Disclaimer: Nothing related to Doctor Who or the Harry Potter Series is mine. I swear. I wish I owned them, cuz then I might have a bit more money, but I don't.

Warnings: Book Two of Three (Main books anyway). Swearing. Sarcasm. I have only watched the new series, no knowledge of early Doctor Who. EWE, kind of...

Dedication: To the Writers and Producers of Doctor Who, thank you for giving me something else to obsess over, now that Harry Potter is long gone. And to the lovely people who encourage me to continue writing in their reviews. To the lovely people who encouraged me to post the next chunk. To my lovely reviewers, thank you for everything you've said.

Book 2: Stories of A Shop Girl

Summary: A Death too soon. A woman who steps up to save the world.

Rating: Dark T

Genre: Adventure/Drama

A/N: Alright ladies and gents, drum roll please:

DUN DUN NA NA!

I'm back. And so is Jack. Because who can resist the amazing ex-Time Agent.

Back to me. I'm a few weeks later than promised, but back none the less. This is the last section of this book, before I begin the next book. I offer no promises for when the next book comes out.

A/N 2: I will not be updating daily like before. It will probably be every Saturday or so. At least once a weekend.

A/N 3: Alright, we get really, really, really dark at the beginning of the chapter, but it is warranted. Don't hesitate to ask questions.

Part 3:Count Them

Chapter 18: The End of the Line

It broke me.

The second I pushed that button, and nothing happened, it broke me. I could feel the cracks growing in size. I pounded on the switch. Over and over again. It wasn't working. I pounded on the wall.

"Bring me back!" I yell, sobbing. Nothing was working.

I threw myself at the wall. A memory flooded back, of me doing the same thing almost five years ago, or even a little bit in the future.

Nothing was working. "No! No! Bring me back!"

I could feel the tears falling down my face. I was sobbing, and my screams were turning more and more unintelligible.

I don't know how, but I end up in a room a few hours later. The pillow is still wet from my tears. I must have cried while sleeping.

I dreamt that he came back, that he found a way. And when I woke up, nothing.

I dreamt that he purposefully wouldn't, that I would be stuck here. And when I woke up, I was still here.

No matter the outcome of the dream or nightmare, it always started a fresh wave of tears.

Within the first week of being stuck, I'd managed to get a hold of the potion to end the dreams and the nightmares. The Dreamless Sleep Potion. Although, there were nights when the dreams and the nightmares were indistinguishable.

I took it nightly. By the end of the second week, I was having a full eight hours sleep. Way more than I'd normally had when on the TARDIS. More than I should have.

By the end of the first month of being in the alternate universe, I'd ended up sleeping almost 12 hours a night.

By the end of the second month, my nightly total was almost 16 hours.

I knew I was worrying Jackie, Mickey and Pete, but I didn't care. It was too much. I'd lost too much. First the war, then the Freak Show, then the Master, then this. I'd been running for far too long.

I doubt I should have been surprised when she walked into the room, but I was.

It was one of the rare hours I actually was awake, and she'd just strolled in like she owned the place, sat down at the foot of my bed and looked at me.

I stared at her. Hermione Jane Granger. The one who got the better life. The one who didn't have everything taken from her.

"Jackie called me." She started, watching me closely.

I continue to stare at her, still wrapped up in the covers.

She continued, "No idea how she even got my number, but she called, telling me she was worried about you."

"Probably from Harry or something." I comment, turning to lie on my side, facing away from her.

"Not even going to comment on the fact that everyone downstairs is worried about you."

"What's the point? They should be."

She snorts, but it's void of humour. "You know, I actually thought that we were alike. Obviously, outside of the fact that you got contacted by the Flamel's and our middle name, we're more different that I thought. You're weak."

I ignore her, knowing she was just trying to get a rise out of me.

"I mean, sure, you've been through a bit. Everyone has. But rather than try and prove them all wrong, like you've done before, you're just letting them win."

"What's the point of fighting anymore?" I question her, "I've got nothing left to live for."

She stays quiet for a moment. "What's the point in fighting? Obviously you can't do it. You're just a woman. You're a pathetic mudblood who shouldn't even have magic. You're a freak."

"No, I'm not." I whisper, shutting my eyes, in hopes that she would stop.

"Then prove it to me. Where the hell did that girl go? The one that was going to prove herself. The one that proved that a girl could do any science a boy could do. The one that proved that even though she was a mudblood, she was more powerful than any pureblood. The one who fought for house elf sufferage, and werewolf rights. The one who found the lost Chamber of Secrets. The one who took on Voldemort with her friends and won. Where did she go?"

"She got locked away. She got stuck having people try and kill her for forty years straight, only to have them disappear one day. She got stuck there, still covered in blood, listening to everyone die, while she never would. She watched her best friend die." I swallow. "She's been gone for a lot longer than everyone seems to think."

"I doubt she's gone. She's fought to get back to the Doctor. She changed her DNA."

"But what is there left to fight for. Everything is gone. Everything is going to die."

Her voice get's louder. "What is there to fight for? Yes, everything is going to die. Congratulations for figuring that out. But everything was always going to die. No matter what. And yet you still fought. Yes, everything is going to die. But you ought to fight for the chance for it to live first."

I stay quiet, unsure how to answer than comment.

"If the reason why you don't want to fight is because you're suddenly on the other side of the void from him, then that's pathetic. If he's what you base your sense of worth on, you don't even deserve to be called a woman. If he's all that matters, then I doubt you actually went through what you claim. You're just another attention seeking ditz who wants a man to protect her and take care of her. You -"

"Shut up." I whispered. It got out without me thinking.

"What? Shut up? Stop telling you the truth? Stop telling you that the only thing you've got is a pretty face and a warm hole-"

"Shut the fuck up." I yell, rising up and looking her dead in the eye. "You've only been through a sliver of what I have, don't even try and tell me that I've been fucking faking it."

She grins. "Suddenly we've got some of the old fire. So tell me, what happened to that girl who used to prove the impossible? The one that found the Chamber of Secrets. The one who survived the cruciatus for extended periods of time. The one who managed to create the Philosopher's stone. The one who can defy the laws of physics. The one who took the Time Vortex into her mind and actually survived it. What happened to the girl who ate impossibilities for breakfast?"

"I know what you're trying to do."

She gives me a look. "Really, because if you knew, you wouldn't even be here right now."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"Just point out this, if you've continually disproved everyone's opinions of impossible, why is the Doctor labelling going across the void suddenly completely different than the impossibility of the Chamber of Secrets?"

I opened my mouth to retort, and then thought. I snapped it shut, and Hermione looked smug. I glared at her.

"I think it's time for you to do what you do best. Prove them wrong."

After our (most polite people would call it a discussion, but there wasn't discussing, just bribery, blackmail and insults) talk, Hermione took anything I could use to create the potion, cauldrons and all, from my room, and from then on, I was assigned a babysitter, until further notice.

Mickey was first on the spike.

"So then Ria, what's the plan?" He said, walking into the room and sitting down on the desk chair.

I blink at him. "I've been off an addicting potion for less than an hour, and you think I already have a plan?"

"Dunno. Hermione kinda just walked in and immediately had one." Mickey commented, shrugging.

I give him a look. "Are you making the assumption that we are the same?"

"No," Mickey backtracked, frowning, "Just, never worked with you, the real you. Figured, Ricky and I were kinda similar. You two might be too."

I nodded. "I don't know what I plan on doing. Try not to become depressed I suppose? It's not exactly like I've had a long time to think about this."

"Well, what do you do normally when somethin' like this happens?"

"Go to the library, but I feel that might be lacking in this instance." I comment, giving him a grin. He smiles.

"Well then, what would you do instead?" He asked, watching me closely.

I swallow thinking a moment. "I don't know if I want to focus on finding my way back yet. I mean, I barely know who I am."

"But you've always liked research right? Wouldn't that help? And if you're focusing on something that's important to you..."

I frown, thinking over his words, "I suppose, I'd start with the theory behind the dimension hoppers that you lot had."

Mickey frowns. "As much as I'd like to, I can't give you that info. It's Torchwood classified."

"Pete's in charge of Torchwood, I mean, he could give me that info, right?"

Wrong.

Pete couldn't. It was 'too classified' for non-Torchwood personnel. He then proceeded to offer me a job, in research and identifying alien artifacts. There would be the possibility of having my own desk, and going out in the field.

I refused.

I was still attempting to adjust to this world. I'd rather not have to become a bureaucrat in the same (or rather parallel) version of the reason why I was here in the first place.

So, I ended up staying at home for most of the time. Jackie was watching me like a hawk, given as she drew the babysitting straw. "What are you going to do with yourself sweetheart?"

I swallow, frowning. "No idea."

"Why not work at Torchwood?"

"They're the reason I'm here."

This conversation happened at least twenty times in the first week off the potion. Or at least variations of it. I was cranky, so it normally was ruder.

During the second week, Mickey stopped by for dinner every night. Sometimes Jake joined him. They got in the habit of telling me every little detail about their day. Their adventures, what they saw, what they did. It made me miss having adventures, almost enough to join Torchwood. Almost.

The third week, Jackie kicked me out (or rather we 'went out') and got me to apply for every shop position out there. When I complained, Jackie always shot back, "Well, what are you going to do then, while your here? You're going to need money." It annoyed me enough to almost accept Pete's job offer. Almost.

The fourth week, Pete had taken to leaving things around the house. Alien things. Figuring out what they did was fun. It entertained me enough to reconsider working for Torchwood.

It was enough.

Mickey was recounting his experience with the Weevels at dinner, when I pushed my chair back and stood up. It screeched across the floor, making everyone pause and turn to me.

"Enough!" I yelled.

Mickey frowned, "What's the matter Ria? Thought you liked my stories?"

"That's it. I've had enough with the stories, and the sending out resumes to shops and the leaving alien things around the house. I don't care how you do it, but I am going to start at Torchwood on Monday. I expect all the files even so much as remotely relating to the dimension cannon better be on my desk. I hope you lot are happy. I'm going to eat somewhere else, without manipulative people!" I said storming out of the room.

I sat out on the front porch, plate on my knees, trying to eat whatever it was in the shivering cold. As I figured, Mickey followed me out first. "You know, I didn't like it."

I didn't turn around, but I figured he was leaning on the door frame. "Of course not. It was Hermione's plan, wasn't it?"

"How'd you figure?" He shifted, and came to sit beside me.

I turn to look at him, "No offence, but you and Jackie barely know the me that isn't pretending to be Rose."

"You know, I doubt that you really know where you end and Rose begins." He commented, looking up at the sky.

I swallow. "Hell, I barely even know who Hermione is anymore."

"What'd you mean?"

I look up at the sky, mentally comparing the two parallel skies in my head. "I was locked away for so long that I actually forgot all of my memories. I got them back through a spell. But a person isn't made up of memories. Memories are only apart of that. I chose to act like the old Hermione would act. I don't know who I am. Remember the Doctor after he'd regenerated?" At his nod, I continued, "He didn't know who he was. Neither do I. Hell, I've got so many different names, I don't even know what to call myself." I look at him, "I don't know what to do."

"Well, I can't says I've got any experience, being another person. Outside of, you know, being Ricky. But I don't think that counts." He gives me a grin, and I give him a weak one back. "But I think you need to stop labelling what you are and what you aren't. You aren't Rose Tyler. And you definitely aren't Hermione Granger anymore. You're some kind of mix of both."

I give him a look, "So what, should I chose a new Shakespeare name on account of Hermione, and a new flower to call myself, in honour of Rose?"

"Naw. What about just calling yourself Ria?" Mickey suggested. "I mean, that's kind of what you are, a mixture of the too. Mia and Rose; Ria."

I think it over, "And who is this Ria?"

"I dunno. I don't work miracles." He said with a grin, "Think of it as puberty and finding yourself all over again."

I laugh, "Hopefully this time puberty isn't so deadly."

As I demanded, I started work on Monday. On my desk was all the files I asked for, along with the nameplate 'Ria Tyler'. I was mostly left alone by the rest of Torchwood, but stared at. Mickey stopped by on occasion, when he wasn't working in the field. I divided my time between figuring out alien technology, and attempting to understand the theory behind the dimension cannon.

After the first month of working, people started talking to me, treating me like I wasn't some form of freak. I avoided the medical centres, knowing that they would have a field day if I ever accidentally walked in front of a scanner. I still had two hearts, and a slew of other organs that I had no idea of. And I was still pregnant.

No idea how, but apparently, even though I have a brand new body that shouldn't have ever gotten impregnated, it still is. I talked to Hermione and Ginny about that. Between the three of us, our best guess is that when I regenerated, my magic recognized the baby, and somehow brought it through the process.

I started out working under a few people, just to get the understanding of how Torchwood worked. In the first week alone I learnt more about bureaucracy than I'd ever wanted to. The second week, they tried to force me to carry a gun.

"You need one on you. It's standard for all personnel." Pete said, yelling at me. We were actually at home for this conversation, in the kitchen. Jackie was sitting, holding a cup of tea, while Pete and I were standing yelling at each other.

I scoff at him. "How many personnel have you got that can do magic!?"

"You need more than a little piece of wood. What happens if someone comes charging at you?" Pete asks, watching me.

I take out my 'little piece of wood', cast three charms in quick succession, leaving him dangling by his ankle in midair, tied up and silent. "Will that suffice?"

He tries talking, and is surprised when nothing comes out. I remove the silencer. "I thought you wanted to blend in? If I let you not carry a gun, you'd either have to break that security thing, and tell all of Torchwood what you can do, or claim that, because you're my daughter, I'm letting you not carry a gun."

I glared at him, trying to find a decent counterargument to his claims. There wasn't one. "Fine."

Getting my gun permit was less of an issue. After shooting things with exact accuracy for an hour straight, I think the guy in charge would rather not give one to me.

The third week on the job, I actually got to start looking through the files, only to have to run down to research and development to talk to the people in charge. They gave me a few books, and I spent the next week asking more questions than I ever did in Hogwarts.

By the fourth week, I had a gun on my hip constantly, a wand in both my forearm holster and my ankle holster, a basic understanding of the very basic theories behind the dimension cannon, and was finally looking forward to attempting to figure out the dimension cannon. Only Pete decided I needed field experience too.

It went like this: I was talked down to by all the 'experienced' field agents, simply because they thought I was using my connections to Pete to have this job (I was technically, but they didn't need to know that). The second we were actually in combat, I snapped off five stunners, one for each of the aliens we were facing, before anyone could get shot. I saved the other three people on the team from getting slimed with radioactive sludge.

Suffice to say, I wasn't talked down to any more.

By the beginning of the fifth week, I was finally getting into the swing of working alone, without training or interruptions, when Pete stopped by, dropping a file on my desk.

I glance between it and him warily. "What happened?" I gingerly pick up the file, opening it.

"We've got someone in containment downstairs. Says he's from an alternate dimension, and born in the 51st century. He's trying to get back, but he can't." He said, frowning. Obviously, this guy upset him a little bit.

I frown, looking at the file. It didn't contain a picture of the subject. I scanned the few pages in it. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Normally, I'd hand this over to Mickey, but I figure, since he's just coming back from a mission in Holland, we need someone else."

"And the first person you think of is me?"

Pete looked uncomfortable and desperate. "Please Ria. He's been hitting on everyone who walks in."

"He's from the 51st century. They have very... loose morals then." I comment, glancing at the rest of the papers on my desk.

Pete frowns at my comment, "I take it you've been?"

"Briefly. But I've got a friend who was born there. He didn't stop flirting with anyone." I pause, thinking of Jack, "Haven't seen him in a while. Might never see him again."

He sighs, "Will you do it?"

I look at him before rising, file in tow. "What holding cell is he in?"

"Thank you." Pete gave me quick instructions to the cell. I followed them into the basement, to a locked door with no windows. I glance once more at the file, before unlocking the door, and turning the knob.

Inside the room was a table, two chairs, and a tall man, who's back was turned towards me. I cleared my throat, which he ignored. "Sit in the chair please."

He turned and I gasped. His hair was dark, his eyes sparkled, and his mouth was in a familiar flirty smirk. "Hello, beautiful. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Jack Harkness, I presume?" I comment. He blinks, frowning.

"How did you know that?"

I give him a smile, gesturing to one of the chairs. I took a seat. He followed, keeping an eye on me. "You're a time agent, Mr. Harkness. Surely you're familiar with meeting people out of order?"

"Familiar with the concept, yes. But it doesn't happen to me." He commented.

I give him a look, before pretending to scan his file, "I assure you, Mr. Harkness, it will happen to you a lot more often than you think."

"So, do I get to know your name?" He asked with a smile. "Or even how we met?"

I give him a look, "Everyone's taken to calling me Ria Tyler."

"So you're the big-guy's daughter then?"

"Adopted daughter, yes." I pause for a moment, "You said you were from an alternate universe. You couldn't get back. That is partially my fault."

Jack frowned, "Really, you've somehow been able to make it so I can't travel across universes with this thing?" He gestured to his vortex manipulator.

"Partially, yes. I assume you've heard of the Cybermen?"

He nodded, "It was my mission, to evaluate the threat of the cybermen, whether or not they could travel through dimensions."

"They did. To my home dimension. They and the Daleks attacked the Torchwood building. We managed to stop them, but at a cost. There is now an impenetrable wall between that universe and this one." Jack rubbed a hand across his face. "I am also working on a way to travel back. But transdimensional and temporal physics are not my forte."

He frowned, "Then what the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Work for me."

He looked up at me. "What? You're offering me a job?"

"Yes. We both want the same things, logically this should work."

"You're crazy! You barely know me! Why would you offer me a job?"

"You saved my life in the future. And for that, I am forever in your debt. And you're intelligent. Maybe you can see something that I can't."

Jack blinked, "If I join, you call me Jack. No more Mr Harkness." He paused thinking, "And I want out of this cell."

"Deal. Welcome to Torchwood."

Jackie freaked out when I brought Jack home. They had met briefly, before the incident with Margaret the Slitheen. We all sat down, drinking a cup of tea, talking until the rest of the family came home.

When Jake, Mickey and Pete came home, they were all curious.

Pete ended up lecturing me about releasing prisoners without his say so. Jake looked at me like I was crazy, mainly because Jack didn't hold back flirting with him. Mickey attempted to greet Jack the way he normally would have, but after a quick explanation of the day's events, he laughed. This lead into me explaining how Jack and I met during the second world war.

After laughing about my accident proneness, we ended up discussing the differences between the universes. The Zeppelins being the obvious forerunner, followed by the smaller differences. Harriet Jones being President. I shared my story of being the Prime Minister's wife. Jake and Mickey shared their escape of Paris' Cybernetic Factory. Jack shared a (fictional) story involving most of the main characters being naked.

That was how the next two months went. Wake up, eat, go to work, ignore Jack's flirting, try to understand the theory behind the dimension cannon, go home with Jack, swap insane stories, eat, sleep.

There were brief alterations to the schedule, such as attend functions as the 'Vitex heiress'. And the night that Mum announced she was pregnant. Which is also when I announced I was too. But other than that, there were no changes until almost six months since I'd been left here. There was a voice in my dream that spoke to me, saying:

"Rose..."