A/N:

Summary: Three Doctors and a ship of bad guys ... fun

Notes: I got upset earlier. I had this chapter written, and for once was actually happy with what I'd written (which generally means no one else will like it), and what happened? Rogers happened, didn't they? Internet crashed, wifi gone, my cellphone data was shoddy at best.

I was panicked that I'd miss today as a result.

Thankfully, it's back up and running now after a two and a half-hour outage.

Imagine having no TV, no internet, and a teenager bored out of his mind. Terrifying!

Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter. I really do!

~~oooOOOooo~~

The only people who didn't drop to the ground at the sounds of weapon fire were the three Time Lords and their tiny little pink and yellow human. With people dropping to their knees and hips onto the tarmac and gravel floor of the courtyard and patio around them, the three Doctors loomed as tall and commanding beings. They may as well have been in full ceremonial robes for the power they projected.

Nine's arms were folded tightly across his chest and his shoulders were held back to push his chest forward. He didn't look away from the group across the way as he snarled underneath his breath and set his face in a scowl. "Ship powers all their weapons, yeah?"

"Haven't been any upgrades to their systems as far as I know," Ten answered as he flicked open his long jacket and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. His head lowered to send a glower across the distance. "Their laser shots are calibrated specific to the species in order to inflict as lethal a shot as possible, that information has to be processed through the ship's weaponry regulators."

Nine sent a quick glare toward his elder self. "Thanks for that invaluable information, Captain Obvious. Knew that, already, thanks. Got anything new to add that might actually help?"

"How about that they've added regeneration inhibitors to their arsenal," he snapped in reply with a glare toward him. He looked back to the throng that had yet to notice them. "So up against that lot, we're out of luck if we get hit – just like anyone else they target."

"Right," he drawled long. "That actually helps."

Rose peeped at their rear. When the three Time Lords had moved in together to analyse the situation, they'd effectively created a shield of protection around her. She couldn't see over their shoulders and had to make do with peeking through the very tiny gaps between jackets at the scene. "Just how does that help?" she queried. "Knowing you'll die if you get hit?"

"Means I won't get in the way," Eight offered with a look over his shoulder toward her. "Will make more of an effort not to get shot at."

"Would think you'd do that anyway," she groused. She looked up to him with concern in her gaze. "I don't know the circumstances of your regeneration, but his…" She gestured toward Nine with a short flick of her eyes. "I know how he regenerated – I was there for it."

"This isn't where it happened," Nine confirmed darkly. "He's a long way from regenerating yet, Rose." He huffed out and lowered his head to glare through his brows ahead of them. "Thinkin' this might be a better way to go about it than what actually happened."

"Better than how I ended up in this body to begin with," Eight said with a sigh. "Really, quite a pointless reason."

Rose sniffed. "Well I don't want any of you regeneratin'," she said with order in her voice. "Or dyin'. You hear me?"

"Rose is right," Eight offered flatly. He gestured to Nine and then himself. "Either of the two of us regenerating here and how – or dying - will do damage to the timelines."

"Neither of which can be affected in any way," Ten agreed with a firm nod of his head. "It's imperative your timelines stay intact. Your regenerations and their timing can't be deviated from. They're vital to the timeline and the proper turn of the universe." He lowered his head and cleared his throat with a light cough. "Looks like this one is on me, then."

Rose grabbed at the shoulder of his jacket and tugged hard to force him to turn toward her. His reluctance to do so gave him a slight stagger that dipped his shoulder low enough to being his face level with hers.

"Rose," he warned gently.

"No, Doctor," she snarled as she grabbed firmly at one of his lapels to hold him down at her level. "This is not on you. Me not wanting you to die or regenerate has nothing to do with timelines. I couldn't give a shit about the damn timelines." She paused only to swallow. "I care about you, and who you are right now." Her expression shifted from anger to pleading. "We've only just started with this you, Doctor. We've still got so much more to do together." She cupped his cheeks in her hands. "Don't take this away from me; this face. The face I love. The face I want to wake up to every morning."

He stepped closer to her, his hands settling on her waist. "Rose," he breathed out longingly. "You have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that." He pressed a light kiss to her mouth, then drew his lips up to kiss at her forehead. "My hearts beat for you," he vowed on a breath.

She repeated the sentiment in his language and lifted her head to look up at him. "So, don't do what I know you're thinking, okay? This isn't your fight. Let the locals deal with it for once."

"It's always my fight," he corrected her with a sigh. He looked to Eight with an expression of pain and pleading. "Protect her. At all costs, protect her. Rose is your priority above all else."

"Understood," he confirmed with a nod of his head. He put an arm around Rose's shoulder with a firm hold, fully expecting her to struggle against him. "Do what you have to. I've got her."

"Don't you dare," she seethed when Ten took a long stride backward. As expected, she struggled against Eight's hold. "Doctor, don't you dare!"

"My hearts," he vowed placing his hand on his chest. He then looked to Eight, his expression hardening into order. "And whatever you do, don't let her call Brax."

"Try an' stop me," she growled with a fumble in her pockets for her phone. "He'll kick your arse, Doctor. An' you know what? I'm gonna let him." She pulled her phone from her pocket with clumsy movements, but wasn't able to make it past the lock screen before it was snatched out of her hands by the Ninth version of her husband.

"I'll take that," he said with a smirk.

"Give that back!"

He shook his head and dropped it into the pocket of his leather jacket. He pointed toward the man who held her so firmly and strode toward his elder self. "Rose's got more strength to her than she looks, so hold on tight." He thumbed toward Ten, who stood tall at the railing in analysis with one hand in his pocket, the other curled around his sonic. "I'll see what he needs."

"It's alright," he said with a grit in his teeth at her incessant struggling. "I've got her. I think…" He let out a small grunt when she almost broke free, but quickly took hack his hold of her. "Just settle down," he commanded her. "I've got you…"

"You don't," she corrected him.

"Yes I do," he affirmed with a grunt and a curl in his lip. "So, settle down, will you?"

She let out an angry laugh. Her eyes were narrowed on her husband quietly talking with his younger self, and her frustration shattered the filter that was supposed to exist between her brain and her mouth. "Once upon a time you might've had me, Thete, but not anymore. Not this you anyway." She let out a hard sigh and settled her struggling for long enough to glare across at Ten in the hope it might be strong enough to drop him where he stood – alas, no luck on that. "The universe certainly saw to that, didn't she?"

His breath caught and his hold on her tightened. "What did you just say?"

~~oooOOOooo~~

Nine spared a glance toward where Rose and his younger self waited. He noted a stunned expression on the face of the man, and the calm anger that Rose projected toward the two of them. "Well. You're going to have to come up with something fantastic to make this up to her," he offered with a shrug as he looked back to the scene ahead of them. "She's livid."

"Scared," he corrected on a low voice. "Not angry. Scared. As I would be if I was in the same position as her." He shifted his eyes to him. "And trust me, you'll be there soon enough."

"I'll have to trust you on that," he breathed out. He jutted his chin upward. "So, what're you thinking this is really about?"

"They're not quite focused in this direction," he remarked curiously. "Which means this is a little more than a simple robbery or takeover of the pavilion. They're here for something very specific…"

"And shielding their true intentions by taking the broad spectrum approach," Nine finished with a purse in his lips. He scanned the crowd for an answer. "Yeah, worked that out on my own, thanks." He tunelessly whistled through pursed lips, then exhaled the remainder of his breath. "And it also means that this bunch or rowdy brutes aren't exactly the main party."

"That's what I was thinking, anyway," he agreed. He passed a glance toward his younger self. "One of us could get on board the ship, take a look at their communication logs. How are your skills in Calgeil these days?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that."

"That was my way of telling you that I'll take whatever these brutes have to give you the distraction to sneak onboard and do some damage to their systems."

"Then next time, just say that," he answered with a huff. "Although, I think my current incarnation might be a touch more intimidating than yours is. Care to swap roles?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm the only one whose timelines allow me to either regenerate or die right now." He looked at him. "You and Romeo over there, you're still needed. That's nonnegotiable." He looked back front and swallowed thickly. "If anything happens to me. Promise me that you'll get her back to Brax – he'll help her."

"Yeah," he agreed with a drawl. "Still can't believe he survived what he had to do."

Ten smirked and turned his head toward him. "Doctor. Gallifrey survived." His eyes flicked to and from Rose in a gesture toward her. "And our Rose had a lot to do with it, as did Brax and Romana." He looked back to the front. "Which is why it's so important that you and him, you regenerate on schedule. The survival of Gallifrey depends on it."

"Then I'll do my best not to take an early regeneration," Nine said almost breathlessly, a smile spreading across his cheeks. He clapped his hands together and tipped his head toward the ship. "So? Shall we, then? Get this over and done with. I have a sudden burning desire to return to London."

~~oooOOOooo~~

"What did you just say?"

Rose at least had the chagrin to wince at the Doctor's somewhat stunned reaction to her thoughtless and angry confession. She let out a small moan. "Nothing, Doctor. Forget what I said. Ignore it."

"How can I ignore it," he spoke against her ear. "You just told me that you and I …" He drew in a breath. "That we were lovers."

"I'm your wife," she said with a moan. "As in the wife of a future you. Bit more than just lovers when it comes to it. But in your future nonetheless."

He shifted his head to bring his lips close to her ear. He felt her shudder when his lips grazed at the very edge of her ear. "Then why do you react like that to my touch?"

"Be-because you're the Doctor," she stammered out. "My husband. I love you. Of course, I'll react."

His hold of her had shifted from a protective capture into the possessive embrace of a heartbroken lover holding his beloved for the last time. "It's you, isn't it?" he asked against her ear in a familiar and husky tone of voice. "It's you…"

"What am I?" she queried softly, legitimate confusion inside her voice.

"The hole in my hearts and my memory," he answered simply with a tightening of his arms around her. "The one I can't remember."

"I'm not," she corrected him with a writhe against his chest. "We haven't even met yet." She groaned through a curl in her lip and looked up toward Ten, who had by now walked around the railing as was on approach to the attackers. Nine was nowhere to be seen, and that worried her. "And pick your moment, Thete. Now really isn't the time for this, yeah?"

A dip in her knees drew him down in a lean over her. Despite her efforts, he was refusing to let her go. There was growing familiarity in the shape of her against him, and of how she felt inside his arms. He moved flawlessly against her every movement as though knowing with intimate detail just how she was likely to move to fight against his hold. His mind may not remember her, but his hearts and his body certainly did…

…And, oh Sweet TARDIS of Gallifrey, did his body remember her. If the growing sense of familiarity and rising emotional response inside his chest wasn't proof enough, the sudden release of oxytocin and the drop in serotonin inside his brain definitely confirmed it. There was a growing and instinctive primal rise within him that clutched him from tip to toes, and he knew that if he didn't release her soon, he'd end up in full mate guarding condition. That would be dangerous to every single person here – including his elder selves.

Gods, for that condition to hit, just how long had it been since he'd last held her?

He released her immediately and without warning, which had her stumble forward into a chair and then the table. Her expression was one of complete and utter surprise and confusion when she looked back at him.

"I'm the one," he panted out with deep and staggered breaths. "The one who married you, aren't I?"

She gulped back hard, not wanting to admit that to him, but not wanting to lie to him, either. She fell back on the assurance given to her by his eldest self. "In your timeline, Doctor, we haven't even met."

"I don't believe you," he argued huskily, holding himself back against the wall.

"I don't really care if you do or if you don't," she growled in reply. "My husband is trying to get himself killed, so forgive me for not being fully invested in sating your particular brand of curiosity right now."

She didn't wait for his response before shoving a chair out of her way to make chase of Ten across the pavilion. Eight let out a long groan, a swear, then pushed himself off the wall to go after her. He caught her wrist before she made it to the opening between railing panels and pulled her back toward him.

"I already told you," she growled at him. "We're not doing this now."

"No," he agreed with a growl of his own. His eyes were full of warning as he spun her in place to pull her back up against his chest. He crossed his arm along her collarbone and pulled the both of them down into a crouch. His voice was drenched in frustration. "But I am going to do as I promised your husband, and keep you protected."

She exhaled Braxiatel's favourite Gallifreyan swear along a breath and huffed. "You're all as bad as each other, you know that?"

"That's because we're all the same man," he answered.

"Not even close," she corrected him.

"Where it's most important we are," he huffed against her ear. His eyes shifted to the pinstriped version of himself as he approached the main group of attackers and he let out a long breath. "What is that fool up to?"

"Whatever it is, he's not doing it alone," she snarled out. "And if you won't let me help, then he needs the next best thing."

"Which is?"

She drew in a deep breath and lifted her head high. With an open purse of her lips she let out a long and urgent howl through the marketplace. She ended the howl with a trill and a broken series of huffed yelps. Another deep breath and she repeated the sound.

"Are you making the distress call of a Dahrama?" he asked against her ear. "Why would you even … and how …?" He cut himself off to hear a reply to her call in the near distance. "Oh, dear." He looked toward his elder self and gasped in surprise to see his face held high to the sky and a vivid smile across his face. He saw the word brilliant formed in the lip movement of the man. "Oh-kay?"

There was a rapid tikka scrape of sharp claws through gravel, and Eight held onto the woman in his arms a little bit tighter. His eyes laser focused toward the sound, and the huffing pants of an animal, and within a moment a small little creature with dusty blue-white fur launched up high over the railing. His large white teeth were bared and there was a growl inside his chest. He landed with a minor stumble in front of the two of them and gave Rose a blue-eyed look before it turned tail and braced himself on the tarmac immediately in front of her. His claws dug deep into the cement and he braced himself with his shoulders hunched low and a dangerous little growl in his throat toward anyone who even dared look at them. Any movement was met with a snap of sharp teeth.

The little thing was tiny and really was quite awkward, but he certainly displayed a level of protection and aggression possessed only by much larger beasts.

"A cub?" the Doctor asked curiously against her ear. "You have a Dahrama cub?"

"His name is Neroli," she said with a nod.

"Cute little thing. Protective, though not wholly terrifying."

"It's not him they should be terrified of," Rose warned him with a lift of her head to the awning. "At least not yet, he's just a baby." She gestured upward. "Now those two on the other hand…" Either side of the patio two large white Gallifreyan wolves prowled silently along thick wooden beams that supported the awnings of the patio. They stalked with such incredible stealth and patience in their slowed movements that their movement would barely register in the peripheral vision of their prey. Rose smiled darkly. "It's them that they should be worried about."

~~oooOOOooo~~

A few moments earlier…

Ten bid a cautious farewell to his younger incarnation with a nod of his head and a roll in his shoulders. He watched as Nine disappeared quickly into the shadows of the crowd, then straightened out the seat of his jacket. He drew himself up tall and thrust one hand in to his trouser pockets. He flipped his Sonic in an upward toss in the other hand as he moved around the patio railing. He whistled out a tune that was favoured by his fourth incarnation and walked with nonchalance around the crouching and terrified people scattered throughout the pavilion.

"Well, what have we here, then?" he asked himself in a voice meant to be heard by others. "A new ritual of shopping I don't know about yet?"

He was met with the muzzle of a large gun against the centre of his chest, and quickly stopped his walk. He lifted his eyes, holding one brow high on his forehead and looked into the threatening face of a Calgeil thug. "Well hello there," he chirped with a wide smile. He used the point of his sonic to move the weapon away from his chest. "Is there a problem?"

"We're here to take over the market," the Calgeil snarled. He pointed his finger toward the ground. "We want everyone to get down on their knees and surrender."

"Oh," he breathed out without expressing the level of fear that the gunman was expecting. "Well that's going to make for a long day, isn't it?" He blew out a breath and rocked back onto his heels. In the peripheral of his vision, he could see the black shadow of movement through the crowd that belonged to his younger self. "Wouldn't mind me, then. Just here for a quick visit with the wife. Do carry on."

He turned just slightly as though ready to walk away and wasn't surprised to feel the gun thrust against him again. He looked back to the gunman. "Please stop doing that, I'm finding it just a little bit on the side of very annoying."

The gunman shoved the muzzle of the gun a little harder into his chest. "On your knees."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes. Well. We might have a bit of a problem with that." He rubbed at his chin. "Not one for getting on my knees, me." He smirked and gave a small chuckle. "Well, there might be one or two occasions where it might be considered acceptable, but as my wife isn't here right at this juncture and the rather public atmosphere of the market, it might be considered a little on the side of inappropriate…"

"I said on your knees," the gunman repeated with a firmer yell.

"And I said no," the Doctor yelled back with the same force in his voice. He then exhaled a breath and softened his voice and the seat of his shoulders back toward relaxed and somewhat nonchalant. "Again, not really a penitent on my knees kind of person. Aside from the fact that I really don't wish to dirty up my trousers – which I've just had dry cleaned." He pursed his lips with faux embarrassment and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm afraid that in my old age, getting down on my knees causes a host of issues that'll make the rest of my day rather unpleasant." He exhaled a long breath. "If you think hitting the century mark is awkward in the age department, try making it to nine-hundred. Or am I over a thousand by now?" He pursed his lips in thought. "I mean I say that I'm only nine-hundred-odd, but I could be … well … I could be getting much closer to fifteen hundred by now. Tend to lose count at five hundred, really. Amiright?"

"Fifteen hundred," the gunman repeated curiously to himself. His curiosity switched to aggression. "What species are you?"

"Well that's a little personal, don't you think?" he scoffed in reply with a judgmental look up and down. "I could ask you the same thing, you know." He then grinned. "Oh. Oh! Is this like an internet chat room on Earth when they ask A/S/L? I'll go first: Age: Somewhere near a millennium. Sex: Male. Location: Currently on Kucails, but call Gallifrey home." He grinned, even as the eyes of the gunman widened and he took a long stride backward. "Now. Your turn."

"Time Lord," the gunman hissed darkly. "You're a Time Lord!"

"Well, yes," he agreed with a nod of his head. "I am. And I'd appreciate it if you'd use a little less disdain when you call me that. I mean, how would you feel if I said Calgeil with that much hatred in my tone." He lifted his eyes just slightly to see his younger self disappear around the top of the ramp to enter the ship. His eyes snatched back to the gunman. "Well, I'd imagine you might take offence to that, might'n you? Hmmm?"

"Commander," the gunman called over his shoulder. "We've got a Time Lord here. Think he might be the one we're looking for?"

A larger fellow than the one currently trying to get him down on his knees approached quickly from the left. There was a scowl on his face so deep and creased that it would rival any that he ever saw from one of his professors at the academy. The Doctor's eyes shot wide and he shirked back just slightly. "Wow, you're an angry looking one, aren't you?"

He held a gun into the Doctor's face. "Which one are you?" he growled in order.

"Not really one for niceties, are you?" he said with a huff.

"What is your name?"

He exhaled. "Well. I go by many names, actually," he said with a sigh as he looked upward in thought. His lips turned up as he spoke. "Let's see. John Smith. Theta Sigma. The Oncoming Storm. Destroyer of Worlds." He then lowered his eyes to the man, and tilted his head in question. "Any of those sound familiar to you?"

"We are looking for the Doctor," he answered. "Or the other one, Braxiatel."

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully. "I see. And why would you be looking for them?" He adopted an expression of distaste. "Not really prime examples of the Time Lord Society. Renegade filth, the both of them."

He smirked. "The President of Gallifrey is looking for them."

"Since when so the Cageil work with Gallifrey?" he queried with a purse in his lips. If Rassilon was able to get the Cageil onside, then this fight they were planning against him just got a little bit more complicated. Which other world of filth had he recruited? "I was under the impression that the Cageil loathed the Time Lords."

"We want their weapon," the commander revealed with a grey-toothed grin. "The two Time Lords protect a weapon. Rassilon wants it – and therefore, now we do as well."

A brow flicked on the Doctor's forehead. Well, this idiot was less than a halfwit in revealing that much, wasn't he?

"And just what kind of weapon is that?" he asked carefully. Oh, he had a fair idea, but before he let fury take control of him, it might be best to confirm first. No sense in channeling Romana's legendary incandescence if these brutes only wanted to get their hands on a basic staser. "What is Rassilon calling this weapon?"

"It is known as Bad Wolf," he stated.

"Bad Wolf," the Doctor repeated inside a whisper. Well. This was a solar system of bad, wasn't it? Now he wasn't only expected to counter off Gallifreyan agents, but the universe's filthy bad guys wanted in on it too? Brax was going to be thrilled by this news.

"You've heard of this Bad Wolf?" the commander shot back urgently with a lift of his weapon into the Doctor's face. "You'll tell us how to find the Doctor and how to retrieve the Bad Wolf weapon."

Brilliantly, at the same time the demand was given, a long howl sounded out across the courtyard. The Doctor looked upward intot he sky and let the howl shudder down along his spine. "Brilliant," he said with a laugh in the back of his throat. He lowered his head toward where he knew his wife was seated and mentally thanked her for being so damn magnificent as to bring in their two big white fluffy kids to help out.

How perfect that they were wolves, as well. Bonus points for that.

He knew the wolves wouldn't be too far away and looked back to the commander with a smile across his cheeks. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and kicked at the gravel beneath his feet. "Bad Wolf? Yep. Heard of her." He blew out an impressed breath. "Beautiful to behold.. Stunning, in fact." He lowered his head to look at the ground. "She takes my breath away every second of every day."

"Where can I find it?" he asked urgently.

The Doctor's eyes lifted, but his head did not. He stared at the man ahead of him with a dark expression through his brows. 'You won't," he snarled with a level of darkness not even he knew he was capable of. "Not you. Not Rassilon. And not anyone else in this damn universe that think they want to get their hands on her." He drew in a breath that lifted one side of his lip into a curl. "I won't allow it."

"You're one of them," the Commander growled. "The Doctor or Braxiatel."

"I am," he said with a purr and a smile. "The Doctor – to be specific." He held his breath to hold that dangerous look a moment. Then, with a sharp inhale, dropped the fearsome façade and lifted his head with a smile. "So. Hello!" He heard a multitude of high-powered weapons click hard into firing position and gave a slight nod of his head. "Ahhh. Yes. Straight to it, then."

"You will give us the weapon," the Commander demanded harshly. "Or we will kill everyone in this market."

"You could," he suggested with a shrug. "Or you could realise that you've made a very, very big mistake, and get back on your ship to skulk about the universe in your very pointless criminal way." He exhaled and shook his head. His nose screwed up just slightly. "Because, really. I don't like to share my things. I really, really, don't like sharing."

"We don't intend on sharing," the commander growled. "We plan to take it from you." He held his gun on a terrified lavender-skinned woman cowering against the landing gear of another ship. "I'll kill them all, one by one, starting with this one."

The Doctor lowered his head and let out a long huff. "I really wish you hadn't said that," he said quietly. He drew in a breath and lifted his head. At the top of the ramp he could see the figure of his Ninth self lurking in the shadows. "Although that does make this a little easier, I suppose."

"And what's that?"

He let out a shrill whistle that was loud enough to echo off the hulls of the parked ships. "You want bad wolf," he asked. "How about two of them? Soliarn! Tiallu! Now!"

A pair of deadly growls sounded out above all of them. The Calgeil group looked up with horror at the shadows of two giant animals leapt from what looked like the rooftop of the café across the other side of the pavilion. All the Commander could see was the glint off white fangs and luminescent blue eyes shining through the shadow.

"Fire!" he called out with panic. "Kill them!"

~~oooOOOooo~~