She woke up out of a nightmare of golden clouds with a start. Something was different. Something had changed while she slept. Her thoughts moved quickly as she took in her surroundings. Something was still changing. She closed her eyes to take a mental inventory and a deep breath. All of that happened in less than a moment. She was thinking faster. And she remembered the cathedral expanse of her mind during the attack the night before.

The Doctor's arm tightened around her. He'd taken off her dirty clothes while she slept, and was now looking down at her with worried affection. She offered him a small smile as reassurance, then looked down at her wrist, testing it gingerly. Since it seemed to be working, she traced her fingers down his arm, feeling for the scrapes and cuts that had been there the night before. When she didn't find them, she grinned. "Well that was a close call, huh?"

"Closer than I'd like." His expression changed, like a shadow passing over the sun. She knew what he was thinking.

"How many times do I have to tell you - I chose this. I chose you. Life with you. And all the crazy beautiful risks that entails." She kissed him soundly for emphasis. "Understand?"

"Understood." His voice still held that brooding darkness, and she didn't believe him.

"Well, since we're all squared away, I'm going to make breakfast. Omelets? Omelets sound good." She slipped out of bed and pulled one of his loose shirts over her, tying her hair back as she left her bedroom.

The rest of the TARDIS was often the paragon of automation - having a mostly-sentient ship did that for you - but Miranda had guarded a little corner of the kitchen. It reminded her of home, she said. Sometimes she needed that, and the Doctor could always tell when she was homesick by the dozens of cookies, cakes, pies, and pastries that floated out of that corner. Stress baking, she called it. He didn't argue. She made an excellent banana cream pie.

She had already cracked the eggs when he walked in, and the smell of banana bread was already coming out of the oven. He'd taken his time, lingered in her bed for awhile, then stopped to get dressed and check a few things in the med bay. He had a lot of questions about what had happened the night before, and would wait until the next time Miranda slept to search through the TARDIS' surveillance records. He hadn't expected the modified nanogenes to be put to the test so quickly. He felt fine, of course, but what about Miranda?

"Slow poke," she teased, dancing around the kitchen to grab plates and cutlery to set the table. "But right on time I suppose. Breakfast is ready." She pulled out a still-steaming loaf of banana bread, and the Doctor took a deep breath.

"Now that's a reason to wake up in the morning."

"Figured you'd like it. And after yesterday..." she frowned for a moment, then continued, "I figured you could use a treat."

He sat down at his usual seat - though he never would have thought he'd have a usual seat - and dug into the omelet. Well, more of a scramble, since omelets had never been Miranda's strong suit. It was alright, nothing to write home about, really. But he groaned softly when he bit into the banana bread with just a hint of melting butter. "I'm undone."

"You say that every time. I think it's only because you got used to food from that awful machine."

"It wasn't awful! It made a great liver and onions."

"That looked like Mars Bars."

"That technology wasn't Martian. Time Lord all the way."

"You know, humans consider gastronomy to be an art linked with civilization. Time Lords seemed to have missed that part of development." She smirked and popped a bite-size piece of banana bread into her mouth.

"Full-on kitchen isn't very practical on a ship."

"Helps keep you sane, though, to have a nice home-cooked meal once in awhile."

"It's a time ship. Could have a nice meal whenever I have the craving."

The echo of his unfinished statement rang in her mind. No place to go that felt like home. It's always been the TARDIS, and it's always been me. She stood up and kissed his temple, cutting him another slice of bread before beginning the do the dishes.

"So, what exactly happened yesterday?"

"How much do you remember?" She glanced out the holographic window at the moon, where they were quietly circling again. She liked this view.

"I remember being on Arboranthum, seeing the temple, then the ground moving. Not much after that. Was hoping you could piece it together."

"Well, you shoved me aside when the tree moved, that's when you blacked out, I think." She didn't want to go over this. Didn't want to explain her fear for him when she couldn't see him. The thought that she wouldn't be able to protect him. Her own pain, and his amplified in her mind. She mostly didn't want to tell him about the recurrence of whatever had happened to her mind. Fear had stimulated it, probably, and she had been more than any human could biologically be. She was the vortex, it had seemed to her. She felt suddenly tired and turned to lean back against the edge of the counter.

"That's when I dragged you back here. The TARDIS and your nanogene experiments took it from there." She turned to start doing dishes. Running warm water over her hands, she willed her fear to go away. He would notice soon if she didn't. He always did.

"And how are you feeling?" He had stood and was looking at her with concern. He knew she wasn't telling him everything.

"Fine. Better than fine, actually. Hurt my wrist during the mess yesterday, and it seems to be right as rain today." She turned it, displaying how much better it clearly was. "See?"

He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Good. My tinkering turned out to be useful after all."

"Usually does." She smiled at him, then flinched away with a sharp hiss. She put her hand to her temple.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Any of a million things he could conceive of. She was a human, and had been in the Time Vortex for a long time with him, long enough to seriously damage her DNA. He'd hoped the still-remaining nanogenes would help with those repairs, and so far it had been doing alright. Miranda didn't know he saw her moments of aches and pains, and it kept her pride up to think she kept it from him. But he knew, and he had been working on patching the human nanogenes. A fool's errand, but when it came to Miranda Larsen, the Doctor knew he was the fool.

"Just my head. Sudden headache. I'll be fine." Her teeth were gritted.

"Back to bed with you. I'll make you a nice cup of tea. You can sleep it off." He was lying. So was she. It wasn't just a headache - it felt like every cell in her head was splitting open and rearranging itself. She didn't know how she managed to walk back to the bedroom, but collapsing onto her bed was so welcome. She vaguely felt the Doctor's cool hand on her forehead, on her temple, and then there was... something. A war between the calm he was trying to send to her and the infinite chaos in her mind broke out, and she groaned again, rolling away from him. She was dying, she was sure.

The Doctor practically flew to the medical bay for equipment to scan her. Something was very wrong. As though the nanogenes were doing too much work. His face greyed as he read the scan. All her major organs were human, and in perfect repair. But her mind...

Her mind carried all the expanse of a Time Lord.