Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I do not own anything, nor do I get paid for it.
A/N Thanks for the lovely response on the last chapter. I am sorry I haven't been around, but I am back and hoping to have no more obstacles in finishing this fic.
This chapter is Part 1 of the 50th anniversary. I am not all that fond of referring to the Doctors by their number in fic, but with multiple Doctors for the rewrite, I am going to have to use it, unless I want to repeat everyone's descriptions over and over.
A special thank you to my lovely new beta, Vampiyaa, for all the help.
Happy Reading!
Clara rearranged her things in her old room, hoping very much that this situation would be short-lived. The Maitland family had finally hired a full-time nanny, and though Mr. Maitland had been very grateful for all her help, it was always understood that the arrangement had been temporary.
While Clara would miss Angie and Artie, she knew truly that she was always meant to be a teacher, not a nanny. Unfortunately, opportunities weren't so easy to come by, especially since Christmas was only a month away, and no one was looking to hire a teacher with virtually no classroom experience straight out of university, although she did have a few interviews lined up in coming weeks. Meanwhile, she'd had to move back to the Powell Estate with her Dad and Gran.
She didn't have many fond memories of the Estate, having moved there after her mum had passed, and she had only stayed a year longer, choosing to go away for university, especially since Linda had become a fixture in their lives since then. But she found that she liked it a little better than she did before, and even though it meant that Linda was still around, the company of her Dad and Gran made it worthwhile. With everything that had happened, Clara treasured her family more than ever, even Linda, as much as she irritated her.
"Telephone for you, dear," came her Gran's voice, and Clara grabbed the phone from her Gran with a quick kiss to her cheek.
"Thanks, Gran," she said. "Hello?"
"Oh, hello, Clara," came the ever-jovial voice and Clara's heart jumped at hearing the Doctor. "Was that your grandmother? I might have accidentally mistaken her for you and told her about getting dressed for cocktails on the moon."
Clara's eyes went wide and she glanced at her Gran, who was shaking her head and muttering about young men, though there was a palpable blush on her cheeks. Clara carefully avoided every thought about that, and decided to change the subject. "I thought you said you were going to call," she said, trying not to sound accusing. "It's been a month."
"Oh, has it?" he asked lightly, though she suspected he had known that. She briefly wondered how long it had been for him, but she knew he wouldn't be honest if she asked. "Well, you know how time flies. I plan to do something, and whoops, it's suddenly a hundred years later and there's all these questions about why there is a tyrannosaurus-rex in 11th century London."
Clara couldn't help but smile at his absurd ramblings. "Tell you what," she said mischievously. "You can make it up to me if we can get those cocktails on the moon you were talking about."
"Clara Oswald, I believe we have a deal," he said, laughing. "See you in an hour."
"An hour at most, I promise," said Rose, shooting him a smile. "Just a quick drink with Mickey and the lot."
"Right, off you go then," said the Doctor, looking at the console and pretending not to notice her smile. "Don't wanna be late on your date," he couldn't help but add scathingly.
Rose had been on her way out, but she turned around and bit her lip to hide her smile. "You could always come," she said.
He finally looked up and snorted derisively. "Now why would I do that?" he asked, crossing his arms over his leather-clad chest. "Watch a bunch of apes get sloshed? No, thanks."
"Fine," said Rose, rolling her eyes. "Stay here and sulk. I'll be back soon."
He tossed her a sarcastic salute that she pretended not to notice, and slammed the door after her as she left the TARDIS. If he wanted to act like a child, she wasn't sticking around for his tantrum. Things had been tense as it is since their disastrous visit to see her father back in 1987. A night out with some friends was what she needed, and if the Doctor was annoyed, he could keep it to himself.
Inside the TARDIS, a part of the Doctor was berating himself for being so curt with Rose, but the thought of her spending time with her own friends unsettled his hearts. He had been so paranoid ever since their visit to 1987, he was certain that one of these times she would walk out of the TARDIS and would not return. It was a foolish thought, and logically, he knew that she was only going out for a while, but he also knew he wouldn't be calm until she was back inside the TARDIS.
What a child he had become, he snorted to himself, and then glanced at the console, debating if he should just skip forward an hour instead of being alone with his paranoid thoughts. If he did, he would see Rose sooner, but there was always a chance of him getting the coordinates wrong. It would be easier to just lock onto the TARDIS key, which was what he decided to do and skipped forward for an hour, keeping his location the same.
The TARDIS dematerialised briefly and materialised back again, and the Doctor nodded to himself. If Rose did actually see him materialising, he could always make something up about a short trip he had taken. She would be mad, but it was better than telling her that he couldn't last an hour without her and needed to use time travel to avoid having to wait.
He heard the key scrape into the lock, but the door didn't seem to open, and his brow furrowed in confusion. Rose wasn't the sort to get so drunk she couldn't remember how to use a key. He was at the door in quick strides and opened the door, only to see a petite brunette in a red dress, staring at him with wide eyes.
"Oh," she said, shocked. "Sorry."
She turned around to try and leave, but he had seen the key in her hand and he stopped her with a firm grip on her elbow. "Now, hang on," he said, fixing her with a glare. "Where did you get that?"
"That?" she asked, looking at the key in her hand. "Oh, you know, nowhere."
The Doctor tried not to roll his eyes. She was a worse liar than Rose. "Inside, now," he ordered, pulling her into the TARDIS none too gently.
"Oi, steady on," she said, shaking her arm from his grip but following him into the TARDIS.
He turned around and glared at her. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Clara Oswald," she said, going for a nervous smile.
His eyes narrowed at her. "I have seen you before, haven't I?" he asked. "Always there, scurrying around the corner of my eye."
Clara crossed her arms. "Well, bit of a rude way to put it, but yeah," she said. "I am the real deal, though. The original."
Her wide smile had no impact on him. "What year is it outside?" he asked.
"2013," she shrugged. "I was expecting you. Not you, you," she clarified hastily.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Right then, must have got the coordinates wrong," he muttered under his breath. "Off you go then," he told her in a louder voice. "And try and stay away from temporal paradoxes."
Clara started to nod, but the console room seemed to flicker, and the Doctor tensed which immediately put her on alert. "What's going on?" she asked, when the coral console room started to seem smaller, darker, more blue than green.
"You said you were waiting for me to show up?" he grimaced. "Here I come."
The TARDIS jolted violently and Clara barely had time to grip the railing near the door so she wouldn't fall and hit her head. It did give her painful whiplash, and when she finally righted herself, the console room was the one she had known, with the rotating rotor and the dim blue lighting.
The Doctor in leather looked just as disorientated as her, though far more irritated than before. The other Doctor, her very own Doctor, with his floppy brown hair and daft bow tie was beaming at her, apparently not having seen his irate younger self.
"An hour, on the dot, just as I promised, Clara," he declared, holding his arms out for a hug.
Clara cleared her throat and tried to turn his attention to the Doctor in leather, but he took it upon himself to alert his older self of his presence.
"Did you also check the spatial coordinates so you wouldn't land inside my TARDIS?" he growled and the Doctor whirled around in shock.
"Oh," he said. "Clara," he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on his younger self. "Am I seeing double again?"
"No, Doctor," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, thought not," he said and then walked right up to his younger self. "Blimey, those ears really were something, weren't they? Not to mention the nose."
"You can talk, ya bloody clown," said the Ninth Doctor. "Ever heard of eyebrows? Or a regular chin?"
"At least I don't have that horrendous Northern accent," he snapped.
"Oi!" Both Clara and the Ninth Doctor took offence to that.
"This is getting us nowhere," said the Ninth Doctor irritably. He wondered what manner of death had brought on this hyperactive child with an asymmetrical face as his future self. "We shouldn't be here like this at the same time."
"Right, you are," said the Eleventh Doctor quickly. "I mean, of course you are right. You are me, and I am always right. Aren't I, Clara?"
"Not even close," said Clara, shaking her head at once.
"'Course I am," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Now then, let's see. You are grumpy, but not too grumpy. Must be after you met Rose then. Where is she?" He glanced around as if expecting to see her. Or hoping, Clara realised when she saw the longing beneath the cheerful smile.
"Visiting her mates," said the Ninth Doctor, crossing his arms uncomfortably. His floppy-haired self was quite a bit older than him, and Rose would surely have not lived that long, let alone stayed with him for that time, but it still set his skin prickling at the confirmation that he would be left without her one day. And clearly miss her too, if the look on his older self's face was anything to go by.
The Eleventh Doctor nodded at that and looked almost relieved, though the disappointment was equally evident. "Just as well," he murmured to himself and shook his head. "Come along, Clara. We have tempted the web of time enough for one day."
"First sensible thing to come out of your mouth," said the Ninth Doctor, his irritation flaring once again. "Is that the wisdom I have to look forward to in my old age?"
The Eleventh Doctor did not deign to reply to that, but the TARDIS gave a spectacular lurch then, sending Clara crashing into the Ninth Doctor.
"Oomph," she groaned, having banged her nose into his leather-clad back.
"Careful," he snapped at her, but righted her before heading to the console.
His older self, on the other hand, headed towards the doors and opened them slowly. "I wouldn't dematerialise, if I were you," he told his younger self.
"What?" demanded the Ninth Doctor. "Why the hell not…?" He trailed off and looked out of the doors to see the TARDIS being raised higher and higher over the buildings of Powell Estate, the air filled with the unmistakable sound of a helicopter.
"Are we hooked to a helicopter?" asked Clara, holding onto the console tightly as the TARDIS swung back and forth like a pendulum.
"Humans!" thundered the Ninth Doctor angrily. "What do they think they are doing?"
"I think they are trying to take us somewhe...aaaarrrgghhhhh," the Eleventh Doctor screamed as he fell out of the open TARDIS doors.
"DOCTOR!" shouted Clara, trying to run towards him, but the Ninth Doctor got there first.
"Hold on," he shouted down to his Eleventh self who was dangling out of the TARDIS, holding on for dear life.
"I AM!" shouted the Eleventh Doctor, somehow managing to glare back at his younger self for stating the obvious.
The Ninth Doctor paid him no mind as he extended his arm out to him, keeping a firm grip on the solid doorway of the TARDIS. The Eleventh Doctor took the hand gratefully and let himself be pulled back into the TARDIS. The two Doctors fell onto the TARDIS floor next to each other and kicked the doors shut in unison.
"Are you alright?" asked Clara as she ran to her Doctor and hugged him.
"Yes, yes, just a bit of fresh air," he said, patting her back before running over to the console.
"Trafalgar Square," said the Ninth Doctor, who had already been checking their destination on the monitor. "What's in Trafalgar Square?"
"UNIT," said the Eleventh Doctor, looking at the uniforms.
"Fantastic," said the Ninth Doctor sarcastically. "Can't wait to hear their reason for this. Who's in charge now? Benton? Bambera? Please tell me the Brigadier is still refusing retirement."
The TARDIS was set down on firm ground and the Ninth Doctor missed the slight sorrow in his older self's eyes. The two Doctors and Clara were out of the door almost immediately and were met by an apologetic Kate Lethbridge-Stewart.
"Doctor, I am so…" she trailed off as she stared between the two Doctors. "Oh, oh dear."
"Ah, Kate," said the Eleventh Doctor, shaking his head like a disapproving teacher. "That was not a nice thing to do at all. I do not like being picked up."
"That probably sounded better in his head," said Clara, smiling apologetically.
"Kate Lethbridge-Stewart," said the Ninth Doctor, looking at her as if seeing a wonder. "You were just a little girl the last time I saw you."
Kate stared at him unabashedly. "It is very nice to meet you, Doctor," she said. "Blimey, a whole world of difference in seeing photographs of two of you in the same place and actually seeing it. Again, I am sorry for the hasty pick-up. I'm afraid we have something of a crisis."
"Isn't that always the case with you little humans?" asked the Ninth Doctor, rolling his eyes in almost fond exasperation. "What is it this time? Not the Slitheen again?"
"No," said Kate. "No Slitheen, I promise. I'm afraid, this time it's a message from Her Majesty."
"Lizzie?" asked the Eleventh Doctor. "What did I do this time? I didn't even park on the grounds. Not that she minds, I tell you."
"No, Doctor," said Kate, shaking her head fondly. "The other Queen Elizabeth. The first one."
"Queen Bess left a message for the Doctor?" asked Clara, her eyes wide.
"Technically, she left it for her husband, but essentially yes," said Kate. "Do follow me."
"Husband?" thundered the Ninth Doctor and glared at his older self.
"Don't look at me, mate," he shrugged. "It was the idiot that came before me and after you."
"And he married the Virgin Queen?" asked the Ninth Doctor, looking concerned for his future regenerations.
"What we get up to in the privacy of our own regeneration is our business," said the Eleventh Doctor as Kate led them into the National Gallery and then downstairs into the Under Gallery.
"Welcome to the Under Gallery," said Kate. "This is where Elizabeth the First kept paintings and art deemed too dangerous for public consumption. She left this for you."
The Eleventh Doctor snatched up the letter that Kate offered before his younger self could and broke the seal. He read the words rapidly and stuffed the parchment into his pocket quickly, his face impassive.
"Aren't you going to share?" asked the Ninth Doctor, crossing his arms in front of him.
"Not important," he said, smiling jovially. "Just an old love letter. Would make your ears blush and trust me, nobody wants to see that."
"Anyway," interrupted Kate. "That's not the pertinent part. That was merely to confirm Elizabeth's credentials. This way, please."
They walked down a narrow, low-lit path towards their destination. There were statues lining the path, all of them covered with thick muslin sheets. The ground was littered with stone dust, which both the Doctors examined with raised eyebrows but neither of them commented on it. They did spot a fez, which the Eleventh Doctor claimed at once to an exasperated eye-roll from Clara and a disgusted look from the Ninth Doctor.
They came to a wide, white room with paintings hanging on the walls, each one depicting a different alien landscape. The wood-panelled floor of the room was covered in broken glass.
"Oh my God," said Clara, looking at the paintings. "They look like they are moving."
"3-D paintings," said the Ninth Doctor, his jaw clenched. "Time Lord technology."
"Look at this glass," said the Eleventh Doctor, eyes fixed on the ground instead of the paintings.
"I know," said the Ninth Doctor. "Something broke out of these."
"How is that possible?" asked Clara, seeing the same look of incredulity mirrored on Kate's face.
Before either Doctor could answer, a time window opened up above their heads, glowing bright and silver.
"What on Earth is that?" asked Kate in alarm.
"Impossible," declared the Ninth Doctor.
The Eleventh Doctor took off his fez and tossed it into the portal. "Did not return," he said when the fez disappeared but did not reappear. He turned to his younger self. "Shall we then?"
"Age before beauty," he told his older self with a sardonic smile.
"Fair enough," said the Eleventh Doctor and jumped into the portal.
"Doctor!" shouted Clara in alarm, but the Ninth Doctor followed after him immediately.
Clara looked at Kate, who seemed just as shocked. Both the Doctors had vanished completely.
The walk had been very long. The Doctor had insisted on leaving the TARDIS behind, claiming that it would be too risky if the Time Lords decided to track them through it. Tracking the TARDIS would be difficult and they doubted anyone would have time to do it, but it was just one more risk they couldn't afford to take. Which was why they had left it behind and continued to walk through the wasteland that was now Gallifrey, for miles and miles.
Hardly any words were spoken between them, apart from the occasional inquiries about tiredness. Even those were mere courtesies, since they both knew the task that awaited them. The Moment was still in the sack thrown over the Doctor's shoulder, and even though Rose had offered to carry it more than once, the Doctor had stubbornly borne the burden himself. They walked for what felt like several hours, until they found themselves in an abandoned village with dilapidated houses and sheds.
The occupants of the village had died out years ago. They hadn't been Time Lords, not even proper Gallifreyans, the Doctor explained. They were mere Shobogans. The Time Lords did not bother themselves with them and had simply let them die when the war had started. Rose wished the thought could churn her stomach, but she had run out of energy to muster up any more disgust for the Time Lords. Or pity, for that matter.
They chose the first shed with a door that could close, and while the Doctor set the sack down on the ground littered with straw, Rose examined the partially boarded up windows to check for any approaching intruders. When she found none, she turned to the Doctor, who was sitting down on a large rubber wheel, the kind that would be fitted on a tractor on Earth. He was staring intently at the sack he had set down, though he looked up when Rose walked up to him.
"Take a look," he said, waving a hand towards it.
Rose raised her eyebrows, but knelt to the ground so she could tip the small box out of the sack. It rolled out gently and landed on the ground, and Rose jumped back in shock at the sight of it.
"What?" asked the Doctor, seeing the alarmed look on her face.
Rose turned to him with wide eyes. "Can't you hear it?" she asked.
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "Hear what?" he asked.
"Hear that," said Rose, looking terrified as she waved a hand towards the Moment. "It's like...I know that sound. I've heard it before."
The Doctor looked at her in concern but as he went to touch the box, Rose grasped his arm and stopped him. "Wait, look," she said and the Doctor's eyebrows shot up when the gears on the outside of the box began to shift, though the box remained as tightly closed as ever.
"Can you still hear…?" he asked and Rose nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the box.
"It's like the first time I looked into the TARDIS," she said, kneeling down in front of the box. "Stronger, though. Clearer too." Rose reached a hand to the box and touched the gears on top, which were still spinning. "There are words here."
The Doctor leaned over her shoulder to peer at it and realised that the gears were parting to spell a word. Two words, to be precise. "Bad Wolf," he read, noticing Rose stiffen. "You know what it means?"
Rose stared silently at the words, unable to think of a way to respond. "Yes," she said, finally just as the gears stopped spinning.
The Doctor was alarmed to see tears in her eyes. "Rose," he murmured, touching a hand to her shoulder.
She jumped at the contact and stood up. "It wasn't a conscience," she said, starting to pace. "The Time Lords got it wrong. It doesn't have a conscience."
"How do you know, Rose?" asked the Doctor, unnerved at how scared she sounded.
Rose stopped and stared at him, and the Doctor realised that her eyes had taken on a golden sheen. "Because it's me," she said. "The Moment is me."
"You can't be," said the Doctor, staring at her in horror.
Rose shook her head and looked at the box. "The box is nothing but a power source. Like the Travesties, like the Horde, it needs a Host. But not just any being of the vortex. It needs me. The one that ended the Time War."
"I am the one who ends the Time War," said the Doctor, still unwilling to believe her.
"Everything must come to dust. All things. Everything dies," murmured Rose, her voice echoing in an ethereal manner around them. "The Time War ends." She looked pained as she turned to the Doctor. "It was always me who would do this."
"No," he said, grasping her shoulders firmly when she started to shake her head again. "You might be the Moment, but the Moment could not be wielded until it had someone to push that final button."
"But—" protested Rose but the Doctor cut her off.
"Listen to me, Rose," he said. "Just because you can hear the damn thing doesn't mean that you are it. You are Rose Tyler, not some ancient weapon in a box."
"Who says I can't be both?" she asked sardonically and then tilted her head towards the box. "Huh, that's different."
"What is?" asked the Doctor quickly.
"We can create time fissures with this," she said, trying to assimilate the information being conveyed into her mind. "But why would we want to?"
"Time fissures?" asked the Doctor eagerly. "In my future?"
Rose looked at him and nodded slowly. "If you wanted, yeah. But why?"
The Doctor looked at the box. "I need to know," he said finally. "I need to know the man that today will make of me."
"Are you sure?" asked Rose.
He met her gaze and nodded. "I am," he said confidently.
"Alright then," said Rose, her eyes blazing golden. The air around them shimmered until a portal of vortex energy slowly unfurled in front of them. Rose winced in discomfort and the portal vanished abruptly, leaving her clutching her head.
"Rose, are you alright?" asked the Doctor, moving towards her in concern.
Rose nodded, trying to regulate her breathing. "It requires more energy than I thought," she said. The gears on the box started shifting again and Rose knelt in front of it, her eyes fixed on the changing gears. "Hang on, this might work better."
"What will?" asked the Doctor, trying to read the words but the gears shifted back into place before he could.
Rose didn't answer. She simply placed both her hands on the box and closed her eyes. The portal started to unfurl yet again, brighter and stronger than before. "It will not last for long," said Rose, her eyes still closed and her voice echoing again. "And I will need to regain my strength before we can journey back here." She stood up and opened her eyes. "Are you sure you want to see where we end up? It could be years into the future, or just tomorrow."
"I am sure," said the Doctor, assuredly. "I need to see what it holds."
As if on cue, a red object came hurtling out of the portal and fell at their feet. "Is that a…?" asked Rose.
The Doctor picked it up and looked at it in puzzlement. "It's a fez."
It was a sunny day in England when the Tenth Doctor was enjoying a leisurely picnic with Queen Elizabeth the First. Or rather, he would have been, had the Queen been real and not a Zygon. He had been tracking the damned blighters across the galaxy, and when they had finally arrived on Earth in the 16th century, he had been annoyed to say the least. That they were now impersonating one of the most infamous monarchs of England only further grated on his nerves.
Things had not been going well lately. His disastrous visit to Bowie Base One aside, he had Ood Sigma's summons hanging over him like the sword of Damocles. He wanted to put off his visit to the Ood Sphere for as long as he could. So the distraction had come in the form of a Zygon disguised in the form of the Queen of England. Well, he would soon be done with that too.
"Elizabeth," he said, getting on his knees. "Marry me?"
Elizabeth beamed at him. "Oh sweet love, of course I will," she said.
"Aha, gotcha!" he said, pointing a finger in her face. "I knew it! I mean, there's no way Good Queen Bess decides to marry some bloke from space just because he wears a tight suit and has great hair. Oh, I have got you now and I will…" he trailed off when he saw a Zygon standing where the horse had been tethered before. "Oh, no."
"What is that monstrous thing?" asked Elizabeth, looking at it with wide eyes.
"Your Majesty, I suggest you run. Run very far from this thing," he said.
"But what about you?" she asked him.
"Oh, I will be just fine," he said, reaching for his sonic screwdriver just the same. "Run, Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth turned and ran, and the Doctor took off towards the woods after the fleeing Zygon. The device in his hands beeped frantically until he got into the woods, but it went suspiciously quiet immediately. He stopped and searched for signs of any living beings and saw a rabbit in his line of sight.
"Whatever you've got planned, forget it. I'm the Doctor. I'm nine hundred and four years old. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness," his threatening voice tapered off slowly when he realised that it wasn't the Zygon. "And you are basically just a rabbit, aren't you? Okay, carry on. Just a general warning."
He heard a crackling of energy behind him and he whirled around in shock, just in time to see a time fissure opening near him, the portal getting brighter as he approached it cautiously. A fez popped out of it, and he picked it up and put it on his head, moments before two figures came barrelling from the portal and landed in front of him.
"Oh, no," he said, when he saw the man in the leather jacket.
"He can't be," said the Ninth Doctor, upon seeing him. "Can he?" he asked the Eleventh Doctor.
"'Fraid so, mate," said the Eleventh Doctor, clapping his Ninth self on the shoulder.
"I become him?" he hissed. "This pretty boy?"
"Oi, who you callin' pretty?" demanded the Tenth Doctor, taking the fez off and tossing it to the Eleventh Doctor who caught it expertly and observed it thoughtfully. "And who is he?" he asked.
The Eleventh Doctor responded by holding up his sonic screwdriver. "Who do you think?" he asked.
"Wonderful," said the Tenth Doctor, in a voice full of sarcasm. "Any reason why we are having this lovely reunion?"
"The time fissures, for one," said the Ninth Doctor, looking extremely disgruntled at the Tenth Doctor's appearance. "We didn't make them and judging from that surprised look on your mug, I am guessing you didn't either. So, question remains, who did?"
"Doctor," came Clara's voice from the portal. "Doctor, can you hear me?"
"Ah, Clara," said the Eleventh Doctor. "Hold on, just need to check something. Think fast!" He tossed the fez into the portal and waited for her reply. "Well? Anything?"
"What?" asked Clara. "Was something supposed to happen?"
"So, we know it doesn't work both ways," said the Eleventh Doctor, with a look at his two younger selves. "Right then, if you two have suggestions, I am all ears. Well, not me, but you certainly are," he added with a mirthful look at his Ninth self who rolled his eyes.
"What Chinny here means is that there has to be another one of us who is creating these fissures," said the Tenth Doctor. "The fez would have gone to him if it didn't end up on that other side."
"Yes, we all worked that out, pretty boy," said the Ninth Doctor, rolling his eyes. "Question is, which one is it going to be?"
The portal flared once again and the three Doctors backed away from it in unison. They stood facing it, holding their sonic screwdrivers ready for whatever was now coming through. The light of the portal continued to crackle and shine for several long moments before a bright flash all but blinded them.
Two people fell out of the portal, a man and a woman, both of them looking like they had been through hell and back, judging from their clothes and general appearance.
"Blimey, my head," said the woman, her blonde hair obscuring half her face as she held onto the man's shoulder for balance. "Did we make it?"
"Can't you tell?" the man asked her.
"I'll tell you once I stop seeing in fours, Doctor," she joked and looked up to see the Doctor looking away from her.
"I don't think that will happen, Rose," he said and Rose followed his gaze to see three gaping faces at her.
"Oh," she said, her eyes going wide. "Hello."
A/N Thank you for reading. Let me know what you thought of it.
Part 2 of the rewrite will be up next Saturday. See you then!