he was unaware of his charms. She gave him a good look over, him looking positively polished in his brown pinstriped suit and perfect hair. He winked. Doubtful.

"Ready then?" he asked her, practically preening to see her wandering eyes upon him. It made him even more excited for a day of investigation, if that were possible.

"Yep," she said stepping from out behind the desk as they stepped in sync, grabbing her black leather jacket from the back of the chair.

"And might I add you look lovely today," he said with grin, his own eyes shamelessly wandering over her silk blouse which was pleasantly close fitting.

Once again she felt her face flush. She couldn't decide whether to be happy that she had his eye or concerned. She settled for both, sliding her jacket over her shoulders as they departed side by side.

The streets were bustling as they retraced their steps from the night before.

"Did you talk to Pete?" he asked as he fidgeted with Rose's phone in concentration, peering at it through his dark rimmed glasses.

"Yes, he knows. He wants us to keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously. Like you, he doesn't want to bring anyone else in on this but us three."

"Good. Well, according to GPS this is the exact location of the disturbance," said the Doctor, holding it up after using it to hack in Torchwood's database in under a minute. He looked back into the seemingly typical street as he pocketed his spectacles. "There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary from what I can see."

"Can I have my phone back now?" she asked holding out her hand worried at his penchant for tinkering to the point of fault. He handed it back absentmindedly. "You know you should get your own mobile. I don't know why you don't have one yet. It's not like you have to get an earpiece anymore now that the mobile industry has taken off. Loads of people switched after the Cybermen incident. And even those are safe now. By law they can't connect directly to the brain anymore. 'S just simple sounds waves like any old phone. Even Jake's got one." Rose elected to buy a mobile instead, out of habit rather than safety concerns.

"Oh but why?" he whined shoving his hands in his trench coat pocket. He never really liked the idea of people being able to bug him. Even his phone on the TARDIS had been for emergencies only.

"What if I need to talk to you?" she brought up.

Her comment caught him off guard. He was sure she probably meant in the context of the investigation but the possibility of her calling just to chat warmed him up a bit to the prospect of getting one. Perhaps it meant she had enough time and space away from him. "Hmm, well I suppose that'd be okay. So long as you didn't give my number to your mother."

She let out a healthy laugh.

"Of course, we could always adapt the Telusian method of communication instead," he said matter-of-factly.

It was only obvious by his smug expression and sideways glance that he was waiting for her to ask before he would provide anymore clues to what on earth he was talking about. He knew very well that she had know idea what the telly-whatever method of communication entailed. God his head was a huge as a Raxacoricofallapatorius. "Oh go on then, make yourself look clever if you'd like," she teased, giving his arm a slight shove.

His teeth shined as he pushed back against her playfully with his shoulder. "Well it involves a high lung capacity, a gredgian sonic whistle, and a lot of noise. Well... I say a lot of noise but what I really mean is it's likely to get us jailed for disturbing the peace. And when I say jailed I mean countries around the globe will be fighting to jail us because half the world will hear us. Makes having a private conversation a bit difficult, but once you've got the complex sound code down it's really quite an art form."

She stopped, shaking her head in amused disbelief at his ridiculous rambling. He stopped as well, pivoting on his feet with a scuff to give her a sweeping look. "On second thought, I'm not sure you lot could handle a gredgian sonic whistle. No superior Time Lord respiratory system," he insulted with a cheeky smile.

Her hand met his shoulder with a thwack followed by his pretentious snickering. "Nor you, if you recall mister part-human."

"Don't remind me," he groaned. "Ah well, mobile phone it is then," he conceded with brief mock disdain before a smile overtook his lips.

After failing to find any pedestrians who had witnessed the bright light from the night before, the Doctor turned to look at the garage behind them. The large metal door was pushed up to reveal several cars and two mechanics tending to the vehicles as an old boombox blasted in the background.

"Hello there! I'm the Doctor and this is Rose," he said strolling forward. God it felt good to be uttering those words again. "How are you today?"

Thirty minutes later, and fully drenched, they staggered back out onto the street, Rose bent over in a fit of laughter, her hair stringy and flat against her face dripping onto the oil stained concrete floor. "I can't believe you just did that!" she said trying to catch her breath. He laughed with her at the absurdity of it all. "And they asked you not to mess with nothin'! Look at this mess now!"

The two mechanics were now both standing, wide eyed, wet, and angry staring at them both after an unfortunate miscalculation with the sonic resulted in the sprinkler system soaking them all in ice cold water.

"Look, look at them!" she pointed still completely unable to move, heartily heaving. "Their faces!"

"They are so not amused!" he teased, as he soon found himself lost in laughter as her guffaws reached a crescendo, her close proximity having him feeling positively intoxicated.

"They probably think were' bonkers!" she said finally starting to breath again as the scowling two men retreated into their garage. It felt so good to laugh, really laugh.

"Maybe they're not too far off."

"Right," she said holding her stomach as she tried to come to her senses. "Well now we're a right mess, look at us! We can't very well go around town investigating like this!" she exclaimed wringing her hands as water dripped down her jacket.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he reminded her. "There was that unfortunate incident with that bucket of..."

"Yes, I remember Doctor," she teased with her tongue between her teeth. "And rather not, thank you."

He grinned before a shiver slid down his chest. "Bit nippy for investigating all wet, innit? And anyway we've hit a dead end. There's nothing here."

"Well we'll have to get back home and change," she said with a sniff.

"Nah, my place is closer," he said. "We can pop in an dry off. Come on."

"But what about my clothes?" she asked.

"Oh a quick toss in the dryer and they'll be fine," he said ushering her to the car just down at the end of the block.

She felt a bit taken off guard at the sudden change of plans but didn't object. Anything to get warm again. And she couldn't shake her amusement that here he was, the Doctor, with his own little flat complete with carpets and doors. Who would have thought, she said to herself spying him as they entered the car. She was incredibly curious to know what a part Time Lord's home even looked like, never having personally seen the Doctor's room on the TARDIS.

After a bit of a drive they arrived at the end unit of a long line of two story flats, the gray stonework elegant and well maintained, a row of large trimmed square bushes stopping just beneath the windows. It reminded her of him, she decided, impressive and older than appearances suggested save for the weathered windows which revealed the structure's true age, much like his ancient eyes. Naturally he pulled out his sonic instead of his key.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He held the door open as she entered, their wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor.

Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it, but after seeing it she realized it could have never been anything different. The room was rather narrow but long and open to the kitchen at the end. She supposed the place had come furnished as it had a neutral tan-colored couch and coffee table, some black lamps with white shades, and a flat TV mounted to the wall. These were normal enough, but the sheer amount of books stacked along the edges of the room as well as the various gadgets on every surface were a surprise. And the lack of carpet didn't escape her notice either. She wondered if that hadn't been deliberate after their little discussion on Krop Tor.

She looked down at the coffee table and picked up a hefty book, Physics and the Spatio-Temporal Patterns Within. No doubt it was for a bit of light reading. She set it upon the The Cambridge Ancient History Volume II.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting company," he said taking a sheepish look around. "What do you think?" he asked, somehow more nervous than he ought to be. He had left the living area in a state of clutter. Well, organized chaos, he corrected himself.

"'S very you," she said nodding as she took it all in.

He gave a small smile.

"Been doing a lot of reading I see," she said with a nod towards the books on the coffee table.

"Yes, well, needed to brush up on my 'Pete's World' history. Don't want to be talking about things that never happened after all. However will I be respected at Torchwood as an adviser if I sound like an idiot? Can't have that," he said, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

"Oh not at all. Can't have anyone thinking you're less than a genius," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Right you are, Rose. That would be a travesty indeed. And completely unfair, because I am a genius," he quipped with mock seriousness adjusting his wet tie as she giggled. "Right, well you'll probably want to dry yourself off. This way..." he strode into the hallway as she lagged behind. She stopped short as her eyes fell upon the closet just to the right. It was clearly bigger on the inside. She let out a small laugh.

"Right, here you are," he said shoving a fluffy brown towel and a navy robe in her hands. "And here's the loo. You can throw your clothes in the dryer when you're done, just in here." He opened white slatted accordion doors to reveal a washer and dryer before passing her by.

She nodded appreciatively though it all made her feel a bit uncomfortable. It seemed sort of... wrong to her for him to be talking about such ordinary things like laundry. She opened the door to the bathroom to find it tiled with white ceramic subway tiles from the floor to midway up the wall. The top half had been painted a powder blue, several holes in the walls alluding to the previous tenants who had hung pictures, something the Doctor obviously hadn't bothered to do. The glass shower stood to her left, as well as a small white vanity and mirror. She couldn't help but notice his razor and a black comb set by the sink. Somehow being in his personal space felt very... alien.

Still dripping and a bit chilly she turned to lock the door and hang up her soaking leather jacket upon the towel bar. It would have to air dry. Her wet clothes crumpled to the floor as she kicked them to the side. Once she was properly dried she wrapped his navy robe tightly around her, his familiar scent mingled with the smell of his aftershave wafting over her. Pulling the collar up to her nose she inhaled. Oh it smelled good. She picked up the comb and began the tedious task of untangling her now wild hair.

There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here.

Stuck with you, that's not so bad.

They weren't you.

His words from the day before swam in her mind and stirred her heart as she watched herself in the mirror. She was attracted to him like a moth to the flame and for that she felt guilty. A part of her wanted to toss her resolve out the window and snog him into next week. How could she be so incredibly shallow as to be so quick to forget about her Doctor, her real Doctor? Fresh ache settled in her. Oh how was she going to manage all this? The new Doctor was just as amazing and funny and brilliant and... complicated. Just a cryptic, just as distant in his own way. Of course she wasn't helping in that regard. She had been trying to keep him away after all. And now she realized she didn't want to keep him away but by letting herself get this close she was taking a risk.

But would it be all that different from what it was before, with the other Doctor? She loved him enough to give her very lifefor him. She faced Daleks and Cybermen, absorbed the time vortex, and nearly fell into the void itself for this man yet they always had invisible boundaries that they never crossed. As a matter of fact, if she had never been stranded here the first time, it was likely things still wouldn't have changed between them. They'd still be holding hands, nothing more, dashing off to the next adventure without looking back. She would never have gathered the courage to tell him how she felt, not after that business with the Krilletanes and Sarah Jane. She had consigned herself to the fact that hers was an unrequited love after that day, and it was best not to push her luck lest he kick her to the curb. She only told him on that beach because she never thought she'd see him again. Of course it was then he was about to tell her the same and for the same reason, or so she thought. The events on the beach just two weeks prior still had her head spinning as to whether or not he felt for her as she did for him.

She sighed. Her hair now smoothed she piled her clothes into her hands to take them to the dryer. Afterward she went to find him in the living area.

He sat waiting patiently on the couch, having dressed into one of his spare suits while she was readying herself. She entered, still dabbing her blond tresses with a towel, wrapped snugly in his robe, her bare legs curling next to her as she sat on the opposite end. He felt slightly embarrassed to see her so... wet. No that wasn't the right term. She'd been wet before during past mishaps. And undressed wasn't accurate either because she was very well covered up, but he couldn't get the fact that she wasn't exactly dressed and wearing his robe out of his mind.

"Well, looks like I'll be here for at least forty-five minutes. My clothes were soaked pretty good," she said, oblivious to his blatant staring. "Those poor blokes," she laughed, idly twirling her wet hair. "I reckon dad will give me an earful when they call to report a complaint."

"Hm? Oh... right." In fact he had modified the dryer to work much more efficiently. Her clothes were likely to be done in ten minutes or so, but he was too busy lost in his thoughts to bother correcting her.

"So tell me," she began "what does a part Time Lord do in his spare time?" She looked around the room with curiosity, taking it all in.

His eyes widened and he took a deep breath. "Oh the usual human stuff I suppose. Telly, take out, and books with a bit of jiggery-pokery thrown in."

"Sounds about like what I expected," nodding and pursing her lips glancing about. "Sounds like... fun."

"Yeah?" he asked meeting her eyes with a slight grin.

She nodded with a grin of her own.

"Well you don't have to be a stranger you know. The door's always open. I'm always up for a bit of company," he remarked. "As a matter of fact," he reached over into his wet trench coat pocket hanging on the coat rack next to him and pulled out a small copper colored key. "Here!" he held it out to her. "Just in case, for anything or nothing at all."

A bit surprised she looked over at him, not sure what to make of it. "Are you in the habit of handing your key to people?" she asked trying to play it off.

He grinned. "Well yes and no. It's always been a contingency plan of mine with the TARDIS in case anything went wrong. Came in handy a few times as you might recall. This place may not be the TARDIS," he said giving it a good looking over, "but I suppose there's enough in here that could cause alarm that it's best someone else I trust be able to get in just in case." Or maybe I just want you to come over, he added silently.

"Alright then, consider me your emergency contact," she said with a smirk.

He gave a chortle. "Except whatever trouble I'm likely to be in you're now likely to be wrapped up in too!"

"True," she said laughing, the robe sliding down her thigh in response. She moved quickly to cover herself but the he instinctively pulled forward to lift her robe just above her knee. A deep scar ran across her leg showing what was once a very nasty wound. He gently ran his finger across the raised tissue causing her to shiver at his touch before looking up at her questioningly.

She didn't meet his eyes, instead she roughly tugged the robe back over her knee. "'S nothing," she muttered flatly, hoping he would drop it.

"How is that nothing?" he asked somberly, all manner of scenarios now swimming in his mind, none of them pleasant.

"Just part of the job," she dismissed impassively. He would likely just worry unnecessarily and probably blame himself in the process. He always did manage to hold himself at fault for things he didn't do.

"What happened," he prompted, his voice barely louder than whisper but commanding nonetheless.

Rose knew that tone of voice well. It was the tone her Doctor used when pressuring others to spill their souls while inexplicably invoking trust. But spending two years aboard the TARDIS had given her a small measure of immunity from this... power. "Does it matter?" she whispered.

Maybe not. But that didn't make him any less nervous. "Please promise me you'll be careful out there Rose," he pleaded. He couldn't stress just how incredibly broken he would be if something ever happened to her. In fact, her life was worth more to him than he'd care to admit. He shuddered at what he was capable of doing and likely would do should she ever get hurt or, god forbid, die on some mission.

Despite his beseeching face she was suddenly struck with annoyance. "Don't know what you're so worried about. How many times was my life in danger under his watch?" she contended haughtily. "I'm helping people, just like before. "'S just sometimes that involves certain risks." His brow fell as did his mouth. He moved to speak but she cut him off, her momentum propelling her forward. "And what did you both think I was doing all these years anyway? Filing paperwork? Or perhaps you'd prefer I quit my job and go work in a shop!"

"That's not what I meant."

"No, you just have double standards when it comes to things like saving the world. I can't do it unless you're around, is that it?" she said indignantly.

He had forgotten about her propensity to challenge him. "Rose," he said the tone of his voice noticeably rising. He didn't like arguing with her in any capacity, especially not when their relationship was still on such shaky ground but she needed to realize that this was no game. The number of people he had lost on his adventures were a testament to that.

Without warning a high pitched beep snapped the growing tension between them signaling the clothes were dry. To Rose, it was a welcome though unexpected relief as it broke them from the fight no doubt about to ensue. She tore herself from his stern gaze hopping from the couch and escaped down the hall to dress without another word.

They returned to Torchwood, neither of them bringing up the previous conversation along the way, which was preferable to Rose. Immediately she stole away to her office muttering about needing to attend to the dimension cannon, shrugging off his offer to help. This was something she needed to address alone.

Her feet were heavy as she stood at the door of the lab she had spent the majority of her time inside the past several months. It had been her purpose for so very long. As she beheld the computer consoles, wires, and jumper buttons spread upon the table she couldn't help but feel stubbornly attached to it.

In many ways the dimension cannon had been a symbol of defiance, of her drive to strive for the impossible. Never say never ever. That's what he had told her. That's what made her stick to the program even when it seemed like a lost cause. Though it was only a personal pet project of hers at first, once the darkness started blacking out stars in the sky she had been allotted full access to Torchwood's available resources: personnel, consults with the world's top minds, access to all of Torchwood's related technology, all of it came under her direction. With it she saved all of creation. It was her greatest achievement but it was more than just that; it was her link to the Doctor.

And now she was to destroy it all.

After stealing a large crate and utility cart from the inventory room, she unceremoniously dumped everything in sight- computers, monitors, records, jumper buttons, etc. Everything found it's way into the large box. All useless now that the cracks were sealed.

When the last bit of it lay at the top of the pile she looked upon it with a sigh. She should deposit it all in a containment box and zap it with one of the many alien enhanced weapons at her disposal. She should set fire to it down in the controlled burn room testing center on level B2. She should do all manner of efficient and thoroughly destructive things to the heap of miscellaneous parts before her. Yes, yes she should.

But she wasn't going to.

Instead she found herself stapling the crate door on top of it, the cracking of the nail gun nailing with finality her decision. She found a large black marker and with a bout of inspiration labeled the side of it: Clom Footwear, 1781-B. All objects of extraterritorial origin were cataloged and kept regardless of value and nothing sounded as boring and as less likely to be opened by mistake than the fashion wear of an unsightly species like Absorbolofts. Genius.

She would slip it into the inventory room that night after the Doctor had gone, making some excuse about needing to work late.

And she would worry about the fact that she had lied to him later.