I'm not even sorry.

He had always loved this planet. Its people may not have been the best, and he'd be lying if he said he enjoyed their company—with a few exceptions; Romana was always the highlight of his time here. But the planet itself was gorgeous. He'd been all over the universe, seen the most breathtaking sights, but nothing could quite compare to the beauty of his home world. The burnt orange skies, the brown water, the mighty peaks and rolling hills, the silver trees, the beautiful red grass, even the flat barren expanses were stunning to behold.

He lay on his back in the soft grass, watching the clouds drift by overhead. The twin suns warmed his body and the fresh wild air filled his nostrils with each breath. He could stay like this all day, basking in this beautiful Gallifreyan day.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, and when he opened them it was nighttime. They sky was filled with stars. All three of the moons were full and high in the sky together, something he hadn't seen since his youth.

A quiet noise, almost like a whine, caught his attention. He craned his neck and saw that a slender she-wolf was sitting a few feet away, head cocked to the side. At first he thought her fur was white but then he realized it was actually a light golden color and her eyes were deep gold. Her entire body shone with light that seemed to dance around her, rippling and swaying through the air, swirling with patterns and twinkling like the stars above them.

The breath rushed from his chest and his body moved of its own accord, sitting up so he could see her properly. The species known as 'wolves' to human beings did not exist on Gallifrey, and the one species that resembled them had died out long ago. Yet there she sat.

Lord of Time, a feminine voice whispered in his mind. His eyes widened in surprise. He was the only being for miles, how on Gallifrey was someone speaking that clearly in his mind? Unless… He glanced at the wolf.

The she-wolf stood, and he saw her legs shake from the effort, but she smiled at him. A real smile, lips curled up in a way that was not at all threatening. I found you.

She took a step forward and her legs gave out beneath her. He was on his feet before she even hit the ground, racing to her side.

She was even more beautiful up close, practically exuding warmth. He reached out to touch her, help her somehow, before considering that it might not be a good idea. Beautiful she may be, but she was powerful and wild. He could sense it. And she was obviously injured and, therefore, even more dangerous. Yet he wasn't afraid. She blinked at him, lifting her head, and let out a long whine.

Slowly, carefully, he touched his hand to the side of her neck. Her fur was like warm silk and he couldn't resist running his fingers through it. She rumbled in quiet approval and he felt it reverberate against his hand. Ducking her head, she rested it against the ground again. His other hand joined the first, stroking up and down her flank and back gently, letting the soft fur slide through his fingers.

The wolf blinked at him, and then turned her head to look at the silver forest in the distance. I want to go there. I want to run. Why did she sound familiar?

Then you should, he replied.

Why did he have the fierce urge to join her? He'd enjoyed the running for quite some time now but there was something about her. He was supposed to run with her like they had many times before. Yet he couldn't recall ever meeting her before now. He'd met lupine species before, but not her. Never her. He'd remember.

But I ran for so long, she whined mournfully. I can't anymore. I have to rest.

Her flank was cooling beneath his touch, her eyes beginning to droop, the light around her dimming.

Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?

Of course, he thought in reply. Her tail flicked up and down feebly and he knew she'd heard him.I'll stay as long as you want me.

He shifted his legs so they were lying straight out in front of him and patted his lap with a hand. She watched him, and then shifted over to him and rested her head in his lap. He hesitated for a second, and then gently began to pat her head. She made that rumbling sound again and her tail flicked up and down once more.

Thank you, she whispered as her eyes slipped shut.

She was so cold.

The Doctor slowly drifted into consciousness but didn't open his eyes. He hadn't felt this well-rested in months. There hadn't been any nightmares at all. For a moment, he basked in the contentment leftover from his dream. His…dream… The golden wolf and a voice that had been oh-so-familiar at the time, but now he couldn't recall. His internal clock was tetchy because of the paradox, but he still was able to tell he'd slept five and a half hours. Good enough for him.

He allowed his eyes to gradually open and found himself staring at a smooth wooden wall. Right. He was in his cell today.

Jack's cell privileges had been revoked again. He was tied up somewhere down below where the Master wouldn't have to deal with the Captain's wrongness unless he decided to kill him for fun. Sooner or later, Jack would be put back in his cell and sooner or later he'd lose his rights to it again. The Jones family was crammed into a single cell together which was good. He worried for Tish and Francine if left on their own. The Master was bad enough but he had his wife. Some of the soldiers onboard the Valiant hadn't been given leave in a while, and there was every chance they might suddenly decide they had a right to one of the women. Clive acted as a barrier between them and the unsavory characters…for the most part. Jack helped when he could. Those altercations were usually what led to him being revoked cell rights.

But, all in all, their living situations were stable.

The Doctor, however, was relocated on the whims of the Master. Sometimes he was locked in this cell or one just like it. Sometimes he was locked in cupboards. Sometimes he was tied up across the room from the TARDIS, close enough that he was unable to completely block her screams, but too far to help her. Occasionally they'd roll him into a shower room and toss him a bar of soap and not let him out for hours. Sometimes he was simply left in the control room in that blasted wheelchair he was so dependent on these days. There were other places he'd been put in, too—like that time a few months ago when he'd been given a room in the living quarters with decent accommodations and a bed almost as comfortable as the one he shared with Rose. But then later that night he'd discovered his room was right next to the Saxons' and he'd had to listen to them on and off all night. He never quite worked out the Master's intentions with that one.

But it had made him think of Rose.

Oh, Rose… He closed his eyes again and pictured her as she had been the last time they had woken up together in her room in the Torchwood Hub... The loving, serene smile on her face as she demonstrated her telepathic abilities by clumsily nudging his mind... It had been the first innocent, gentle telepathic contact he'd felt since before the War. He recalled the pure love and trust he'd felt when his mind had delved into hers... The shyness as she offered to form a bond with him, out of love and compassion for him... The way she looked with her head on her pillows, golden hair fanning out around her.

Then he recalled how she had looked in the last moment he'd seen her. Her kiss. Her whispering, "I love you." Tear-streaked cheeks, the heartbroken look on her face, the determination in her eyes as she covered Martha's hand with her own and activated the manipulator.

She was the reason he fought. She had been for so long now. Everyday before he began meditating and honing in on the Archangel Network, he thought of seeing her again when it was all over. He had faith in her—in both of them. He knew they would succeed.

Logan, one of the kinder guards onboard the Valiant, showed up half an hour after he'd awoken. He was one of the older soldiers, right around 56 if the Doctor had to guess. His acts of kindness were subtle to avoid tipping off the Master but the Doctor knew a friend when he saw one. He helped rather than forced the Doctor into his chair. His food portions were always larger when Logan delivered them. Little things like that.

Logan gave him his breakfast—some sort of fruit dish, the Doctor didn't really care to identify what he was eating—then rolled the wheelchair into the cell. "Our Master has requested your presence in the control room."

The Doctor raised one eyebrow as he stood. "Requested?"

Logan placed a steadying hand on the Doctor's arm as he eased himself down into the seat. "I believe the word could be interchanged with 'demanded' if you'd like."

The Doctor didn't respond. He didn't speak much these days, not even to Jack or the Joneses unless he needed to. Definitely not to the Master. He had nothing to say to him that the other Time Lord wanted to hear. He opted to spend most of his days lost in thought or focusing on the Archangel Network. He was a little over halfway finished.

Logan rolled him through the halls and up to the control room. The Doctor knew the moment they entered that this was not going to be a typical visit. Francine, Tish, and Clive were all present and seated on one side of the large table in the center of the room. Jack was seated on the other side, with his hands bound in a pair of sturdy cuffs. An overhead screen and projector—already running—had been set up at the end of the table. The Master was not present.

Logan rolled the Doctor into the empty space right next to him. He held back a sigh. These last few months had helped him grow accustomed to being near Jack but it still wasn't always easy. This looked to be one of those days.

"Doctor," Jack greeted quietly. Francine and Clive echoed him.

The Doctor inclined his head.

One of the doors opened and the Master bounded in with a gleeful smile on his face and a laptop under one arm. Lucy trailed behind him in a full-length black dress that made her look pasty, and the dark circles under her eyes all the more prominent. She looked greatly troubled and when her eyes met the Doctor's, he saw sorrow and—dare he say it?—remorse there.

"Good morning everyone!" The Master greeted. "Did you sleep well? I didn't sleep a wink! Do you know why?" he asked. He set the laptop down on the table, but didn't even bother waiting for them to answer. "I received the most exciting news last night. Or, actually, more of a confirmation of some news I received a few days ago. I considered sharing then…but I decided to get all the facts first. No need to get worked up over nothing!"

As he spoke, he opened the laptop and typed in a long password, then connected it to the projector with a thick blue cord. "It's, really, rather good news. Right, Lucy?"

"Good news," she echoed softly.

"Martha Jones," the Master said, earning the undivided attention of her family members, "is dreadfully normal. Plain old human. Rose Tyler, however, isn't. And, oh, Doctor, she is something." He grinned. "Really. Some of the stories that have gotten back to me about them. They say she can heal people just by touching them. Now how does that work?"

The Doctor said nothing.

"Oh, come on." The Master pouted. "Not even a hint? A little tiny hint? No?" He sighed. "Fine. Be like that. Did you know that whenever she does it, it affects her biosignature? To the point where it's traceable."

The Doctor curled his hands into fists. Oh, Rose. You've been healing people left and right, haven't you? Of course she had. She's Rose. Even if she knew it made her traceable, he knew she'd still do it.

"I've had a team following her signal for months. They always arrived too late, it seemed. Slippery, those two. A few weeks ago, however, the team reported they had tracked them to a camp along the coast of Oregon. Then, nothing. No radio contact, no phone calls. Curious, isn't it?" He looked at all of them mildly. "Now, at the same time, I've been getting reports of rumors and whispers from the people below. Martha Jones has been traveling along the Californian coast…and all accounts say the same thing: she's alone."

Rose must've found out she was being traced and separated from Martha. Or perhaps they split for another reason. Possibly to cover more ground. Maybe Rose remained behind for some reason. They had their mission, how they carried it out was up to them.

"Two days ago, a worker from a labor camp Martha stopped in reported something very, very interesting. I've got a recording of it, would you like to hear?" He didn't wait for their answer either way, striking a key on his computer with relish. An American voice raspy from overuse or disuse filtered through the filtered through the speakers.

"We'd heard the stories, you know. Two women traveling all over to find a way to kill the Master. Rose Tyler and Martha Jones." The Doctor heard the intakes of breath from the other side of the table and out of the corner of his eye he saw Francine sit up straighter, Clive clench his fists, and Tish cover her mouth with her hand. "Didn't really believe it until…she was there. Martha Jones, real as you and me, in our barracks. She told us about…things. Things and…things."

"What kind of things?" a smooth female voice inquired.

"Silly things. But we all knew the stories and we knew there was supposed to be two of 'em. So they asked. She said Rose killed an entire squadron of Enforcers to save the people at this camp. But then this one guy at the end, he tried to shoot her—Martha, I mean—but Rose pushed her out of the way. Took the hit instead. She died."

The air rushed out of the Doctor's body. His hearts stopped beating. A strange buzzing sound filled his ears. He became aware of how empty his mind was. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. No no no please no not her no no no not her no no no please not her too.

Over the buzzing in his ears, he could hear the Master's pleased voice. "So, naturally, I had to know if this was true. I sent a few Toclafane to sweep the area of their last transmission and they found the remains of a campsite. They reported some interesting things so a squadron of soldiers were sent out to have a better look. They took some photographs—would you like to see? I think you should."

This drew the Doctor out of his daze. "You're going to like this," the Master told them as the projector flickered on.

An image of a forest clearing—definitely Oregon or somewhere around there, all the trees and plants were indigenous to that area—filled the screen. In it there were the remains of four large pyres that he could tell from the remains burned a number of bodies each. Some of the skeletons remained mostly intact.

"You're looking at what remains of the team sent after Rose and Martha." The Master clucked softly. "They found a few dog tags in the ashes to confirm. And," he laughed quietly, "let me tell you, some of them had some pretty gruesome deaths."

The picture changed to one of a charred skeleton with its neck noticeably crushed. Jack whistled softly.

"Every, single one of the tracking squad and their backup," the Master informed them. "Dead. Killed. Just like the fellow said. Though, it would seem Rose wasn't entirely successful." The next picture showed a row of graves, each marked with a large stone or wooden cross that had a name carved into it. He showed them a few more angles of the same five graves. In the last picture, however, the Doctor noticed a possible sixth grave marker at the edge of the picture, away from the others.

The Master looked right at the Doctor and with a smile as dark as his hearts, he pressed the button to change the picture once more.

It was a stone the size of a football and it had the name Rose Marion Tyler carved into the smooth stone.

"You fucking bastard!" Jack spat. "What the hell is that?"

The Master cocked his head to one side and leaned one arm on the table. "Isn't it obvious? It's a grave."

"And you expect us to believe that?! Anyone can take a rock and carve a name into it. Doesn't make it real."

"You know—" he pointed at him "—I thought so too. So, naturally, I had them dig it up."

The Doctor growled at him and he so badly wanted to fling himself at the Master and break every bone in his body. How dare he?

"There was no body." The Master said seriously. "They found a burial shroud with nothing inside it. Except—" He dug around in his pocket "—for this."

He pulled out a thin silver chain and the Doctor's hearts clenched at the sight. Please no. "Have a look, Dumbledore." He said, tossing it to him.

Even in this state, the Doctor's hand still shot up and caught the chain reflexively. He twined it through his fingers, recognizing the familiar texture and shape, the unique silver sheen. Of course he recognized it. His people had called it Plyra Seut, a substance that was almost entirely indestructible, usually fashioned into various types of locks or jewelry. He'd chosen that material in the form of a necklace to give to Rose as a gift so she would always be able to keep her TARDIS key (and anything else she wanted to put on there) safe. No one could remove it but Rose and she would never leave it behind.

He felt Jack's hand on his shoulder. "Doc, is that—?"

His hands began shaking and his vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He blinked them away furiously but he couldn't stop the heavy sob from wrenching its way free. He heard Jack let out a roar of fury and his chair was jostled as the Captain lunged around him, presumably towards the Master. He didn't care.

If the man from the tape's word was to be believed, then she had died fighting. Saving people—protecting Martha. A tiny part of him was proud of her, his brave, selfless human. Of course she would've pushed Martha out of the way. Maybe she thought she could save herself with her own abilities. Maybe she hadn't cared either way. Had she suffered? His stomach clenched at the thought and his mind denied it while at the same time knowing it to be true. A bullet wound was painful no matter what. And unless someone had been merciful, it was likely she had simply bled out or suffered from a vital organ failure. Neither of which would have been quick and painless.

Worse still—she was gone. The only way that necklace could've been inside the shroud was if she, too, had once been. Perhaps later he might be rational and figure out how it was possible for her body to simply be gone, but for the moment, all he could think was that she was.

The Doctor sobbed again. Rose, precious girl, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Jack screamed as he was killed and the Doctor was granted a momentary reprieve from the perpetual discomfort he triggered, allowing him to think clearly. All wasn't lost. There was still hope. Martha was still out there, still traveling. They were living in a paradox and if the source of its stability was broken, time would erase these events. Everything that happened would be undone.

The Doctor looked down at Rose's necklace again, now the only thing he had of her. The Master would probably try to take it from him. That wasn't happening. He wrapped it around his fingers, thumb, and wrist, twisting and looping, until he couldn't wrap it any more. They would cut his hand off before he let anyone take it from him.

Left…left…left, right, left.

Left…left…left, right, left.

It was dull and monotonous but there was nothing else to think about. Everything else eventually led back to what she'd lost. She had to keep walking, had to keep going. Left, right, left, right, left, right, over and over, endlessly moving towards a goal that had never seemed further away.

She was gone. Her best friend, her sister, her partner, her fellow fugitive. It wasn't getting any easier as time wore on. Sometimes she liked to pretend Rose's perception filter was keeping her hidden from Martha as well and that she really was right behind her. It might not have been healthy but it worked and that was all Martha cared about.

Martha especially had to be careful when she was traveling. Rose's senses had been somewhat heightened by whatever was inside her head, and she'd always been able to provide advanced warning if anything was approaching them. Like Toclafane. Plus if she hurt herself now, she was completely on her own, no healer to get her back on her feet. If she wasn't a med student, she probably would've been screwed.

But there was one wound she couldn't do anything about. She missed Rose so much that it hurt. For well over a year, she had seen Rose almost every single day. The last six months had been spent almost entirely in her company. It was like she'd lost a vital limb and without it she was flailing. Everywhere she went the wound was torn right back open and had salt poured in. A majority of America's Pacific Coast knew their legend by the time she reached them. Each time she was asked where Rose was and each time she had to tell them Rose was dead. Then she had to tell them why and how so they wouldn't be discouraged.

"Rose fought to defend a group of people just like you and in the end she died to save me from a man who refused to die without taking one of us with him."

She had to try not to break down in front of them, either. Tears were to be expected but if she really let go like she wanted to, if she screamed and cried and threw things, they'd be afraid. They might not trust she was capable of doing this on her own. I don't think I can, she'd tell them if she could.

Rose was dead and for all she knew, the Doctor still believed her to be living. What would he say when he realized Rose wasn't with her when they were reunited? She was sure her imagination wouldn't be able to conjure the expression on his face when he realized his entire world had been taken from him. (Again.)

She wondered if her family were still alive on the Valiant or if the Master had killed them, too. She didn't even know where Leo was. He could be in a survivor group of his own or in a slave camp. Or he could be dead. She'd resigned herself to the fact that she might never know what his fate had been. Even if he was alive when this was all over he might not be able to locate them. He might not even know to look.

At least the Doctor would know what became of Rose.

Sometimes at night when she was forced to sleep on her own outside, she thought she could feel someone watching her. Which was entirely impossible, of course, because between the cloak of darkness and her perception filter, she was completely it was Rose's spirit watching over her or something. At least that's what she told herself. Or maybe she was just being paranoid and no one was watching her at all.

Martha found the UNIT base in San Diego on her own. She made contact with the remaining members of UNIT and told them of Adrienne Kramer's decoy plan. They'd known Kramer, respected her, and were quite willing to assist. It took a few days but then they presented her with a sleek black case containing a gun with slots for four vials to be inserted. They gave her four vials, one of them already filled with a clear blue liquid. Water with a bit of dye in it, they said. The other three she'd have to fill and dye herself when the time came.

She sailed the Pacific Ocean on her own. Well, not on her own. She was on transport ship and three of the crew members knew she was onboard, but she may as well have been alone. The last time she'd crossed the ocean she'd had Rose to keep her sane during the hours trapped below decks and scare off the rats with one look.

They were supposed to be in this together, watching each other's backs, saving the world as a team. Rose wasn't supposed to leave her halfway through. She wasn't supposed to die.

Well, now you know how the Doctor reacted :D