To the anon who keeps asking about the location of various people (ex: Donna, Shareen, the Brig): they dead, bro.

I'm glad you're all happy to see Elliot back ^^ To be honest, I did not originally plan for them to run into him. But about a month ago, I decided that before I solidified any further plans (you'll see what I mean) I needed to see how receptive people were to his return outside of his original arc with some noticeable personality changes. The Year seemed like as good of a time as any and it gave me a decent motivation for something later on. And since he got such a positive response, I will go ahead and confirm that we will see Elliot again later on down the road Rose and the Doctor's timeline.

Both the barn and house were set ablaze just after sunset, getting rid of the bodies and a potential survivor camp for others in one fell swoop. All of Elliot's possessions were destroyed, including the journal. So when Rose and Elliot found Martha, she stayed with him while Rose crept back out to the pasture to get the sketchbook and pencils he'd left behind. And he surprised them both later by pulling the fob watch out of his pocket.

They couldn't leave him behind to fend for himself, but they ran the risk of getting discovered if he wasn't filtered like them. So they decided he'd have to be with one of them at all times, their wrists joined by a necklace, so the key's filter covered both of them. He kept up well enough and he never complained about the pace, but just one day had utterly exhausted him. The next day however, he got up and got moving when they wanted to. He was obviously grieving and more than once they heard him sniffle quietly, but he didn't cry or break down. Though whenever one of them hugged him or held his hand, he clung to them as if they might disappear any second.

Halfway through their second day of walking, Elliot suddenly stopped. Martha felt the tug on her arm and turned to see him standing still with his head cocked to the side like a dog.

"Rose!" she called without looking away.

Rose jogged up behind her a few seconds later. "What is it?" Martha nodded at Elliot. "Oh," Rose said softly.

They kept quiet so he could focus on what he was hearing. The teenager frowned the tiniest bit and didn't say anything for about thirty seconds. "People. At least a dozen."

Martha glanced at Rose. "Survivors or UCFs?"

"They've got kids." He glanced up. "I don't think the Master recruits kids."

Rose nodded. "Good point. So, what do you think? Should we go?"

"We were supposed to be heading to a group north of the farm next," Martha pointed out. "Could be them."

"Could be. Alright, let's go then."

She started off and Martha tried to follow, but she felt resistance and, glancing over her shoulder, saw Elliot hadn't moved. His lips were pressed together in a thin line and he seemed to be debating something. Martha got Rose's attention once more.

"What is it?" Rose asked him.

"Are you going to leave me there?" Elliot asked bluntly.

The women glanced knowingly at each other. They both knew full well he couldn't stay with them for long. Even if he managed to toughen up to the point where the length of their daily treks didn't drain him, he would always have to remain tethered to one of them, or they ran the risk of him being seen and in turn, them as well. It wasn't safe either way. But, then again, Martha thought, he clearly wasn't in a good place right now. Abandoning him so soon after the slaughter of his parents and people wouldn't help him at all. They might not know each other very well, his psychically gained knowledge of them aside, but at least they were familiar.

"No," Martha said.

Elliot's eyes narrowed at her. Was he trying to read her?

"But, Elliot—" she bent at the waist so they were eyelevel, "—you know you'll have to stay behind eventually."

He frowned reproachfully but mumbled, "I know."

Folding her arms, Rose drummed her fingers against her bicep thoughtfully. "Elliot. You said you knew when you were in the right place, right?" He nodded. "I want you to be honest with me. Do you still feel that?"

Elliot shook his head. Martha glanced between them, knowing she was missing something significant.

"If you feel it again, I want you to promise me you'll tell me. It was right before and I know it'll be right again."

"It was right?!" he exploded suddenly. "There was nothing right about it! My parents were only there because of me and they were murdered! If we'd…if we'd just stayed in Owensboro they'd still be alive!"

"You don't know that," Martha told him gently. "Just because there was a raid on the farm doesn't mean your last camp wouldn't have been raided."

"Yeah, you're right," he spat. "They were only there 'cos of you!"

They'd all been thinking it but no one had voiced it until now. Martha felt the sting of his words as if he'd physically struck her. For a moment, no one said anything. Then he exhaled shakily and covered his face with hands. "'Course, that's probably why I was there, too," he mumbled a few seconds later.

"We don't know how they found you," Rose said. "There was a vehicle following about a mile behind us but they couldn't have seen us and the truck we were in never stopped."

"Someone betrayed you. A woman, brown hair, a scar on her left brow." He lowered his hands. "Their leader was thinking about her."

There had been a woman matching that description in the group they were with prior to the farm. "Karen," Rose hissed under her breath.

Elliot blinked, the name meaning nothing to him. "He killed her. Bullet through one of her arteries. She died slowly while he watched."

"You got all that from him?" Martha asked in surprise.

He blinked again. "He was thinking about her."

Martha felt nothing but a brief twinge of satisfaction at the traitor's death. Once she might've felt some pity for her as well, but at this point, the only good traitor was a dead one. Whatever her motivations had been, she'd caused thirty-one deaths—eight of whom were children who hadn't even reached adolescence—and had risked the fate of this world and countless others.

Rose shrugged off her pack and sat down on the ground, stretching out her legs. Martha was unable to shed her pack due to her arm being linked to Elliot's, but she still joined her on the ground. He, too, finally sat down.

"We're not going?" he asked with undisguised relief.

"No, we are. But we need to discuss something before we go."

Elliot frowned warily. "Okay…"

"This leader of theirs—" Rose folded her arms "—who is he? What did you get from him?"

"Uh…" He opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I, um, I was kind of trying to avoid him. But, uh…he's probably not much taller than you, Rose. Kinda reddish brown hair, a mustache, and, er, brown eyes. He had freckles on his cheeks," he added thoughtfully. "I got the name 'Moran' from one of the others inside the barn with him."

"Let me see him," she instructed. Elliot nodded once. They were both silent for a moment and Martha looked between them and sighed loudly. Once again she was out of the loop about something important.

"Hmm," Rose muttered. "Martha, you want to see this guy?"

"I…sure." A moment later she felt Rose's mind dipping into hers and she saw a stout man in the black uniform worn by all members of the Master's personal army. His face was heavily lined from years of frowning. The confident way he held himself (as well as his gun) spoke of military background. His eyes were hard and uncaring, narrowed at whoever he was looking at.

"I've never seen him before," Martha said as the image vanished and Rose retreated. "How long's he been following us, Elliot?"

He gave her a look. "How should I know? I'm psychic, not God."

A week after the slaughter of Elliot's people they were in Chicago. Rose point blank refused to leave him in the city filled with slave barracks, labor plantations and factories. The streets were constantly patrolled by UCFs. They spent three days moving through Chicago, talking with the survivors, and on the fourth day they were finally able to earn a meeting with the leaders of the resistance factions within the city. They were greatly impressed by the two women. Elliot sensed their opinions of him and quickly earned their respect with his clairvoyance.

A woman called Fi helped them plan their route through the rest of the country. They had roughly fifteen weeks to get across the country and needed to cover as much ground as they could. They told her how they'd traveled in a giant 'U' shape from Baltimore, down through Georgia, and back to Chicago and she recommended they keep that up.

They would travel northwest through Wisconsin, Minnesota, and North Dakota. From there the word could spread into Canada. Then they'd head down through a region known as 'Tornado alley' and hit Texas. Texas would be crucial to getting the word spread into the southern portion of the continent and down into South America. From Texas, they would slip through to Colorado, Utah, Idaho, and Oregon. Finally, they would travel down the coastline to California, where they'd catch a boat across the Pacific.

Sunset on the eve of their departure from Chicago, the three of them were relaxing in one of the rebel hideouts. It had been some sort of factory or delivery hub back in the old days. They'd been given a sleeping bunk on the second level of the stock shelves. Rose was curled up in a little ball, taking advantage of the rare time of peace for a nap. Martha was reading a book one of the rebels had given her.

Elliot was drawing in his sketchpad when suddenly he suddenly froze before letting out a terrified cry. "He's coming!" It echoed through the open space and attracted the attention of everyone within the vicinity.

Rose was awake instantly, her eyes scanning the area for danger. Martha slammed her book shut.

"Who's he?" called a rebel on the ground.

"Who's coming?" Rose demanded.

"The one who tracked you to my farm! Moran! He's less than a mile away and he knows we're here!"

"How many are with him?"

"I…uh…" he stammered and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing. "Dozens. Maybe sixty."

Martha swore loudly, rose up on her knees, and bellowed for the entire warehouse to hear: "WE GOT INCOMING! SIXTY ENFORCERS! ETA: THREE MINUTES!"

Chaos exploded as everyone scrambled to prepare for attack. Rose, Martha, and Elliot had thirty seconds to frantically pack before they were all but dragged down from their bunks. Three rebels led them towards the loading docks where a jeep was waiting to get them out. Elliot's screech was the only warning they had before an explosion rocked through the building, knocking most of them to the ground or into shelves.

Rose was on her feet instantly, eyes blazing. Martha was up almost as quickly, along with the other rebels, but Elliot remained flat on the ground, shuddering. One of their escorts, a burly dark-haired man, looked at them for permission before scooping Elliot up and tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Elliot, close your mind now!" Rose ordered sharply.

He looked at her for a moment then nodded. She could tell the exact second he'd completely blocked himself off. Most of the panic left his eyes and the tension drained from his body. Poor boy.

Before they could reach the docks however, UCFs began swarming in from that side as well. The man was forced to put Elliot down, and Martha quickly bound their wrists together with her necklace. They lost their escorts in the ensuing chaos, but the three of them managed to slip past the guards stationed at the door, and vanished down an alley. But not before Rose glimpsed a worn-faced man with reddish hair standing beside one of the vehicles, staring at the warehouse in anticipation.

As it happened, Elliot was with them for longer than they'd predicted. He remained with them until the beginning of August when they were in South Dakota. They found a group living in an enormous cave system in the middle of nowhere. Rose and Martha wouldn't have even found the cave entrance without Elliot, nor would they have known it was being guarded.

The guard was pretty easy to convince, though Rose wondered how much of that was his unwillingness to leave two women and a young teen outside when night was falling.

The cave system, they were told, was larger than they could imagine and after fifteen minutes in its tunnels, Rose believed it. She was assured she had not even glimpsed fraction of its true size. There were roughly eighty people in total living down there. Most of them lived in one of the large caverns deep within the cave not too far from an underground lake, though apparently a handful opted to live in smaller groups or on their own in separate caverns. They'd set up all manner of tents and huts not unlike the ones Rose remembered from Hooverville. They were very welcoming to the newcomers, offering them a pair of unused tents. Many of the residents contributed to make their bedding more comfortable. Their kindness only increased when Rose healed the broken arm of a boy who'd gotten too adventurous.

They had an interesting setup. They did all their cooking at night near a shaft that led above, so any smoke would be difficult to see and wouldn't lead anyone who saw it to the entrance. There were various lakes of all sizes throughout the cave and they used one near the camp for bathing, and another for drinking water. They'd even set aside a cave for a latrine—well away from the living areas.

They remained there for little over a day, telling their stories and trading information about the situation up top for some food to take with them.

Elliot was approached by some of the kids living there and many became interested in his drawings. He won the others over quickly by starting a little game. "Think of anything," he told a little girl with blonde pigtails who reminded him of Macy, his best friend who he hadn't been able to save. "Anything you want. Now picture it in your head."

She blinked her brown eyes at him curiously and a moment later, in his mind, he saw a fluffy white kitten holding a sock in its mouth. Smiling, he drew up a quick sketch and showed it to her. Her squeal of surprise was enough to earn the undivided attention of every single kid. Some of the older, more skeptical ones demanded he do the same for them. So he did.

"Are you reading our minds?" a boy called Jamal demanded.

Elliot grinned. "No."

Then it became a game of trying to stump him. Someone came up with a number and whispered for the other kids to hear while Elliot's back was turned and another kid clamped her hands over his ears. Little did they realize that they just made it easier for him. Eleven minds linked through a psychic network thinking of the same thing at once in close proximity to him was basically the equivalent of them all shouting it out.

Rose found him during one such game and perched on a rock a few yards off, not wanting to interrupt. He felt her mind slot into place next to his, like two pieces of puzzle connecting.

What's going on? She asked in amusement. The whole telepathy thing was still peculiar. It was so unlike when he picked up on something clairvoyantly. If he heard a conversation from, say, Martha's memory, he could hear exactly what she had. But when Rose spoke to him through her mind, her thoughts had no sound. So his mind made up for the lack of sensory input by reading them in her voice with the emotion they came with.

Showing off, he admitted. I started a game of drawing what they were thinking and it's turned into…this.

Five kids stood in front of him with their hands behind their backs. One of them held a stone, put there by a kid while his back was turned and ears were covered. It was the red-haired boy fourth in line. He could tell even without the help of the smile tugging at the boy's lips.

Are you trying to figure out who's holding the rock?

Yep.

Want help?

Nope. I got this. He grinned and pointed at the kid. "Ginger."

The looks of outrage, amusement, the scoffs and the laughs made it all worth it. He heard Rose laugh merrily in his mind.

Why, Elliot. I do believe you're making friends. I'm impressed.

He looked over the shoulders of the kids in front of him and smiled at her. I know how to. I just choose not to. Besides, right now, they think I'm just doing magic tricks or something.

She cocked her head to the side. Yeah, but, you've got them all enthralled. They'll believe anything you say. Maybe you ought to ought to start the stories today.

Really? He asked excitedly. They'd never let him take point, not since his family when they'd needed his introduction.

Yeah. Go for it.

Though it hadn't lasted for more than a few seconds, their silent conversation hadn't gone unnoticed.

"What are you doing?" demanded a girl he knew was called Allie. She followed his gaze to Rose. "Is she your sister?"

Elliot shook his head and broke eye contact with Rose. "No. She's a friend from a long time ago. …We saved the world together once," he added lightly.

"Really?" gasped one of the younger kids.

"Yeah. Stopped an alien invasion."

"Liar," said another.

"You think I'm a liar?" Elliot folded his arms. "A psycho has taken over the world with metals balls from outer space…and you think I'm lying about an alien invasion."

"No. I think you're lying that you saved the world."

"Well…alright. I didn't do the actual saving. But I helped."

"How?" asked a girl.

He looked between the curious faces and resisted the urge to smirk. "Do you want to hear the story?"

"Yeah!"

"I do!"

"Me too!"

Good luck, Rose thought before detaching her mind.

Rose was happy he was making friends. Seeing him smiling and interacting with the other kids was like a weight off her shoulders. So, really, it wasn't much of a surprise when he approached her and Martha the next morning and told them this was the end of the road for him.

Rose put her hands on his shoulders and studied his face intently. She knew he wouldn't say something like this lightly. He'd made it quite clear he didn't want them to leave him, but he had promised her he would tell her when and if he ever felt like they'd reached a place he should be. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Absolutely sure?" Martha checked.

"We just have to make sure you're certain," said Rose. "'Cos once we're gone, we can't come back. You'll have to stay here."

Elliot swallowed and rubbed his mouth with his hand. "I know. I'm staying. There's a couple others here about my age that are taking care of themselves—and the other families keep an eye on 'em. I can do it, too."

Rose nodded, lips pressed into a tight smile. She slid her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a crushing hug. A moment later, she felt Martha's arms come around his midsection. They held him tightly for a little bit until Rose felt him start to tremble. She drew back, placing her hands on his shoulders again, and saw that he had tears in his eyes.

"Hey," Rose murmured. "This isn't goodbye forever. Once we're finished and the Master's defeated, we'll come back for you. Okay? You can live with us on the TARDIS if you want or we'll help you find any of your family that may have survived. But no matter what, I promise you, you won't be alone. Sound good?"

He shuddered as he inhaled but when he exhaled a few seconds later it was smooth. "Yeah. Sounds great."

The UCF soldier they knew as Moran wanted them and he wanted them bad. By the time they reached Texas, they had come to understand how far he was willing to go. By the time they were leaving the Fort Worth area, they'd already seen three slaughters reminiscent of the one on Elliot's farm. Sometimes Moran and Co. brought along Toclafane as well. Those were the worst times. Rose and Martha both knew they were leaving a fairly clear trail for him to follow, and risking the lives of everyone they told, but they couldn't stop. They had to spread the word.

They had a close call in Amarillo. The camp they were staying in was raided and Moran literally walked within two feet of Rose and Martha. They were cowering in the shadows while nearly everyone else was rounded up into the center. All the members of the camp were divided up into two groups: those who wouldn't be good for labor (the elderly, ill, and young) and those who would. Screaming children were ripped from their parents, who were bound and forced into the backs of vans and trucks to be transported to slave camps.

Then once they were gone, Moran ordered those who remained to be executed. "You are all weak and frail. You're of no use to Our Master. …Unless…of course…you tell us where we can find Rose Tyler and Martha Jones." He walked in a slow circle around the fifteen people on the ground. No one answered him, some even glared defiantly back at him. "Come on, now, we know they're heading Northwest. In fact, our intelligence places them right in this area. If you tell me where they're hiding I'll be merciful."

"You can take your mercy and shove it up your ass!" snarled an old woman named Alice. "You lying bastard."

She, of course, died first.

When everyone in the center was dead, they set the camp on fire. Rose and Martha nearly didn't make it out and past the UCFs waiting to ambush any who'd managed to remain hidden.

They managed to shake him off once they hit the Rockies. Many groups, big and small, were hiding within the mountains. They were willing to help Rose and Martha navigate through the treacherous landscape. They provided false trails for their relentless pursuers. As September flowed into October, the days grew colder, the nights longer, and their time allotted for America was running out. The heat they'd once cursed was now becoming precious. Sleeping outside became less and less desirable, and they were hard pressed to find somewhere warm to sleep each night. The tent they'd procured somewhere in Idaho did little for warmth and made them easier to spot if anyone should happen to come through.

They had some close encounters with wild animals: bears, cougars, and the occasional wolf, mostly. Usually Rose could get rid of them just by telepathically terrorizing them or sometimes even just by looking at them with her eyes alight. Strangely enough though, the wolves seemed to be more curious than afraid, and while the more submissive ones would flee when she turned a threatening gaze on them, the more dominant ones tended to continue observing from afar. They never tested her, though.

They caught wind of pursuit again early on in Oregon. A warning spread amongst the survivor networks that two women had arrived in the area, whom were being ruthlessly pursued by the Master's people. If only Moran knew that his perseverance was actually helping them! In the minds of the survivors and rebels, anyone wanted that badly by the Master was worth listening to. They were becoming notorious. Their legend was spreading.

They were in Portland, Oregon for nearly a week, during which time they began to really plan the last leg of their route through America. They planned on hitting San Francisco and Los Angeles but their ultimate goal was San Diego since that was the location of the UNIT base that was, according to their cover story about the weapon, the real reason they'd been going cross-country. If any members of UNIT remained their assistance with the rumor would be useful. And, if they were lucky, UNIT could also help arrange transport for them.

Japan would be their next stop, hopefully. China would follow, and then Russia. They'd heard rumors that Russia had been completely transformed into a shipyard with the entire surviving population either in work camps or hiding out in the brutal, northernmost reaches of the country. Other rumors said that parts of England, Africa, South America, and Australia had met the same fate. After China and Russia, they would then move down to the Middle East. The rough terrain and constant fighting in that region had made it dangerous before. They were afraid of what it would be like now. If they were lucky, they could avoid most of it by passing through the land between the Black and Caspian seas. Lastly, they would travel back up into Europe and, finally, back to England.

They'd come so far already but they still had so much further to go. Rose's body ached just thinking about it.

After Portland, they were driven by jeep to a town called Yachats that had been left mostly untouched. The UCFs there were mostly 'new' recruits who'd joined up mainly for the benefits and, for the most part, didn't give two shits about the Master and his agenda. They were the best sort, often handing over a portion of their rations to the people, and they could be relied on to distract and deceive their comrades who were on the other side. Rose and Martha didn't quite trust them. They were careful to never impart the truth of their journey within earshot of any of them, and urged the others to be just as cautious unless they were absolutely sure the soldier could be trusted.

The people of Yachats were kind enough to give them two bikes that had been saved from the metal collections. They were hardly at their peak condition but they worked, and in this day and age that was good enough. The sound of the sea filled their ears as they rode south on the Oregon Coast Highway. The air smelled of saltwater and reminded them of their week at sea months before, and the voyage that was yet to come.

When they broke for lunch, they walked their bikes down to the beach and sat on the cool sand facing the water as they ate. The Pacific Ocean stretched before them as far as the eye could see, vast and foreboding. Turning around, the entirety of the United States loomed and reminded them of all they'd witnessed, the people they'd endangered, those they'd left behind, and those who wanted them dead. The ocean was a better view. The cool salty air whipped at their hair and stung their cheeks but neither of them minded.

As dusk was falling, Martha noticed a small pillar of smoke wafting to the air from the forest. If they hadn't become adept at recognizing signs of survivors, they would've mistaken it for a cloud. They stashed their bikes in two separate thick copses about five hundred yards apart, and then headed inland towards the smoke. It took about half an hour to reach it and they had to circle around a valley.

"We're gettin' close now," Rose puffed as she hefted herself over a fallen tree. She swung her legs around and dropped down to the other side. She heard the scrabbling of hands and feet against wood as Martha hauled herself up, but movement near a tree caught her attention.

She left Martha to get herself over the tree and crept closer to the tree and the grayish-brown mass hanging from one of the limbs. It was a squirrel caught in a snare. They were definitely near a survivor camp. She scanned the immediate area to ensure there were no more traps, and then bounded over to the trapped animal.

Rose examined the snare and discerned how to best free the squirrel without ruining the snare. She was just starting to work the squirrel's body free when Martha cried out a warning. She spun around and found herself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

The wielder was a man probably in his forties, tall, decently built, with a five o'clock shadow. He was wearing a brown plaid shirt, long denim pants, and a belt full of dead of woodland critters. She glanced over his shoulder. Martha was backed against the fallen tree with her hands in the air, held there by a blonde woman with a shotgun. Rose returned her focus to the man in front of her and lifted her hands.

"That's mine," he said.

"Finders keepers," Rose retorted.

He arched his eyebrows. "Found you."

Rose curled her lip into a snarl.

"What do you think, April?" The man asked.

"They're too scrawny to be the Master's dogs," the woman replied. "Looks like just a pair of thieves."

Rose shook her head. "I was going to take it to the camp."

The man's face hardened. "What camp?"

Rose pointed over her shoulder in the direction of the smoke. The man's eyes flicked in that direction and he grinned. "That ain't no camp."

She couldn't help but smile. "Let me guess, you found some way to funnel the smoke away from your camp so anyone who spots it won't be able to follow it to you."

The man blinked in surprise.

"We've been all across the country, mate," Martha said. "We've pretty much seen all the tricks."

He raised his eyebrows, glancing over his shoulder. "You've traveled the country? On your own?"

"We've had help…but yeah."

"What're your names?" the woman, April, questioned.

"Rose Tyler."

"Martha Jones."

The man and woman exchanged wide-eyed glances and April slowly lowered her gun. The man, however, turned back to Rose and shoved his gun against her chest. "Prove it."

Rose took a deep breath and slowly, keeping her eyes on his, she reached for the knife in her belt. Gritting her teeth, she sliced the blade across her cheek, a nice, deep cut that would otherwise require stitches. She hissed softly as blood began to rush from the wound and she pressed her lips together to keep it out of her mouth. But before she had even returned her knife to its sheath, the blood flow had slowed. Then it stopped all together. She wiped the blood away with her hand so he could see her flesh knit itself back together with a faint glimmer shining beneath.

The man exhaled loudly, gazing at her with awe, and lowered his gun. He turned to April and nodded slowly. "You're real," he said to Martha as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Martha waved. "Hi."

Rose picked the squirrel up and handed it to him. He thanked her, tucked it into his belt, and then handed her a rag from his pocket to wipe the rest of the blood from her face. "Calvin Rhodes. This is my sister, April. I suppose it wouldn't be too weird if we offered you a place to stay and a meal for the night?"

"Hell no, it's not." Rose smiled at him. "Thank you."

I'm real excited for the next chapter. You guys don't even know.

Maybe we could get it up to 1800 reviews before then? :D