Chapter 7: All Things
She was lost in a tumult of sensation. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was light and darkness. She was the universe contained with the miniscule spaces between the electron rings of an atom. She was a star, a planet, a thought, a dream, a wish.
She was the future, the past, the present. She was Time, and she frolicked through its fluttering pages of could bes and should bes and might bes with the carefree nature of a child. Nothing mattered here.
Not who she'd been or who she was. All that mattered was now, and now was time. Infinity stretched into the distance and she could see it, and touch it, and taste it, and be it. She could do anything, be anything.
The merest thought could change everything, but she didn't want change. Not now. Not when...
Doctor.
A name?
No, no, more than that.
I want you safe. My Doctor. Protected from the false god.
The Doctor. Her Doctor.
What was going on? Where was she? Why couldn't she see him? Why couldn't she feel anything other than an unspeakable sorrow? It filled her, became her. Time mourned the passing of a thousand timelines, a billion worlds. It grieved for the War that never was, but rippled throughout history. It mourned for the man, the wanderer, who would never know the truth.
It mourned for the girl. The valiant child who had healed him but could not return. Not now. Not ever. Not unless…
Oh. Oh, it hurt but it didn't. She was in pain, but she wasn't. It was so much. So, so much. She would've screamed had she lungs. She would've cried had she the ability. But she couldn't.
She was the universe and the universe was her. She was the TARDIS and the Vortex and the big Bad Wolf and she was hellos and forever goodbyes and then, with a suddenness that was almost too shocking for her to withstand, she was nothing at all.
Life, the Professor had always said, was an infinite chess game between Good and Evil. It'd taken on a different significance with Fenric – she suppressed a pang of betrayal that came with the thought; that was so long ago – but the meaning behind his words was the same. In the game of life, there were no winners. There were no losers. Just checkmates.
And, sometimes, there was collateral damage.
The Key was gone. Vanished in a burst of light and she'd only had enough time to spot the suddenly stricken look on the Doctor's face – god, what if they'd been wrong? - before Grenal was on her again.
The heavy Caxtarid was doing his best to pummel her to unconsciousness, but she was far too stubborn for that.
"Oh, no you don't, toe-rag," she hissed the words through her teeth. It'd only take a moment if she could just get her leg positioned there and her hand there...
Yes. She grinned at Grenal as she used a trick that she'd learned during her years as a mercenary. He made a rather satisfying thump as he landed against the opposite wall.
"Checkmate," she whispered.
Judging him to be out of the fight, at least for the moment, she returned her attention to the two others crowded in the tiny alcove. The tableau hadn't changed much since before Grenal had attacked her. Only, this time, Kraal had an all too familiar look in his eyes.
Desperation.
A desperate man would make mistakes, would do something foolish, and would, in all likelihood, get himself (and anyone else he blamed for his problems) killed in the process.
She tried to move as carefully as possible, keeping her wary gaze trained upon him as she climbed to her feet. He'd startle, she knew he would, and then it'd be all she could do to keep both the Doctor and herself in one piece.
"You," Kraal snarled, stalking toward the Doctor.
She tensed, ready to fight despite the various aches and pains from her earlier battle.
"Me?" the Doctor asked.
The Caxtarid paced around him, keeping his stare hard upon the Doctor. She watched him carefully for any sudden moves. "I'd heard the legends, heard the myths, even met someone who'd claimed to have known you. I never believed them, of course. No such thing as the Doctor. No such thing as a meddling Time Lord. They don't exist. Never existed. They're nothing more than the dreams of a thousand civilizations, just like the Doctor. But they were right, weren't they? Here you are. Proud of yourself? Happy?"
The Time Lord's expression was inscrutable as Kraal walked around him, punctuating his comments with an accusing finger.
"Let me give you a number, Doctor. Just one. You know what that number is? It's ten billion. That's how many Caxtarids you've killed. Oh, sure, might've been a stupid mistake by someone in the government, but you enabled it. You let it happen. You made it happen. All for the sake of your stupid history. Well, guess what Doctor? You were right about something."
"Only something?" the Doctor asked mildly, but she could see that Kraal's words had affected him. "I'm right about most things. Well, when I say most, I really mean all. But I wouldn't want to boast."
"There are always consequences. Your little fragment's gone, Doctor. And you know what else?" Kraal lunged forward and gripped the Doctor by the throat, his blue fingers digging into her friend's skin. "Here's another consequence for you, Doctor. Your death isn't much of a consolation prize, but it'll have to do."
No!
The Doctor's hands were braced against the Caxtarid's arm, but he wasn't forcing the other man's hand away from his throat. What the hell did he think he was doing? There had to be something she could do, an opening, something. But, no. Kraal had been wise enough to keep the Doctor between them. He could see whatever movement she made or would make from that position. Despite her training, she couldn't avoid all physical tell-tale signs of her forthcoming actions.
"They would've died anyway, Kraal. You already know that. Why else are you doing this? One last chance to prove a point? That you were right all along? Or that you were wrong, but are too scared to admit it?" the Doctor replied, seemingly unconcerned by the pressure of the Caxtarid's fingers against his throat. Only the throaty nature of his voice, and the harshness of his breath, conveyed his distress.
"You're wrong, Doctor!" Kraal protested, but she could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
"Am I?" He choked out the words as the Caxtarid's hand tightened further, cutting off his air supply.
No. It couldn't end like this. It wouldn't end like this. She wouldn't let it. She frantically scanned the alcove for something, anything, that she could use against the Caxtarid. The canister of Nitro Nine was well out of reach. He'd be able to prevent her from reaching Grenal...
There had to be something she could do!
"Let him go!" she demanded, willing Kraal to listen to reason. Somehow, she doubted he'd do her the favour.
"Why?"
Simple question. Simple answer.
She opened her mouth to reply but somehow, someway, the Doctor managed to find enough air to beat her to it. "Because you wanted to stop your government from killing all those innocent lives. Because you don't want to kill me. And because, if you do this, you're no better than your government was."
There was no reaction to the Doctor's words beyond yet another tightening of Kraal's fingers around her friend's throat. That lack of positive response seemed to prompt the Time Lord to action.
She could see sorrow, resignation, and worry in the Doctor's expression. And, a moment later, in a flurry of movement almost too fast to be seen, he managed to free himself from the choke hold.
"Everything ends," he told the Caxtarid in a hoarse voice. His eyes were haunted as he spoke those words, almost as if they had some additional meaning.
She stepped forward and watched the subdued alien carefully. "You've lost," she said. What if that was wrong? What if they'd both lost? Kraal had lost his planet for the second time. But the Doctor…what if they'd lost Rose?
"For now," Kraal acknowledged, but she could see a warning glint in his eye. She'd seen that expression before. Beyond desperation, beyond anger, beyond everything but determination.
She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late. Far, far too late because the Caxtarid had already hit something on his jacket.
A split second later, Kraal was gone.
"Transmat." The word was a curse. Of course. She'd forgotten, but, then again, so had the Doctor. A quick glance to the side where Grenal had been slouched revealed a similar scene. He, too, was gone.
"Oh, I'm good with transmats," the Doctor replied as he bent to pick up his sonic screwdriver. "Brilliant, even." He changed the settings on the device before activating it.
She waited patiently for about thirty seconds. Nothing. "Doctor?"
"They must've transmatted again. I can't reverse the signal." He sighed, running his free hand through his hair.
"Guess Time's Vigilante's work is never done," she said, smiling faintly. "I'll keep an eye out for them. They're bound to try again, and, since I know where the sixth fragment-" she pointed at the newly restored Mona Lisa. "-is, they won't succeed."
A shadow crossed his face as he shook his head. "It's not as simple as that, Ace. The Key to Time changes shape, changes its identity. There's no guarantee that the next time the Key'll be the exact same objects – or people – it was before."
Oh. Oh, no. She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "And Rose?"
He stilled, his face expressionless. The only fracture in his mask was the noticeable clench of his jaw. "I don't know."
"She's probably waiting for you back in 2006," she reasoned, willing him to believe it though she had her own doubts.
"Yeah." She could hear the uncertainty in his voice and her heart broke for him.
"Come on, Professor," she said gently, hoping that her use of the old nickname would help. "Let's get back to the TARDIS."
He nodded silently and waited while she picked up her rucksack and the fallen canister of Nitro Nine. There was no indication now that anything out of the ordinary had happened in the tiny alcove; as it should be. She doubted that the museum's caretakers would've been understanding had the Mona Lisa or any of the other priceless artefacts been damaged or destroyed.
The Doctor seemed torn as they headed back to the TARDIS. One moment, he'd speed up, as if he couldn't wait to return to his ship and search for Rose. The next, he'd slow down, staring at the ground, his entire body a statement to despair. She couldn't let him leave like this.
She bit her lower lip. She'd sworn a long time ago that she'd confine herself to the Rift. She didn't have worlds to explore throughout time and space – she had one, just one, and that was enough. Not anymore. She found she was willing to give up that earlier vow, especially if what she'd feared was true.
Without a friend to help him – if Rose was gone - she was afraid that he'd break, fracture into a thousand pieces that could never be found again. He wasn't leaving Paris. Not without her.
Sure, she'd have some unfinished business, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the Doctor, her friend, and that was enough.
The remainder of the journey to the TARDIS was thankfully uneventful. She'd yet to see (or hear) another patrol of security guards, which did little to increase her opinion of their attentiveness, but she was thankful for it. She had no desire to explain their presence inside the closed museum.
"Doctor," she said as he put his key into the lock. "I'm coming with you."
His hand stilled upon the key and he angled his head toward her, meeting her gaze. She could read grief, anger, hurt, and despair in his eyes – all of which told her that she was making the right decision. She couldn't let him leave like this.
"You need me," she added, not caring if it sounded like she was begging. She wasn't. She was telling.
He smiled, but there was no emotion behind it beyond resignation. She supposed that he'd already guessed that she was far too stubborn to let him leave her behind and had decided to forestall the inevitable argument about responsibility and the Rift. Some things had to take priority.
And the Doctor currently occupied the number one slot on her priority list.
The door opened with a familiar creak, sending a pang of nostalgia through her. For so many years, the old time ship had been home. She pulled in a bracing breath as she started to follow him inside, only to run into his back.
"Doc-" she began, but interrupted herself. She could see someone was standing by the console. She didn't need to see the other person clearly to know that it was Rose. "Find me before you go," she whispered and, without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement – she knew there wouldn't be one – she turned and walked back into the Louvre, closing the door behind her.
She'd find her own way out.
Some reunions are best when unobserved.
Time stopped.
He could feel it, for a moment, when he crossed the threshold into the TARDIS. It had faltered, skidded, halted for just an instant.
Because she was there. Rose. His Rose. Watching him watch her.
"Rose." Her name was a whisper on his lips as he looked at her, barely willing to trust that she was real and not a dream.
She smiled and he was undone. How could a dream have such a perfect recollection of her unique smile? Much as it would break him should it not be real, he had to believe. She was real. She was here.
He hadn't lost her.
A step, another, and another until it became a run. He charged up the ramp towards her, unwilling to blink in case she faded away. But she didn't, because she couldn't, because she was here, and then, finally, she was in his arms.
She was real. Oh, thank Rassilon, she was real. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the faint scent of herbal shampoo and her perfume. "I thought I'd lost you," he confessed softly against the golden strands, unwilling to release her even for the small distance it'd take to look into her eyes.
Rose tightened her hold on him. "For a moment, you had." He heard something unexpected in her voice, a wisdom, perhaps, that had not been there before.
"Rose..."
She pulled away from his embrace only enough to see his face. "I'm here now," she said, lifting her hand to cup his cheek.
"Yeah," he agreed, leaning into her touch. "You are."
"It's gone now." She didn't have to elaborate. He knew what she meant. When he looked into her eyes, he could no longer see flecks of gold. All he saw was Rose.
"That's okay," he replied, unable to give voice to the fierce joy that pounded with each beat of his hearts. No more Bad Wolf, which, he reasoned, meant she was no longer a fragment of the Key. She'd returned to the beginning. To the console room of the TARDIS. To where Bad Wolf had begun.
Full circle.
"Is it?" she asked, and he could see the worry in her eyes. Worry that without the gifts that Bad Wolf had brought her, he wouldn't want her anymore. Worry that without Bad Wolf she was nothing. What she didn't understand was that she was everything.
"Yes," he told her firmly, willing her to believe him. "Yes, it is. I didn't ask Bad Wolf to come with me twice, Rose. I asked you."
She smiled brilliantly at him and he grinned in reply. She'd be fine.
"Thank you," she said.
He blinked. "What for?"
She leaned forward until their lips were only millimetres apart, their breath intermingling. His body shivered in reaction. "For asking me twice, for saving my life, for showing me the universe, for letting me stay, for holding my hand, for telling me to run, for the holidays we've had and will have, for the adventures we've finished and the one's we've yet to, and just for being you. My Doctor."
He closed the distance between them and kissed her for what seemed to be the first time in forever. In a sense, perhaps, it was. He poured all of his emotions into the movement of his lips. He willed her to feel how much he'd missed her, how much he was thankful for her, how much he loved her though he'd never said the words.
When the need for oxygen became too great, they separated, breathing heavily. "My Rose," he said, tightening his arms around her again. She was safe. She was here, in his arms. He hadn't lost her. He hadn't failed. Oh, thank Rassilon, he hadn't lost her.
She smiled as she trailed her fingers down the line of his jaw. "Jus' do me a favour."
"Anything." He'd do anything if she'd just keep doing that.
"Let's avoid Paris for the next, oh, couple of hundred thousand years?"
That startled a laugh out of him. "I think that could be arranged. But we do have one stop we have to make before we go."
"Oh?" she asked.
"Yeah. To say goodbye. Or, in her case, see you later." He pulled out of their embrace, but dropped one hand to entwine with hers. He wasn't willing to let her go, not yet. It was a small thing, but it was tangible enough to convince him that she was real.
And she was.
She remembered the moment when sensation had returned. Sight, sound, smell, and touch had poured over her, and through her, in an instant. It was almost overwhelming, but it'd been nothing like what she'd known before.
Rose Tyler had been Time. She could remember bits and pieces of it in unguarded moments. When she was distracted by the touch of his hand, or the warmth in his gaze, a memory would surface of when she hadn't truly existed.
It was generally only a snippet, sometimes nothing more than a feeling, but it was still there. However, she resolved not to tell him. Bad Wolf was gone. She knew it as surely as she knew the texture of his skin or the feel of his lips upon hers.
She just knew the memories that were left in its wake.
The TARDIS groaned as it was set into motion, the pulse of the time rotor keeping time with the beat of her heart. She had unfinished business here, she realised. Not just with the Doctor. She cocked her head at him as he grinned maniacally, the soft green glow of the rotor casting his face in shadows and light. She had designs on the Time Lord, really, but that was for later.
For now, she was glad that they'd get the chance to see Dorothée one more time. It was a bit of a paradox, really. Meeting someone for the first time for the second time. It went both ways. Dorothée had first met her here, Paris, 1913. She'd first met Dorothée there, Nova Paris, late twenty-second century. Time travel semantics were enough to give anyone a splitting headache, she decided.
But, now, it was time to say goodbye.
The TARDIS shuddered to a stop and they walked to the door together, hand-in-hand. She needed that familiar contact, the touch of skin-to-skin, after her earlier experience. It was amazing, really, how much one can miss something so simple when it was gone. Then again, with him, nothing was ever simple. Not life nor love. It just was.
They pushed open the double-doors and walked into what looked like a mad scientist's lair. It suited Dorothée, really. The room was well lit, though it was underground. A full chemistry set was set up in the corner, a handwritten sign proclaiming it to be the home of 'ACME EXPLOSIVES'. What could only be confiscated alien technology was scattered about the tables in various states of disassembly and, of course, the black motorbike was leaning against the wall.
"How anyone could've missed a TARDIS materialisation is beyond me," the Doctor muttered from beside her. She wouldn't mention that people had before – but those were people who didn't know. Hadn't seen the TARDIS or travelled with the Time Lord.
"Oi! Give me a mo', takes a bit longer for me to get anywhere wearing this get up." Dorothée protested as she seemed to flicker into existence in front of them. No longer wearing the borrowed t-shirt and jeans, she was clothed in two layers. One, she recognised from Nova Paris – some sort of black body armour. The second layer seemed to glitter and – was it breathing?
"A Debralian chameleon carapace! Oh, I haven't seen one of those in-" the Doctor seemed to reconsider his words before he continued "-a very long time." His brow furrowed as he looked from the carapace to Dorothée. "Actually, I thought Debralia had been destroyed in the War."
She didn't need to ask to know which war he referenced. An echo of pain crossed Dorothée's face as she nodded. "It was. Got this off of a pair of Grashte who'd decided that invasion via the Rift was a good plan. I dissuaded them of that particular idea."
"Ah."
The silence that followed his reply had the possibility of becoming awkward later, but she wouldn't let it. Instead, she dropped the Doctor's hand after one last squeeze and crossed the room to stand in front of her friend. "I wanted to say thanks, Dorothée. Thanks for takin' care of him when I couldn't."
Dorothée smiled and shrugged. "Someone's got to do it. Glad I could help. And-" she found herself pulled into a rough hug "-I'm glad you're okay."
"'M fine," she replied, and she was. While the Doctor was at a distance, she judged that this was the only time she could let her friend know. In a whisper, she said, "You'll see me again."
The other woman pulled back and looked at her curiously for a moment before understanding dawned. She could practically see the puzzle pieces click into place in her mind as Dorothée smiled. "Yeah. We will. Take care of yourself, Rose. And him."
She smiled as she stepped back, letting the Doctor take her place. "Always."
"Don't be a stranger," Dorothée said, not letting him say the words first. "I spent too long thinking you were dead, okay? So you'd better pop in to say 'hello' once in a while, or else."
She couldn't see the Doctor's face, but she could see Dorothée's. The other woman smiled, though she could see a tell-tale shine in her eyes. A moment later, the Doctor had pulled her into a bear-hug. "It was good to see you again, Ace."
"Yeah," Dorothée agreed. "You too." She pulled out of the hug to look the Doctor in the eyes. "Promise me, okay? Promise that I'll see you again?"
He nodded. "Promise. We'll stop in for tea sometime. Just make sure to have a handy supply of pastries. I've always been partial to paris-brest."
She fought the urge to laugh. Though it meant they'd have to come back to Paris again, she didn't mind as much since it would be to see their friend.
Dorothée laughed. "See you around, Professor."
"Yeah," he said and, turning around, he walked back to her.
Her hand slipped into his automatically and they walked back to the TARDIS. She knew that they'd see Dorothée again. Not because of the twists and turns of time, but because of fate.
When they entered the console room, he released her hand to bound up the ramp to the console. As he started to flip switches and turn knobs, he turned toward her, grinning widely. "So, Rose Tyler, where to next? There're so many places I could take you. Places where the ground's made of crystal, the people are made of smoke, the sky's on fire, and the cities resound with song. Places where your breath changes colour depending on the weather. Places where there's danger, or excitement, or relaxation. The universe's the limit!"
Oh, it all sounded brilliant, but there was one place that she could think of that she'd much rather visit. The universe could wait. Now, all she wanted was him. She smiled as she walked toward the door to the interior of the TARDIS. Holding out her hand, she cast a look over her shoulder. "Come with me?"
He hit another switch and the TARDIS shuddered into flight. Somehow, she knew that they wouldn't be landing anywhere just yet. He joined her a moment later and grasped her hand. In a low voice that promised far more than words alone could convey, he replied to her question, "Thought you'd never ask."
END