Listen up, everyone. I know this should be a given considering what we're dealing with, but I'm just going to say it anyway. So consider this your trigger warning from now until the end of The Year that Never Was. There will be blood, violence, gore, angst, death, suicide, and probably drug use in there somewhere (if only by mention) throughout the entire arc.

You have been warned.

Martha did the math during the first night as they hid out in an empty house somewhere to the East of London. There were no animals chattering. Not even the crickets chirped. It was as if the world was in shock from what had happened. All they could hear were the distant cries and gunshots from the town center where all the survivors had been, or were being herded. Huddled in the dark kitchen, Martha muttered three words, "Six hundred million."

Rose didn't even need to ask her what she meant. It only took the Toclafane an hour to complete their orders. "Eliminate one-tenth of the population." There were six billion people in the world, and one tenth of that was six hundred million. Six hundred million people…killed within the span of an hour. Even after all she'd seen, she found it difficult to process. How could so many people just be gone? It was worse than any war Earth had ever seen, the bloodiest massacre in history.

They'd chosen this house because its residents were lying dead in the front yard. After trying three other houses and finding at least one corpse in each, they decided to try their luck in a house that had dead people on the lawn. It had paid off. A thorough search of the house had revealed no additional corpses. Rose couldn't help but think of the five people—two parents, a teenage son and daughter, and a little girl no older than five—who lay dead in the yard as she searched their rooms for things to keep her alive.

They'd set up camp in the kitchen where they would have easy access to the water as well as the refrigerator. The power was still working, so the food in there was safe for the time being. They loaded the nonperishable food—several cans of fruit and vegetables, one of ravioli, granola bars, crisps, a box of cereal, trail mix, beef jerky—into one of two sturdy brown backpacks they found upstairs, along with a can opener and a few pieces of silverware. The other backpack they left empty for a torch, batteries, two blankets, and anything else they thought they might need.

They'd made a small bed in the kitchen from sofa pillows and cushions and the duvet from the parent's room upstairs. Not entirely trusting their perception filters, Rose suggested they take turns keeping watch, and volunteered to take the first one. She wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. Time felt strange around her. It was like the air just a bit too thick, but the space around her was emptier than it should be. Every so often she would feel an itch somewhere on her skin, but no matter how much she scratched, nothing helped. Martha eventually had to stop her because she was starting to bleed.

Rose did not sleep that first night or the second. They spent the days entirely on the move, heading further away from London. The Doctor said they had to spread the word, but at this point it was probably best to just lay low and wait until the new world order was established and learn how it worked. Then they could begin their mission.

The further away from London they got, they fewer Toclafane they saw. Martha reckoned they were herding everyone into the towns and cities for some sort of census. As much as they wanted to know what was going on, they agreed it would be better to find their information away from London just in case their perception filters were penetrated. No doubt the Master wanted them back and had ordered his people to watch out for them.

On the third evening, they encountered their first group of rogue humans who'd managed to escape the Toclafane's initial roundups. There were two men, a young woman, a teenage girl, an elderly woman, and two children—all of them armed—scavenging for food in a petrol station. Neither Martha nor Rose wanted to approach them in case they reacted with hostility or violence. So instead, the two women stood outside the building in the shadow of a pump, and simply watched the five people round up what they could stuff into their packs and pockets.

At one point, it seemed the smallest of the children—a girl, by the look of her, but it was difficult to tell since most of the child's head was hidden beneath a large beanie—could see them standing out there by the pumps. She stared at them for a long minute, squinting and shifting her head from side to side like she was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She probably would've eventually seen through it if one of the men hadn't snapped at her. Rose and Martha used the distraction to duck behind the pump.

When they were gone, Martha and Rose moved in. They set up in the back near the coolers. Rose had barely curled under her blanket, and dropped her head onto her balled up jacket before she was out cold. Two days of tension and strenuous exercise with no sleep was more than her body could handle. Next thing she knew it was morning, and Martha was bringing her a bowl of cereal and some bananas. Before giving them to her, however, the med student extracted a promise that there would be no more going days without sleeping.

If they weren't on the run with the world gone to hell around them, it would've almost been monotonous. Hours and hours of walking almost nonstop. They found a pair of bikes at noon on day four and decided to risk travelling on the roads for the sake of moving faster. They had no idea where they were most of the time, only that they were still heading northeast. They spent a lot of time talking, Martha taking the opportunity to ask Rose about her time with Torchwood. Rose readily supplied her with story after story about aliens, her coworkers, or just silly things that happened. It was better than silence.

Silence left them plenty of time to think about their situation, or those they'd left behind. If they dwelled on either for too long they might go mad.

By day five, Martha began to notice something that could become problematic very soon. The roots in Rose's hair had already been showing through when they'd found her in Torchwood, but now they'd reached the point where they really needed to be touched up. She waited until they were walking down the street in a small village before bringing it up.

"This is hardly the time for vanity, Martha," Rose admonished.

"No, but you stand out like this. What if… There's a chemist just over there." She gestured with her thumb. "They might have hair dye."

Rose considered for a moment. The Master would probably have given orders to look for a black woman and a blonde. If she changed her hair color it definitely would give them a bit more obscurity. So they hurried across the street to the chemist and Rose spent the next fifteen minutes looking through the selection of hair dyes and comparing them to find the one that was closest to her natural color. They dyed it in the restroom in the back of the store and ate lunch while they waited for the color to finish sitting. Once that was done, they each took turns using the sink to wash up. They entertained the idea of using some of the makeup that remained virtually untouched on aisle five. But what was the point? No one could see them anyway.

All things considered, they did quite well for that first week. They saw a handful of other humans hiding out but they didn't approach any of them. For the most part, though, the Toclafane and soldiers had done a good job of rounding everyone up. They spent the sixth day on the edge of a town square listening as a group of soldiers addressed the population. They were requesting those with any special skills or trades to come forward for assignments suited to their talents. Mostly doctors, nurses, former or currently enlisted soldiers, and scientists came forward and they were led away to be "assessed", whatever that meant. Everyone else was informed their assignments would come soon enough.

Then on the seventh day as they were creeping around the edges of a town, they spotted a hunting and camping supplies store. After checking to make sure there were no soldiers or metal balls whizzing about, they eagerly hurried up the road to the store. The windows had been smashed and glass littered the inside. They carefully stepped over the broken glass, and then looked around at the smorgasbord of supplies before them. A lot of the stock was missing which meant people had already come to gather materials to hide out in the wilds.

They picked their way through the store and what supplies were left. Most of the weapons were long gone but Rose found a pair of multitools which she tucked into her pocket as well as a folding knife buried beneath a pile of camouflage hats. They found some camouflage shirts and readily swapped them for the dirty ones they'd been wearing for over a week. They also swapped the backpacks they'd found the first night for sturdier ones intended for camping trips with a lot more pockets. They found a set of outdoor cooking utensils—a pot, skillet, and two rings each containing a knife, fork, and spoon—as well as a collapsible grate, two packs of fire starters, and a case of matches.

"We're not gonna be able to sleep inside every night," Rose pointed out. They also decided grabbing a tent and some bug spray would be useful for those times as well.

About halfway through their search, Rose heard a loud humming sound that turned her blood to ice. "Toclafane!" she gasped.

Martha dropped the box she was holding and looked around wildly. "Behind the counter, quick!" She hissed, abandoning her backpack, and raced to the front of the store. Rose was right behind her. They hefted themselves up and over the counter, dropping down behind, and pressed themselves firmly against the wall.

Rose pressed her hand firmly over Martha's mouth to muffle her breathing and they waited in tense silence as the droning became louder and separated into a pair of nearly identical hums. They were inside. The women listened as they flew slowly around the shop, checking for any humans.

Then a female voice cooed, "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Martha inhaled sharply and Rose shot her a warning look. They had their perception filters on. They'd be fine as long as they didn't draw attention to themselves. Though she still had to mash her lips firmly together and resist the urge to whimper when the Toclafane floated over the counter to have a look behind it. There was a tense moment as it turned this way and that, but then it finally gave up and moved on.

"I don't think they want to come out," said the other Toclafane, also female.

"Let's blow it up, then."

Martha gasped again and they exchanged horrified looks. Not caring about whether or not they were seen, the moment the Toclafane left the building they launched themselves up and over the counter and tore up the aisle toward the rear exit. Rose burst through the door and it hit the wall with a loud BANG. They raced across the alleyway and met a chain-link fence separating the store's property from the woods. Rose hefted herself up and over it, landing in a crouch. Martha had barely made it over when the shop suddenly exploded.

Rose was knocked face-first into the dirt from the force rippling out of the building, and her body screamed in protest from the rush of heat. The world around them shuddered from the aftershocks as Rose raised her head. Craning her neck, she saw the burning ruins of the camping supply store and realize with horror that they'd left their backpacks—with all their supplies—inside. People were screaming nearby and she heard Martha groan quietly next to her. The two Toclafane who'd blown up the building had already been joined by two more. More would probably come soon, drawn in by the explosion.

"Get up," Rose gasped as she pushed herself to her knees. Her back and left wrist screamed in protest but she knew any damage to it was already being taken care of. "We gotta go. Martha, get up!" She glanced over her shoulder again; there were five. "They're coming."

Martha slowly pushed herself to her knees and Rose grabbed her shoulders, helping her up the rest of the way. With another look back at the Toclafane—seven now—they walked as quickly as they could towards the trees. Martha had a limp, Rose noted grimly. That meant she'd have to heal her and they'd just lost their food.

"Ow, ow, ow," Martha whimpered as she was forced to put all her weight on her right foot to get over a large root in their path.

"Just a bit further," Rose told her. "Then I'll heal you."

Martha nodded stiffly. "All our supplies…" she said mournfully.

"We'll worry about that later." ...Though she was already worrying about them. They should've kept their bags with them. They were probably what had tipped the Toclafane off to begin with. Now they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the contents of their pockets. She was glad, at least, that she'd been wearing Jack's manipulator on her wrist instead of keeping it one of the bags or else it'd be long gone. He would never have forgiven her for that.

When they were a quarter of a mile into the woods, Rose found a sturdy tree with a nice gap in the roots for Martha to sit in and then she lowered her friend to the ground.

"Okay, tell me what hurts," Rose ordered.

"Ankle," Martha muttered. "Landed on it funny. Think it's just a sprain."

Rose carefully removed Martha's boot and sock and ran her fingers across the foot. "Anything else?"

"Cut my knee on the fence." Rose nodded to herself, but before she had the chance to start, Martha stopped her. "Wait. Are you—I mean—can you—without passing out?"

"I should be fine. This isn't anything major. But you're still probably going to have to go back and find me food."

"Deal."

She reached for the healing energy inside her—somewhat depleted from healing herself—and made it flow down to her hand. She placed her glowing palm on Martha's ankle and her perception expanded throughout her body. Heart rate elevated and breathing unsteady—normal considering the circumstances—bruising on her abs from impact, a thin cut in her knee (probably from the fence), and a tear in the ligament in her right ankle. She worked her finger through the rip in Martha's jeans to touch the cut on her knee. She clotted the blood and gave the skin cells the tiny boost they needed to heal right up. The ligaments took a little longer to coax back together, but she managed even though her head was swimming dangerously. She drew back, letting the energy taper off, and she exhaled in a quick puff. Rose leaned forward onto her hands and took a few deep breaths.

Martha wiggled her foot around to test it and gave her knee a quick once-over. "You're a little scary with that," she informed her.

Rose smiled feebly. "You should've been there when I had to heal Owen."

"What happened to him?"

"Got his throat ripped out by a weevil."

Martha winced.

"Can y'stand?"

Martha swiped her tongue across her lips and bent her knee, pressing down on her foot experimentally. "Think so," she reported. She rolled onto her knees and used the tree trunk to steady herself as she got to her feet. She shifted her weight on and off her foot for a few seconds and then nodded once. "Scary. Alright, what about you? Can you walk?"

Rose wiggled her feet experimentally and was pleased when her body didn't protest. "Yeah." But, then, when she thought about how long it had been since they'd properly eaten, she knew going forward wasn't a good idea. "But I won't get very far. I need to eat."

Martha muttered something under her breath and looked in the direction they'd come from. She was quiet for a minute. "What do you need to get yourself going quickly?"

"Protein and vitamin C the most. Nuts and fruit are really good. Dunno if you'll find any cheese left since the power's out, but if you can. Eggs… Vitamin waters would probably help. And any of those meal replacement shakes or bars."

"Got it. You stay here."

Rose nodded and scooted into the small space where Martha had been sitting moments before. She shifted around to get comfortable then pulled her knees up to her chest. The movement called attention to the items in her jacket pockets and she recalled suddenly two of the things she'd pocketed back in the store. She sifted through the pocket and pulled out the multitool and the knife, handing them to Martha.

"Smart move," Martha commented as she tucked the multitool the pocket of her trousers and the knife into her bra. "I'll be back soon."

"Good luck." Her friend smiled at her once more before setting off. Rose listened to the sound of Martha's footsteps growing fainter and fainter until they faded altogether. Then there was nothing but the wind through the leaves, the chatter and shrieks of animals, and the occasional hum of bugs buzzing nearby. She kept her ears peeled for the telltale sound of an approaching Toclafane.

She must've dozed at some point during the wait because the next thing she knew, it was nighttime and she could feel something warming her skin. Opening her eyes, she saw a small fire going a few feet away with a battered grate resting over it. Martha sat next to it with a small skillet in her hands and a light blue backpack at her side. Rose shifted around, noting the aches in her muscles from lying still for so long. There was a sheet draped over her as well.

Noticing the movement, Martha glanced over, saw she was awake and smiled. "Found you some eggs." She held up the skillet which Rose noticed seemed a bit lopsided, as if part of it had started to melt. "And some protein bars and trail mix. We'll have to share those, though. Most of the houses were occupied or had already been raided. I was lucky to find what I did. Picked my way through the remains of the store, too, once they'd cooled down. Couldn't find our packs—big surprise—but I found a few things. No silverware, though."

Rose smiled. "Nice job." Then she finally realized how hungryshe was and her smile twisted into a grimace. Martha plucked a deformed metal lump that somewhat resembled a cup from backpack and used it to scoop pieces of the fried eggs out of the skillet. Setting the skillet down, she scooted over to Rose who accepted the cup gratefully. And while she was busy inhaling the eggs, Martha unwrapped two protein bars and opened a bottle of water for her as well.

"It's almost not worth it," Martha remarked as Rose ate.

"Hmm?"

"Your power, I mean. What good is it if it leaves you weak?"

"Some things can't be recovered from, at least not quickly enough." Rose took a bite of the protein bar, chewed quickly, and swallowed. "If I hadn't healed your foot then we'd never get anywhere. I can bounce back from this no problem. It's worth it."

"But what if you can't? What happens if you drain yourself too much?"

Rose paused mid-chew, cocking her head to the side. She'd be lying if she said that had never crossed her mind, but did she really want Martha fretting over that? Oh, hell, she'd probably figure it out on her own anyway. "Suspect I'd die."

"Oh, that's great. Hi Doctor. I'm sorry I let your girlfriend die. How did it happen? Oh, she drained herself healing some knob who got himself hurt." She scowled. "That'll go over well."

"Well, then, I'll just have to make sure I don't do that."

Rose took a longer time recovering. Normally all it took was some rest and food, and she was back on her feet within an hour or so. Maybe it was how little food she'd consumed, maybe it was because they were in the middle of a earth-shattering paradox, or maybe it was something else altogether. Regardless, the problem still remained and it was well after nine before she was confident enough to stand. And they weren't able to make it more than a few kilometers before she had to rest and eat some trail mix.

Around four am, Martha decided they should probably just stop and get some sleep. Judging by the number of stars they could see through the canopy above them, they were miles from any towns or cities. Assuming the power was on. They laid one sheet on the ground so they wouldn't have to sleep right on the grass and dirt, and used the other sheet for warmth. Rose volunteered to sit guard since she wasn't sleepy, just tired, and insisted there was a difference.

Martha awoke seven hours later to find Rose fast asleep next to her. But they were both still alive and all their stuff was intact so she couldn't be too mad. She waited until noon to wake her up and after rolling their sheets and stowing them in the light blue pack, they set out east once more, munching on a single protein bar each.

The long, uninterrupted sleep had done her good. Rose was moving steadily and color had finally returned to her cheeks. But Martha was worried. It had taken hours for her to recover from something as small as healing a cut and a sprain and whatever minor injuries she'd sustained. If it was going to be like this from now on, her abilities could really prove to be more of a burden than an asset. She seriously hoped the sluggishness was because of her lack of food. In which case, they would have to make sure they always had enough on-hand in case she needed to heal.

They were down to two protein bars and the bag of trail mix now. They'd have to find more food today.

And a map. They really needed a map.

Gradually the trees began to thin out and they eventually left the forest behind to continue on through open fields. Farmlands, Martha realized, as the ground beneath her feet became marked with plow tracks. That meant there had to be a farmhouse nearby. Rose spotted it first, about half a mile to the north of their location: a two-story house, garage, and a barn. It took them ten minutes of walking to reach it.

They stood at the entrance to the drive and stared up at the house. There were two possibilities: either the house was empty or it wasn't. They couldn't hear any animals in the barn, which meant they'd either died, or there weren't any in there at all. The latter was more likely since the stink of death wasn't hanging in the air. No movement inside the house, either.

"Should we risk it?" Martha asked.

"We need food and water," Rose replied.

"Yeah, but if there's people inside, then they need it, too. Do you really wanna risk killing someone just for food?"

"N-no, but…this might be the only house for miles. At least if there's people inside they may be able to point us in the direction of the nearest town. We gotta at least try."

Martha considered it for a moment. "You got that gun?"

"'Course."

"Good."

Rose unzipped her jacket, removing the handgun from its holster at her waist. She checked the ammunition then returned it to its holster. Satisfied, Martha nodded once and they headed up the drive together.

They tried the front door first. Locked. The back door, the cellar door, and all of the windows, too—locked up good and tight. There were no broken windows on the upper story, either, which meant no Toclafane had broken in. Martha was seriously beginning to suspect that there was someone inside the house, and if not the house, then the barn or the garage.

She circled the house once more and found Rose at the front door again. She motioned her up onto the porch insistently. Martha glanced around and crept up the stairs to her. Rose lifted two fingers and held them out towards her at a slight angle—her silent way of asking for permission to use telepathy. Martha bit back a sigh and nodded once. Apparently, her mind wasn't very heavily guarded, and therefore very easy for Rose to access. This was not the first time she'd asked to use telepathy for communication and it really was dead useful. But that didn't mean she liked it. At least she knew Rose wouldn't go poking about in her head.

She could feel her there, a warm spot on the edge of her mind. Not invasive, not annoying, simply present. Don't waste time searching the entire house. Rose's voice flitted through her mind and she had to resist the urge to flinch. We find the kitchen, get some food, and we get the hell out.

Martha nodded. This telepathy thing was a one-way street. She didn't know how to talk back, or, rather, put her own thoughts into Rose's head. Hell, she didn't even know if she could. She wasn't telepathic and Rose never went far enough into her mind to hear what she was thinking.

I'm gonna keep us linked.

Martha furrowed her brow in confusion.

It will let me know if you're in trouble. I'll explain later.

She nodded once.

Rose pulled the glove off her right hand, inhaled slowly through her nose, and pressed her fingers against the crevice between the door and the frame where the deadbolt was. At first her skin seemed to shine and then the golden light seeped out of her skin and filled the space around her hand.

Martha frowned the tiniest bit. She'd never say it aloud, but Rose's unearthly powers unnerved her. She'd always been a bit odd, always had those weird little quirks and connection to the sentient ship they lived in, but this went beyond that. This was more than just pains and tingles because of something around them; she was using some supernatural force to influence things. And it was scary, the things she could do…and the untapped potential waiting there. If it weren't for the toll her powers took on her, she could end up being very, very dangerous.

A moment later the light died and she drew her hand back. Martha put her hand on her shoulder just in case but Rose didn't even wobble.

Destroying things is so much easier than fixing them. The quiet thought trickled through Martha's mind and she shivered once. Rose slipped her glove back on then reached for the handle, turning it, and pulled the door open.

Directly inside the door was a small foyer complete with a coat rack and a large wicker basket, its lid propped just barely open by a child's tiny sandal that had missed its destination in a moment of carelessness. Or perhaps displaced in the desperate flurry to grab shoes appropriate for escaping. Martha carefully entered the house, expecting someone to rush out at her at any moment. No one came and she let out a breath she'd hardly been aware of holding. Rose crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind her, and together they surveyed the house.

To right of the foyer was a staircase leading up to the second level, and on the left, a door leading into a living room. A can of beer sat on the table in front of the tan couch that was missing all its cushions. She frowned at it for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was so different about it, before shaking her head and continuing her inspection. Opposite of the front door was a small hallway lined with pictures that led into what appeared to be a dining room. The walls were a plain off-white, only a shade lighter than the exterior of the house, and most of the hardwood floors were well trodden or covered by worn rugs.

Martha advanced slowly down the hall, wincing every time the floor creaked under her or Rose's feet. Like it made any difference. If there was anyone inside they would've probably heard the door open.

He's going to destroy the world. Rose mumbled in her mind and she stiffened in surprise but kept going. Makes you wonder how we're gonna fix it with just words.

Yeah, it did. The Doctor's plan, it…well, to be honest, it was a textbook long shot. The definition of 'one in a million'. But it was all they had.

Martha was pleased to find that the dining room was connected right to the kitchen, separated only by an island that extended from the wall. She glanced at Rose then the two of them rushed around the wooden table into the kitchen. The refrigerator was missing its telltale hum so there was no point in looking in there. They flitted through the cupboards, sorting through cans and boxes. Canned fruits and vegetables mostly, some beans, a few of tuna. They took one of each. Rose found a loaf of bread and loaded it into the bag immediately. Martha found several boxes of crisps and biscuits already opened. She removed the clip off of one of the potato crisp bags and removed one, tossing it in her mouth experimentally.

The salty taste exploded on her tongue and she smiled happily. They were only a little stale and definitely worth the space. She closed it back up and tossed it to Rose. She went through the same process with the other bags and boxes she was interested in keeping, while Rose rummaged through the drawers. She found a roll of tape and a ball of rubber bands, which she tucked into the side pockets of the light blue backpack.

We really need another bag. Rose said in her mind. I'm going to see if I can find anything upstairs. Keep looking. See if you can find any bottled water.

Martha glanced her way and nodded then continued tasting the chips.

Rose left the backpack with Martha and headed back towards the staircase in the foyer. She spared the pictures on the wall a passing glance. A blonde man, a dark-haired woman, and a little girl with long brown hair were featured in most of them. Where were they now?

She put her hand on the post at the bottom of the stairs and swung herself around. She ascended the stairs slowly, mindful of the creaking boards. At the top of the stairs, the hallway branched off in two directions, one longer than the other. The short hallway had two doors: an open one that led into a bathroom and a closed one that was too narrow to be anything but a cupboard, probably full of linens considering its proximity to the loo. The other way had five doors, two of them open and the others shut. Sunlight streamed through the doors open to the west. She waited for any sign of movement or a flicker of a shadow.

When nothing happened, she carefully proceeded down the hall. She looked in the open doors first. One was full of boxes, a storage room. The other was furnished sparingly, just enough to be homey, and the simple bed was covered in a yellow duvet—a guest room. She gave the storage room a quick once-over but the boxes were mostly filled with decorations and one contained old toys. Nothing useful.

Opening the door across the hall from the guest room revealed a small office, complete with a computer and printer. She rummaged through the desk drawers and procured a few pens, a pad of paper, and a pair of scissors. Other than that there was nothing of any real value. No backpacks or suitcases. Not even a briefcase.

Just as she was leaving the office, she heard it: a small thud and the tiniest cry of pain. Not Martha. It was too young and too close.

She checked her link to Martha's mind, still intact, thankfully—she'd had plenty of practice with telepathic communication over distances but she sometimes struggled to maintain the link—and sent a quick warning to her. Someone's upstairs. She felt a flash of panic from Martha's end. Don't come up here. Just get ready to run. I'm gonna investigate.

Rose set the supplies she'd scavenged on the ground outside the door and surveyed the hall. Two doors remained unopened. One at the far end and one just next to the guest room and unless she was mistaken, the cry had come from the latter. She took a deep breath and crossed the hall, carefully gripping the handle. She didn't have to open it. She didn't have to know who was inside. She could leave now with Martha and no one would get hurt. Except, maybe, whoever was inside, since they'd be absconding with their food supply, unless they left some behind. But what she heard hadn't been a cry of fear. It had been pain. Rose sighed in defeat and opened the door slowly.

The walls were a soft green and the drapes the color of the sky that the duvet and pillows on the twin-sized bed matched. A wooden bookcase in the corner had been painted the same shade as drapes and the vanity matched the walls. Pictures of flowers and butterflies hung from the walls and the. Another bookcase rested against the opposite wall, its shelves lined with an array of toys.

It was the little girl's bedroom.

And the little girl herself was peeking out from the far side of the bed, eyes wide with terror. She was about eleven, her pretty brown hair twisted into twin braids that had mostly fallen loose.

It's a kid. Rose sent to Martha. "Hello," she greeted softly. The girl said nothing. Rose took a step into the room and the girl whimpered loudly, flinching away.

"St-stay away!" the girl stuttered. She winced, face contorting with pain.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. On my life, I swear." She held her hands up and took another step forward. "You look like you're in pain already. I can help you."

The girl looked her up and down, eyes lingering on the gun at her waist. "I heard you downstairs. You're stealing our food," she accused. She had a thick Northern accent, like Rose's first Doctor. They must be farther north than she'd thought.

Rose had no defense for that so she nodded. "We've been traveling for days and we lost most of our food while we were escaping the Toclafane."

"We need to eat, too."

Rose cocked her head, acknowledging this, and then pressed her lips together pensively. She took another step forward, careful to keep her distance from the bed. The girl watched her like a hawk. When she got far enough around she was able to see the little girl fully. She wore a long dark blue skirt, a white t-shirt; a sock on her right foot and her left foot, swollen and bruised, was wrapped in ace bandages.

"What happened?" Rose asked.

"I…think I broke it," the girl admitted after a moment. "Can't exactly go to the doctor, though."

Rose scraped her teeth across her bottom lip pensively. She couldn't just leave the poor kid like this. When the soldiers and the Toclafane found this farm—and it was when, not if—they would search inside the house for people and unless she was very, very lucky, they would find her. Healthy, she stood a chance of being kept alive. Injured, they would kill her. They'd already killed six hundred million; one child more wouldn't make any difference to them.

Slowly, she walked towards the girl, removing the glove from her right hand as she went. The girl watched her warily but didn't move or scream. Rose knelt down in front of her and brushed her fingers across the base of her toes along the edges of the purple bruising.

"What's your name?"

"Callie."

"Would you like me to fix this up for you, Callie?"

Callie blinked in surprise. "Well, uh, yeah. I mean, if you can, that'd be great. But how…?"

Rose inhaled slowly through her nose, focusing on the power inside, and directed it down through her hand. Worming her fingers underneath the ace wrap, Rose pressed her hand firmly against the top of Callie's foot. The little girl stiffened, fisting her hands in her duvet, and let out a yelp at the pressure.

"What are you doing?!" she wailed.

"Helping," Rose promised as her perception expanded through Callie's entire body. Heart rate elevated, no doubt a reaction to the pain, and her breathing was a bit unsteady, but otherwise her vitals were fine. She focused on the injured foot and the damage to it. Three out of five of the long bones in the middle of her foot had been broken in two and the other bones had small cracks in in them.

The poor thing, how had she managed this? She had to be taking something otherwise the pain would be unbearable.

Shutting her eyes, Rose went to work, mending each bone one at a time. She did her best to ensure the areas around the breaks were not left weak but reinforcing bone wasn't a task she really could devote much energy to. She soothed the tension in nearby muscles and tendons so she'd be able to move her foot around without any residual pain.

Just before she began to retreat, she heard a shotgun cock and panicked, abruptly severing the connection between herself and the girl as she twisted around. Burning pain flared in her hand as the energy attempting to leave her abruptly met a dead end. She hissed in pain, jerking her hand close to her chest as she turned. But the hasty movement was too much and her head spun dizzily. She felt her shoulder hit the edge of the bed and she stared blearily up at the blurry figure in the doorway.

"Get away from my daughter!"

He loomed over them with the shotgun pointed directly at her head. He took a step towards her menacingly and she was able to see him clearly. Tall and blonde, wearing dark jacket and jeans: the man from the photographs downstairs. And he was furious.

"Get away from her or I swear—"

"Da, wait!" Callie cried. "She helped me!"

"What?"

She heard Callie shifting around behind her, probably testing out her foot. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just stopped! Look!" Something thumped lightly against the ground over and over. "It doesn't hurt! She made it better!"

The man's eyes flicked between his daughter and Rose for a moment and then he lowered the gun. Rose exhaled in relief and rested her head against the edge of the bed. She felt a pair of small hands on her shoulder and Callie's face slipped into her field of vision.

"Thank you! Are you alright?"

"I will be." Rose assured her. She glanced up at the man standing over her and behind him at Martha standing in the doorway briefly before returning her eyes to him. "Though I really could do with some food."

"You were swipin' our food before you came up here," Callie pointed out as she started to get to her feet.

"Careful. I haven't had much experience mending broken bones. You might still be a bit weak."

"I'll be okay. Hey!" Callie shot her a look. "Don't change the subject."

She sighed. "Consider it a trade, then?" Rose suggested. She glanced at Martha again. "I healed you, now I get some food to replenish the energy I used to do it."

Callie shifted her weight from foot to foot gingerly and wiggled her toes. "Callie, sit on the bed," her father ordered, and she did. He set his gun down on the opposite side from Rose and knelt in front of his daughter, and ran his fingers across her healed foot, pressing down intermittently. She didn't even wince. The man shook his head slowly in disbelief before turning his gaze to Rose. "How?"

"It's…just something I can do."

He quirked one eyebrow. "Why?"

"I couldn't just leave her like that, not when I could help her."

The man considered her for a moment and then a smile slowly spread across his face and he extended his hand. "Jonah." She took it and he helped her to stand. "I reckon we owe you a meal…and a place to sleep for the night, if you want."

"Thank you." Rose said with a smile. "But, ah, could you make that for two?"

"Two?" he demanded.

From the doorway, Martha cleared her throat loudly, shattering the perception filter around her. Jonah jumped half a foot in the air and spun around. She smiled nervously, waving once. "Hi."

Rose couldn't see Jonah's face but from the way Martha pressed her lips together to hide a smile, she imagined it was quite comical.

There was no electricity in the house and building a fire outside could've attracted attention so they had to cook in the barn. Jonah had set up a little cooking area in one of the empty stalls a few days prior, when the power had first gone out. Nothing much, just a grill grate over a small fire pit, but it did the job, he said. Jonah and Martha worked for an hour to make a hot meal while Callie and Rose waited nearby.

"You were the two women on the Valiant," Jonah said later that evening as the four of them sat against the walls with bowls of clam chowder in their laps, warm toast balanced on their knees, and warm mugs of tea beside their legs.

Martha froze with the spoon halfway to her mouth then lowered it back to the bowl cradled in her other hand, and glanced at Rose who was studying the man critically, weighing her answer. "Interesting assumption."

"More I looked at you earlier, more I swore you was familiar. It's your hair that's been throwing me off, but I recognize you now. We were watching when it happened, just like the rest of the world. You were there. And just before that, you were listed on the news as terrorists."

"And if we were?" she asked stiffly.

He shrugged and took a bite of the chowder. "No need to get all defensive. Just makin' an observation."

Rose relaxed and went back to her food. Martha let out a tiny sigh of relief and lifted the spoonful of soup up to her mouth. Clam chowder, not her favorite, but food was food.

"Mind, you seemed to know who he was. You all had that 'old enemies' vibe going on."

"You could say that," Martha muttered around her spoon.

"Is he your archenemy?" Callie asked with a gleam of delight in her eye.

Rose sighed and crossed her legs, setting the bowl in the small space in her lap. "Not ours. The Doctor—the tall man in the suit, the one who got…aged—" she said the word like it was a curse "—up there on the Valiant; he's his archenemy. It's been that way for centuries. I only recently became a part of it. And Martha wasn't really involved until about a week ago."

Jonah pointed at her with his spoon. "Did you say centuries?" he said around a mouth full of soup. Rose nodded. "But—how? Who is he? And who are you?"

At first, Rose didn't answer. She dipped her spoon into the chowder and lifted it to her mouth. As she did, she lifted her fore and middle finger together, and glanced at Martha. She jerked her head down once and Rose's mind slipped into hers.

The Doctor did tell us to tell everyone about him. We've been keeping away from people so far. Time for a trial run?

Well, they had to start somewhere. Martha nodded once.

Okay. Chime in whenever.

Rose withdrew from her mind and addressed Jonah. "Harold Saxon is the identity created by a homicidal alien psychopath called the Master."

Jonah and Callie exchanged looks but neither of them seemed really surprised. After this last week, she could've probably said he was a vampire and they wouldn't have been fazed.

"He's been to Earth a lot of times before now, but the Doctor always stopped him before he ever did something on this scale."

"We tried to stop him this time, too," Martha added. "We really did."

The man snorted. "Good job."

"Don't pin this on us. This is your fault, too—you voted for him," Rose said. "Don't deny it."

Jonah looked up sharply. "How was I supposed to know what he was really like? He always seemed so…so…"

"I know, it's okay." she sighed. "The Master's got telepathic abilities and he uses them to sort of…hypnotize people. His range is limited so he created the Archangel Network to extend it across the whole world."

"But Archangel's a mobile phone network."

"On the surface," Martha agreed. "But underneath that was another signal that he controlled and it broadcasted through the phones, all over the world. That's how he was able to convince you all he was this great person."

"And it's still broadcasting. A psychic field binding the entire human race," Rose added quietly. "But I don't know what it's doing now since everyone sees through him."

"Can you beat him?" Callie asked.

"No. But the Doctor can."

"And who's he?"

For a moment, pain and love warred for the primary expression on her face and finally settled on something like pride. "He's an alien. Same species as the Master, same home planet, probably around the same age, too. But he's nothing like the Master. He's—he's wonderful. He saves planets and people all across the universe. He's saved Earth so many times. He makes the impossible choices so no one else has to, and he's sacrificed so much for the sake of the universe and he never gets anything in return. When I first met him he was so lost and broken but he was still trying to save the word. The hospital that got taken to the moon the other day, he brought it back. The Daleks and Cybermen last year, the Sycorax at Christmas, the aliens that wrecked Big Ben—he stopped all of that. And that's just in the last few years."

Jonah and Callie listened raptly, taking bites of their chowder every so often, as Rose told them more about things he'd done on other planets and further back in Earth's past, and Martha chimed in occasionally when she saw fit. She even told the story about the acid handcuffs and how he'd worked hard to save her. Neither Rose nor Martha mentioned time traveling, and as they didn't ask how Rose had been there in the incident that saved Queen Victoria in the 1800s.

Rose suspected they thought the two of them were aliens. Or that at least that she was. After all, what human could heal broken bones the way Rose had?

"Do you love him?" Callie asked at one point.

Rose smiled, then, a real, genuine smile. "Very much."

"So are you an alien, too?"

"No." She gestured between herself and Martha. "We're humans."

"B-but then how did you fix my foot earlier?"

"Ah…that's a long story."

"And it's really not important," Martha interjected. "What's important is stopping the Master. The Doctor has a plan and it's up to all of us—all of planet Earth—to make it work. You've gotta tell people about him. Anyone and everyone you meet that can be trusted. Tell them about the Doctor. Tell them the things we told you."

Jonah sighed loudly. "Seriously? How is that supposed to help?"

Rose smiled wickedly. She spent the next five minutes explaining the Doctor's plan for using the telepathic power of the entire human race and stressing the need for secrecy. If the Master found out what they were planning, he'd find some way to counteract it. When she was done, they spent the next few minutes in silence as they finished their meal.

"Martha, can I talk with you for a sec?" Jonah asked as he set down his empty bowl. "Callie, wait here with Rose."

"Kay," his daughter mumbled around the food in her mouth.

The two of them stood and Jonah led her across to the far side of the barn, just beyond hearing distance of the stall. "Not an idiot, me," he muttered. "My brother went to get food and medical supplies from Whitchurch a few days ago and he ain't come back. Don't reckon he will. I can't leave Cal on her own to get any more food or supplies. We're either gonna run out of food or we're gonna get found. Either way, we're runnin' out of time here."

"You can't come with us." Martha interrupted, pulling her TARDIS key from beneath her shirt. "The Doctor made these for us. They provide a perception filter that lets us go unnoticed. It's how Rose and I have made it this far. But it can't do the same for you, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. You're gonna be goin' all over the world. That's not somethin' I wanna sign myself up for—never mind Callie. No, I plan on headin' to Whitchurch as soon as we run out of food, if they haven't found us first. I just wanted to let you know, that I'll make sure to tell your story when I get there. I'll tell them about Martha Jones and Rose Tyler, the two women who're gonna save the world, and their Doctor."

Sorry for the delays. I've been busy and my muse, it seems, has taken a vacation. For the first time since this story began, the chapter after this has not been completed. It's weird, actually, and a bit stressful. I like having buffers between the current chapter and the one I'm working on.

Anyway, y'know the drill. Review (nearin 1700 and if we make it to 2000 before the story's end I will be a happy Moon), tell your friends, all that jazz.