AN: Okay, so yes it's been 4.5 months since I updated. However, I doubled the length of the fic with this chapter, so that has to count for something, right?
Summary: Life gets confusing when you think you're falling in love with two people. It's even more confusing when you're courting one person as two people. Or, James and Rose start to figure out their relationship.
After making sure Rose made it safely home to the governor's mansion, James slipped through the back streets toward the seedier part of the town. As he drew closer to the docks, the quiet stillness gave way to the raucous noise of sailors and pirates enjoying the rum and the women.
The doors of The Wolf and Storm burst open just before James reached it. A brawny sailor stumbled out into the street, then tripped and collapsed in front of James. A ginger woman stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "And if your hands wander again, Sunshine, you can find someplace else to get your rum."
James watched the unfortunate would-be assailant until his greasy hair disappeared into the darkness, then he smiled at Donna. "Fighting off the suitors again, Donna?"
"Oi! When a foul smelling sailor tries to put his hands on my—and I quote—'treasure chest,' he gets a quick escort out into the street."
"Absolutely." James nodded solemnly. "Wait for one who has a better line, at least."
Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, go sit down, Shark Bait," she grumbled before disappearing into the kitchen.
James took a seat in the shadows at the back of the tavern and tipped his head back against the wall, giving the appearance that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. His eyes closed to narrow slits, he watched the comings and goings for a few minutes, and then the tavern owner walked into his line of sight.
Wilf set two glasses down on the table and took the chair opposite from James. When he reached for his own glass, he dropped a folded piece of paper, which James picked up when he picked up his glass.
"Always the best rum, Wilf," James said after taking a large swallow. "How do you do it?"
Wilf grinned. "Now, I can't tell you that," he chided. "The other tavern owners might hear and try to cut a better deal with my source."
"I guarantee you, none of the other tavern owners have a chance with your source."
The two men grinned at each other. James provided Wilf with the rum, in thanks for the kindness he'd shown when James had arrived on Arcadia, still wracked with guilt and grief and set on a self-destructive course. In return for the rum, and because he was just a good man, Wilf was his liaison with Jack while he was away from the ship.
James always intended to slip in and out of the tavern, but Wilf always managed to keep him talking for at least half an hour. Tonight, it was an hour and three more glasses of rum before he convinced the old man he needed to leave.
"I should get home before dawn. Thank you, Wilf, as always, for your help."
On the way out, he dropped some coins on the counter and winked at Donna. "Until next time, me beauty." Her outraged cry followed him through the doors.
The streets had emptied while he'd been talking to Wilf, the sailors all either passed out drunk or in bed. Unlike most people, the solitude did not make James feel more secure—there was anonymity in a crowd that you couldn't find walking alone down and empty street.
He hurried away from the docks and then down onto the beach. A cold wind whipped off the water, piercing through the wool coat James wore. He shivered and lengthened his stride, wanting to reach the cave entrance and shelter as quickly as possible.
Once he was warm and dry back in his room, he took the note from Jack and sat down in his chair by the fire. He read it quickly, translating the code as he went. An odd, hollow feeling settled in his gut when he took in the message—the Tardis was on her way back to Arcadia and would pick her captain up in a week.
He wadded it up and tossed it into the fire, watching as the flames licked at the edges of the paper until it caught and was consumed. He'd been waiting for this message for weeks—just tonight he'd felt the tug of homesickness to be back on his ship. So why wasn't he excited?
James let his head fall against the back of the chair. He knew why. Rose Tyler made staying on Arcadia seem like the best idea in the world. He shook his head and got into bed. Two days with the girl, and he was already moping because he had to leave her behind.
You have a duty, he reminded himself sternly. The people on the other side of the blockade count on you.
Still, James couldn't deny he was glad when he awoke early the next morning to the sound of heavy rain beating at his window. Jack would have to wait for the storm ran its course. Guiltily, he hoped the bad weather would stay a while.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose stared out at the storm. The wind picked the waves up and brought them crashing down onto the beach in a spray of foam and mist. There was a beautiful ferocity to it that she had been trying to capture on canvas for a week. A series of large swells hit the rocks below, one after the other. Even at this distance, she could see the sea spray scattering in the wind.
Having lived in the Constellation her whole life, Rose knew how to weather a squall. Latch the doors and windows, close the shutters, stay indoors, and above all, stay away from the water. Storms were as dangerous as they were beautiful, and walking at the water's edge during one was just asking to be swept away.
But a week of storms had meant a week without her evening walks with the Doctor. They'd only met twice, but something about the pirate drew Rose in. She'd certainly been moved by the story of his past, but anyone with a heart would have sympathised with him.
The connection she felt with him ran deeper than sympathy. The Doctor… treated her like an intelligent adult, rather than a decoration to be admired. Outside of her father, the only other man who respected her as much was Lord James McCrimmon.
A smile crossed Rose's face, and she turned away from the window. Her parents were throwing a small dinner party that evening, and James was on the guest list. They hadn't met since her welcome ball, and she was looking forward to seeing him again.
"Sally," she called, "I think it's time I got ready for this evening."
oOoOoOoOo
Rose tried to not be obvious as she looked at the clock for the fifth time, wondering where Lord McCrimmon was. The dinner party had started almost thirty minutes ago, and at any moment, her mother would invite them all into the dining room.
Still, it would be rude not to attend to the conversation, and in truth, Mrs. Chesterton's travel stories would have captivated her if she didn't have one eye on the door, hoping James would appear.
The door opened and James rushed in just as Lady Tyler rose to move them into the dining room. "I apologise, Lady Tyler," he said contritely. "The weather made it more difficult to get here than I had anticipated."
"You're forgiven of course, Lord McCrimmon," Rose's mum said. "At least, you will be if you lead Rose into the dining room, following Lord Tyler and myself."
James sketched a half-bow. "It would be my pleasure, my lady." He walked over to Rose as Barbara joined her husband on the other side of the room.
Rose tried to think of a topic of conversation while the footmen laid out the soup course, but James was the first to speak. "What do you think of our Arcadian storms?"
"You forget, Lord McCrimmon, that I grew up in the Constellation. Squalls are not likely to throw me." She took a few sips of her soup, then rested her spoon against the lip of the bowl. "This one has been beautiful, though. I've been trying to paint it, but I just can't capture the wild movement of the waves."
"You haven't felt closed in, then?" he asked.
She sighed. "Well, yes. I had just started to form a habit of taking an evening stroll, and I haven't been able to go out for a week. Much as I would like to paint the storm tomorrow, I confess that I would gladly give up the opportunity, if it meant I could enjoy my time out of doors again."
Ian Chesterton cut in from across the table. "I hope you don't walk alone, Lady Rose. Arcadia is beautiful, but it isn't entirely safe."
Rose smiled. "I assure you, Mr. Chesterton, I am well-protected."
"Are you sure, Lady Rose?" James asked. "There are pirates roaming the waters of the Constellation, after all. A beach after dark isn't the safest place to be."
Rose looked at James. The words were concerned, but there was a note of challenge in his voice, like he was daring her to do something.
"I promise you, Lord McCrimmon, I am as safe on that beach after dark as I am sitting at this dinner table. Which is to say, I might choke on a piece of bread or become ill from something in the food, but that wouldn't stop me from eating."
The footmen came back out and James sat back so they could take his bowl. Rose saw a glint in his eyes, like he'd just given her a test and she'd passed with flying colours.
Brushing off the odd notion, Rose looked at Mrs. Chesterton. "Have you and your husband lived on Arcadia long, Mrs. Chesterton? I think I hear a trace of the Citadel still in your accent."
Mrs. Chesterton laughed. "Ian and I have been on Arcadia for ten years now, Lady Rose. We travel back to Gallifrey more often than most in the Constellation, though—you have a keen ear."
Rose waited until the footmen were done serving the fruit course, then said, "When you learn a new accent, you become attuned to the sounds of it."
Her dinner companion smiled, and Rose quickly diverted the conversation before anyone could ask her about her life before her father had found them. "So, I now know how long the Chestertons have lived here. What about the rest of you?"
The blonde woman seated on James' other side leaned forward slightly to smile at her. "Sir Alistair and I have been here for eight years, Lady Rose. We moved shortly after he retired from the Gallifreyan military."
James shifted in his seat and took a bite of mango. Rose realised her question had made him uncomfortable, so she turned her own attention to her food, not wanting to pressure him. It was a surprise, therefore, when he spoke up anyway.
"With the exception of my schooling, which of course I did in the Citadel, I've lived in the Constellation all my life," he said quietly. "Our family estate was here, on Cadon."
From the way everyone else sucked in a breath, Rose gathered that meant something. She looked around at them, a frown on her face.
Beneath the tablecloth, James wrapped his hand around hers. "Cadon was taken in the early part of the war," he explained. "The Daleks take a scorched earth approach to most conquests; they started massive fires around the island that killed more people than the actual battle. I escaped and came here. That was seven years ago."
Rose squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, James," she said, not caring a whit if the rest of the party heard her familiar use of his given name.
She allowed silence to hang over the party for another moment, then smiled brightly. "Sir Alistair, I'm certain you could entertain us with stories from your long military career."
James' quiet exhalation and gentle squeeze of her hand was all the thanks Rose needed. She looked around the table as Sir Alistair revealed himself to be a surprisingly good storyteller, despite his no-nonsense demeanour. At the other end of the table, the speculative look on her mother's face caught her eye, and Rose quickly looked down at her plate to hide the blush she knew was spreading over her cheeks.
oOoOoOoOo
The storms finally cleared two days later, and James practically vibrated with excitement as he got ready to see Rose that evening. Her compassion and quiet support at the dinner party had conquered the rest of his heart, and judging by her comment about missing her late night walks, she at least felt something for him.
The half moon and stars provided enough light for the path to the top of the cliff. Rose met him halfway down and took his hand willingly.
"How have you been keeping yourself busy when you've been cooped up inside?" he asked as they picked their way carefully back down to the beach.
"A little reading and practicing piano—I need all the practice I can get—but mostly painting. I spent every afternoon trying to replicate the waves and the way the wind caught the water up. It was a waste of canvas, I'm afraid."
"Art is never a waste," he disagreed quietly. "Even if you couldn't quite capture the way the light shines through the water, or how the sea foam dances in the air, you spent time looking at beauty and thinking about it, and that is not a waste at all."
Even in the faint light, he could see Rose's cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, Doctor."
They reached a small stream spilling out into the ocean and were forced to let go of each other's hands long enough to jump over it. To James' delight, Rose took his again as soon as he followed her to the other side.
He tugged her closer to the water's edge. "Let's just stand here in the moonlight and watch the water," he suggested.
Rose hummed her agreement, and in a moment of boldness, James let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist instead. He held his breath, but Rose didn't pull away and chastise him for his familiarity, or demand that he take her home. If anything, she leaned into the embrace.
Tonight, the individual stars reflected off the water like diamonds sparkling on indigo silk. The waves lapped at the shore, their rhythmic splash and swoosh the only sound in the cove.
It was Rose who broke the silence. "What about you? What does a pirate do when a storm hits?"
James chuckled. "Heave to and ride it out belowdecks." He glanced down at Rose. "The storms are actually the reason I'm still here," he told her. "My first mate sent word the night before the first one hit that they were coming to get me."
"You're leaving soon, then?"
"As soon as they get here. I don't know how long that will take, but less than a week, I expect."
Rose shivered. "The wind is biting tonight."
"We should start back," James said regretfully. When he stepped away from Rose, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Here," he told her, taking his coat off and draping it over her shoulders.
She smiled her thanks and slipped her arms through the sleeves. "Next time, I'll remember to bring a coat of my own."
They leapt back over the stream and then joined hands out of habit. "You've put me in a quandary, Doctor."
James blinked. "How is that, Rose?"
She kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead of them. "All week, I resented the storms because they kept me from our walks, but now you tell me those same storms are the only reason you're still here."
Every moment he spent with Rose Tyler just made him more besotted by her. He truly wanted to court her, he realised, but he couldn't do that as the Doctor—no matter what her father thought about his brand of piracy, there was still no way Lord Tyler would allow his only child to marry a pirate.
James needed to know if Rose felt the same connection with him when he was himself as she did with the Doctor. "Surely you couldn't have missed me that much," he teased. "I heard you were quite friendly with Lord McCrimmon the other night."
Rose's step faltered for a moment, and the Doctor's arm kept her from falling. "All right there?" he asked.
"Yeah… I just caught my shoe on a rock," she lied.
What was the Doctor doing, asking about James? "Do you have spies in my house, Doctor?" she asked, eager to buy herself time.
Her mother hadn't stopped dropping hints about how well matched she and James were. It was an awkward enough conversation to have with her mum, but the Doctor bringing it up…
"Oh, I have my ways, Lady Rose," he said loftily.
Rose laughed, and hoped the Doctor didn't know her well enough to know it was fake. "Well, I'm not sure what your spy told you, but Lord McCrimmon is simply an acquaintance. He's a friend of my father's that I've been paired with a few times, due to our similar ages and unmarried status."
The Doctor's hand went limp in hers. "I see." His voice was flat, devoid of all the warmth and teasing she was accustomed to.
Shaken by the change of atmosphere, Rose needed words to fill the awkward silence. She grabbed for the first conversation topic she could think of.
"The stars are so beautiful tonight," she rambled. "Do you know the names of any of the constellations? I'm afraid I only know the Bad Wolf and the Lonely Wanderer." The Doctor remained silent, and she rambled faster. "The night sky is different in Gallifrey than it is here. I used to look up and feel so lost. Not only was I surrounded by unfamiliar things during the day, I couldn't even find comfort in my old friends at night."
"Gallifrey is in the northern hemisphere. We're in the southern hemisphere here."
"Yeah, I finally asked one of my instructors who had travelled more than the others. I did come to enjoy the northern sky and the new constellations, but it never felt like home."
"Speaking of home," the Doctor said, "here is the path back to the top of the cliff."
He pulled his hand away from hers, and Rose looked at him uncertainly. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
Shadows cast over his face by the cliff kept Rose from seeing his expression, but his voice was stiff and formal. "I'm afraid I can't promise that. My ship could come for me any day now."
Rose nodded slowly. "Very well. Then I suppose this is goodbye for now, Doctor. Please stay safe." She took his coat off and handed it back to him, then made her way up the cliff.
Later, alone in her room, she puzzled over his behaviour. The only explanation she could think of was that he wanted to put distance between them before he left. It was logical, but it still sent a pang through her heart. She'd enjoyed being with someone who truly talked to her.
Well, I'll see James at the Chestertons' ball in a few days. Until then, I'll just have to be content with the boring teatime conversation Mum likes.
oOoOoOoOo
After the way Rose had denied even friendship with him, James had wished the Tardis would arrive soon so he could leave Arcadia before the Chesterton ball. But his wishes were not heard; another series of storms hit the next day, not abating until the day before the ball.
He grudgingly allowed Robert to dress him in formal wear that evening. The cravat and superfine coat had never seemed more constrictive, and he was more ready than ever to leave society behind for the freedom of the Tardis.
In the carriage, James resolved to ignore Lady Rose. She wouldn't miss his attentions, and if he didn't engage her in conversation, he wouldn't leave himself open to being hurt again.
That plan was blown out of the water the moment he stepped into the ballroom. He scanned the room from the stairs leading down to the floor, and his gaze landed almost immediately on Rose, as if she were his true north and he would always find her.
Despite James' best intentions to remain unaffected by her, Rose took his breath away. Most of the ladies wore muted shades of pink and blue, but Rose was resplendent in a deep rose coloured gown. The satin shimmered in the candlelit room, the light shifting as she moved through the crowd.
With a start, he realised she was walking toward him. Careful not to meet her eye, he looked away from her casually and walked in the opposite direction, pretending someone had beckoned to him.
He managed to avoid Rose for the next hour, using that innate awareness of her presence to slip away from her when she got too close.
He could not avoid Lady Tyler, however, and the governor's wife caught him at the refreshment table. "You haven't danced much," she observed.
James took a cup of punch and handed it to her. "I've been busy catching up with some people."
Lady Tyler took a sip of the punch and led him a few steps away from the table. "I would like to see you dance with Rose before the night is out."
Her bluntness would usually be welcome in comparison to the polite dancing around issues that most of society did. Tonight however, he wished she were not quite so forthright.
But you love that about Rose, and she had to get it from somewhere.
"I'm not planning to stay much longer," James said. "I'm sure she's spoken for in the next two dances."
"That's where you're wrong. I happen to know she has the next dance available, and it'll be starting in just a few minutes. I'll take that cup from you; she's over there, talking to Mrs. Chesterton."
James knew when he'd been outmanoeuvred. He handed his cup to Rose's mum with a slight bow, then worked his way over to where he already knew Rose was standing.
"Lord McCrimmon!" Mrs. Chesterton said. "I hadn't realised you'd made it—you haven't danced a single dance."
He managed a smile that he thought might look sincere. "Yes, I know. But I'm here to rectify that, if Lady Rose would give me the pleasure of dancing the two next with me?" James held out his hand, palm up.
Rose's eyes searched his, and he realised that she suspected he'd been avoiding her. Either his smile fooled her, or she knew there was no polite way to refuse, for she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
When the first strains of music began, James wanted to curse. It couldn't be any of the formal dances that would keep Rose at a slight distance. No, it had to be a waltz, which demanded he hold her close.
James held Rose with stiff arms, keeping her body the formal distance from his. After a turn around the dance floor, she said his name quietly.
"Yes, Lady Rose?" he answered.
"I thought we agreed to be allies at these events," she said, and he could hear a faint hint of hurt in her voice. "Better with two, remember?"
Oh, he remembered very well. He remembered her saying those words to him twice, once as James, and once as the Doctor.
The memory sparked a sudden revelation. He was, for all intents and purposes, courting Rose as two different men. In that situation, how could he expect her to tell the Doctor about her close friendship with Lord McCrimmon?
James relaxed the dance pose and smiled down at her. "I'm sorry, Rose. I had something on my mind, but you just reminded me that it doesn't matter as much as I thought it did." He pulled her just the tiniest bit closer and moved them across the floor with a lighter heart than he'd had all week.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose didn't know why James' mood suddenly shifted, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. The twinkle was back in his eye, and the hand that had barely been touching her waist now held her firmly.
She allowed the hand on his shoulder to slowly shift, until her fingers were stroking the short hairs on the back of his neck. She felt James shiver at the touch and pull her closer.
"The Chestertons have a beautiful garden, Rose. Have you seen it?"
Rose looked up at him, wondering if he was asking what it sounded like he was, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the promise in his eyes. "I haven't," she said.
When they reached the doors leading outside, he gracefully spun them off the dance floor, then took her hand and pulled her out into the cool evening.
The rich aroma of damp earth permeated the air. Rose breathed deeply, then hummed her approval. "There's something so real about the smells of nature," she said. "The earthiness of land after a rain, the salty tang in the air when you walk along the water…"
James led her down a garden path until they were surrounded by a bed of flowers. The moonlight was bright enough to hint at the riotous colours, and Rose bent over to stroke one of the velvety petals.
"Arkytior," he told her. "It's an old Gallifreyan flower you won't find in many places in the Constellation, because it generally requires a milder climate. But, if you're patient enough…"
Rose could place the almost familiar scene now. "Arkytior is the old Gallifreyan rose."
"Yes, it is."
The soft moonlight cast a silver glow over Rose's fair features. James found himself wishing he could just stand there looking at her for the rest of his life, and that was the thought that reminded him that he needed to tell her he was leaving.
"I need to tell you something, Rose," he said.
Rose tilted her head and reached for his hand again. "You can tell me anything, James."
He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, I'm afraid our 'better with two' partnership will have to take a hiatus. I have business I need to attend to back in Gallifrey, and I won't return home for at least a few months, if not longer."
A lump lodged in his throat when he saw the surprise and dismay on her face, and he looked for something—anything—that might make her smile again. Faint strains of music drifted out into the garden through the open ballroom doors, and he held out his hand.
"Dance with me, Rose?"
This time, away from all the prying eyes, James consigned propriety to the devil and pulled Rose close. His heart raced when she nestled her head against his chest without any encouragement from him.
Instead of being clasped properly, their fingers laced together. The feeling of Rose's hand in his felt just as right as it had the first time he'd taken it, and he was able to forget the hollow ache in his stomach that reminded him of how fleeting this moment was.
"I'll miss you while I'm gone," he whispered into her hair. "I'll look up at the stars at night and remember dancing under them with you."
"They don't have the same stars in Gallifrey," she said, her voice muffled.
"Ah. Yes. I was recently reminded of that." James fumbled for something to say that wouldn't give away that he would actually still be in the Constellation. "But they don't need to look the same to stir up memories, do they?"
"I suppose that's true."
Rose pulled back just a little, but before he could protest, the hand that had been wrapped around his back glided over his chest to rest behind his neck. When her fingers started playing with the ends of his hair, he released an involuntary sigh.
A pleased look crossed her face in the blink of an eye, and James realised she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He raised an eyebrow, then pulled her a little closer and began tracing delicate patterns up and down her back.
The feeling of Rose shivering in his arms was too much for James' self-control. He lowered his face to hers slowly, giving her time to back up, but instead she tilted hers up and closed her eyes. He breathed her name against her lips, then closed the gap between them.
Rose's lips were parted slightly, and James fitted his over them, keeping the caress light until she indicated she wanted something more. He dropped three gentle kisses on her mouth, then shifted and pressed his forehead to hers. The intimacy of their breath mingling affected him more than their kisses had, and he had to swallow a moan.
When she sighed and whispered his name, he tilted his head and bumped her nose with his. Rose smiled and turned her face toward him, and James pressed a firm kiss to her lips. The hand resting in the small of her back tugged her closer, and soon there barely a centimetre of space between them. With every inhalation, Rose's chest brushed against his, and he had to fight the instinct to move a hand up to stroke her breasts.
Instead, he traced his tongue over the seam of her lips. Her mouth opened without any more hints from him, and he slipped his tongue inside, stroking it along hers and licking at the roof of her mouth.
The hand that had been cupping the back his neck moved up into his hair. The feeling of her tugging at his hair and scraping her nails over his scalp drew a loud moan from James, and he felt his restraint slipping away. If he wanted to return Rose to the ballroom without it being obvious what they'd been doing, he needed to stop kissing her now.
When James broke the kiss, Rose protested with a soft whimper. "I know," he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice. "But there's an established order to things. Sweet words and passionate kisses given in the moonlight aren't the proper way to court a lady."
Attuned with her as he was, James felt her breath hitch. "Are you courting me?" she whispered.
Nervousness shot through him. Maybe Rose would prefer the Doctor—the daring pirate over the boring but clever nobleman. "I am if you would like me to," he said, giving her the choice.
She nibbled on her bottom lip, and James nearly groaned out loud. Did she realise how much of a temptation she was, or was it all simply… natural?
"That depends," she said coyly, and he had to think for a second to remember what they were talking about. "If I say yes, how long will I have to wait for you to kiss me again, according to your established order?"
James chuckled. "Cheeky minx. I'll come talk to your father before I leave, and assuming he approves, I'll give you a goodbye kiss."
oOoOoOoOo
Somehow, they managed to slip back into the ballroom without anyone noticing. James bowed before Rose, and as he pressed a kiss to her hand, he whispered that he would be leaving the ball soon.
Rose wished she could leave as well—or better yet, that she could leave with James—but the governor's family couldn't be among the first to leave a ball. Instead, she danced with four more men, plastering a smile on her face when they stepped on her feet and pretending to be interested in all the boring things women were supposed to talk about.
Finally, her mum signalled that they were ready to go, and a real smile crossed Rose's face. A footman brought out their wraps while their carriage was brought around, and then they were on their way home.
Rose maintained her proper demeanour until Sally had loosened all the ties on her dress and stays and pulled the pins out of her hair. She dismissed her lady's maid then and peeled her layers off herself, wrapping a dressing gown around herself after she'd stripped down to her chemise.
Through her windows, she could see the moon shining over the water. Unable to resist, she slipped out onto the balcony and stared out at it.
"Sweet words and passionate kisses given in the moonlight…"
Something about the phrase niggled at her, and she closed her eyes, trying to figure out what it was. Pulling up the memory, she listened to him again, and a moment later, she sucked in a breath.
James' accent was, for the most part, a perfect upper class Gallifreyan accent, but every once in a while, his lifetime in the Constellation slipped through, creating a unique accent that mashed the two into one. His inflection in the word moon was one such word.
She'd heard it before, though. She'd heard it from the Doctor.