Sorry for the wait. My computer crapped out on me. Long story short: it's got a brain injury that's fixable and it's been repaired right now. In the meantime, I'm using a loaner from school. But I only just got data off my hard drive a few days ago, hence the extra long chapter delay e.e

Anywho, here's the chapter.

When the Trucail docked in Boston, Rose and Martha learned that the rebellion there had been defeated early on and was ruled by the UCFs. Patrick told them to go to New York City. Their shipment to the city had been withheld at the last minute, and orders had been given to avoid the city. This meant something big was going down, and whoever was in charge didn't want the supplies on the ship getting stolen.

The pair found Boston's remaining resistance groups easily enough, and were given a wealth of information about how the first few weeks had been for America. Philadelphia, Baltimore, and most of the major cities had all met similar fates as Boston. Word had come from survivors in Baltimore that most of Washington DC's infrastructure had been spared, but very few people made it out. The UNIT branch had been decimated.

But New York City remained, the one city that refused to fall. According to the reports and rumors, it was an all-out warzone. Citizens and military fought side by side versus the Master's troops—but not the Toclafane…not yet.

After spending three weeks moving around the lower New England area, they caught a ride on a supply convoy heading to the aid of the NYC. They figured they had to at least see what was going on for themselves before running the other way. And, from the way it sounded, UNIT was still alive and kicking there. It could be extremely beneficial if UNIT was on their side. But they agreed that lingering in the city wouldn't be safe. Really, it was a miracle the Toclafane hadn't descended yet.

Arriving in the outer boroughs of New York, they were warned it could take a day or more for transport into Manhattan to be arranged. They decided to spend that time talking to the non-combatant civilians. They managed to meet with a few small groups of people before a man in a uniform overheard Martha mention her medical skills, and then he was all but dragging her towards the medical outpost, demanding to know why she hadn't stepped forward sooner. They needed all the help they could get in there. Not wanting to get separated, Rose had no choice but to follow.

The rebels chose a Wal-Mart not too far from one of the hospitals to serve as the medical outpost since an actual hospital would be far too big a target. Upon entering, the smell of blood and disease made Rose gag, and even Martha's face screwed up. Most of the store had been picked clean of everything useful some time ago, and most of the shelves had been carried away. Though a portion of the market section still had food on its shelves and armed guards to make sure it stayed there. About two hundred people were lying on the counters, checkout stations, and tables made of merchandise and the store's shelves.

A female doctor wearing a tattered, yet still miraculously intact, hijab introduced them to Armand, a doctor with black hair and dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. Armand was one of the doctors who'd set this place up. He said there were about fifteen nurses and seven doctors, including him and Razia, the woman who'd escorted them. They welcomed another pair of trained hands.

Rose hesitantly told them about the ability she had and was met with skepticism as she'd expected. So to convince them without wasting her precious supply of energy, she demonstrated on a boy who'd broken his leg.

"But that's impossible," Armand said. "That is scientifically impossible."

Rose ignored him. "Try putting a bit of weight on it," she told the boy. "You might be weak for a little bit but there shouldn't be any more pain."

The boy tilted his leg from side to side, and then gingerly drew his knee up to his chest. From the look of utter shock on his face, Rose knew she'd succeeded. Armand carefully removed the splint from the boy's leg and inspected the skin, pressing against the bone in his leg intermittently.

He shook his head. "It doesn't hurt."

"Doesn't feel broken, either," Armand murmured. He looked at Rose. "How…?"

"It's…not something I can just explain."

He straightened, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Try."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. Because right now, I'm considering throwing you out, because what you just did wasn't human. Your eyes weren't human. And recently, everything not human hasn't exactly been friendly."

"That you know of," she shot back. "There've been aliens on Earth for years. Plenty of good aliens who don't mean the human race any harm. For God's sake, Earth's biggest and oldest defender isn't even human. Plus, I dunno if you noticed mate, but you're not exactly battlin' it out with aliens right now. All those UCFs are human."

"Rose, he's just concerned for his patients," Martha placated.

"I know he is. But maybe he could lose the 'burn the witch' vibe he's giving off. …I'm human and I'm a time traveler. I did something incredibly stupid once that ended up saving the universe but it changed me. I'm able to use the supply of energy within myself to heal at a rapid rate and I can heal others, too. Alright?"

Armand stared at her, expression unreadable.

"It's true," Martha said. "What she's saying. I know it's a bit frightening. Scared the pants of us when she first did it and it…still scares me a little. But she is the most caring, selfless person I know and she would never hurt anyone unless it was to save someone else. Now, Dr. Armand, you've got someone with the power completely unique in the world standing right in front of you, offering her help—and at personal cost, might I add. So are you gonna throw this gift away or are you gonna let us help you?"

He stared at her silently for just long enough that Rose was beginning to worry they might actually have to run for it and then he finally nodded his head. "There's a man here who had his leg torn off."

Rose resisted the urge to exhale in relief. "I can't regrow limbs but I can close the wound and remove the infection.

Armand nodded again. "This way."

Rose started to follow him, but Martha tapped her on her arm. She turned. "Will you be alright without me?" Martha asked. "I want to go find a way to make myself useful."

"Yeah, sure."

Martha nodded and turned to go, but then something occurred to her, and she turned back. "Remember, if you feel yourself about to pass out, try to at least fall away from sharp objects."

Rose's lips curled upward in amusement. "Yes, Mum."

Martha smiled before heading off on her own and Rose went to catch up with Armand. He led her to the back of the Wal-Mart where there were proper beds made out of couches and loveseats. These were the patients in serious condition, the ones that may never leave the building of their own power again, the ones waiting to die. The ones, Rose knew, who would be killed without question if this building were to be raided. But she didn't tell him that. She probably didn't need to.

Next to a handful of the beds, there were people sitting. The people watched Rose and Armand pass despondently. She was led to a couch where a lone Hispanic man lay, wrapped in a blanket, and barely lucid. He had an IV in his arm attached by a thin tube to a bag of clear liquid. Pain meds, probably. And Lord, did he need them.

"What's his name?" Rose asked.

"We don't know. He was found yesterday not too far from here, half-buried under a collapsed building. He was lucky to even survive the journey here."

"And his leg?"

"It didn't come out of the rubble with him." Armand lifted the blanket away from the man's lower half, revealing his right leg and the stump, heavily bandaged about halfway down the other thigh. "Do your thing."

"I can't. I need to be touching the actual area for it to work best. You're gonna have to unwrap it."

Armand swore under his breath. "Okay. Give me a minute."

Rose nodded and kneeled down beside the couch. She touched his cheek but he didn't even so much as twitch. Actually, he didn't even seem to be aware they were there. Though that was probably for the best considering she was going to have to mess with his leg in a moment. But she still wanted him to know what she was going to do and get consent before she expended the energy on someone who may just want to die and get it over with.

So, ignoring the little twinge of guilt in her stomach, she stretched her mind out, seeking. As she rose onto her knees and moved her face into his line of sight, she slipped into his mind. She kept to the outer area, away from the thick haze of his inner mind that was being dulled by the pain medication. But if she couldn't get a response out here that's where she'd have to go.

Can you hear me?

At first there was nothing but as she repeated her message a second and then finally a third time, she finally felt a flicker of curiosity. With a sigh, she pushed just a little further towards the haze and she began to pick up on more of his emotions, and finally, the weak traces of thought.

My name's Rose Tyler. What's yours?

Roberto Acosta…

"His name is Roberto," Rose said aloud.

"How the…?" Armand started to ask and then he seemed to decide against it.

Where am I?

You're in hospital.

What happened to me…I remember… Rose caught flashes of memory. The pure terror as he realized the building was coming down, frantically trying to escape, getting knocked down, agony in his leg— My leg…my leg…

Rose brushed her fingers across his cheek in sympathy. I'm sorry. I can't bring your leg back but I can heal what remains.

Please.

She withdrew from his mind as quickly as she dared and scooted down to his legs. What remained of his left was a frightening shade of red and held together by thick black stitches. Blood, plasma, and a bit of pus were dried around the edges and one area seemed to still be oozing a bit. Rose took a deep breath and urged the power down her hands. The process was becoming quite familiar and, unless she was mistaken, easier. It only took a second after she willed it for her palms to shine with the telltale light and she pressed them to his leg.

As she inspected the area of the injury, she became aware of an immediate problem. The stitches were the only thing holding the skin together and any attempt to remove them before she started to work would only make things worse. But in order to remove them herself, she would have to heal the skin around the stitches, dissolve them without harming the skin, and then heal the many holes they left behind. It wasn't going to be easy and she didn't know what would happen after.

"Armand," she said. "There is a very good chance I'm gonna pass out when I finish this. I'm gonna need food to get myself going again. Things rich with protein and vitamins work best. Can you get me some?"

"We're in a Wal-Mart. I'm sure I could find you something."

"Good."

As it happened, Rose didn't lose consciousness, not entirely. She couldn't sit up for about ten minutes without getting so dizzy that she had to lay back down. During that time, one of the nurses brought Rose some food and Armand got Roberto Acosta unhooked from the pain medication he would no longer need. It took another fifteen minutes after that before she got up and moving. She moved from bed to bed and Armand followed, answering her questions about each patient.

The two cancer patients were beyond her help, as was the man who'd had a stroke, and the blind man who'd been deafened. The woman with blood poisoning she could possibly help but she didn't know how to even start or if she even had the strength for something like that. There were four who'd been shot that were only barely stable and two burn victims—those groups she could help. Over the next four hours, she made her way through the rows of beds, alternating between resting and working.

During one of her rest periods, she realized there might be something she could do for the blind man who'd lost his hearing. She spoke to him telepathically. He could still speak on his own and the first thing he asked was why he could only hear her voice. The idea of telepathy didn't bother him too much since he was used to hearing voices without seeing the source. She asked him what had led to his sudden deafness, and he said the last thing he remembered hearing was an explosion.

She relayed this to Armand. "That explains things," he said. "He has ruptured eardrums. Nothing to be done for that." Rose raised one eyebrow and Armand sighed, rolling his eyes. "Right."

UNIT had taken heavy hits since the first day, yet they retained their grit. They'd taken over most of the remaining military, coordinating both sets of troops, rationing and distributing supplies, handling civilian recruits, and keeping tabs on the hideouts of the known survivor groups. It was quite impressive, Martha decided, as two armed soldiers escorted her and Rose through their base (in a former department store not far from Times Square) to meet the Brigadier General. Some people watched them as they passed, and Martha could feel the judgment in their stares.

She wondered how they must look to the UNIT soldiers. They'd been on the move for over a month now, they hadn't showered in a few days, and their clothes were a bit worse for the wear. Rose was paler than usual but that was the only sign that she'd used her powers more today than she ever had. As they walked through UNIT, she kept her head up, her shoulders squared, and her stride was steady and meaningful. She was intimidating, formidable, and Martha did her best to mimic her.

They were led to a storage cupboard-turned-office and presented before a black man with deep wrinkles and an even deeper frown. He wore the typical UNIT officer uniform sans the many medals and decoration usually seen on ranking officials as well as his hat. He wore a gun on each hip. His dark eyes looked them up and down critically, missing nothing and judging everything.

Rose and Martha met his gaze evenly.

"So," he finally said. "You're the two women who think they can save the world."

Rose lifted her chin at the derision in his voice. "Great, you know who we are? Now who the hell are you? We asked to speak with the brigadier."

"And what makes you think you're not speaking with him?" the man countered.

"Because the brigadier general of the American UNIT forces is a woman named Adrienne Kramer. We've met."

Surprise flickered across his face. "And what's your name?"

"Rose Tyler. I work for Torchwood."

The man's expression darkened at the mention of the Institute. "Ah. And where is Torchwood now?"

"Most of our team was on a mission before this started and I don't know if they're still alive. Jack Harkness is currently held prisoner onboard the Valiant. I'm all that's left."

"And you?" he asked Martha.

"This is Martha Jones. Now that we've introduced ourselves, I think it's your turn. Let's start with who you are and where the hell is Kramer?"

The man stared at her for a moment longer and then exhaled sharply through his nose. "Well. I don't see the point wasting valuable time so I'll be forward with you. General Kramer is extremely busy and does not have the time or patience to be disturbed for anything other than official business. And, frankly two foreigners who claim they can kill that psychopath aren't anywhere a top priority."

"Yeah, right, okay. I understand." Rose nodded. "So if time's such an important thing to you lot then why don't you stop wasting ours, alright? I want you to go to General Kramer and tell her the Doctor's wife would like to speak to her. Tell her exactly that. 'The Doctor's wife.'"

The man seemed taken aback.

"You're the one who said we can't afford to be wasting time," Martha added, folding her arms. "G'on. Shift!"

Barely three minutes passed between the time he left and the time General Adrienne Kramer arrived. She was still as imposing she was the last time Martha had lain eyes on her—Kentucky, 2003. But there was weariness about her that hadn't been there before, the same one Martha had seen on countless faces since their journey began. It spoke of struggle, grief, exhaustion, and despair. Yet there was also a hard determination about her, and a look of hope in her eyes as they found Rose and Martha and recognized from years before.

"His wife?" was the first thing she asked.

Rose offered her a one-shouldered shrug. "I figured it'd get you here quicker than sort-of girlfriend or lover."

Kramer cocked her head to the side briefly, seeing the point. She walked around them and perched on the edge of the desk. Looking them both up and down, she licked her lips. "You look like hell."

"Been in front of a mirror lately?" Martha responded.

She barked a laugh. "No. Haven't had the time. So, where is he?"

Neither woman needed to ask whom she meant. Rose ducked her head so Martha decided to take point. "He's with the Master."

"So he is a prisoner."

"Yes. But he's got a plan. It's not much, but with the Doctor…"

"He can work miracles with next to nothing." Kramer nodded. "And that's why you're here?"

There was no need for stories with Kramer. Rose and Martha took turns explaining the details of the plan, what needed to be done, and by when. The General listened silently, nodding appropriately here and there, but otherwise did not respond until after they were finished. She inhaled slowly and rubbed her mouth with her hand.

"Prayers and hope," she rumbled.

"Not what you were expecting." Rose stated.

"Not in the least. When I heard that two people were preaching a way to kill the Master, I thought that's what you meant."

"We never once said we planned to kill him," Martha pointed out. "People just assumed."

Kramer rubbed her mouth again. "And maybe that's a good thing."

Martha folded her arms. "How do you mean?"

"We think you want to kill him. He probably does, too. The Doctor is known for his dislike of death…but you two? You're wild cards. Especially you, Torchwood."

Rose smiled just a bit.

"You want him dead." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Martha said immediately but Rose hesitated.

"Rose?"

"I do, but…the Doctor…" She seemed to struggle with something for few seconds. "He's been on his own for so long now. He's the last Time Lord, did you know that, General? The rest of them are dead and gone and he can feel it every second of the day. In here." She tapped her head. "So I offered…I asked if I could learn to use my telepathy and be in his mind like his people used to be. The look on his face…" Her face softened at the memory before she cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake. "Then we found the Master. He's a Time Lord."

"Oh, well that's just fucking fantastic." Kramer slammed her palms angrily against the table.

"But don't you see? He's not alone anymore. The Doctor…doesn't want to kill him. He's furious with him and I'd be surprised if he didn't hate him, but he doesn't want to kill him."

Kramer glared at her. "Yes, well, excuse me if I don't exactly care what the Doctor wants. He had a chance to save the world, he blew it, and got himself taken prisoner. And now the world's gone to hell and people are dying. We estimate millions were killed that first day alone."

"Six hundred million, actually," Martha said quietly. Kramer's intense eyes bore into hers. "The Master said to kill off one-tenth of the population. I—I did the math."

"Six hundred million, day one, Agent Tyler," Kramer deadpanned. "So I hope you understand why I don't give a rat's ass about what the Doctor wants at this point."

"But the plan—"

"Is a long shot that depends solely on you two making it around the world in a year. Awful lot of opportunities for failure. More than I'm comfortable with."

"So you won't help us, then." Rose said flatly.

"I didn't say that." Kramer stood up. "I said I don't plan on relying solely on you two. But I'll help you."

Rose and Martha exchanged relieved sighs and smiles.

"Now, people think you're planning on killing the Master. He probably expects that, too. So why not let him go on believing it? If he finds out the truth, he'll find a way to counter it. You need a lie people can spread along with the truth." Kramer took a few steps towards them, a devious smirk tugging at her lips. "You need a reason why you're travelling the world. And I think UNIT can help."

Four days after leaving New York City, when they were well into the Appalachian Mountains, they felt the ground shake and heard the distant reverberations of numerous explosions. They came from the north. Within the hour, they could see the smoke. They knew, of course, what it was. The only thing it could be. And three days later while in a survivor camp deep within the mountains, their suspicious were proven true.

New York City had been bombed. The only survivors had been on the far outskirts. Manhattan and everything in the surrounding five miles had been decimated. No one knew if there'd been any warning, but even if there had been, there probably wouldn't have been enough time to do anything about it. Armand's hospital: gone. Adrienne Kramer and everyone in that base: gone.

But Kramer's plan for them was solid and they would hold onto it.

They moved south, keeping to the Appalachians until they ran out. The mountains were full of survivors, large and small groups alike, most of which were cynical but once they were won over, became fierce allies. They agreed to get word as far west as Ohio and to the eastern coastline. One of the groups somewhere in Virginia let the two of them stay for a week and a half and during that time, the members taught Rose and Martha how to survive in the wilderness. So far they'd been lucky enough to always have food with them and be restocked by survivor groups, but that wouldn't always be the case. They showed the women what berries and plants could be eaten if necessary, how to clean and gut an animal and cook them on a campfire, how to purify creek or lake water, how to work a well, and how to hide their tracks and scent just in case they were followed. They also got crash courses in hunting, tracking, and crossbows.

After leaving the Appalachians, they cut through the Carolinas before looping around southern Georgia, up through a few camps around Atlanta, and into northern Alabama.

They spent July 4th, American Independence Day, with a group of survivors in a campground near Athens, Alabama. The survivors had heard a rumor about the two of them, and welcomed them in, curious to hear the truth for themselves. They were holding their own little cookout as a morale booster and something to keep the kids happy. Jacob, the man in charge, invited Rose and Martha to join in, although the irony of the situation escaped no one.

The campground had five cabins and a mess hall. There were twenty adults and five children in total. They'd had four more adults at the beginning, but they'd gone on a supply run to Athens once and never came back.

While Martha offered to look at the two people they had that were sick, Rose attempted to approach the five children playing tag on the other side of the camp. The youngest were always the first and easiest to be swayed. But the moment they saw her coming, one of them shrieked, "THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" And they all ran away from her, laughing and squealing, glancing over their shoulders at her almost…expectantly. With a roll of her eyes, she realized that was her invitation to join the game as the person who was 'it'.

It had been a stressful few months and she discovered after about thirty seconds that a game of tag with the kids was actually a good form of stress relief. They didn't expect anything of her. They didn't know she had freaky powers or the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was just another player in a game where the stakes about as high as a little league football match.

When they sat down to dinner, there was a lull in the larger conversation as they started eating. The only sounds were the clanking of silverware, chewing, and a few conversations meant simply to pass the time. But Rose didn't miss the air of anticipation among the Americans. About five minutes after the meal started, Jacob cleared his throat loudly and asked what everyone was thinking. So Rose and Martha began telling their stories of the Doctor.

The people listened as they normally did, a few asking questions here and there. It was going fine and, if nothing else, they had people enraptured. They were surprised, however, when a girl of about nineteen raised her hand and asked if she could tell them a story of her own.

"When I was little, we'd hit a rough patch at home and I overheard my parents arguing one night over money and the soccer program I wanted to join, and college, and just basically how my brother and me were so expensive. So I decided I didn't want to be a burden anymore and I was running away to my aunt's. I was waiting at the bus station by myself and this man asked if he could sit on the bench with me. He had long curly brown hair and he was dressed like someone out of a Jane Austin book—very handsome. He said his name was the Doctor. He sounded British but he told me he came from a place farther away than I could imagine. I asked where he was going. 'Anywhere I wish,' he said. 'And you?' I told him I was going to New York City.

"Then he asked me if what I was running from was worth that and so I told him about what was going on at home. He never patronized me, never told me I was overreacting, being dramatic, or anything. He just…listened. When I was done, he was quiet for a few seconds and then he said to me—and I swear I'll never forget anything from that whole conversation—he said, 'I understand. I ran away from my home too, you know, a long time ago. It was never a good place for me. And I've been better for it. I've met so many wonderful people and seen so many amazing things. You could too, one day, but not now, Anna. But! …If you get on that bus, you won't get the chance to.'

"He offered to walk me home and I let him. We did make a stop at this…blue box, I think it was—it's weird 'cos that's the only thing I can't really remember. He gave me a cedar box and told me to hide it in my backpack and not take it out until after he was gone. When we got there, my momma was frantic and my dad was getting ready to go out looking for me. The Doctor helped me explain why I'd run away and stayed to make sure I wasn't in trouble. Then he was gone."

Anna paused, looking around at all the faces. "The next day was 9/11."

A low murmur swept through the crowd. Martha's eyes widened and Rose inhaled sharply through her nose.

"What was in the box?" asked one of the children.

"It was this beautiful diamond necklace—from the Victorian era—and the largest one was the size of my thumbnail. And there was a little piece of paper stuck in the side that said: be sure to score a goal in your first game for me." She smiled, ducking her head. "There weren't any alien planets or monsters. I never knew he was anything but human until today. He was just a man who saw a lonely, scared little girl and helped her."

Rose finally managed to speak, "Sounds just like him."

"So…who is this Doctor?" one of the women asked.

"Why's he important?" a man asked.

"Because…" Rose paused for effect. "He's the man who can defeat the Master. It's gonna be a while before he's ready—and, hell, we need all the time we can get—but he can stop him. He's done it before and he'll do it again."

"But he needs your help." Martha added. "That's why we're travelling around the world."

For a few moments, everyone was quiet. The adults exchanged looks and some of them shifted around in their seats.

Jacob cleared his throat again. "Right, then. What do we need to do?"

*insert obligatory bribe for reviews*