She watched him leave, brown coat flapping behind him as he walked back to the TARDIS. She hated that it felt like goodbye. But that was life with the Doctor – one long sequence of hello and goodbye and hello again.

He was worth it.

Rose sighed and raked a hand back through her untidy hair again. She almost laughed as she remembered how self-conscious about her appearance she used to be. Even traveling with him. Especially traveling with him.

As it was now, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd actually dyed her hair. Not since before she lived on Gallifrey, really…

The intercom crackled to life again. "Director Tyler, please report to the Control Room. Repeat: Director Tyler…"

That snapped her back to reality. It had all seemed like some weird dream inside the TARDIS: herself, both versions of the Doctor, and her children together. So strange.

But that was what she got for loving a time traveler. Life no longer moved in a linear pattern.

Hell, life wasn't going to be moving in any sort of pattern unless she got her ass up to the control room. Wearily, she turned and headed towards the lift.

Daleks. It would be Daleks.

……………………………………………………………………….

The Doctor was silent, his hand still pressed against Rose's back, keeping her in place behind the spaceship. They both watched Rose-Two sigh to herself and walk away as soon as she heard the announcement.

Director Tyler? Director of what?

What the hell was going on?

"Doctor?" she whispered as softly as she could. When he didn't answer, she risked a look at him.

He was still staring at the spot Rose-Two had vacated, eyes wide but blank of expression. "Doctor," she said again, "what's going on?"

Still he didn't respond.

Rose laid a hand on his leather-clad shoulder and squeezed gently. "Doctor, please…" she pleaded.

He shook himself and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what's happening."

"That was me," Rose said. "That woman, that was me."

"A future you, I think," he said, and there was a strange tone to his voice.

Rose swallowed nervously before asking the second part of her question. "And…the man?"

"I didn't recognize him." He looked away from her, a small muscle in his jaw twitching.

"She called him 'Doctor'," Rose persisted. "But that's not you. That man, he wasn't you. Is it just some kind of title that's passed on?"

He shook his head. "No, just me."

"Then who was he and why'd she call him Doctor?"

He exhaled a long, slow breath and rested his forehead against the cool metal of the spaceship. "I don't know."

"You're lying."

"Rose…"

She grabbed his free hand. "Doctor, I can tell when you're lying to me and you're lying now. If you think you're protecting me from something…don't worry. I can take it."

He studied her face for a long moment, the smiled softly, though it didn't completely reach his eyes. "Rose Tyler," he said. "You really are extraordinary."

"You have no idea how true that is," said a voice from behind them.

They both shot to their feet and spun around. Rose stared, open-mouthed, at the tall man standing before them. He was leaning casually against the hull of another spaceship, looking like the world's biggest anachronism; dressed in almost Victorian garb with a long, green velvet frock coat and shoulder-length curly brown hair, he stood out in stark contrast with the sleek silver spaceships.

He caught her eye, and smiled widely at her. There was something oddly familiar about the man's clear-blue eyes and the way he smiled.

"Hello, Rose," the man said.

"Erm…hi?" she said uncertainly, glancing to the Doctor for reassurance.

The Doctor was staring at the stranger like he knew him, but wasn't happy to see him. "You shouldn't be doing this," he said, a note of warning to his voice.

The stranger cocked his head slightly. "Crabby in our old age, aren't we?"

"I've already seen too much," the Doctor said, ignoring that statement. "Just now, I saw another one. You know what can happen, what this can cause."

"Nothing worse than what's already happening," the man said, shrugging.

Rose shifted her weight and spoke up uneasily. "The Daleks, you mean?" she asked.

The Doctor and the stranger both looked at her, the stranger smiling widely. "Clever girl! But, no. Well, yes. Sort of. They're only part of it. Or maybe the cause of it, but that's what we need you," he pointed to the Doctor, "to help us figure out."

Before the Doctor had a chance to respond, they were interrupted by a triumphant yelp. "I'm a bloody genius!" the skinny man from earlier cried, leaping into view and punching the stranger on the arm in exuberance.

"Yes, I know," said the stranger dryly.

The skinny man scowled at him, tugging off a pair of eyeglasses and tucking them into his pinstriped pocket. Then he grinned widely and bit maniacally. Spreading his arms, he said, "What are we in a landing bay full of?"

"Spaceships, yes, I know." The stranger crossed his arms.

The skinny man arched his eyebrow and tilted his head. "Ah, but not just any old spaceships. These are Farristellian spaceships."

Beside Rose, the Doctor's ears perked up a bit. "Farristellian?" he echoed.

The skinny man seemed to acknowledge their presence for the first time. He stared at the Doctor, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Oh," he said. "Come to join the party, then?"

"Not by choice," the Doctor said.

"How'd he get here?" The skinny man asked the stranger. "And why've we got another Rose running around? No offense," he said turning to her and smiling warmly. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if the universe was full of Roses…god, that was a terrible pun, I'm sorry…regardless, lovely to have you here, really. Just…"

"Why?" the stranger finished. "The temporal flux is getting worse."

"You're telling me," the skinny man said, "if it's drawing in alternate versions of the TARDIS and me…oi, where were you lot headed?"

"Colony of Marius," the Doctor said, frowning.

The skinny man frowned. "Funny, I don't remember going there."

"You don't remember a lot of things," the stranger said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, neither does he," the skinny man nodded his head at the Doctor.

"Remember what?" the Doctor interjected.

The skinny man blinked at him, then grinned. "Oh, you know. The usual things you forget. Wife and kids, that sort of thing."

The Doctor stared. "I haven't got a wife and kids."

The skinny man raised both his eyebrows. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I don't have a wife and kids," the Doctor repeated.

The skinny man pointed to the stranger. "He has."

Rose felt the Doctor's hand go rigid in her own. He looked at the stranger as if he'd suddenly grown another arm out of that green frock coat. "How the hell have you got a wife and kids?"

The stranger looked a bit sheepish. "Well…"

"Oi!" Rose shouted, stepping out from behind the Doctor. "I don't care who's got a wife and bloody kids! Anyone remember the big mess of Daleks out there?" She pointed towards the edge of the landing bay. "Remember? Daleks? Big ugly pepper pots with a nasty temper and big pointy laser guns on 'em?"

The three of them stared at her. The skinny one shoved his hands inside his brown coat pockets and looked at the Doctor. "You can't leave. We're locked in here now."

"But the potential paradox…" the Doctor sighed.

The stranger shrugged. "In about twelve hours it won't matter any longer. Something's gone wrong with the Time War. It's being rewritten, but not correctly. There's a temporal flux in the midst of that Dalek fleet and it's not only going to bring about the destruction of Earth, it'll bring about the end of everything."

The skinny man nodded his agreement. "We need you." He looked at Rose. "Both of you. I don't know how this will rewrite our history when it's done, but what does that matter as long as we have a history, eh?"

The Doctor looked from them to Rose and back again. "Why her?" he asked, voice tight.

The other two exchanged a look. "Now…that's a bit of a long story, there." The skinny man asked, wincing slightly.

…………………………………………………………………………

The doors slid shut behind Rose as she stepped into the Control Room. Not for the first time, Rose wondered why they couldn't have designed the place with a bit more flare. It could be more Spock and a bit less haphazard. As it was, she'd take anything above Satellite Five/Gamestation.

"Right," she said, stepping forward. "How are we doing, Diana?"

Diana Goddard, former assistant to Henry Van Statten, looked up from her computer and shook her head. "The fleet's got something blocking our sensor equipment. We can get only the roughest visual data."

"Any word from the Prime Ambassador?"

"Not yet," Goddard said. "But there's a United Nations shuttle landing in two minutes with Harriet Jones on board."

"Right, get me a channel to the Weapon Station," Rose said.

"Open."

"Jack, can you read me?" She asked, raising her voice slightly.

"Loud and clear, Rose," Jack Harkness's voice crackled back over the radio.

She bit her lip in thought. "How's it looking?"

"Not great," Jack admitted. "I don't think we're going to have enough fire power to wipe out more than a third of the fleet. That if we're lucky."

"Shit," Rose cursed. "Any way to boost power?"

"Working on it, I'll let you know as soon as we have an answer. Weapon Station out."

There was a beeping from Goddard's consol and she pressed a button. "Incoming message from the Prime Ambassador."

"Visual?" Rose asked.

"Voice only," Goddard replied.

"Director Tyler," came Sarah-Jane's smooth voice over the radio. "The Farristellian Consulate wishes me to notify you that they're extending any and all financial and material support they can muster. At this time, though, a similar attack is happening around Farristell, and the consulate is unable to offer any military support."

Rose closed her eyes and ran through every curse word she could think of in her head. "Understood," she said. "Switch to private line," she said to Goddard, as she picked up a receiver from the desk.

Goddard nodded. "Sarah-Jane? We're on a private line."

"Goodness, Rose, are you okay? Are the children alright? Can you get them to safety?"

Rose smiled, swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat. "We're all okay, yeah. Got a bit of situation, though, aside from the Daleks."

"What do you mean?" Sarah-Jane's voice sharpened.

"We're out of time," Rose said, using their private code for 'Something's Gone Wrong With Time And Only Doctor Can Fix It Because We Stupid Apes Have No Bloody Clue What He's Gone And Done'.

Sarah-Jane sighed audibly. "How bad is it?"

Rose nearly laughed. "Take as bad as it could possibly be –"

"-and add another suitcase of bad on top of it," Sarah-Jane finished, a note of wearily resigned amusement in her voice. "What can I do?"

"Nothing, Sarah-Jane. I don't even know what's going on. The Daleks are the least of our worries, and until he figures it out, we're just buying him time." Rose rubbed the bridge of her nose.

There was a pause. "I think I can help with that. Give me an hour."

"The Daleks will be inside our secondary defense ring by then," Rose pointed out. "That'll leave them only ten minutes from Torchwood and another five from Weapon Station."

"Trust me, Rose," she said.

Rose smiled. "I do, Sarah-Jane. I do."

…………………………………………………………………..

Rose smiled gingerly at the young girl with pigtails. The little girl smiled back, then ran off to hide behind the boy that was apparently her older brother. The boy sighed in exasperation and ushered the little girl into a different room.

Rose looked around and tried to wrap her head around what was going on. They were inside a TARDIS, but it wasn't her TARDIS. Definitely not the same ship. This one was very smart on the inside, almost like a cathedral, only with space-age technology built in. It was absolutely beautiful.

She shifted her weight in the overstuffed Victorian chair. The Doctor had all but told her to sit still and stay quiet. He'd promised her an explanation once it was all over with, but she was beginning to feel that the explanation would never come.

The two men they'd met earlier stood around the TARDIS control panel, pointing at different bits and murmuring to each other. Eight and Ten, they'd told her to call them. When she'd asked them why, Ten had shrugged and said it was her idea.

The other her, she was guessing. Rose-Two.

God, her head hurt.

Gently, she eased herself out of the chair, careful not to attract the Doctor's attention. She couldn't just sit still, though, like a good little girl. That just wasn't in her nature.

Rose crossed her arms, wishing she'd worn a jacket with her t-shirt this time. It wasn't chilly in the TARDIS, but she felt cold nonetheless. She risked a glance back over at the three men. Who were the other two? One had a TARDIS, so didn't that mean he was another Time Lord?

He'd mentioned something about the Time War, too…the war in which the Doctor's people had all been killed. But he'd said something had gone wrong, and he was here with his TARDIS, so…he had to be another Time Lord, right?

So then who was the other one? Ten? Rose-Two had called him 'Doctor'.

There was a doorway a little to her left. She could see flickering candlelight inside. Intrigued, she walked closer to it, and slid silently inside.

It was a small little alcove of a room, with a sort of mantelpiece decorated in candles and what looked like family photographs. Some of the photos were old-fashioned, some were modern, and some looked like little holograms in frames. Appropriate for a Time Lord and family, she supposed.

Looking at them, she saw several of the two children she'd met earlier. Also quite a bit of the man in the frock coat – Eight – and what looked like Rose-Two. Was that a wedding picture, there? She'd gotten married to a different Time Lord?

Nice dress, though, she thought, picking up the picture and looking at it. Rose-Two looked so genuinely happy, it made her smile. But still…she couldn't imagine time traveling with anyone but the Doctor, even if she did fall in love with someone else.

Was this not her future, then? Was it some sort of…alternate reality or parallel dimension or something like that?

She set the wedding photo back on in its place and looked at the rest of the pictures. There was one of Rose-Two with Ten. They were both grinning and holding hands. Rose-Two's hair was a bit blonder, like her own hair right now, but it was shorter, framing her face.

If Rose-Two was married to Eight – to Mr. Victorian Elegance out there – then what did pinstriped Ten have to do with anything? That conversation she and the Doctor had eavesdropped on earlier…it had seemed that the two of them had some sort of romantic past.

Rose sighed. Maybe this alternate version of herself was a bit more like her father. Duffel coats and that.

That was a depressing thought.

There was some sort of book on the end of the mantel. It looked like an album of sorts. Curiously, Rose picked it up and began to look through it.

She blinked. There, on the first page, was a picture of herself and the Doctor. She remembered this photo – it was just after Platform One. They'd gone back to London and he'd asked if she still wanted to travel with him (of course she'd told him yes). They went out for chips and then Rose had bought a cheap little camera, saying that if she was going on "the trip of a lifetime", then it should be documented.

She remembered asking a random stranger to take their picture, as they stood in front of the London Eye (their first date, she'd called it jokingly) pretending to be tourists. The Doctor had laughed, and it was the first time she remembered hearing him really laugh.

Like he was happy.

Just below the photograph was a note, written in a handwriting she recognized as her own. It said "Our first date. He still owes me for the chips."

Flipping through the pages, there were more photographs of her and the Doctor, some of which she recognized, others she didn't. Then there were pictures of her and the man in the pinstriped suit. And in the back of the book were photos of her, Eight, and those two children.

Slowly, she went back through the pages, reading the notes in the margins. It began to piece together a story; one she would never have believed if it hadn't made a sort of sense. It was impossible, strange, and illogical, but…somehow it just seemed to fit.

They were all the same man. Eight, Ten, and the Doctor. They were one and the same.

They were the Doctor.

Rose closed her eyes, feeling weak. It couldn't be true, but it had to be. It was the only thing that made sense with everything that had been going on; everything that had been said earlier. She knew that you could stumble across different versions of yourself, cross your own timeline, as the Doctor put it.

They'd done it back in 1987, and they'd obviously done it again, though unintentionally.

But how? How could he be the same man when he looked totally different?

"Rose?"

She looked up at the Doctor's voice. He must've seen something in her face, because his expression changed. "Rose…" he began.

"So, then," she swallowed. "What number are you?"

………………………………………………………………………

TBC