The first time he sees the gun he is disappointed in her. He tries not to be, tries for his sake just as much as hers, but the sentiment remains. In all his memories of her, and in all of his dreams, she is never carrying a firearm. She assures him that she can count the number of times she's fired it on one hand but the fact that she's fired it remains as stubbornly as the disappointment. He's disgusted that such a thing is in his beloved ship and cannot understand why she insists on carrying it around even when they're safely in the vortex. He can maybe understand why she carries it when they're out but why in the TARDIS?

It is only when she sleepwalks one night that he understands. She's aiming the pistol at imaginary foes and promises death and all things in between if they come near her family again. Only then does he understand how different her life was before she returned to him.

He doesn't mention the gun again, not even on the day it disappears.

He is pleasantly surprised to find that she doesn't insist on a stop at Earth to get her hair bleached once her roots start to show. Instead she tells him she plans on stripping the blonde out and going back to her natural colour. He is somewhat apprehensive of seeing her with different hair but quickly beats it into submission. If she goes back to her natural colour that means no more salon trips ever. At least not for anything other than a haircut.

"I've been meaning to do it for years," she tells him as she gathers up every towel and hair product she has. It looks to him as if she's preparing for battle.

"Why now and not then?" he inquires.

She stops abruptly for a moment and then hurls the pile into the bathroom before turning to face him. She chews her lip and for a moment he sees the child she'd been as she looks up at him with sheepish eyes. "I was afraid that if I had brown hair you wouldn't recognize me if we met again."

He smiles gently at her and cups her chin in one hand while the other plays with a lock of her hair. "I'd know you with any hair," he assures her. "Brown, blonde, red, pink, Absilian turquoise. I'd even know you with no hair at all." He regards the dark roots. "Besides, I believe it's only fair that you put me through at least one change of appearance."

She more than definitely agrees with that.

She's a partner to him now instead of merely a companion along for the ride. When she runs for her life it is not in blind terror and she is certainly not looking to him to save them. She runs with purpose, her mind already planning her next move. Usually she's on the same wavelength as him, which certainly saves precious time, but every so often she will come up with something so mad and so completely wonderful that she saves them before he does.

It's unnerving to find that he is no longer the only leader but also relieved that the pressure isn't all on him anymore. It's theirs. It always was theirs, true, but now it really is. He doesn't have to worry about her as much as he used to. She says that he doesn't have to worry about her at all but he doesn't believe he'll ever stop worrying about her.

This was something that had only just to blossom in her before she'd left him and it is something that he wishes he could have seen grow. He regrets it, but it doesn't pain him as much as the others.

It's lovely to know that someone will always come for him.

She tells him she loves him daily. If not in words then it's through the way she smiles at him. The way she deals with his bouts of vanity with nothing but an indulging smile and a roll of her eyes. He loves it best when she tells him. Every time she says it he hears the echo of the first time fade into the dark recesses of his memory.

She makes no effort to hide it when they're out exploring the universe together. Before she'd always been subtle. They'd been subtle and awkward and perhaps a bit oblivious on his end. She'd hold his hand for longer than she needed to, hug a little too close and tight. Small things, essential for someone who was unsure how the other felt and was trying to find out.

Now she knows too well how he feels about her, so she sees no need to be subtle. She holds his hand when she doens't need too, she kisses him in public and she's even been known to grab his bum on occasion and give it a playful squeeze. It's something that has gotten them into trouble before, something that has almost got her killed more than once, but she keeps doing it. She is shameless in her adoration for him and no amount of death sentences will deter her from letting the universe know that she loves him.

That is perfectly fine by him, for he is just as shameless in his adoration for her.

Her hands are different yet the same. When he took her hand that first time, when he was another man and she was so much younger, they were soft and young. Inexperienced like she had been.

Her hands are a bit older now. They're strong and sure and steady. They don't shake when she's nervous and they don't tap when she's impatient. He misses the tapping they used to make but she says she now has an overabundance of patience and they haven't tapped since he'd found her. She does tap along to the music he plays in the TARDIS while he's tinkering, though, and he'll take what he can get.

Her hands still fits in his, and that's all that matters to him. Each time he grabs her hand he remembers every time he's ever grasped it and every time he's wanted to; especially the one time when she'd really needed it and he couldn't be there. She says her time away taught her that she could wait forever if she had to and he says he learned that there is no greater feeling in the entire universe than her hand in his.

When she says she wants to go home, he starts. Does she miss the other universe? Does she want to go back to Jackie and the others? Stupid of him to think that things could go back to the way they were so easily. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I mean the TARDIS, you idiot."

He blinks at her and she rolls her eyes. "Would I have come with you if I wanted to stay back there?"

He tries to give the logical answer, that she'd be with her family and that it would be at least a little bit safer than she is with him, but all he can say is nothing.

"The Powell Estate stopped being home a long time ago and the other universe never was." She relates this as if she were a frustrated teacher explaining some simple but essential fact for the eighteenth time to a particularly thick student.

"Whenever I refer to home, all the times I did before I left and all the times while I was in the other universe, I always meant the TARDIS. Home is where the heart is and my heart is with you. Always has been and always will be." She pokes the space between his hearts.

He remains in shocked silence. He hopes she's pleased with herself since the ability to render him speechless is gifted on few beings. Her smile is soothing, stubborn and sincere all at once and he truly accepts what she's saying: that she has been his, quite possibly, from the word 'run'. Maybe even before then.

"Home then?" he finally manages to croak.

Her expression truly softens. "Best idea you've had all day."