Doctor Who 1. Chapter 1

_Thank you everyone who has read and commented on this story. Your encouragement has led me to pursue writing beyond the scope of fan fiction. To that end, I rewrote this story with the goal of improving my craft. I learned a lot, and you'll notice the story has been streamlined, though the most important elements are still in-tact. My goal was to make Victor a more realistic character and remove myself from the writing to allow the story and the character to shine through. I've improved leaps and bounds now that I've invested in books, lectures, and read every article I can find on writing. The story is only 15 chapters long now. The remaining chapters will be blank, but I'll leave them up to keep the old reviews in place. Thank you so much. Please give it another read. With the added scenes, it will be well worth your time. And I hope you come to love the characters as much as I do. Thanks again to Bria, my beta.  
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><p><strong>The Price of Victory Chapter 1<strong>

Victor wiped the grime from the window pane with the back of his black velvet sleeve. In the distance, the capitol building in the city square collapsed in a spray of debris, embers streaking across the night sky. Pathetic. Not even their anti-technology pulse could save them. Hardly the challenge he'd hoped for from the famed planet Starfall.

The floor planks shifted behind him. His servant's reflection appeared in the glass and bowed, revealing the smooth crown of his charcoal-gray head. "My Lord," said Sikah in his usual velvety voice, "we have reports that the planet is surrendering on all fronts. What shall I tell them?"

"Tell them something insulting, something trite." Victor used the window as a mirror and straightened his collar. "Tell them, 'To the victor go the spoils.'"

Sikah dipped once more, then faded from the lamplight, leaving Victor's reflection hovering alone over the destruction. He ran his fingers down the contour of his unfamiliar face, still smooth from his morning shave. Regenerations were always such tricky affairs. One never knew what to expect, but this latest body suited him, so lean and young with eyes the same rich shade of brown as his hair—his favorite by far.

The stench of ozone punctured the stale air. A static charge prickled the back of his neck, sending tingles scurrying across his skin. How odd. Were the ash particles ionizing the atmosphere? He leaned forward and peered up at the stars barely visible through the smoke.

Blue light exploded around him. Granules embedded in his tongue, tasting of soot and old floor polish. He coughed, slung his arm over his mouth, and fumbled for his laser screwdriver.

A figure stirred in the far corner. Three footsteps sounded against the floorboards and a young woman emerged into the light. A wide-set jaw dominated her features, rivaled by eyebrows that looked too dark next to her blonde hair. She took in the bare room, then her gaze locked onto him and her mouth fell open. Recognition perhaps? Her attention fell to the laser pointed her direction and her expression twisted into confusion.

"This can't be right," she said with an old Earth accent that exuded 'underclass'. She dug out a communication device from her pocket and pressed it to her ear. "Control? Control?"

No one answered.

The girl cursed and snapped her communicator shut. "Have you got a name?" she asked him at last.

"Are you telling me you don't know who I am?" Not an intelligent assassin if she didn't know her target.

"I can't tell you that unless I know your name, now can I?" Before he could answer, she whacked the side of a circular device hanging around her neck—some type of yellow dome nested in a metal disc. "Blasted thing," she said. "Why isn't it working? It oughta be charging."

"It's the ZEG. The electro-magnetic gravitation interferes with anything that has an electrical current. Or haven't you noticed the lack of electricity?" He gestured toward the few oil lamps fastened to the wall.

"Say what now?" She clutched her forehead. "Oh, don't tell me I've landed in the outreaches of the Gerrosic Rift."

"Yes, you have. So tell me how you were able to get past this world's natural defenses when the most infamous Time Lord in all of history had to resort to alternative methods."

"Infamous?" She paused, then eyed the instrument in his hand. "I take it that's not a sonic screwdriver?"

He lowered his arm a centimeter. "Don't be absurd. It's laser-powered." Sonic powered screwdriver? Who'd have such a thing? Honestly.

"ZEG immune I imagine?" she asked without deviating her gaze.

"Best not to test that theory, for your sake. The interference could cause unpredictable results."

"I see." Her face brightened with an expression too polite to be sincere. "Well, I've got somewhere else to be, so if you could just give me a ride out of range of this little electro-magnetic pulse thingy, I'll be on my way."

He trained his weapon higher. "I don't think so, child. You appeared in the middle of my strategic headquarters during the eve of my victory. You aren't going anywhere."

She threw him an accusing look. "Oi! I'm not a child."

How odd that words cut her when threat of death did not. "Who are you?" he asked.

Once more, she fiddled with the gadget at her neck. "Doesn't matter."

With a flick of his wrist, a red beam shot the metal disc and it skittered across the floor.

She glanced down at the smoking hull. "Good shot. I'm impressed."

"I don't have time for your games, ape. Speak your name."

She giggled and pressed her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, mate. I know you're trying to be all threatening. It's just, you called me a—oh, you had to be there." She rolled her shoulders back and attempted a serious face, but the corner of her lips twitched. "Okay, commence with the threatening."

"Do you think this is funny? I could end you right now." He circled around her, his thumb grazing against the button.

"But you won't," she said without hint of concern. "'Cause you like a mystery, don't you? I fascinate you. You don't understand how I got here, and that's why you're gonna keep me alive."

He tightened his grip around his laser but didn't fire. "Easy enough to remedy." Red light raked along the front of her navy jacket, then puttered out. He hit the side of his screwdriver. Nothing.

"Trouble?" the girl asked with unmistakable amusement.

Blasted ZEG. He'd have to scan her tech aboard his ship for a proper diagnostic. He slipped his laser back in his breast pocket and patted the bulge. "I can glean enough from here. You're human, that much is obvious. Never liked humans as a whole. Primitive beasts, the lot of them, their ignorance matched only by their penchant for destruction. You are nothing."

She tilted her head to the side. "Is that so, Time Lord? Well, go on then. See for yourself. Look into my mind and tell me what you see." She stepped toward him.

Instinct compelled him back. Was this a trick? How did she know he was telepathic? This could be her moment to strike, and yet … something urged him forward, a hum along his senses like the sympathetic resonating of a tuning fork. Time energy, she bristled with it, but how?

As he inched toward her, the lingering scent of singed ozone intensified. He sucked in a breath and pressed his fingers to her temples. An image burned into his retinas of a goddess bathed in vortex, suspended outside of time and space. Converged timelines swirled in her wake.

He jerked back. "You're a walking paradox. That's impossible."

"Not impossible," she said looking far too pleased with herself. "Just a bit unlikely."

"Who and what are you?"

She flashed her teeth. "Oh, lots of things. Plus One, Defender of the Earth, The Valiant Child, the Stuff of Legend." She paused. "Oh, I'm being facetious, aren't I? Thing is, I can't say."

"Why not?"

"It could cause a chain reaction in the causal nexus, and those are nasty to clean up. I should know."

How dare she talk of time as though she knew its infinite intricacies? "Dropping a name is not going to alter the course of history. I think you give yourself far too much credit."

"We'll see." She sidestepped him and walked toward the window. "What about you? Got a name?"

"Victor." He over-emphasized the sharp consonants, willing the word to bite her.

"I knew a bloke once," she said. "Doctor, they called him, but he wasn't a doctor in the sense you would think. It was more of a title." She watched the fire spread along the hillside. A hard-to-read expression flickered across her face and then disappeared, replaced with that smug air that seemed to be her default demeanor. "Victor. Vickter, Weektorrrr … It's just a title innit? Not really your name. To the Victor go the spoils, am I right?"

He yanked his laser from his pocket. "What are you? An assassin?" The diagnostics on his screwdriver might be glitching, but he could still get off another shot.

"Don't be so daft," she said with a dismissive wave. "Why would I bother hopping in here unarmed to go against a Time Lord? You're what? Several centuries old? Still a few regenerations left, I'd wager. I'd say the odds are in your favor, mate."

He slid the notch on his laser to the highest level and he felt the cool metal power up under his fingertips. Good, it was working again. "How do you know so much about my species?" he asked her. He'd just defeated Gallifrey—he was still exhaling regeneration energy from the nasty ordeal—but the finer details of the life cycles of Gallifreyans ought to be nothing but forgotten tales in linear time.

A smile sat crooked on the girl's face as though she knew some great secret. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Victor?"

Another blast from his screwdriver sliced into the glass over her left shoulder and expanded into a spiderweb of hair-line fractures. "Pity, I missed." He shoved her against the riddled pane and pressed the metal diodes deep into her throat. "Do you reckon I'll miss his time?"

She didn't flinch. "No," she said softly. "I reckon if you shoot you'll find your mark, but at the cost of your own life."

"You're not very imaginative, are you?" He pushed the laser further into the soft tissue of her neck. The glass crackled in warning. "Like I haven't heard that before."

Her gaze didn't falter. "Maybe, but it makes no difference what you've heard or haven't heard. You're in grave danger. We all are. That's why I'm here."

She was either fearless, or an incredible actress. He relaxed his grip and squinted. "Explain."

"It's the darkness," she whispered. For the first time, he saw just a hint of fear—a widening of her eyes so slight he could have taken it for a trick of the light. "It's eating my current universe, and every universe. The stars are going out, one by one."

He pulled away but kept her at the end of his weapon. "Preposterous. I've seen no evidence of this."

She straightened herself and tugged at the end of her jacket. "That's 'cause I skipped ahead to a universe further out. Last jump, I almost dived straight into nothingness. Missed it by mere minutes before it consumed the planet I landed on. I'm trying to stay ahead of it, but make no mistake: it's coming, and it will be here soon."

"Travel between universes is—"

"Impossible. I know," she said. "If I had a shilling for every time I heard that one."

"I think I'd know more about it than you."

"Yeah? Well here I am standing right in front of you, mate, and I came out of nowhere so I'd say that has to count for something."

The floor creaked to his right. Sikah paused at the entrance. His dark gray skin and tunic melded into shadow and rendered him all but invisible except for his white eyes hovering in the air.

"Summon the guard," Victor ordered him.

Sikah blinked and vanished.

"Creepy," the girl said next to him. "So what is he then, some sort of cheshire cat wannabe?"

"Cat? No, he's a shadewalker."

"Oh." She chewed on edge of her thumb and glanced down at the nubs of her fingernails as if his answer satisfied her.

Such an oddity, this human. Impudent to a fault, sharp-tongued, and quick-witted, but a mystery in her own right, a mystery which warranted solving. He slipped his laser to the inside of his jacket. If she were capable of killing him, she would have done it.

A mass blocked the doorway. His prized Chulan warrior ducked his elongated snout under the cross-beam of the ceiling and entered, his talons scraping along the wood. Sikah trailed behind the reptilian's swinging tail.

"Process her and load her up with the rest of the loot," Victor said to the guard. "Don't forget her things, and try not to kill this one before I interrogate her."

The Chulan let out a low rumble in acknowledgment, then sprang on the girl and jerked her arms back to tie them.

"Easy there, big fellow," the girl said as she struggled to remain upright. "Blimey. Are you lot always in the habit of constraining your hitchhikers?"

Victor plucked a pebble from his sleeve. It skittered across the floorboards. "Actually, you're the first foolish enough to attempt it."

Sikah handed him a tablet. "Lord Victor, the steam vessel is ready for departure. This is the list of artifacts on-board. With limited communications, we won't have the full inventory list from the other shuttles until we dock."

Paper, how quaint. He put on his glasses and scanned the list in the low light. "Just one correction. Add another entry, one human female." The girl shifted in his peripheral vision. Finally, a proper reaction.

"Shall I call her indigenous?" Sikah asked.

Victor handed back the inventory list. "Heavens no. She's not indigenous. I'd never bother with their riffraff."

"What shall I identify her as, my Lord?"

Victor moved forward to examine his new catch. Seemed he had captured a goddess, the only one of her kind—quite an addition to his collection. "Class one, exotic," he said to Sikah. He trailed the back of his forefinger down length of her cheek and her pupils contracted in defiance.

She didn't fear him yet, but she would. He'd make sure of that


	2. Chapter 2

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter one for details.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

At last, his TARDIS filled the tiny porthole window to his right. Spires and edifices protruded from a massive mountain of granite as if seamlessly hewn from the rock face, all gleaming white and imposing against the black of space. He always did have a flare for the dramatic. The steam-powered shuttle swung in a wide arc and entered the docking hangar through the main tower. It hissed while it rolled to a stop.

As he opened the hatch, cool air smelling of engine grease rushed in. He disembarked and waved his entourage by him to unload. Another minute in that sweltering bucket and he would have been in danger of regeneration.

The girl wandered down the ramp a moment later, massaging the red rings around her wrists. She unzipped the front of her leather jacket, then stopped and stared at the stars visible through the open hangar. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Just outside the Gerossic Rift, orbiting a rogue planet."

"So what, you park your ship here and let the steam shuttles do your dirty work back on Starfall?"

He angled toward her. "You ask a lot of questions, but not the ones I expected. Aren't you the tiniest bit impressed by my floating fortress?"

"Better ride than that tin can, I'll give you that." She wiped the sweat at her hairline.

"I think you'll find that my ship is much more than just your average passenger freighter. I daresay it's the most extraordinary thing you'll ever see."

She crossed her arms. "Dunno about that. I've seen some pretty amazing stuff."

"Allow me the chance to prove it to you then." He gestured to the side.

She puffed her cheeks up and blew out a breath. "Fine. Got nothing better to do while my dimension cannon recharges. Don't lose that thing by the way, and don't play with it."

How amusing—she still thought he was going to let her go. "If I were you, I'd spend less time worrying about my things and more time worrying about myself, human. Now follow me and mind the cargo." He led her through the parade of crates, statues, and furniture.

"Sheesh," the girl said as she watched the artifacts file past. "You've got a bonafide museum."

"I do have a taste for the finer things, yes. I collect everything from the rarest art, relics, and technologies, down to the people who create them."

"You collect people?" She looked at the workers with newfound interest.

"Of course. My servants are hand-picked from the most notable people in history: artists, musicians, chefs, all at my beck and call. Even a few of the savants of Earth."

"So much for all your human scorn." She bumped up against his arm.** "**Thought you said you disliked our kind?"

He straightened the knot of his necktie scarf. "I said I dislike them as a whole. I dislike everything as a whole. I only take the best."

The girl walked backwards just to smirk at him, her tongue swept to the side. "Well in that case, I'm flattered, mate."

"As you can see," he said with a stern tone, "my ship is unmatched." He gestured toward the open chamber as they entered the atrium.

The girl gawked at the spiral of floors above. "Do the levels ever end?" Her voice echoed off the marble floors and walls.

"Not even I know that."

"How can you not know? Don't you have floor numbers posted on the elevators or something?"

"My ship is sentient and dimensionally transcendent. Her capacity to expand is limitless." He watched her from the corner of his vision. "Impressed yet?"

She pursed her lips. "Anyone escaped before?"

Innocent curiosity? Or filing information away for some future breakout attempt? "No, and in case you get any ideas, don't try to hide. It's tiring to fetch my servants from the bowels of my ship, and I've been known to lose a few because I can't be bothered."

"You mean no one has ever tried to escape? Ever? The food can't be that great." She pressed a finger to her chin. "Wait, I know. It's the excellent Wi-fi, innit?"

"Actually, it's because of this." He stopped and pulled out a silver-colored bracelet from his pocket. "To the untrained eye, it could be mistaken for jewelry, but it's actually made of an impenetrable metal alloy of my own design." He held it out. "Go on. Put it on."

She wrinkled her nose as though he held Sontaran slime bait. "Um, you're mental if you think I'm gonna put some device concocted by a mad Time Lord on my wrist."

"Is that so?" He heard the quiet patter of footfall approaching behind them—perfect. He rolled the bracelet between his thumb and forefinger and dropped his voice into a lilting cadence, deceptively placating. "Tell me, human, do you know why I'm the last of the Time Lords?"

"No idea," came the clip reply.

"Because I'm clever. I read people and exploit their weaknesses." He slipped his free hand inside his jacket and grasped his laser. The sound of footsteps drew closer. "You don't hesitate to risk your own life, but what happens if I threaten that of another?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "Don't get any crazy ideas. Just hand the thing over, alright? I'll wear your ruddy bracelet."

He handed to her with a smirk. Just as he thought; her humanity was her weakness.

She plucked it from him and snapped it on, then held her arm up. "What's this stupid thing do anyway?"

"What do all shackles do? It keeps you from escaping, of course. Try anything foolish, and you'll get vaporized by ten million volts of unstable neutrino dark energy. Saves me the hassle and mess of dealing with you myself."

She pried her fingers under the gap at her wrist.

He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The girl dropped her arms and scowled, her lips drawn together so tight, lines creased around her mouth. As if she could do a thing about it.

"My Lord," someone said in a soft voice. He turned to find Ayaliah, one of his servants, dipped low. Her long braid hung down the front of a pale blue gown the same shade as her skin. "I trust your venture went well," she said to the floor. "Sikah requests your assistance at your earliest convenience."

Wonderful. Probably lingering interference messing with the shield override in the docking bay. If he didn't tend to it now he'd have shuttles queued outside all the way back to Starfall. "See to it the new addition gets cleaned up and settled in," he said to the woman.

He turned back to the girl. "This is Princess Ayaliah of the eleventh moon of Sideus. She can continue your tour from here. Do everything you are asked, don't touch the weapons on display, and steer clear of the Chula guards. They get testy now and again."

"You mean like Mr. Stink Breath, the lizard?"

"Careful. Chan Coi 'Thet is my most celebrated warrior. He's undefeated in the colosseum, and he doesn't take well to insults."

She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "Does anyone?"

Was it arrogance or ignorance that made this human so brazen? He shot her a dark look, then walked back toward the hangar.

"What about my things?" the girl called. "I need them to get back home!"

He didn't answer. Sooner or later she would have to accept that she wasn't going anywhere.

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><p>An hour later, he thumbed through the features on her communicator in his control room. Basic, save for its ingenious interplanetary long distance hack. He flipped it shut and tossed it to the side, then dangled the dimension hopper under the light of the time rotor. How inelegant. Nothing but a great big yellow button soldered onto a chain. He sliced the device in half with his laser and the yellow plasma inside evaporated in a golden puff. Well, she wouldn't be going anywhere now.<p>

"Time to see what you're made of," he said as he scanned the tiny dimensional stabilizer inside. He docked his screwdriver into the diagnostic panel, then waited until the console beeped. The device fell from his grasp and clattered onto the dash.

Unknown molecular structure? Disruptive Time Energy? Void particles? If the girl was telling the about that darkness, the cause likely sat in front of him.

The latch jiggled behind him. The doors to the console chamber swung open and his new human waltzed in, unannounced. He opened his mouth to scold her but froze, his glasses sliding halfway down his nose.

A gown of lavender silk draped along her front and clasped behind her neck. Tendrils of hair brushed the soft slope of her shoulders, the rest pulled into delicate curls at the top of her head. Her skin glowed, her eyes bright and … annoyed?

"Are you serious with the dress?" She pinched the hem of her skirt as though trying hold it as far from her as possible. "I feel like a walking curtain rod. And these ruddy shoes are not meant to be walked in."

He pushed his glassed back into place. "Lack of manners notwithstanding, your timing is impeccable. Now it's time you talked. Care to tell me what you were doing with this infernal mockery of all that is sane?" He held up the sliced device.

"What have you done?" The girl rushed forward with a tail of billowing fabric. She grabbed the disc and shoved it under his nose. "Put it back!"

"Don't test me you insolent girl." He wrenched it from her hand. "You've messed with technology far beyond you, punching holes in the fabric of time and space at your leisure. You think just because you managed to survive absorbing the time vortex you can do whatever you please without repercussions?"

"You don't understand—"

"You have no idea how much damage you could have done," he continued. "Did it never occur to you that this device could be causing the very peril you were describing?"

But he was no longer her focus. She reached down to the dash and cradled the other half of the device as though it were some wounded animal. "You've severed the power cells." She slanted her dark eyebrows at him. "Tell me you've got more Trinnium."

"What? You mean the plasma I found lurking inside?"

"No, I mean the rare element that's required to make the plasma. Without that exact type of plasma, cyclic recharging is impossible." She shook the device and the chain rattled in his face. "Tell me you have more."

He balked. "What?" There was no denying it; she was more intelligent than he'd presumed.

She moved closer—too close. "Can you replicate it? Synthesize more?"

He stepped back, and then again. Crazed human. "No. It's not a known element in my universe. I can't fabricate it with the TARDIS."

"But can you do it manually?"

He threw up his hands "That would take molecular replication on a subatomic level. It would take weeks to process enough for use."

"Weeks? As in a month?"

"At least three." Why was he even answering the girl? He ought to demand her silence.

She let out a string of curse words. "We don't have that kind of time. The darkness spreads faster than the speed of light. We're not that far ahead of it, a week at best."

"Assuming any of what you say is true."

"Of course it's true," she said with indignation in her tone. "You think I'm just out risking my life every day traveling between realities for kicks and giggles? I've got to go, straight away."

"Well forget it. I'm not giving the likes of you the technology to go gallivanting off from universe to universe. It's tantamount to letting a child play with a particle gun. And this," he said as he held up the other half of the device, "this is a shameful hack to get you between realities. You can't just go ripping holes. You need finesse. You need to delicately protect the web of time. Puncture the holistic structure and the consequences would be catastrophic."

"Then help me do it the right way, your lordship." She tucked her arms into one another and angled her chin upward.

"It's—I mean …" Must he admit that he couldn't? That he had burned the council and their means of parallel travel with them? "No." He pocketed his glasses. "I'm the last Time Lord standing and that makes me the authority on the matter, and you, mademoiselle, are a permanent addition to my fortress."

"What? I'm not a thing to be collected!"

Again with the eyebrows and the slanting. "Nonsense. Of course you are. Why else do you think I left you alive?"

"Why you self-centered, egotistical—"

"My Lord." Sikah's voice rang through the communication panel. "We have cataloged the inventory and await your final inspection."

Ah, blessed release. "Come," he said as he walked. "I'll not leave you in here to fiddle."

Her shoes clunked behind him. "Then let me go. I'm not a historical figure. You've got no reason to keep me."

"I told you, I gather the most exotic art, technology, and people. You are an anomaly. Not even from this universe. No one else in all of history has ever been a goddess before. But you"—He whirled to face her—"you burn like the sun. The rarest of all humans."

He caught one of her curls and traced the curve of it, then brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. Her mouth parted, her breath skimming across his skin, warm and moist. Did he really find her plain before?

She pushed his hand away. "If you think you're gonna use me like some servant you got another thing coming. I don't care what you're the last of."

"You'd do well to rethink that, madam. If you refuse to serve in any capacity that I request of you, then you are of no value to me." He leaned in. "And I don't keep worthless things on my ship."

With that, he left her slack-jawed and silent.


	3. Chapter 3

This story has been rewritten. See chapter one for details.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Rows of tables topped with all manner of objects met him as Victor entered the inventory room: jewelry boxes, sculpted busts, and paintings in gilded frames, furniture, books, and silks.

Sikah bowed, tablet in hand. "My Lord, all shuttles have reported in. We have cataloged all items according to your instruction."

A wooden chest with intricate carvings and a silver latch sat under the table. Victor tipped it over with his foot. "A reproduction." He picked up a bronze figurine and let it fall to the ground with a clank. "Fake as well. Why do the ignoramuses I have for soldiers insist on collecting copies and genuine relics without distinction? And why is it my so-called experts can't tell the difference?"

Sikah shifted in place.

Victor rested against the table and looked out at the piles of less-than-impressive goods. With Gallifrey and her treasures gone, what was left for him now? Was he doomed to spend the rest of his time squashing primitive governments and gathering dusty baubles? Where was the challenge in that?

A red tassel on the table in front of him caught his attention. Attached to it was a blade with an edge cut into the shape of teeth.

"Now this is interesting." He picked it up. "A Terileptilian broadsword, not even from Starfall. Rare indeed. Put it on display somewhere conspicuous. Double check the authenticity on everything else. If I find anything fake on my walls there will be blood to p—"

Pain squeezed his head like a vise. The handle slipped from his grasp and toppled into a pile of fine dishes. Porcelain shattered against the floor. He braced himself on the table and exhaled a stream of energy, flecks of gold dissipating into the air.

Blasted regenerative neural implosions.

Sikah's dark skin turned an ashen light gray. "My Lord?"

He waved him off. "It's nothing."

The shadewalker's slits for irises all but disappeared.

Victor pulled himself to his feet. "I assure you, Sikah, my face may have changed, but trust that I am no less you master that I was before, and no less powerful."

Sikah dipped. "Yes, my Lord."

"Be on guard." He tugged on the edge of his velvet jacket. "Change often brings unrest. Let me know of any chatter, any rumor or doubt. I will deal with any insubordination swiftly and harshly."

Sikah folded his arms behind him. "What of the human girl, my Lord?"

"What of her?"

"Ayaliah told me of her impertinent temperament during your tour earlier." Sikah pulled his tablet out from behind his back. "Will she require extra security? I can assign Thet to—"

"No," he said with more force than he intended. He cleared his throat. "For now, no. I'll deal with her myself."

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><p>A short time later, the tracking locator in his screwdriver led the way as Victor stepped onto one of the upper balconies. The girl lounged against the stone balustrade. Her hair lay limp against her bare back, her toes peeking under the hem of her pale gown. Two galaxies collided in slow motion above her silhouette, swaths of pink and blue smeared across the sky. He could just make out the frozen crests of an ocean gliding underneath the ship.<p>

"Ah," the girl said at the sight of him. "The tour guide returns." She peered over the rail at the waves glittering underneath in the starlight. "Tell me more about this so-called 'rouge planet' you've got us orbiting. How did it freeze?"

He put his screwdriver away and rested his elbows on the banister beside her. "No one knows the real story. Legends on Starfall say the world was infatuated with the sun who gave it warmth and life, but his affections were unrequited. The sun transformed into a galaxy to be with her lover in the sky, but in her haste, she left the world to freeze inside and out. Now no matter how far he flees, the world can't escape the sight of them in love's embrace."

"Life of the party, you are."

"Makes for a great view though." He looked up at the misshapen spiral nebula. "Don't you recognize those stars on the left?"

Her gaze dropped. "No. I'm a long way from home."

"Perhaps not as far as you think. It's almost unrecognizable now that it's in the third stage of collision, but your people use to call it the Milky Way. And that there"—He pointed to the galaxy encircled around it—"that's the Andromeda galaxy it's colliding with, over five billion years after your time."

He waited for awareness and fascination to chase away the melancholy that marred her face. Instead, she fell silent.

A fountain gurgled in the empty courtyard below, casting rippling reflections along the stonework. She watched the patterns that danced along her interlaced hands. "You're not gonna let me go, are you?"

"No."

The girl slouched against the rail and rubbed at her eyes. "As if I don't have enough to worry about."

"Don't act so surprised," he said as he angled toward her. "You offered your mysteries as leverage for your life, and I accepted your offer. Now it's time you paid up."

She propped up her head with exaggerated effort. Her cheek bulged to the side of her fist. "Whadaya you want?"

"Let's start with your name."

"Nope," she said with a pop of the 'p'.

He raised his brow. "That wasn't a suggestion, human. Tell me."

"I. Can't."

How quickly the mood turned. He dropped the tone of his voice in warning. "You will or I will take it from you."

She brought herself to her full height and shook her head at him as though he'd caused her some great disappointment. "What happened to you? How did you come to be this?"

"Wrong response." He advanced with all the commanding presence he could muster, but she didn't budge.

So be it.

He pushed his fingers into her temples and yanked with the full power of his telepathic ability. Moments of her childhood flashed before him in quick succession. Rose, her name was Rose.

She gasped and wobbled to stay upright. "So alone."

He ripped another memory and her teenage years appeared—an idiot boyfriend named Stone and another named Smith.

She fell against him for support in some sort of half-hug, arms tight across his neck. He inhaled the tangy aroma of her hair. Whatever the fragrance, it was worthy of the highest praise.

"Nothing you have ever known has been kind," she said into his ear. "It's no wonder—"

He pilfered another memory and saw the shadowy outline of a man next to a box. She arched her head back and tugged him downward until his lips hovered just under her jaw.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as her body shuddered against him. "You've never known love. I—I can't imagine."

He pulled back, her head cradled in his hands. "What did you say?"

Rose pushed herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Visions inundated his mind—vortex and light and the slow burn of eternity—some sort of telepathic projection. He stumbled back but she held him firm while her fingers twisted in his hair.

A low groan escaped from an inner place he couldn't determine, much less restrain. He relented to her deepening kiss while his hands moved of their own accord along her shoulder blades, down the silken fabric of her gown, and up into her yielding hair to press her closer.

Strange emotion emanated from her, surrounding him in warmth—love. She loved … him? No, she was thinking of another.

He lifted another memory. His own face appeared, bright and handsome with a foreign smile that looked like a permanently-stamped feature.

He jerked back and held her at arm's length.

It all made sense: why she recognized him on Starfall, why she knew so much about his species, why she wasn't surprised by his ship, why she all but threw herself at him. This women knew his parallel counterpart—intimately.

A thought unsettled him. "You saw into my mind, didn't you?"

"Yeah," she said in a breathy voice.

By the Eternals up above … "How?"

"Dunno. It just … happened. I thought you meant it to."

He gripped her shoulders and shook. "Tell me what you saw."

"I saw the Time War. Your parents were killed right in front of you." Moisture welled in her eyes. "You were just a boy."

No. She couldn't have seen—

"Then I saw how they forced you to fight. All those poor orphans. You chose your new name the day you vowed to take down the council."

His chested pounded. "Stop." He'd been compromised, completely compromised.

"It's okay," she said as she reached for him. "I understand now, why you wanted your real name to be kept a secret."

He swatted her hand away. "You know nothing," he said through gritted teeth. "Speak of this to no one." He shoved past her and barreled down the steps.


	4. Chapter 4

This story has been rewritten. See chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Victor slammed his glasses on the dash of the TARDIS console. What had him so … what was an adequate term? Flustered? Bewildered? He'd never lost control like that before. It wasn't like him. Or maybe it was. New body, new rules. Was he prone to weakness now?

No. Post-regenerative mania, had to be. Happened to the best of Time Lords—which he was.

And anyway that was the least of his concerns. He had a glaring vulnerability; the girl knew too much. Telepathic tampering created the mess. Trying to erase her memory could make things worse. And he couldn't just kill her, not without knowing more about this coming threat.

His gaze fell to the dimension hopper lying in two pieces on the console. Then he had to find out as much as he could as fast as possible so he could end this himself. He'd start by finding out the maximum heat capacity of this infernal contraption. He pushed his glasses back in place and pressed his laser onto one of the halves.

The air pressure shifted in his ears as the doors open behind him. He whirled around to see his fiery human push her way into the chamber.

"Look," she said with her nose in the air, "I'm not gonna go and tell all your little friends about what happened. I just wanted to—" She glanced at his laser pressed to the device, then launched herself at him. "What on earth are you doing, you mad Time Lord?" she asked as she pried his fingers apart. "Do that and you could exceed the thermal limit!"

He stared open-mouthed as she stole the device right out of his hand. "I've killed people for less, I'll have you know."

"Yeah? Well suck it up. I'm not letting you jeopardize the universe for the sake of your ego." She lifted the smoking hull and inspected it. "Do you even know what happens when you overload a dimensional stabilizer covered in void stuff? It's not pretty."

He snatched it back. "Don't talk to me of science. You're downright fortunate I haven't ended you. Stop pushing your luck." He pressed the tip of the laser back against the device, but she grabbed his wrist again. Suddenly he felt like a child bickering over a toy as he struggled to yank away.

"Don't! You barmy, psychotic—"

"How dare you! You out-of-control—"

His hand slipped and his laser shot straight into the converter of the dimensional stabilizer. They both froze in mutual realization. A sound rose in pitch as the tiny device shook in his palm. A second later, an alarm blared near the console.

He dropped the sliced dimension hopper onto her hand and ran toward the controls. "Critical energy buildup detected," he read aloud. "Catastrophic implosion imminent. But that's—"

Rose yelped. He looked up as the device spun across the floor, the inner core glowing hot. "Now you've gone and done it," she shouted as she clutched her reddened hand. "You and your laser-powered screw-it-up-royally toy. What on Earth made you slice through the components that inhibit overheating and then heat the darn thing up as high as you could?"

He dashed to the other side of the console. "I've got to isolate the implosion. I could create a time lock or chrono loop—freeze the implosion until I can figure out how to cancel out the effects of the void particles interfering with the reality converter."

"No time. Anyway, I've got a better idea." Rose bent under the dash. A moment later, a loud whooshing sound filled the chamber.

He choked on the sickly smell of concentrated carbon dioxide and wafted the thick white vapor from his face. The alarm stopped.

Rose tossed a bulky CO2 gun to the floor. "Might not be the 'Time Lord way'," she said as she brushed a stray lock from her forehead, "but where I come from, this is how we freeze impending threats."

"A fire-extinguisher? But how'd—"

She shrugged. "Guess I figured they'd be standard on TARDISes. Last time we had a console fire on the Doctor's TARDIS, my quick thinking helped put it out. The Doctor was off trying to calculate who knows what, just like you." She waved toward him as though to prove her point. "And anyway, void stuff doesn't like heat. Cool it off like the nothingness of the void and the excited particles die down."

He dipped the rims of his glasses. "Where did you say you came from again?"

"I didn't." Her posture stiffened, then slowly relaxed. "Powell Estate, London, 21st Century."

"And yet you're standing there talking about void particles and reality field converters as if they're no-never-mind to you, things that even Earth's brightest would have a hard time grasping centuries into your future."

Rose jutted her hip to the side with her hand still attached. "Careful now. That's almost a compliment coming from you."

"Hardly." He swung around to the diagnostic controls and pecked at the scanners. "And anyway," he said in a rush, "if you hadn't so rudely interrupted my experiment, my hand wouldn't have slipped and none of this would have happened in the first place, you stupid girl."

"Oh, is that right? 'Cause I seem to recall warning you about a thermal overload as soon as I stepped in the room."

"Which you then proceeded to cause," he said without looking up. Honestly, she was more trouble than she was worth. A pinch of untethered chaos in his world of uncontested authority and 'will that be all my lord?' Now she knew his greatest secret. Perhaps it was time to rectify the situation permanently before it went any further.

"I'm not as clueless as you think I am, you know," she almost whispered.

He turned to find her right next to him, peering up at him with those honey-brown eyes of hers. And there was that maddening fragrance again, exotic with a touch of sweet. His gaze flitted to her mouth. Her plump lips still glistened from that kiss, the bottom one slightly more swollen than the top.

Maybe he could endure her unruliness for a bit longer—just a bit.

"We already know where the problem is," she said. "We measured the timelines and traced the source back to my original universe. If we can just get back there and warn the Doctor, he can stop it. Problem is, all the surrounding universes have been devoured, and the greater the distance, the more power is needed. The cannon takes hours to recharge. At this point, we're not sure we can get enough power to get all the way back."

"Is that all? Coat the plasmic shell with enough dwarf-star alloy and you can boost the power and cut your charging cycle down to half an hour."

Her lips spread until her teeth shined, wiping his mind of all thought. "You're brilliant," she said, "but I knew you would be. 'Cause you're like him. That's why I stayed, you know. I was hoping you'd help me."

He shook his head into functioning cognizance and moved around her. "Oh, I have no intention of helping you, Rose. Like I said, the chances of catastrophic failure are simply too high. If nothing else, this whole debacle ought to prove that."

"But you just—"

"I simply explained how to overcome your problem." He flipped the closest notch he could find. "Never said I'd actually do it."

"Hang on, you know my name."

"Course I do." He tapped at a gauge. "I saw into your mind."

Her left hand rested on his black sleeve. "Please be careful with it. I'm not supposed to be here. Any events I get tangled in could significantly alter the course of history for you and your universe."

He dropped his attention to the unsolicited contact, then looked up at her. "Rose, I'm a Time Lord. I know what I'm doing. You don't."

"Actually, I can do this by myself if I have to." She crossed her arms. "You just watch."

He folded his glasses and tucked them away. "And just how do you intend on doing that?"

"I'll find a way. I always do. But if you know what's good for you, you'll give me a hand 'cause with each day I waste here, the task becomes more impossible."

"Rose, by your own admission you can't do this. Impossible infers absolute failure, no viable solutions, nothing but the same inevitable conclusion."

"But you said it yourself, I'm an anomaly. I created myself to protect the chain of events. There's no way I could have seen the darkness and just let it happen. That's why I know I'm gonna get back to the Doctor. I don't know how or when, but I've got to 'cause I'm the only chance he has."

"It's never going to happen." He leaned in with a sneer. "You're not getting back to him, so just forget it."

"You can't honestly think I'm gonna stand back and do nothing."

He pushed his thumb into his chest. "You're not fooling me into helping you get back to your boyfriend."

"But you saw in my head. Why would I lie about something like this? If you don't act now, you and every one of your stupid trophies are gonna vanish into nothingness."

Vanish? His gaze fell to his distorted reflection staring back at him in the glass pump of the time rotor. Yes, he had seen her mind, and she was without doubt a reckless creature—but an honest one. Therefore, this darkness had to be real too.

Rose placed her hand back on the bend of his arm. "Help me," she said with unwarranted softness in her voice. "'Cause much as I hate to admit it, you are more clever than me. And I need you."

He ground his teeth. What choice did he have?

He pointed at her. "Let's get one thing straight, if I do this"—She donned a triumphant smile—"I said if, then it's not to help you get back. It's to stop this darkness for myself. And I don't need your precious Doctor."

Her grin didn't diminish.

No objections? He held her gaze while she swayed on her heels, arms tucked behind her. Shenanigans. She better not spring it on him at the final hour.

He swiveled the monitor toward him and began to type. "As it so happens, you're looking at the universe's top scientist. Just need to calculate a few things."

Rose sprang next to him, then rested her chin on his shoulder and peered down at the screen.

His head swirled with the ambrosial scent of her hair. "Y—your presence is not required, Rose."

"I know." Without so much as a glance for permission, she sat herself down in his captain's chair and swung her legs over the side. "But you could use another pair of hands, and I'm smarter than I look, honest."

He regarded the girl slouched in his seat, bare feet kicked up on the hand-woven, fifth-century Gnosian fabric. Did he like servants in his console room? Particularly loud-mouthed, distracting servants? No. But while he could order anyone to help, none of them already knew the intricacies of the element that needed to be synthesized.

"Fine," he muttered as he pulled out his screwdriver. "Let me see that burn. Not much as a second pair of hands if you can't use one, now are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

This story has been rewritten. See chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

The next day, Victor hunched over the line of tabletop reactors that had sprung up in his control room, carefully twisting the metal knob of one of the temperature controls. A guttural sound ripped through the air behind him and he jerked the knob too far to the right. He cursed, rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and turned.

Rose lay contorted in his chair, all arms and elbows. Under her head she'd wadded up the long train of the golden gown she'd changed into earlier, her face hidden by a mane of wild blonde curls.

He cocked his head to the side. How on Gallifrey did she manage to fall asleep like that? And how could anyone, much less someone of her small stature, make such an unholy noise?

She let out another snore, deep and ragged like a beast being strangled. He'd be lucky to hear his own thoughts above such racket. Next time she tried to stay up all night to help, the answer would be a resounding no.

He leaned down and twisted the dial back with his forefinger and thumb. And what of this 'darkness' she kept on about? Rose said it originated in her universe. That couldn't be coincidence. What if reaching the source of this destruction offered no solutions? A fixed point dooming everything?

He stared at the white roundels along the dome of his control room. Then he wasn't going down without a fight.

"Oi!"

He jumped at Rose's sudden appearance to his left, her hair still matted to one side of her forehead.

"Mind the reactor on the end." She extricated a smoking tube with a pair of tongs and set it in a holding stand, then smoothed her bangs off to the side. "You alright there, mate?"

The smell of metal doused with smoke flavor stung his nose. "Fine."

Rose leaned in to examine the beaker, the gauzy outer-layer of her strapless gown shimmering as she moved. "The second batch is already falling behind. We need to switch to constant current instead of constant potential."

He nudged his glasses higher on his nose. "But what about interference from redox reactions? I hardly think—"

"Look, I know you're all about efficiency, but we don't have time for that. A week, tops, that's how long we've got. Constant current will cut our time by a third."

"Or," he said, "we could use better technology like I suggested in the beginning. Your grade-school chemistry set is hardly the best way to do it. And look at these wires all over my control room. I can barely walk."

"Well, we don't have time for me to learn your fancy equipment, now do we?" She maneuvered around him and tweaked the dial on the reactor he'd just reset. "We do this phase my way, and you can use the TARDIS for particle fusion next."

"Your way?" He scoffed. "I think you're confused as to whose ship you're on."

"Look, we can quarrel all day or we can save the universe. Which do you prefer?"

He waved to the side. "By all means, go right ahead. I prefer the darkness to your constant blathering anyway. The quicker it comes, the faster I'll be out of my misery."

She opened her mouth but paused, a trace of a smirk on her face. "Do I detect an undercurrent of humor in that insult?"

"Just do your job."

She grinned as she bent to adjust the last of the tabletop reactors. "Knew you weren't as uptight as you pretend to be."

He ignored her as he snatched a beaker off the table and scanned it. "This mess has completely disrupted my plans. At this rate, I'll never get back on schedule. "

"Something else you need to do?"

"If you must know, I was thinking of paying Junnis-Clave a visit."

"Never heard of it."

Not surprising. Even as a guest on his parallel counterpart's TARDIS, she couldn't have possibly visited every planet there ever was. "It's on the edge of the Centaurus Galaxy."

She fell into his chair. "And by 'visit' you mean …"

"Destroy of course."

"Ah." She nodded. "Why's that?"

"Why not?" He raked his laser across another beaker. "They claim they have achieved nirvana through computer-enhanced telepathy, but they haven't ascended on any meaningful level. They're simply inducing a mental high with electric impulses."

She looked at him as if he's just spoken a foreign language. "So?"

"Don't you see? They're impairing their cognitive function and calling it enlightenment. Such arrogance, such ignorance. I'd be doing the universe a favor, honestly."

"Nah," Rose said as she leaned forward onto her elbows. "Why bother? This universe is old hat by now. Get the dimension cannon rebuilt and you can spread your influence throughout a new universe, completely untouched. You could stare down your true equal—two Time Lords, last of their kind, battle to end all battles."

He crossed his arms. "What makes you think I won't cross over just to end him and keep you for myself?"

"Why naturally you'd try." She flipped her hair off her bare shoulder. "I mean I am rather marvelous? Who wouldn't battle across the cosmos for the best lab assistant in all of creation?"

The corner of his mouth hooked upward against his will. "And you have the audacity to scold me for my ego. Who has the big head now?"

"Hey, you said it yourself. You only take the best." Her pink tongue peeked out from between her teeth.

He couldn't stop the chuckle that billowed up and out of his chest. He scooted onto the edge of the table. "Tell me about this alternate me. What makes him so special?"

Rose traced the patterns on the back of her bracelet. "Ah, well it's all about the screwdriver, you see. He uses sonic." She gazed up at him from under those dark lashes of hers, smothered in mascara. "Sonic screwdrivers are so impressive."

Such blatant innuendo. He was on his feet before he think. "And laser screwdrivers aren't, is that what I'm getting here?"

"You said it, not me."

He put on his most charming smile and strutted toward her. "I'll have you know my screwdriver could out-power a sonic device a million fold."

Rose glanced at her nails. "But see, it's not about the raw power. It's about skill, about using your wit rather than your brawn."

"Oh, is that right?" he said an octave lower. An electric hum crackled the air as he neared. He had half a mind to accept her overt challenge and let the reactors fry. What were a few secrets worth anyway? And wouldn't it be worth the cost to uncover a few more of hers?

The reactor at the end let out a shrilly ding. Rose slid off the chair and brushed past him. "Better get back to work. These won't sort themselves, after all."

Was that it? Wind him up with wanton flirting and then flip back to business as usual? What went on in that impossible brain of hers?

Ah, but humor wasn't just good fun for her, was it? It was deflection; it was defense. Just what was she protecting?

Maybe she encouraged him to channel his energies into trans-universal conquest so he would be too engrossed to do anyone harm, but what did she hope to accomplish once he'd succeeded in crossing over? Because if she thought he was beyond ending her lover, she was mistaken. He had no intention of letting that Doctor live past his usefulness. "Tell me Rose, what do you really think I'm going to do once the plasma is synthesized?"

She shifted on her bare feet as if considering for a moment. "I think you're gonna do the right thing and let me save the universe."

Such wasted sentiments. "You're projecting your Doctor's qualities onto me. Maybe that's what he'd do, but the truth is, I'm not him. I'm nothing like him."

"I don't think that's true."

"What makes you say that?"

"I saw in your head. You're just lonely. I don't think you really want to do all those bad things."

As if reducing actions into classifications like 'good' or 'bad' held any measurable scientific significance. "In case you haven't noticed all the servants around, I'm hardly alone."

"Yeah, but that's not the same. You force people to interact with you 'cause you haven't got a friend in the universe. Well, except me."

"You … you consider me a friend? Your captor?"

She blew out a breath and shrugged. "Yeah. You're not a bad bloke when you're not off in one of your moods trying to prove a point. You're actually kinda fun to hang around."

Surely she had some ulterior motive. No one wanted to be around him just for the sake of it. But then she grinned that grin of hers, so wide and free and he had his answer, insane though it was. Warmth spread across his palms and flushed at his ears, as though his biological functions had short-circuited.

She wiggled the empty tube back in place inside the reactor, then pulled off her gloves. A streak of red ran down the underside of her forearm.

He grabbed her wrist. "What's this?"

She blinked, then tugged herself free. "I just went for a couple of rounds at the sparring arena this morning, sheesh."

No wonder she took so long to get ready. "With all the wonders on my ship, why there? Don't you have any idea how dangerous it is?"

"All that glitter and glass, it's just not me. Sometimes a girl just wants to wear pants and vent her frustrations out. Look, I just been sparring, no real matches or anything. Plus, I think they're all scared to hurt me with them thinking I'm some sort of mistress to you. They all seem to be under the impression that you're sweet on me."

What? How could his servants think him compromised? He gave one simple tour. Unless … Was their exchange on the balcony the night before less private than he realized? "Rose, I forbid you to spar."

"What? Why?"

"I don't have to have a reason." He tucked his arms into one another. "My word is law."

"Someone's in one of his moods. Let me guess, you haven't eaten all day, have you?"

He thought back. "Well, no, but—"

"Right. I think I know what the problem is." She pulled him toward the double doors. "Come on. In my experience, there's only one thing that can help a cranky Time Lord."

* * *

><p>The sounds of chatter and chinking glass quieted as they entered the dining hall. Even the live music decrescendoed. Everyone at the tables hunched over their food, eyes down—all except for Sikah seated in the back. A crease extended down the length of his servant's forehead, then he stood and left the room.<p>

"Blimey," Rose said. "It's like a different place when you're here, innit?"

Victor suddenly felt aware of the warmth of her arm looped around his. Perhaps escorting her wasn't the best strategy, not with rumors about. Who could have started such rumors anyway? Could it have been the shadewalker himself watching in the shadows last night? And why didn't anyone bring him breakfast? Did they think that Rose and he …

A petite server bowed and led them to his designated table. A low chandelier scattered splinters of light along the dinnerware. As he sat, he spotted a familiar red tassel behind a glass case on the wall. Good, the broadsword from Starfall had found a home.

The server struggled to open a wine bottle, her ruddy skin whitening at the knuckles. With a loud pop, she twisted off the cork. She poured for them both, the color returning to her bony cheeks, then bowed again and left.

Rose tapped her nails against her crystal flute. "Don't you ever get tired of having everyone be afraid of you?"

He sipped his drink. "Not at all."

"Hmph." She stared just over his shoulder. "What's with all the weapons?"

"Like I said, if it's the best, I have it."

"But they don't do anything up there. All they do is sit."

He readjusted himself in his seat. "Yes, well some things are meant to be enjoyed from afar."

Rose gave him that you-mad-time-lord look again. "Why not just let people keep their things if you don't even use them?"

A commotion at the entrance stopped the music. Ayaliah stumbled into the chamber, Chan Coi 'Thet behind her. Sikah hurried past them both.

"My Lord," Sikah said in a hushed tone, "you ordered me to alert you at the first sign of rumor or doubt. Princesss Ayaliah has spread gossip that you cannot be Victor, that you have deceived us all, and that you and the girl are working in collusion to take his place."

What madness was this? He glared at Ayaliah's form stretched in front of him, her palms flat against the marble tile. "Explain yourself!"

Her pale blue arms shook under her weight. "I did no such thing, my Lord," she said to the floor. "I only stated what I saw."

Something told him he'd found his servant in the shadows. "Which was?"

"The girl, my Lord, she spoke with such boldness in the atrium, and yet you did not scold her. Then I saw you together on the balcony—"

Heat flared across his scalp, spreading to the tips of his ears. "You dare spy on your Master?"

"I—I was tasked with caring for the girl. I meant no disrespect, my Lord. I did not wish to disturb you."

"What did you tell the others?" he shouted.

She flinched. "Only that it was curious you changed a day before the girl arrived, a girl whom with you shared a passionate kiss and kept in your control room all night. And that Victor is not your true name. I didn't make the conclusions that Sikah has claimed, I swear. I only told them what I saw. Others made their own conclusions."

He looked out at the room. Servants watched the scene, but dared not look him in the eye. "And now they take me for an imposter." His chair scraped against the floor as he stood. Several people jumped. "If I weren't the same man, how would I know that I stole you from the arms of your guard? That you didn't shed one tear when I killed your fiance, your king-to-be, but that you begged me not to harm your secret lover?" He thrust a finger toward the crowd. "Tell them whether or not this is true."

She trembled, nodded, and buried her face in her hands. "It is."

He broadened his stance and spoke to the room. "I am the same man, now and forever. I am the Time Lord Victorious!" He glanced down at the figure cowered on the floor. "And you, princess, have voided our arrangement."

Ayaliah either shook her head or trembled. "No, no I beg of you. He had no part in this. Please!"

"Let's see how the Sideus System fares against the destroyer of worlds."

The woman grabbed at his feet, but Chan Coi 'Thet yanked her back by her long braid, a sneer on his maw. She sobbed. "K-kill me instead! P-please, let my people b-be."

"You are hereby sentenced to the colosseum. Sikah, prepare the fleet."

Ayaliah wailed as 'Thet dragged her across the floor, too emotional to even stand. Pathetic.

"Stop," Rose said.

Gasps multiplied around the hall. 'Thet halted. Ayaliah whimpered into the floor.

He unleashed a glare that could have unraveled empires. "Don't," he said to Rose. With one word, he offered her more mercy than he'd ever granted before, and those watching knew it.

Rose frowned. She stood and the hem of her golden gown spilled to the floor. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I do. And if you value your life, you won't interfere. You'll be granted no further abeyance." He felt the weight of his laser against his chest, a heaviness not there before.

Rose took two steps forward, that steady gaze of hers somehow pushing and pulling in equal measure."You don't have to make an example of her. We all know what you're capable of."

His hand twitched, but refused to act. "And what of bowing to the request of my consort? How would that look for my authority?"

"Consort?" Her brow wrinkled. "Is that what you think of me?"

From the corners of his vision, he could see that his servants had regained their ability to stare at him; they waited for his reply as surely as Rose—waited to see if the rumors were true. "Yes, nothing more." Even as the words formed, something in the back of his mind hissed 'liar'.

No, they hadn't slept together, but the damage was done. Image was everything. A consort he could have. A lover, no.

He strutted forward and reached for his screwdriver, chin in the air. "But if Ayaliah seeks death and you wish to grant her request"—a beam shattered the glass case and he pulled the Terileptilian sword from the mount on the wall—"then you be her harbinger of relief. Kill her yourself and I will spare her world. Show us just how merciful you are." He extended the handle. "Weren't you just complaining my weapons weren't getting enough use?"

Rose took the sword from his grasp and wielded it, threads of deep red dangling at her wrist. She considered for a moment, then her mouth stretched into a grin more cunning than sweet. "I have a better idea. A proposal, Time Lord."

He narrowed his eyes. "You have nothing to offer me that isn't already mine."

"Is that so?" Rose sauntered to the side, her golden train dragging behind her like trailing vortex energy. "Well, if I mean nothing to you, then you should have no problem if I wager my life on behalf of Ayaliah's in the colosseum. By your own laws, it's the only place a life may be traded for another." She raised the weapon to the throat of the proud Chula warrior who stood over the prone woman. "Put me in the ring with this one tonight."

Chan Coi 'Thet gritted his jagged teeth and let out a low growl, but Rose stood unfazed.

"If I best him," Rose said, "then Ayaliah is granted full pardon and sent home. Her world is spared, no gotchas. If I lose …" She shrugged and hoisted the sword over her shoulder. "Well then, you'll be rid of that pesky consort who dared challenge your authority and you'll get a marvelous show. Two for one. I've heard how much you enjoy blood."

"If you recall," he said with a sidelong glare, "you are forbidden from engaging in such activities."

"Actually, you said I couldn't spar. You said nothing about challenging."

He clapped his teeth shut. "You're no match for him. You'd be slaughtered."

"My problem." She rested the tip of the sword against the floor, hands perched atop the handle.

Idiot girl. If he denied her this fight, he would be forced to make an example of her and vaporize her right then and there. If he allowed her the match, she stood no chance. Either way, Rose was dead.

His stomach coiled in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. "Fine!" he shouted as he stormed from the hall. "And when you get butchered, be it on your own head."


	6. Chapter 6

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter <strong>**6**

Beakers careened across the room but did not satisfy. Victor grabbed the work table and heaved. Everything tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.

How did a mere human best him—standing there, making him look like an utter fool before his subjects? He ought to have killed her right then, but the girl commandeered his physiological responses like some rampant infection.

Why did she volunteer herself? Didn't she know she and Ayaliah were both dead now? Or was this some twisted way to punish him for calling her his consort? What about her swooning heart so desperate to get back to her lost love? Or her noble quest to save the universe? Was she that determined to show him up that she'd sacrifice herself to do it?

Shards crunched under his shoes. His gaze fell to the tangle of wire and jumbled equipment. What did it matter? Was this no less than she deserved? Fretting over a servant was hardly a worthwhile use of his time.

And this was his way out. Let her die in the arena and he'd prove to everyone that she was nothing to him. His credibility would be restored. Let her die and the only one with the potential to exert power over his timeline would be gone; his name would be kept secret. He could figure out this darkness matter himself.

This fixed everything … didn't it? Then why did he feel so … so …

He ground his teeth and stomped from the room.

* * *

><p>The salty stench of sweat hung in the air as Victor descended the stairs into the sparring area. Several mats spread over the floor of the massive circular room. Benches lined the perimeter of each mini-arena.<p>

Rose stood with her back to him while she attacked a post with a rapier instead of an opponent—another technicality she'd use to excuse her behavior, no doubt. She'd traded her gown for light-colored trousers and protective padding. As if such flimsy armor could save her from the teeth and talons of 'Thet.

The sound of clanging metal subsided as the competitors took notice. He jerked his head and they dropped their gear and hurried out.

It only took a moment for Rose to realize the room had gone quiet. She spun around and pulled off her helmet with a flick of her neck. Waves of yellow tresses tumbled out, wayward strands matted to the sides of her face.

"Why?" he shouted. "Why do this?"

"Why not?" She hiked up her helmet under her arm.

"Is this some petty vendetta of yours? Some way to make me angry?"

"What? No." Rose tossed her helmet and sword to the floor. "I'm doing this 'cause it's the right thing to do. I'm not letting someone else die 'cause I decided on a whim to snog someone."

There she went again with her 'right' and 'wrong' and 'good' and 'bad'. He should have known it was her humanity that drove her to such stupidity. "And what of the darkness and your original task, hm? What happens when you lose?"

She wiped her forehead. "Then you'll stop it for me."

"That it then? You don't care in the least that you're going to die?"

Rose didn't answer.

"How can you just stand there?" His nails bit into his palms. "You're the most frustrating, foolish, backwards being I have ever encountered!"

She huffed and placed a hand on her hip. "Oi! It's not my fault you've got barbaric rules in this ruddy place."

"You brought this upon yourself! The colosseum rules were never meant to apply to one of your classifi—"

"But that's just it. You keep classifying us and tagging us like we're things, but we're not toys. We're people. And the rules are just a symptom of a bigger problem."

The red clouded the corners of his vision as the beginnings of a neural implosion stabbed at his temples. "And what's that, exactly?"

Her expression softened and she closed the space between them. "You are amazing. There's nothing you can't do. And if you wanted to stop this, you could. One word, and this all ends. 'Cause it shouldn't be cold-hearted rules and gotchas that allow for a woman to see her loved ones again. That oughta come from here." Her hands rested on both his hearts. "Don't you get it? The only thing standing in your way is yourself."

His anger drained as though she'd yanked the cord to his power supply. He swallowed. "I can't save you from this, Rose."

"I never asked you to." She cupped his face and brushed her thumb along the stubble of his jaw. "'Cause I'm not the one who needs saving."

He ought to push her hand away, but he didn't. "This isn't what I wanted." As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. Liability or not, he wanted her to live.

"I know." She dropped her hand. "And I'm sorry it's gotta be this way. I can't promise you that I won't stop trying to help people if I survive. It's just who I am." She stepped around him. "Gotta go. Need some rest before the match."

He spun to call to her, but half a second later, her blonde hair disappeared up the steps.

* * *

><p>One by one, Victor placed the tubes back inside the cooler unit on the lab table. It had taken hours to restore the room after his tantrum. Menial work, granted, but better than watching a mismatched slaughter-fest.<p>

Each passing second drummed in his head like some final countdown. He tugged off his gloves and pinched the bridge of his nose. How did this happen? The Lord of Time, reduced to nothing but a glorified clock.

Three knocks sounded against the door. The table jostled against his hip, tubes tinkling against one another. His stomach overturned.

Rose never knocked.

That heaviness returned, bearing down on him with each step toward the double doors. He gripped the knobs and pulled them back.

Sikah held out a tray and bowed. "Your scheduled sustenance, my Lord."

A long breath hissed through Victor's teeth as he leaned into the door frame for support. By the Eternals, he thought …

Then there was still time.

His legs propelled him past a bewildered Sikah and down the corridor. Rose was right; he could stop this. Let the consequences fall where they may.

Few servants roamed the halls. Most of them were probably in the audience at that very moment, chanting for her blood.

By Rassilon!

He ran through the grand archway and darted to the left. Excited chatter spilled through the open stairwells as he sprinted up the graded perimeter of the colosseum. Air burned in his lungs. He rounded the next level, then the next. The heavy doors clanged against the wall as he barreled into the officiator's box.

"Stop the match!" he shouted to a room full of shocked servants.

An obese officiator in decadent robes blanched, his deep blue skin turning a sickly purple. "My apologies, my Lord, but the match has just ended. The winner has already been declared."

Everything around him decelerated, then stopped. He was too late; Rose was gone.

An inner discomfort spread to his lungs and clenched. His breath came out a ragged wheeze. Pain? Perhaps he was more attached to that nettlesome little flower than he realized, thorns and all.

"My Lord," someone said behind him.

Victor spun around.

The plump man waved to his left and stepped to the side."I present the victorious one."

Rose.

Bits of shredded armor clung to her at odd angles, her left eye swollen shut, but by the stars, she was alive.

In three strides, Victor crossed the room. He caught himself and forced his hands into fists down by his sides. "Are you damaged?" he asked as impartially as he could manage.

"You say that like I'm a piece of furniture, but I'm fine, thanks." She rubbed at her right shoulder which hung lower than the other. "He was just toying with me anyway. If he thought I was a real threat he would have never let it go on so long. He won't be making that mistake again any time soon."

"You didn't end him?"

Rose put on that smug smile she used when she thought she knew something he didn't. "What would be the point of that? After all, the terms were specific. The agreement was that if I bested 'Thet Ayaliah goes free. I said nothing about killing him."

He scoffed. She'd slipped one right past him—again. "Come. Let's see to your injuries."

"Wait." Rose limped forward and slung her good arm across the other. "Not until you honor our bargain."

"Your shoulder is dislocated. You need medical atten—"

"I'll be fine," she said through her gritted teeth. She peered down at the arena, her brows drawn together.

He followed her line of vision and saw Ayaliah chained to a post at the back of the fighting area. The woman stood at the sight of him and grabbed hold of the post with shaking hands. 'Thet was nowhere to be seen. Probably off nursing his ego and plotting his revenge.

The audience quieted and looked up at him in expectation.

He cursed under his breath. Never would he have agreed to Rose's terms if he thought she'd succeed. No slave had ever been freed. Now he could either honor the agreement, or demean his own authority by going back on his word. Either outcome would irreparably damage his reputation.

* * *

><p>"You should have let me tend this an hour ago," Victor said he raked the light of the screwdriver across the purple blotch that had formed along Rose's left eye socket. "You'd be healed by now."<p>

Rose grimaced and adjusted her position on the edge of the console. "You know why I couldn't."

"Because you're a stubborn human with a proclivity for living dangerously?" He traced the outline of her bruise with this thumb.

She winced. "I had to be sure you were really gonna do it."

"Well don't expect me to fall for that again." His screwdriver hummed once more. "That was a one time thing."

Rose placed her fingertips along the back of his wrist and he stopped the beam. "Why didn't you come?" she asked. "According to the others, you never miss a high-stakes match."

He pulled his hand out from hers and fiddled with the settings on his screwdriver. "I had business to attend."

"You were worried." Half of her mouth curved into a smile. "Bit humany of you, don't you think?"

"Humany?" He slipped his laser into his pocket. "I don't like my things getting broken, Rose. Certainly not a rarity like you."

"Yeah, right_._" She leaned back against the center column and dangled her feet like some school girl in an over-sized chair.

He circled around the console and flipped a random notch on the mechanical panel. "And how did you survive anyway?" he asked without bothering to mask his irritation. "You should be in pieces."

"Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence."

"I'm serious, Rose."

She pulled a stray strand of hair out of her face. "It's simple. He was counting on the standard approach, so I waited until the right moment and surprised him."

"Surprised him how?"

"Let's just say I used my wit instead of my brawn."

"Fine, don't tell me. But never do anything like that again." He pointed at her. "You're not to set foot in the sparring area or the colosseum. No caveats."

"Thanks, by the way."

He blinked, his hand still in mid-air. "For what?"

"For doing the right thing. For letting Ayaliah go."

That again? "It wasn't about right or wrong. I didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice." Rose slid to her feet and caught him around the middle. He stiffened but she pulled him closer. "I know you tried to stop the match," she said into his shoulder. "Thanks for that too." Warmth pressed against his cheek, then she pulled away.

He tottered in place while the double doors clicked shut behind him. What just happened?

Rose Tyler—half the time he didn't know whether to feel pleased or outraged at her crazy antics. Perhaps at the end of a very long day, he should just be content to have her alive.


	7. Chapter 7

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter <strong>**7**

The lid of the tabletop reactor squelched as it sealed shut. He thumped his fingers against the table. Things were getting out of hand. On top of the darkness, people were starting to doubt him, he had a vengeful Chula on the prowl, and if he didn't put a stop to Rose's insolence, she'd go and off herself in some other careless endeavor soon enough. And how long did it take for a human to sleep anyhow? It was nearly midday.

He walked to the console and tapped the comm. "Sikah, wake Rose. Escort her to the veranda for brunch at once, and keep out of 'Thet's way. I don't want any more unexpected duels." Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the doors.

Pale light filtered through ruffled clouds as he made his way down the stairs toward his private overlook. He paused at the sight of two ornate chairs nestled against a cast-metal table that had been painted white. Breakfast had already been set. A vase topped the vignette, filled with exotic flowers that smelled from feet away.

How'd they do that so fast? And where had his usual table gone?

Wait—everyone was under the impression he had a consort. This must be someone's premeditated idea of a romantic setting. He slid his hands down the sides of his face. Wonderful. How long would he have to keep up this ridiculous illusion?

"I see you finally moved the ship," someone said from behind him.

He turned.

Rose walked toward him in a plain, silk blue nightgown, no limp in sight.

Behind her, Sikah bowed but did not move from beyond the foot of the stone staircase. Instead, he swiveled to give them some semblance of privacy, folded his arms behind him, and waited to be commanded.

Rose let out a long yawn, half over before she stifled it. "Do you know what it's like to be woken up by two disembodied eyes? Yanking me out of bed and giving me the scare of my life …. Hope you don't mind me au naturel."

"You look entirely presentable." He pulled out a chair for himself. "I see you've made a full recovery. And anyway, I've given you ample time to rest. You've slept away the entire morning."

"Pfft," she said as she collapsed into his seat. "'Morning' is a relative term on a ship like this and you ruddy well know it, you impatient Time Lord."

He aimed a tread-lightly expression her direction as he sat across from her, but Rose armed herself with her most distracting smile—tongue between her teeth, brows angled downward like some sly minx. He pressed his lips together to keep the edge of his mouth from turning up, but failed.

She drank to her small victory, draining her glass, and then let out a puff of air. "I think you just couldn't wait through the night to see me again."

"Well that's just—That's not …" His cheeks flushed.

"Oh, would you look at that? King of the castle, turning all red."

"Don't," he said with a point. "I can summon anyone whenever I very well please. It's hardly inferential."

"You know what I think? I think under that stern exterior, you're nothing but a great, big softie." She leaned in and poked him in the chest.

He brushed her hand away. "Please."

"No, really. What you did last night, letting Ayaliah go, that was very big of you. And you were so worried about me. It was kinda sweet."

"Sweet? Rose, you've got it all wrong."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"Yes," he muttered into his glass. "Don't know how half of those mad ideas end up in that head of yours."

She twisted her mouth to the side and he could almost hear the unspoken insults—all of them of the 'Time Lord ego' variety. "Fine then," she said after a moment. "Let's hear your version of it."

He set his wine on the table. "No. I didn't summon you here to discuss such nonsense."

"Yep," she said with a pop of the 'p'. "That cinches it. Great, big softie. Too afraid to admit that he's not an emotionless robot after all."

He sighed. Was it mad to try to reign her in? Did he even want to? Rose was so intriguing because of her uninhibited nature. And as often as he wanted to strangle her, she also made him laugh.

Rose propped herself up on her elbows, her fists tucked under her chin. Even without makeup her face glowed with that ever-present enthusiasm. "Well, go on then. Whatcha wake me up for?"

"I …" Was he ready to extinguish that spark? Everything that made her so very Rose?

No. Not yet.

He sat up in his chair. "First off, you're to steer clear of Chan Coi 'Thet. To his species, there could be no greater dishonor than being bested by a female human."

She swirled her spoon in her bowl with a less-than-amused expression.

"This isn't a game, Rose. It is not beyond him to attack you against my wishes and I don't want that to happen."

"That it, then?" She sniffed the murky liquid and wrinkled her nose.

"Not entirely, no. The colosseum rules have changed."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I can't have servants fighting for each other's freedom, can I?" He tested his own soup. Earthy flavors overpowered his tongue. "The place would be c—" he coughed and cleared his throat "—chaos."

"Why not? They just want to go home and see their families and loved ones again."

"But I've given them everything they could ever need. The best medical care, the best clothes, food, and entertainment. The best technology and education. They would never have such luxuries in their respective times."

"You think they would rather have all of that than their loved ones? Seriously?" Her spoon plopped into her bowl. She pressed her fingertips together and leaned toward him. "Have you ever been around someone who makes your heart race and your palms sweaty? Someone you can't stop thinking about even if you try? And you find that all you want is to be in that person's company?"

He froze in mid-sip. Without warning, his stomach pitched backward. Perhaps it was the food. Yes, must be. He lowered his glass and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"And then imagine," she continued, "imagine that person you care for is ripped from you, and you'll never see that person again. Imagine the pain."

Memories of the night before flooded back—the anxiety of losing her, the ache in his chest when he thought she'd died. Suddenly he understood their puzzling reluctance to serve aboard his palace.

Did that mean he … cared?

"Have you ever been in love, Victor?"

He jerked his head up.

Rose twisted a lock of hair around her finger. In the distance, Sikah angled his bald, grey head to the side a centimeter.

He swallowed the lingering spice lodged in his throat. "No."

"Oh, just forget it then." She fell back against her chair and let out a drawn-out sigh.

He glanced at her untouched bowl. "Something the matter with the soup?"

"Calling it soup implies the stuff is edible."

His mouth tightened, but he allowed himself a slight closed-lip smile. "Well, it is an acquired taste."

Rose rested her face in her palm. "Can I ask you something?"

His attention drifted to the mesmerizing way she nibbled the edge of her pinky nail as she spoke. "Hm?"

"Do you ever think about just getting out there and seeing the stars just for fun? No conquering or anything? Just quietly walk among everyday people, get a bite to eat kind of thing?"

"Why would I want to? I've got everything I could possibly want right here."

"Seriously? You've got a time machine and you've never just gone sight-seeing?" She dropped her arm to the table. "You don't know what you're missing. You haven't lived until you've had chips from a 20th century London street vendor, wrapped in newspaper and all greasy. They're totally bad for you and yet so good."

He looked at his own bowl. Bits of unidentified spice floated along the top of his broth. "Alright, then. I could do with a bit of sightseeing." He tossed his napkin onto the table. "Let's go."

Her eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Why not? I'd like to see how these chips hold up to your fanfare."

"You won't be disappointed." She sprang from her seat, paused for a moment, and then thrust her arm in front of his face. Silver gleamed at her wrist. "Almost forgot. Can't leave the ship without being vaporized, right?"

What if she tried to escape? Would she dare?

"Oh, come off it," Rose said as though reading his mind. "I'm not gonna leave you. On my honor." She crossed her hand over her breast.

This better not backfire on him. He dug out his laser and ran the red light along the metal band. It clicked open into his hand.

Behind her, Sikah no longer stood at-the-ready, but gawked. He caught himself and resumed his polite look-at-something-else stare toward the horizon.

Just what he needed—another reason for his servants to doubt him. But what did it matter what Sikah thought? After Ayaliah's close brush with death, he knew not to go blabbering about things he shouldn't.

Rose didn't notice. Instead, she stared down her front. "Hold on, can I change? I won't exactly fit in like this."

His gaze followed the path of her hands as she ran them down to her hips and back up. "Hm? Yes, fine. I'll have Sikah return your old clothes." He snapped his fingers. Sikah bowed low, his dark tunic bunching at the belt, then he glided up the stairs. He better not do anything foolish.

"And," Rose said with a tone of voice that verged on presumptuous, "you could stand to put a perception filter on your ship. If you wanna be incognito you can't fly around in a floating fortress, now can you?"

He scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, what do you suggest?"

She was all teeth and tongue.


	8. Chapter 8

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter <strong>**8**

"But why blue?" he asked as Rose herded him through the door half an hour later.

"Just go with it."

His shoes met sidewalk, damp from a recent drizzle. A well-timed passing car sprayed puddle on his legs and icy water trickled down his trousers into his socks. Lovely.

Beside him, Rose inhaled the air as though she'd never smelled anything as nice as wet pavement and car exhaust. "Good old London Town," she said as her breath clouded the air, "how I've missed you." She turned and trailed her fingers along the police box, lingering over a notch in the wood.

Right—his vision on the balcony of a man with a box must have been the Doctor and his TARDIS. No wonder she insisted on the design.

Rose rested her head against the door and gazed at him with a look so intense, the shells of his ears heated.

"We going to get chips or not?" he asked.

She sprang toward him, looped her arm around his, and tugged him forward without a word. At least she hadn't run off at the first available opportunity.

People in wool coats and funny hats with rounded crowns walk by. A large red bus blared a horn while it sped around a corner. A child cried at the sound while two women bickered at a newsstand.

How ordinary. No screams, no smoke or fire, just … life. "So this is when you're from."

"Not exactly," she said. "Off by fifty years or so, but if you want the best chips you gotta go back a few decades before they stopped wrapping them in newspaper. Something about it just gives it that certain taste. There." She pointed up the street at a bulky white box with a rickety canopy. "That should do."

As they approached, a portly man with a stained shirt tipped an imaginary hat their way. "Wot can I get the 'appy couple today?"

Couple? He loosened his arm from hers.

"Two servings of chips please." Rose dropped several coins into the vendor's hand and the man gave her a pair of bundles. She handed him one.

Heat spread through that oh-so-important paper to his fingers as the smell of cooking oil and ink wafted just under his nose. He had to admit, the combination was strangely aromatic.

Rose beckoned toward the walkway by the river and he followed her lead. She shoved two chips in her mouth and moaned. "Oh, these are gorgeous."

He held up one, sniffed, and then bit the end of it. Soft and salty. "Not bad."

She bumped into his shoulder. "Loads better than that awful rubbish you tried to serve me earlier."

He feigned offense. "I'll have you know, that soup is considered the height of gourmet dining on Tannus Four."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, all right. Truth be told, I never cared for it either." He bumped back and they both laughed.

A bird swooped in and landed on a power-line just over their heads. It preened its glossy feathers without a care, oblivious to who sat underneath. How odd. No enemy lay in wait, no prospective mutiny near-at-hand, no need for appearances or formalities. He didn't realize normalcy was so … relaxing.

Rose sat down on a bench overlooking the water and zipped the collar of her jacket closed.

"So enlighten me," he said as he scooted beside her. "What's with the leather? Seems like such a brooding look for someone like you."

"What, you don't like my jacket?" She held out her navy sleeve. "But leather is so fashionable."

"You humans and your peculiar little fads." He took another bite.

"Says the man in black velvet. I'll have you know, mister Time Lord, your parallel version wore leather in his last incarnation, a leather jacket no less."

"No."

"Did too," she said with a mouthful.

"Lies." He shook his head but didn't bother to hide his amusement. "A Time Lord in leather? I've seen a lot in my day, but that is just too much."

She giggled while she chewed. "It's true, he really did. And it was downright sexy."

Something brushed against his knuckles. He glanced down. Rose drew circles along the back of his hand with the tips of her fingernails as though touching him were the most natural thing. Tingles skittered up his arm. He looked back up and found her closer—close enough that their breath mingled. Close enough that he noticed flecks of copper radiating from her pupils like a supernova suspended in time. His chest thudded.

"You know what goes good with chips?" Rose crumpled her newspaper into a ball and stood, her warmth dissipating as fast as the moment. "Milkshakes. You can get the most delicious banana milkshakes you've ever tasted from this banana planet. What's it called?" She tapped her bottom lip. "Can't remember … Via- Villa …"

He shrank. "Villengard?"

"That's the one." She tossed the paper in a bin.

Of all places, she had to go and pick one he had ravaged. And she didn't say anything about milkshakes before. He wasn't her personal chauffeur.

The wind caught her blond hair and whipped it across her face. She nudged his shoe with hers. "Whadaya say?"

Well, maybe if he landed with precision …

"Come on then, up you go." Rose shooed him from his seat toward the TARDIS. "Shift."

Another trip. What was he getting himself into?

* * *

><p>He stepped into the glare of two suns. Ahead, banana trees filled every space not occupied with towering buildings, streets, and cobbled walkway. In mere seconds, his suit stuck to his skin like a thick black paste. Villengard—it ought to be called the sauna planet.<p>

Fingers curled around his. Rose pressed against him as she pushed up on her toes and scanned the skyline, her free hand at her brow.

His surroundings dissolved. No suns, cityscape, or trees, only Rose and the saccharine scent of her hair as it draped along his shoulder, the feel of it as it tickled near the pulse of his neck.

"That's odd," she said, bringing everything back into sharp focus. "Why is everyone in a tizzy?"

Someone screamed.

People rushed through the street, grabbing children and belongings and piling into transports. Ships zoomed overhead. Columns of black smoke bled into the turquoise sky. His gaze followed the trails to the shell of a burnt-out factory, half crumbled into the steep hillside.

He sucked in a breath. "No." He pulled his hand from hers and sprinted down the road. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What's going on?" Rose asked.

"Tell me the date!" he shouted at the frenzied crowd. No one answered.

An advert for sonic blasters flashed across the holographic window on a mechanics shop to his left, then the time and temperature, and finally the date. He raked his hands through his hair. "Cycle forty-four, day nineteen? That can't be right. I set the coordinates to come one week before today."

Rose stepped into his line of sight, her face grave. "Victor, tell me what's happening."

"In half an hour, a timed neutrino detonation in that weapons factory will take out a five-hundred kilometer radius."

"What?" Rose gaped at the smoldering hill.

"It's been over two regenerations for me. I didn't expect the TARDIS to glitch and send us here today of all days."

She pressed her lips into a tight line. "Well, now you can make it right."

He tilted his head. "Pardon?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you want a ruddy milkshake or not? Can't have one if everyone's running for their lives, now can you?"

"But if we just—"

"Oh, come off it. It won't take long, will it, Mister Time Lord Victorious? Sort it out and we'll be on our way."

She couldn't be serious.

"Unless you don't think you can manage," she added, her airy tone one-hundred percent challenge.

Confound it all.

* * *

><p>Wind ruffled his hair, too dense and hot to offer any relief from the stifling temperature. The factory grew larger and larger in their sights, then listed to the right.<p>

"Pull to the left," he shouted at Rose over the deafening putter of engines.

She gripped the controls tighter. "I'm trying. This beastly thing won't fly right."

"I said left!"

"Not the direction. I meant the other right, you dolt! I think it's jammed."

He cursed as the hillside drew nearer. A crash he could survive, but a neutrino blast because he was knocked unconscious—not so much. He reached over and yanked the controls to the side. The banana freighter leveled out just before skidding into a pile of rubble and slamming into a pillar. Bits of brick reigned down on him as his knee jammed into the break pad.

Everything fell silent. He pried his hands from the control stick, choking on dust and smoke. Blonde hair spilled over the dash beside him. His hearts stopped. "Rose …"

Her shoulders convulsed, then shifted. She arched her head back and laughed with her whole body, dirt smeared across her forehead. "Gosh, I've missed this so much." She exhaled a satisfied sigh. "Can we do that again?"

"Are you mad?" He unfastened her safety strap and nudged her head from side to side. Full range of motion, no dilated pupils. Thank the stars. He helped her to her feet. "I commend your hot-wiring skills, Rose, but your driving leaves much to be desired."

"Oh, hush. We made it didn't we?" She dusted off her jacket. "Though it looks like our ride is toast." She kicked the splintered remains of a banana crate to the side.

"We won't fare any better if we don't move. Detonation is in less than"—he took out his laser and squinted at the readout—"five minutes."

Rose maneuvered over the mound of debris onto flatter footing. "So what are we standing around for? Let's see that winning spirit of yours, Time Lord."

There was something about that smirk of hers, playful with just the right amount of I-dare-you. Like she knew precisely what to say and how to say it to unleash his inner vying nature. He flashed a cocky grin of his own. "Well then, greatest assistant in all of creation, this way."

He sprinted toward the side stairwell with his screwdriver extended. Rose followed close behind. A gust cleared the smoke and revealed half the railing of the structure torn away, steel steps jutting out at varied angles like teeth riddled with tooth decay.

"We'll have to brave it," he said as he tucked his laser away. "Mind your step." He offered his hand. A familiar prickling sensation resonated along his time sense as she took it.

That old cohort, adrenaline, pumped inside him as they hurried up the stairs. He lived for this—that inward high when mired deep in the conflict, when the stakes could be no greater. What could be more thrilling than besting himself?

At the top, open sky shone where the ceiling had once been. The structural skeleton of the floor joists twisted up through the collapsed roof tiles. A featureless sphere no bigger than his palm reflected the sunlight few yards away.

"There." He threw himself at the heap but it shifted under his weight. Just as he reached for the silver ball, it sunk underneath chunks of wall, roof, and glass. "No!"

He struggled to keep his footing but his legs sunk deeper into the pile. Trapped. Sweat stung his eyes as he peeled away anything within reach. "No no no! Where did it go?"

"What can I do?" Rose asked by the stairs, her usual cheery tone replaced by an uncharacteristic soberness.

"Nothing. I have to disable the signal with my laser. It's the only thing that can stop it. If I could just find it!"

A high-pitched beeping emanated from beneath a chunk of wall behind him. The beeping grew faster, more urgent. He cursed.

Twisting his torso as best he could, he shoved his hands under the large slab, and heaved it to the side with a grunt. A red light blinked against a half-torn air duct. He fumbled with his screwdriver as the beeping sound turned into one continuous hum. While holding his breath, he raked the laser over the silver-colored ball. It powered down with a mechanical sigh.

He slid against the pile and wiped his face with his sleeve. "That was close."

Rose clapped. "You did it."

The building shook beneath him. Not good. He braced against the debris and pushed but couldn't free himself. Another shudder. Really, really not good.

"Hold on," said Rose. "I'll see if I can get you out." She stuck a foot into the pile.

"No, don't," he said with a wave. "It's not stable. Any moment it could—"

Up, down, floor, sky—he tumbled over and over again. Amid the sudden blur of light and sound, he thought he heard his name being screamed. He reached out and gabbed something solid. Sharp metal cut into his fingers but he held fast. The roar of tumbling brick and screeching girders suddenly stopped as the floor fell away. His legs swayed above an imposing drop.

"I can't get to you," Rose shouted from somewhere above. "Wait there."

Like he had a choice. The beam groaned then jerked down, all but snapping with his weight. Blood trickled down his sleeve.

A shadow moved along the stairwell. He squinted through the smoke and spied a flash of navy as it disappear from view.

Rose …

Again the beam lurched, dropping his entire frame. The metal peeled downward as though in slow motion. So, death had come again. A fitting end for his monumental lack of judgment. He clenched his eyes shut. With a sickening snap, he was in free-fall.

Pain exploded everywhere as he collided with something hard and tinny. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he rolled onto his knees, his palms flat against a grate crusted with mud. He propped against the rusty plating of a control podium. What was this, some sort of floating ramp? Powered by atom thrusters if the hum beneath him were any indication—likely used for docking freighters.

The metal grate pattered with the sound of footfall. Two arms flung around his neck.

"I thought I'd lost you," Rose said into his ear.

"Rose, you … came back for me."

She pulled away, clutching his shoulders. "Course I did. I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"But why?" After everything he'd put her through …

"Blimey, your hands." She slipped the necktie scarf from his collar and blotted at his fingers with the wadded cloth.

Was he really so dense? Of course she couldn't let him die. She'd be unable to get back to her own universe, much less stop the darkness.

Rose tied the fabric around his left hand—the worse of the two—and then swept his soaked bangs from his brow. "You okay?" she asked, her eyes crinkled at the corners.

He sucked in a breath. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she genuinely didn't want him hurt. Maybe she really did want to be with him.

"Come on." Rose hooked his arm over her shoulder and hoisted him onto his feet. "Let's see if we can ride this thing back down. I think we've earned those milkshakes."

* * *

><p>The setting suns threw various hues of color across the sky as they meandered through a gathering crowd. His muscles ached from exhaustion, arms limp at his sides. At least the sticky air had cooled, if only a little.<p>

The sounds of cheering and drums spread until they came from every direction. The crowd thickened. People bounced and swayed in rhythm, impeding their path as shredded banana leaves rained down from the balcony above.

"This is madness," he shouted above the noise.

"You know what your problem is? You spend too much time looking at things behind glass." Rose twirled under the improvised confetti, arms outstretched. "Sometimes you just gotta jump into the thick of it and let go."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, loosen up, dance."

"Dance?"

"Yeah, haven't you ever danced before?"

He eyed the writhing bodies next to him. "This isn't dancing. It's bumbling about with obnoxious banging in the background."

"Try it." She moved to grab his hands but he pulled back.

"You do realize they're celebrating my defeat."

"It's not about that. It's about being alive, about living to the fullest. And there's no reason you can't celebrate too." She dipped down and grabbed at something, then sprang back up. Handfuls of shredded leaves piled in his hair. "Or are you too old and decrepit for fun?" There was that tongue again, that prove-me-wrong glint in her eye.

"Decrepit? I'll show you old and decrepit." He reached down and gathered a pile, but her dark shoes disappeared into the crowd. "Bad form," he shouted. "You can't provoke and then flee."

She giggled like a rollicking schoolgirl. He followed the sound until he spotted her frayed hair a few feet away.

"What's the matter, can't keep up, old man?"

He tossed the leaves at her back but the wind caught them and they fluttered onto the cobblestone.

"Missed," she called in a sing-song voice as she ducked behind a building.

The minx. He rounded the corner but stopped at the sight of thousands more people in the street—factory workers and their families, students, and officers all waving and singing and shouting. How was he ever going to spot her in this?

Doubt crept back into his mind. After all that, she wouldn't try to …

"Psst."

He turned. Rose stood at the entryway of a shop holding two tankards of milkshakes piled high with cream. The tension in his body ebbed away.

She thrust a glass into his hand. "They're giving them away. Can you believe it?" Her glass chinked against his. "Bottoms up."

He tipped his glass up and the cold substance slid onto his tongue. Rich, but subtle, and surprisingly tasty. He ought to try common food more often.

Rose licked her lips. "What's the verdict?"

"Almost worth the trouble."

"See?" she said as she bumped into his arm. "Some things you just gotta experience close up. Can't enjoy this from behind a glass case." She buried her mouth into the mountain of cream and hummed.

He chuckled at her frothy mustache. Perhaps milkshakes weren't the only things he couldn't put behind glass.

"You know, that's a good look for you," she said with a nod.

He glanced down. "Hm?"

"The open collar, without the stuffy scarf."

Instinctively, he touched his exposed collarbone. He'd long ago considered himself above the simple effects of flattery, but as she looked sideways at him with that turn-away grin, he couldn't help but think he might not ever wear that scarf again.


	9. Chapter 9

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter <strong>**9**

He stretched his slender fingers under the light of the time rotor. Faint pink lines spanned across his palm—the only evidence of his mishap earlier. Curious things, new bodies, always swirling with excess regenerative energy. Such heightened sensations, as though watching the world with the volume up too loud and the screen too bright. And yet something felt off, something even the newness couldn't explain.

Despite each face change, his nature had always stayed intact—so why did he feel embarrassed on the terrace that morning? Or anxious the night before? Such feelings were the mark of lesser beings, weakness of the highest sort. And the girl, every time he went near her his brain went all muddled as though … malfunctioning.

"Lord Victor," Sika said through the comm channel on the console, "Chan Coi 'Thet makes a formal request for a re-challenge."

He curled his fingers into a ball. "Request denied."

"And what shall I do to ensure he abides by your decree, my Lord?"

He detected an uneasy inflection in Sikah's voice, subtle but present. He whipped out his laser screwdriver and flicked the diodes into place.

The doors burst open. Chan Coi 'Thet strutted into the chamber adorned in his ceremonial armor, his chest plate puffed out. Horns, bones and teeth protruded from the ridges like grotesque trophies. 'Thet scanned the room for his human prey, then settled his gaze onto his master. His crusted lip curled into a sneer, revealing serrated teeth.

Oh, he knew that look. He'd lived it—that thirst for blood. But if any blood were to spoil the pristine white marble of his console chamber, it would be that of 'Thet and not Rose. He edged away from the console and trained his screwdriver higher. "State your intent."

Chan Coi 'Thet mirrored his movement, talons clicking along the polished floor. "I demand what is owed," he said with more growl than voice, a wet rasping that sent spittle soaring. "Your laws decree that any may challenge a past opponent."

He tightened his grip. "My laws are just that, mine, and I decree that you keep your distance." His glare said the rest: act, and I will end you.

The wrinkled flesh of Thet's gullet pulsed. "You deny me my right to spare a weakling female?"

"Your right?" The gall. But how could he expect anything less? The same reason this warrior had been an invaluable asset was the same reason he was now a massive liability—killing was a matter of pride to his culture. 'Thet would not be satiated until he stood above her mangled body, no matter the personal cost.

He didn't lower his laser, but typed one-handed into the spacial locator input. "Let's be clear, slave, the only rights you have are those I bestow upon you." He thrust down the throttle. The time column lit up as the crystallized center spun up and down. "But if it's your image you seek to protect, then go. Go back to your wars and your battlefields where no one knows of your defeat."

The time rotor stilled and the main door opened. Thick, leafy foliage spilled into the chamber, carrying the earthy scent of clay.

"Walk over that threshold and claim mastery over yourself," he said to 'Thet. He altered the setting on the laser and waved it in the creature's direction. The large metal band fell to the ground with a thud. "Try to walk through the other doors, and I'll slice you in half before you take two steps. Your end will be quick and painless." And meaningless—the worst sort of fate for a Chulan.

'Thet's slitted pupils flitted toward the open door then settled back onto the laser. He could smell the inner turmoil, see the creature calculating his odds of attack.

Sikah hovered near the entrance, his skin pale and waxy as though he found the brightness uncomfortable with so little camouflage.

At long last, 'Thet broke his stare and plodded toward freedom. His scaly tail disappeared into the brush, swatting at branches as it went.

Though the color slowly bled back into his skin, Sikah's posture remained rigid, his expression unreadable. He folded his arms behind him. "Apologies for the intrusion, my Lord. I'll notify the pertinent personnel of 'Thet's dismissal."

"Do you doubt me, Sikah?"

"No, My Lord."

"And why not?"

"The others didn't see you on Starfall, my Lord. The man that watched that city burn to the ground was the same man that watched his planet burn, no mistaking that." Sikah's gaze flitted down and back up, lingering on his open collar. "And yet that's not the same man I see before me now. You've changed."

"How so?"

"The Victor I knew didn't free slaves or suffer loose tongues."

Astute observations. Could it be his atypical behavior and inner changes were linked?

The shadewalker turned toward the hall, then paused. He angled his head to the side, the overhead lights glinting off his bald crown. "It's the girl, isn't it?"

His double pulse drummed. "What makes you say that?"

"Because it's obvious to everyone that she means much more to you than you pretend." The muscles at Sikah's jaw twitched as though he wanted to say more, but he shook his head and disappeared into the corridor.

* * *

><p>He stared at the smattering of stars across the sky. Somehow they seemed less bright than before. His gaze fell to the patio garden below. Servants meandered around glistening pools lit by suspended light globes. Sculptures rested on pedestals, still and silent. What brought him here? Did he really think coincidence led him to the balcony to clear his head?<p>

Rassilon! When did things get so complicated?

He raked his hands through his hair. Sikah was right. Look at him, so easily manipulated by the whims of a human girl. How pathetic. She'd transformed him into her personal puppet—tricking him into freeing servants, getting him to whisk her away to whatever destination she pleased, strutting about as if she owned the place.

And all for what? To secure her passage back home, no doubt. Surely this was her plan along; he was just too distracted to see it.

"There you are," he heard someone say in a familiar London accent. "Been looking high and low for you." Rose draped her hands over the stone banister beside him. "You clean up nice. Good to see you back to your old self again."

But he wasn't back to his old self. Not at all.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

He didn't answer. A hand rested on his shoulder and he jerked out of reach. "Don't."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"What have you done?"

"Huh?"

He swiveled to face her. "To me. What's your endgame? Is this some grand scheme of yours?"

"Scheme? What are you talking about?"

He stepped closer. "Did you use some kind of psychrometer? Or a telepathic amplifier of some kind?"

"Psycho what? Victor, you're not making any sense." Her brows twisted, then drew together. "Are you okay?"

There it was again—that same look of concern she gave him on that floating docking ramp, eyes so very round and unmarred by any hint of deceit or agenda. Whatever was going on, Rose was innocent.

But then what other explanation was there? All of this turmoil inside … His gaze darted across the expanse of the courtyard.

"Look," Rose said, "it's been a long day. We both could use some rest. I'll just—"

"Wait." He meant to stall her with a simple touch, but found himself trailing his fingertips down her forearm instead. So soft.

Rose took his hand in hers and squeezed. "What is it?"

"I …" Tell her what, that he couldn't stop thinking about her? That every time she touched him time slowed? That she stirred strange feelings inside him he couldn't explain, much less control? How ridiculous it sounded.

She rubbed her thumb in circles against the back of his hand as though coaxing him to answer.

Memories rushed back—her fingers twisting in his hair under the starlight, her hot breath on his face, their arms locked around each other in the very spot they stood. Want throbbed inside him like an ache. The world blurred. Suddenly his lips were against hers and he held a fistful of her hair, his other hand pressed into the small of her back.

Rose gasped into his mouth and pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss. Even in the dark he could see the flush in her cheeks. "I … I can't."

Her words seared into his ears. "Why not?"

"For a million reasons." She clutched her forehead with a trembling hand and stepped back. "The darkness on our heels, the danger of a disruption to the causal nexus. Take your pick."

"But you kissed me the other night."

"I know." She rubbed her eyes with her palms. "I didn't mean to lead you on or anything. It was just a spur-of-the moment thing. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I … I should go." She gathered her gown and fled toward the stairs, straps of silver woven across her back.

"I didn't give you permission," he called.

She came to an abrupt stop, then spun around, warning in her eyes. "I'm tired and I'm going to bed," she said with over-annunciation, as though he were a child who didn't understand.

"Not until I say you can."

"Screw you."

His jaw flexed. "You forget your place," he said as he strode toward her.

"I thought we were past this." Her posture deflated, her shoulders rounding forward.

Must she look so sad? It didn't suit her. He reached for her.

"Don't." Her words were ice, cold as her unyielding glare.

He balled his hand into a fist and dropped it by his side. "You dare tell me what I can and cannot do?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious? I thought it was all a front, pretending you were heartless, but it's not, is it? You really don't feel a thing. Not for me, and certainly not those people on Villengard you tried to kill today." Rose shook her head, as though after all that time she finally saw him for what he was—and it repulsed her. "I could never be with someone like you." She turned and marched down the steps.

But he did feel.

And as he watched her blonde hair disappear from view, her words stung like a jagged edge thrust deep in his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

The next morning, the lid of the tabletop reactor hissed as he pried open the seal. Vapor escaped around the edges. Behind him, the doors unlatched with a faint click.

"I heard you let 'Thet go last night," Rose said from the doorway. "Is it true?"

The sound of her voice zapped through his frame but he refused to show his surprise. "Yes," he said as he extracted the yield from the reactor with a pair of tongs.

"Why?"

His gaze fell to the roundels along the far end of the chamber. "Why does it matter?"

"'Cause it does."

"That's not a legitimate answer."

"Yeah?" she said, "well neither is answering my question with another question."

He eased the beaker into a metal holding stand as trainers squeaked behind him—Rose must have found her old clothes again. Finest shoes in all the universe and she wouldn't touch them.

"I need to know 'cause it matters to me," she said as her voice drew nearer. "He was your best warrior, so why let him go?"

"My executive decisions are my own. I don't answer to you." He inserted a fresh tube into the cell and flipped the lid closed with more force than necessary.

"You told me to stay away from him yesterday, and now he's gone. Was it 'cause of me?"

He stiffened. Was it that obvious? "He was … defiant, unstable. I couldn't risk him acting against my orders."

"You could have killed him."

"… True."

Rose moved around the table, placed her palms on the surface, and leveled her gaze at him. "So why didn't you?"

She wore her common attire—navy jacket, purple blouse, and black slacks. Her hair lay flat against her face, her bangs tucked under a pin like they had been the day she materialized on Starfall, before she had to go and upend his life. An ache throbbed in his ribcage, as though the blow from the night before had yet to heal.

He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "All that matters is that I neutralized the threat before he compromised a valuable asset. Your knowledge of the darkness—"

"Don't give me that 'valuable asset' crap. You kissed me last night and I need to know what it means."

Heat flashed across his skin. "You kissed me first," he said in a rush, "and you made it abundantly clear it meant nothing so don't be surprised if I tell you the same." He moved around her.

Rose caught hold of him and tugged him to a stop. "Look me in the eye and answer me. Do you care about my well-being or not? And not just 'cause you think I'm property, but 'cause you properly, genuinely care?"

"What a ridiculous question." He shrugged her off and smoothed the wrinkles from his velvet sleeves. "Completely irrelevant. Why would you even ask that?"

"'Cause I need to know if you are capable of caring."

"And what difference could that possibly make?"

"All the difference in the world."

"Well I don't care," he said as he turned back to his work station. "It's the regeneration, something must have gone wrong. And then you waltz in with your dimension hopper and suddenly everything is all different. It's like I'm"—he gripped the edge of the table— "defective."

"Caring isn't a defect you know." Her voice softened. "It's normal, even for Time Lords."

"It's weakness. And I explicitly said I don't care."

"And being alone?" she asked. "How has that worked out for you?"

"Well enough for centuries, thank you very much." He stood and faced her. "Whatever is wrong I'll sort it myself. You were right about me. I'm selfish and heartless, and I don't need you or your feelings."

Rose chewed on the edge of her cheek. "Is that really what you want? To go on alone, jumping from parallel to parallel? 'Cause let me tell you, it's no picnic."

He maneuvered around her to calibrate the stabilizers at the console. "I don't need anyone."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Why bother with this conversation?" He jabbed at the controls. "You made your opinion of me quite clear last night."

"I was wrong."

The cold metal rings of the gravitic anomaliser stalled in his hand. "Were you?"

"Don't get used me saying it either, your highness."

He glanced sideways at her. "There's a surprise, you admitting you were wrong."

"Yeah," Rose said with a puff of air, "about as surprising as you admitting I was right."

He couldn't stop the twitch at the edge of his mouth—there was the old Rose, and that sense of geniality he thought he'd never hear again.

"And I bother 'cause I care," she added, "about you."

The gyroscope spun out of his grasp and he could have sworn the dimensions shifted around them.

Rose traced the buttons along the dash, idling toward him with slow movements as though approaching a bird she didn't want to spook. "When we were out there yesterday, getting chips and saving the world, it was the most fun I'd had in years. And if you care, if I matter to you, then let's go, just you and me." She settled next to him and placed her hand on his, trapping him under the power of her steady gaze. "We can save creation together."

"What would you have me do?" The words came out breathy and desperate, and sounded as strange as he felt.

"Free them. You don't have to conquer the universe to enjoy it. We don't need them. We don't need any of this."

What was he thinking? He yanked his hand out from under hers and retreated to the other end of the console. "That's too much to ask."

She leaned across the dash. "Why? You let Ayaliah go. You let 'Thet go of your own free will."

"That's different."

"No it isn't. There's goodness in you."

"No misguided hope of yours can ever undo the deeds I've done, so what's the point?" A slight tremble worked up his elbows into his wrists and he flattened his hands on the console to still them. Curse her control over him. "What would I gain by freeing my servants and returning my collections except to lose everything?"

"Well what's the point of keeping it all? You never use any of it and you can't take them with you." Once more, she continued her advance with slow, calculated steps, as if she could smell his vulnerability. "But you can take me."

There it was, the request he could neither grant nor deny. He threw his hands in the air. "But don't you see? I'll lose you too, to that Doctor." His cheeks prickled, then burned as he hung his head.

He said too much.

Rose spoke again, her voice closer, gentler. "He wasn't exactly a saint when I met him either you know. Everyone deserves a second chance, even you." She tilted his chin up until he was forced to look at her. "I can't promise the future, but I can promise some laughs and a hand to hold along the way. Whadaya say?" She grazed the stubble along his cheeks with a barely-there touch and he let out a shuddering exhale.

No use pretending anymore. The only person he was fooling was himself.

Life had always been a game of risk and reward, but could he really give up everything he'd worked so hard to gain for this woman?

He nuzzled her palm and sighed. The battle was lost; the logistics didn't matter now. Whatever the outcome, whatever the ultimate cost, his empire was hers.

* * *

><p>"Last trip," Rose said as she clutched the console. "I could use a nice warm cuppa after this."<p>

For the hundredth time, the spinning lights of the time rotor stilled. The door creaked open. Tendrils of icy air swirled into the room, glittering the floor with sand and mica.

Sikah didn't move from his post at the entrance, nor did he bear the look of shock the others displayed when told they were free. Instead he stared at the familiar stars just beyond the threshold, longing in the wrinkles around his eyes.

"I relieve you of your duties," he said to the shadewalker. With a wave of his screwdriver, Sikah's bracelet clattered onto the floor.

Sikah jumped. He nudged the open shackle with his foot as though waiting for the trap to spring. After a long moment of consideration, he took a tentative step forward. "I do not pretend to know the nuances of your species, but the transformation I have witnessed in you defies logic." His attention flitted toward Rose. "Or perhaps I underestimated the power of your new mate. How could a simple human have wrought such a change?"

Rose crossed her arms. "Did you just call me simple? And who said I was his—"

"That will be all, Sikah." Let him think what he will, so long as he never had to look at him again.

"Of course, my Lord. I take my leave." Sikah bowed for the last time. Without a backward glance, he passed into the shadows of his world.

"Who was he anyway?" Rose asked.

"Emperor of the dark realm, Stygiria. Or at least, he will be." The door swung shut, cutting off the cold. "I've often wondered why I've never triggered a paradox, considering how many I've pulled out of history. Now I know."

"'Cause of me you mean?" Rose twisted a lock of hair against the contours of her mouth. "—coming here and suggesting you send them back?" Lip gloss stippled across the twin arches of her upper lip, then smeared along the plump flesh of the lower one.

"Must be." Perspiration beaded along his neck. They were alone now, entire ship to themselves. Sure they'd been alone before, but the dynamics of their relationship had shifted. This was uncharted territory.

"Speaking of suggestions"—Rose pivoted toward him—"if we're gonna save creation together, we need to lay down some ground rules."

He tugged at his open collar. "Rules? You never said anything about—"

"Rule one," she continued, "no killing. We'll start with getting rid of that laser of yours." She nodded toward his pocket. "Out with it."

"You can't be serious."

Rose held out her hand and beckoned with her fingers. "Totally serious."

"Oh, no you don't." He stepped back, hand over the bulge under his breast pocket. "Not the screwdriver."

"Yep."

"But a man needs his screwdriver." How could she expect him to divorce himself from a permanent extension of his arm?

"It's not the screwdriver that's the problem," she said as she lunged for his jacket. "It's the laser bit."

He swerved from her grasp. "Well, we can't all have sonic you know. It's not like I can just pop down to the shop and—"

"Oh, would you look at that?" Rose bent down to examine a clear tube sticking out of the flap of the fabrication dispenser on the console beside them. She plucked out a screwdriver, a sonic screwdriver.

He glanced down at the dispenser, then back up at her. "How did—"

"You said yourself the old girl was sentient." She gave the console a pat. "Seems she agrees with me."

Conspiring fiends, the both of them. He cradled his laser against his chest. "Is nothing sacred?"

"Quit whining and hand it over already."

He angled his back toward her. "I know you think you can just bat those eyes of yours and get whatever you want, but there are some lines which must not be crossed."

Rose squared her shoulders. She licked her lips, then smiled, the type of devious smile that made one want to brace. "Betcha this thing has some cool sonicky features you haven't thought of," she said in a sing-song voice. "Shiny too, don't you think?" The blue tip of the sonic screwdriver caught the light as she waggled it between her forefinger and thumb.

Did it have dampers? Could it resonate on lower frequencies? He swiped at it, but Rose pulled it back like a treat before a domesticated pet.

"Nuh-uh," she said. "That one first."

"You know, I'm starting to rethink this whole arrangement."

She cupped the device against her cheek and fluttered her dark lashes. "But it's sonic. So impressive, remember?"

Before he could stop himself, he handed it over.

Rose shoved the new one at him and sauntered towards the double doors. "Now then, where's that cuppa?"

"Don't know what you expect," he said as he admired the sway of her hips. "With all the servants gone we're likely to starve now."

"Don't be so dramatic."

He followed her but stopped in the corridor. Where once stood grand columns of stone now stood a closed-in hallway. Conduits snaked along the low ceiling. A blue glow flanked the graded walkway like landing lights on an airstrip.

What on Gallifrey was going on?

Rose disappeared around the corner. He hurried after her and wandered into a tiny room lined with cupboards the color of aged paper. A kettle trembled atop a pint-sized stove, a round wooden table with a diameter no bigger than his arm crammed into the corner.

"This is … different," he said.

"Not to me." Rose fiddled with something by the counter which clinked and clacked just out of sight. "This kitchen was my second home on the TARDIS in my universe."

He eyed the peeling paint along the beams above his head. "Why is it so … unsightly?"

"It's not unsightly." She petted the handle of the kettle as though he'd offended it. "It's cozy. Very English cottage. Now take a seat. Looks like it's almost done."

"Sit where?" He looked around the room again and spotted a pair of stools tucked under the table. "Right." With a huff, he dragged the closest one out and scooted onto the hard surface. So, his unfaithful ship decided to transform to accommodate a guest over him. First the screwdriver, now this. What next?

Rose set a mug on the table and tinked a spoon against the rim. "Just one sugar? No." She dumped in two more. "Three. I bet you like your tea sweet. He always did."

If the man decorated his TARDIS like a poorhouse, he doubted they had much in common at all. Rose pushed the mug toward him and their fingers overlapped for the briefest second. Something pinched inside him in that place reserved just for her.

Well, he and his parallel self had at least one thing in common.

Heat wafted just beneath his nose as he took a long, wet sip. Not bad. Perhaps his tastes were closer to his counterpart than he'd care to admit. "How extraordinary," he said above the steam. "A week ago, I would have killed you for daring to suggest I free my servants, and yet here I am, drinking tea with you on a completely empty ship with no thought of what tomorrow will bring."

Rose hummed into her cup as she leaned against the sink, eyes half closed. "Maybe you just needed some gentle persuasion."

"No, Sikah was right. Something isn't adding up. I've been experiencing foreign emotions, embarrassment, anxiety, and concern." Among other things. "That's never happened before."

"But don't you get a new body during regeneration? Why couldn't you just change?"

"It doesn't work like that." He set down his mug. "We Time Lords are beholden to our bodies to a certain extent, yes, but our essence always stays intact. Our core energy writes the DNA for each new body based on past experience. Essentially we turn into what will best suit us at that moment, building on what we were before, but we don't completely change. Not like this."

Rose traced the rim of her mug, vapor swirling around her hand. "So you're saying you couldn't go from a sociopath to a man who feels"— a hint of pink flushed at her cheeks—"stuff?"

His cup felt slick against his clammy fingertips, though from the warmth of his beverage or her inexplicable control over his sweat glands he couldn't tell. "Not when I considered it an advantage not to feel. The only time I've seen such a radical change is in age-induced mania brought by an overly long life." He straightened his spine. "And before you start again, I am nowhere near old and decrepit, thank you very much."

Rose bit her lip to stifle a giggle. "All right, fine. You're young and rocking it. So how did the regeneration go wrong?"

As he took another sip, he replayed his recent conversation with Sikah in his head. "Maybe it didn't. I didn't technically change until I met you, after I had already regenerated." He tucked his free hand under his chin. "Maybe it is something to do with you. Something to do with Bad Wolf."

"Me? But I told you, I haven't done anything."

"But you have, don't you see? It's as if time writes itself around you, adjusts to your presence, allows you to accomplish things that normal people can't. You're writing history just by being here—I sensed it the moment we met."

She lugged out the other stool and slumped onto it. "So somehow I've messed things up."

"No no no. It was always meant to happen this way, remember? If I hadn't returned all those people, I would have triggered multiple paradoxes. You were the fix."

Rose twisted her mouth to the side. "If you were so worried about me messing up the universe by traveling, what were you doing with all those people in the first place?"

He studied the wooden grain of the table, the worn finish, the little scratches gouged into the surface as though it had seen years of use. "Guess it was to prove that I could defeat the laws of time."

"Is that even possible?"

"Don't know. I've never tested them, even when I thought I had."

"Yeah? Well I vote we leave them untested. We'll call it rule number two."

Once more a smile pulled at the edge of his mouth, but he no longer felt the instinct to hide it. "How many more of these rules should I expect from you, Miss Tyler?"

Rose slurped at her tea, a glint in her eye. "Wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise."


	11. Chapter 11

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>**1**

As he left her to retire for the night, he couldn't shake the ominous sensation trickling along his time sense. Something was coming, and soon. He stopped mid-way down the corridor.

What in the name of Davros had his ship gone and done now?

Flecks of teal and green emanated from mini roundels lining the dome of the control room which was much lower than he remembered and several shades darker. Six florescent tubes of light had replaced the old crystal time rotor, extending into a metal pump encased in glass. Wrapped around the center column was a hexagonal dashboard, all random buttons and knobs and wire.

He inched toward the console, the floor vibrating under his shoes. Metal grating, how quaint. Altering major settings without a pilot's consent used to be unheard of. Apparently it was the norm now. He trailed his hand across the notches of the inertial dampers on the dash and spotted the make-shift lab through the open railing on the lower level.

He walked back toward the entrance, then veered to the side and down the steps toward the workstation. Seven mini reactors waited atop the table just as he left them, the cooling unit purring off to the side. He tugged the cooler door open. Days of work and this was all they had. Rose said the darkness would be there in less than a week four nights ago.

They didn't have enough.

Prickles of numbness spread along his fingers and he realized was still gripping the plastic handle. He let go. With just this, they could send one person. Leave Rose here to dissolve into nothing, or consign himself to the ghastly fate instead?

Either choice was unacceptable.

But what could he do? It wasn't like he could accelerate the process. Half the amount, half the distance, that would get them a one-way ticket to the middle of nothingness. Unless …

He hurried back up the ramp toward the console. It better be there. While crouched beneath the diagnostic panel, he lifted the grate from the floor to reveal a trim box. Good, his TARDIS hadn't lost it. He plucked the container from its snug niche and opened the lid. Pieces of dismembered dimension cannon and a small flip phone rolled to the side.

He picked up the primitive communicator and hunted for the entry which he knew lurked somewhere in the phone's memory. Then he saw it, two words which incited equal parts curiosity and spite: The Doctor.

He scanned the mobile phone's log with his screwdriver. No successful calls to that number in four years. No surprise there—Rose was lucky she could contact her mysterious control center at all. Inter-reality communication required precise time-space coordinates and synchronization. She could call them as they were fixed in space and time, but they couldn't call her. Which also meant she couldn't call the Doctor.

But he could.

He circled around to the opposite end of the time rotor and pecked at the controls. If he could just siphon off the energy of a quasar or supernova, he could supplement the power reserves and boost the signal. Then he could link his own TARDIS signal broadcast frequency to the Doctor's number.

He plugged in the phone to the communication panel but paused with his hand on the lever. Opening communication with this man also opened the door to a new threat; this was the man Rose crossed countless parallels to pursue, the man she'd give anything to reunite with. One little chat between the two of them and he could lose her before he even had a proper chance.

If he didn't act, he'd lose her for sure. He yanked down the time throttle. The ship trembled under the strain of the nearby pulsing energy. It'd be a wonder if Rose didn't wake and storm in to demand what mischief he was up to. With one hand on the dash rail, he locked the ship onto the quasar and twisted the gravatic stabilizers. The shuddering reduced to a slight tremor.

He typed in the parameters. A circular glyph flashed on the screen as he drummed his fingers against the dash. "Come on, pick up you sorry excuse for a—"

The screen switched to a man in a pale blue button-up shirt slouched in front of the monitor. A mop of wet brown hair hung at odd angles along his forehead, drips running down his skin and onto clothes. His dark eyes flitted to the screen, unfocused and red.

What a mess.

The Doctor blinked and sat up in surprise, then his face fell. "You." The bulge in his throat bobbed. "Why did you contact me? Isn't she enough?"

"I think our timestreams are getting a bit mixed up—"

"Wait a minute." A pair of familiar glasses found the man's long nose. "What rubbish are you wearing?"

He straightened his tie scarf. "I hardly think you're one to scold someone for fashion sense." Not to be outdone, he donned his own pair of spectacles.

The Doctor stretched his neck forward, his angular face thrown into the sharp contrast of teal and orange lights. "But that's a type Type 101 Mark 10 TARDIS. How did you get your hands on— Wait a minute, you're not … Who are you?"

"That's not important," he said with a wave of his hand. "What is important is that I warn you. I'm from a parallel world. You're in danger. We all are."

"The darkness," the man said.

"If you know about it, you must be farther along in the time stream. I take it we were successful, then?"

The Doctor cocked his head to the side. "We?"

"Rose and I."

The muscles around the Doctor's eyes tightened as he looked past him. "Rose Tyler? Is she with you?"

A cold chill settled inside him. "If our time streams don't match then it's best we don't—"

"That's only on your end," the Doctor said. "I've seen how things play out. It won't disturb the timeline if you answer my question."

Great. The man had the clear advantage. "This conversation is pointless," he said as he lifted his hand to disconnect the call. "I'll have to go back further."

"No," the Doctor called out. "I was never contacted by you until now. Try and you'll alter the course of events."

He glowered at the man, then slowly lowered his hand. Seemed he had no choice. "Fine. Rose arrived in my reality four days ago. I destroyed her dimension cannon before I knew of its significance. She's stranded and the darkness is closing in."

His doppelganger's expression morphed into concern. "What'd you do that for?"

"It was dangerous. Don't tell me you would just have let her swan off if the same happened to you."

The Doctor tilted his head to the side and considered for a moment. "Fair enough."

"We're in the process of synthesizing trinium," he continued, "but we're out of time. We have enough to get us halfway to your reality. We need you to open the breech on your end. Together I think we can punch through."

"No, the fissures are closing as we speak and I won't risk breaking them open again."

"But … you condemn us all."

The Doctor raised his left brow to an impressive height. "I don't think I am. You said you can get halfway here. That means you could send one person all the way." The man dipped his glasses. "You just don't want to."

He bristled. "Let me cross. I can help."

"I don't need your help," the Doctor said. "Obviously the darkness is gone and we did it without you."

We—as in the two of them, together. The image left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. "And if I leave her behind and come alone?" He'd never do it, but the threat was the only leverage he had.

"Rose's arrival is integral to our success. You have to let her come back to me."

Right. Send her back to_ him_. Might as well offer a concession speech while he was at it. "I don't have to do anything if you don't need my help," he said in a rush, "and you best stop talking before you cause a paradox."

"No, I'm preventing one. If Rose doesn't get back, the events that stopped the darkness won't happen." His counterpart angled his head downward, his expression grave. "You know I can't say more."

"Then time will be rewritten."

"Not this," The Doctor said as he shook his head. "No, you can't. The fate of everything is at stake. Whatever steps she takes to try and return to me, you mustn't impede. And she must return alone."

The thought of being left behind made his stomach writhe. "I'm just as clever as you, and I can fix this just as well as she can. Let the timelines adjust to one more person."

"It's not about whose more clever. It's about Rose being at the right place and the right time for events to unfold as they were foretold. Change it and everything could be consumed."

"But time is in flux. I can sense it."

"For you perhaps, but I've experienced fixed points—things that can't be undone." The Doctor's voice cracked, a suspicious sheen misting over his eyes.

"I'll find a way," he said through gritted teeth.

"You have no right."

He pounded a fist on the dash. "I have every right. I'm the Time Lord Victorious!"

The man's mouth parted in surprise. His penetrating gaze roamed over him. "What's your name?"

They both knew he wasn't just asking for a title. For a Time Lord, that one word would divulge more about his character than any superfluous dialogue could. He squared his shoulders. "To many, I'm called the destroyer, to others, the black judgment. But I prefer Victor."

He wouldn't have thought it possible for the Doctor's face to grow paler, but it did. "And you've got Rose."

Neither dared to blink as the TARDIS jostled.

"Where is she?" the Doctor asked in a sharp tone. "This is her signal."

"Never mind that. We have to hurry."

"Where—is—she?"

"She'll be nothing and nowhere if you don't act."

The Doctor leaped back and a blue light flickered across the screen.

"Stop that. You'll destabilize the conn—"

Suddenly he stood face to face with a holographic projection of himself. The TARDIS groaned, wires swaying above his head. He could see every bit of stubble, every pore, every imperfection on the man's face. The man's blackened glare shone with a fury only one like himself could truly admire.

The Doctor took a step forward, so close he half-expected to feel the man's breath. "Where is she?"

"Safe."

"She better be," the Doctor said. "And if she isn't returned to me in one piece—"

"You'll what? Glare me to death?"

The ship pitched and the console blared in warning. Power couplings clanged against the time column. Sparks sprayed, hissing and popping in brilliant flares of blue.

"Stop this," he said to man in brown. "You're burning the energy up and we haven't got much time."

"Then listen to me," the Doctor shouted. "Your reality will be reset the moment she leaves. The darkness will never have happened so your fate won't be permanent. And even if it was, your life isn't more important than every life that ever existed."

He curled his lip. "You think this is about self-preservation? I don't fear death."

The Doctor's forehead scrunched up as though he'd just solved a puzzle. "No, you don't, do you? You fear life—a life without her."

He opened his mouth, but shut it again.

Spoken from experience. It was written in the man's frown, the sunken shoulders, the tired expression of one who'd seen too many losses.

The Doctor's voice rounded into softer tones. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice what we want for the good of others."

He shook his head. "I can't do that."

"You would risk everything for your own selfish desires?"

"There is no reward without risk."

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Victor—"

"I will fight for her."

"—we both know how this plays out. It will happen. You can't change it without catastrophic repercussions."

Cocky bastard, declaring victory before the battle had even begun. "Help me get across!"

"No."

Crimson crowded his vision. The tendons in his next flexed and he could feel the throb of his pulse—feel the bloodlust boiling to the surface. If he weren't a hologram he'd reach out and strangle the man.

The Doctor tapped at button on his phantom console. "The connection is fading. Don't tell her about this. No one should know too much about their future."

His shoulders heaved with the strain of each breath, the rims of his fingernails cutting into his palms.

"Look," the Doctor said as he took off his glasses, "if you really care about Rose, do what's right for her."

With another jerk of his ship, he was alone.

He slammed the lever downward and the TARDIS began to dematerialize. "No. I will not accept defeat."

He'd bend all of time and space to be with her, tear a thousand realities into nothing if that's what it took. Whatever the cost, he'd pay it.

And so would everyone else.

* * *

><p>He snapped the two pieces of the outer shell of the newly minted dimension cannon together and shook it. By his calculations, he had two out of three options remaining. Option one was the simplest, but it seemed his counterpart was less gracious than his title suggested.<p>

That left the next option—going back on his own timeline and starting the synthesis process earlier. Ordinarily, time adjusted to change with ease by resolving paradoxes along the path of least resistance, but if the Doctor was right and all of creation relied on specific actions by Rose and Rose alone, changing even one minute detail could prove much more difficult. He just hoped Rose could look past her 'rules' when the time came because the option three was far more vague.

He twisted the knob at the top. Almost ready. With the old chip from the other dimension hopper installed, it'd be indistinguishable from her other device.

"Whoa."

He jumped as Rose's voice echoed in the low dome behind him.

"You've redecorated," she said as the sound footfall pattered along the ramp.

"Wasn't my doing," he said with feigned nonchalance, "but I suppose that's what I get for having a sentient ship. Never know what she'll get up to next."

"Whatcha got there?"

"This," he said as he turned and held up the flattened disc, "is your new dimension cannon. It can withstand temperatures up to five thousand degrees, it's impervious to crushing, and the interior hull is coated with dwarf star alloy to allow for a charging cycle of approximately twenty-eight minutes. Infinitely better than that mockery you had before. "

"Thanks," she said as she snatched it from him. "That thing was only my life's work."

He tugged on his earlobe. "Yes, well it was very impressive."

"For being created by human, you mean."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." She turned it over and traced the groves of the yellow power cell in the center. "Very 1950s space-age, innit?"

"Had to try out my new tool." He aimed his sonic screwdriver at her face, the tip whirring to life.

She stumbled back. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Scanning you with my new scanner, of course." He raked his tool down her midsection and back up again.

Rose squinted under the onslaught of blue light. "I see that, thanks."

"Did you know I can intercept signals from 2.4 million parsecs away with this thing?"

She nudged his arm to the side. "Whatcha scanning me for?"

"Option three," he muttered too low for her to hear. This woman once had the time vortex swirling inside her; who knew what she really was or what she was capable of. Could her power be harnessed, and would it be enough to get them across?

Rose glared at him.

"All right, fine," he said. "I'm trying to figure what you are, and more specifically, how you walk through everything unscathed, like the time vortex and the battle with 'Thet. And well, dealing with me." He waved a hand between them as if the gesture would help her better comprehend. "It's like you've got some external force protecting your timeline."

"And you think some number on that thing is gonna tell you all that?" She nodded toward his screwdriver. "I know you think I'm some sort of time goddess, but it's got nothing to do with mysterious forces. I don't think about things. I just go out there and do what needs doing."

He raised his brow high enough to rival his parallel counterpart.

"No, really though," she added. "I used to think that I couldn't do anything significant or dangerous, but then the Doctor showed me that sometimes we have to get out of our comfort zone and just do it, 'cause no one else will."

"Bravery wouldn't save you from the vortex, Rose." He turned to the diagnostic panel and plugged in his screwdriver. "You're a complicated event in time and space. There's got to be more to it than that."

Rose peered over his shoulder as the results flashed on screen. "Well what's it say then?"

He sighed. "Normal, all of it—blood pressure, heart rate, biological functions. Everything is within range. It says you're completely human."

"'Cause I am."

"I'm not so sure." He yanked his screwdriver from the input port and tinkered with the settings. "Tell me about that day you became Bad Wolf. What do you remember?"

"Not much. It's like it's locked away from my memories. What's it matter anyhow?"

"Because any normal human would be aged into dust in an instant under the power of the vortex, yet here you stand."

"Blimey."

"My point exactly." With the sonic pressed to his ear, he slowly swiveled the ring around the upper shaft until he heard a click. "You didn't just create an alter ego, Rose. You literally set up the creation of your own existence. You created Bad Wolf; Bad Wolf created Rose Tyler. It's all an impossible paradox." And if they were lucky, a paradox that might just be strong enough to pull of another impossible feat.

Rose crossed her arms along her chest. "Wouldn't I know something like that though? I mean, if I were created by some all-knowing entity? I'm just an average girl who was above average for a short time. I feel completely normal now."

He slapped his screwdriver and the light blinked back on, raking across her leather jacket. "Let me put it another way. You said you've been striding through parallel after parallel. Have you run into yourself in any other reality?"

"Well, no but …" She scratched at her chin. "Huh. Never thought about it before, but you're right. I haven't."

"See? You're dimensionally-centric, exclusive to one reality. Not just anyone is dimensionally-centric. It goes against the laws of quantum multiplicity."

Rose leaned back against the dash and folded her arms. "Where's all this coming from?"

His gaze dropped to his polished shoes. "The compounds, we don't have enough."

"But, I thought you said—"

"Yes, I started particle fusion while you were asleep, even programmed the TARDIS to run the molecular bombardments around the clock, but it won't matter. We'll only have enough for one." He slipped his sonic into his inner breast pocket.

"Bad Wolf can't help us, you know," Rose said softly. "It almost killed me. He regenerated for goodness' sake. I couldn't bear to see that happened to you too."

"I'll be careful, I promise." He stepped toward her. "Just let me look in your mind. There's a chance I could communicate telepathically."

Rose raised her chin in a manner that preemptively ended any further argument. "No, it's too big of a risk, for both of us."

Wonderful. Option three was out, unless …

He turned back to the console. "Forget I mentioned it," he said as he keyed in new coordinates into the spacial location input. "What do you say to a new destination while we wait for those particles?"

"Victor …" The intonation in her voice raised in pitch. "What are you planning? Anything to do with Bad Wolf is bad news, and you promised you wouldn't challenge the laws of time."

He pulled down the time lever. "Funny, I don't actually recall making that promise. That was an assumption on your part." And a rather naive one at that.

Rose reached out and clasped his wrist. "Then promise now." Her voice cut above the noise of the pumping rotor, clear and strong. "Promise me you won't do anything rash."

He stared into her dark, wide eyes. "The only thing I will promise you is that I will do everything in my power to keep you in my life, Rose."

She jerked back her hand as though she'd been shocked. "This isn't just about us, Victor. There's so much more at stake."

It was like listening to the Doctor all over again. "You think I don't know that?" he said with more sharpness than he intended.

"Then why risk it?"

"Rose, you assume I care about everything else and that's a dangerous assumption." He closed the space between them. "I only care about one thing."

The rotor stilled. Rose looked away. "You know, this isn't gonna work if you don't at least try to be a better person."

He rubbed at his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides. "Well, it's not like there's a switch I can just flip."

"I thought you were different."

"I am." He raked his hand through his hair. "Look I'm trying. It's just—"

An alert emanated from the console. Now what? He circled around to the communications panel.

Rose leaned on her hand to get a better view of the monitor. "What is it?"

"Just what we need—solar anomalies galore. Looks like Junnis Clave is about to be hit by a massive solar flare and coronal mass ejection."

"Well," said Rose as she glanced up at him, "now's your chance to care."


	12. Chapter 12

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>**2**

Each step felt like wading through nearly-set concrete. Mud oozed up into his trousers and shoes, squishing between his toes as he trudged, one foot in front of the other. He swayed in place, then stabbed the muck with the first leg of the tripod. A slight burning sensation spread up to his knees and stung at his nose as he squinted in the dim light.

The things he did for her.

"Ugh," Rose said behind him as she forced the door shut with her hip. "That's all we need, mud in the TARDIS."

As if on cue, the wooden blue box sank into the marshland, filth squelching and bubbling up around it. It settled at an angle, resting on what must have been some hidden rock or stump.

Rose steadied herself against the door, clutched an armful of equipment to her chest. "Why didn't you pick a better place to land? You had the entire planet to choose from and we end up here, smack-dab in the middle of the bog of eternal stench."

"It's not my fault." He crammed the last tripod leg into the socket and it gave a satisfying click. "The solar storm messed with the terrain readings. We're lucky we didn't end up falling from the sky."

She tip-toed toward him. "Why did we come here anyway?"

"Why not? Told you I wanted to visit."

"Yeah, but you don't just go places for the fun of it. You must have a reason." She struggled to balance the generator on top of the stand, conduits spilling over the side like flailing tentacles.

He lunged to catch them and draped them over the top with care. Having half the planet fried by the solar flare because of a wet wire was the last thing they needed.

"Wait a minute," Rose said. "Junnis Clave has all that telepathic technology, yeah?"

"That's right." He patted his jacket for his screwdriver. Light, they needed light.

"Please tell me this has nothing to do with Bad Wolf."

His shoulders tensed as the bulb at the end of his sonic flickered on. He could feel her eyes burning into him, but he didn't dare look up.

"You brought me here to test it on me, didn't you?" she asked.

"Just wanted to find some answers," he said as innocently as he could manage. "Keep all of our options open."

"And here I was thinking you were trying to do something good for a change."

"Rose, I'm standing knee deep in sludge, rigging a shield generator to save an entire planet from a solar storm. You think this isn't going above and beyond for me? Yes, perhaps I had ulterior motives, but—"

"Well, you shouldn't have lied to get me here."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't mention why."

"Same thing."

"Hardly."

She huffed. "Just say you're sorry."

He trained the blue beam onto her face. "Say sorry?"

"Yeah," she said as she blinked up at him. "It's not that hard of a concept."

"But I'd be lying because I'm not sorry, and didn't you just say you don't condone lying?" He lowered the light back onto the mess.

"Don't get smart with me." Rose yanked the wire from the top of the pile and shoved it into a slot. "You never ruddy apologize for anything. Sometimes I wish you could be more like …"

His fingernails dug against the cool metal of his screwdriver, and he couldn't stop the bitterness from edging into his voice. "Like that precious Doctor of yours?"

Her grip on the next tube slackened, but she didn't deny it.

"What brand of toothpaste does he use?" he asked. "Perhaps I ought to switch. Have I got my hair just right?"

"That's not—"

"But it is, isn't it? That's what this has been all about—turning me into a better man, or rather one specific man."

A bright flash careened across the sky, pulling his attention upward. Streams of red, green, and purple coiled and danced through the gaps between the thick branches overhead. "Auroras," he said. "It's started."

"Are we too late?"

"No, this is just the light show. It's the combo you've got to worry about. The coronal mass ejection is still on the way."

"And you're sure this is gonna work?"

"Of course." He twisted a wire into place. "Might look knocked together, but the engineering is sound. One of these on each side of the planet and the extrapolator shielding will be more than enough to protect the magnetosphere."

Rose nodded and steadied the tripod. Neither spoke as he soldered the connections with his screwdriver.

"Look," she said after a moment, "I'm sorry if—"

"Don't be. Apologizing is overrated anyhow."

She reached out and touched his sleeve. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest."

Still didn't make it any better. How could he ever hope to fit the snug mold left by his predecessor? That confounded man who'd forevermore be the baseline for any and all further comparison?

He flipped the switch on the shield generator and banged the side. Nothing. "Blasted thing. Must be interference from the solar storm." With one more thwap, the generator wheezed to life like a mechanical asthmatic.

Light exploded from the top, launching into the upper atmosphere. A liquescent film mushroomed out from the center and stirred up the smell of clay and ionized air as it rushed past, covering the marshland with an unearthly green tinge.

"Now what?" Rose asked.

"Now we wait for a lull in the storm, then pop over to the other side of the planet and do the same thing all over again."

"Great. Well I'm not standing here the whole time." Rose plodded toward a dead tree peeking out from the mud.

He forged after her, thick black soup sloshing in his wake. He hoisted himself onto the trunk beside her and wiped his palms just above the mud-line on his trousers. Disgusting.

"What, no witty comment on the composition of wet dirt?" she asked.

He didn't answer. A vine swayed ahead and something splashed into the muck—some unseen beneficiary of their heroic efforts.

"You're brooding," said Rose.

He readjusted his position on the trunk. "Am not." Why must she keep using that nettlesome mood-sensing ability of hers? Sometimes it felt like she was the telepathic one.

"You're quieter than him, but never this quiet." Her voice softened. "Is this about before? Look I—"

"Don't worry about it." He broke off a rotted branch and lobbed it into the mud.

"You don't have to shut me out you know. You can tell me anything, anything at all." She scooted next to him. "Talk to me."

"All right, fine. How do you think this ends? You'll go back to him, and I'll just …" He shook his head. "I'm just a means to an end, a side project to keep you occupied until the real thing comes along."

Rose covered his hand with hers. "No, that's not—you're not a means to an end. You never were."

"Really? Because it feels that way. You have to understand, this is my life, Rose. You are my life now."

Rose looked at him with an unreadable expression, then slowly lowered her gaze. "I know."

"And it's not just that either," he continued. "The walls are stressed. I can feel it. A storm is coming, and I don't know that I can stop us from being torn apart."

Her face darkened as though haunted by some past memory.

He rotated his wrist to cradled her hand in his. "Look, I know you didn't promise me the future, but I need some indication that I didn't give up everything for nothing."

"Thought that'd be obvious by now," she said so quiet the words were barely audible.

"What do you mean?"

She let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, and shook her head at the sky. "What do you mean, what do I mean? I've been breaking my own rules for you left and right since I got here. I knew I shouldn't get involved with you from the beginning. You wove yourself so deeply into history, the threat of disruption to the causal nexus was massive but …" She stared off into the moss-laden trees.

"You did it anyway," he said for her.

"Truth is, I shoulda stopped this a long time ago. I just couldn't. For years I've been slipping below the surface, kicking so hard to stay ahead of the darkness. You're like a breath of fresh air." Her gaze finally found him. Even in the twilight he could see something honest and heartfelt sparkling her eyes. "And whatever happens, I want you to know I wouldn't change this time with you for the world."

Rose inched closer, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. She gently nudged her nose against his, warm air smelling of mint skimming across his face. His pulse blurred into one continuous hum. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in.

But it wasn't right. He pulled back. "I—I can't."

The glimmer in her eyes extinguished. "Why not?"

"Because, you don't see me. You see through me." He swallowed hard. "You want the Doctor. I remind you of him, with his face, his screwdriver, and his TARDIS. As much as I want this, I can't be nothing but a facade for a memory."

Rose shook her head. "That's not—"

"Can you honestly tell me you would feel the same way if I didn't look like him? Truly?"

She glanced at her hands.

Just as he suspected. "I can't expect you to separate your feelings for him from me after knowing me only a few days. These things take time—I understand that."

"Really? 'Cause a second ago it sounded like you were trying to guilt me into commitment. You need to make up your mind."

"That's not what I am asking for at all." He let out a breath of exasperation and rubbed the back of his neck. This wasn't coming out right. "Look, I want you to be with me because of me, not your feelings for someone else, and I haven't done anything to earn that from you, not yet, but I will." He brushed her knuckles with his fingertips. "Just promise when the time comes you'll give me a chance, an honest, proper chance, and I promise to do everything in my power to be worthy to stand by your side. Can you do that?"

Blonde hair crowded his vision, her arms tight across his back. "I'll be waiting," she said into his shoulder.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. No more scans. Whatever mysteries lay locked inside her, there they'd stay.

He jerked back, clutching her shoulders. "How daft am I? All those scans and I never thought to scan myself." He vaulted to his feet and tugged her so hard to her feet she almost lost her footing. "Come on, up you pop."

He plodded toward the TARDIS, then anchored his feet in a wide stance and heaved the doors open. Sludge slopped through the grated floor just over the threshold, trickling through the metal floor joists. Wonderful. He'd worry about the nightmarish mess later.

He bounded toward the console, pecked at the keyboard, and then stepped back, screwdriver in hand. Blue light raked along his body, down to his sopping feet and back up.

The results appeared next to the data already on file for comparison, two translucent blue diagrams of his body rotating on screen. He put on his glasses and leaned in.

How bizarre. Hundreds of newly-formed neuro pathways had somehow appeared in his prefrontal cortex. The sound of labored breathing behind him finally registered. He turned.

Rose stood with her arms tucked tight against her chest as gobs of mud sloughed off her shoes. Behind her the door had closed, though judging by the mud which now ran up to her thighs and smeared over the door handle, it had been quite the battle.

"Oh, don't mind me," she said with a voice dripping in sarcasm. "Took care of the door for you. It was no problem." He opened his mouth but she held up a soiled hand. "It's okay. I know better than to expect an apology."

"But take a look at this," he said with a point toward the monitor. "My brain appears to be in some sort of genesis state of neuroplasticity."

Rose strode forward, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I majored in engineering, not neurosurgery."

"It means that there's unmistakable evidence of empathy where there was none before." He pointed to the scan. "See? Look at all that limbic activation in the amygdala."

"You think it could be related to the regeneration?" she asked. "I know you said you didn't change until after, but one time the Doctor grew a new hand a whole day after he'd regenerated."

"Of course!" He spun around and slapped himself on the forehead. "Rose Tyler you are brilliant. That night on the balcony when we kissed we connected telepathically. I felt your empathy, empathy that my brain, magnanimous though it was, couldn't process. It used the lingering regeneration energy in my system to jump-start a firestorm of neural pathway formation to process the emotions and wham!" He clapped, causing her to jump. "Suddenly I can feel everything you can."

"You're saying, I did this?" She turned to study the screen.

"That you did," he said as he rocked on his heels, arms clasped behind his back. "You imprinted your humanity onto me."

Rose rolled her lips inward as if to stifle a smug smile. "So I was right. I'm just human after all. Bad Wolf had nothing to do with it."

"All right, fine. Yes, you were. We didn't need to come here after all. Happy?"

She glanced at her nails. "Not quite an apology, but I'll take it."

"Well don't gloat for too long. As soon as we get a window, we need to set up the other shield generator before the CME hits, so if you want to wash up, do it quick."

"CME?" she asked. "Oh right, coronal mass ejection. Got it. I'll be quick." She gave him a mock salute and walked down the ramp.

As the sound of footsteps receded behind him, he couldn't stop the concern from pooling in his gut. If Rose was right and Bad Wolf couldn't help them, option one and three were both out.

And that meant they were running out of options fast.


	13. Chapter 13

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

"How long have we got?" Rose asked him twenty minutes later, stringing her damp hair through her fingers.

They stepped over the mess at the threshold and onto rolling fields of golden, downy grass. The sky was vibrant and pink, the sun almost low enough to touch the silhouette of mountains in the distance. Seas of people dressed in white sat equidistant from one another, heads bowed in meditation, tiny silver electrodes on either side of their temples. Children frolicked between the rows, laughing and chasing one another.

He felt it at once—peace and serenity seeping into his subconscious. How had he once referred to it? Applied telepathy to 'lower cognitive function' and 'spike neurotransmitters'? Now that he experienced it for himself, his description hardly seemed adequate. No doubt it was stimulating more pathway formation in his brain. Bit by bit, he would become more empathetic until he was unrecognizable.

"Victor?" Rose asked.

He blinked back the sting in his eyes. "Hm?"

"I said, how long until the CME gets here?"

He cleared his throat. "Thirty minutes, give or take."

"We have to warn them."

"Right."

Something tugged at his trousers. A young boy looked up at him, pint-sized and pale-haired with rosy cheeks as pink as the sky. He knelt down. "Hello there."

The child didn't speak but reached up to wipe his cheek. Moisture beaded at his tiny fingertip.

A tear? Did that really just come from him?

The boy stared at the globule as if he'd never seen such a thing. Not surprising. He'd wager none of them had ever known conflict or death. Without prompting, the boy settled onto his knee and wrapped his small arms around his neck as if to offer him solace.

Such innocence. And to think, not five days before he conspired to destroy this child's perfect world and leave him destitute and starving—just as he had been so long ago. His throat tightened and he pulled the child to him as if reaching across the expanse of time to comfort his seven-year-old self. "I am _so _sorry."

Never again. No one would ever hurt him, or any of them. He would spend the rest of his days protecting people from what he used to be. Fate willing, he would visit every single one of his conquests and make things right.

Rose laid a hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

* * *

><p>Wind rolled across the feathery grass, animating the hillside around him as he lay in the shadow of the assembled shield generator.<p>

"You saved a planet today," Rose said next to him.

"I did."

"How does it feel?"

He inhaled the clean air. "Feels … good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He threaded the golden grass through his fingers, the soft filaments tickling against his skin. "I'll have to come up with something new to call myself now. Victor won't do."

"Any ideas?"

"Not one."

"How about the Mechanic?" she said. "Nah, you're far too posh for that."

"Wait, I've got one." He put on his most serious voice. "The Chemist."

Rose wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like somebody someone would go to for a prescription refill."

"No less so than 'the Doctor'. Don't you find it a tad sanctimonious?"

"Dunno. I always thought the Doctor was a rather generic yet relatable name, engendering feelings of trust and good-will. You should consider it."

He glared sideways at her.

"What?" she asked. "I'm not trying to turn you into him, I swear. It's just a suggestion. Think about it, that's all I'm saying."

Calling himself the Doctor would only make sense if he were capable of engendering trust and good-will, which he wasn't—not in the least. Titles, after all, ought to say something those they represent. "And what makes your Doctor so worthy of such a title anyway? What's he like?"

"He's like you in a lot of ways."

"You mean tall, dark, and devilishly handsome?"

Rose poked her tongue between her smile. "Careful, wouldn't want the planet to explode 'cause your ego gets too amplified."

"I'd be more worried about the combined effect of both our egos. This poor place doesn't stand a chance with the arrival of such an illustrious do-gooder and his"—he quoted the air—"'greatest assistant in all of creation'."

Rose gave him a light swat on the shoulder but chuckled. "Fair enough. I did call myself that."

He rolled onto his elbow and propped up his head. "Really though, tell me about him."

She pursed her lips and squinted at the horizon. "Hard to describe really. He's just the Doctor. Funny, brave, kind. He's got really great hair, and he's an amazing kisser—"

"Okay, you can stop now." He snapped the ends off a handful of grass and crushed them in his palm. If this parallel him was so amazing, how could he ever compare? They'd save the universe and then what? She and her Doctor hook up and it's back home for him, back to an empty TARDIS and no clue what to do with himself.

Better that than waiting around. Having her at arm's length but just out of reach would be unbearable, watching them together—the Doctor's gangly limbs wrapped tight around her, her fingers knotted in his untamed hair. His stomach turned.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"How serious were you two?"

She hesitated. "It's … complicated."

"Complicated? What sort of answer is that?" A non answer—that's what it was.

Rose averted her gaze. "Alright fine, we were never technically together. At least, not in the intimate sense. I think he had some sort of unwritten rule about getting involved with his companions."

"What about all that talk about wit over brawn?" He kept a hint of playful accusation in his voice but felt a tiny flicker of hope.

Her cheeks turned bright crimson. "I was talking about screwdrivers."

"No, you were just trying to wind me up and make me jealous. I know exactly what you were referring to, and it wasn't—"

"Thought we were coming up with names."

"You're deflecting."

"Who's deflecting? You're the one with the sudden identity crisis. Deflecting would be me talking about the weather or something." She looked up at the sun still lingering just above the mountain range. "Blimey, how long does it take for the sun to set here anyhow?"

He grinned. "It won't. The planet has a synchronous rotation meaning the sunset, or sunrise depending on how you look at it, is perpetual. Half the planet is barren desert, the other half frozen tundra. The ring around the edge, where we are, contains ninety percent of the flora and fauna."

"Well it's beautiful."

He stared up at the puffy clouds, such a brilliant shade of fiery orange not even the shield could dim them. "And to think, I wanted to—" The words stuck in his throat. "You're right. After I met you, I was scared I was losing myself, but now my path has never been clearer. I have to help people. I have to mend what I've broken, make amends for my past mistakes, and help the universe heal."

He waited for the quip about her being right about his 'crisis', but it never came. Instead, she stared at him with a peculiar expression, her eyes suspiciously glassy.

"What?" he asked.

"You sound like a Doctor to me," she whispered.

"And what about you, Rose Tyler?"

She shifted onto her side and bunched her jacket up under her head. "What about me?"

"Why are you doing all of this? The traveling and the helping people?"

"Guess it's just who I am now. All that time with him changed me."

"And all that parallel travel, is it for the greater good, or are you just trying to get back to that man with a box who swept you off your feet?"

"I'd be doing this regardless." Her voice took on a slight defensive tone. "I've got a family you know, a little brother, cutest thing you ever did see."

Family? He'd spent so much time stewing over the Doctor, he'd never given thought to the possibility that she might have other people in her life. "I don't understand. If you have a family how could you leave them behind when you might not ever see them again?"

"Couldn't very well let the darkness take them now, could I? Sometimes you have to do what's best for those you care about even if that means you can't be with them anymore."

There she went, sounding like the Doctor again, all selfless and sacrificial like a proper disciple. It was a wonder the man didn't call himself the Saint.

"What about you?" she asked. "What made you into Victor?"

He let out a long sigh and thought back. "If I had to pick the start of it, I'd probably say the day the Daleks first came."

"At the start of the time war, you mean?"

He nodded. "It was a perfectly ordinary afternoon like this—a red sky instead of pink, silver leaves instead of gold. I was just a child."

"I remember," she said softly. "I saw in your head. They killed your parents, then you got sent to that awful place. How could your own people do that to you?"

He shrugged. "Orphans were routinely shuffled into military training camps to bolster their numbers. There was no one to miss us, no one to protest us being conditioned into weapons and sent to the front lines. "

Her dark brows pinched together. "What did you do?"

"I endured." He could still see the flashes, smell the acrid stench of smoke and burnt flesh, feel the throbbing in his ears as explosions burst around him. "Survivors with potential were put through the military academy," he went on. "I was one of the lucky few, their star pupil, even pretended to name myself Victor in honor of 'the cause'. After graduation I cut loose, conquering everything in sight until I could strike back at the council for what they did. But the war only got worse. So worse, no lengths became too abhorrent if it meant putting an end to the bloodshed."

"Lemme guess," said Rose, "they asked you for help."

"Can you believe it? They offered me, the worst war criminal in history, a full pardon in exchange for heading their battalion." He stretched himself out and clasped his hands behind his head. "Oh, I gave them spectacular theatrics; defeated the nightmare child, sent the first seven waves of the Dalek fleet crawling back, but control was the end goal. I wanted Gallifrey and the title of supreme ruler. Rassilon however, was no easy target. He went mad and tried to end the war by dissolving everything into energy. I stopped him, but barely. "

Rose frowned. "How?"

"I used a weapon. I didn't want to. I—" Guilt flared in his gut, and he shifted onto his stomach as if to snuff out the sensation. "It was either destroy the planet or let Rassilon destroy everything in his mad scheme. Ultimately my hand was forced, but in the process I became the last, the Time Lord Victorious."

"But your home world," she said, her voice so hushed it was almost a whisper.

He picked at the ochre-colored dirt hiding under the thick turf. "At the time no price was too steep for victory, but if I could go back, perhaps I would have done things differently."

"Musta been hard. And to lose both your parents like that at such a young age, I can't imagine."

A delighted squeal yanked his attention upward and the boy from before hurried past, his bare little feet skipping as he went. "And I would have only continued the cycle if you hadn't come into my life," he said as he watched the child twirl, the sleeves of his white linen tunic billowing in the wind.

Rose moved into a seated position and intertwined her fingers with his. "You never have to be that again."

He caught a whiff of her familiar tangy scent. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Rose bit the edge of her bottom lip. "I 'spose."

"What do you put in your hair? I can't identify the fragrance and it's driving me mad."

"That's your personal question? Strawberry shampoo, you daft alien." She poked him in the side, but he caught her hand, sending her off balance and into the grass.

"Now now, Rose Tyler, you ought to know better than to attempt a surprise attack on the likes of me."

"You tosser!" She pushed herself back up and tickled along his sides. "Rule three, no cheating."

He thrashed, involuntary laughter spilling from his lips.

"Ha," she shouted in triumph. "Totally ticklish. Not so high and mighty now, are you?"

He swept his arm under her and she fell on top of him with an 'oomph'. The sunlight glistened off the flyaway strands of her nearly-dry hair, giving her a divine glow—as though Bad Wolf herself had come to grace him with her company. How could being with her be so much like breathing? So effortless and yet so vital? He was so far gone now.

Or maybe it was those darn telepathic amplifiers.

He instinctively lowered his gaze to her lips and she licked them. His pulse quickened, pounding so hard against his chest she must have noticed, but then her eyes listed as if she suddenly realized something. She slid off him and rolled onto her back.

Time, right. He found her hand and they fell into comfortable silence, watching the slow-passing clouds overhead.

"Victor?" Rose called from beside him.

"Hm?"

"I think it's a sunrise, not a sunset."

He smiled up at the endless pink sky. "Quite right, Rose Tyler. Quite right."


	14. Chapter 14

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

He took a broad step into the TARDIS a few hours later, careful to avoid the mess still slopped at the threshold.

"So what do I call you now?" Rose asked as she followed, her jacket thudding onto the rail behind him. "You never said."

"Dunno." He hurried up the ramp to check on the results on the screen. Excellent; the particles were done. Time for sublimation. He cracked his knuckles and let his hands fly across the keyboard.

A shadow darkened the controls. Rose stood next to him, holding up her mobile phone with a you've-done-something-naughty look on her face. "Been going through my stuff, have you?"

He winced. "Now be fair. You can't fault me for wanting to test out the new hardware. You practically asked me to with the way you carried on about sonic technology."

She turned the mobile over in her hand, hunting for evidence of tampering. "Fess up. What have you done to it?"

"Nothing dangerous, promise. Just maximized the signal output."

Her eyes widened and she flexed her fingers around the plastic casing as if suddenly afraid it might slip from her grasp and be lost forever. "Does that mean I can call the Doctor now?" she asked in a breathy voice.

Guilt settled inside him, too uncomfortable and tight for his thin frame. "Not exactly—"

A small glass tube lifted out of the fabrication panel with a hiss.

"What's that?" She put her phone away and walked toward it.

"That," he said as he positioned his glasses on his nose, "is your trininum gas."

"It's ready?"

"Yep," he said with a pop of the 'p'. He moved around her and held up the beaker in the light of the time rotor, gold vapor swirling inside.

"Yield looks good, color looks right on." Rose squeezed his shoulder. "We did it."

"Don't celebrate yet. We only have enough for one. Now hand me a needle, will you?" He pointed underneath the console. "Should be in a drawer just under there." A moment later he felt a plastic handle nudge against his palm.

While holding the beaker steady, he pierced the thin, rubbery cap at the top and the syringe filled with gas. Rose laid the dimension cannon on the dashboard and he injected the gas into the inner shell of the disc. "There we are," he said as he twisted the dial at the top. "Fully ionized thermal plasma."

"Thirty minutes to charge, you said?"

He put on his most smug smirk. "If you weren't in a TARDIS, perhaps. You lot insist on punching holes through realities to create time energy, but TARDISes come by it naturally." He plugged the disc back into the console. "A quick trip through the vortex and we'll be all charged and ready to go."

Rose stuck her tongue out between her teeth, but a smile tugged at her eyes. "What did I say about rule three and cheating?"

"It's not cheating," he said as he toggled the power cue. "Using one's available resources is simply being prudent." He threw down the lever.

The floor beneath him lurched, forcing him to latch onto the railing as the dimension cannon spun across the floor. What on Gallifrey? Did the stabilizers get off-kilter? The clash of breaking glass below overpowered the grind of the time rotor. That would be the workstation—as if his control room weren't already a disaster.

"Rough right this time 'round," Rose said as she gripped the dash next to him.

The ship pitched to the right. He braced against the controls, scouring the array of panels and notches for anything amiss. "This doesn't make sense. I activated the automatic power cue to smooth the flight. I even set the ship to soft land. We must be experiencing vortex turbulence of some kind."

As if to validate his hypothesis, the ship plummeted and flung him to the floor. Pain spread along the back of his skull as a sparkling crimson haze enveloped the room. Above the throb in his ears, he heard the wail of an alarm, then nothing; the ship had stilled.

Rose cursed from somewhere to his left. "Turbulence my rear. Ugh, my head."

He pulled himself to his feet and staggered toward her sprawled form. The hem of her plum blouse had crept up past her navel, her hair splayed across the grating. "You all right?" he asked her.

"'M fine," she muttered as he hoisted her up. "What happened?"

"We've landed."

She yanked her shirt down. "Yeah, I gathered that much, Sherlock. Where?"

"No idea." He darted toward the navigation panel and scanned the monitor. "Looks like we're in the outer universe. The emergency landing protocol must have activated before the computer could finish plotting the flight vectors." He twisted the viewscreen toward him. "Something created a huge time distortion in the lower quadrant of the universe. Must be why we were spit out." He tapped the controls to reset the vectors. "That's bizarre."

"What?"

"I can't access the vortex." He tapped again. "It's almost like it's been … corrupted."

"What, like a computer file?" she asked.

"Right. Delete a few lines of code and file becomes unreadable, and the vortex—"

"Delete?" Rose rushed toward the doors and tugged them open. Stars dotted the expanse, a million pinpricks of light all glimmering contently until one in the far corner went dark, then another. "It's here," she whispered.

Red saturated the chamber once more but without the aid of a blow to the head. The cloister bell tolled, sonorous and mournful. Each gong reverberated through the floor straight up into his chest like the striking of a clock at the midnight hour.

No.

He ran toward the open doors and caught himself on the edge of the door frame. One by one, stars blinked out until darkness consumed half the sky. His legs fastened in place.

Fingernails dug into his arm. "Move the TARDIS, now!" Rose yelled into his ear.

Metal clattered under his feet as he ran, his pulse hammering against the sore spot at the back of his head. "All I can do is a quick transference jump, but that won't get us far. We just dematerialized. We're not at full power yet."

"Just do it!" she said as she slammed the doors.

He pounded a random set of coordinates into the computer, activated every power boosting maneuver he could think of, and yanked down the lever.

The transference jump was almost instantaneous. No dematerialization, no vortex, no turbulence. Just silence.

"Did we move?" She eyed the dome as if half-expecting the room to dissolve.

He entered a few commands into the keyboard to confirm. "Yes. We're in the next quadrant over, but without the vortex we're crippled, stuck in this time period."

Rose trained her dark eyes on him, her face sapped of color. Without a word, she picked up her navy jacket from the floor and threw it over her shoulders.

The sound of zipping doused him with cold. "Rose—"

She strode to the other side of the time rotor, her face a mask of detachment, and retrieved the dimension cannon from the floor.

His feet were moving before he could think. "Rose, wait."

Hair obscured her face as she hooked the cannon onto her belt with a shaking hand. "We don't have time to wait. I have to get back and regroup with Torchwood and stop this crap once and for all."

The air in the room compressed. "But you can't go."

She snapped her head up, her eyes moist but fierce. "Don't you see? It's the only thing I can do."

"Just stop and think for a minute—"

"I've waited as long as I can! Years, I've been chased by this ruddy thing for years." She squeezed her eyes shut, then blew out a long breath as if to gather herself. "I don't wanna go, and if I could split myself in two to be with you I would, but I can't let you be dissolved." Her eyelids opened, the teal reflection of the time rotor swimming inside her dark pupils. "I care too much about you to let that happen."

Pain, fear, and panic billowed up in him, each swell of emotion muddling into the next. "Please, I—I just need a little time to try one last thing. It'll take days for the darkness to consume everything anyway. There's no rush."

Her gaze drifted toward the doors. "But all those people out there—"

He snatched up her hands and rotated her to the side. "Time will rewrite itself. As soon as we sort it, everything will be restored, like a system reboot."

"But … if everything is gonna revert what about you? Everything we've done?" Deep creases formed across her forehead. "Will that all … revert?"

A stab of sympathy twisted inside him. "No, everything will reset to the moment the darkness first appeared, which is now. The TARDIS should shield me from the effects." He tightened his grip on her hands. "But if you leave I can't stop the cracks from sealing behind you. We will never see each other again."

Rose blinked back a fresh wave of tears.

"There is another way," he said with gaining speed. "I can cross my own timeline and tell myself to start the synthesis process earlier. I can make another cannon and go with you. It'll rewrite everything."

She yanked from his grasp. "That will cause a paradox, and you can't travel back in time anyway. The vortex is down."

"Yes, but the dimension cannon doesn't rely on the vortex. If we wire the cannon into the TARDIS mainframe we can bypass the vortex entirely."

She shook her head. "Rule two, remember? I've seen the aftermath of paradoxes and I never want to see it again. Besides, you're not just risking this world. All of creation could fall apart. You can't."

He gently tipped her chin upward. "But we've not even started, you and I. Isn't that worth fighting for?"

She covered his hand, her warmth seeping into his skin. "This isn't just about you and me, remember?"

Even as he held her, he felt her slipping away. He looped his finger through a stray bang that had wiggled free of her hairpin and tucked it behind her ear. Something hot stuck to his fingertips. "Rose, you're bleeding."

"Really?" She pressed her fingers into her scalp and winced. "Oh, it's not that bad. I'll be fine."

The sonic cooed as he focused the beam onto her pupils. "Any pain? Difficulty concentrating?"

"Only when there's a light shining in my face."

"Rose—"

"I can handle a little headache." She rubbed her face. Mascara smeared into the sunken circles below her eyes, accentuating the purplish hue.

"You need rest."

"A couple of paracetamol and I'll be right as rain."

He touched her shoulder. "Go and take a minute. I'm sure there's some stocked in the kitchen somewhere."

"I can't, not with everything going on—"

"Might as well. You can't go anywhere for half an hour anyway. The cannon never had a chance to charge."

She dropped her head in what was either a resigned nod or just plain exhaustion and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Be back soon." She shuffled toward the corridor.

"Oh, and Rose?" he called in a casual tone.

"Hm?"

"Can I see the dimension cannon? I need to double check and make sure it's in working order … just in case."

Her half-lidded gaze roamed over him for a moment, but she handed it over. "It'll be okay, you know," she said quietly. "We'll figure a way through this, together."

"I hope so."

She turned to walk down the hallway once more.

"Take your time," he called as she disappeared from view.

He hurried back to the console and hooked the cannon back up to the tiny port. A spray of white sparks ejected from the dashboard and the safety protocols flashed on the screen.

"I'm well aware of the dangers, thank you," he said as he whacked the time rotor, "but we haven't got long and we're out of options. If we're going to make this work, you've got to become a paradox machine."

The TARDIS shuddered under his touch and the room once more took on a blood-red hue.


	15. Chapter 15

This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

"Blasted alarms!" He silenced the cloister bell with a press of a button. "Yelling at me isn't going to stop me." In less than ten minutes her dimension cannon would be charged and she'd be gone. He couldn't allow it.

A low rumble shook the chamber. The ghostly image of his previous control room flashed around him as if super-imposed over an old photo. Wisps of stonework and high ceilings inlaid with filigree faded into industrial tubes and wires.

"Come on, come on, come on," he said as the ship rocked. A formless black shadow appeared beside him but vanished a second later. "No, don't do that." He twisted a knob and banged the gravatic anomalizer. "Can't you see I'm shorting out the time differential on purpose?"

The TARDIS groaned, metal joints and structures creaking under the strain. Wasn't just his past self fighting him; his TARDIS was fighting too, even time itself, but he wasn't willing to lose, not if the cost was her.

White marble replaced the grated floors for half a second, then phased out. He cursed.

Even if he was successful, going with her was only half the battle. He still had to win her over, and what redeeming qualities did he have that could compare to that Doctor of hers?

Not one.

It didn't have to be that way. Why not make everything right—stop himself after the academy, force himself to choose a different path? He could erase Victor from the equation entirely, even save Gallifrey. He could be every bit the man the Doctor was and more if he just went back a little further …

Though the alarms had stopped, a new warning blared in his head. His hands stalled at the controls. This was type of sin the high council granted the death penalty for.

So? No council left to condemn him now. Time was his to command and his alone.

"What on Earth?" Rose barreled in, her arms out as if to steady herself. She gawked at the specter-like surroundings. "What's happened? What's going on?"

He gritted his teeth and set the timeline back further. Another jolt.

"Oh, my gosh. You're doing it, aren't you?" she asked. "You're trying to cross your own timeline."

He bashed the anomalizer back into place with a mallet. "I can do it. I know I can."

Rose rushed forward. "Stop! You're gonna blow a hole in the space-time continuum."

He twisted the gyroscope of the gravatic stablizer and tried again. The entire metal chamber reverberated with a bang as the main doors jolted free of the latch. "He was wrong," he muttered to himself. "I can fix this. I can fix everything."

"Who was wrong? What are you talking about?"

No sense in keeping it secret any longer. "Rose, there's something you should know. The Doctor, we spoke."

"You what?" Her eyes flew as wide as her mouth, then her dark brows slanted into a scowl. "When? How? Why didn't you let me talk to him?"

He fought the urge to cringe. "You were asleep, and I didn't tell you because I couldn't let myself believe what he had to say—that I had to let you go or risk disrupting fixed events." He shook his head. "I won't let him take you from me."

"What, am I some game to you now?" she shouted above the noise. "Is winning so ruddy important?"

"It's so much more than that, Rose. Don't you see? I can rewrite my own story. Victor need never have existed. I can be better for you, for everyone I've ever hurt."

"But I cared for Victor. He's made you into what you are. You can't take the easy way out. Not now." She reached out and touched his sleeve. "Earlier you said you wanted to heal the universe. That was a Doctor speaking. You're not Victor anymore. Please don't do this."

His fingers twitched on the throttle. "I can't lose you."

Tears leaked down her cheek and pooled at her chin. "If you do this, you will." Though her voice cracked, her face was as rigid as stone.

"Rose …" This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She couldn't—not now. They were so close.

He glanced at his hand still clasped around the lever, then looked at the destruction around him. Frayed conduits swayed from the ceiling, shards of glass riddled the muddy floor, the lab below a jumbled heap. Was it really just hours ago he swore to protect the universe? Now look at him, just as much a threat as the darkness itself.

He pried his fingers from the bar. "I—I didn't mean … Oh, Rose." She pulled him into a tight hug and he wrapped his arms around her. "I just wanted to be the man you deserve," he said into her ear.

"And now you are." She pulled back just enough to look at him. "'Cause it takes a great man to give up that kind of power. I've always known it was in you. I know you think I was projecting, but I don't see through you. I saw inside you, remember? Everything that you were and are, and you've come further than anyone I've ever known, just as I knew you could."

His vision blurred. Warmth flared in his core and chased down his limbs. Everything about this woman was impossible, from her very existence to her irrational faith in him. He wanted so bad to believe her.

A wave of nausea slammed into him. He sagged into her as cold sweat trickled down his neck.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked as she struggled to hold up his weight.

The lingering smell of leather nearly undid him. "T—time is wrong. Everything's snapping, timestreams and eddies. It's like …" He tried to steady himself but doubled over as another wave sent the world spinning.

The heavy gong of the cloister bell once more filled the dome. Instinct drew his gaze up to the open doors and he nearly lost his balance. The night sky was mangled. Streams of light where stars had been were knotted in the sky like some horrific special effect, as though everything had been smeared and stirred together. All the sweat on him froze.

Rose followed his gaze and clapped a hand to her mouth. "That's not the darkness."

He stumbled past her toward the console. A new warning flashed on the screen. "No."

"What is it?" Rose asked.

He grabbed the monitor. "The darkness had already fractured the universe when I shorted out the time differential. The force of both must have been too much. Everything it's … it's shattering, Rose. Remember when I said we had days before the darkness consumed everything?"

She nodded but a new fear lurked in her eyes.

"Now that the universe is collapsing, we have minutes."

* * *

><p>Not even proper seconds ticked by as he stared at the flashing glyph. He could feel it, the disconnect between the illusion of time sustained by the TARDIS and the rest of the universe as it crumpled in agony. Time was dead. He'd destroyed it like everything else he managed to touch—every life that ever was or would be now lost to the chaos, and with them, his chance with Rose.<p>

A new wave of sick that had nothing to do with his time sense threatened to force its way up, along with something else. He gritted his teeth and fought the bizarre urge to laugh.

"Are you alright?" Rose asked.

Surely there was humor to be found in it all—the irony that a Time Lord could fall victim to the old self-fulfilling prophecy trap. Reverse causality at its finest. He dropped his gaze and found he was still clenching the monitor, knuckles white and veins bulging.

A tremor shook the controls. Wires clanged against the time column, but it was the other Doctor's words which rang like a shot in his ears: _You can't change it. Not without catastrophic repercussions. _

Catastrophic. Repercussions.

"Please," said Rose. "You're scaring me."

And the part that he found most tragic was not that everything was breaking apart around him, but that he extinguished his chance with Rose the moment he tried his mad scheme. By trying to avoid the future, he'd secured it.

As a result, that made things simple. Very very simple.

A weight rested on his arm. "What do we do?" Rose asked.

Without meeting her gaze, he stepped around her and grabbed the dimension cannon off the floor. "You've got to go without me," he said as he strapped it to her belt.

"I can't leave you here, not now. Why can't we split the dialectic gas between the two devices? It won't get us all the way back to my universe, but it'll tide us over until we can make more."

He dusted off her jacket and feigned a matter-of-fact tone. "If we spit the gas between us we won't have enough power to punch through the walls of reality. At best, we'll land in the middle of nothing. At worse, we'll scatter ourselves into atoms upon reentry."

"Is there no other way?" she asked so softly he was forced to look at her.

His insides pinched at her pained expression. "Only one thing can save us now." He grasped her shoulders. "Your departure will trigger a complete reboot. You've got to go on and stop this thing from erasing world after world. You can save us all. Your family needs you. He needs you."

"I need you," she whispered.

He ground his teeth with the effort of maintaining a neutral expression. "But you don't, Rose. You never did. I was the one who needed you. You helped me and made me better. Now you're meant to move on."

The cannon clattered to the floor. "Don't say that."

"You told me that sometimes we have to do what's best for those we care about, even if that means we can't be with them anymore." He molded his hand to the curve of her cheek. "I think finally understand that now—"

"Don't." Her eyes misted over.

—"and if I go with you I could never fix everything I've broken, all the lives I've wrecked across the centuries. I have to stay and be a Doctor, be the man you deserve even if I can't have you."

Something in her watery eyes shifted. She pushed herself up on her toes and captured his lips with her own.

She tasted of lip balm, tangy with a hint of mint, so delicious he'd never get enough. Everything coiled inside him unleashed and he kissed her back, hard. She responded in kind, all roaming hands and trailing fingernails, first in his scalp, then down his back and up again. Each spot she touched ignited his sensory synapses and sent him further into frenzy, more desperate to cling to her warmth. And if this was their final moment together he'd make it a memory to last.

He backed her into the dash and she let out a soft whimper into his mouth. A low groan rumbled deep in his chest, but a beeping beneath them tore them apart.

Rose nudged the glowing cannon with her shoe. "It's ready."

"You should go," he said, still clutching her waist, but the words sounded distant and small.

"Yeah," she said with matching enthusiasm.

He rested his forehead against hers. "Rose, what I called you in the dining hall that day, you were never that to me, not ever. I need you to know that."

"I know."

His eyes prickled. "I'm so s—"

She pressed her forefinger into his lips. "Shh. I don't regret one moment of our time together, and neither should you. Just promise you won't stop this way of living." He nodded into her hand. She let up just enough to trace the contour of his mouth, and a shudder ran through him. "Find someone," she said. "Better with two."

Another quake jostled the chamber. He gently rotated her forearm and kissed the vulnerable spot on her wrist, then leaned down and picked the dimension cannon off the floor. "It's time." He placed the cannon in her palm and curled her fingers over it. "Don't look back. He'll be waiting."

Rose sniffed and leaned in for one final kiss. It was different from the last, unrushed and deliberately delicate. She pulled away, her bottom lip retracting half a second later. "If things had been different …"

"I know."

Rose backed away, one step, then two. He balled his hands and held them in place down at his sides, the want inside stretched so taut it hurt.

She pressed her mobile phone to her ear. "Control? I need another jump. I'm coming home."

"Copy that, Agent Tyler. Good to hear from you. Locking onto your signature now."

Static filled the room as the cannon powered up. "Goodbye, my Doctor."

His chest pounded so hard, blood pulsed in his ears. "Rose Tyler, I …" But the words caught in his throat.

Tears slipped down her face. "I know," she said with a solemn nod. "I love you too."

An explosion of blue light forced his eyes shut as the roar of the cannon filled the air. He gasped as time streams and possibilities inflated around him like a popping in his head. Stars and asteroids flew past the doors in rewind, restoring to their natural places, everything sealing like a plug. Dimensional retroclosure; this point was fixed.

Rose Tyler was gone, and with her, all the warmth and light he had ever known.

He braced himself on the controls. No need to stay strong for appearance's sake now. He slammed a fist on the dash as a cry ripped from his throat, then slid to the floor and slumped against the time column.

Heartache—one final sensation gifted to him by her intervention.

Why couldn't he say it? Three measly little words … But she knew. Of course she did, that clever girl. And he won her heart in return, even if the price of that victory was sacrificing a future together.

Sending her into the arms of a better man was the best thing he could have given her in the end. Were they happy? Was it worth it? He'd never know, would he?

Only the faint hum of the engines broke the silence as he stared down the empty corridor. Now what?

He scoffed. It was obvious, wasn't it? He was destined to wander through space righting his wrongs with his head hung low. Piety would be his purgatory, a tailor-made hell just for him—if he managed not to relapse. It was so easy to promise her he'd do the right thing after she'd gone, but without her guidance …

The doors swung closed with a thud. Half a second later, the time rotor began to pump by itself.

"Oi!" he shouted as he banged the dash above his head. "I'm not just an accessory, you know. Ruddy ship with a mind of her own." He dragged himself to his feet and scanned the destination markers on the console. "London, 21st century?" he read aloud. "This your idea of rubbing it in?"

The rotor stopped and the doors creaked open, blinding light hitting him in the face. He slung his arm over his brow and gagged. By the darkest pit of Skaro, what was that unholy smell? He crept toward the sound of squabbling birds. A dumpster sat just a couple of yards ahead, the noonday sun beating down onto ripe trash bags that had overflowed onto neglected pavement. Two brick apartment buildings were sandwiched on either side of the TARDIS, a playground halfway visible through the narrow alley.

As he stopped just inside the doors, his chest constricted. In the center of the courtyard, a young blonde woman sat on a bench, chatting on a mobile phone. She let out a laugh—her whole upper body shaking in that telltale gesture.

Impossible.

He strained his eyes, peering at her from under his hand. It was her but it wasn't. This girl was still a round-faced teenage, her hair overly bleached, makeup too heavy, and so beautiful he could barely breathe. A familiar sensation prickled at his subconscious.

But that couldn't be. Rose was pans-dimensionally centric, unless … Could he have been wrong about everything?

Of course he was wrong. Rose didn't just land right in front of him on Starfall out of coincidence. Bad Wolf must have orchestrated all of this. In her omnipotence, she must have seen across all realities and possibilities and found him, the most fallen version of them all, and created Rose to set him on a new path.

_If I could split myself in two to be with you I would._

The memory of her recent words sent hot tears down his face. Now she'd given him another guiding star, one more Rose Tyler for one more Doctor. He wasn't alone.

This girl hadn't the faintest idea as to what she was—how could she? But she would. Something anxious but resolved fluttered in his stomach as he took a step into the bright sunlight.

Rose had given him so much, and now she'd given hope. And that, like everything else she had given him, was priceless.

* * *

><p>"Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time: effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end."<br>Germaine de Stael

**Author's notes:**

I want to thank everyone who made this story possible. My loyal beta Bria, my good friend sugarpoultry, and most importantly, all you readers. When I set out to write this story, I never thought I'd get so invested in it. It's literally changed my life. The feedback I've gotten has opened a new chapter, and given me the push to pursue writing. It's been so very rewarding for me.

It's my personal head canon that Bald Wolf created Rose Tyler (I create myself), and that she ended the Time War in that singular moment when she absorbed the Vortex. That she saved Gallifrey by becoming the Moment's consciousness, and resurrected Jack so he could tell the Doctor that he wasn't alone, that his planet was not gone when he needed to hear it most.

In my story, during that moment when she could see all that was and ever could be, she saw all possible outcomes, and found Victor. The rest you know.

Victor/Doctor, now has the duty of dancing around his own timeline to mitigate his effects on history. He'll be up against his greatest enemy-his past self, the ruthless Time Lord Victorious. But luckily for him, he has a plucky young human to keep him in line. Only question is, will he ever forgive himself enough to cross the line he's drawn between them?

The rest of the chapters are blank but I'll be leaving them in place to keep the reviews up.


	16. Chapter 16

I have kept this chapter up to allow the old reviews to stay in place, but the remaining chapters are blank now that I have rewritten the story. Thanks reading.


	17. Chapter 17

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	18. Chapter 18

I have kept this chapter up to allow the old reviews to stay in place, but the remaining chapters are blank now that I have rewritten the story. Thanks reading.


	19. Chapter 19

I have kept this chapter up to allow the old reviews to stay in place, but the remaining chapters are blank now that I have rewritten the story. Thanks reading.


	20. Chapter 20

I have kept this chapter up to allow the old reviews to stay in place, but the remaining chapters are blank now that I have rewritten the story. Thanks reading.


	21. Chapter 21

I have kept this chapter up to allow the old reviews to stay in place, but the remaining chapters are blank now that I have rewritten the story. Thanks reading.


	22. Chapter 22

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	23. Chapter 23

This chapter is to alert everyone of the extensive changes to this story.

Thank you everyone who has read and commented. Your encouragement has led me to pursue writing beyond the scope of fanfiction. To that end, I rewrote this story with the goal of improving my craft. I learned a lot, and you'll notice the story has been streamlined, though the most important elements are still in-tact. My goal was to make Victor a more realistic character, and remove myself from the writing to allow the story and the character to shine through. I've improved leaps and bounds now that I've invested in books, lectures, and read every article I can find on writing.

The story is only 15 chapters long now. The remaining chapters are blank, but I'm leaving them up to keep the old reviews in place. Thank you so much. Please give it another read. With the added scenes, it will be well worth your time. And I hope you come to love the characters as much as I do.


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Doctor Who, Drama, Romance