"'Potentially' problematic?" The Doctor echoed.
"Yes," his other self replied. "Though, I suppose without the 'potentially' bit."
Rose was still looking back and forth between them, obviously at a loss. "I don't understand," she said. "What's going on? This isn't meant to happen."
"Change in plans, love," the Doctor in her arms said, looking up at her.
"You're hurt," she said softly to him, running a hand gently down his cheek, and the current Doctor tried valiantly to not be jealous of himself.
He stepped over to them and offered his hand to the him on the floor. Rose's eyes widened. "Shouldn't you not do that?"
"Do what?" The eighth him asked as he took the offered hand up.
"That," she said weakly.
"Not a big deal for me," the Doctor said, brushing a bit of rubble off his earlier self, who nodded in thanks. "See, that's one of the reasons regeneration came about in the first place. We are the same person, but we're not the same matter…it minimizes the risk of a dangerous paradox."
"I've done this before," the eighth Doctor said, helping Rose to her feet. "Although last time there were considerably more of me."
"Five, in fact. It was weird. We ended up saving the day, but spent most of the time criticizing wardrobe choices."
"Gracious, some of the things I wore…"
"Like that bloody scarf."
"I miss that scarf."
"I was always tripping over it, though."
"Yes, but it was a fantastic scarf."
"Yeah, it was."
"Good heavens, do you remember that clown jacket?"
"Oh, that thing was hideous. I do miss that haircut, though."
"Oi!" Rose shouted. "Can we get back to the problem at hand, please?"
"There's no need to shout, darling," the eighth Doctor said.
She stared at him like he'd just grown antennae out of his forehead. Before either version of himself had a chance to respond, the landing bay doors slid open, a small voice cried "Daddy!" and the eighth Doctor was knocked back to the floor again as a tiny shape in a frilly skirt and pigtails leaped onto him.
"Muffin!" he cried happily.
The current Doctor's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "'Muffin'?" he mouthed at Rose, who laughed and shook her head.
The boy he'd met earlier in the hallway skidded to a halt next to Rose, who put an hand on his shoulder. The boy, panting for breath, looked back and forth between the eighth and tenth versions of his father and gaped.
"Oh, that's not good," he said.
"'Ello, Jamie," his father said, voice muffled by the lump of six-year-old currently fastened round his neck.
"Hello, Dad," Jamie said. He looked over to the other Doctor. "Hello, Dad," he repeated.
"Hello, son," the Doctor said weakly.
……………………………………………………………
Jamie entered a few sequences into the TARDIS computer and brought up the holographic display.
The eighth Doctor's TARDIS, actually, not his. His was still down on the surface by the abandoned Powell Estate. He'd briefly considered transmatting back down to confront his TARDIS and demand to know what she thought she was doing.
He'd never get a straight answer, though. He never did. The TARDIS could translate any alien language in existence except her own.
If she even had a language.
Rose hovered over Eight (as she'd started calling him, much to his irritation) with a few medical supplies. Gwyneth was helping her, pigtails bouncing as she hopped up and down from her chair to fetch things for her mum.
Jack had come back with the children and had ushered them all into the TARDIS so they could figure out what was going on. He seemed a bit irritated with both versions of the Doctor for being completely nonplussed about causing a potential paradox.
For all his carefree attitude, Jack had always fretted a bit overmuch about the finer points of time travel. Which was a bit ridiculous when the circumstances of their first meeting was considered.
Time Agents. He'd never understand them.
"There," said Jamie as the holographic generator settled in on a three-dimensional representation of space-time fabric. "Look, here, I think I found the problem."
Clever lad, the Doctor thought proudly. Gwyneth looked at her brother, then up at the display, band aid forgotten in her hand. "That one bit's gone all funny," she said, pointing. "It's making all the other bits go funny as well."
Everyone looked at her, and both versions of the Doctor grinned. Clever girl, too.
"What's it mean?" Rose asked.
The two Doctors exchanged glances. "All yours," said his eighth self.
He nodded at the other him and looked up at the holographic display. "It means something's gone wrong. Something happened in the Time War that wasn't meant to happen."
"Like what?" Jack asked.
The Doctor shrugged. "My memories aren't all that clear, and that version of me over there wouldn't be aware of the difference, not having lived it before."
"Okay, now…what's wrong with your memories again?" Jack frowned. "I didn't get that part."
He shrugged. "It could be any number of things, really. I'm betting it has something to do with my regenerations. I lost my memory briefly when I regenerated into that handsome fellow over there –" he gestured to Eight, who grinned " – because of an anesthetic that had dulled my sense. Nearly killed me, it did."
"Seriously?" Jack asked.
Eight nodded. "Indeed. I awoke in a San Francisco hospital morgue on New Year's Eve 1999 with absolutely no idea who I was."
"Grace still giggles about the toe-tag," Rose snorted.
The Doctors looked at each other. "She's met Grace?"
The other Doctor smiled. "Oh, yes."
He blinked in surprise. "How long were you in the doghouse?"
"With Grace or Rose?"
"Either."
Eight winced. "A while."
"We're friends now," Rose grinned. "Best mates, even."
The Doctors looked at each other again and shrugged. "Women," they said in unison.
"Anyway," Jamie interrupted. "Getting on with it…" He punched a few more switches and the holograph zoomed in. "Look what I just found."
The Doctor took a step forward. "Oh, no."
Eight stood and set Gwyneth down from her perch on his knee. "That isn't good," he said.
"Jack," the Doctor said over his shoulder, "can you transmat my TARDIS up here to the landing bay?"
Jack nodded and headed out of the ship.
Rose frowned. "What is it? What's going on?"
"There isn't really a name for it," the Doctor said, "other than Very Very Extremely Monumentally Terribly Insanely Bad."
"No, there is a name for it," Jamie said, looking at him. He had such old, wise eyes for a such a young boy.
Just like his father.
Rose looked at him questioningly, and he in turn looked to his previous self, who shook his head. "It's a human word," he said in his soft, upper-class voice, "but you're right, Jamie, I think it applies."
"What's that?" asked Rose.
"Armageddon," he said grimly.
……………………………………………………………………………
"Rose, I said hold the other one down."
The TARDIS controls sparked. "No, you didn't, you said hold the green one down!"
"That is the green one!" the Doctor protested.
"No, that's the green one over there. This one is clearly blue," she argued.
"It is not! It's…oh, it is blue. Alright, then, hold the blue one down!" he grinned insanely at her and she shook her head in disbelief.
"This is ridiculous. Nine hundred years old and you couldn't have taken a few piloting classes?"
"Oi! I'll have you know I got top marks at the Academy for my piloting skills." He tugged frantically at a few switches and oddments plastered onto the consol, which sparked again.
"You went to an Academy? What'd you do, cheat your way through it, then?" Rose snorted, attempting to steady herself by extending one leg behind her and bracing it on the railing.
"You think you're funny, Rose Tyler, but you're really not," he said in a fake haughty voice, reminding her of an incident in a recent adventure and she laughed. The Great Havornaidaldobiallian had asked her to tell jokes, after all. Not her fault they were obviously only funny to humans.
Suddenly an alarm began to sound and the Doctor's head snapped up. "What in hell?"
He looked panicked, which made Rose panic. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he replied, and she really wished he hadn't said that. That never boded well. "Something's wrong with our path through the Vortex, but that shouldn't happen…"
The alarm blared louder and a second alarm began to sound on top of it. The TARDIS began to shake uncontrollably. "Rose!" he shouted. "Grab something and hang on!"
She tumbled to the grating just as he did, and threw one arm out to grab the bottom of the sparking consol. There was a terrible tearing noise, and Rose felt as if someone had taken a knife to her eardrums.
She lost her grip with the final shudder of the TARDIS, sliding across the grating and into the railing, which she grabbed onto in just enough time to keep her from falling into the machinery bits below.
After a long, dazed moment, the TARDIS finally seemed to be stable. She lifted her head and looked over at the Doctor, who was slowly getting to his feet.
"You alright?" he asked, offering her a hand up.
She took it and stood, checking herself gingerly for injuries. "Bit of a bruise on my rump, but otherwise I'm alright, I think. What was that?"
"I don't know," he said again. "I've never felt anything like that."
"There was a tearing sound, did you hear it?"
He nodded, face tight. "Yeah, I did."
"Was it the TARDIS?" she asked, concerned.
"No," he answered, walking over to the monitor and pulling up a screen full of data. "I don't know what it was, but it can't be good. We've landed somewhere, though."
"Where? And when?" Rose rotated her left foot. Her ankle was a bit sore, but she didn't think she'd damaged it much.
"Space station in high orbit around Earth…looks like the year 2074." He was frowning darkly at the monitor, mouth drawn taught, blue eyes nearly piercing a hole in the computer screen.
"Doctor?" she asked. "You alright?"
He shook his head as if clearing it. "Yeah. No. I don't know. I just…I sense something."
"Like…telepathically or something?"
"Yeah," he looked at her. "I don't know what it is, but there's something really not right about this. Stay here."
"Not a chance," she snorted as he walked past her.
He paused at the door, looking back at her. "Alright, then, come on." He pointed a finger at her. "But no wandering off this time, and I mean that, for once. Something is very not right about all this, and if something goes wrong I want you near me, alright?"
"Alright," she smiled.
He smiled back at her as he opened the door. "Grab my jacket, would you?"
"Yep," she turned around and picked it up off the grating from where it'd fallen.
"Thanks."
"Wouldn't want you to go anywhere without your armor," she drawled, holding it up.
He slid his arms through the worn black leather and shrugged it into place. "That's right," he agreed, grinning, and held out a hand. "Let's go, then."
……………………………………………………………………………
TBC