A/N:

Summary: Narvin receives an order from Rassilon ... Team TARDIS deal with two Braxiatels.

Notes: This was a chapter I absolutely struggled with. I simply couldn't get it to work right AT ALL! Then 2020 decided to play games with me, and the energy I had got zapped as I sorted that mess out.

Should have had this finished and posted yesterday, but we got hit with a massive, massive, short and violent sudden storm that wiped out my power, my internet, my cellular reception and data, my trees, my neighbours trees, flooded the city ... broke my brand new patio umbrella. (very upset by that)... so yesterday was out... hufff.

So anyhoo, it really hurt my flow and made this very difficult to get back into. But I am back, and I'm ready to keep at it. I have a challenge (long overdue) that I should get into tomorrow... fun and fluff.

Anyhoo, I really sinceriously hope you enjoy.

~~oooOOOOooo~~

Rassilon inhaled a long gasp and staggered backward as though released from the firm hold on another. His hand was still held upward in a chokehold position, his hand still taut. He didn't let it drop but turned his head toward his shoulder as he spoke to the man standing silently behind him.

"What happened?" he demanded harshly. "The human was in my hand, where is she?"

"Connection was lost," Narvin answered rather coolly. "It would seem that the projection point was damaged in some way – possibly during whatever incident destroyed that building –"

"I heard a staser blast," Rassilon interrupted angrily. He let his hand fall and spun to glare toward him. "The connection was forcibly terminated – by a Gallifreyan weapon."

"It may well have been," he admitted without the shrug and rolling eyes that would typically accompany the tone of voice he used. "Out of my control, I am sure you will understand."

"Who was he?" Rassilon growled. "Who was that man?"

"I'm not quite sure how you would expect me to be any wiser toward his identity than you are," he answered smoothly. "Though I will suspect it is most likely another human."

"Time Lord," he corrected sharply. "He carried a staser."

"Easy enough to procure when you walk alongside Braxiatel," Narvin mused with a light one-sided smirk. "It isn't out of the realm of possibility that the other humans are capable of using one. I know it as fact that the Savage one knows how to use a staser. Taught by her mate as is my understanding. And wherever she is, Andred isn't too far away."

"Are you suggesting that it could have been Andred who intervened?" Rassilon breathed out with darkness in his tone. "Has he become treasonous as well as the rest of them?"

"That was definitely not Andred," Narvin said with a snort. "Not dressed like that at any rate. And unless he's regenerated since I saw him last, his incarnation was a little … larger … than the man we saw."

"Then who?"

Narvin lifted his eyes to the towering form of Rassilon. His own expression was one of forced neutrality. Best he shield the disdain he felt toward the Lord President inside him for now. "While I am flattered that you seem to hold such high regard in my skills of observation and deduction; I do have to admit that I really don't know who it was. A split-second glimpse of a generic looking individual really doesn't yield all that much – even to me."

"You will find out," Rassilon ordered him with a sneer. "I want him found, and I want him brought to me. Alive, and in one piece so that I can apply consequences myself."

"Easier said than done," he murmured under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"As you wish, My Lord President," Narvin replied with a bow in his head. "I will get onto it immediately."

"See that you do," he warned him on a low and hostile voice. "You have two days to bring me the information I require…"

"And if I'm not able to present you with the information you require?"

"Defy me and find out," he answered with a flourish in the roll of his shoulders as he turned to leave the office. He spoke to Narvin over his shoulder, rather than turn to face him with respect. "I look forward to learning about what you find…"

"I'm sure you do," he huffed out through his nose as the door whoofed closed behind the Time Lord President. His eyes narrowed upon the closed door to his office. "Braxiatel, you insufferable pig-rat. If he doesn't kill you, you can bet I'll be the one to do it."

He strode around his desk and slapped a dimly-lit panel on the wooden surface with the backs of his fingers. A holographic screen popped up with a slow warm to full display. While he waited for the connection to the CIA servers to connect properly, he pulled open a draw beside his hip and drew out a thick leather strap with a wide rounded device attached to it. He let his eyes shift to the holographic display as he fastened it onto his left wrist. He then drummed his fingers on the desk as the small spinning circle at the centre of his screen finale disappeared to indicate full access had been achieved.

"Now," he murmured to himself as his fingers sped across the laser projection keyboard and he watched the monitor in front of him flash, flicker, and scroll into the deepest depths of the barrel of information he was searching for. A small flicker in the corner of the screen caught his eye and he smirked somewhat proudly to himself as he touched his finger to it and swept it with a flourish to expand it fully on his screen.

"Found you."

He typed the long code of temporal coordinates into the face of his device, then leaned forward to garbage the information on his system. A quick series of keystrokes, and he quickly removed any possible signature or footprint that he could leave behind him.

"Oh-kay," he breathed with apprehension and a indecision. He really didn't want to do this. Travelling by Vortex Manipulator was so horribly rudimentary and primitive … and really quite disorientating. "I hate you, Braxiatel," he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and pressed the face of the device.

Immediately he felt his stomach do a full whoop as his mind swam, swelled, and swirled with the full force of the Time Vortex buffeting him from every single possible angle. He grit his teeth and counted off the seconds until he felt the sucking sensation of vortex travel finally release to spit him out into his new reality.

His eyes flew open and he staggered with disorientation and blurred vision inside a large room adorned with wooden walls and décor lit by bright orange lighting.

"Oh, by the Gods," he moaned to himself as he pressed a hand into a support beam close to the room's centre and leaned forward. "There is nothing at all pleasant about that."

Andred's voice piped up with slight amusement at his side. "Vortex Manipulator, Narvin? Trying to cut back on operational costs at the CIA?"

There was a retort to that in his still swirling mind, and he did open his mouth to apply that retort, but he quickly slammed his lips closed and held them together with the bite of his teeth as his stomach churned in warning. His eyes widened, his cheeks puffed out, and he held up a finger to ask a moment as he searched urgently for a receptacle.

"Beside the desk," Andred advised with a light sigh of understanding. "Should do for what you need."

Narvin nodded and quickly fled toward the desk in question. He stooped to scoop up the lined trash bin and slammed it on top of the desk. His arms curled tightly around the top and he loudly heaved the entire contents of his stomach atop waste paper and an empty, crumpled, aluminium can. Once the last shudders of retching had finally ebbed away, he shoved the wastebasket forward along the desk and pressed both hands into the tabletop. He moaned with discomfort as he slouched in his forward lean.

"Give it a minute," Andred advised. "You'll be fine."

Narvin nodded slowly, steadied his breathing, then sounded out the most polite of burps behind the palm of his hand. "Disgusting."

A bottle of water was thrust underneath his nose, which he accepted with a nod of thanks. Obviously not a brand-new bottle, considering there was only about a third of the contents remaining, but he did down it quickly, then tossed the empty bottle into the trash basket. He exhaled as he finally straightened himself to his full height and took a proper look around him.

"Braxiatel's capsule?" he questioned with a knowing smirk. "Good. Still able to bypass his sneaky .." His words halted to see Romana seated in a despondent lean on the floor, her back propped up against the centre console. He spoke her name with alarm and strode quickly toward her. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with sodden eyes. Complete anguish had contorted her usually perfect features into a pathway of red blotchy lines and patches. She slowly shook her head. "He's gone, Narvin. Brax. He's dead."

He dropped into a crouch before her. His expression was one that conveyed true empathy, but the shake in his head was more apt toward chiding. "Are you quite sure of that, Romana?"

She held her hand in a fist between her breasts. "I feel it here," she said with a croak in her voice. "The pain of it."

He hummed and lifted his eyes for her forehead. He lifted a hand and tapped at her temple with a fingertip. "And in here, do you feel the same?" His brow lifted with facetious condescension. "I'll hazard a guess that you don't, considering Braxiatel is still as far from death as any of us." He paused and lifted his eyes. "Got more lives per incarnation than a cat, that one."

He pulled himself up to a stand and wandered around the console to familiarise himself with the controls. "I'll guess that the Doctor's TARDIS is on scene with the rest of them."

Romana held a white wolf cub against her chest, that was gnawing happily on the lapel of her jacket and rose to a stand. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes, his TARDIS is on the ground."

"I'll pilot this ship to that location then," he said with a sigh. His eyes shifted to the pup against Romana's chest. "Does Braxiatel know you have an animal on his ship?"

"How can you pilot his ship?" Romana asked. "Not even I can set materialisation and dematerialisation coordinates and hope she listens."

"The same way I knew how to locate him," Narvin answered without looking at her. His focus was more on pairing the ship with the other capsule for a seamless flight. "And no, I won't tell you how."

He flipped up a lever and looked to the rotor column as he slowly began to pulse and whine. "That's a good girl," he said with a light smile of urging. "Take us to your pilot." He looked again to the pup. "What kind of Earth animal have you managed to adopt? You know that it can't be taken to Gallifrey, right? Quarantine rules on off-world fauna are among most prescriptive laws in the entire galaxy."

"It's a young Dahrama," She answered him with a scratch at the pup's ears.

He pulled back fast from the console edge, not sure if he should run away with a scream or look upon the animal with awe. "It can't be," he managed out. "They … They're extinct. The entire species was wiped out in the war." He looked to Romana with a light pinch of urgency in his eyes. "If that is truly a Dahrama, then that animal needs to be returned to Gallifrey and protected."

"I doubt very much that his parents will allow that," she said with a weak smile. Her eyes shifted to the door as the capsule announced full materialisation with a light huff. "They're probably already concerned that he was in flight without them. Soliarn is particularly aggressive when he think's his offspring is in any form of danger or duress."

He looked to the door and slumped just slightly. "Oh, don't tell me there'll be a pair of those damn things waiting at the doors." His expression was so tightly drawn that his skin practically whined. "From the frying pan and into the fire every single time…"

~~ooooOOOOooo~~

Leela, Rose, and the Doctor had remained in relative silence for a long while after the Doctor had admitted that Braxiatel existed twice in this current timeline. Each of them held their own very unique internal reaction to the news and were trying to work through it.

Rose was thrilled; it meant that Brax was alive, that he wasn't lost to the forests to walk as a Brambie .. or a Zorax .. or any other combination of Brax and Zombie that might have made her chuckle if it was anyone else except her brother in law.

Leela was of two and three minds to it. She wasn't upset. She wasn't thrilled. She was confused, of course; but she was also quietly relieved. Guilt held position deep within the back of her mind. She'd almost killed him. Had Rose not fought so hard to save him, then Braxiatel would have died by her blades … one in each heart and no hope at all for regeneration.

For the Doctor, the admission was just … tiring. His relationship with his brother was a rollercoaster of such intense highs, lows, twists, and turns that it would be a ride condemned on any planet across the universe. Would it just be simpler for the both of them if they returned to the out of sight and mind relationship they'd quite happily settled into for most of their lives? One look at the smile on Rose's face, though, and he knew they couldn't. Rose loved the old boy as much as she loved anyone. She'd be heartbroken if they went their separate ways. Best that he invest in stocks of Gravol if he was to survive whatever their future had to offer them…

There was a groaning sound, the rustle of fallen leaves, the crack of twigs, and the Doctor quickly jogged around Rose to take up a protective position beside Leela. He held his sonic screwdriver out with a full extension of his arm. His head dropped into a glare of aggression down along the length of his arm.

"I will handle what it is that comes, Doctor," Leela suggested with a tone that warned him to back off a good few feet and let her take on the challenge.

"We both will," he corrected her.

"My blade will do more in our defence than the whirr of your screwdriver," she remarked with a light smirk. "But if it will make you feel better to stand in the defence of your wife, then I will not stand in your way."

"Of course you will," he replied with a light smirk. "I would expect no less."

They both stood on guard ready to make their stand as a hand curled around the split in the wall. It was clear to both Leela and the Doctor that this hand didn't belong to a zombie; there was far too much colour and life in it. To the other side of the crack another hand appeared to clutch with effort at the jagged concrete.

"You really need to lay off the pie," a voice grumbled out with obvious annoyance. "Really, Irving, you weigh far too much for someone of your stature." There was a grunt. "Here's an idea: How about you at least try to bear some of your own weight instead of relying on me to tolerate your burden."

"Perhaps you should pull a few more weights instead," he snarked in reply. "And I think you can afford me a little consideration and understanding considering I went through an extremely painful and explosive regeneration – only to find you waiting on the other of it rather than anyone I actually care about."

"Excuses, excuses."

Leela sighed deeply and holstered her knives. She looked toward the Doctor with the lightest expression of disappointment in her eyes. "It is only Braxiatel." Her brows pinched. "I mean the two of them."

The Doctor didn't lower his sonic. He kept his aim tight. His eyes narrowed further with aim as the pair of Braxiatel's finally emerged through the crack in the wall. The elder of the two supported the weakened man with an arm around his waist as he navigated them over the debris to find a clearing that would allow him to stand on his own two feet. He lifted his eyes to the Doctor and his sonic as he passed by.

"Really, Thete?" He huffed. "Put that thing away. You look like an idiot."

"He really doesn't need it to look like one," the younger man said with a sigh. "It's pretty much his default setting." His eyes widened with horror and he let out a sudden and almost terrified swear in ancient High Gallifreyan when he heard his name called out with teary excitement. He waved a hand urgently toward her. "Rose. No! I can't support…"

He oomphed at the collision of Rose against his chest and staggered backward a good three strides in an attempt not to fall on his arse completely. The wall against his back helped with that, and he pushed back hard on it to try and maintain some form of dignity while a tiny blonde woman sobbed into his chest. He looked to his brother for assistance.

"I just can't," he admitted meekly.

The Doctor nodded and finally dropped the arm that held his sonic high. He exhaled and closed the short distance between himself and his wife. "Rose," he said with soft firmness as he took hold of her arms to pull her back. "Come here. Give him some air, Brax is still weak from regenerating."

"Not to mention his body trying to burn out a huon injection," the elder Braxiatel said with a light shrug. "Diluted dosage though it was, it still packs a punch." He held open his arms to Rose with a smile. "Though I'm here if you want…"

Rose held up her hand and shook her head. She leaned against the chest of the Doctor and let out a sigh. "Really. You guys are just tiring, you know that?"

"I do indeed," the elder Braxiatel admitted with a long sigh and a lift of his eyes to the night sky above. He let his arms fall to his sides. "This past 24 hours have been quite something for you, haven't they Rose?"

"Little bit."

He let his eyes fall down to hers. "Don't worry, it all comes to an end very shortly; and you can begin yet another day of mischief and mayhem and mortal danger for all." He held up his hand very quickly. "Now, that isn't to say that I know for sure that any such mischief and mayhem will occur any time soon. My memories of today are – for very obvious reasons – a little hazy."

"Then it might be smart of you to shut up, then," the Doctor warned. "Might'n it?"

"Says he of the endless gob," he drawled flatly in reply.

The Doctor gave him a very small smirk in reply. "So. Now that you've done what you came here to do, I expect you'll be leaving then? I'm sure that I don't need to tell you of the potential ramifications of having more than one of you here in this timeline."

Both of the Braxiatels gave a snort at that, but it was the elder one who chose to comment. "I've been successfully spending time with additional incarnations of myself for centuries, Thete. Haven't had a major disaster yet."

"That does not mean that it will not happen," Leela warned him. "Like the Doctor, I am not comfortable with more than one of you here, Braxiatel. I am sure that Romana will feel the same."

The sound of a materialising capsule echoed through the alcove, which made the elder Braxiatel let out a sigh. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" He turned to face the capsule as it materialised within scowling distance. "Speak of the Devil…"

"I will not tell Romana that you refer to her as the Devil," Leela said with a light huff in her voice. She strode toward the capsule as the materialisation completed. "I think that you are in enough trouble."

"You have no idea," the Elder Braxiatel muttered on a low voice. He took a long stride backward to put himself outside of where he assumed would be the peripheral of his wife. His eyes flicked to his younger self. "Brace yourself, Irving…"

"Incandescent?" he asked with an upward lift of his eyes.

"Only slightly less than that if I recall correctly." He exhaled apologetically. "Fear-driven, I'm afraid, which makes it so much worse for you."

"Brilliant," he managed out as he tried his best to stand up straight and stable. Best he put on his most towering posture to help get him through this one. He rolled his head on his neck and shifted the seat of his shoulders, his eyes tight on the opening of his capsule doors. He didn't need to guess just which of the occupants would exit first – protocol dictated that in the absence of Chancellery Guards it would be Romana. While not currently President, all of them behaved as though she still held the highest office on the planet. Andred couldn't provide a buffer, he would remain at the capsule doors a polite few seconds behind her.

Romana did, indeed, exit the capsule ahead of Andred. Her posture was high and proud, and Braxiatel could feel the sizzle of anger from her over the handful of metres that separated them. She let her eyes graze across the area in analysis as to whether or not there was any immediate danger. Once assured she would be safe, she let her eyes drag angrily across the grouping to finally land on her husband.

"Braxiatel," she said with a furious growl in her voice. She didn't immediately move to approach him, instead she seemed to wait for him to acknowledge her first.

Braxiatel refused to display the same level of heated aggression he could see in her eyes, so instead he opted to brighten wide a smile and call to her with exaggerated happiness in his tone. "Romana!" he ignored the face-palming moan from his brother and opened up his arms in presentation of his new form. "How do you like the new me?"

That got her moving. With her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, she stalked toward him. There was a light forward lean of her chest and a scowl that was contorting her usually beautiful features. Her look of hostility didn't fade the closer she got to him, if anything it seemed to deepen.

"Irving Braxiatel," she seethed through her teeth. "You infuriating, insufferable, exasperating, intolerable…"

"You're doubling up on your synonyms," he ventured calmly with a lift in his brow, looking down to her as she met him chest to chest.

"That would be because there are insufficient words in any language to effectively describe how incensed you make me on an almost hourly basis," she shot back with an expression of furious incredulity. "And as usual, you refuse to acknowledge or take any responsibility for what you did that causes so much upset."

"I scared you," he remarked on a calm tone. "I'm not refusing to acknowledge that."

"When you keep doing it," she argued hotly. "You're not only refusing to acknowledge it, but you're being deliberately ignorant to it." If she was any other person, she may have clenched her fists tightly and even stomped a foot with frustration. Instead she snatched her hands forward to clutch a hard handful of his fatigue tunic. She spoke through her teeth at him. "I thought you were dead, Irving. I thought I had lost you – for good this time."

"That will never happen," he vowed fiercely with a snap of his arm around her back. "I vowed to you that until the end of our lives we would be together, as one. That's a promise I intend to keep." His voice softened. "My hearts are in your hands, Romana. They beat only because of you … and they will beat for as long as you need them to. I'm not going anywhere."

"That's a lie and you know it," she challenged him with a crease in her brow and a waver in her voice. "You're always off somewhere, Brax."

"Then tell me to stay, Romana." He exhaled a long breath. "One word, that's all. Just one. Stay."

She curled a hand around the back of his neck and tugged his head down to touch his forehead to hers. "Stay," she demanded shortly.

"As you wish," he breathed out against her lips before claiming them in a kiss fierce enough that he lifted her completely from the ground and pulled her tightly against his chest.

"Very inappropriate and discomforting behavior from the both of you," Narvin complained darkly as he passed by. "This is hardly the time for that kind of nonsense." His head shook as he approached the elder of the two Braxiatels. He stood before him with a straight back and shoulders and gazed at him with an expression of disapproval and annoyance. "You will be the death of me."

"Oh, I do try, he answered with an exaggerated sigh and a roll in his eyes. "No such luck as yet."

"Yes, well keep trying," he droned sardonically. "I'm sure that persistence will pay off eventually."

The Doctor held his wife against his side as he walked up to join both his older-older brother and Narvin. He greeted the CIA Coordinator with a nod of his head. "Are you part of an advanced party set to converge on his area to take us all back to Gallifrey?"

"Like to see any of them try," Rose muttered under her breath, to which she received a sharp glare of warning from her husband.

Narvin let his eyes flick between the two of them and settled his attention on the Doctor. "No. I assure you that his Lord President isn't planning on sending any one over here any time soon." He paused and let a light frown cross his face. "Actually. Given his penchant for changing his mind every five nano-spans, I shouldn't really make that guarantee." He shuddered and shook his head. "No. I was tasked with determining the identity of the man who ended Rassilon's assault on Rose." He looked to Rose and then to Braxiatel. "I came by of my own accord to offer warning." He drew in a breath. "And to find out just what in the name of Omega is actually going on here."

The Doctor drew in a breath. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" He lifted his hand to scratch at his sideburn, but upon remembering he was wearing a helmet merely dropped it back down to his side and let out a huff. "We know the what of it. The why, however…" he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That's another thing entirely."

"Was he truly killing Time Lords and taking their remaining regenerations?"

"I'm afraid so," the younger Braxiatel answered. He walked into the group with an exhausted gait and his arm around the waist of his wife to help keep him standing. "Rose can offer you far more insight into how it was achieved, but I can confirm that the Dogma Virus has been employed to remove a Time Lord or Lady's remaining regenerations."

"That was never the purpose of the Dogma Virus," Narvin countered with a frown. "It was to sterilise the Time Lords and stop them from regenerating. Not to remove and capture any remaining regenerations."

"Well I suppose his Lord President gave it a bit of an upgrade, didn't he?" the younger Braxiatel seethed. He looked to his elder self. "You're awfully quiet. I know full well that it's never a good thing for any one of us to be silent for any length of time."

"Brief analysis," he answered carefully. "Determining just what I can and cannot inject into this conversation."

"Oh don't go citing spoilers at us," the Doctor answered sharply. "You're here now, and you've been here before, so to save us all a bit of time so we can get home in time to pick up our children from school and various other domesticities…"

"Time Ship," the elder Braxiatel answered shortly with a gesture toward the TARDIS. "In case you forgot. Capable of materialising in any place within time and space. Do you need a refresher, perhaps, in how to access those specific time travel functions?"

"Facetiousness really isn't necessary, nor is it in any way beneficial to the current discussion," the Doctor snipped in reply.

"No, but it makes me feel better."

"Both of you," Romana warned. "That's about enough. If we are to properly determine just what actually happened here, what Rassilon's intentions were for the capture of so many regenerations, and where we think he will go from here, then the two of you need to stop with the childish back and forth and act like a couple of adults."

"I think the more important question right now," Rose offered with a shrug. "Is where has all that energy has gone to now, and whether or not any of the zombie Time Lords out there are able to be cured like Brax was." She stood beside Leela just slightly back of the circle of Time Lords, not quite comfortable with entering the conversation, but less comfortable with remaining quiet. She looked toward the edge of the forest. "The only reason we all stepped in to begin with was because Brax didn't want the souls of the Time Lords to suffer in pain for eternity. An' more than that, I don't want any of those capsules suffering any more, either."

Narvin looked toward her. There was a light narrowing of his eyes. "Capsules?"

"Hundreds of them," she clarified with a nod. "Maybe thousands. Some of them are dead, but most of them…" She sighed and offered him a look of heartache. She tapped at her temple with her fingertip. "They're in here. They're crying and in pain."

He kept his eyes on her for a moment as he processed that new information. "You can feel that?" he mused on little more than a surprised whisper. He then looked toward Romana and the younger of the Braxiatels and gave a gesture toward Rose. "She shouldn't be able to feel that. No one except a symbiotically linked Time Lord is supposed to hear the song of a capsule." He inhaled deeply. "And she's human?"

"She's right here, Narvin," Rose chipped out shortly. "You wanna know about me, then you ask me, yeah?"

"Of course," he answered somewhat dutifully rather than politely. He kept his eyes on Romana. "We have non-linked and possibly grieving capsules here numbering into the hundreds – maybe thousands. They can't remain here. I don't need to tell you incredibly disastrous it would be if they end up in the hands of non Gallifreyans…"

"Yes, yes," Romana huffed out impatiently. "I can assure you that for now they are quite safe from non-Gallifreyan hands."

"I'll need to send a team here to log and retrieve all of them." He rubbed at the back of his head and exhaled a huff. "That will take some time."

"Not to mention a lot of risk," the younger Braxiatel murmured. "We still don't know exactly what is capturing the capsules to crashland them here in the first place. Additionally, we need to determine just where the infection is coming from."

"Not from this planet," Rose offered gently. "The Time Lords were already infected before they crash landed here."

"How do you know?" Narvin asked her with a narrowing of his eyes. "How could you possibly know that?"

"The capsules showed me," she repeated with a shrug in her shoulders. She let out a short sound of frustration and confusion. "I don't know what to tell you, Narvin. I don't. I don't understand it, but if you want to connect and see for yourself…" She pointed to her temple. "Then that's okay. I consent."

His eyes flared at the suggestion. "Oh. Err." His head shook tightly. "There's no need for that. None at all." His eyes flicked up toward the Doctor and then fell off to one side. "That's a level of intimacy I'm not entirely comfortable with."

"Never stopped you before," Andred said with a light tilt in his head and a pinch in his eye. "When you've needed information in the past."

"Well it's stopping me now," he gruffed in reply. He let his eyes fall to Rose, respectful of her earlier chiding. "If you're quite sure of what you were shown during your telepathic connection with the capsules, then I won't question it." He looked toward the elder Braxiatel. "I suspect you know the answers to all of our questions, which renders any of this moot."

A discomforted expression crossed his face. He made a slight sound from the back of his throat as he considered the question and how it best be answered. "Unfortunately, my memories of this day, and of the years following in regard to this particular situation, are quite – oh how should I put it? Incomplete."

"Of course it is," Narvin said with a light growl in his tone. "I don't know why I thought this could go any easier than it should be." His eyes flicked to the Doctor. "So you may as well take that helmet off, Doctor. Your mate suggests that the pathogen you're trying to evade doesn't originate from here…"

"But it is here," he argued lightly. "As proven by Brax becoming a Zombie."

"Which means every single one of us is already infected," he said with a shrug. "However…" his eyes shifted toward the elder Braxiatel. "You have a cure, I see."

"One was … engineered … quite some time ago," he admitted carefully. "By means that I would prefer were discussed with Thete and my younger self at a more appropriate time." His eyes shifted toward Rose and then back to Narvin. "The procurement of the most necessary ingredients are of a rather sensitive nature."

"You mean me," Rose cut in blandly. She wasn't surprised to see the almost guilty expression pass by Braxiatel's face. "Hard not to work out, really. You told me as much in there…" she gestured toward where the tornado once was and looked him up, and then down with a light smirk. "When you were starkers. Called me the antidote and told me to make sure I told the Doctor that."

"And did you?" He gestured toward the Doctor, who was in the motions of removing his helmet. "Tell Thete what I told you to tell him?"

"Haven't quite had the chance, have I?"

"No, I suppose you haven't," he drawled on a breath. He looked toward the Doctor; his brow high on his forehead as he waited for the helmet to be dropped onto the ground before continuing. "You'll all have to make sure that you've been injected with the serum created from…" he flicked his eyes briefly toward Rose. "I mean the antidote." He inhaled. "Infected or not, it's for the best."

"And you have this antidote?" Leela asked with a light narrowing of her eye as her gaze slid past her husband toward Braxiatel. "Enough for all of you?"

"Enough for any remaining infected Time Lords on Estrail, in fact," he said with a light smile. The smile faltered and he exhaled hard. "The research to find a cure, and to minimise any of the negative side effects that come from a forced regeneration from one species to another…"

"A zombie is a species now?" Rose asked with her brows high on her forehead.

He held his breath for a slight moment, letting his mind wade through the myriad of responses he had to that question. He opted not to focus on it too much and start something that might escalate toward something unpleasant and instead looked toward Romana and his younger self.

"I've returned to this particular timeline in order to try and reverse the effects of the virus and save as many of our people as I can." He looked past Romana's shoulder toward the flash of white, which heralded the return of the two feisty beasts who had protected his younger self. He then looked toward Leela and Andred. "It would help me if the two of you could stay here and assist. I imagine it will take some considerable time to scour the forests…"

The Doctor rolled his head with discomfort against the space suit. He tugged as best he could at the tight fabric fitted around his throat. "How is the antidote administered?"

"Retro fitted stasers," he answered with a shrug. He then looked toward his younger self who looked fit to protest about why a large and painful syringe was used on him instead of a relatively painless staser shot. "One thing I won't hold on myself is a weapon," he said with a huff. "Particularly when I'm not entirely confident that it is the best method of inoculation." He pulled two packages from the pocket of his blazer. He tossed them both underhand toward Romana and the Doctor. "For the rest of you, oral medication. Twice daily for three days. Best you start to take it before the need to regenerate strikes. Thete, take note." He inhaled a long breath. "Which also means, none of you can return to the house for at least two days in your own timeline."

"It takes that long for any contagion to be suppressed by this medication," Romana mused to herself more than she did the elder version of her husband.

The elder Braxiatel gave her a cheeky wink. "So in the meantime…"

"The meantime is none of your business," she growled in reply with a hard look toward him. "Despite you being the later incarnation of my husband. Certain lines of time can be changed with you none the wiser to it."

"Indeed."

Rose hooked her hair behind her ear. "So I suppose this means we all stick around here and help you with rounding up the zombies?"

"Would much rather you didn't," he admitted with a light one-sided smirk. "As much as I do enjoy our time together, Rose – and you know that I do - this time I will ask that you …" he looked to his brother. "That you spend some much-needed time alone with Thete." He looked back to her. "I think you both need a respite. Particularly with what's coming."

"And that is?" the Doctor asked with a light pinch in one eye.

Braxiatel smirked. "We have an entire army here, Thete." He looked over his own shoulder toward the woodlands behind him. "Hundreds, thousands of Time Lords and Ladies betrayed by Rassilon." He looked back to him, and then toward Romana. "Each of them ready to stand behind –"

"You speak as though you are suggesting civil war," she interrupted him with a sharp growl. "I will not allow that. Not again, Braxiatel. Never again."

"I suggest no such thing," he countered. "It is one of many options, of course, but by no means the only one."

"It will come down to a vote," Narvin offered flatly. "As it always does." His eyes switched to Romana. "And if these Lords and Ladies know that they have a saviour within you, the one who saved them from the betrayal of Rassilon. Time will slide toward you."

"It's not why I allow and support it," she warned low. "These are people. Our people. They should be saved with no ulterior motive behind our efforts. Four hundred and fifty years of war, of fighting for survival…" She exhaled a shaking breath. "This is not how it ends for them. Any of them. I won't use that to my advantage over Rassilon."

"Which is precisely why you'll get their support, Romana," the Doctor offered gently. "Because you don't do it for selfish reasons. I don't know that you ever have."

She laughed ruefully. "Don't think me that innocent, Doctor. I have behaved selfishly on far more occasions than I wish to admit to." Her eyes shifted toward Leela. "And hurt those I care about for those same very selfish reasons."

"Show me someone who hasn't," he offered with a small smile. "There isn't a single life form across the entire universe that can claim to be completely selfless."

"Very true, Thete," the younger Braxiatel agreed drowsily. It was clear that regeneration tiredness was on full approach, and he needed to fall into coma to properly complete his regeneration. "And so it's on that note that I embrace my own selfishness. I tip my hat to you, Irving, say thank you for saving me, and head off for a little bit of R&R."

"I will be in touch," the elder Braxiatel said with a nod.

"No you will not," Romana corrected him.

"But I must," he challenged. "Today has only granted you a very short respite. This is not over, it's only just begun. You still need me." He lifted his eyes to his younger self. "And so does he."

"Then you communicate with me, or with your brother," she warned him. "Not yourself. That has to stop."

"As you wish," he agreed with an almost facetious nod of his head. The calm and somewhat subservient posture of him quickly straightened up. A smile broke across his face. "So now that that's all settled. You all best be off. Leela, Andred, I ask that you stay here with me for the time being." He looked to his friend. "Narvin, I won't ask…"

"I don't need your permission," he interrupted indignantly. "Nor your approval. I have – as is my understanding – quite a few travel capsules that need immediate containment and protection. With all due respect to you, Braxiatel – which is admittedly very little – I don't trust you with that."

"Charming."

"I will make a brief return to Gallifrey to collect what I need…"

"You won't speak with Rassilon," Braxiatel warned him. "You won't tell him we have a cure and a growing rebellious force."

"Rassilon is very much about shooting the messenger," he answered with a huff. "I will ensure that there is enough unquestionable interference that what happens here won't be detected. Put a few whispers in the ears of certain council members to draw a few curious whispers and rumour mongering to detract from what happened today."

"As you are so apt at doing."

"Meanwhile," he looked to the Doctor, to Rose, and back to the Doctor. "Keep her safe. He wants her, and he will pull apart the universe to find her. He does not consider you a threat to him at all."

"Then that's his mistake, isn't it?" the Doctor said with a light smirk. "And definitely works to my advantage."

~~oooOOOooo~

Having had such a full TARDIS earlier, and being in the presence of so many, for it to be just the two of them entering the console room accompanied only by their three wolves … it almost felt lonely.

The Doctor set his helmet on the ground and took a moment to take off the orange suit at the door. He watched Rose walk slowly toward the centre console. Watched as she traced the pads of her fingers along one of the wide coral branches. There was a contented smile of her face. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to bask in the telepathic greeting offered by the ship.

It had been far too long since he'd had the pleasure of her company in the TARDIS. The last time had been fraught with ex-girlfriends and questionable science. It had been tense from start to finish, even before the fall into the pit that started all of the drama that took them here today. So to see her look so relaxed, and so happy, despite everything they were currently leaving behind…

…By the Gods it was wonderful.

He matched her smile, and even upped the ante with a full grin as he strode quickly up the ramp toward her. There was a wink in his eye as he moved across the controls and set the temporal coordinates for … for anywhere, really. They had two days until they were allowed to return home, and he wasn't going to waste a second of it.

"We never did get to Barcelona, did we, Rose?"

She hummed in question and then gave him a smile. "No. We didn't."

"Feel like a quick trip?" He dramatically flipped up a lever and took a stride backward. The smile on his face reached about as far as Earth was from Gallifrey. "Barcelona, here we come."

"Are you really set on Barcelona right now?" she questioned him with an unusual tone to her voice.

"You don't want to go?"

"Oh, I do," she breathed out with light excitement. "I really do." She tipped her ear to her shoulder. "But I was really kind've hoping that right now, we could just float in the vortex, or in space, for a bit. No destination, no need to visit anywhere…"

"But that's a bit boring, don't you think?" he said with a wrinkle in his nose and distaste in his voice. "Brax said two days in out timeline," he reminded her. "Two days can get pretty boring if we spend it all in here when we have the entire universe – all time and space – at our disposal."

Rose stepped toward him. There was a light and almost unsure posture in her gait, and she struggled to meet his eyes as she let her finger trail over the angles of his Blazer lapel. "I was really kind've hoping that we could. You know…"

Her unsure pause gave him the slightest tic of curiosity in his eye. The curiosity fled toward understanding and full acquiescence to her every single whim and desire when she undid the tie around his neck, and slowly started to unbutton his oxford. His voice fell low and slightly husky. "We could, what, Rose?"

Her eyes still didn't meet his. They seemed more focused on the way her fingers popped one button after the other to reveal the thin white undershirt beneath them. "I think it's time, Doctor."

"Time for what?" he pressed gently with only the slightest sigh of expectation. "Tell me what you need, Rose. It's yours."

That made her smile – wide. With a light lift in her eyes to meet his, she grasped each side of his half-unbuttoned shirt and grunted as she yanked it wide open, spraying the remaining fastened resin buttons to the ground at their feet.

"I want you to make me howl," she demanded on a breathy voice that hissed through her teeth. "Remind me who we were, who we are, and who we always will be." She pulled hard on the fabric she still had held in her hands to tug him closer toward her. She didn't pull him into a desperate and passionate snog as he expected. Instead, she held him just short of closing the distance between them to huff against his lips. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer Barcelona…"

His arms snapped tight around her back and he grunted into a growl as he squeezed hard enough to lift her feet from the ground. He extended one arm to flick a switch on the console, and then turned abruptly to walk the two of them toward the corridor. She was still held against him chest to chest. Her legs dangled lifelessly down either side of his. "Barcelona can wait."

~~oooOOOooo~~