A/N

Disclaimer: This disclaimer's going to be for the entire story, so I don't have to keep needlessly repeating myself. In no way, shape or form do I own Doctor Who (unless you count a couple of books, a poster and a sonic screwdriver), and I make no money writing this.

Bubbles and Balloons is a necessary read to understand some elements of this story.

Hey all! Long time no see! I was planning on uploading this in 2008, way earlier than this, but as usual, things conspired against me. For me, 2008 was a very busy year. Deaths and storms and schoolwork and moving and storms… stupid storms. Even now, we're moving house for the second time in less than a year. Plus, I rewrote the summaries for this story over and over again, trying to find one that'd work. I think I've found it. I also had trouble working out the title, but I think I've found that, too.

I've got to thank hugely those who stuck with me throughout Bubbles and Balloons; your support meant a lot to me, and you guys don't know how much I appreciate it. I hope you are going to be equally as happy with this, the sequel.

So read on, campers!

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Satellite 5, Year 200100

The TARDIS doors opened quickly, yet almost serenely, and she could feel the immense power, and the fear, of the Time Lord before her as he covered his eyes and fell backwards because of her greater, immense power. She took a step forward, out of the blinding light, capturing the ethereal power of the heart inside her head. The Doctor stared at her in concern and awe, and she felt startled at the depth of it, just as she was startled at the depth of everything she could feel and hear. Suddenly she was no longer she, but all; everything and everyone, voices clamouring, and the noises were overwhelming.

"What've you done?" the Doctor asked her, and she – he? it? – could sense his fear, stronger, potent in its ferocity.

She-it turned her golden gaze upon him. "I looked into the TARDIS. And she looked into me." But it was more than that, a bonding, an essence that would remain in the girl's young mind until the time was right. It was hard to distinguish the girl's memories now, as if a stronger force was being created out of the girl's will and the power of the vortex.

"You looked into the time vortex," the Doctor realised. "Rose, no one's supposed to see that."

And the words sounded so much like him, like her Doctor, that she almost believed him. But it would be ignorant of her to not notice the truth, and so she didn't believe him. Only one, this was destined for. And for only one it should remain. Rose, the girl's name – but Rose was only one part of the being now, a far greater creation, borne of pain and determination and the girl's desire to save the Time Lord.

The Dalek emperor growled something, but this she ignored, for the emperor was foolish to think that this day would be the end of humanity. How could the emperor be imprudent enough to not see that she – it? – contained far more power within an atom of her being than he ever would with his millions of mindless creations?

"Exterminate!" one of the many insane Daleks –enemies, but merely ants – ordered. The girl might have felt pity once, seeing the loss of mind that indicated an ineffectual life. They are stupid, it – she? – thought, as the Dalek weapon activated and fired. A feeble effort. She held up her hand, showing her power. One Dalek could never surmount against time itself.

The weapon's bolt reversed back into the gun as quickly as it came, and her – it's – powers were still overflowing, filling her with eternal knowledge, of everything and everyone who was and will ever be. The girl's mind was burning. So much… so much… too much… use the power…

But in its mind, the mind of the girl staggered her way towards sentience. It let her – she was the creator; she was part of it, a huge part, the part that gave it emotions and feelings and life.

"I am the Bad Wolf," the being said, through the body of the girl. "I create myself. I take the words…"

It waved her hand, and the words imprinted on the vessel lifted. From inside it's mind, watching the world through golden eyes, the girl emitted satisfaction and comprehension. But her mind was still burning… burning…

"I scatter them in time and space." The words disappeared, as per her will. She was the creator of Bad Wolf. Bad Wolf was her, with the knowledge of the universe. She controlled everything.

"A message to lead myself here," Rose finished.

But it was so much more than that, and the whole of time knew it.

As its mind continued filling, through the girl, Bad Wolf could hear the wildly concerned efforts of the Time Lord – nothing compared to the time vortex, but yet still strangely connected – to save Rose.

"Rose, you've got to stop this. You've got to stop this now! You've got the entire vortex running through your head. You're gonna burn!"

Its emotions welled up in a furious tide. Not through her head. In… In her head. The vortex was her. She was the vortex. It created Bad Wolf. And burning? She knew, it knew; they had already begun to burn. And anger, rage, ferocity, it dominated, pulsed, refused to ebb… power, power, power! I have power! Dominate! Control! Destroy!

The girl managed to leap into sentience, sweeping Bad Wolf back into her mind as she took control of her body. The girl, it thought, the girl is strong. But the fury was also strong. "I want you safe," Rose told the Doctor gently, and with her unwavering will moved her head to face his. "My Doctor. Protected from the false god."

And fury, unchanging, burning fury, raged through its head and through Rose's head. Burning…

"You cannot hurt me," the emperor quavered. "I am immortal!"

This false god – such insolence to believe it could survive. Species die. It shall die. Enemy of the Doctor, the girl's mind shrieked. Bad Wolf took notice. Enemy! Enemy!

And within a millisecond, it was decided, between her and it. They shall die. All of them. Let them witness the fury of the vortex. Destroy! Destroy! Show our wrath! "You are tiny," Bad Wolf stated, dangerously calm. "I can see all of time and space, every single atom of your existence, and I divide them." Bad Wolf channelled the anger to power. With a swipe of her – it's – hand, the mindless Dalek in front of them had been wiped from existence, turning into the remnants of Bad Wolf's fury – dust. "Everything must come to dust… all things. Everything dies." The daleks, enemies, all enemies, all will fall–

"I will not die!" the emperor cried in fear. "I cannot die!"

Foolish mortal.

Seconds later, the wrath of Bad Wolf – time and Rose – was seen. All daleks gone. Gone. The time war had ended. And throughout the universe, the anger of Bad Wolf was known.

The girl was relieved. Bad Wolf was satisfied. But then–

Burning! Pain, fire, madness, anger, anger, anger…

Get the pain out! Out, out, out! No… destroy! Destruction! I control everything… power, power, power, everything and everyone! Dominate!

The girl was terrified, and rightly so. She, with the vortex, had created a monster. Rage, fury! Show the universe! Revenge! Destroy! Rule! Bad Wolf twisted inside the girl's head, and then separated its essence, and the Fury, which had escalated to such a degree it was almost conscious, from the girl's mind, and with the last of it's power – for without the vortex, which was connected to the girl, it had no power – sent itself and the Fury as far away, by time and by space, from the girl as possible. No anger now…

Now it was only the girl, and the vortex. The girl controlled it now.

Millennia away, and light years away from each other, two different pairs of golden eyes opened slowly, glowing with the eyes of eternity. Then they closed, and night once again reined on the worlds in which they resided.

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Present

She was running.

The forest screamed around her, black, and her sense of uneasiness grew. No bugs chirped, and the birds had long since gone. She couldn't hear anything but her breath sobbing in her throat and the loud systematic thuds of her feet pounding across the leafy ground. Keep going. Keep going. Run. Get away. Something in her peripheral vision made her skid to a halt. Had she just seen eyes? She squinted. Nothing. Then two objects reflected the moonlight again, hovering in the air like fireflies. She flinched. The objects blinked. Run. Hide!

She scrambled backward, terrified, tripping and falling amongst the dead leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor. Looked up again, but the eyes had gone. For an indefinite amount of time she remained frozen, willing her eyes to see through the inky blackness, to see where the eyes were, and what they had come from. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. The eyes didn't appear.

Slowly, making no noise, she stood up, never taking her eyes off the spot that had scared her. It was gone. It didn't exist. Her imagination. She took a step forward, and another and another. A twig cracked, and she jumped. She looked at her feet. There was no cracked twig. Then where–?

A howl. Unearthly. Loud. Angry. Stiffening, she held her breath. She dared not move. It might be her last if she did.

Another twig cracked.

She trembled.

And another.

Her eyes were watering. Don't blink. For God's sake, don't blink.

Nothing. No twig. It was soft, padded, skilled. It was the hunter.

She was the prey.

A twig cracked. Something jumped through the air.

She turned around with the speed of a frightened mouse. Eyes, blood red. Furious. Petrifying. Teeth. Slavering teeth. God, she couldn't move! The jaw opened further, and the eyes were suddenly out of view. Dark. So dark. The moonlight glistened on the sharp canines that were fast approaching her head. She couldn't look away. Horror. Fear. Claws extended, a dark shape taking form amongst the sinister shadows of the night.

She screamed.

Then the forest was silent.

Rose's eyes snapped open. Sweat had plastered her hair to her face, and layered the sheets which she had tangled herself up in as she slept. She bunched the sheets up further as the vivid details from her dream came to her in a rush that almost made her breathless. Scrunching her eyes closed, she took a couple of deep breaths, the smooth feeling of the sheets serving to calm her frayed nerves. Just a dream. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. Not real. Slowly, her body relaxed, and suddenly she felt awfully weary.

She looked around. Her room was still dark, a reminder that she hadn't gotten enough sleep. The TARDIS was helpful like that. She blinked, and her eyes almost refused to open. Tired…

Within another minute, she was asleep.

Rose woke up slowly the second time. The light of the TARDIS shone through her closed eyelids, making her realise she'd slept as long as she'd needed to, but it wasn't the reason she woke.

She opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the light and get the blurriness out of her vision. She was cuddled into her sheets and her quilt, her head half-buried in her pillow. While the TARDIS maintained a perfect temperature at all times, except when it was malfunctioning, Rose still used her quilt, simply because she'd gotten so used to using it back in London that she couldn't quite bring herself to part with its comfort, and she didn't sleep well if she did.

She stretched out, brushing her hair out of her face, and blinked again, in surprise. On top of her pink and purple quilt, the Doctor was lounging, his unruly, big, brown hair inches from her chin. He hadn't noticed her awake, being preoccupied with fiddling with the two devices in his hands. One was the sonic screwdriver. The other…

Rose's mood plummeted. The other was a communication device she'd received from Time Lords of another reality. The last time they'd used it – when she'd spoken to Thompson and Fraser, two Torchwood agents who had found her younger sister, Heather – was around, by her best guess, almost a month ago. Ever since then, the Doctor had been obsessed with trying to get some functionality out of it. The problem wasn't on their end, though; a maid, tasked with getting Heather away from the danger, and terribly afraid, had kicked the communication device on the other end, damaging it. The Doctor had originally been highly confused; it was a Time Lord device, after all, so why would a little kick damage it?

Rose had several possible answers, and since then, they both had been postulating possible scenarios. What if, when the maid had kicked it, the device had gotten wet, and that prevented it from working efficiently? What if the device really had gotten damaged when it'd been kicked, because the creator of it, Jorax, hadn't cared if it lasted or not? What if it only worked properly on land? Time Lords had done weirder things.

After that terribly ending communication attempt, Rose had been as obsessed as the Doctor in trying to make the communication device work. If they could boost the signal just that little bit more… if they could somehow replicate it… if they could send at least a message

But as days, then weeks, passed, Rose's hopes slowly diminished, and she had gradually begun to stop helping. The Doctor though, unlike her, had refused to give up. Any time they weren't saving worlds, or just spending time with each other, the Doctor would grab the com-bulb, as they'd come to call it, nab his trusted sonic, and buzz, trying to find any weak points or anything they could use to communicate. Rose had long since given up trying to get him to stop, but a nagging sense, one she didn't ignore, told her the effort was futile.

If there was any way of getting the device to work, Rose and the Doctor would have to wait until the device on the other end was repaired. If it was repaired.

It'd need a Time Lord. And the only Time Lord left alive in that reality, if he was still alive, was the Master.

Rose sighed inaudibly. So many 'if's. Too many.

She was brought out of her musing when the Doctor shifted, scratching his hair idly with one hand in puzzlement, and the gesture was so much like him that she couldn't help smile.

She recalled the awkward situation where the Doctor had admitted he loved her. He loved her! Every time she thought of that, she felt giddy with joy. She guessed, she hoped, that it meant they could finally go buy being a 'couple', or boyfriend and girlfriend. Or something like that, but more profound, because she couldn't imagine the Doctor ever introducing her as 'his girlfriend', and she couldn't imagine introducing him as 'her boyfriend'. There was so much more to the two of them than those titles, and Rose had never imagined herself saying anything like that.

The Doctor, she mused, changes everything.

Sparks flew onto said Time Lord as the sonic screwdriver buzzed furiously against the light blue light-bulb communicator. He shook his head, clearly irritated, and changed the setting of the screwdriver with deft fingers. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to puff up more, and Rose was drawn to his hair.

He had good hair. Brown, a nice brown, and it was well looked after, not oily, and with a gleam only a good shampoo could bring. Or an alien version of shampoo, she didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted to know what his hair felt like – silky? spiky? rough? –, and without quite realising what she was doing, she had reached a hand forward, and patted the tips of his hair. She withdrew her hand immediately, and stared at it, then at his hair.

What had possessed her to do that?

She sighed. She still hadn't figured out where she and the Doctor stood now. They'd said they loved each other, so what more was there to it?

A lot, it seemed.

If she had expected anything to come out of that conversation, she was sorely disappointed. It was just all back to normal, where they were concerned. They were close, very close, close enough to be mistaken as a couple, but not, Rose thought, close enough to be a couple.

Or was it just her? Was she seeing things that weren't there? What if the Doctor and she were closer, but she didn't see it because she wanted more than that?

Frowning, she stared pointedly into his hair. That was the question. What more did she want out of it? Kissing? Sleeping together? Rose knew that she couldn't have sex with him; he'd told her that countless times:

"Rose, my biology is different. You and I can't… can't…"

"I know!"

She did know. She didn't think anything more about it. The Doctor, on the other hand, kept repeating it, as if worried she was one day going to wake up and realise she wanted someone else.

She stared at his head. He was sorely mistaken. There was no way, no way, she'd leave the Doctor. Not now, not ever. Hadn't she already told him that?

Sleeping together? The Doctor didn't sleep. So instead of that, she'd been waking up to him fiddling with a device or two, waiting for her to be ready. He didn't stay, Rose knew, because the past couple of nights she'd been plagued by nightmares, similar to the one she'd had just hours previous. When she woke up from these, she was alone in her room. She didn't mind, because she'd grown accustomed to dealing with her own problems, and she didn't want the Doctor to worry.

She resumed staring at his hair.

Kissing? The last time she'd kissed him was when they'd been in the alternate reality, and the Doctor and the Master had run to the TARDIS, trying to stop two Time Lords from destroying the planet…

Rose could still smell the blood of the Officer, still felt the terror welling up, felt the overwhelming hatred of Phantom…

She closed her eyes, willing the thoughts from her head.

Kissing? Yeah, she'd like to do it again. But somehow, the moment never seemed right, never seemed natural.

She pondered over that for a moment, before deciding quickly that she'd find a moment.

She'd start now.

She deliberately reached forward, brushing his hair out of the way tenderly, and he swivelled around quickly, eyes warm.

"Hello," Rose greeted. Saying 'morning' never seemed right, not unless they were on a planet anyway.

"Hello!" the Doctor stuffed the two devices back into one of his bigger-on-the-inside pockets.

"Any luck?" Rose asked as he dusted off his hands.

The Doctor frowned. "No. The energy's oscillating as it should, but I can't boost the signal any further, and I haven't found any evidence of Jorax's involvement in the damage."

Rose was unsurprised. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh," the Doctor grinned. "The TARDIS is mine, see, so I've been here quite a while."

Rose laughed. "In my room?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Not too long."

She knew what that meant. "In hours?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Around four."

Once again not surprised, she gave him a grin, before blushing lightly in embarrassment as her stomach yelled at her for food.

The Doctor smirked. "Have breakfast. I've eaten already." He stood.

Feeling a bit irritated that he'd eaten without her, Rose nodded and got up, following the Doctor out of her room and into the TARDIS kitchen. Automatically, she opened an organic-looking door, the TARDIS' version of a fridge, and pulled out the first cereal she came across, not bothering to see what it was. The TARDIS tended to pick food for them. Usually it was nice. While she prepared her breakfast, she made herself a cup of tea, offering one to the Doctor.

"Nah," the Doctor replied. "The TARDIS needs some repair work done. And I've got an idea for something else, but I don't know if it'll work."

A bit put out at his abrupt refusal, she nevertheless found herself curious. "What?"

He winked. "Something to do with the transporter device you got from the Master. Wait and see!" Then he waved a quick farewell and dashed off to the control room.

Rose's eyebrows furrowed. The transporter device, the thing that had been able to transport Rose and the Doctor across to the Master's reality, had been destroyed, well, had exploded, because of Phantom's decision to make things just that bit harder for the Doctor. The Doctor and Rose, once leaving Martha, had returned to the planet they'd been on – one of Rose's favourite planets, the one where she'd told him she'd be by him forever –, and had scavenged the remains of the device. They had planned to see if it could be fixed, but it only took one look to see that there was no way it could be fixed, and because the Doctor didn't have the necessary equipment, it couldn't be replicated either.

So what could he possibly be using it for?

She shrugged it off, deeming it as one of the many surprises she'd received over the time she had spent with the Doctor. Grabbing her tea and cereal, she settled down at the table. This, unlike the fridge, wasn't made by the TARDIS; instead, it was simply a modern polished wood table, a very light brown, with intricate carvings on its surface. The Doctor had very eclectic tastes, and he had purchased it to go with soft, 34th Century dining chairs, which were coloured a creamy white. He'd decided that on a whim.

Rose sipped her tea, enjoying the lovely taste; with the TARDIS helping out, the tea was only horrible when the TARDIS was in a foul mood, which was practically never. The TARDIS hummed at her briefly, Rose's morning greeting.

She was halfway through her cereal when she stopped, spoon hovering over the bowl.

She'd forgotten about the book, since the Doctor had finally read it, hours after she had initially gone looking for it.

…"Well, we can always search for the planet Terelis. It's one of the seven hundred Wonders of the Universe, you know. But it's always called Terelis the Lost, because no-one's been able to find it for over one million years. Apparently the inhabitants were big writers. They liked writing." The Doctor frowned slightly, deep in thought. "Their stories were so good it almost seemed as if they were writing future events. No one ever figured out how the stories were so good."

When there was no reply, he looked up. Rose had a look of deep thought on her face, and, if the Doctor concentrated, he could sense the faintest aura of confusion and awe surrounding her. Being one of the most ingenious individuals in the universe, he easily pieced together the clues. "You've seen one, haven't you? You've seen one! Where? When?"

"In the other universe… found by Torchwood in the sixteenth century," Rose replied. "They couldn't understand it. They had to get some special linguist to come in and translate it, 'cos none of the languages matched. The guy took about… uh… a bit over a year to translate it. Nobody knows how he did it. But he ran off with it for some reason. Torchwood thought he was just some mad hatter, so they let him go. Don't think they cared much for some strange book."

"Why not?!" the Doctor was quite irritated. "Books are the best. Better than guns. But that's Torchwood, right, look I've found a book! Let's get rid of it, we don't want to get smarter! Oh, look! I've found a gun! Yes, let's use it! We can be complete idiots and destroy everything that doesn't look like a human!" he glanced at Rose. "No offence."

Rose sighed, but grinned, and the Doctor knew he'd gotten away with it.

"Anyway, continue," the Doctor encouraged.

"Well, the book was found again buried in the Sonoran Desert."

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Rose was quick to clarify. "I've got no idea how it ended up there," she told him. "Torchwood chucked it in their archive."

"They didn't even bother reading it?!" the Doctor exclaimed in fury. His mind whirled. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why humans would be so wasteful. And he doubted he ever would.

Rose shook her head ruefully. "I found it though, one day. I was searching through, and I found it, and so I asked if I could have it when I found that nobody wanted it."

The Doctor frowned. "And they let you?"

"Well, sort of…" Rose glanced down in embarrassment. "Mickey stole it and gave it to me as a present. Said I should get my mind off y-… someone."

Taking no heed of the last sentences, the Doctor replied, "Do you have it with you?"

The events that had followed left the book forgotten momentarily, but Rose could remember what the Doctor's reaction was after he'd read it.

"What?! This makes no sense…" the Doctor took another minute to reread the book. Then he uttered a deep sigh. "Hmmm…"

Rose stared at him; he was deep in thought. Eager? Maybe. "What?"

"What?" the Doctor started, and looked at her. "Oh. Uh, cheap book, boring, more of a historical tale than anything. Don't bother reading it," he suggested, getting up. "You'd just get bored."

His words had just made her more curious, but between saving worlds and throwing herself back into life with the Doctor, she'd put it into the back of her head.

Now, though, the curiosity was back, and stronger than ever. So quickly, she stood and made her way back to her room, rummaging through her things until she came across it, and jogged back to the TARDIS' kitchen.

Taking another sip of her tea, she inspected the book more closely.

It had a faded brown leather cover, with creamy markings etched onto the front and back. It looked like a language, but the TARDIS wasn't translating it. Was the writing old, perhaps? Or was it just there for decorative purposes?

She opened to the first page. The pages were the colour and texture of parchment, but the words looked as though they'd been printed there just yesterday. She was surprised at this; it having spent centuries in the desert and millennia waiting to be found prior to that.

Even more curious now, she began to read as she ate.

A story begins with the tale of its origin. An origin that, if removed, would remove the foundations of the tale in which it was told. And time, where whims foretold, shifts and sputters and decides the foreground of the past and future. A life-rock, the third of Sol

Wait. Life-rock? Third of Sol? Sol Three? Earth? Was this set on Earth? Rose took another couple of sips of her tea, realising it was getting cold.

A life-rock, the third of Sol, bears the origin not of this tale, but of the birth. And the birth returns, in an age where belong it does not, a subsisting force against the weight of events yet to come. Events, that if retold, mark the beginning of the events.

Rose frowned. The Doctor was right. It made no sense. Events, that if retold, mark the beginning of the events? She gulped down the last dregs of her tea, reached for her spoon, and began digging into the remainder of her cereal. The book continued on it's philosophical nonsense for a couple of pages, serving to only confuse her. It would ramble about the passage of time in one paragraph, then jump suddenly to talk about different worlds, different creations. It warned about the dangers of being important, and then had a part saying, almost, that those who weren't important were worthless and forgotten. She frowned, idly placing her spoon in the bowl and pushing it to one side, having finished her food. What was the book getting at?

As surely as flowers wither and are reborn, clues inside origins point to events yet to come, but that have already passed. And although errors may seem to abound in the universe, but where there are mistakes there is truth. And that is something that everyone and everything must believe.

Truth tells all, and holds no boundaries. Truth is not fair, or wise, or forgiving. It is brutal, relentless, stopped only by words of a loved. Truth must never be used as a weapon, for it cannot stop, and it will never cease. Truth, is therefore, a synonym for time in this regard; indestructible, vicious, but also nurturing and loving. Though for those whose ways are deemed negative

"Rose!" the Doctor called cheerfully. "I'm done! You done?"

She closed the book quickly, happy for a reason to stop. She had found herself growing frustrated at the lack of a plot; she'd read a good twenty pages, and the book was either complete ramblings, or it was still in the introductory phase. Either way, she'd had enough, for now at least. "Yeah!"

The Doctor peered around the corner. "C'mon then!"

Rose grinned, leaving her bowl and the book where they were – the TARDIS did a great job cleaning – and joined the Doctor. Then, hand in hand, the Doctor dragged her, in his excitement, to the control room. "I've got a surprise for you!" he announced happily.

Rose smiled in anticipation, already having worked that part out. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take you somewhere you've never been!" the Doctor announced.

"Oh, really?" Rose replied sarcastically.

"You're right," he agreed amicably. "That was terrible."

She grinned.

He practically ran into the console, and pulled down a lever. Rose glanced at the display. For a while, ever since she'd first flown the TARDIS, she'd been able to read where they were going. The Doctor hadn't figured out how; but Rose just thought the TARDIS, happy to see her, had begun translating it.

The display told her they were approaching a galaxy that must've been named by humans.

"Sombrero galaxy?" she asked the Doctor with a grin.

The Doctor glared, somewhat disappointed. "How do you know?" he replied incredulously.

Rose smirked and tapped her head.

"Ah well," the Doctor said. "You haven't been here before, have you?"

"No." Rose shook her head.

"That's good!" the Doctor brightened up immediately. "Well, Rose, that's not all. While you were off eating breakfast – by the way, what did the TARDIS give you? She gave me some horrible bran."

"Some fruity cereal," she shrugged. "Dunno."

The Doctor looked at her jealously, and Rose beamed at him. "She likes me better than you!" Rose deduced, pleased.

"She does not!" the Doctor retorted.

"Does too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

The Doctor pouted, and Rose's smile grew. God, they were such children!

The Doctor grinned as well. "Well, while you were off having your lovely fruity cereal, I found a way to convert the Tribophysical Waveform Macro-Kinetic Extrapolator into the TARDIS systems!"

"But…" she trailed off, confused.

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, it got destroyed, but who cares?" the Doctor shone his megawatt grin. "I managed to salvage and repair some parts of the Tribophysical Waveform Macro-Kinetic Extrapolator; particularly the parts that can be connected to the TARDIS to maintain a shield."

Rose's eyes widened. "You mean like the shield when…"

"When Jack was with us? Yeah." The Doctor grinned. "Coming?" He pranced down to the doors, his excitement palpable.

Rose made to follow him, then realised something. "I'm still in my pyjamas!" Embarrassed, she glanced at the Doctor. "Should I get dressed?"

The Doctor smiled gently at her. "No! No need! No one's gonna see us!"

She nodded. That happened sometimes. Depended on where they went. She smiled at him, and bounded to the door, where the Doctor was waiting, hands on the handles.

"May I present…" the Doctor tried, and failed, to sound like a guest show announcer. "The Sombrero Galaxy!"

And he flung open the doors.

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A/N

I estimate that this story will be about the same length as Bubbles and Balloons, if not a bit bigger. By the way, the start of this chapter is from Parting of the Ways.

There is a lot in this chapter that hints to coming events, so any guesses are welcome! Try and puzzle it out. It's proven; puzzles are good for the mind. The chapter titles are also hints, if you can work them out.

For this story, also, I've decided not to thank every person after each chapter, as I did with the previous story. Instead, this time I'm only going to do that at the end. But I am going to reply to each and every review (except anonymous), so please, review!

SnowFox3