Epilogue

The small blip that represented Romana's TARDIS on the monitor vanished, but the man who had called himself Dr. John Rutherford for years and only recently had found out who he really was watched the screen for a few more seconds to make sure that the portal had closed down properly. Eventually he sighed, then turned around to shut down the equipment.

When he fished in his coat pocket for the sonic screwdriver to disconnect the wiring of the portal stabiliser, he came across an envelope he could have sworn had not been there before. He pulled it out and stared at the energetic letters that formed his name. Somehow they looked familiar. He opened the envelope and found a single sheet of paper inside.

„Dear John,

you know, the hardest part of writing this letter was to figure out how to address you. Of course you are the Doctor, but you are also your own person, so I went with the name you chose for yourself, the name you asked me to use years ago, even if you did that for an entirely different reason.

Soon Romana and I will leave this universe for good. People will think I've died in that explosion and it's better that way. Come to think of it, I'll be dead in two universes now. That must be some sort of record, don't you think?"

He could picture Rose writing this, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, a grin on her face. She must have slipped the envelope into his pocket when they had hugged for the last time.

"Anyway, there is something very important I have to ask you to do. That I'm supposedly dead means the will I set up when I decided to fake my death will come into play. Basically I give everything to the Vitex Trust Pete set up for charity purposes years ago. I've decided to name you as the trustee because I know you will handle it wisely.

Oh, I can see your face right now. Money, you say, money's boring. You're right, but in this case you should see it as a means to improve things. I'm not telling you what exactly you should do with it. You'll find out eventually.

I'm running out of time. I guess I'm rubbish at goodbyes as well.

Rose.

P.S. Have a look into the box with the Torchwood files that conveniently fell into my hands. Oh, and you might want to give Rick Blaine of Torchwood security Ilsa Lund's best wishes."

He grinned at the Casablanca reference, although he wondered why he should talk to someone from Torchwood security. From what she'd told him he would be better off avoiding them like the plague. But charity purposes? She should know him better than to think that he would do something as boring as presiding over charity committees willingly. All that useless talking about doing things that had never worked before and never would. The textbook definition of madness.

With another sigh he opened the box and pulled out the first file. He might as well get over with it quickly. The file turned out to be a case report on the crash of a group of Corilians thirteen years ago. The aliens had been on the run from the dictator that had invaded their planet. Torchwood had sent a team to the crash site somewhere in the middle of Derbyshire and Rose had discovered the aliens hiding in a nearby forest. Not entirely certain that Torchwood would treat the refugees as they deserved she had decided to help them hide without her team members suspecting anything. Afterwards she had been the one to write the report and had sent it directly to Pete. Together they had decided to bury it in the archives, both not trusting Torchwood entirely. The report contained medical reports of the survivors, means of contact and even the current whereabouts of the Corilians.

He opened the next file. Different aliens, same story. And the next one. And the next. He smiled. Rose single-handedly had managed to hide at least two thousand alien life forms in the country, right under the nose of her superiors, only aided by Pete, Jake, and occasionally Torchwood Agent Rick Blaine. Apparently she had trusted the guy. He considered what she had written in her postscript. He was fairly certain that she had given him the codeword that would get Rick to trust him.

Then he pulled out the next file. His. The file mostly consisted of the physical examination he had gone through after his other self had left them at Bad Wolf Bay and notes on certain quirks in his DNA. He had completely forgotten about that. Apparently she hadn't. And despite everything that had happened she had removed his file from the archives, protecting him.

Suddenly he knew what she meant. She wanted him to protect alien refugees stranded on Earth and had given him the means to do it. With the funds in the trust he could build his version of the Torchwood Jack had created. A Torchwood that was worth the effort. And she had told him the name of a potential ally.

He retrieved one last file and on the bottom of the nearly empty box he eventually discovered a ball-shaped form wrapped in paper. Carefully he unwrapped it and held his breath in awe. Romana had given him a part of her TARDIS. Although he suspected the TARDIS and Bad Wolf had something to do with this as well. Most likely it had been when the ship had tried to warn them, when all that debris had been flying around. He smoothed the paper and discovered that it was covered with artfully drawn Gallifreyan letters.

He grinned as he read the title. 'How to grow your own TARDIS in a reasonable amount time (when being situated in a universe not your own).'

"Thank you," he whispered.

And suddenly a universe of possibilities expanded in front of him.

~o~o~o~

Lying under the console, the Doctor reflected on the events of the last few days, while he tried to figure out what was wrong with the shields. The Nestene Consciousness would never have been able to bring his TARDIS into its lair if they had been functioning as they were supposed to do. He had run a brief scan even before he had taken Rose and that boyfriend of hers into that alley, and another after he had dropped them off, but to no avail. Admittedly he had pushed his sleep cycle in an attempt to avoid the nightmares, and admittedly his memories between the moment he had sent the TARDIS into the Vortex and he had awoken from his kip were slightly hazy, so he might have missed something. Now he had time for a more thorough inspection.

As much time as he needed – wanted to take. He knew only too well that there wasn't a companion on board who needed entertaining. He had offered, and she had said no. That was that. No more companions for him.

Even though he had to admit that he'd liked it. Having someone to impress, someone he could show that the universe was more than telly and beans on toast, and most importantly, having a hand to hold.

She had done the right thing however, saying no. He would only destroy her.

He concentrated once more on the shields, but for some reason her face kept appearing in his mind. Shaking his head, he aimed his sonic screwdriver at the component he considered the most likely reason for the non-functional shields, only to be showered by sparks.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

A non-committal hum was his only answer.

"Just wait until the next time you need…"

Wait. Time.

He hadn't told her, had he? The most important thing about the TARDIS, and he hadn't told her.

He rubbed his face.

Apparently he was a bit masochistic this time around, or simply desperate. He didn't know. But for some reason he decided to do something he'd never done before. He would ask her again.

"By the way - did I mention? It also travels in time."

Fin.