Well. Here we go then. Two chapters in one day. It's never happening again ;)

"I gotta say," Calvin said as they traveled through the forest. "I didn't think you were real. I thought you were just a story or something to keep hope alive. Others, though, they believe."

"How many are you with?" Martha asked.

"Twenty six," April replied. A decent-sized group.

They were set up in area that wasn't quite a clearing but the trees were thinner. The outer perimeter was marked by a thin, nearly invisible length of wire with various noise makers attached. The ground had been trampled down into dirt from months of people walking and moving across it. Like many camps they'd seen, people had set up tents or simply made their own out of whatever they could. One tent had a doghouse beside it with a German shepherd that raised its head and sniffed curiously at them as they passed. The twenty-six people were mostly adults, though Rose did see a few children running between the tents.

Word of their arrival quickly spread through the camp, and before long they had a crowd following behind. April and Calvin led them to a tent where white-haired couple were sitting on a pair of mismatched lawn chairs. A woman in her early thirties with bright red hair pushed her way to the front of the group. She was right about Martha's height and Rose could see muscles beneath her black shirt.

"Rhodes, just what kinda snares you settin'?" she teased in a voice far too high for her appearance.

Martha took a step forward and extended her hand. "Hello. I'm Martha. This is Rose."

The redhead quirked her lips. "You're a little far from home."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw the old man look them up and down thoughtfully, pull a pipe from his pocket, and begin stuffing it with tobacco. "Jasper," his wife hissed. "I told you to save that for special occasions."

"I think it is a special occasion," Jasper retorted.

"Beg pardon?"

He pulled a small matchbook from his pocket, removed a single match and struck it amongst the side of the box, lighting his pipe. Returning the box to his pocket, he took a slow drag and smiled.

"Martha Jones, Rose Tyler," he said. "Ain't that right?"

Rose nodded and waved. "Hello."

Audrey frowned suspiciously. "Are you sure it's them?"

"She sliced her cheek clean open, Audrey," Calvin stated. "I watched it heal right before my eyes. It's them."

A surprised murmur swept through the crowd, followed by silence. Then the twenty-six people erupted into noise and surged forward. Rose felt hands on her arms, her neck, her shoulder, her cheeks, and fingers tugged at her hair. Alarmed, she batted at their hands and backed away from the mass of shocked people.

"Hey! Back off!" The redhead shouted, shoving the harassers away. When she was sure they weren't going to come back, she relaxed her stance. "Honestly," she huffed and turned to them. "The name's Audrey. Welcome to our little paradise."

Rose and Martha were given a place to set up their tent and informed dinner would be in an hour or so. In the meantime, they unpacked their things and shucked their thick travelling jackets. A few people came by to offer them a variety of things like pillows and extra blankets or sheets for warmth. By the time they'd completely set up, they were probably the most comfortable people in camp. Every so often, Rose glanced at the tent nearest theirs where a little Native American girl was watching them curiously. She never came any closer but Rose could see a thousand questions written over her face.

Dinner was comprised mostly meat they'd hunted, nuts, and berries, and was held around a ring of propane lanterns that provided little warmth. Rose and Martha answered some of the questions people had for them—where they were from, was it true they were being hunted, how far had they come, was it true they'd been onboard the Valiant, where were they heading—and finished the night by telling them the story of how they'd met.

The next morning, a woman came by their tent and asked if they would like their clothes washed. "They're looking a bit worse for the wear."

"Pretty much everything we have is dirty," Martha admitted sheepishly.

"Hmm. Give me a few minutes and I'll see if I can't scrounge up some things for you to wear." She disappeared from their tent and within minutes, just like the night before, people were arriving with random articles of clothing for them to try on. Leggings, jeans, skirts, shirts, jumpers, vests, jackets, and a pair of light brown fingerless gloves that fit Martha perfectly. For the most part they were all earthy colors, well-worn and had at least one small rip, but they all looked warm.

Rose cobbled together an outfit comprised of deep gray leggings, a tan skirt that fell almost to her ankles with a slit up the side, a thick cream-colored shirt with knitted sleeves, and a greenish-brown vest, plus her own tan boots. She looped her belt with her gun and knife holster around her waist, concealing it beneath her shirt. She also strapped Jack's vortex manipulator to her left wrist for safekeeping. She didn't trust people to not snoop out of curiosity, and the manipulator wasn't something that just anyone should mess with.

The pair of jeans was almost the right size for Martha when she tightened her belt just a bit more than normal, she was able to keep them around her hips. She also chose from the pile of offered clothes a pair of leggings for underneath the jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a dark green plaid shirt which she tied around her waist, just in case.

Meals were served only twice a day, one midmorning and one after sundown, which was more than some survivor groups were able to manage. Rose and Martha soon found out that dinner the night before had only been eaten as a large group because of them. Usually people ate in smaller groups, or back at their tents.

Before breakfast, the hunters would go out to check and reset their snares or try to track something down. The water collectors would head to the creek half a mile away to collect water and check the known safe berry bushes for ripe fruit. The gatherer would later be sent to collect berries or any other edible plants he could find. The cooks would skin and gut the animals. The pelts were given to one of the hunters who knew how to preserve them. The meat was cooked, and most of the remains were given to the dog. On laundry days, like today, certain men and women would go door to door to collect the washing, and would be escorted to the creek by one of the hunters for protection. There was always one lookout posted and the perimeter was routinely scouted. The two teenagers in camp were responsible for babysitting the four children. The old man often assisted, and his wife took care of any mending that needed done.

"It's a great setup," Rose told Audrey, the group's duly appointed leader, as they waited in the breakfast line. "Must've worked out real well up all summer. But it's gettin' colder. Soon there's gonna be snow. What then?"

Audrey had reached the front of the line. She accepted her plate and moved out of the way so Rose could get hers. She followed Audrey a ways away from the line.

"We've been planning our move for a while now," Audrey informed her. "We sent out a scouting group a little while ago and they just came back last week. They're the ones who brought back the story about you two. There's a small town about twenty miles from here that's been abandoned. They said it looked like everyone had been rounded up. But there's a lot of food and supplies and plenty of room and it don't show up on any of our maps. So the chances of the Master and his forces coming back are slim. We're heading there as soon as we can. We just need a bit more food stored up for the journey."

"Looks like we found you just in time then."

Audrey smiled. "Yeah."

Rose pressed her lips together, trying to decide whether or not to warn her. If they were leaving so soon, chances were they'd be long gone before Moran came this way. But, still, there was the chance they wouldn't. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, she lowered her voice, "Audrey…I should warn you. There's a good chance that UCFs might turn up once we're gone."

Audrey frowned. "What?"

"There's this one bloke. He's a UCF—been tracking us since…God, Tennessee. Maybe longer. He's killed entire camps just because they wouldn't betray us. We're only going to stay until tomorrow maybe, then we're heading further south. You should get gone as soon as you can."

She was silent for a long minute, looking around at their camp forlornly. "Thanks for the heads up. Now, how about I get everyone rounded back up for you?"

Less than five minutes later, Rose and Martha had their audience. They'd learned during their travels that it was best to get their message across as early as possible just in case they had to high tail it out of there quickly. Rose asked for anyone who had an injury or bad wound to come forward and six people—two men, one woman, the teenage boy with sandy hair, a freckle-faced redhead boy, and a small Native American girl with messy pigtails. While she worked on their injuries and ate breakfast, Martha told the listeners about what she liked to call their 'Four Things and a Lizard' incident.

When their message had been delivered, along with the cover up, Audrey dismissed everyone to their duties. Their primary job done, Martha asked to be put to work in camp while Rose took a small nap to recuperate. A sprained wrist, some cuts, a burn, a broken thumb, and a puncture wound that'd been progressing merrily towards a dangerous infection was enough to tire her out. As Rose was settling down to sleep, Martha popped her head back in and informed her that she was going out with the gatherers and possibly later with the hunters.

Rose came-to when the sun was high in the sky with the sound of quiet giggling and a pubescent voice hissing, "Come on you little rugrats, get away from there. Let her sleep."

"But she's been asleep for hours!" a child protested.

"Because she's tired. Get lost!"

"Maybe she's wants to play!"

Rose sighed and unzipped the flap on the door, peering through the protective mesh at the four surprised and sheepish children outside her tent. Kris, the sandy-haired teenager she'd healed earlier groaned quietly and slapped his face with his hand. "Oh, God, now you've done it."

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" she droned dramatically.

Kris peeked over his hand at her. The children didn't quite catch on that she was teasing and looked quite scared.

"U-uh, Wayne, Sheena, Kari, and Brad," stuttered the red-haired boy. "You fixed up my arm earlier."

Rose raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Um…do you want to play with us?" Kari, the pig-tailed Native American girl asked hopefully.

"You don't have to," Kris interjected quickly.

Part of Rose really wanted to tell them to bugger off so she could get some more sleep but their faces were adorably hopeful and she hadn't had a romp in a while. So she allowed a smile to spread slowly across her face and reached for her boots. The children saw what she was doing and one let out a joyous whoop and another tugged at the zipper of her tent. Tiny hands pulled the flap open and their owners crowded forward eagerly until Kris pulled them away from the tent.

"Give her some room to get out, guys."

Rose tossed him a grateful smile as she crawled out of her tent. "Right. What are we playing, then?"

"How come you talk like Harry Potter?" Sheena, the little girl with curly brown hair, asked.

Rose was quite used to that question—or one just like it—from children who had never heard anything other than their own accent outside television. She took it in stride. "'Cos I used to go to Hogwarts."

The looks on their faces were worth it.

"No, I'm joking," she said a moment later. Their shoulders slumped and they looked disappointed, except for Wayne, who looked disgruntled. "But Harry Potter's from England, like me."

"Do you guys really drink tea?" Brad, the smallest boy with black hair, asked.

"Every day."

He wrinkled his nose. "Eugh."

"Do you really eat 'French fries'?" she countered.

"Yeah."

"Eugh." She wrinkled her nose stuck out her tongue. Wayne and Kari giggled. Brad smiled.

She felt a feather-light pressure on her head and swiveled her head around. Sheena was touching her hair. "Your hair's like mine." Rose's hair was its natural brown color, messy from sleep and days without a decent brushing, and hadn't been washed since the night they arrived in Yachats.

"Used to be blonde," Rose said. "Back when I could dye it whenever I wanted. And it was really soft and straight, too."

"Don't worry. Nobody's got good hair these days." Kris tugged at his own shaggy hair. "Nobody's got time or decent scissors."

"Can we play now?" Wayne demanded.

"Fine, Wayne. What do you want to play?"

He considered it for a second. "Hide and seek."

The rules were simple. You had to stay within the camp boundaries and you could only hide in someone's tent if they said yes. Base was the large yew tree near the middle of camp—they led her over to it so she could see—and whoever was it had to count to fifty there. No going easy on them just because they were kids. No. peeking.

Rose paused to tie her skirt up on one side so it wouldn't hinder her as she ran then nodded that she was ready to play.

"OnetwothreeNOTIT!" Kari screeched.

"Not it!" "Not it!" "Not it!" "Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Wayne's it."

The ginger boy heaved a sigh and turned around, hiding his face in his hands against the tree and started to count loudly.

"Now we hide," Sheena told Rose seriously before darting off. Brad and Kari were already gone.

"Do you have to babysit them every day?" Rose asked Kris. He nodded. "Me and Stevie take turns sometimes." He glanced at Wayne who had already reached twelve. "You better run. He won't wait a second after fifty before he comes after you."

He took off running away from the tree and Rose headed in the opposite direction. The kids had an obvious advantage, living at camp all these months. They probably knew every nook and cranny someone their size could hide in. Narrowing those options down to one she could fit in wouldn't take very long. She spotted the elderly couple, Jasper and Sandra, sitting outside their tent in their lawn chairs with a basket of clothes between them. Sandra had a shirt in her lap and she appeared to be mending it.

Rose ran up to them, glancing over her shoulder at the base tree. "Can I hide in your tent?" she asked.

Sandra raised her eyebrows. "The kids roped you into hide 'n seek, didn't they?"

Rose nodded.

"Sure. Just try not to get dirt on the blankets."

She nodded in thanks and ducked into their tent, squishing herself into the small corner next to the door. Outside, she heard the couple shifting their chairs around and, glancing out, realized that they'd blocked her from view. Sandra winked at her over her shoulder.

The next few minutes were relatively quiet. She heard one of the kids shriek playfully somewhere on the other side of the camp but other than that, nothing. About five minutes after she'd crawled into the tent, she heard Wayne's voice just outside. "Have you seen Rose?" he asked.

"Rose?" Sandra asked. "Who's Rose?"

"That lady that showed up yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, she went out gathering with Kirsten and them earlier."

"No," he sighed. "The other one. The one who can heal people."

"Oh. Her. Nope," Jasper replied, popping the 'p' in a way that reminded Rose of the Doctor. For a moment, her breathing stopped and her chest ached with a pain as familiar as the sound of her breathing.

"You sure?" Wayne asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

"Well, you know us old folks. Memory's not what is used to be. But I don't think I saw her go into my tent about five minutes ago and not come out."

"Oi!" Rose protested loudly, scrambling to get out of the tent. Wayne cried out triumphantly. She darted past the gleeful pair on their lawn chairs and made a beeline for base. Wayne chased after her but she was faster from her years as a time traveler, Torchwood agent, and her months on the run, and she was at the yew tree before he could even get close to her. Everyone else was already there and they cheered her on as she neared.

Rose slapped her hand against the gnarly bark and spun around. "Safe!" shrieked Kari.

Wayne slowed as he neared the tree and doubled over with his hands on his knees. "No—no fair," he panted. "You're like a freaking ninja or something."

"Not a ninja," she promised. "So does that mean he's it again?"

"No, he got Sheena." Kris said. The girl in question huffed once then ducked under the branches to press her face into the bark.

The players once again scattered. This time Rose decided to try something other than a tent. She looked around for a good spot as she ran and spotted a tree with a few sturdy branches low enough for her to grab—but probably not low enough for a child. Well, they'd told her not to go easy on them. Maybe they wouldn't have said that if they knew how much experience she had at hiding.

She braced one foot against the tree and then reached for the lowest branch and pulled herself up onto it. She rested there for a second to make sure it wasn't going to break, then she reached for the next one. She climbed up about two meters up where the branches were thicker then settled down on one to wait.

But she wasn't waiting as long as she thought. Less than a minute later, Sheena was staring up at her from beneath the tree.

"I found you."

How the hell did she do that? "Sheena," she said slowly. "Did you peek?"

She bit her lip. "No…"

Rose raised her eyebrows. She carefully descended from the tree, landing with a light thud. She folded her arms and frowned at Sheena who made no move to tag her. "You sure about that?"

"Um," the little girl mumbled.

"That's what I thought."

"Sorry."

"Uh huh." Rose frowned at her for another moment. Then she winked and tore off towards base. Sheena didn't even bother chasing after her.

Kari came running up a few minutes later, giggling breathlessly, tagged the tree, then sat down next to Rose. She saw Sheena a few yards away slow to a halt then run in another direction in search of someone else.

"Where were you hiding?" Kari asked.

"Not telling," Rose said. "I might hide there again."

"Okay."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Rose alternated between tracking Sheena's progression and glancing down at the little girl next to her. Yesterday when she'd been watching Rose and Martha unpack, she'd been alone in her tent. Last night and this morning, Rose had seen one Native American man in the crowd, but Kari hadn't been anywhere near him.

"Kari…"

"Hmm?"

"Where's your mum 'n dad?"

"Dead." No hesitation, no sadness, like it was a simple fact to her.

Rose nodded, expecting as much. It wasn't uncommon for parents to have shielded or concealed children at the cost of their own life in the initial attack or afterwards. "Who are you with?"

"Kris's mom takes care of me." Again, like a simple fact.

A coping mechanism, Rose realized. One she'd seen many times. Pretend it happened to someone else. Maybe not the healthiest way to go but it worked for her then Rose wouldn't say anything. She didn't have time to play counselor.

The peaceful air was abruptly shattered by three sharp whistle blasts. Everyone in camp turned towards the sound almost as one. Kari stiffened. The whistle went off again three times from a different direction. Then there was a gunshot. Someone screamed, "INCOMING!" and all hell broke loose.

It wasn't hard to guess what was happening. But how? How?! Was it a random raid or had Moran somehow tracked them again? It was uncanny how this man always seemed to find them even when, by rights, they should have lost him long ago.

Rose grabbed Kari and hoisted her towards the lowest branches of the tree. "Grab on the branches, get out of sight." Kari did, hauling herself onto the nearest branch. "And no matter what you see or hear, don't come out of that tree. If it's who I think it is, they'll kill you."

The whistle blasted again, nearer to camp this time, and Rose heard a loud clattering noise from one side. The noise makers on the wire. Oh, God, they were here.

Kari's breath came in quick, panicked gasps. "What about the others?!"

"I'll try to get to them. Now climb!" She barked. "Go."

Kari nodded and reached for the next branch. Rose waited until she was sure the little girl had it then she took off for their tent. A single gunshot ran through the air and someone shouted what sounded like a battle cry before she heard a shotgun go off. The campers were fighting back!

She cast her mind out, searching for Martha's. She wasn't in the camp. She must still be out with the gatherers. Good, that meant she was safe for the moment. Ducking into their tent, Rose immediately began grabbing the various belongings they'd taken out and shoved them back into their bags. She grabbed their sleeping bags and rolled them haphazardly, hooking them onto the bags as well.

A scream just outside their tent drew her attention. Rose peered outside and saw a woman whose long blonde hair was in the grasp of a UCF at least twice her size. As the woman struggled, he moved closer to her, grabbing her waist, and Rose just happened to see his face. It wasn't Moran but she recognized him as one of the men who always traveled with him.

The world around her sharpened into focus, as if she'd been seeing the world from behind opaque glass all along and now she was seeing for the first time. Colors were brighter, more distinct, details she would not otherwise notice became evident. The song of Time filled her mind, a haunting melody weaving through the sounds of chaos in her ears. She could feel time itself hissing and crackling around her—all wrong from the paradox they lived in but still progressing, as it should.

She could feel the potential outcomes looming before her, all of them branching from her decision now. Act or don't act. Fight or flight? Attack or hide?

She let out a quiet hiss as her policy of keeping out of sight and the fight went to the pot. Not again. She would not sit by again and let people die when she could help them.

She didn't even remember making the decision to move but she was abruptly aware that she was sprinting towards the man at full tilt. "Get off her!" she shouted. Dimly, she realized voice had taken on that strange dual-toned quality that came on in the direst circumstances. As he turned, she punched him as hard as she could. Pain zinged through her hand but her body began repairing any damage almost immediately. The woman kicked the soldier hard in the groin, wriggled free, and stumbled away.

He doubled over, grasping at himself, and Rose kicked him in the tailbone. He went down hard, gasping, and rolled onto his back. She planted her foot in the center of his chest and pressed down. He gawked up at her.

"You!" he gasped. For a moment, hunter and hunted stared at each other, both equally surprised to be facing each other in such a position. She could see her eyes, gleaming with the power of time, reflected in his. But he recovered quickly and bellowed, "IT'S HER! IT'S ROSE—"

She thought of the dozens of people she'd met that this man had killed, and it was for them, not for her own preservation, that she slammed her foot into his throat, crushing his windpipe. He would die slowly, gasping for air.

She heard a strangled cry just to her right. Her head whipped around and she saw the blonde woman she had rescued, staring at the scene before her in terror. Her eyes flicked from Rose to the dying man and back again. Rose hissed out a breath between her teeth. "Run!" she snarled. "Hide!"

The woman stumbled back, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away. In the back of Rose's mind, something whispered that it was her she wanted to get far away from, but she could not bring herself to care as she swung her head around, seeking another. She found one almost immediately with his gun trained on Sandra, who knelt on the ground next to Jasper, who was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder.

Rose snarled and her mind shot forward, slamming into the soldier's with enough force to completely obliterate any natural protections he had. She reveled in the panic she felt rising up as he realized he was being attacked. She jumped at him, slamming her hands against the sides of her head, using the contact to push deeper into his mind, further than she'd ever dared to go into anyone's mind before. As she went she ravaged everything she touched—memories, emotions, thoughts—she razed them all to nothing.

By the time he hit the ground, he no longer even knew his own name.

Rose stood there for a moment, panting, then her eyes flicked down to Jasper. She knelt down next to him and pressed her glowing palm against his shoulder. No exit wound on the other side, which meant the bullet went clean through. Good Conserve your energy, the voice in her head whispered. She mended the arteries so he wouldn't bleed and urged his skin to repair itself quickly before breaking off the contact.

A child's scream pierced the air over the sound of gunfire and shouting.

Without a word to either of them, she leapt to her feet and went racing towards the source of the screaming. Kris was grappling with a blonde UCF soldier while Brad and Sheena hid in the tent behind him. Blood gushed from Kris's nose, and the soldier had four parallel gouges in his cheek, like he'd been clawed at. The soldier punched Kris in the temple and the teenager went sprawling to the ground.

Sheena screamed again.

The soldier kicked him in the side and Kris curled in on himself protectively. He moved to kick him again and Rose sprang.

"Get away from him!" She snarled. He only just had time to turn before she was on him. He stumbled back from the force and her extra weight and he hit the ground hard. She rolled off of him and sprang into a protective crouch in front of Kris.

He blinked dazedly for a moment then rolled onto his side to push himself up. He saw her, then, and for a moment he was afraid. She could tell the instant he recognized her. Most of the fear drained away as his face hardened and he pushed himself to his knees, scrambling for the radio on his belt as well as his gun. She considered snapping his neck then and there. But there were at least sixteen more of his people scattered throughout the camp. It would take too long to get them all one by one. By then over half the camp would be dead. She had to make them come to her.

The soldier pointed his gun at her head with one hand and pressed the button on the radio with his other. Keeping his eyes locked on her, he barked into the radio. "Target 'A' located. I repeat: Target 'A' located. Inner area of the camp, South side. She's aggressive but unarmed. Target 'B' nowhere in sight."

He let go of the button on his radio as other voices confirmed that they'd received his message and were on the way. He took a deep breath through his nose and lowered his radio.

"Thanks," she said and uncertainly flickered across his face. "You just made my job a lot easier."

The gun turned to dust in his hand and in the two seconds he took his eyes off her to gawk at the empty space, she pounced. She grabbed his head tightly between her hands and snapped his neck. She released him and his body flopped to the ground.

"Rose…?"

Rose whirled around.

Kris was propped up on his arms, staring at the body of the soldier behind her. In the tent, Sheena and Brad were watching the scene with wide, horrified eyes. He looked up at her and swallowed.

"Get up," she ordered. "Quickly. I left Kari in the yew tree. Get them up there with her. I'll keep them busy."

"They'll kill you!" He protested.

Her answering grin was absolutely feral. "They'll try."

Rose leaped to her feet and screeched at the top of her lungs, "COME GET ME YOU BASTARDS!" She could see them weaving through the tents towards her… most of the UCFs she'd spotted. She shot off in the opposite direction from Kris and the kids and, predictably, the soldiers followed her.

"HALT!" one of them shouted.

She heard a gun go off and felt the bullet racing through the air towards her. She swerved sharply just a second before it passed through where she'd been a second before. She veered around a tree in her path and found herself face to face with an African American UCF and his gun. She grabbed the muzzle before he had time to react and pushed it down, twisted around, and elbowed him in the nose as hard as she could. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Another one charged at her. Reaching beneath her shirt, she pulled the knife out of her belt. He came at her and she ducked underneath his arms, bringing her own up and stabbed him in his back. He screamed. She pulled it out then slashed the back of his neck.

It was the most exhilarating thing she'd experienced in a long time. The rush of power and adrenaline through her body, the ease in which she fought, the way they could scarcely land a blow. They were nothing—weak, insignificant, beings who did not deserve even the energy she spent on them. But they threatened her and the woman who had become her sister and had killed so many in their drive to capture her. They had to be stopped.

Rose twisted around, ready for another. But none came. Her clothes were ripped and her knife was still lodged in someone's throat. Nearly a dozen bodies lay strewn around her, some dead, some dying, some with minds so ravaged that they would never function again.

It's not enough, something inside her hissed. Where is their leader?

She heard a click of a gun and spun around. There he stood, the man who had been pursuing them for so long. His hair was shorter than she remembered, but his moustache remained, and his heavily lined face was taught with anger. He had a crying brunette teenager—Stevie—in a headlock with the muzzle of a pistol pointed right at her head.

"Let her go," Rose growled.

"Why? So you can kill me? No way," Moran replied.

"STEVIE!" Someone shrieked.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Moran cautioned. He gave Stevie a shake. "She's a pretty thing. It'd be a shame if I had to blast her head open."

Stevie whimpered.

Rose's breath slid between her teeth in a hiss. She didn't have it in her to destroy his gun from this far away and if she tried to get any closer he was sure to pull the trigger. He'd slaughtered children younger than Stevie before.

She glanced around. It seemed as if the entire camp had witnessed what she'd done. They were all watching from afar or peeking out of their hiding places. Behind her, a woman sobbed.

"Give it up, Moran," she spat. "You're outnumbered. You pull the trigger and we'll be all over you."

"Ah, but she'll still be dead," he pointed out. "Do you really think we came alone? The moment Jacob said he'd found you I radioed in backup. There are at least fifty more soldiers en route for this little campsite. And when they get here, you'll all be dead."

The sounds of the survivor's distress filled the air and Moran smirked. Rose's breathing was beginning to slow, the buzz of power fading from her veins. The song in her head was quieting. She was running out of time.

"Unless," he said loudly, "of course, you surrendered. You and your friend Martha. I know she's around here somewhere."

Rose swayed slightly as the exhaustion began to creep in.

"Martha Jo-o-ones," he called in a loud sing-song. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Her legs gave out. With a sigh, she fell onto her hands and knees. Her arms nearly buckled beneath her but by some miracle, she managed to keep herself up. A few people cried out in alarm. The song continued faintly in her mind but the fire had gone.

"Oh, wow. You don't look so good, Tyler."

Rose raised her head to look at him. Then she noticed the bodies around her. Men with their necks twisted awkwardly, their throats slashed, their heads dented, and a few that looked unharmed but their faces were completely and utterly blank. One man's face and eyes were gone entirely and she could see his skeleton surrounded by the flesh that she hadn't dissolved away. Her stomach did somersaults and she had to look away.

Oh, God, what had she done?

"…You know, it's a shame the Master wants you alive," Moran said morosely, drawing her attention back to him. "You've been quite a pain in my ass, Rose Tyler."

"Good," she spat. The rage from before was coming back.

"When I was assigned to capture you, I expected it to be a quick job. A week max. We were taught how to see through your little perception filters. We even have this nifty little gadget that let us hone in on your biosignature. But you just kept slipping past us."

Rose ducked her head and stared at the ground. So that was how they'd done it. Rose was unique in the whole world. She didn't know much about biosignatures, but she knew finding hers would be like finding a piece of gold amongst silver. He really had been tracking her all along. No wonder they had always seemed to catch up with them when by rights they should've lost him.

She shook her head. Bad idea. Dizziness washed through her and she very nearly fell over. She was so tired and it was probably only the adrenaline still keeping her conscious.

"So what's it gonna be, Rose? Are you going to surrender yourself and Miss Jones to me? Or are you going to let everyone here die like all those other times?"

"I vote neither."

Martha! Rose's head snapped up.

She was standing just behind Moran with a long filleting knife pressed against his throat. Rose smiled.

Moran glanced at her. "There you are, Jones. I was wondering when you'd turn up."

"Let her go, Moran."

"Cut my throat if you want. There's still a small army heading this way. You'll all still die."

Martha tightened her grip on the handle.

"Besides, I don't think you have it in you," he went on. "Way I hear it, Rose is the fighter, the healer, the Torchwood agent. And some guy's piece of tail. What are you?"

"More than you know," Martha growled.

"Does Rose even need you? What's your role in this team? Some sort of assistant? Side-kick? Why does Our Master even careabout you?"

"Shut up!"

Moran laughed loudly. He threw himself backwards, knocking into Martha. Rose watched in horror as the knife slipped from her fingers. His grip on Stevie must've loosened because she was suddenly struggling against him furiously. She got her head down enough that she was able to sink her teeth into his arm. He howled in pain and she elbowed him in the stomach before wriggling free and racing away.

He stood there, rubbing his arm with a furious expression on his face. Then he rounded on Martha who was propped up on her bum on the ground, rubbing her chest. She saw him turn and started scrambling backwards madly.

"I think Our Master will forgive me if I only brought back Rose Tyler alive," he said as he raised the gun.

A shotgun went off somewhere nearby and Rose saw Moran stumble back from the impact. On the other side of a tent directly across from Rose, one of the men was lowering his shotgun with a satisfied smirk on his face. Rose exhaled in relief and finally let herself sink fully to the ground.

Martha scrambled to her feet and raced towards Rose, careful to avoid Moran's body. He wasn't dead yet. She dropped to Rose's side and lifted her chest off the ground with her arm. "You're alright, I've got you."

"You took your time," Rose grunted.

Martha looked around at the bodies and Rose felt tears welling in her eyes. "Rose, did you…?"

Rose nodded and burst into tears. "I c-couldn't… I couldn't sit by again. Not again. I couldn't let them. I just couldn't."

"It's okay," Martha assured her quietly. "I promise you, it's okay. You saved them, Rose. You saved us. Now they can't follow us anymore."

Rose couldn't even catch her breath to tell Martha that she was wrong. They could find them again. As long as Rose existed as she was, they would always be able to find them. Oh, but she was so tired. She'd done more in the last few minutes than she ever had. If she didn't allow herself to rest very soon she might not recover. Even though there were more soldiers coming, she didn't have the strength left in her to stand, never mind run. She raised her head to tell Martha this when she saw movement just beyond her friend's shoulder.

Moran was bleeding out on the ground—he only had minutes left at most—but he still had the strength in him to raise his gun and point it at them.

"NO!" she cried, shoving against Martha just as the shot rang out.

Fiery hot pain seared in her side, just below her ribcage. People started screaming and she heard two more gunshots go off but she felt no more pain so she could only assume he either missed or someone else had shot him.

"ROSE!" Martha shrieked. Rose felt herself being rolled over and the pain in her side spiked. She cried out and a fresh wave of tears dripped from her eyes. Martha pressed her hands against Rose's side and she cried in pain again. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she sucked in quick shallow breaths.

Martha's voice was garbled and it took her a few seconds to make sense of her friend's words. "Are you healing yourself? Rose, answer me, are you healing yourself?"

There was no tingling around the wound, no soothing warmth. She shook her head.

"No. No, no. You've got to."

She tried. She reached for the power within her but she could not find it. She'd used it all up. "I can't."

Martha stared at her and for a moment it was if Rose could hear her thinking even though she hadn't initiated any link. Compression on the wound was only a temporary solution. She needed a hospital or she would die.

A tiny laugh bubbled past her lips. "I thought that I'd die on some alien planet far away. Saving the world. Or maybe old, in my bed, with the Doctor right there…."

"You're not gonna die," Martha said. Tears streamed from her eyes. "You're not."

Rose wondered who she was trying to convince. She reached her hand over and slid it around one of Martha's, holding it as tightly as she could. "Martha," she whispered. Martha stared at her for a second and then lifted the hand Rose was holding away from the wound and squeezed it as tightly as she could. "You can do it. You can save the world."

"I can't. Not on my own."

"You can," she insisted. "And you have to. Or else it was all for nothing. …I believe in you."

Martha took a deep breath and nodded.

It was getting harder to breathe, harder to keep her eyes on Martha. Darkness was creeping around her vision. She was so tired.

But she didn't want to die. Not without seeing the Doctor one last time. She wanted his face to be the last thing she saw, his arms to be the last thing she felt. She closed her eyes and imagined him sitting next to her. He would—he would be crying. Begging her not to go, not to leave him, because she'd promised him forever. She'd promised. No… No. As much as she wanted him here, it was good that he wasn't. She didn't want one of his last memories of her to be her broken, bleeding body.

She opened her eyes again and looked into Martha's. "Take care of him," she breathed.

"I will," Martha promised.

Rose thought she smiled but she wasn't sure. She couldn't feel her face anymore. She couldn't feel anything, actually, except a familiar, soothing warmth. She closed her eyes, sinking into it. "And tell him…I love…"