The next morning while Rose enjoyed her tea and toast on her balcony, she thought about her conversations with James and the Doctor. Both men had alluded to a danger in the Constellation that the High Council was either unaware of, or pretended did not not exist.

She stared out at the sparkling aquamarine water and remembered her own voyage from Gallifrey. The sailors had been in a jovial mood for most of the crossing, but as they neared the Constellation, the evening celebrations on the deck had ceased. At the time, she had assumed they were eager to be home, but now she remembered the tense way the men had carried themselves and the collective sigh of relief when they made port.

Rose's cup hit the saucer with a clink. All I have are vague references and a sixth sense, she thought as she left her room. I need answers.

Every servant she met in the halls bowed to her and called her Lady Rose. She smiled awkwardly in return and unconsciously picked up her pace so she would reach her father's study more quickly. Rose would probably never be used to the deference. She was just a tavern wench from Powell Island; why would anyone bow to her?

The study door was open, and Lord Tyler was thankfully alone. "May I ask you a few questions, Papa?"

He leaned back in his chair, a wide smile on his face. "Of course, Rose." His eyebrows rose when she shut the door behind her, but he waited until she was seated to speak. "Is there something serious you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes, I believe so." Rose's fingers twisted in the fabric of her gown. This had seemed like a good idea in her room, but now that she was here, she could only remember everything she'd been told at school about well-bred ladies not being interested in politics or war.

"You can say anything to me, Rose," he said softly after a long moment.

The open, accepting look on his face gave her the courage to speak. "I wondered… I've heard some things…" She swallowed and then spat the whole question out in one breath. "What is the true state of the Skarosian War?"

His face darkened. "I need not ask where you hear of that, though I may need to speak with Lord McCrimmon about what is appropriate to discuss with a lady."

Rose's heart sank. He wouldn't answer then. Still, she wouldn't let him get upset with James. "Don't blame him, please. I told him I was tired of all the expectations placed on me, that I wanted to talk about things that matter."

Here father tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, while Rose sat fidgeting. "Your mother is determined that you will have the life she couldn't give you."

Rose stared at him, thrown off by the non sequitur.

He continued. "In the last two years, she has placed every hope on you being a lady of standing, accepted by society." He finally looked at her, and his blue eyes pinned her to her chair. "That is why you will never tell her what I am about to tell you, never let on in public that you know these things. You may discuss them with Lord McCrimmon if you wish, but no one else. Do you understand, Rose?"

Rose's heart was in her throat. "Yes, Papa."

Her father stood and beckoned for her to follow him over to a map on the wall. "The High Council would have you believe Gallifrey holds all this land," he said, making a sweeping gesture across the Constellation. "That is technically accurate, but what they refuse to admit is that the Daleks have a blockade here." He pointed to a line not far from Arcadia, where the Governor's mansion was. "The blockade prevents us from getting supplies to the people or sailors on the other side. So, effectively, although our colonial governments are still intact, that area is in Dalek hands."

Rose stared at the map. This was what James had meant when he said things were far worse than the Council let on. "Isn't there a way to get past the blockade?"

He sighed. "The Daleks are so brutal to the ships they capture, all the privateers are too scared to run the blockade. All but one, that is. It is only thanks to the Doctor that we have any contact with the rest of the Constellation at all."

"The Doctor?" Rose repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. "He's a blockade runner? I thought… well, I'd heard he was a pirate."

Her father's laughter was a dry, unamused sound. "He has a rather… unorthodox way of getting the supplies he takes across the blockade. Despite the war, some of the nobles on this side of the line live indolent, indulgent lives. If the Doctor hears of someone he feels has an overabundance of food, he sneaks onto their plantation and raids the stores. He's only taking the excess and giving it to those with greater need, but those wealthy plantation owners have convinced the Navy to declare him a pirate."

Rose nodded slowly. "You don't agree?"

He snorted. "The Doctor is the sole person standing between us and defeat to Skaro. I only hope one day he gets the credit he deserves."

She traced the blockade line on the map, thinking about the man she'd met last night. She'd known, somehow, that he was a good man… but she'd had no idea.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father's eyebrow raise in question, and she dropped her hand and turned away from the map. "But what about the other pirates? You mentioned the Master before."

He gestured at the chairs, and they sat back down. "The Master is hard to explain. He will attack the Daleks at times, but it always seems like a taunt, a game to see how much chaos he can cause. And he has also raided merchant ships arriving and leaving the Constellation. He seems to strike wherever the mood hits, without much of a pattern.

"The only consistent thing is his interest in the Doctor. Three times, a Navy ship has spotted the two dancing around each other on the open sea."

"Thank you, Father," Rose said. "Thank you for telling me, for treating me like I have a brain."

They both stood, and he surprised her by pulling her into a hug. "You're my daughter, Rose. I want you to be happy. If knowing the truth about our situation is what it takes…" He pulled back and shrugged. "Well, it wasn't what I expected you to ask, but I'm glad I had the answers."

DWDWDWDW

James' body buzzed with anticipation as he changed into his nighttime apparel. He knew he should hope Lady Rose would do the sensible thing and stay in bed, but he selfishly wanted to see her again… although he steadfastly refused to examine the motivations behind that desire.

But when he slipped around the cliff face and saw her familiar profile at the top of the cliff, he knew he couldn't lie to himself any longer. He was completely smitten with the delightfully unorthodox Lady Rose Tyler.

"I wondered if you would have thought better of this," he said when he reached her.

She smiled, and the impish look in her eyes drew James in. "I told you, Doctor, I will go where I want to go."

Rose began walking, and James fell into step beside her. She took his arm, and the polite gesture reminded him of the strange picture they must make—Rose, obviously a lady even in her simple gown, and him, clearly a pirate. "We should walk on the beach where no one can see us," he said, glancing up and down the path.

"Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Doctor?"

"No!" he exclaimed, then rolled his eyes when she giggled. "Which you knew very well. Come on, let's get out of sight before someone wonders what Lady Rose is doing up so late and calls for the watch to arrest me. "

He offered her his hand to steady herself as they climbed back down to the sandy beach. She didn't let go when they reached even ground, and he squeezed gently, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his.

The tide was out, and James led Rose through the soft sand to firmer ground nearer the water's edge. They both drew in a deep breath of the fresh salt air, and the hint of Rose's floral perfume added an edge of awareness to James' already heightened senses.

"My father likes you," she said as they started walking again.

"Your father doesn't know me," he countered.

She gave him a sidelong look which he fancied held a trace of exasperated amusement. "The Doctor: the blockade runner who is the only link Gallifrey has to the islands past the Dalek ships. I think he knows enough to have an informed opinion."

"There is so much more to the story than that, Lady Rose," James said. "And before you ask—no , I won't tell you. The story of how I came to put on this mask is not one I care to think about."

James was kicking himself for the abrupt words before they were even out of his mouth. That's not the way to woo a lady, Jamie.

But Lady Rose didn't drop his hand or insist he lead her back to the path. Instead, after a few minutes of silence, she said, "Why do you call me Lady Rose? I wouldn't think pirates would care about the forms of courtesy."

James could hear waves crashing against the rocks ahead as he pondered Rose's question. Why did he use her title, when he didn't as himself? "I suppose it's because you haven't given me permission to drop it."

Rose held up her skirt a few inches while they walked around a long piece of seaweed that had been left behind by the tide. "Then please, just call me Rose—or I shall be forced to call you Lord Doctor."

"Oh no, never that!" James said with exaggerated horror. "If you're going to give me a title, I insist upon a knighthood. Sir Doctor of Tardis."

"Then I want to be knighted, too! I'll be… Dame Rose, of the Powell Isle."

They laughed together at their silliness, then Rose asked, "Tardis? S'that the name of your ship, then?"

It was the first time she'd let her natural accent slip past the upper class tones she'd probably learned to mimic in the Citadel, and James felt a rush of pride that she trusted him enough to let the facade slip.

He nodded. "The best ship in the constellation. Faster than the Daleks, and certainly faster than the Gallifreyan Navy."

"Tell me about her."

James slowed and turned toward the water, taking in the way the starlight reflected on the waves in a constantly changing light show. He always missed his ship on nights like this, but somehow, telling Rose about the Tardis made the ache a little lighter.

"She's not much to look at from the outside, as far as space goes, but looks are deceptive. We've got room for a full crew, and supplies, and plunder besides. She just keeps going and going once you get aboard—the running joke is that she's bigger on the inside."

Rose laughed, as he'd hoped she would.

"She's a beauty though. Sweet lines, and three large sails in the bluest blue you can imagine."

"Why blue?"

James hesitated, but Rose shifted a little closer to him, and he sensed her genuine interest. "Blue was the main colour on my family crest," he said quietly.

He held his breath, waiting to see if she'd jump on the hint that he was a noble. Instead, she picked up on something else. "Was?"

Memories swamped James, memories of childhood on Cadon, of laughing and playing with his cousins and Koschei. "Gone now," he said tersely. "Our island was captures by the Daleks in the early days of the Skarosian War. They burned down my home—they burned most of the island, really."

Rose squeezed his hand and he took a deep breath and continued. "Koschei and I were the only ones to escape. We both swore vengeance, but over the years, he's become… twisted."

"Your whole family… and then you lost your best friend too?"

James' chest ached. "I'm all alone," he said.

Rose tugged on his hand until he turned to face her. "Not anymore, you're not," she said firmly. "Better with two, yeah?"

James looked down at the amazing, compassionate woman beside him and realised he didn't stand a chance. Someday, he would fall in love with Rose Tyler.

"Yeah, better with two," he agreed hoarsely and squeezed her hand.