The Doctor's hearts raced with desperate hope as he strode through the TARDIS to the library. "The answer has to be here somewhere," he muttered to himself as he sat down at his desk, piled high with books on trans-dimensional travel. He'd read them all in the months since losing Rose, but hopefully a second (or thirtieth or fortieth) look would yield better results.
He raked his hand through his hair as he opened the first volume. "Not hopefully," he corrected. "I will find the answer. Because I'm not leaving Rose to go through an alien pregnancy without knowing what to expect, and I won't leave my child to grow up without a father."
The Doctor flipped through the book quickly, his eyes darting back and forth over every page, scouring the text for the single line that would tell him how to bring Rose home. He scowled when he read each warning against attempting trans-dimensional travel alone, and when he got to the end of the book without learning anything new, he tossed it on the floor and picked up the next one.
And that was his life for the next two weeks. Reading, studying, rereading, and cursing the authors who insisted he couldn't go through the Void on his own. He only left the library to use the toilet, typically stopping by the galley to make a sandwich on his way back.
When his eyes were too tired and gritty to continue reading, he would move the short distance from the desk to the couch and collapse into an exhausted slumber for a few hours. His tie had been discarded on the second day and his oxford was half-untucked from his trousers. A scratchy layer of stubble covered his face, but he refused to break from his pattern of reading, eating, and sleeping. There would be time for rest when Rose came home.
His mood worsened as the pile of rejected books on the floor grew, and when the last book offered no magical solution, he slammed it shut and threw it across the room. It hit the wall next to the fireplace with a satisfying thunk, then fell on the floor.
The Doctor shoved back from his desk and rubbed at his weary eyes. Two weeks of work, dozens of books, and nothing—not even a hint of how he might manage to break the laws of physics and travel through the Void on his own. He didn't have a way to bring Rose and their baby home.
He sat up straight as a stray thought crept into his mind. Unless…
The Doctor leapt to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace, ignoring the book lying on the floor, pages fanned out. He knew where he could find a gap big enough to take the TARDIS across the Void—or more specifically, he knew when he could find a gap.
All he had to do was pilot his ship back to a time before Canary Wharf, go through the Void, and hop forward to just after Rose fell. Then, once she was on the TARDIS, they could go back far enough to be able to make it safely through the Void again.
He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth as he considered the plan. Strictly speaking, he would be crossing his own timeline. But as long as he didn't show up at the Pete's World Torchwood while his past self was there with Jake and Pete, he reckoned it would be all right. Safe enough, anyway—safer than Rose would be if he left her there alone.
His vision greyed out for a moment when he sensed the impending paradox. If he picked Rose up before she even found out she was pregnant, then she wouldn't be in Pete's World for him to talk to, and he wouldn't realise she was pregnant and decide to find a way to go through and bring them home.
The Doctor grabbed onto the mantel until his vision cleared, then spun away from the fireplace. "I don't care what the universe says," he growled as he stalked out of the library. "I'm the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, and I am not leaving Rose and our baby on their own in a parallel universe. It's taken me all these years to realise the laws of time are mine, and they will obey me!"
The TARDIS rocked in the temporal turbulence as timelines swirled and broke around her, but the Doctor didn't sway from his decision. An exhilarating sensation of power and control swept over him as he strode through the corridors. This was what he was always meant to be—the Time Lord Victorious, ruler and arbiter of Time itself.
The Doctor was abruptly aware that the TARDIS had been leading him in circles, instead of letting him get to the console room. "Oh no you don't," he growled, slapping his hand on the coral wall. "I've served Time my whole life, and now Time can serve me."
The corridor didn't shift.
"Let me out of here!" the Doctor roared. He shook his fists at the ceiling. "I'm going to get Rose back, and I don't care what you think about it."
The TARDIS remained implacable, but the sympathetic note in her hum created the first fissure in the Doctor's defiance.
"I have to… I need…" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before shouting, "Rose needs me!"
The air in front of him flickered, and then a projection of Rose appeared out of thin air. The Doctor stumbled back, his hearts seizing when he saw her image.
"This is Bad Wolf Programme One," she said clearly. "The TARDIS and I decided to call them that because I'm leaving these messages to keep you safe, my Doctor."
When Rose smiled and pushed her hair back over her ear, the Doctor saw her ring sparkling on her finger. A sob caught in his throat when he realised she'd taken time out of their honeymoon to leave these messages for him. Knowing that even in the middle of their happiest time, she'd loved him enough to prepare for his deepest sorrow made him miss her more than he already did.
Rose's eyes softened and she looked directly at him. "I don't know what has happened to take me from you. I don't know how long we had, but if you're listening to this message, I suspect it isn't as long as we should have had. I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry I couldn't stay with you for my forever, like I promised."
In the Doctor's mind, his end of the broken blond clamoured to connect with his mate. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to resist the instinct to dive into Rose's mind. She wasn't really there, and the failed attempt would only make the ache worse.
His efforts distracted him from her words, and when he paid attention again, she had a smirk on her face. "And I bet you're fussing and moaning now—typical."
The Doctor laughed weakly.
"The TARDIS has activated this message because you're planning something dangerous in an attempt to get me back. You can't do it, Doctor." She shook her head. "I know you miss me, and I know that wherever I am, I miss you, too. But you have to be careful, and you have to be safe."
Her voice broke, and the Doctor wished he could brush away the tears gathering in her eyes. "I broke the laws of time once to get back someone I love, and my punishment was to see you be taken by Reapers. Don't make me watch that again, Doctor—please."
The raw pleading in her voice cut through the Doctor's madness. Breaking the laws of time as he'd planned would almost certainly have triggered another visit from the Reapers. And this time, there wouldn't have been a Pete Tyler who could step in and cauterise the wound by dying in his place.
Two lonely tears tracked down Rose's face, and she wiped them away and cleared her throat. "I want you safe, my Doctor," she repeated. "Protected even from yourself."
Even though he hated what she was telling him, the Doctor felt a spark of happiness at her words, too. He'd forgotten how well Rose knew him, and how loved that made him feel.
"I love you, Doctor," she said, as if she'd managed to read his mind, even from months in the past. "Never forget that." She smiled sadly at him, then the image flickered and disappeared.
"No," the Doctor moaned. He stretched his arm out, but Rose wasn't there—she'd never been there. How many times will I have to watch her vanish in front of me? His throat closed up, and he turned slowly from the spot where he'd seen her hologram and walked away.
The TARDIS buzzed in the back of his head, and he wasn't surprised when a door appeared—a very familiar door. The Doctor took a deep breath, and for the first time in four months, he entered the bedroom he'd shared with Rose.
Everything was exactly as they had left it. Looking at the bed, covers tidied but still obviously slept in, the Doctor remembered waking up that morning with Rose in his arms. Her happiness as she awakened had blended with his own until the sheer joy of the moment had taken his breath away.
Unshed tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to turn away from the memories. As he undressed, he remembered soft kisses slowly becoming passionate, the way Rose had rolled onto her back and urged him to move on top of her, her cries as they'd made love.
His hands stilled on his zip. Was that when their baby had been conceived? Rose couldn't have been pregnant for more than a few days before she was taken from him—he would have detected the change in her hormones as soon as the embryo was successfully implanted in her uterus.
He bit his lip and forced the thought aside. All that really mattered was that a child had been created out of their love. A child who was now trapped in a parallel universe with Rose.
The Doctor's breathing grew ragged as he finally tumbled onto the bed. Rose's scent surrounded him, and he reached for her pillow, wrapping his arms around it and letting his tears fall. He was tired enough and his mind missed Rose enough that he could almost imagine her hands running through his hair, soothing him as he wept. Imagined or not, the sensation relaxed him, and he soon fell asleep.
oOoOoOoOo
Rose leaned back in her office chair and rubbed at her forehead, in between her eyes. She'd been staring at the report on the dimension hoppers for hours. Torchwood's habit of appropriating tech they didn't understand had made the dimension cannon project a nightmare. They had the hoppers, but no one actually knew how they worked—and until they figured that out, they couldn't build on the design.
She glanced out at London, wincing when she realised it was dark enough that the sun must have set hours ago. Oh, Mum won't be happy. Jackie had been complaining about the long hours Rose was working, claiming it wasn't good for the baby.
As if they could sense the direction her thoughts were going, the baby shifted and kicked slightly. Rose chuckled and rested her hand on her belly. You're made of stronger stuff than that, aren't you little one? She rubbed a circle over her stomach, and the baby's movements slowed. You've got stardust in your veins, don't you? We just need to find your daddy so we can be out there in the stars like we're supposed to be.
Rose felt something in her temple a moment later. She would have dismissed it, except it didn't feel like the same twinge of pain that still lingered from the broken bond. This was more like… like the jolt you got from a mild electrical current.
It wasn't a new sensation, and Rose furrowed her brows as she tried to remember when she'd felt it before. It happened again, just as she landed on the memory, and she gasped in amazement.
The baby was attempting telepathic contact.
Rose closed her eyes and reached out for the fledgling telepathic mind that had connected with her own. Are you there? She held her breath, and a moment later, the baby's mind hesitantly brushed against her own.
Tears rolled unchecked down Rose's cheeks as she cradled her child's mind to her for the first time. The baby couldn't communicate in words, but Rose could feel a question as the infant mind continued reaching. Her heart ached when she realised what the baby was looking for—or rather, who they were looking for.
Your daddy isn't here, little one, she explained. But as soon as we can, we're going to find our way home to him.
Rose remembered a moment standing at the door of the TARDIS with the Doctor as they floated in space. They were on the edge of a nebula, and the light had spun around them.
That's where we belong, sweetheart, she told her child. And we'll be back there one day, I promise.
oOoOoOoOo
"But I've seen it in comics," Mickey protested. "People go hopping from one alternative world to another. It's easy."
The Doctor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not in the real world."
He sighed and leaned back against one of the TARDIS struts. "It used to be easy," he admitted. "When the Time Lords kept their eye on everything, you could hop between realities, home in time for tea. Then they died, and took it all with them. The walls of reality closed; the worlds were sealed. Everything became that bit less kind."
The Doctor burrowed closer to Rose's pillow as he woke up, silently cursing his subconscious. He really hadn't needed the reminder that it was his own fault he couldn't bring Rose home. If he hadn't killed them all…
He groaned and tossed the covers back, then got out of bed and shuffled into the ensuite. Now that he was rested, he couldn't stand the dirty, itchy feeling of not having bathed in weeks. He grimaced at his reflection—had he really been planning to go get Rose looking like that?
You were a little mad, he told himself as he climbed into the shower.
The hot water stimulated his brain cells, and his mind went back to the conversation he'd dreamed about. He'd always known, really, that there was no way to safely break through the Void. He'd known a year ago when he told Mickey it was impossible, he'd known months ago when Rose had disappeared with Pete to the parallel universe, and he'd known two weeks ago when he'd realised she was pregnant.
That was it, then, he realised as he scrubbed his body clean. Unless he could find another member of a pan-dimensional species who could hold a wormhole through the Void open on this end while he went through to Rose… but as far as he knew, he was the last pan-dimensional being left in this universe.
There used to be dozens of pan-dimensional species, along with the Time Lords. But they had all been wiped out by the Time War, or they had left the prime universe to take refuge in other parallel universes and had never returned. With the Time Lords gone, that left only him.
The Doctor froze in the middle of shampooing his hair, only moving when suds started dripping into his eyes. He shifted back under the water, and his mind raced as he rinsed the shampoo down the drain.
Only him, but he wasn't only him, was he?
For the first time in months, real hope burned in his hearts. It was a crazy idea, and would certainly bend the rules regarding crossing your own timeline, but that was a rule he'd broken more than once, and never with any dire consequences.
It was time to get help from the one person as devoted to Rose Tyler's health and happiness as he was—himself.