A/N: Please note I've added a warning for explicit language for this chapter. Turns out Mr Stones is a foul-mouthed little dirtbag. (The warning may be overkill, but better safe than sorry.)

The Price to be Paid

"You stupid cunt! Did you really think you could just walk away like that?" Once the dim, reflected light from the entrance tunnel was illuminating Jimmy, rather than being blocked by him, it showed his German Army uniform's inherent spiffiness was losing the battle against his seedy, cut-rate desperation. A sharp eye could even pick out the telltale marks of a recent reduction in rank: pinholes around his embroidered insignia betrayed that a larger one – with more stripes – had been replaced by the current singleton.

He slouched across the burial crypt to threaten Rose with his small revolver, holding it out at arm's length as if that made it deadlier. A foot scrape betrayed Jared's attempt to shift closer, and Jimmy swung that arm wildly around to cast the threat over all. "Get back! Over there, you!" Both men had the presence of mind to step slightly in front of Jackie as they shuffled back a step in response; no use in her presence muddying up the poor man's already dense mind further.

"What are you talking about, Jimmy?" Rose drew his attention back away from the other three. "I didn't walk away from you."

"Schultz wants you back, God knows why. He could have any stupid bottle-blonde cunt singer he wants, but he wants you. So he gets you." Rose would have felt a whole lot safer if he didn't have the habit of emphasizing every other word with a sharp stab of the gun at her head. "You are not going to ruin my career!"

That diverted her from the gun, and she gaped at him. "Your career?" She spluttered, flabbergasted, shaking her head. "Not much of a career, is it, if it depends on somebody else's bed staying warm. You know what?" she went on, realizing the depth of the truth even as it came from her mouth. "You are absolutely pathetic, Jimmy Stones, in any universe. Look at you. Your entire C.V. consists of getting one foolish teenage girl drunk so she unknowingly betrays her own parents – and then 'providing' her to your own commanding officer. You know what that makes you, Jimmy?" She leaned in close to deliver the punch line, imbuing it with all the disgust she felt for both versions of the worm. "A one trick pimp!"

In retrospect, she probably should have seen it coming. His other hand came flying up from his side to backhand her hard across the face. As the force of it knocked her sideways, Jared took a quick step forward again, only to be stopped once more by the pistol whipping back around. He didn't step back this time, his narrowing eyes promising a painful retribution as soon as chance allowed.

Jimmy kept the gun pointing at the other three as he turned his head back to look at his former girlfriend – and he suddenly focused in on her now-bared neck. His free hand grabbed at it (Rose was getting heartily tired of being throttled), keeping her head pushed to the side. "Where's my brand, you little cunt? I know you couldn't... Oh!" His eyes cleared as the realization sunk in. "You're not Rose. You're that bitch double they were talking about. Well maybe I should give you a brand, too, to teach you to keep your filthy mouth shut, and make you a matched set."

Pete couldn't stay silent at that. "You mean you're the one who gave Rose that scar?"

Jimmy turned and glared triumphantly across the chamber, his face twisted and ugly. "I brand everything that's mine, Pops. Now you.. shut... up."

Rose slapped his hand off her neck, standing up straight again to give him her coldest stare. It didn't phase him. He brought the gun back once more and put it right up against her temple. "Where's the other cunt, then, huh? Where is she? You're both going back to the General. He should like that, having both of you in his bed. But maybe I should break you in first, like I did her. Huh? Should I do that, bitch? Break you in and give you a matching scar?" He took the last step towards her, and she shifted her feet, getting ready to do him in like she'd done the last soldier who'd threatened her.

Then her eyes flickered towards the entrance for a moment, and she relaxed slightly, and almost smiled. "I don't think so, Jimmy."

He started to scoff, reaching for her again, when from behind him came another voice, hard and intense. "Jimmy!"

He reacted instantly, as a street rat would, whirling around only to stop dead, goggling.

Rose Tyler stood in the doorway, her watch dangling from one finger as she held the General's pistol in both hands, aiming it straight at Jimmy Stones' black heart.

The pistol roared.

The impact threw Stones hard against the wall where he hung for a moment, gaping at the girl he thought he'd utterly cowed years before. His knees slowly buckled, and he slid down the wall and sat, hard. His gun had gone flying from his hand and skidded, clattering, across the stone floor.

Rose took three long strides halfway across the room and stopped, making sure she had his attention. "That was for Mum," she told him, her voice raw and ragged.

And then, "And this is for me!" And the pistol roared again.

His body jerked once as the second bullet hit his chest – and it was all over. Jimmy Stones was dead.

Shuddering, gasping, Rose slowly lowered the gun – and suddenly Pete was there beside her, taking the pistol from her nerveless fingers. She wrenched her eyes away from the bloody heap to her father's face and whimpered, "Daddy?"

"Oh, baby!" And he gathered up his soul-wounded child and held her close.