AN: Several of you commented on the events in Japan, but I'm afraid I can't take credit for that. That entire plot with the Drast was out of the book, The Story of Martha.
Chapter 44: Not With a Thousand Swords
The Doctor wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up when his door slid open. He wasn't naive enough to think the Master hadn't been watching his response over CCTV, but he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing his agony in person. The clawing emptiness in his mind made him dizzy, but he managed to stand straight without leaning on the wall.
"How have you been this afternoon?" the Master asked as he sauntered into the room, a guard beside him.
The Doctor glared at him and spat out a string of curses in Gallifreyan that detailed exactly what he wanted the Master to do with himself and where he could go.
"What's gotten you so riled up?" the Master said.
A hot flush swept over his body, and the Doctor lunged at the Master, trying to wrap his hands around his neck. The guard pulled out his truncheon and knocked the Doctor down.
He groaned and rolled over to sit with his back to the wall. "You'll regret this, Master. I promise you, I won't leave you alone until you regret what you did today." He put his hand on his jaw, trying to rub out the bruise he could already feel forming.
"Oh, I see." The Master chuckled. "This is about the lovely Rose, isn't it? What did it feel like to lose your bond?"
Tears burned in his eyes, and the Doctor took a shaky breath, trying to hold them back. It felt like he'd been given a lobotomy—part of his mind was gone, and he felt off-balance telepathically in a way that matched his physical dizziness.
"I do regret that it was necessary for me to go to such lengths, but as I told your late wife, I simply couldn't allow the two of you to continue drawing strength from each other."
The words "late wife" hit the Doctor exactly as he knew the Master had intended for them to. He clenched his hands into fists, hoping to hide the shaking, but he couldn't fight his physiological reaction to losing the bond any longer.
The Master's voice droned on, but the Doctor couldn't make out the words. His dizziness turned to vertigo, making the room spin around him, and he stumbled to his feet and staggered towards his bed. He was vaguely aware of the Master's laughter, and then the sound of the door opening and closing, but his mind was shutting down so rapidly he barely made it to the bed before he collapsed.
The same neurotransmitter that had protected him from shock the first time his bond with Rose had broken flooded his system again. Despite her own pain, the TARDIS hummed weakly in the back of his mind, urging him to sleep. For once, the Doctor didn't argue, and he faded into a dreamless rest.
oOoOoOoOo
When Rose woke up the next morning, the silence in her mind told her the previous day had not been a bad dream. The loss of the Doctor in her head had left her with a headache, and she groaned softly as she rubbed at her temple, trying to massage it away.
She pushed herself upright and leaned against the wall. The television was dark, and doubt and fear crept up on her. The Master could do anything to the Doctor, and she would never know. Logically, she knew the Master was too obsessed with the Doctor to kill him, but the loss of the bond had her feeling just a touch irrational.
The door slid open, and the Master walked in, carrying a tray. "I thought we could eat breakfast together this morning," he said smoothly.
Rose honestly couldn't think of anything she wanted less than to share a meal with the Master, but she was hungry and she didn't trust his capricious nature, so she nodded silently. The Master's smile sharpened, and he set the tray down on the table and gestured for her to join him.
"I should tell you a little more about your collar," he said as he cut into his sausage. "It is essentially a telepathic cloaking device. When it's activated, you simply do not exist, telepathically." He chewed on his sausage, then smiled ruefully. "That does mean I won't be able to access your mind either, even though you're now cut off from the Doctor's extra mental barriers, but it's a trade-off I'm willing to accept. The reaction it got from your bond mate was better than I'd hoped."
The relief that had washed over Rose when he'd said he still wouldn't be able to invade her mind was replaced by a sick feeling in her stomach at the casual reference to the Doctor's trauma. The question sprung to her lips, but she managed to swallow it back—primarily to avoid giving him the satisfaction of provoking her, but also because she really wasn't sure she wanted to know.
It seemed the Master wanted to tell her, whether she asked or not. "Has the Doctor ever told you how a Time Lord's brain functions?" he asked.
Rose shook her head, and he set down his fork and knife and leaned back in his chair.
"Humans can do plenty of damage to themselves when under extreme stress, and even your inferior biology has ways of managing shock. But a Time Lord's brain is vastly more complex. Normally that means we're more clever, able to process things faster. However, when we're dealt a severe shock—especially one that is telepathic as well as physical, and even more if it affects the brain itself—that quickness and complexity can cause a chain reaction leading to a mental breakdown."
The cutlery slipped out of Rose's numb fingers. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd triggered memories of the Doctor's breakdown after their reunion two years ago. The fears that had made her hesitate on their wedding day came back.
Oh, Doctor.
"So we have our own special neurotransmitter that shuts down all non-essential functions until the brain is able to compartmentalise the source of the shock. Of course, my people being what they were, they preferred to take preventative measures rather than run the risk of being made insensible by grief. Hence the cold, detached demeanour most of them affected."
Rose snorted. "Yeah, but you can't have the joy without risking the sorrow," she pointed out. "No wonder you lot sucked the fun out of everything."
"Your Doctor," the Master said, continuing as if Rose hadn't spoken, "seems to have collapsed into catatonia. He is almost completely unresponsive, curled up in bed with his hand clenched around his wedding ring."
Rose sucked in a quiet breath and sat down on the edge of her bed, carefully not looking at the Master. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, unable to stop the question even though she knew it displayed exactly the kind of weakness the Master would exploit.
He stood up and collected the tray. At the door, he turned around and smirked at her. "The answer to that is simple, Miss Tyler. Because I can."
oOoOoOoOo
After leaving Rose Tyler in her cell, the Master meandered through the ship, eventually ending up back with the Doctor. In telling the human-Time Lord hybrid about her bond mate's suffering, a detail he'd almost missed had struck him, and he wanted to see if he was right.
When he opened the doors, the Doctor was in exactly the same position he'd been in when he'd left him the previous night. The Master's lips curled into a sneer and he shook his head. "You have only yourself to blame, for opening yourself up to that pain," he muttered.
As much as it offended him when Rose called the Doctor her husband, refusing to acknowledge the marriage bond, he was equally appalled that the Doctor had tied himself in such a permanent way to someone who'd been born human. Rose Tyler didn't deserve to be the Doctor's bond mate.
Shaking those thoughts away, he stepped closer and grabbed the Doctor's arm. Even in his unconscious state, the Doctor held his arm tight to his body, and the Master snarled. "You are going to let me look at your wedding ring," he growled and, finally, managed to pry it off of the Doctor's finger.
As he'd suspected, the outside of the band was engraved with a single phrase in their native language: the word forever, followed by the Doctor's name. He rolled his eyes at the mawkish sentimentality of it and slid the ring back onto the Doctor's finger.
A smile slid across his face as he left the room. Mawkish it might be, but it could also be yet another chance to use Rose Tyler as a weakness against the Doctor.
oOoOoOoOo
The Master returned to Rose's room for supper the next day. They ate in silence for a few minutes, then he said, "The Doctor's wedding ring is rather unique."
Rose froze with a bite of food halfway to her mouth, then quickly finished eating, hoping he hadn't noticed her moment of weakness. Of course the Master would recognise the script on the Doctor's ring, she realised, wishing for the first time that she hadn't designed it the way she had. If the engraving had been inside the band, like a normal ring, he would never have been the wiser.
"Do you even know what it means?"
Rose glared at him. "I chose it, didn't I? It says, 'Forever, my Doctor.'"
The Master smirked. "Not quite. You managed to engrave his ring with his given name, one I haven't heard in centuries. Did the Doctor tell you his name?"
"I know the name he actually uses, which is more important than one he rejected ages ago."
"So he hasn't." The Master clasped his hands together under his chin. "Well, far be it from me to be the one to give you such an intimate secret," he drawled. "I suppose I could… there would be some pleasure in sullying it for you. But on the other hand, there's a greater pleasure in knowing that if I don't tell you, you'll never know."
The bangers and mash settled in Rose's stomach like a rock. "I will see him again," she said fiercely.
The Master laughed. "You humans can be so delightfully hopeful and naive at times." He shook his head. "But I've gotten off track. Seeing his inscription made me wonder…" He snagged Rose's left hand before she realised what he was doing. She tried to curl her fingers into a fist, but he managed to pry them open and pull her ring off her finger.
"Oh, do be quiet," he said when she whimpered involuntarily. "I'll give it back to you. I just want to see what he wrote inside."
The Cheshire cat grin that spread across his face made Rose sick. "This is too perfect," he crowed, then dropped the ring into his pocket.
Rose's heart raced when her ring disappeared from sight. "You said you would give it back to me."
"And I will. But first I need to borrow it, just for a bit."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
The Master stood up and walked to the door. "If you're a very good girl, I'll let you watch."
oOoOoOoOo
When the Doctor finally returned to full consciousness, he realised he'd been out for nearly three days. The pounding between his temples told him Rose's death hadn't been a dream, but the searing pain had faded, leaving a migraine in its wake.
As bad as the pain was, it became ten times worse shortly after lunch when he forgot and tried to reach for Rose out of habit. The same blinding pain he'd experienced when the bond was severed radiated out from behind his eye, sending him to his knees. The Doctor spent the rest of the afternoon in bed again, this time nursing his headache.
By suppertime, the pain had receded enough to allow for clear thought. He needed something to occupy his telepathy, he realised, or his aching mind would keep searching for Rose and constantly re-injure itself. Thankfully, he had a distraction available—integrating himself into the Archangel matrices.
The Master appeared in his room the day after he woke up. "Well, I see you've rejoined the land of the living," he said cheerfully.
The Doctor didn't say a word. He'd realised while he was out that part of his nemesis' goal in killing Rose was to garner a reaction from him—truthfully, almost everything the Master did seemed designed to get a reaction from him.
Refusing to react—refusing to discuss Rose's death with him at all—was a small victory he could claim.
The Master pulled something out of his pocket and started tossing it into the air and catching it. The small item glinted in the light, and after a moment, the Doctor started when he realised it was Rose's wedding ring.
All thoughts of remaining silent disappeared. "Give me that," he growled and tried to snatch it out of the air.
But the Master caught it again and put it back in his pocket. "Sorry, no can do. You know, the inscription on your ring made me curious," he said. "So when I had a chance, I had to see what you'd put inside hers."
The Doctor braced himself to hear the words.
"You are my forever," the Master cooed. "That's such a sweet sentiment." He arched an eyebrow. "Too bad forever didn't last very long."
"Not long at all," the Doctor whispered. His aching mind spun with memories—the first time she'd promised him forever and then all the times she'd reaffirmed that promise, finally culminating in their wedding vows. The word was so much a part of who they were that even Tim Latimer had picked up on it.
The grief spiralled through him again, and the Doctor grabbed at his sanity and hung on as tightly as he could. That special neurotransmitter was a gift, but it was also a double-edged sword: if a Time Lord remained too long in the catatonic state it provided, eventually, they would lose all connection to reality.
Think of Rose, he told himself fiercely. She wouldn't want that for you. She would tell you to fight the bastard.
The agony slowly simmered back to a dull ache, and the Doctor was able to meet the Master's gaze head-on. A slight frown crossed the other Time Lord's face, and the Doctor nodded and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.
Ignoring the Master was easier said than done, but after a few minutes, he heard the door to his room slide open and closed. He drew in a deep breath and hid a victorious smile.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose ran her hands through her hair as she paced the length of her quarters. The Master hadn't made good on his threat to let her see the Doctor's reaction to her ring. Maybe he'd realised that seeing him again, no matter what the circumstances, could only make her feel better. Because this? This not knowing, not being able to tell how he was feeling? It was driving her spare.
The door slid open, and her captor stepped inside. "Good evening, Rose Tyler."
Rose shuddered at the sound of her full name on his lips. Coming from him, it didn't sound at all like it did when the Doctor said it.
"Hello, Harry."
"I have your ring, as I promised," he said, and he tossed something small towards her.
Rose caught her ring and quickly slid it back onto her finger, drawing a relieved breath when it was back where it belonged. Without the Doctor in her mind, the ring was the only tangible proof she had that their bond was real.
"I'm sad to say the inscription in your ring seemed to leave the Doctor feeling a little… bereft. He called you his forever, and yet here you are, not even married for two years and your bond is already broken."
Anger burned hot in Rose's heart. She'd had a vague idea of what the Master's plan for her ring was, but to hear him talk so openly about the way he'd taunted the Doctor…
"It isn't broken," she seethed. "You've just managed to hide it for right now. Once we're together again, he'll fix it."
The Master rolled his eyes. "Oh, your optimistic chatter is tiresome!"
Rose raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday, you said I was 'delightfully hopeful.'"
"And naive," the Master retorted.
"Well, if it bothers you that much, you know where the door is."
Rose jerked her head towards the door, then sat down on her bed with her back to him. Her spine was tense until she heard the door open and close, then she slumped against the wall.
Her mind ached with the unnatural restrictions placed on it by the dampening field. Everything was so empty, and it wasn't supposed to be.
Focusing inward, she found the hollow place where the Doctor should be. The ache in her chest spread up to her throat, and even though she knew what would happen, she tried to reach out for her bond mate. The Master's taunts had gotten to her, and she just needed the Doctor.
Pain exploded behind her eyes, and she curled up into a ball with tears streaming down her cheeks. That was only the second time she'd done that, and now she remembered why.
Once the worst of the pain receded, she pulled the blanket up over her head and drifted into an exhausted slumber, fully clothed. Just before she fell asleep, one more thought crossed her mind.
How long can I live like this?
oOoOoOoOo
It took Martha nearly month to get from Yokohama to San Diego via container ship, getting off at every port-of-call to tell a new story to a group of refugees, then catching the next ship heading towards America. However, neither the time nor the experiences could erase the final image of Japan from her memory. She'd left behind the friends she'd made in the camp, thinking they would be safe. She hadn't counted on the Master's ruthlessness.
When she closed her eyes, she still saw the flames against her eyelids as Japan burned. All those people, lost, simply because another alien race had deigned to take over the nation before the Master got there.
She took a deep breath as the ship pulled into the harbour. There were just over four months left in the Doctor's year. That gave her three months to cover as much ground as possible in the Americas, and then a month to find her way home.
None of her friends in Japan—especially Hito and Tokami—would want her to lose sight of the goal. They'd worked so hard to bring her other prisoners in the camps to hear her stories. She would continue telling those stories in their honour.
Her resolve nearly failed when she spotted the sombre expression on her contact's face. "What is it? What's happened?" she asked, not sure she could stand the blow she knew was coming.
"We didn't think you'd heard," the tall woman said.
Martha noticed with a sinking stomach that the woman hadn't actually answered her question. "Not a lot of news reaches you in the hold of a container ship. Now come on, tell me."
The woman swallowed hard and nodded. "Our operatives on the Valiant… They say Rose Tyler is dead."
"No!" Martha doubled over, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Not Rose, too. She'd already lost so many friends, but Rose was her best friend, the one who had introduced her to travelling through time and space and made it seem normal.
And if she was devastated to lose Rose, she couldn't even imagine how the Doctor felt. Oh God, their bond. The bile rose in her throat when she realised how much losing his wife would affect the Doctor physically, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep the contents of her stomach down.
A moment later, a hard smile crept across her face.
"Ma'am?" the American asked.
"For once, the Master has overplayed his hand," she explained. "I travelled with the Doctor and Rose for eight months before the Master took over. Lovely couple, the kind of people you just really want to know and be friends with. But if either of them were ever in danger… well, let's just say they did a good job protecting each other."
The other woman rubbed at her chin. "I see."
Martha shrugged. "What I'm saying is, killing Rose Tyler has only guaranteed the Doctor will do everything in his power to end the Master's reign. The Master might have had a chance before, but not anymore."
The American resistance officer led her silently out of the harbour compound. Martha stared up at the bright California sunshine, remembering a trip to Hawaii that seemed like it had been lifetimes ago. They'd spent hours in the sun, basking in the warmth after two months in the London damp.
She would mourn Rose later, when this was all over. For now, like the Doctor, she would focus on ending the Master.
oOoOoOoOo
Without the Doctor to talk to, days on the Valiant dragged for Rose. For a few days, she'd tried to start an exercise regimen of pushups and situps, but when she ended up collapsing into bed and sleeping for a full eighteen hours, she realised physical exertion was out. The TARDIS had been able to help her manage the huon particles in her body well enough that she'd slept like a normal human, but now…
Rose pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. It hadn't occurred to her that being a telepathic non-entity would mean the TARDIS didn't know she was there. Considering the state the ship's temporal sensors were probably in, Rose didn't even think she could look ahead and see that she wasn't really gone. At any rate, she was left to deal with the strain of the huon particles on her body alone.
It made her doubly glad when a week, then two, went by without the Master coming in to taunt her. Even though she was almost lonely enough that she would have welcomed the company, she definitely did not want him to know how dependent she was on the TARDIS, and how defenceless she was now without her.
Strangely enough, Lucy Saxon was her only companion. If rumours of her death were to be exaggerated as much as Rose suspected the Master was doing, he couldn't very well let guards see that she was alive. Who knew who they might tell?
So instead, Lucy brought her meals, every day. Rose tried to talk to her a few times, but her attempts only made the other woman jittery, so by the end of the first week, she gave up.
Well, at least now I know why Greg told me he thought the Master wanted people to forget I was even here.
oOoOoOoOo
Jack leaned back in his chair and shot Greg a cheeky grin when he entered the room. "What can I do for you today, Greg?"
The light-hearted attitude was a facade. A month ago, Greg had told him about Rose's death—but Jack refused to believe it. The Master had to be faking, somehow. Rose Tyler couldn't be dead.
And apparently, the Master had taken his disbelief as a challenge. Since then, not a day had gone by without someone coming to his room to tell him about Rose's death, or the Doctor's grief. Despite his best intentions, Jack was slowly being worn down.
Greg took him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. "Hey, be careful with the shirt," Jack protested. "It's the only I've got until they kill me again, you know."
"Shut it, Harkness," Greg growled. He dragged him through the door and down the corridor. "Our Master has finally figured out the one person you'll believe."
Jack watched where they were going and quickly recognised their destination. "You're taking me to the flight deck. Does your Master plan to tell me Rose is dead to my face? No offence, buddy, but he's not exactly the most trustworthy guy."
Greg didn't answer, and Jack didn't have it in him to keep up the fake chatter. The two men walked in silence to the flight deck, and when the doors opened, Jack saw the last person he'd expected to see.
"Doc!" He walked over to the conference table and sat down across from the Doctor. The circles under the Doctor's eyes and the lines on his forehead made Jack's heart sink, but he forced joviality into his voice when he said, "Well, long time, no see."
The Doctor's mouth barely twitched into a smile. "Hello, Jack."
Jack leaned on the table. "Doc, I've got to ask. They keep telling me Rose is dead, but I couldn't…"
The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line and took a ragged breath, and Jack slumped into his seat.
"No. It can't be. She's a Time Lord—he can't just kill her."
The Doctor shrugged. "Apparently, he can. We never knew if she could regenerate, remember?" He tapped his finger to his temple. "She's gone, Jack."
Jack had watched the Doctor grieve for Rose before. His blue eyes had been empty then, all the life gone out of them. This time, they were so full of pain and loss and anger, Jack had to look away for a moment.
"Is it as bad as you thought it would be?" he asked once he looked at the Doctor again.
The Doctor's eyes closed. "Worse."
The bleakness in his voice made Jack want to cry. It also infuriated him. The Doctor and Rose had been through so much, and they were finally happy together. He swore softly, and a small smile crossed the Doctor's face.
"That's pretty much how I feel about it," he agreed. "But…" He swallowed. "I'm trying to be strong, like Rose would want."
Jack looked hard at his friend and saw a glint of purpose in his eyes. The Doctor still had a plan, he realised. It was a plan to save the Earth, not Rose, but he had something to focus on.
"Well, I'd offer to be here for you if you ever need to talk," Jack said wryly, "but somehow, I don't think they're going to allow that."
"Thank you, Jack."
"Hey, you weren't the only one who loved her."
The Doctor flinched, and it took Jack a moment to realise he'd spoken in the past tense. Before he could stumble through an apology that might just make things worse, the doors slid open again and the Master and Lucy entered the room.
"Such a touching display on behalf of your wife, Doctor," the Master said. "I have to thank you for finally convincing Captain Jack that Rose Tyler is dead—he wouldn't believe anyone else."
Jack waited for the Doctor to lash out at the Master, but instead, he pressed his hands to the table, palm down, and stared straight ahead. The muscle in his jaw was twitching, so Jack knew the Doctor was angry, but…
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, and a moment later, he finally got it. This was the Master's game. Constantly talking to the Doctor about Rose and trying to get a reaction from him. But the Doctor was refusing to play along.
The Master turned his simpering smile on Jack, and he rolled his eyes at the Time Lord. "And thank you, Jack. I've been worried about the Doctor for weeks. It isn't good to bottle up grief the way he's done, but no matter what I do, he refuses to talk about his loss."
Jack and the Doctor shared a surprised, and yet resigned, look. Of course this whole encounter was a chance for the Master to use both of them for maximum efficacy.
"Hey Doc." Jack leaned back in his chair. "Did I ever tell you about the time I was caught on Ephrem without transport?"
The Doctor frowned. "No, but…"
"It was just before I met you, actually," he said, smoothly cutting off the Doctor's objections. The Master had brought him here to expose the Doctor's grief, but he wouldn't be a part of that. There were plenty of other things they could talk about.
"I'd been trying to find a way into the Time Agency for about six months by that point, and I caught a ride—okay, I stowed away on a passenger ship bound for Grewel. Only they discovered me—"
"Naked?" the Doctor interjected, a grin toying with the corners of his mouth.
"Is there any other way to be?" Jack shot back.
The Doctor rolled his eyes, but Jack saw the gratitude in them. He opened his mouth to continue his story, but the Master interrupted.
"Fascinating as this is," he said, a faint scowl on his face, "I didn't invite you here to listen to stories of your conquests." His lips curled in a sneer on the last word. "Did you really care so little for Rose Tyler that you can dismiss her loss that easily?"
The Doctor turned to stone, but Jack didn't have quite that much control over his emotions. "No, you brought me here so you could watch the grief on my friend's face as you tormented him with memories of his wife." He jumped to his feet. "What kind of sick bastard are you?" he asked as he rushed the Master.
The Master rolled his eyes and pulled his laser screwdriver out of his pocket. "The kind who's already killed you dozens of times," he said as he shot Jack Harkness.
A slight shudder in the timelines ran through the Master, but after over a year of planning and working on the paradox machine, he was almost immune to uncomfortable timelines by now. He pocketed the screwdriver and turned to look at the Doctor, who was staring at Jack's body.
"You didn't have to kill him. What does that prove, anyway, since he just comes back?"
"He wasn't doing what I wanted him to do," the Master said frankly. "Much like your Rose. Have I told you why I killed her, Doctor?"
As expected, the Doctor's only response was a slight dilation of his pupils and an indrawn breath he couldn't conceal.
"She offered to take me with you when you left."
The Doctor's jaw dropped slightly and his gaze swung to meet the Master's. "That's right," the Master said. "She was so certain that whatever plan you've cooked up will work… how does it feel to know her confidence in you was misplaced? Anyway," he continued, eager to strike the final blow, "she said that if I came with you, the two of you could work together and find a way to stop the sound of drums that has haunted me ever since I looked into the Untempered Schism."
The Doctor's nostrils flared. "Do you mean," he said, each word spoken with careful precision, "that you killed Rose because she showed you compassion?"
The Master rocked back on his heels. "I suppose I did," he agreed, feeling gleeful that he'd finally managed to get the Doctor to talk about his bond mate. "How does that make you feel?" he asked.
The Doctor looked at him with cold eyes, and the Master rubbed his hands together gleefully. At last, he could see the Doctor's anger.
A loud gasp interrupted the moment before the Doctor could say anything, and both the Master and the Doctor looked down at the floor as Jack Harkness came back to life. "Oh, why won't you just stay dead?" the Master demanded. He didn't need to look at the Doctor to know the interruption had given him time to recollect himself.
"Been asking myself that for over a hundred years," Jack grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. "Doesn't seem to make much of a difference."
The Master scowled and pointed at a guard standing near the door. "Take them both back to their rooms," he ordered. There was no point in trying to taunt the Doctor further today.
oOoOoOoOo
The Doctor's senses swam, filled with Rose again for the first time in five months. For a moment, all the remembered pain threatened to overshadow his joy at being with her again, but then he felt her touch in his mind, gently redirecting his focus.
The relief of having her in his mind again—the absolute rightness of it—overwhelmed him. He needed to feel her mind as close to his as possible. Mirroring that need, he pulled Rose into his arms and carefully laid them both down on the couch, their heads resting on the same throw pillow.
Despite aching for Rose, the Doctor was hesitant to approach her telepathically. She… it had been months since she'd had any telepathic contact at all. What if she didn't want him anymore? What if she'd gotten used to having her mind to herself?
It was Rose who deepened their bond to its fullest extent. Rose who approached him, Rose who rested her soul against his in a way that made the Doctor sigh with pleasure. They were together again.
The Doctor woke with a smile on his face and reached for Rose. Being home with her was…
The ache in his mind stopped him from finishing that thought. He slowly opened his eyes, not wanting to see the bare white walls of his room on the Valiant, instead of the warm honey tones their bedroom walls were painted.
A dream. Of course it was just a dream. You'll never be home with Rose again.
The TARDIS hummed weakly at the edges of the Doctor's mind. In the two months since Rose's death, she'd tried to be there for him, to distract him from the silence in his mind. Having her didn't make up for losing his bond mate, but at least he hadn't been abandoned completely.
He rubbed at his temples. The headache had never gone away, and he suspected it never would. Cutting a telepathic connection as close as a bond left deep wounds on the mind, ones that could only be healed if the connection were restored.
The physical pain blended with his grief, making it impossible for him to tell where one left off and the other began. He missed Rose so much, there was a constant lump in his throat as he choked back tears.
And the empty spot in his mind where she was supposed be echoed painfully. He was always reaching for her, always trying to find her… and she wasn't there.
The Doctor sighed and leaned back against the wall. Being cut off from Rose had weakened him telepathically, and his progress with Archangel had slowed to a crawl. Integrating himself with the network's telepathic matrices when his own telepathic centre was so damaged was like walking on a broken leg—but he kept at it, because it was the only hope he had. The only hope of saving the Earth, the only hope of stopping the Master…
The only hope of seeing Rose again.
He'd tried to ask the TARDIS what would happen when the paradox reversed. Logically, he knew that at the epicentre of events, likely only time would reverse on the Valiant. Unlike the rest of the planet, what had been done here would stay done—including Rose's death.
But the TARDIS hadn't been able to answer, her temporal sensors stretched as they were to maintain the paradox. And without a definitive no, the Doctor was able to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could have Rose back when this hellish year was over.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose was playing solitaire when her television clicked on. She glanced at the screen automatically, then stared when she saw the Doctor, lying on his bed.
The Master had clearly just entered the room, because the Doctor wasn't even looking at him yet. "Can I help you with something?" he said.
Rose scooted her chair closer to the screen and scrutinised every inch of the Doctor she could see. His arms were supporting his head, and he had his legs crossed at the ankle. In profile, she thought his face maybe looked more lined than it had been before, but it was hard to tell.
"I thought I would come ask how you're doing," the Master said.
The Doctor pushed himself up so he was sitting on edge of his bed, and Rose touched his face on the screen. She'd been right; exhaustion and grief had drawn lines around his eyes and mouth that made him look older than he usually did. He ran a hand through his hair, and she smiled when it stayed sticking up.
"I'm fine." His voice sounded tired, but not resigned, at least.
The Master tapped his fingers against the table. "Are you really? Because I've heard losing a marriage bond can be excruciating. That's what the legends said, anyway."
Rose swore at the Master, not caring that he was too far away to hear. "Leave him alone," she ordered, following the string of invectives.
The Doctor's left eyebrow arched up, and she wanted to cry at that familiar smug expression. "Ah, but none of the people in those legends had what I have."
The Master's eyebrows drew together. "What do you have? You don't have anything that I haven't given you. Even that bag of jelly babies and the picture you cling to are gifts I've allowed you to keep."
"I have a way to get Rose back."
"Really?" The Master laughed. "After all the lecturing you've done about my paradox, you would be willing to cause another, just to bring your hybrid back? So much for the moral high ground, eh, Doctor?"
The Master left the room, but Rose's gaze didn't leave the screen. A way to get me back? What is he planning?
Now that the Master was gone, some of the Doctor's confidence disappeared, replaced by desperation. He shoved both of his hands into his hair and scratched his scalp, leaving him looking like a hedgehog.
Watching him, Rose realised that whatever plan he had, it was a slim hope at best. But he was clinging to it to stay sane.
Her own door opened, and the television clicked off. "Did you enjoy the show?" the Master asked.
Rose turned around slowly. "You let me see him. Why?"
"I let you see how damaged he is," the Master corrected. "Didn't you hear him say that he'd be willing to create a paradox, just to get you back?"
Rose tilted her head. The Doctor hadn't actually said that. He'd just said he had a way…
Paradox.
Somehow, Rose managed not to gasp when the pieces finally fell into place. Instead, she shrugged. "You and I both know he won't actually do it," she said, "so I don't see why it matters that he considers it. He'll realise what a bad idea it is, and the TARDIS will help."
The Master rolled his eyes. "The two of you and your unending belief in each other—how dull and boring. He thinks you're dead, and he still believes he'll see you again!"
"So sorry to upset you," Rose snarked.
The Master huffed and stormed out of the room.
As soon as she was alone, Rose started thinking about the possibility that had just occurred to her from every possible angle. The Doctor had never told her what his plan was, but the Master's mention of paradoxes had given her an idea.
What would happen if the Doctor could undo the paradox the Master caused? The Earth would revert to its natural state, or at least what it had been like before the Master took over.
It would explain why he hadn't struggled with guilt when the Master burned Japan. If he could undo the events of the last year, then the loss of that country was only temporary.
And that was his plan to get her back. He was banking all his chips on the idea that once the paradox reset, she would no longer be dead.
Rose wanted to take him and cuddle him close and tell him that she wasn't dead now, thank you very much, but she contented herself with creating a countdown calendar, counting to the day the Doctor had always said would bring the TARDIS back to life. Hopefully, it was also the day they would be together again.
oOoOoOoOo
Three months after the Master cut her off from all telepathic contact, Rose woke up to the nagging sensation that she was forgetting something. Her time senses were insisting the date was important, like she'd set an alert for it on her phone and then forgotten about it.
She lay back in bed, trying to figure out what it was. Not her birthday—that had come and gone before the Master… Rose shuddered at the unending emptiness in her mind. Well, before.
Then she realised there was only one other date she would want to keep track of. Today was their second anniversary.
Her strong facade cracked for the first time. The emptiness in her mind haunted her as she remembered the final vows from their wedding: I take you as my bond mate, sharing my life, my mind, and all I am with you. I promise never to lie to you, and to be true to our bond through regeneration after regeneration, until we are finally parted by death.
Even though she knew this wasn't her fault, Rose still felt guilty over the loss of the bond. That one glimpse she'd gotten of him a month ago had been worrying. Thinking of him struggling with both the broken bond and his unnecessary grief hurt. This was her fault—she should be there for him.
The door opened, interrupting her guilty meditations. "Hello, Lucy."
Lucy's eyes had the empty look Rose recognised from some of her mates when they'd gotten into drugs. The Master was drugging his wife—but why did that surprise her?
Lucy shifted the breakfast tray in her hands and the fork dropped on the floor. Rose watched curiously as she bent down to pick it up.
"The Doctor had been different since losing you. He's… harder. More closed off," she said quietly. "Harry isn't afraid of the Doctor, but when I take him his food, I see something in his eyes… I'm afraid of what will happen if he doesn't know you're alive."
Rose rolled over onto her stomach and wrapped her arms around her pillow. "You should be," she mumbled. "There's not much that can upset him like this."
"If I tell him you're alive, will he be able to keep it a secret that he knows?"
Nervous hope shot through Rose, but she managed to stay reclining on her bed, not showing any outward reaction to the question. "Definitely."
"Think of a message I can give him. I'll get it from you this afternoon when I bring your lunch."
oOoOoOoOo
The Doctor had tried for weeks to ignore the anniversary approaching, but he couldn't any longer. For the first time since Rose's death, he pulled out her photo. The picture was creased from being in his shirt pocket for months, and the corners were worn. But it was still his precious Rose, looking radiant in the golden light of the setting sun.
When Lucy brought his breakfast, he slid the picture back into his pocket and took a shuddering breath to bring himself under control, but his hand shook when he picked the knife up. Her gaze fell to his hand, then met his, and he was surprised to see both fear and sympathy there.
Wanting to acknowledge that tiny bit of kindness, he pressed his lips together and nodded once before turning his attention to his food. He'd become proficient at hiding both his heartache and his steadily worsening state of mind, but the advent of their wedding anniversary—the first he would spend without Rose—almost broke him.
He tried to focus on Archangel that morning, but memories of Rose constantly invaded his thoughts. It had been ten months since he'd seen her and three since her death, but her voice, her laugh, her beautiful smile—he still remembered them all.
Lucy was jittery when she arrived with his lunch, and he tried to stand to take the tray from her. "No!" she exclaimed, jerking slightly. "Just… sit. I'm fine."
Except the way she tried to pull away from him made the water glass tip over. It shattered on the hard floor, sending glass and water everywhere. Not caring if she wanted help or not, the Doctor got down with her on his hands and knees to clean up the mess.
To his surprise, as soon as they were both bowed over the floor with their faces hidden from the camera, Lucy started speaking rapidly.
"Doctor. The Wolf has only been silenced—your story is not over. And… she says you get a pass this year, but you'd better take her to Barcelona for your next anniversary."
The Doctor made himself move, knowing that if he visibly reacted to Lucy's words, the Master would get suspicious. They finished cleaning the floor and then he sat at the table and ate lunch without tasting a single bite of it.
When he was done eating and a guard had taken the empty tray, the Doctor bent over, put his elbows on his knees, and rested his head in his hands. Was it even possible that Rose was still alive? If it was anyone but the Master, he'd never believe it. But the man was as brilliant as he was sadistic—if anyone could come up with a way to block a marriage bond, it would be him. And nothing would amuse him more than watching the Doctor grieve, knowing all the while that Rose wasn't actually dead.
Unbidden, a line from one of their favourite films came to the Doctor. "Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords."
It was actually one of the lines he had helped William Goldman write. The author had been struggling to find the perfect description of true love that would give Buttercup strength and, remembering the stories he'd read of marriage bonds, the Doctor had suggested the idea of love as an unbreakable bond. It fit so well with Westley's earlier claim, "Death cannot stop true love," that Goldman had been thrilled.
In the end, it was the actual words Lucy had used that convinced him. They echoed Tim perfectly. That, combined with the very personal reference to their first anniversary and his continually thwarted plans to return to Barcelona, slowly convinced him that it was real.
The Doctor rubbed his hands over his face and let out a breathless laugh. Rose was alive. Rose was alive.
oOoOoOoOo
Martha stood on the forecastle of the cargo ship leaving New York Harbour. For once, she didn't have to hide—at least, not yet. The cargo company this ship belonged to was owned by a member of the American Underground who had managed to hold onto his business during the Master's regime.
She took a deep breath of the sea breeze, remembering another trip across this same body of water. In the city's timeline, it had been 70 years since she'd been there last. For her, it had been eighteen months. Staring at the Statue of Liberty, she felt a glimmer of hope that freedom might still be possible for humanity. The year was almost over. The time of reckoning was at hand.