A/N: I promised myself this would be the last chapter...but the bit I wanted to put at the end was too long. So there's an Epilogue as well. Haha!

Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

The box contained a framed photograph, a few dog-eared sheets of paper, a packet of biscuits, two half-full notebooks, a stapler, and the end of a tube of Polos. Looking down at the remains of her career, Rose felt slightly sad. The objects said almost nothing about her, yet once they were gone there would be no sign that she had ever been there.

Then again, maybe that was for the best.

Resolutely, Rose picked up the box from her now vacant desk and headed for the lifts at the other end of the floor. It was late - so late the cleaners had finished for the night and gone home. They had left a couple of lights on for late workers, but apart from that the office was dark. Shadows gathered in the corners, draped across desks and filing cabinets. It would have been spooky, if Rose was still afraid of anything that hid in the gloom.

She was halfway to the lift doors, the box balanced precariously against her hip, when a movement caught the corner of her eye. She spun round, instantly alert, but could see nothing. The empty room stretched away from her, reminding her of the late hour. Rose told herself she was just tired, and was about to turn back around when it happened again. Something was moving in the darkness. Rose welcomed the rush of adrenaline, and stuck a hand into the pocket of her coat.

"Come on then," she called, "Come out, whoever you are."

"Well, it took you long enough," came the reply, and a man stepped into view.

Rose instantly went weak; the box slipped from her fingers, contents spilling at her feet. He looked different, younger, thirties instead of late forties, with short blonde hair and a smattering of freckles on his pale cheeks. His eyes gave him away, that and his clothes - he was still wearing the black suit, and it was a bit too big for his body. It hung off him in a way that made him look like a kid dressing up in his dad's clothes. But his eyes still shone silver, out of place in his boyish face, and didn't reach his lopsided grin.

"Surprise," said Tobias.

"You regenerated." said Rose. It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway.

"Guess so." her nemesis made to step closer, but Rose brought the hand out of her pocket. Clenched in her fist was a slim metal tube with a blue light at the end.

"Don't move." she commanded, but her voice gave a treacherous quiver. She flourished the sonic screwdriver, and added, in the voice of someone who has done her homework, "It's on setting 235/B."

"I suppose that's meant to mean something?" Tobias smirked. "Where did you get that? It's so…retro."

"Oi! This is top of the range!" Rose retorted. "I made it."

"You made it?"

"Well, I designed it. The outer bit." Rose flushed. "Science did the technical. It doesn't work as well as the original, but…" she stopped. Tobias was trying to stop a smile from creeping onto his face, so she decided to try a more direct approach. "So, did you regenerate before or after the TARDIS exploded?" she asked harshly. The smirk vanished.

"After." There was no trace of fun in his voice now; Rose wished she hadn't been so cruel.

"How did you escape?"

Tobias didn't speak for a moment, and when he did, it wasn't to answer the question. "You and I, we aren't so different. We're both of us trying to survive in a strange world, doing the only thing we can to cling onto the life we knew…"

"We are nothing alike." Rose argued, knowing that he was right. It had no effect; Tobias kept talking as if he hadn't noticed the interruption.

"That's why I came here. Once Torchwood finds out I'm alive, there's no escape. They'll track me down, whatever my disguise. I need someone on the inside – which is where you come in. I thought if I could help you, you might show some mercy."

"You can't help me," said Rose forcefully. "No-one can."

"I can try." Slowly, keeping his eyes on the sonic screwdriver in her hand, Tobias crouched down and picked something up from the floor near his feet. It was the photograph that had fallen out of the box of belongings. He threw it to Rose, who caught it one-handed.

"Look at it."

Sceptically, Rose did as she was told. There were two people in the photograph, standing in front of a temple on another world. One of them was the person who made her heart clench whenever she imagined his tousled hair and twinkling eyes. The other…was her. Not the Rose she saw in the mirror each morning, who had rings under her eyes from four months of sleepless nights. Not the Rose who dragged herself through every day, wishing she was somewhere else. The pictured Rose was exactly where she wanted to be. Her eyes were shining, and there was a broad grin on her face. She looked happy.

"I can help you." Tobias said gently. Rose looked up from the photo, eyes smarting, and was surprised to see he was standing next to her. One hand was on her arm; the other was holding something out to her. It was a folded piece of paper.

Rose reached out and took it. "What's this?"

"Remember a few weeks ago, Torchwood intercepted a transmission, written in a language not even you could understand?"

"Of course," Rose looked down at the paper in her hand, realisation suddenly dawning. "You translated it?"

"Torchwood were having no luck, so I thought I'd give it a try. It's no wonder you couldn't read it; it's written in a dead language, so old it's not even a language any more. Only one person in the universe knows it."

"You?"

"Me."

"So what's the language?" asked Rose in a whisper, not daring to believe. Her hands were trembling. "Who sent it?"

"He sent it, of course." Tobias replied. "It's from the Doctor."

Rose felt her knees buckle. Tobias grabbed her, a second too late. The two of them sank to the floor.

"How?" was all she could manage. Her head was spinning.

"I don't know for sure," came Tobias's reply from far away. "I can only imagine that he was able to temporarily distort the walls between the universes, enough to get a message through. He made sure Torchwood would pick it up, but put it in another language no-one except another Time Lord could understand. I suppose he just took a gamble on you speaking Galli – Rose? Are you all right?" She was shaking in his arms.

"Bad Wolf Bay," Rose whispered. Tears were trickling down her face. "He sent a…I don't know what it was…a projection, a ghost of himself…through the rift. But he didn't finish. He ran out of time."

She knew what happened. The Doctor's last words had made it through, after all, and floated around the universe until Torchwood had grabbed them.

"He must have known there was someone over here that could translate it," she realised, looking up at him. She started to unfold the paper.

"Before you read it, there's something I need you to do for me." Tobias cut in.

"Anything," said Rose, and she meant it. She was overcome with gratitude.

"Go to this website," he scribbled something on the back of the note, "and send what you find to your Dad."

"What is it?"

"Someone's blog, witnessing my death." he explained. "Please, I'm begging you, let them think I'm dead. I'm as good as, anyway. I have no ship. This is my last regeneration. Let me disappear, and I promise you'll never hear from me again."

"Of course I will," she promised. If she'd ever had any doubts, they had gone the moment he gave her the paper. She closed her eyes.

"Thank you," whispered Tobias, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone. Rose was kneeling alone in the middle of the floor. With shaking hands, she unfolded the paper and read the three words written on it:

I love you.

Her heart rose until she thought she could fly, and the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. Tears of happiness coursed down the cheeks of the girl kneeling in a heap of possessions, weeping to herself in the dark.