Chapter Three – The Green, Green Grass of Home

The grass wasn't green. It was a silvery blue shade, and the skies were orange. But Rose had seen much odder sights in her travels with the Doctor. As long as the grass didn't try to eat her – like on Arcturus Prime – and the skies didn't rain acid – the moons of Celios, for instance – it didn't faze her. What did faze her was being here. On Gallifrey. With the Doctor. She cast him a sideways look. He was walking glumly along beside her, kicking occasionally at the blue grass.

I can't tell you about the Time War, I can't change what's going to happen, Rose thought, but I can give you this day. One day to remember, when all this is gone. On impulse she bent and plucked a handful of the grass, and put it in her handbag. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but did not otherwise comment. He came to a stop at the edge of the trees, stared at the city in the distance, then looked at her.

"All right. We're here. Can we go?"

"No."

He sighed. "Fine. Where to then?"

"Everywhere."

"Rose, it's a big planet."

Rose looped one arm through his, and gave him her most winning smile. "And it's your home. You're the expert here. Take me to all your favourite places."

"It's Gallifrey. I don't have any favourite places."

"You must do. And people. I bet there's tons of people you'd like to visit."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why so eager to see my home?"

Oops. Overplayed that hand. She would have to tread carefully. Rose withdrew her arm and shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans. "It's just that my Doctor – you – never brought me here." That was true enough. "And I thought maybe…"

"I'd be easier to convince?"

"Um…something like that." A pause, then… "C'mon, Doctor. It'll be fun! I bet you've never played tourist on your own planet. And I bet there really are people you'd like to see. Besides, I'd like to meet some other Time Lords."

"I can't think why. Most of them are boring, backward, conservative, and just plain annoying, pretty much all of the time."

"So let's find the ones who aren't." Rose gave him another hopeful smile. "Honestly, they can't all be that bad. You're a Time Lord, and you're relatively interesting."

"There's an exception to every rule."

"We don't have to see anyone you don't like, or go anywhere that you don't want to, but I really, really, really want to see Gallifrey. Please, Doctor? Pretty please!"

She knew he was going to give in, even before he did it. Some things never changed.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind seeing a couple of old friends from university. And there are one or two books I've been meaning to get from the library…"

Rose's smile was real this time. Automatically she reached out and took his hand. "Great. And maybe we can manage something more exciting than just the library…"

Bemused, the Doctor allowed her to pull him in the direction of the city.

The morning and afternoon went better than Rose had expected, even though she felt she was walking on a tightrope the entire time. She had had to bite her tongue frequently, to avoid saying something she shouldn't. She wasn't sure how successful she was. The Doctor kept giving her odd looks, but good-naturedly went along her suggestions.

They went to a market where Rose maxed out the credit stick he had given her on trinkets and keepsakes, anything small enough to carry in her oversized handbag, which was growing heavier with every passing moment, the strap digging into her shoulder. The Doctor probably thought her a hopeless souvenir hound, but Rose didn't care. She had a plan. Other things went into the bag whenever she thought he wasn't looking; a small golden rock with a topaz stripe down one side; a purple flower that she shoved between the pages of a tiny guidebook she had bought; even the empty food container from her lunch. But as her handbag grew heavier, so did her heart. It was so little. There was so little she could save. One handbag's worth. Soon all this would be gone, and all that would remain were a few insignificant bits and pieces…and one unhappy Time Lord.

I would save this for you if I could, she thought, watching him animatedly argue with an old colleague he had met in the street. One warning is all it would take. And yet, what if that made things worse? The Daleks might win the Time War. Or the Doctor might die. Really die, forever and always. He had never told her all the details about what happened. Rose didn't know enough about the war, didn't know what would be safe to tell him and what wouldn't. And so she said nothing, merely continued to stuff fragments of a lost world into her handbag…and to hold her tongue.

The Doctor gave the man he was talking to a cheery wave then strode over to Rose, a bounce in his step.

"All right, I admit it."

"Admit what?"

"You were right. This has been fun. I haven't been to the market in…well, centuries, I suppose."

Rose shifted the bag to her other shoulder and linked her arm through his. "This is me," she said, "carefully refraining from saying 'I told you so'…"

"No, I'm fairly sure I can detect an 'I told you so' in your voice…"

It was the crystals that did it. Rose and the Doctor had stopped at a booth at the far end of the market, Rose peering at a row of pale green crystals, each about the length of her little finger. She was reaching out to touch the nearest when the Doctor appeared just behind her.

"Careful," he whispered in her ear.

Rose turned her head and suppressed a shiver as her eyes met his. Damn, but the man was good looking. She really couldn't decide which one of him she found more appealing.

"What?" she asked, dragging her eyes away, and hoping he hadn't read too much in them.

He nodded over her shoulder toward the booth. "They're pretty sturdy, but you wouldn't want to drop one."

Rose looked back at the crystals. "Why? What are they?"

"Archives."

"Sorry?"

"Data crystals. The ultimate version of books, I suppose you'd say."

Rose's gaze sharpened. "Books? What sort of books?"

The Doctor reached around her, and picked one up, turning it in his hand. The sunlight glinted on its faceted surface. "All sorts. History. Philosophy. Science. This one is literature. All the Gallifreyan works ever written. Poetry, folktales, so forth."

Rose swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "All of it? On one little crystal? How much does it cost?"

The Doctor glanced at the seller, who named a price that meant nothing to Rose. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

The Doctor smiled and put the crystal back. "More than either of us can afford. Come on, there's plenty more to see."

No. She wanted that crystal. Needed it. All the literature ever written on this world? She knew how much the Doctor loved his books. To be able to save that from what was to come… That would be worth any risk, better than all the useless things she had managed to collect so far. She had to have it. Rose hurried after the Doctor, who was striding through the marketplace, and tugged the sleeve of his velvet frockcoat.

"What about your slightly psychic paper?" she hissed at him.

He stopped and frowned. "My what?"

"Slightly psychic paper. Makes people see what you want them to see. You could use it to buy that crystal…"

"Well A, that would be stealing, and B, I don't have any psychic paper. Although that is rather a good idea, now you mention it. I shall have to keep an eye out for some…"

Oops. Rose darted a glance upward, half expecting Reapers to come screaming out of orange skies. When nothing happened, she breathed a sigh of relief. OK, she'd changed history, but just a tiny bit. And who's to say he wouldn't have thought of psychic paper on his own? Still… I really need to be more careful, Rose thought nervously. In the meantime, there was still the question of the crystal. If she couldn't buy it – well, she would just have to steal it.

And that was precisely what she did.