Author's Note:

NSFW ahead.

This chapter and the next are going to be about as Doctor Who as it gets, but don't worry. If you aren't into Doctor Who, this will just be a couple of chapters of filling in Laura's backstory before getting back into the FFXV plot.

Also, borrowed a bit of language from Doctor who from the burning at the center of time part, but most of that is still mine.

Ignis shut the front door of the house behind him, and as Laura pulled on his hand to lead him off the porch, he tugged her back, pulling her into a searing, desperate kiss.

Be honest. How laughable was I today?

Running his tongue along her lower lip before sucking it in his mouth, he reached around her head to remove her hair clip, allowing the twist to fall heavy down her back and unfurl as he fumbled to put the clip in his jacket pocket.

He understood completely why the others had been concerned with his behavior this afternoon, even if that concern had taken on different forms of expression. Though he'd been loath to make the stop on the way to Caem, he'd found he was grateful for the respite, and the moment they were all safe on the haven, he had allowed his mind to wander—hashing and rehashing his logic for bonding with Laura that evening. After all, this was a decision that would impact the rest of his life, and he wanted to ensure that his reasoning wasn't based on emotional whimsy. Deciding once again that his rationales were sound before going over the details of the bonding process with Laura, he'd learned that his distraction hadn't gone unnoticed.

I think you rallied pretty well there once you left to talk to Gladio.

Hands trembling with anticipation, he unsnapped his gloves one by one, tugging at the fingers frantically to remove them and shove them in his other pocket. He needed his bare hands in her hair. Now.

Hardly, he scoffed. It seemed as though my every thought had a direct line to my mouth after that.

As he spread all ten fingers across her scalp, reveling in the tickling sensation of her hair brushing against his hands, he could feel her tugging his hips by his belt loops as she chuckled against his lips.

And it was a beautiful sight to watch. I'm stealing 'spherical dimwit' for my own personal collection now.

When she pulled away from his mouth to lip up his chin to under his ear, he looked up at the treetops and took a deep, calming breath of cool, salty night air. As frenetic as he was feeling this evening, this was no quick tryst in a camper, against a tree, or behind a boulder—shameful as it was that as beautiful as what they had together had been reduced to such liaisons. She'd promised him he could do whatever he liked the first night they had the time, and tonight, they had all night.

He'd known the moment she disappeared that she'd planned one of her adventures for them, and he was looking forward to it. However, he had plans for her as well, and though they weren't as elaborate or lavish as they would have been had they been in Insomnia with access to his own Lucian currency, he felt the austerity of his designs for her were in fact more symbolic and apropos. They would be permanently fusing their minds together tonight, and such an occasion didn't call for trifles or trinkets. Besides, there was nothing on this entire planet she couldn't or hadn't already gotten for herself in her long life—except for himself. He would give her nothing more than his gratitude, his undying love, his body, and his trust that she would care for the portion of himself he was giving her—just as she was doing for him.

She pulled back from him and stared up into his eyes with wonder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Yes. Those hold more value to me than anything in all the universes." She spread her fingers wide over his cheeks, running her thumbs back and forth along his jawline, and he closed his eyes in contentment. "I'd ask you if you're certain, but I already know the answer. Before we go, I just want to remind you that you can delay or stop this still, if you want, and I'll still be here—loving you."

He gazed down at her sapphire eyes for a moment, still incredulous that this was happening to him. He'd been holding out for someone extraordinary, and when he'd finally found her, she'd been too extraordinary for him to pursue—until he'd decided to try regardless, until she'd convinced him that she found him just as extraordinary. But it was still difficult to believe, sometimes.

"I don't want to wait any longer."

Her eyes glittered with exhilaration as she whispered in barely contained gaiety, "Then the waiting is over, love. Run!"

He had a flash of déjà vu as she pirouetted and bounded off up the hill toward the lighthouse—a white skirt billowing in the breeze and catching the light of the moon instead of red, and he didn't bother to suppress his smile at her love of theatrics. Determined to keep up with her this time, he leapt off the porch and sprinted after her. When he'd pulled level with her, she reached out, grabbing for his hand and coiling her mind around his. Her joy and light only fed his own as they connected, and he found himself laughing aloud—full, unrestrained, and unashamed.

As the elevator doors of the lighthouse closed behind them, he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his hips, exploring her mouth as they swayed together with the movement of their ascension. She stopped him when they got off to seal the elevator controls before indicating he follow the deck around to the left.

"You'll want to put me down for this part," she said before pressing her lips just in front of his ear, and he reluctantly complied as she led him by the hand to the rail.

"Oh, my word," he gasped. "It's breathtaking."

All his thoughts seemed to cease as he took in the view. The three-quarter moon was bright enough to reflect off the ocean that seemed to stretch on forever, almost to the point where he could see the subtle curve of the planet. The twisted form of the Rock of Ravatogh rose high above the black shoreline, releasing its endless plume of smoke and soot into the air. As they walked around the edge of the lighthouse, he could even make out the dark, curling shadow of Angelgard in the distance. And that humbling sky—with that deep, velvety sapphire that reminded him of her eyes—littered with stars that sparkled like a canvas of diamond dust as bright white clouds floated lazily by, offering teasing glances here and there.

What seemed to be all of Eos was laid at their feet, and it was just another reminder of why he'd chosen her, as he would likely have been too preoccupied with other matters to even think to come up here himself.

"Is this all right?" she asked nervously, gesturing to the nook of cushions and blankets on the walkway up against the side of the lighthouse, which he hadn't noticed until then. "I know it's not the best angle for the view, but it's protected from the wind, and no one on land should be able to see us."

He silenced her with his lips. It's perfect.

They undressed each other slowly, reverently, taking the time to press lips and tongues against warm skin with each new body part revealed. Having been thoroughly reassured these past weeks that she found everything about his body exquisite, he found he was no longer in the least bit timid when he was bared to her, but he still appreciated that hunger in her expression when she looked at him—the way her fingers would pause over his chest, his hipbones, his fingers, or even a particular pattern of freckles on his shoulder as her mind filled with admiration. When he'd first dared to imagine they could be together, he'd never expected to be on the receiving end of her worship, and by the gods he couldn't get enough of how much her every touch seemed to set him ablaze.

Though he'd done his best to return his appreciation in their furtive meetings, it had been this night he'd been waiting for. Ignis had discovered recently that this form of self-expression, even rushed as it so often was, was the epitome of his identity. She had stripped him of everything he thought he was: logic, courtesy, decorum, subservience—even the less-often revealed traits he was aware of, such as sarcasm, that appalling streak of insolence, and even that whispering of ruthlessness—to reveal that this blessed release of love, affection, caring, and tenderness was what he was made for. He wanted desperately to use his body as a tool to express this feeling that was making his heart race and his lungs ache for air—to make her feel it physically as well as in her mind.

"If you could turn over for me, please," he murmured once they'd settled into the pallet of cushions. "I want to explore you."

She shot him a mischievous smile but complied. "Suppose it's a good thing I love it when you boss me around."

"It does appear to be a rather persistent habit," he replied, deciding to start with her feet and work his way up.

He'd had so little opportunity to explore the back of her, and as he kneeled over her legs, running his palms over her glowing skin, he couldn't help but see her every contour as man's creative expression of the perfect being. He took his time, slowly cataloging every spot that made her breath catch or her sex clench with want. With each discovery, he would follow up with his lips and tongue, just to hear that caught breath transform into a gasp and that clench become a surge of warmth. They were both quiet for what seemed like hours as he worked, her breath and mind the center of his world over everything else, even the crashing waves or the wind caressing their skin.

For the love of the Astrals, Rose, he whispered, sweeping her hair aside, sucking on the back of her neck, and running a hand over the curve of her buttocks. He pressed himself against her stroking fingers in an attempt to find some relief for that aching heaviness between his legs that rushed over him every time he breathed in a lungful of her scent. You are the living embodiment of poetry, the reason why man was inspired to put paint to canvas, pen to paper, hands to instruments.

"Ignis, please," she pleaded. "I need to touch you, too."

Gently guiding her shoulder so she shifted to her back, he grinned cheekily at her needy expression. "I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with what you can reach tonight. You promised me."

"Catch me doing that again," she said with a tongue-touched smile, and he leaned in to suck it from the tip of her teeth—as he'd been wanting to do since he first time he'd seen it but wouldn't admit to himself.

He repeated the process of ghosting his fingertips and mouth over her sensitive skin and quivering muscles, waiting until the very end of his exploration to slide his hands over the soft swell of her breasts and graze his teeth and tongue over her nipples. At this first touch to a more provocative area, she arched into his mouth and gripped the skin at the back of his neck with a soft but desperate hand.

"Oh, bloody hell, Ignis," she gasped.

He was surprised at the wave of arousal that crashed through her and washed over him when he finally teased her with the first touch of the very tips of his fingers against her sex, almost forcing him to grind hard against her hip with a groan of need; the time he'd spent on her had apparently worked her to a near frenzy, and it was beginning to affect him as well.

It was a victorious, powerful feeling—reducing her to nearly incoherent moans of his name and insistent but gentle scrapes of her nails against his scalp as he lapped at her dripping heat, stroking her from the inside until she came around his fingers—like bringing a goddess to her knees. But the tides reversed on him when he settled into her side and she fell on him, frantically kissing his mouth, his face, his throat, and his chest as the pads of her fingers teased up the V of his hips and between the subtle contours of his abdominal muscles in a way that was just on the verge of tickling him, setting his teeth pleasantly on edge.

I cannot thank you enough for loving me, Ignis—for wanting me, for letting me keep you.

"Oh gods, Rose," he panted, arching into the hand that had just grasped him tightly, starving for more of her touch. "I assure you the pleasure is entirely mine."

"Mmm it's about to be," she said in a warm, thick voice as she tugged at his wrist to roll him over her.

Parting her sex with his head, he sunk into her slowly, savoring in her delicious pool of heat that made him shiver against the temperature contrast of the cool breeze tickling at the hair on his thighs, arms, and chest. Oh Astrals, this should be a sin, to enjoy the warmth of another body so much, to love someone so completely, to be able to lay oneself completely naked literally and figuratively and bask in it together. He would never know another being as thoroughly as he would know her body, mind, and spirit, and after tonight, he would never again have to know the feeling of her leaving his side.

Lowering his forehead to rest against hers as he moved in her, he gritted his teeth against that tingling, coiling feedback loop they shared. These moments were always bittersweet for him—the pleasure marred by the prospect of having to part again, but even though they still had the rest of the night to bond, he still found he wanted this moment to last as long as it could. She wasn't helping him hold out though, with her breath coming in shallow gasps against his lips, her skin sliding against his with each thrust, and the sensation of her growing rigid around his length.

"Ignis," she whimpered, and it was enough to break his heart, to break him. Pressing his lips to her hairline, he pushed in as far as he could, spilling his seed into her body and allowing a full-throated groan of her name to tear from him and be lost in the sound of waves crashing against rock. Her fingers curled around his biceps as she clenched in time with his pulses. As always when they had the opportunity to savor one another, she held him there inside her for a time, stroking his hair and shoulders as he peppered kisses over her face.

It wasn't until they had dressed in their pajamas and rejoined each other on the cushions that she straddled his hips, taking his head between her hands and his lips between hers.

Are you ready?

I am, but there's something I need to say first.

Her thumbs stilled over his cheekbones as she pulled back to look at him.

Rose Tyler, he said, attempting to sear the memory of her wondrous expression in his mind forever, I love you.

Her expression grew heartbreakingly tender as she smiled down at him.

A Ithīr Ingolë, inye tye méla oialë, she responded in kind, and he could feel the truth and power behind her declaration in his heart. She would love him forever. And just as he would take care of her for the rest of his life, she would do the same for him.

Once he'd nodded his assent, she lowered her forehead to his, and he closed his eyes. Ever so slowly, he could feel their tenuous connection growing heavier in his mind, growing solid as it manifested into a thread of sparkling gold just above and behind his back teeth. Once he could see it in his mind, he tentatively reached for it, leaving his own head for the first time since he'd died and attempting to create his own thread in her mind, leaving a piece of himself behind with her help. Once his deep burgundy was established, he could feel her building the bridge, finally connecting them completely.

Ignis had spent his entire life in Insomnia. He knew all its streets, secret corners, the best routes home, and his favorite little noodle and book shop on the corner near his apartment. The first time he'd left home and went beyond the Wall was in the Regalia with four friends that had now become his family. Driving over that bridge for the first time, he'd realized the vast expanse of the world around him—its wild beauty, the unknown waiting to be explored. He had lost the protection of the Wall but gained something thrilling in exchange. He'd felt fear and wonder in equal measure as the size of his world expanded to the seemingly infinite.

This was how he felt as he crossed the bridge from his mind to Rose's for the first time.

But her mind was a maelstrom.

He'd been warned that her every barrier, everything that she was, that she protected him from each time they connected would be released into his mind for a split second this very first time. But what he hadn't been prepared for was that that moment would seem to last an eternity. She'd been right; feeling the turn of the planet hadn't been simply pretty words, but what she'd neglected to mention was that she could feel the spin of the entire universe on its axis—stars colliding, birthing, dying only to be reborn again. And the thread of each universe with which she was familiar joined together to create a vast, limitless tapestry of swirling, writhing colors, contrasted only by the dead space of the Void that kept them from touching. That golden power he'd only seen glimpses of seemed to set his entire being on fire. Ancient and forever, she burned at the center of time itself, where past, present, future, and every possibility of all three existed on the same plane. She was every contradiction: fire and ice, pain and pleasure, rage and love, ruthlessness and passion, death and life. He could feel the prickling points of light of the sleeping minds of everyone on the Cape, including those who had just been awakened inside her own mind.

The reality of her being continued to batter at him, threatening to overwhelm him, and when he believed he was about to lose consciousness, everything went suddenly, blissfully still. All that remained was that gentle daybreak and her undying love.

It's done. I've got you. I love you.

He opened his eyes to find her hovering over him, her hair pooling over his chest and her face and mind full of concern.

"Are you all right?"

Going still for a moment to assess himself, he realized that as the nausea from the disorientation disappeared, he felt . . . incredible. Their connection felt similar to their more tenuous one—except for the thread now lingering in his head, somehow heavier, reassuring, controlled from his side as well as hers.

"Yes, quite all right. More than all right, really. I feel . . . settled, complete."

Can you feel me with you?

Yes, he replied, reaching for that filament of sparkling gold.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes, that's me. Interesting how your mind works though. I never thought to give it a physical location like that. I imagine it makes finding it much easier."

Did you choose the color of my mind, or is it inherent? He wasn't averse to the burgundy, but he had to admit it wasn't a color he would have chosen for himself—perhaps a shining silver to entwine with her sparkling gold.

It's inherent, but I think it suits you perfectly. Red—the color of passion, power, adventure—but muted and darkened to reflect your subtlety, gentleness, sophistication, quiet thoughtfulness. You, my dearest, she said, leaning down to press her lips to his chin, are a fine wine.

Well, when you put it that way . . . I suppose I rather approve then.

He brushed his fingers through her hair as her eyes grew euphoric. "Oh! But now I have something to show you! The first of many of our most wondrous adventures, if you like."

Where you show me your memories? Most certainly, please.

He'd gotten the sense from her almost uncontainable excitement that there was more to this memory-sharing process than he'd understood. But he himself was most enthusiastic to know and learn all he could about her and would relish the experience no matter how it was presented to him.

All right. I'm going to put you to sleep. Meet me at the center of the bridge once you're under, okay?

Ignis felt his heart stir in his chest. Did she mean that he could explore her thoughts and memories as he slept? That no more would he be plagued by the constant nagging that he was wasting his time, losing hours of what was likely to be his short and inexperienced life just for the ability to recharge?

She smiled down at him, pressing her hand to his jaw. I'd like to argue against the short-lived part, but yes, essentially.

Then let us go now.

The moment he fell unconscious, he touched the gold and crossed the bridge in his mind, coming to where the glittering gold met deep burgundy.

Step on the dividing line, she said, nearly vibrating with joy. I have so many things to show you.

Looking down at his feet, which were now clad in his Crownsguard boots, he stepped on the line where gold met burgundy, and the world went white. For a moment, he was startled by the complete lack of any sensory input before he remembered that no matter what happened here, he was perfectly safe here with Rose, who blinked into existence next to him wearing her Kingsglaive uniform.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"The place where our minds meet. We can show each other anything here."

She put her hand on his shoulder and pointed to a section of white in front of him. "Here. Think of something simple—something that means a lot to you, have seen often, and know well. Picture it clearly in your mind and put it there using as many senses as you can."

As similar as her concepts of combat and telepathy were, he should have realized the technique she'd been teaching him would be used for more than fighting. Casting his mind back through his past, he tried to think of an object that met all her requirements, picturing every detail he could remember in his mind with every sense he could recall.

When it appeared before him, the image was muddied and blurry, as though it were an impressionist's painting.

"Why does it look like that?" he asked.

Laura walked around the hip-high Kettieran Maple bonsai, reaching out to run the leaves through her fingers and bending down to breathe in the scent of it.

There were very few luxuries Ignis had had time for as his responsibilities increased in Insomnia. He used to visit his little tree in the Citadel gardens every day as a child during his lunchbreaks, and as he grew older, his time spent admiring its quivering scarlet leaves and silver-white bark grew shorter and shorter until he was merely catching glimpses of it as he found excuses to take that route to his next meeting. There was something so inspiring about his little maple, how it managed to push out its delicate red leaves every spring despite being smothered by the canopy of the taller trees hovering over it. It had always appeared beautiful to Ignis, but delicate and fragile, belying the strength it so obviously had to return each year after winter.

"Your mind truly is a wonder, love," she said, tilting her head at the tree and smiling softly. "The first time I tried this, I chose that blue shed you saw in my dreams a while back. Do you remember? I figured it would be easy—just a box, right? I did such a horrible job rendering it that James thought it was a water cooler! I've seen human telepathic art in some of the most famous museums in the universes. But this . . . genius. I hope you know that, love. You're a genius."

But this wasn't what he'd wanted to create; he'd wanted to make a realistic image, not telepathic art. He waited patiently for her explanation, tips for improvement—something he could do to correct all the imperfections he saw.

"Please be honest with me. I should like to know what I've done wrong so that I may improve in the future."

Her face fell as she looked up at him. "I promise, it is very well done. But certainly you must know that even an eidetic human memory isn't perfect, especially when recalling objects from before I began teaching you. The brain saves space by glossing over what it considers unimportant, filling in the details later.

"You remembered the shape of the leaves and texture of the bark, but not exactly how many leaves and branches were on the tree. It seems to have no three-dimensional texture or smell; it's been conjured using sight alone. But you've already improved so much, even from when we left Lestallum; you know this."

Even he had to agree with her statement; the few times he had fought after their walk in Lestallum, he'd noticed it had become easier to allow the wave of information to wash over him, even if his Intuition hadn't yet been exercised to the extent to allow him to react without thought at all times. This would obviously be a skill to grow just as much as his combat.

He sighed. "I suppose I'll need to grow accustomed to not immediately mastering these tasks you set, particularly when everything we do is a brand-new concept entirely."

As much as the idea of staying in this blank realm all night and indirectly improving his combat skills appealed to him, it wasn't the reason he'd come here. He gave his tree one last appraising glance before his eyes shot to hers, narrowing in challenge.

"I want you to show me the most detailed thing you can conjure. I want to see the best you can do."

He caught a flash of her apprehension and resolve in her mind before she closed her eyes, and they were transported.

Ignis found himself suddenly standing in the middle of the living room of a cramped apartment—even smaller than his own back home. The living room, dining area, and kitchen combined were roughly the same size as the bedroom the five of them were currently sharing at the Caem house. An electric fireplace buzzed like an irksome fly underneath a sickly green and white mantle covered in picture frames, oddly-shaped vases, stray pieces of mail, loose change, and kitschy knickknacks. Someone had attempted to make the space look homey by painting half the walls yellow—clashing terribly with the faded red of the others—adding shelves and filling them with more bric-a-brac, like little jars and cat figurines, which only served to make the room seem more confining. There was far too much furniture for the tiny place as well: a television, a worn leather loveseat with two matching armchairs covered in garishly pink blankets, a glass coffee table, and a small wooden table and chairs.

Despite the tackiness of her response to his challenge, he realized that given the detail of the room and knowing the effort it took to make his tree, his attempt seemed laughable.

He turned in the little space towards where he felt her mind, the heat from the electric fire and the atmosphere of the apartment beginning to make him feel uncomfortably confined, but he froze in place when his eyes caught the figure standing behind him.

It wasn't Rose.

"Pardon me," he began, but stopped when he verified that it was Rose's mind he felt emanating from the girl leaning in the hall that led to the front door. He even recognized that look of vulnerability in her eyes that she would get when talking about her other forms. Her other forms. This must have been her human adolescent form, given her description.

Though it was terribly rude of him, he found himself instinctually shuttering his thoughts from her as he appraised her appearance. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he wouldn't have spared her a second glance had she passed him on the streets of Insomnia—with her loose-fitting pink sweatshirt and ripped jeans, makeup applied so heavily he could see chunks of mascara clinging to her eyelashes, and slightly stringy bleach-blonde hair. She had appeared as any one of a million sloppy, reckless youths he'd seen countless times roaming the streets in search of a good time.

"Rose?" he queried, stepping toward her hesitantly.

She smiled at his recognition, her wide lips pulling wider, the light in her chocolate-colored eyes seeming to light up the room. It was the same light that had completely upturned his world, and he finally saw her.

"Ignis," she murmured, and it didn't matter that her body was a complete stranger to him. He took another step forward and pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek against the top of her head, which was now at least two inches lower than it normally was. He was surprised to find that she even smelled differently—of sweet, crisp apples and fresh cut grass.

"Where are we?" he asked, pulling back from her.

"Home," she said, and even her voice sounded different—rougher and sharper. "I grew up here—London, England. You'd like it, I think. You yourself are almost ridiculously British."

He turned again to the room, the scratching of his fine fabrics and the creak of his boots as he shifted over the stained carpeting sounding odd to his ears in this place. The woman who had become Queen of her people, an accomplished warrior, and a goddess had grown up here, of all places?

"Your family was," he searched for a kinder word than the first that came to his mind, "not well off?"

"Not at all. This was government housing. My human dad, Pete, died when I was a baby. My mum, Jackie, did the best she could to support us."

Extrapolating on the appearance of the apartment, he imagined what her education must have been like, the children she spent her time with, the habits she would have had to form in order to survive in this world. It explained much about her demeanor; he hardly ever saw evidence of her regality, except perhaps in battle. She was often hasty, tactless, and quite frankly, everything His Majesty hadn't been in a diplomatic setting. But that passion and fire and wonder he'd never associated with royalty was also what he'd fallen in love with. However, what he had learned of her past thus far suggested that she had spent hundreds of years in her native universe yet only a few decades in this place, at the most. Jackie Tyler must have made quite an impact on her identity to have affected her so completely.

"She sounds as though she were an incredibly strong woman. I should've very much liked to have met the woman that raised you to become what you are."

"Would you?"

Before he could answer with any sort of incredulity, interest, or alarm, she looked to the kitchen.

The woman who emerged from the arch appeared to be in her mid-forties, with grey-blue eyes, the same heavily-applied eyeliner and mascara as Rose, and the same bleach-blonde hair. The faded jeans and violently pink t-shirt she wore were at odds with her age, but that wasn't the only thing that was odd about this mad situation. Ignis was only just recovering from finding Rose in her current state, and the fact that other people could join them here in their private space came as a bit of a shock.

"Rose! There you are, darling," the woman he assumed to be Jackie Tyler nearly sang, her voice high and shrill. "I'm gonna to be out late tonigh'. Mark's takin' me to the cinema. 'E wanted to go down the pub, but I told 'm if 'e wants ta keep seein' me, e'd better get 'is act together. Might head down ta th' shops after. You need anythin'?"

Mrs. Tyler seemed so real, so solid, as she moved around the living room, fussing with the blankets and setting a mug of tea on the coffee table, but she couldn't be. Could she? It was one thing to conjure an apartment from memory, but a person? Perhaps this was merely a recording of a memory.

"'Ere, who's this then?" Mrs. Tyler asked, stopping to stare at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

So much for that theory. Though he had no idea how Rose had managed such a feat, he could hardly stand there and gape at a woman he'd never met but still greatly admired, despite their disparate stations in life.

He collected himself and bowed in respect. "Ignis Scientia, at your service madam."

Mrs. Tyler looked to Rose, who was smiling widely, the tip of her tongue touching her teeth.

"'E your boyfriend then?" Mrs. Tyler asked, and Rose nodded, still smiling.

When her eyes returned to him, they seemed to harden, and though Ignis hadn't ever seen that expression on a woman's face on his behalf, he still recognized that deadly protectiveness of motherhood. This woman may have been uneducated and poor, but that didn't make her dim or harmless. In fact, Ignis found her quite the opposite as she glared at him.

"An' what d'ya do for a livin' then? D'ya make enough money ta support my lit'le girl? Those clothes seem posh enough," she said, taking in his Crownsguard uniform with a shrewd eye.

Wishing to make a good first impression, he replied, "I serve as Chamberlain to the Crown Prince of Lucis, madam."

"Ooooh, Rose, he is rather posh, ain't 'e?" she cooed before glaring over at Rose. "Mind you, don' you dare start gettin' airs and graces," she said sternly, pointing a finger at Rose's chest. "You 'member where ya come from, ya hear?"

Her voice was cheerful and shrill again when she turned back to him. "Well! Lemme see you! Turn 'round!"

Not willing to wait for him to comply, Mrs. Tyler reached up and grasped his shoulder, turning him slowly in a circle. He caught sight of Rose as his back was turned; she was leaning against the arch leading to the hall, her face bright pink from holding in her mirth.

"Aww, shame about the bum on this one, Rose," he heard her say, and his eyes widened in horror.

Rose seemed to snort and choke at the same time, a hand going to her forehead before she muttered, "Oh my god." In a louder, sharper voice, she said, "Oi! This ain't 'bout your tastes. You leave 'im alone!"

Sorry, love. She can be a bit . . . Jackie. You know I find your bum lovely.

What the blazes is going on?!

But Mrs. Tyler had spun him full circle, grabbing him by the chin and pulling him down to place a full, wet smack directly on his lips. "You'd bet'er take care of 'er, or I'll 'ave you!" she threatened with a finger pointed in his face.

He skittered to Rose's side, having had quite enough of being manhandled.

"I beg your pardon," he said as smoothly as he could manage, though he couldn't see why he was the one apologizing. By the time he had finished saying the words, however, the woman had vanished.

"Oh. My. Gods," Rose laughed uproariously, hanging off his shoulders and burying her face into his chest. "I'm so sorry. But if you had met her in real life, she would have been exactly like that."

Attempting to calm his racing heart and somewhat injured sensibilities, he said as calmly as he could, "So she wasn't real, then."

Rose pulled back enough to look up at him. "It's complicated. She traveled with the Doctor, just once. I . . . sort of have access to the brain patterns of anyone who's been on the Doctor's ship. I created her image and allowed her to act of her own accord, but she was never alive in the true sense, no."

"While I am honored to have met her, I do wish she hadn't kissed me," he said stiffly.

"You should feel fortunate. She slapped the Doctor the first time she met him officially, but he deserved it. Brought me home twelve months after I left with him instead of twelve hours," she said with a wistful smile. "You'd never do that, so she obviously would have loved you."

"I recognize much of her in you—your strength, your formidable will, even your accent, sometimes."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "My accent? It's true I had a Cockney accent when I was young, but I don't think I still do."

"You mean you haven't noticed? We all thought the switch was deliberate—another persona of yours. It seems every time you liaise with the local townspeople or when you remember things sometimes, your accent changes almost immediately."

"I hadn't noticed, no. Though I do suppose it is a persona, of sorts—just one of me. Rose is probably one of the most real personas I have."

"And I'm honored to meet her as well," he said gently, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face. He wanted to lean down to kiss her, to thank her for showing him this, but he found he simply couldn't. It felt too much like being unfaithful to his Rose, his Laura. He settled for gently pressing his lips to her forehead instead.

"It's all right," she said soothingly into his chest. "The multiple bodies thing—I've been there and know how it is. Takes time to adjust. The Doctor did the same thing to me, but he didn't tell me beforehand."

"I should like to meet him too, if that's possible. And those you share a low bond with. Everyone who has ever meant anything to you—anyone you're willing to share."

"Really? You would want to meet a man I was once married to?" she asked incredulously.

"Our past forms the foundation of our present. We mustn't forget that which made us what we are today, and he obviously played a significant part of who you became."

She seemed to study him for a moment, searching his eyes, and he opened his mind to her, allowing her to see that he truly wished for nothing more than to grow closer to her by learning more about what had made her who she was.

Her expression softened before she said, "All right, but not tonight. It's almost dawn back in Caem. Why don't we visit somewhere you want to see for a bit before waking? Somewhere I've been in Lucis?"

There was really only once place in all this world that Ignis wished to see again—had wanted to see since he'd spent those two days trapped in the Royal Library.

"I should very much like to see the Crown City again, but I don't suppose that you were there long enough t—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself standing at the top of the observation deck a couple of blocks from the Citadel, and his heart clenched at seeing the familiar skyline restored to its former glory. He recognized every magnificent skyscraper, the likes of which he had seen nowhere else in his travels thus far, as the light of the afternoon sun bounced and refracted off the seemingly infinite glass windows. That terrible traffic, with its constant roaring soundtrack of horns blaring, engines sputtering, and the stench of heavy smog and engine fuel billowing, was just as he remembered it. From where they stood, he could just make out the main square—with its graceful statue of an angel standing proudly in the middle, juxtaposed by the gaudy television screens above her head and hanging from the sides of nearby buildings, advertising everything from fried chicken available twenty-four hours a day to the newest Libraphone. As he leaned over the glass railing, he could even see tiny dots of people moving along the congested sidewalk below.

By the gods, he was home, as though nothing had ever happened, as though he could take the elevator downstairs, walk the few blocks to the Citadel, unlock his office, and go right back to his old life. And he hated himself for a moment for the flash of dread that shot through him at the prospect. Not prepared to deal with the implications of these feelings, he focused instead on the wonder of it.

"How is this possible? You can't have been in Insomnia for more than a couple of days before you left and yet, the detail of the place. I can see my apartment from here. Rose! I can see the plant in my apartment window from here. Is this how you remember your entire life?"

She stepped up to the railing next him, looking out over the city. "Yes. It's a blessing and a curse, as I remember every horrible thing with just as much clarity. But for you? It'll only ever be a blessing. We can walk in any memory I have."

He sucked in a deep breath of the thick air of his home, his mind only beginning to grasp at the implication of her words, when she continued, "The sum of my experience and my knowledge is at your complete disposal. Every book I've ever read, every museum, show, lecture, or restaurant I've ever been to, some of the very best the multiverse has to offer, is now yours. We can go to any planet, see any celestial event, take any class as you sleep at night. Or we could lounge around on a couch somewhere and stare at a fireplace; it's up to you."

"Rose," he gasped.

"From here, each night, I can show you the multiverse, piece by piece, if you want."

The first two decades of his life had been spent mostly indoors with his nose in a book, laptop, or report, but the deepest recesses of his mind had always dared to dream of a life of exploration, a life of learning through experience. He had always thrust those images out of his mind as soon as they'd surfaced, for what was the point? He would always be an Advisor to the King underneath this dome, and he should've been grateful he'd been given as much as he had in this life. In a way, even out here beyond the Wall, his locale and how he spent his time were not of his own choosing.

But what she was proposing would increase his life lived by nearly a third, a life spent solely with her on grander adventures than any human could ever experience on his planet, with the added benefit of their every activity being his choice and there being no true danger. He could live the life he'd never dared dream of and still wake up in the morning to prepare breakfast before facing the monsters and the fate that awaited them.

He recalled that day in Galdin, when she'd all but begged him to eschew her royal title for her given name, and he'd wondered who he would become in order to keep her.

This was who he would become, and he found he couldn't wait to begin.