This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

Chapter 6

Beakers careened across the room but did not satisfy. Victor grabbed the work table and heaved. Everything tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.

How did a mere human best him—standing there, making him look like an utter fool before his subjects? He ought to have killed her right then, but the girl commandeered his physiological responses like some rampant infection.

Why did she volunteer herself? Didn't she know she and Ayaliah were both dead now? Or was this some twisted way to punish him for calling her his consort? What about her swooning heart so desperate to get back to her lost love? Or her noble quest to save the universe? Was she that determined to show him up that she'd sacrifice herself to do it?

Shards crunched under his shoes. His gaze fell to the tangle of wire and jumbled equipment. What did it matter? Was this no less than she deserved? Fretting over a servant was hardly a worthwhile use of his time.

And this was his way out. Let her die in the arena and he'd prove to everyone that she was nothing to him. His credibility would be restored. Let her die and the only one with the potential to exert power over his timeline would be gone; his name would be kept secret. He could figure out this darkness matter himself.

This fixed everything … didn't it? Then why did he feel so … so …

He ground his teeth and stomped from the room.

The salty stench of sweat hung in the air as Victor descended the stairs into the sparring area. Several mats spread over the floor of the massive circular room. Benches lined the perimeter of each mini-arena.

Rose stood with her back to him while she attacked a post with a rapier instead of an opponent—another technicality she'd use to excuse her behavior, no doubt. She'd traded her gown for light-colored trousers and protective padding. As if such flimsy armor could save her from the teeth and talons of 'Thet.

The sound of clanging metal subsided as the competitors took notice. He jerked his head and they dropped their gear and hurried out.

It only took a moment for Rose to realize the room had gone quiet. She spun around and pulled off her helmet with a flick of her neck. Waves of yellow tresses tumbled out, wayward strands matted to the sides of her face.

"Why?" he shouted. "Why do this?"

"Why not?" She hiked up her helmet under her arm.

"Is this some petty vendetta of yours? Some way to make me angry?"

"What? No." Rose tossed her helmet and sword to the floor. "I'm doing this 'cause it's the right thing to do. I'm not letting someone else die 'cause I decided on a whim to snog someone."

There she went again with her 'right' and 'wrong' and 'good' and 'bad'. He should have known it was her humanity that drove her to such stupidity. "And what of the darkness and your original task, hm? What happens when you lose?"

She wiped her forehead. "Then you'll stop it for me."

"That it then? You don't care in the least that you're going to die?"

Rose didn't answer.

"How can you just stand there?" His nails bit into his palms. "You're the most frustrating, foolish, backwards being I have ever encountered!"

She huffed and placed a hand on her hip. "Oi! It's not my fault you've got barbaric rules in this ruddy place."

"You brought this upon yourself! The colosseum rules were never meant to apply to one of your classifi—"

"But that's just it. You keep classifying us and tagging us like we're things, but we're not toys. We're people. And the rules are just a symptom of a bigger problem."

The red clouded the corners of his vision as the beginnings of a neural implosion stabbed at his temples. "And what's that, exactly?"

Her expression softened and she closed the space between them. "You are amazing. There's nothing you can't do. And if you wanted to stop this, you could. One word, and this all ends. 'Cause it shouldn't be cold-hearted rules and gotchas that allow for a woman to see her loved ones again. That oughta come from here." Her hands rested on both his hearts. "Don't you get it? The only thing standing in your way is yourself."

His anger drained as though she'd yanked the cord to his power supply. He swallowed. "I can't save you from this, Rose."

"I never asked you to." She cupped his face and brushed her thumb along the stubble of his jaw. "'Cause I'm not the one who needs saving."

He ought to push her hand away, but he didn't. "This isn't what I wanted." As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. Liability or not, he wanted her to live.

"I know." She dropped her hand. "And I'm sorry it's gotta be this way. I can't promise you that I won't stop trying to help people if I survive. It's just who I am." She stepped around him. "Gotta go. Need some rest before the match."

He spun to call to her, but half a second later, her blonde hair disappeared up the steps.

One by one, Victor placed the tubes back inside the cooler unit on the lab table. It had taken hours to restore the room after his tantrum. Menial work, granted, but better than watching a mismatched slaughter-fest.

Each passing second drummed in his head like some final countdown. He tugged off his gloves and pinched the bridge of his nose. How did this happen? The Lord of Time, reduced to nothing but a glorified clock.

Three knocks sounded against the door. The table jostled against his hip, tubes tinkling against one another. His stomach overturned.

Rose never knocked.

That heaviness returned, bearing down on him with each step toward the double doors. He gripped the knobs and pulled them back.

Sikah held out a tray and bowed. "Your scheduled sustenance, my Lord."

A long breath hissed through Victor's teeth as he leaned into the door frame for support. By the Eternals, he thought …

Then there was still time.

His legs propelled him past a bewildered Sikah and down the corridor. Rose was right; he could stop this. Let the consequences fall where they may.

Few servants roamed the halls. Most of them were probably in the audience at that very moment, chanting for her blood.

By Rassilon!

He ran through the grand archway and darted to the left. Excited chatter spilled through the open stairwells as he sprinted up the graded perimeter of the colosseum. Air burned in his lungs. He rounded the next level, then the next. The heavy doors clanged against the wall as he barreled into the officiator's box.

"Stop the match!" he shouted to a room full of shocked servants.

An obese officiator in decadent robes blanched, his deep blue skin turning a sickly purple. "My apologies, my Lord, but the match has just ended. The winner has already been declared."

Everything around him decelerated, then stopped. He was too late; Rose was gone.

An inner discomfort spread to his lungs and clenched. His breath came out a ragged wheeze. Pain? Perhaps he was more attached to that nettlesome little flower than he realized, thorns and all.

"My Lord," someone said behind him.

Victor spun around.

The plump man waved to his left and stepped to the side."I present the victorious one."

Rose.

Bits of shredded armor clung to her at odd angles, her left eye swollen shut, but by the stars, she was alive.

In three strides, Victor crossed the room. He caught himself and forced his hands into fists down by his sides. "Are you damaged?" he asked as impartially as he could manage.

"You say that like I'm a piece of furniture, but I'm fine, thanks." She rubbed at her right shoulder which hung lower than the other. "He was just toying with me anyway. If he thought I was a real threat he would have never let it go on so long. He won't be making that mistake again any time soon."

"You didn't end him?"

Rose put on that smug smile she used when she thought she knew something he didn't. "What would be the point of that? After all, the terms were specific. The agreement was that if I bested 'Thet Ayaliah goes free. I said nothing about killing him."

He scoffed. She'd slipped one right past him—again. "Come. Let's see to your injuries."

"Wait." Rose limped forward and slung her good arm across the other. "Not until you honor our bargain."

"Your shoulder is dislocated. You need medical atten—"

"I'll be fine," she said through her gritted teeth. She peered down at the arena, her brows drawn together.

He followed her line of vision and saw Ayaliah chained to a post at the back of the fighting area. The woman stood at the sight of him and grabbed hold of the post with shaking hands. 'Thet was nowhere to be seen. Probably off nursing his ego and plotting his revenge.

The audience quieted and looked up at him in expectation.

He cursed under his breath. Never would he have agreed to Rose's terms if he thought she'd succeed. No slave had ever been freed. Now he could either honor the agreement, or demean his own authority by going back on his word. Either outcome would irreparably damage his reputation.

"You should have let me tend this an hour ago," Victor said he raked the light of the screwdriver across the purple blotch that had formed along Rose's left eye socket. "You'd be healed by now."

Rose grimaced and adjusted her position on the edge of the console. "You know why I couldn't."

"Because you're a stubborn human with a proclivity for living dangerously?" He traced the outline of her bruise with this thumb.

She winced. "I had to be sure you were really gonna do it."

"Well don't expect me to fall for that again." His screwdriver hummed once more. "That was a one time thing."

Rose placed her fingertips along the back of his wrist and he stopped the beam. "Why didn't you come?" she asked. "According to the others, you never miss a high-stakes match."

He pulled his hand out from hers and fiddled with the settings on his screwdriver. "I had business to attend."

"You were worried." Half of her mouth curved into a smile. "Bit humany of you, don't you think?"

"Humany?" He slipped his laser into his pocket. "I don't like my things getting broken, Rose. Certainly not a rarity like you."

"Yeah, right." She leaned back against the center column and dangled her feet like some school girl in an over-sized chair.

He circled around the console and flipped a random notch on the mechanical panel. "And how did you survive anyway?" he asked without bothering to mask his irritation. "You should be in pieces."

"Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence."

"I'm serious, Rose."

She pulled a stray strand of hair out of her face. "It's simple. He was counting on the standard approach, so I waited until the right moment and surprised him."

"Surprised him how?"

"Let's just say I used my wit instead of my brawn."

"Fine, don't tell me. But never do anything like that again." He pointed at her. "You're not to set foot in the sparring area or the colosseum. No caveats."

"Thanks, by the way."

He blinked, his hand still in mid-air. "For what?"

"For doing the right thing. For letting Ayaliah go."

That again? "It wasn't about right or wrong. I didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice." Rose slid to her feet and caught him around the middle. He stiffened but she pulled him closer. "I know you tried to stop the match," she said into his shoulder. "Thanks for that too." Warmth pressed against his cheek, then she pulled away.

He tottered in place while the double doors clicked shut behind him. What just happened?

Rose Tyler—half the time he didn't know whether to feel pleased or outraged at her crazy antics. Perhaps at the end of a very long day, he should just be content to have her alive.