Author's Notes: Goes AU towards the end of 'The Sound of Drums'.

Whole realities rush past him in an instant; futures that now can never come to pass because some decision that he's made along the way has slashed them from the realm of possibility. He has no idea how to explain it to Martha or Jack – he can barely fully articulate the phenomenon inside his own head, even with all that exceptional brain power and the superior time senses that he's always bragging about – but it doesn't matter. What matters is the knowledge, and the feeling... the unadulterated relief at having dodged some metaphorical bullet (or even a literal one, in at least one or two of those timelines that now no longer have the potential to become real for the three of them).

As he, Martha and Jack duck into an abandoned warehouse to avoid the warpath of the so-called Toclafane and the terrified stampede of the human victims that they're pursuing, Martha wonders aloud whether this is somehow their fault. "If we'd been able to make it on board the Valiant on time," she postulates, "then we could have stopped it."

"No," the Doctor says with complete certainty. "I'm sure we couldn't have. And things could have been so much worse then, in so many ways."

Martha goes to argue. He can see her getting riled up in that way of hers that he appreciates so much because he honestly needs it sometimes. He's not sure right now is one of those times, though. Perhaps seeing that, Jack gently shakes his head at Martha before she has a chance to fully put a voice to what she's feeling, and Martha allows herself to subside, shooting a puzzled look in the Doctor's direction. Even though Martha has technically spent more time with him, Jack has had generations to mull over the Doctor and all his quirks. Jack understands him in ways that many of the Doctor's companions will never get the time or the chance to. Their eyes meet over Martha's head, and there is a moment of acknowledgement between them. Even after everything, he can see that Jack still trusts the Doctor. He trusts that there's a reason for his certainty that this turn of events is ultimately for the best.

For once, the Doctor thinks wryly, the trust is actually well-placed. He knows instinctively that they've been set on a better path than many of the ones they came so close to walking. There is still suffering ahead of them, and there is still an air of hopelessness pressing in around them and threatening to overwhelm everything, but it's better.

They have something right now that they wouldn't have had otherwise: each other. There isn't much that the Doctor, Martha Jones and Jack Harkness can't do when they're able to put their not inconsiderable talents together, and when they each have two hands to grab onto.

Outside, the whole world seems like it's ending. Homes are being torn apart and people are being viciously cut down. But inside that isolated, dusty space where it's just the three of them fighting for each other and that crumbling world, they instinctively reach for and give comfort. Their hands grasp, and body warmth is shared through their closeness, and Jack's lips briefly find each of the other's foreheads.

Inside, the Doctor can feel something beginning.

~FIN~