A Time of Grace

Romana returns, but an old enemy reappears as well. To protect what's left of Gallifrey, she travels time and space searching for a chance for the future and a way to escape the past.

Warnings: Moderately graphic sex, some strong language, discussion of domestic abuse, some violence, and spoilers through end of Season 3. Technically canon-compliant in almost every way, but definitely AU in the broader sense.
Notes: Many thanks to MayMargaret, Narsilion, and SnakeWhisperer for beta-reading at various points in the process, to the people of dw_britglish, and all who commented favorably on the standalone "tester" of Chapter 1 posted many months ago.

Art by boxed (LJ | comment) and Metztlimoon (LJ | e-mail | comment)

Prologue: Gallifrey at War

In the darkness above Gallifrey, Dalek ships burned through the Time Lord defense fleet.

"It's my fault," Romana told the reflection in her chamber window.

As she knew it would, a figure separated from the shadows behind her as Leela, her bodyguard, stepped out of the darkness. "It is not," the Human woman announced with her customary frankness. "War happens, no matter how wise the leader."

"But a wise leader doesn't lose the war. Your people knew that. What would you do to a chieftain who drew your tribe into a losing war?"

"We would stone them, and abandon them to the scavengers," Leela told her, and then her lips quirked up in one of her rare smiles. "But my tribe are not Time Lords. I do not think the council means to thow rocks at you."

"I don't think they mean to present me with the Most Holy Girdle of Rassilon, either," Romana grumbled.

"What is a--"

"It was a joke," Romana interrupted, raising her hand to forestall further questioning. "And a bad one, at that. Whatever it is the council wants from me, it isn't good. Endislatel and Corindis have been talking. Those two have hated each other since before my own mother was born, but lately they've been skulking off in corners together like students playing at their first tryst. They're up to something. I just wish I knew what."

Gallifrey simply wasn't used to battle - the Doctor was right, they had been complacent for too long. Too few soldiers and warriors filled the ranks of the Time Lords, and too many old politicians used to long debates and equally long decisions. In the face of as implacable and numerous a foe as the Daleks, of course matters would be difficult, but something niggled at the back of her mind. The Daleks had always been a formidable enemy, but there was something in their attacks of late... something preventing the Time Lords from quite grasping any advantage they might seek. It seemed almost familiar to her, somehow, as if...

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, followed by a voice. "Forgive me for interrupting your rest, Lady President..."

Romana recognized the oily tone immediately. Speak of the Devil, as the Doctor used to say... "Don't worry about it, Endislatel. Come in."

"Thank you, my lady." The old senator swept into her chamber, violet robes slicking the stone floor in his wake. Behind him came two more senators in red and in silver.

Romana set aside the cup of herbal tisane that had grown cold in her hand, then stood and inclined her head once to each. "What brings you here?"

The three glanced at each other, and then Endislatel stepped forward once again. "My lady, our efforts against the Daleks are not going well. My fellows and I... propose a solution to our current crisis, which we would like you to attend and consider."

Aha - I thought so. "Very well." Romana clasped her hands in front of her. "Explain."

"Many times in the past Gallifrey has produced certain... unsavoury characters, who have yet been found to be of use to us in times of need. You are... acquainted with one such element among us, I believe? The Doctor?"

Romana supressed a twitching smile at the sneering way Endislatel said this. He knew damned well that she was familiar with the Doctor - the 'great renegade in Time Lord history' had only just left Gallifrey, after spending the better part of a week in her personal and rather intimate company. The scandal surrounding their time together had been quite impressive, and one of the few bright spots in the recent dark months. "Yes. Go on."

"My lady president, we ask only that you consider... There are tools that we have yet to bring to our command, weapons that may yet give us an advantage against our enemies..."

Endislatel looked nervous. Romana felt a cold touch down her spine. "What are you asking? Tell me. Now."

"It would be easier," Corindis stepped in smoothly, "if you would follow us, my lady? We will show you what we mean."

"No." Romana shook her head. "Just tell me, Corindis. Or wait until morning. I will not be led through the citadel like a fool."

"You need only step outside, my lady," Leandrian assured her. "We know it is well past time for your rest. We will not detain you any longer than necessary, I assure you."

Romana hesitated for an instant, and then shook her head. "No. If you can't tell me, then--"

"Now!" Corindis shouted suddenly. Before Romana could react, Leandrian, who stood closest to her, grabbed both her arms and shoved her toward the door. The other two struggled with Leela, who had pulled one of her many hidden knives and attacked them, screaming with righteous anger. In a longer battle, the Human woman would doubtless have overcome both senators, but the door wasn't far, and as soon as it was opened a small phalanx of guards joined the fray on Endislatel and the others' behalf. Three of them grabbed Romana from her captor and hauled her toward what looked like some kind of pod.

"You've made enemies for Gallifrey, President Romana - powerful enemies," the oldest of the senators intoned as the guards dragged Romana forward. "Enemies who threaten the very existence of our people in a way that they have not been threatened in all the long years since Rassilon himself. You've brought war to our world and death to our people. If you will not make the decisions required to put a stop to that, then the council will." She smiled. "Not all of your enemies are our enemies. Don't worry. We will protect Gallifrey in your absence."

"What do you think--"

Chapter 1: Out of Time, Out of Mind

There was a... thing, in the Tardis control room.

The Doctor had picked it up on a dark, ravaged moon in the Equinos system - one of those places he hadn't really meant to go to, but had nonetheless found himself landing on after entering random coordinates into the Tardis' systems. The last time he'd been there there had been the first tiny, delicate sparklings of life beginning to burst out on its icy, rocky surface. Now, nothing.

Nothing except this thing. The thing, as he'd begun to think of it. It was almost at the point of developing independent capitalization in his mind, and that was, in his experience, never a good sign.

The thing came up to about the top of his breast-bone, and was about as wide as his arms could reach around, though it tapered a bit at the top. When he first saw it he'd had the sick thought that it was a new kind of Dalek armour that had somehow survived the war, but closer inspection hadn't borne that out. It was gold, but the shape and design of it was completely unlike their circular knobules and venting. It wasn't made of dalekenium, anyway, but some other metal equally impervious to all the scans he'd subjected it to. The elemental make-up seemed somehow familiar, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

He'd had it aboard the Tardis for nearly an hour, now, and half of him wanted to just drop the thing back off on the moon and leave it there. An unknown piece of technology couldn't be a good thing, and there were traces of vortex energy on the damned thing, too, which made him suspicious. Maybe it was another weapon created by either the Time Lords or the Daleks - one that had failed to detonate but which might go off if he tampered with it too much.

On the other hand, he couldn't seem to quite make himself leave it, either. It was like the thing wanted his attention. Every time he started to shove it toward the Tardis' door he found himself getting distracted by it, thinking of some new test he could put it through, or just wondering to himself something like 'but what if it's important?'

That was the most disturbing part of the thing. The Doctor didn't trust any inanimate object that seemed to have an influence on his thoughts.

And yet...

His most recent scan seemed to indicate that the thing could be opened, via the application of a reasonably complex series of calculations and codes. At least that way he would know for sure.

Suppose I can hardly do more damage than I've already done, he thought bitterly, rubbing the sleeves of his leather coat. Something about the thing made him feel cold inside his head. "Maybe you'll finish the job I was supposed to do, hmm?" he asked the thing. "Maybe you'll kill me. Be a nice change."

So he set the Tardis' computers to applying the calculations, and then waited, watching the thing. When it opened, he told himself, he would be prepared. This time, he'd make sure he was the only one who got hurt.

The thing opened.

"--you're doing to me?!" a woman screamed as she fell out of the thing. "I am the Lord President of Gallifrey and I--what in Rassilon's name is going on here!"

The woman wore long red robes with a high, wide collar that arced behind her neck, and her blonde hair flowed out from under a thin red circlet. A flash of brightly colored pain woke in the Doctor's head, in the part of his mind that had been frantically, desperately silent these last long months, ever since he awoke after his regeneration. Hot on the tail of the pain was recognition, in his mind and in his eyes both.

Time Lord. And not just any Time Lord...

"Romana?" he choked.

She turned on him, throwing back her thin shoulders and jerking her chin up in that haughty way that must have thrilled the election committee on Gallifrey, right until they instated her as president and she started using it on them as well. "Doctor. I might have known you would be involved in this somehow. Where did they go?"

"Who?"

"The senators, of course. Endislatel and the others. Where did they go? You're working with them, aren't you? You, Doctor, of all people... I can't believe it. How could you?"

"I--what?" Completely gobsmacked, the Doctor could only stare blankly at her. Speechless wasn't something that happened to him very often, but now? Definitely a word that applied.

Romana, however, seemed to have more than enough words for both of them.

"You have important work to be doing, you arrogant fool," she yelled, "but no, you think you can do better than that, don't you? You think I'm not clever enough, not good enough at strategy? Well, I'll have you know, I'm not your assistant anymore, Doctor. I am the duly elected Lord President of Gallifrey, and you..." She paused suddenly, and her brow furrowed. "What's happened to your face? And your hair, why is it so short?"

The Doctor was too shocked to not answer. "I've regenerated."

"Since this morning? Honestly, Doctor, I know you seem to take some kind of perverse pride in going through regenerations faster than most people change outfits, but this is simply ridiculous. Very petty of you. I've given you a very important assignment, one that might mean the difference between life and death for Gallifrey, and you can't expect to properly accomplish it if you keep losing bodies like this! Anyway, the last one was quite pretty. This..." She scrunched up her face, examining him with a dark look. "Well, I suppose it will do, for the war. It's very... martial. I wouldn't have thought you had the control to manage that."

His head swam, unused to the energy and feedback of another Time Lord's mind so close to his. He felt nearly giddy with it. "I don't... Romana... you're dead."

She gave him a Look. It was one he recognized very well - the one that said 'now I understand why your marks at the Academy were so much lower than mine.' "Of course I'm not dead. Don't be silly."

"You died... you all died! All of you, all of Gallifrey, I--" The memories crashed down on him, and then he realized. The thing had to be a stasis chamber. She'd emerged in the middle of an argument, with the council she'd said... They must have stuffed her in there for safe-keeping. To keep the president alive, no matter what happened to Gallifrey itself. One last chance for the Time Lords, to be protected at all costs. She was alive. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of him and he swept her up into his arms. "You're alive, Romana! I thought you were dead, but you're--oww!!" He dropped her to her feet. "You kicked me!"

"Of course I kicked you, you're behaving like a madman." Romana shook out her robes and frowned severely at him. "This is no time to devolve into insanity, Doctor, no matter how long you've been headed for it; I need you whole and sane for this war."

Darkness clenched at his stomach. "The war's over."

"Over?" She blinked. "I'm going to kill those fools in the council when I find them."

"You can't kill them. They're dead. Everyone's dead, Romana."

"Everyone," she repeated, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Everyone except me. Well, us."

Romana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "You're lying."

"I'm not," the Doctor assured her gently. "I did what you told me, and... Listen. You don't hear them, do you? Inside your head, you know it's the truth."

She turned her back on him and closed her eyes. "You're blocking everything out!"

"You know I'm not a strong enough telepath to do that, Romana. Anyway, why would I?" He walked up behind her and touched her shoulder gently. "I failed you. I failed everyone. I'm sorry, Romana. I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" She didn't turn, but he could hear a quaver in her voice, feel a shake in her shoulder that she immediately suppressed. "Tell me everything."

He told her. He told about the mission she'd sent him on, about the fall of Arcadia and a thousand other worlds he'd watched succumb to the power of the Daleks or the sheer destructive power of the war itself, about the last weapon and how it had finally come down to the choice they had both secretly anticipated - destroy Gallifrey along with the Daleks, or let the war destroy everything in the universe. He told her how he had used the weapon, how he had pressed the button and watched them all burn, the Time Lords and the Daleks together, all the vortex screaming with fire. He had watched the jewel of Gallifrey burn in the darkness, and then he'd been caught in the flame himself, and lost consciousness.

"I thought I was dead. But then I woke up, and I'd regenerated, and... everything was empty."

"How long?"

"It's been a few months, relative time. About a year since the last time I saw you."

"I can't believe they did this to me," she growled. "Locked up in a box, right when Gallifrey needed me most..."

"They wanted to protect you..."

"They wanted me out of the way." Romana turned to him, her jaw set and her lips tight, Leandrian's words still echoing in her mind. "You know them, Doctor. Don't delude yourself. They didn't suddenly become good and noble just because we were at war. They were still the same officious fools we've always known. They were up to something and decided that I would get in the way, so they thought it would be easier to just get rid of me. They would have told anyone who asked that I was safely in hiding, maybe some of them even believed that, but really..." She shook her head. "They probably just stuffed the stasis unit in a closet somewhere and forgot about it. I'm lucky it was well-shielded, or I'd be dead with everyone else."

Everyone else. They both stood there for a moment, each unable to meet the other's eyes, and then Romana lifted her hand to her temple, lowering her head. The emptiness echoed in her head, turning silence into an ache that throbbed through her cortex. "That's it, then. I've presided over the end of Time Lord society. A civilization millions of years old, and I..."

"You didn't do it."

"Neither did you, but you're doing a good enough job of blaming yourself, aren't you?"

"I was there. I saw it happen, I made it happen--"

"Who gave you those orders, Doctor?" Romana shook her head. "I told you before, I was not your assistant, I was your president! You can't step in and take this responsibility out of my hands. I gave the order. You simply carried it out."

"I could have refused," he pointed out stoically.

"You knew it had to be done," Romana reminded him, "and you were the only one who would do it. That's why I chose you. You were the only one I could trust to actually do it."

"You chose me personally to destroy our civilization, because I was the only one you were sure you could convince to commit genocide twice over." The Doctor scowled at her. "Thanks for that."

"You needn't misinterpret it so willfully," Romana snapped. "I trusted you, that's all."

"Yeah, and see where it got us. Me wandering the universe alone, and you trapped in a box on an ice-moon."

They stood in silence for a long moment.

"Let's get out of here," Romana said softly.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. It doesn't matter anymore." She turned and walked away into the depths of the Tardis. The Doctor watched until she'd gone out of sight, and then set to work on the Tardis.

Hours later, having set coordinates into the Tardis, done all the routine maintenance checks he could think of, repaired a few burned-out circuits, and set her on autopilot, the Doctor decided it was safe to go looking for Romana. He found her in the wardrobe, sitting on the stairs with her chin on her hands, staring into nothingness. Clothes were strewn all around her, but she still hadn't changed out of her red presidential robes. Only the circlet was gone, hanging cock-eyed on one of the racks as if she'd thrown it away in a fit of pique.

"You got rid of my room," she accused.

"I had to, a long time ago. The Master--"

She continued right over him as though he'd never spoken. "I wanted my old trousers and the red jacket that I left in there. These robes are pointless, now."

"Ah, yes, a change of clothes is always the answer to a problem of existential angst," the Doctor snarked before he could stop himself. She always had brought that out in him.

"You certainly aren't wearing the velvet frock coat and cravate any more, I notice," she snarled back. "And you've cut off all your hair. It's practically the end of a tragic melodrama, the way you're dressing now. Anyway, it's weird, you without hair."

"That's how this regeneration came."

She didn't answer, didn't even look up at him, and usually a remark about his regenerations were good for at least a few minutes of lecturing from her about how if he'd only paid attention in school he wouldn't have so much trouble. Might even be able to choose a better nose, or a face that didn't look so much like the crags of a rock-face about to split open in that silly, toothy grin she'd liked so much. It wasn't like Romana to be silent, even when she was hurt or angry... or both. The Doctor sat down on the step beside her and awkwardly laid his arm around her shoulders... and was shocked when she turned in toward him, burying her face in the worn leather of his jacket. Her whole body shook with barely-restrained tears.

"Shhh..." He pulled her closer, and she let him, body and mind both reaching out, clinging to him as if he was the last solid thing in the universe. And she cried. Romana - once president of Gallifrey and always one of the proudest beings he'd ever known - curled sobbing in his arms, and all he could do was hold her, feeling awkward and half-panicked. He'd never done well with crying.

He could have made her stop. He remembered enough about Romana to know that if he'd said something like 'there, go on then, have your cry,' she would have stopped immediately, would have diverted all that emotion into yelling at him for patronizing her like that, for treating her like a child, like a Human, like something less than what she was and always had been. But... she deserved it, didn't she? She deserved a good cry. He'd certainly had a few in the months since he woke up, and she'd been so strong during the war, so brave. She'd led their people with courage and wisdom and had never once wavered from what needed to be done. Not even when they both knew it would mean the end of all she loved. She'd done everything she could, and none of it mattered now.

He kissed her hair and rubbed her back while she cried it all out.

The Doctor was different now, Romana thought. That, at least, was normal.

He was a Time Lord, and it didn't bother Romana to see him in a different body, wearing a different face. He was still the Doctor - her Doctor. She could still hear the murmur of his mind, quicksilver and so very clever, in the back of her own thoughts. She'd missed that, in the years they'd been apart. His mind had a wonderfully comforting patter to it, inconsequential thoughts leading right into brilliant insights and back on out to trivialities again. It had irritated her when they first met - he'd been among the primative specieses he loved for so long he couldn't even seem to think straight, so disorganized and strange! - but she'd come to like it. To love it, even. And now that familiar pattern lay over her mind like a heavy blanket, numbing the pain and blocking out the emptiness that gaped beyond the two of them.

This new Doctor was quieter, more solemn, harder than the man she'd known before. All of that had been in him, but it had been buried so deep, under layers of bright colors and silly smiles. He felt raw, now, as if all the excesses of his past lives had been burned away in the fires of Gallifrey and the Dalek fleet. She still missed the funny face, or the pretty, poetic one he'd worn during the war, but this new one wasn't bad. With her eyes closed, the differences were smaller, but there was still leather under her cheek instead of wool or velvet, and no curls brushed her forehead when she laid her head on his shoulder.

When she kissed his neck, he jerked away from her.

"Stop that. You're not thinking straight," he said softly, in that strange, rough accent he'd dredged from somewhere in his memories to match this new body.

She kissed him again, licking up to his ear this time and nuzzling it softly as she brushed her fingers over his prickly scalp. "Our people are gone. Our planet is destroyed. I don't want to think. I want to forget."

The hands on her back stilled and he seemed to freeze, steeling himself against her. "Romana... Are you sure this is what you want?"

"What are you worried about?"

"That you'll regret it." His voice was tense, his eyes practically gleaming. He'd been alone all these months, his mind whispered, and he was torn between desperation to end that loneliness and unwillingness to let her do now, in her sorrow, that she would regret once she'd recovered herself. They had always been too

"I want to forget, Doctor. And I want to remember better times. Our better times." She shifted in his arms, moving so she straddled his thighs, and ran her fingers under the leather jacket, along the collar of his dark, knitted jumper, right atop the exposed skin over his collarbone. "Remember with me."

He moaned softly in the back of his throat, interested despite his effort at restraint, just as she'd hoped. He was hard against her, under his heavy black jeans, and she arched shamelessly against him, shifting aside the presidential robe until it rode up and she rubbed against the rough fabric of his jeans, wetting it as she moved slowly against him.

"Romana..." It was more of a groan than a word.

She remembered the tone, if not the voice, and paused in her movement, lifting herself up a bit so she hovered just barely touching him, her bare thighs taut and the robe falling down on either side of them. "Yes, Doctor?" she asked her in sweetest voice. "Is something wrong?"

"You're a creature of pure evil, Romana," he growled, and she smiled at him.

"Can I take that as a yes, then?" She rested her hand on the zipper of his jeans. "Just say the word..."

"Yes."

She grinned, triumphant. "I thought as much. Thank you."

She undid the button and zipper quickly, and laughed when he lifted them both up for a moment to push the jeans down to his ankles. She took hold of him, smoothing her thumb gently over his tip as she positioned herself over him and then lowered slowly, teasing them both for a moment before impaling herself on his cock. This, too, was familiar but different. He was different, a new body that she'd never felt before, but the same mind touching hers, reaching into her thoughts even as he settled his hands on her hips, lifting her slowly to slide out and then bringing her down again, slow and deep, filling her mind as well as her body. His rough, callused hands pushed the robes up her stomach, over her breasts, she let go of his shoulders long enough to slip out of the sleeves and let them pass off over her head. She peeled back first the jacket, then his sweater and tossed them away, letting her hands clutch warm, bare skin and more muscle than he'd had before. Maybe this body really had made itself for the war. If it had, it was the only good thing that had come out of it.

He kissed and licked at her breasts and neck while she explored his chest and arms with her hands, then her lips, then her tongue. They rocked together slowly at first, and then faster as they got used to each other again, remembered the rhythm of four hearts beating and two bodies desperate for release.

"Doctor," she moaned. "My Doctor."

"I can't believe you're here." He pulled her down to him again, harder this time, faster, and she bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. "You're here. You're safe, that's... more than I ever hoped..."

"No more about that. We're forgetting."

He grinned brilliantly, and a shock of recognition went through her at seeing almost the same smile on such a different face. "We should forget more often, maybe. I like how you do it."

She tried to give him a snide look, but failed completely as his fingers slipped between them and found the nub of nerves above where they slid together. He rubbed at it gently at first, and then with more certainty as she whimpered and pressed against him, her rhythm growing more erratic as she lost control to the sensations. At the last their minds wrapped around each other and in one another, telepathic connections finding the place in both their minds where pleasure was a tangible, white-hot thing that filled every pore. Every nerve caught and flamed, feeding on itself, pleasure on pleasure until they both broke with a single, violent cry that came from two mouths, in two voices.

They rode the pleasure to its end, out past the point where it became almost painful, and then settled back to stillness, their minds and bodies both still entwined. Romana rested her chin on the Doctor's shoulder, and then, after a long moment too heavy with bliss to risk movement, shifted to push her hair out of her face.

That seemed to wake the Doctor out of his own post-coital silence. He never had kept quiet for long. "Can we move off the stairs? My back... ouch."

She laughed at how petulant he sounded. "You're getting old, Doctor," she remarked coyly, and then laughed harder when he swatted her bare bottom. "Ooo. Now that's an idea for later..."

"Tease." He stuck his tongue out at her, and she darted forward to kiss him, just barely missing as he caught her by the shoulders. "Just get up before I tweak something I might need later. We can keep going on the sofa if you're so eager."

"I don't remember a sofa in the wardrobe," Romana remarked as she stood up akwardly and tried to step over the Doctor's legs without stepping off the step they were on.

"Shows what you know about the Tardis." The Doctor waited until she was clear of him, then stood himself, picking his way around the litter of their discarded clothes and boots. "She's got a sofa if I need a sofa, and I need a sofa. So there is one. Ouch. Over there." He paused to stretch, and Romana took a moment to enjoy the view. "Oi. Stop gawkin'."

"Why? You can gawk at me if you want." She shook out her hair and stood calmly in front of him, hands rested on her hips, naked in the middle of the wardrobe.

"Just seems silly, that's all," he groused.

"What, looking at each other now that we've already had sex?" She shrugged. "I didn't need to look to see how everything went. This is just for fun, now. Did you know you have a mole, just here?" She pointed to the side of her own hip.

"How would I know that?"

"You can use a mirror, can't you?" She grinned wickedly. "Although given your taste in clothes..."

"All right, that's enough." He strode over to her and silenced her with a long kiss. When they parted, he looked oddly thoughtful. "I'd almost forgotten, y'know?"

"What?" Romana asked, a bit dazedly.

"How irritating you can be when you want to." He pulled a face, and then swatted at her again, which she avoided this time. "Now go on. Sofa. I want to lie down for a bit, and I'm not laying down on the floor."

"Having a lie-down after just that little bit of fun..." Romana clicked her tongue at him as he sprawled out on the raggedy old sofa the Tardis had provided, and perched herself at the other end, on the arm. "You really are getting old, if you're tired after that. I did most of the work. Maybe you've been alone too long."

"Yeah, well, just an old lazy-bones, then, me." He yawned. "You joinin' me, or what?"

"Maybe I'll go find my own fun." This was fun, teasing him again. Like old times. It made it easier to forget... everything. This light-heartedness couldn't last, but the longer she extended it, the longer they could pretend that everything was normal, everything was as it should be. "Maybe I'll teach you a lesson. Let's see..."

She disappeared behind the racks of clothes for a moment, and imagined the Doctor sitting up just a bit, craning his neck to try to see where she'd gone. After a suitable interval, she found what she was looking for, and slipped back out from behind the racks... with her old white scarf draped around her, and nothing else.

"Ah." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Found that again, did you?"

"I put it back here, not in my room, since I never wore it much. Good thing, or I'd have had to find one of your old scarves, and just think all the nasty things those have been dragged through."

"They're clean. The clothes in here are always clean."

Romana rolled her eyes. "I don't trust you or your ship with laundry. This, however..." She trailed the fringe over her breast and smirked at the way his eyes followed the motion. "I know this is clean."

"So... what are you doing with it, then?"

She sprawled out over the back of the sofa, looking down at him as she dangled the scarf over his face. "I'm not sure yet. I have a few ideas..."

He tilted his head back, watching her with an intent but relaxed expression. "Any of them involve you comin' down here?"

"They might..." She trailed the scarf's ends over his chest, and down his stomach as he rolled over on his back to watch her. "If you're good."

"I'm always good, me." He grinned, and Romana couldn't help grinning back, it was so much that old familiar smile. His daft old grin on his new daft face. This was a good regeneration, and it was good to have him back in her life. At least she wouldn't have to be totally alone, as long as they were together. Gallifrey... Romana tamped down on that thought as soon as it entered her mind. No thinking of Gallifrey. Not yet. Just the Doctor. The Doctor was all that mattered now, him and being with him, having him with her.

"All right, then..." She slid down onto his chest, smiling fondly at him, and then grabbed his hands quickly as she could and tried to get the scarf wrapped tightly around them. She didn't move quite fast enough, though, and this Doctor's fingers were longer than the one she'd last known, or at least longer than she'd remembered them being, because he caught both her wrists in one hand and held them firmly, wrapping the scarf and tying it.

"Maybe I'm not as tired as I thought," the Doctor suggested lazily.

"I thought you might say something like that..."

"So you planned this, huh?"

She took in their situation. "Not exactly like this."

"You thought you'd still be in charge, I bet."

Romana smiled and ground her hips against his. "Who says I'm not?"

"Hmm. Me." Without any further warning, he threw his weight and flipped them.

Romana squealed as they just barely avoided falling off the sofa. Then she squeaked again, for an entirely different reason. "You're heavy!" she protested, trying to shove his shoulder with her elbow, which was made much trickier by the fact that he was still holding her two hands tied together above her head. "Get up!"

"Sorry." Just as he shifted his weight, the cloister bell rang. "Hmph. Figures. All right, disaster first, fun later..."

Romana waited a moment as he got up and started hunting around the wardrobe for his discarded clothing. "Doctor?"

"What?"

She coughed significantly. "Could you come over here just a moment?"

"Romana, we don't have time for games. You remember what the cloister bell means, don't you, so come on, let's figure this out, and then I promise I'll pay you however much attention you want..."

"That would be lovely." Romana held out her hands, giving her companion a significant - and slightly dire - look. "But before you do that, it might just help if you came back here and untied me."

The Tardis, as it turned out, had a very good reason for sounding the alarm.

"That's impossible." The Doctor leaned over Romana's shoulder.

"Read it yourself, then."

"But we can't be trapped in the Vortex. It's not possible."

"So you say." Romana turned her back on the console, crossing her arms over her chest. "And yet, here we are." The outfit she'd found didn't particularly help the impression she gave off - in the rush to get up to the control room, she'd grabbed one of his old frock coats, which she'd belted with her old white scarf, wrapped multiple times around her waist and once over her shoulder as a sort of a sash. Underneath, she wore only knee-high pair of boots that, luckily, seemed to have either belonged to her or to another of his former companions who was very close to her size. She looked more like a child playing at pirates than the former president of Gallifrey.

"But there's nothing that could do that, nothing except maybe..."

"The Guardian."

The Doctor frowned. "Well, sure, he could--"

"No." Romana nodded toward the external monitor. "The Guardian. There."

A communication display had activated showing the semblance of an elderly man clad in white clothes like a country gentleman on a summer's holiday. He inclined his head toward them majestically. "Ah, The Doctor and Lady Romana. It's been too long."

"Since you tried to trick us into giving you the Key to Time, you mean," Romana snapped.

"The female of the species - so unforgiving of the smallest slight. Don't you agree, Doctor?"

"And before that, you tortured me," Romana continued.

"Such an ugly word, torture. I prefer to think that we all had a part to play, and I provided you a bit of inducement to play yours with true vigor."

"Spin it however you want," the Doctor put in roughly, "we're not playing your game this time, Guardian."

"Really? I rather thought you might be interested this time. What is there left for you to lose, after all?" The old man smiled benignly at them. "Such a pity about Gallifrey - a lovely world. And the Time Lords with it... except the two of you. A sad fate for a proud people... but a noble leader, with a bit of help, could restore all that glory..."

"And I suppose you'd be that help, for just the smallest price? As though I'd believe you," Romana snapped. "What kind of fool do you take me for, after last time?"

The Guardian sighed, the image of a long-suffering patriarch saddened but unsurprised by the antics of his descendents. "I thought as much, but I do love a good last chance. I'm afraid there's simply one option, if you won't take my generosity. I promised you both, after the last time we worked together, that you would pay for your insolence. The Time Lords have outlived their usefulness, and I find that I can be rid of all of them in one swipe," he added with a cheery smile.

The Tardis suddenly shook, and the cloister bell, which had been silent since they began their conversation with the Guardian, started back up with renewed urgency.

"Goodbye, children." The Guardian waved his hand jauntily. "Do enjoy the last few minutes of your lives, and give my regards to your people. Assuming there is such a thing as the afterlife, I'm sure they will all be very eager to chat with the architect and the executor of their collective demise." As he spoke, another volley rocked the Tardis, and both Time Lords grabbed onto the console to keep from falling. The communication screen clicked to black.

"I knew he'd be a problem. I told you--" Romana paused as another volley threw her off balance and nearly cast her to the floor. "I told you he'd be a problem. All those years ago..."

"All because we didn't do what he wanted," the Doctor confirmed, his voice bitter.

Another sharp hit threw them both to the floor this time, and the Tardis' alarms took on a frantic quality.

"He's going to rip us apart!"

"I'm getting that idea, yes." The Doctor hauled himself up, holding tightly to the central console, and started punching buttons and rerouting wires with a fevered intensity. "If I can just get us out of here--"

"You said we were trapped!"

"We were, but that was before I knew what was attacking us. I thought we might just be caught in an eddy of some kind - there's no point tearing the Tardis apart to get out of something like that. If it's this or die, there might be something we can do... You know, you could be using all those fancy marks you're always gloating about, right now. Help me reroute all the power to the engines."

"All of it?" Romana hesitated, staring at the console. So many of its parts had been replaced with random junk that she honestly couldn't tell what was what anymore. How did he live like this?

"Life support and everything else isn't going to do us any good if we can't get the Tardis and ourselves out of this!"

"Fine, but where did you hide the power coupling?"

"It's attached to that circuit board there. Unplug it and link it in to the box just above the bicycle pump."

Romana lifted the cable. It was fraying at one point, and patched at several others with some kind of silvered tape. "If we survive this, we're finding somewhere civilized to stop for parts," she growled, and then bent to her work. "I'm surprised you haven't electrocuted yourself yet."

"What's a little electric charge in the course of saving the universe?"

"You're joking."

The Doctor just gritted his teeth and continued frantically working the controls. Something popped, and a cloud of steam puffed up from a fissure on the column. "No, no, no, no... come on, old girl, come on. We've got to get away... Aha!"

The battered old Tardis creaked and moaned, its cloister bell ringing almost as constantly as the churchbells when they'd visited Paris all those years ago, but some combination of their efforts had succeeded - they ripped away from the Guardian's trap and hurtled into the void. The Doctor fiddled with the controls for a while longer, and then leaned against the console and took in a deep sigh.

"That was a close one," he announced after a moment, and grinned.

"Yes." And it won't be the last, Romana thought. The Guardian had waited this long to find them. How hard could it be, now, to track the only remaining Tardis in the universe, and the last two living Time Lords with it?

"We'll have to keep the coordinates on random for a while," the Doctor continued. As though that would make a difference to a being as advanced as the Guardian.

"He'll keep coming," Romana reminded him when she couldn't hold the silence any longer. "He'll keep after us, whenever we let our guard down."

"We just won't, then."

"It's not that easy, and you know it."

"What else do you want, Romana?"

"I want a little bit of reason. I want honesty, and for you to accept that we have a very serious problem. At the moment, you and I are the most threatened species in the entire universe, and the Guardian is a very dangerous enemy."

"He waited centuries before hitting us this time. He could wait centuries more again."

"Things happened in the war," Romana admitted, her voice dark. "Things we couldn't explain. The Guardian would explain a lot of those things."

"Why didn't you tell me--"

"Because it didn't involve you, Doctor. Contrary to your feeling on the subject, not everything important in the universe does."

"Well, it does now."

I was the President of Gallifrey. I convinced the Doctor not to hand the Key over. It was all my fault. The cozy, organic arches of the Tardis' control room suddenly felt too close, too confining, as though they were growing still, closing in around her. She swallowed convulsively.

"I've got to... I'll be back later," Romana told him in a strained voice.

If the Doctor responded to her departure, she didn't hear him. She was too focused on getting as deep into the Tardis as she could, and finding a place that it might take him a while to follow to. She needed quiet, and peace, and time to think - all things that she'd long since found she'd never have in the Doctor's presence. Lonely as he was, that wasn't likely to have changed in the years since they'd traveled together.

And he was lonely, wasn't he? Almost desperately so - she'd felt that in his mind as it rushed to meet hers earlier, and in the way he hadn't broken off the lowest levels of telepathic link between them in all the time since. With all the emptiness around them, the complete lack of the background noise of the rest of Gallifrey, she could understand that - she'd probably feel it herself, as soon as they were parted. But was it fair to put him in danger just because she was afraid of hurting him, and of her own loneliness?

The Guardian would be back, she thought, or would send agents to find them, and he would be eager to be finished with them once and for all. He didn't seem like a man to leave loose ends untied. And if they were together, it would only make them easier to catch. The last of the Time Lords, destroyed with one single, pathetic strike. And whatever had happened, however few of them were left, the Time Lords were her responsibility. If her species faded into extinction while she was president, it was all her fault. History would remember her as the president who let it all happen, who let one of the most ancient species in the universe disappear because she didn't want to die alone. If, at the end of time, she was called to stand before Rassilon and all her predecessors, they'd have a good laugh at her expense - the little girl who thought she was so clever, who let it all slip between her fingers.

Well, she'd be damned before she let that happen, if there was any way around it.

"We'll just make a few hops, land only for a few minutes on each one, to throw him off our trail, and then..."

Romana was not listening to the Doctor. This wasn't particularly surprising - as she remembered her time with him, she rather thought she'd spent most of her time not listening to him, and him equally not listening to her. It was amazing how well that had worked out for both of them, all things considered. This time, she was not-listening because she was trying to figure out how best to interrupt him and break her news.

"And I thought we could take at least a little time on that tropical moon you liked so much. It's not like he'd expect us to stop for a vacation right now, so we might as well take a little bit of time to enjoy ourselves."

"In case we die tomorrow, you mean?"

The Doctor frowned at her. "I just thought--"

"I know. But Doctor, it's not going to work."

"What isn't?"

"This. You and I. Hiding from the Guardian." She laughed abruptly, a hard sound that, but one that he'd never expected to hear from her again. "One good shot, one jump a little too slow because this old Tardis can't quite keep up... and our whole species is gone. Unless there are more of us, hiding somewhere," she added quickly, not giving him time to interrupt and argue. "You couldn't hear me, before, when I was in the box. We might not be the last, and if there are others who've escaped... they're my responsibility. If there's any possibility, I have to find them. I have to restore whatever I can of what we've lost."

"Romana..."

"Don't, Doctor. I was wrong before. I am still the President of Gallifrey. And I need to start acting like it again. This creature... this Guardian, he was a part of what happened to us, why we lost the war. I understand, now - he was one of the allies the senators mentioned, and he was working against us the whole time. And he's going to pay for that."

"We'll go together. We'll look for the others, and we'll... we'll find a way to fight the Guardian, Romana. You and I. We always were a good team--"

"No, Doctor. Not anymore. You've already done so much. I asked so much of you." She stepped away from the console she'd been leaning against and looked up at him, memorizing the craggy new features and the bright blue eyes. They suited him, so brilliant and earnest. "It's time for you to rest. You've earned it." And then she reached behind her back, and pushed a single button, its purpose already prepared and set while he wasn't paying attention. He never had really known the capacities of his own ship.

"Romana!"

Golden energy, pure and bright, rushed out of the Tardis' console and coursed up his arms, flickering over his jacket and up to his head, where it poured into his eyes like tears running backwards. He fell to his knees, clawing helplessly at his face.

"I'm sorry, Doctor." Romana knelt in front of him, watching. Real tears welled up in her eyes, but she bit them back. There was no turning back, now. "I know how hard you find it to follow orders. I knew it would be easiest for both of us if I helped matters along a bit. You won't remember - not any of this. Someday, maybe, if I do what needs to be done... When we meet again, it will all come back to you, I promise. The memories aren't gone, just hidden where only I know how to release them."

He cried out, anguished, and Romana bit her lip and forced herself not to close her eyes, to watch as the energy burned through his synapses, rerouting connections and building the necessary barriers to block his memory of her, and mask the telepathic connection that would let him track or recognize her.

"It's better this way. He can't use either of us to find the other. And he would. He'd capture one of us, and... We can't take that risk."

Its job done, the energy began to fade, just a flicker now and then across his face or hands, and the Doctor slumped, unconscious, against the central column. Behind their lids, his eyes darted furiously for a moment, and then slowed into a more peaceful sleep. "If I stayed with you," Romana whispered, "I wouldn't be able to fight him when he came. I need to be alone, I need... I need to be ruthless. I can't be that when I'm with you."

She bent forward and took his face gently in her hands, and kissed his forehead.

"Someday, Doctor. If I can, I'll find you again, someday. For now... forget. And live. For both of us."

Romana knelt there a moment longer, watching his tired, young-old face slip into the peaceful slackness of true rest, and then stood and set an automatic journey into the Tardis' computer. She'd give herself just enough time to land at their first destination and get herself out before the ship set off again for another randomly-generated set of coordinates, all before the Doctor awoke with no memory of the past twenty-four hours. No memory of her, except as a dead woman he'd long since left behind. The last of the Time Lords once again.

"It's for the best," she repeated to the glowing green column. The Tardis didn't answer.

An hour later, the President of Gallifrey departed the last Tardis in the universe wearing a ratty, outsized jacket over a rough men's shirt and trousers, tucked into knee-high boots. She left the white scarf in the wardrobe. She didn't think he'd miss it, but she didn't want the reminder, and it would stand out, anyway. On an unknown planet, a new day was dawning over a silvered city - a human colony, she thought. Even when it was set on random, the Tardis always seemed to find the Doctor's favorite species. They had ships, she could see, and technology at least advanced enough to use them. It wouldn't be a bad place to start.

She paused on a hill covered in dry yellow grass, and turned to watch the Tardis pulse slowly out of sight. Then she turned around, pulled the old brown hat lower over her eyes, and started the long walk toward the city.

Chapter 2 - Help from an Unexpected Quarter

"Looking for someone, sweet?" A tall, fleshy man with dark blond hair hanging in his eyes leaned into Romana's path as she stepped off the freighter she'd hitched a ride on.

Romana looked him over quickly. "Not especially," she told him, and walked onward, past the cluster of other passengers disentangling their bags and packages out of the mess a porter had dumped unceremoniously on the deckplates. Romana was grateful for the Time Lord technology that allowed her to carry everything she needed to get by in her pockets, without a lump to tempt a pickpocket. All the basic essentials of hygeine, of course, a few necessary tools, a credit chip with money conveniently procured through judicious use of the sonic screwdriver she'd cobbled together out of parts at the junkyard on Proserpine's Landing. That last was her most precious position - while it wasn't quite as advanced as the one she'd carried long ago, it served all her needs as a sensor, a mechanical tool and, when necessary, a reasonably effective weapon. She'd had cause to use it as such several times in the months since she'd left the Doctor... and by the looks of this station, she thought she probably would again.

Those from her ship who were rich enough to buy protection from the locals had already been hussled off down a comparatively well-lit passage at the other side of the port. Those who remained, Romana included, would have to fend for themselves amid the ragged and dark common areas. Dark and dull, all greys and browns with the occasional flash of crass neon, it stank of metal, recycled air, and its seemingly innumerable human and alien occupants. This might not be her idea of a pleasant getaway, but it was a good place to disappear into. Most planets or well-cared-for space stations were concerned about the identity and personal details of the people who arrived on their shores or at their docks. A station like this had more people than it could be bothered to deal with. Sightseers didn't come here - refugees did. No one in a position of power would notice one more slightly ragged traveler without a history or a discernible future.

In many ways, her life was not unlike how it had been when she traveled in E-space. The planet she'd started out on had indeed been a good choice - there she had found a transit ship to set out on, and hopped from there to another ship, this time a colony transport, where her technical skills recommended her enough that she could hitch a ride. There was no plan, not yet. For now, she could only live, and listen, and wait. More than a year had gone by that way already. There had been a few adventures along the way, but no sign yet of the Guardian... and no idea, yet, how she might defeat him when she did find him. Here, at least, she could hope to disappear in the sea of humanoid life on the station.

Vendors and peddlars lined the corridors and chambers of the station, sometimes working out of little carts or stalls that they'd set up, sometimes out of trays carried or strapped onto their shoulders... sometimes just out of their hands or a blanket spread across their laps, if they could afford no better. All manner of objects were being sold, from fruit and vegetables to computer chips and power cells and jewelry, and no doubt a good portion of it was stolen. And of course, as was true anywhere, there was a population willing to sell the one thing they assuredly owned to their own name - women and men and aliens of indeterminate gender murmured their prices as Romana passed, whispering and cajoling, assuring her they'd give her a night to remember.

"You look lonely, pretty girl," one told her. "Come with me, come to my tent, and I will make sure you forget."

"Forget him," another chimed in. "He doesn't know real pleasure. You come to me, and I will give you a night that will live forever in your memories."

Romana continued through the crush, pretending not to hear any of them. They weren't dangerous, not really, just miserable and desperate - both conditions that were sadly common in the universe, particularly in this part of the late forty-second century. Humanity had expanded fast and far in the fortieth century, and now it was feeling the growth pains, the ways in which its so-called empire was too big to support itself. Romana shivered. This was not a good time to have landed in, even if it did have the technology she needed. In any case, the prostitutes weren't the ones to watch. Her concern was for the more 'honest' business-people who lined the corridor, many of whom were probably pimps to the wretched creatures grabbing at her sleeves. If one of them stole her credit chip, even her whole bag, that was only a minor loss. Far worse could happen in a place like this.

Far worse things might indeed happen - someone wouldn't let go of her sleeve.

She tugged hard against the grip, and then pulled back, contemplating her options. She could scream, but she was fairly sure it would just announce her helplessness to the bigger fish in the place. So instead she just stopped right there in the middle of the corridor and turned around, forcing the crush of human traffic to move around her if they were going to move at all, and tried to figure out who was holding her. It wasn't a great surprise when she traced the large, rough hand back to a man a good foot taller than her and probably as heavy as a Taran Woodbeast. He wore a charcoal-grey striped suit and a very nasty smile that got even bigger when she tilted her head up to look him in the eye. "You're lost, little girl. You could get yourself into real trouble in a big place like this."

"I'm not lost, thank you," Romana told him in a clear voice, calm as she could make it. "Please let go of my arm."

"Oh, but I think you are. I just couldn't live with myself if I let a sweet little thing like you wander off into the dark, see. So you just come with me, and we'll get you all set up. Nice meal, a hot bath, place to sleep... give you a little peace, something to make you feel better, too. You just stick with me."

Romana tucked her free hand in her pocket, but the sonic screwdriver was out of reach on the wrong side, and she couldn't think of anything else she had that could serve as a weapon. Words would have to serve - she didn't think that the man would drag her off obviously resisting, and if he did she could probably hook another passerby and escape in the ensuing scuffle. There were advantages to her size. "Thank you, but I'm not interested. Let me go, now, please."

"I don't think so. Come with me."

He sounded a good deal more forceful suddenly. Romana glanced down and, sure enough, he had a blaster pointed at her stomach, through a secret hole in the pocket of his dress jacket.

"I see," she replied calmly. There was a chance, of course, that the weapon wasn't real... although it wasn't likely, given the rough reputation this station had built up for itself. There was also a possibility that it would not actually be strong enough to kill a Time Lord - they were made of sterner stuff than most Humans, at the very least, but no doubt this fellow wouldn't stop with just one shot if it didn't seem to properly subdue her. He wouldn't be looking for death, anyway - he'd be looking to stun her, knock her out so she could be taken to wherever he worked from, and from there... well, it wouldn't kill her, but she had no great desire to waste precious time and regenerations in trying to escape a prostitution ring. "Very well. I'll go with you."

The man smiled. And then Romana side-stepped as far out of the way of the blaster as she could, and kicked him hard in the knee. He bellowed... and a trio of more ragged-looking thugs stepped out of the crowd and caught her arms as the larger man bent down, gritting his teeth.

"Bitch," he spat. "Hold her, boys. We'll get our money out of this one. She's clean and pretty under those rags, and I'm damned well getting her back for that kick. Bitch broke my kneecap, I think."

"I hope I did," Romana gritted out. It probably wasn't smart to say, but one of the thugs was twisting her arm backwards at a particularly nasty angle, and she didn't feel much like pretending innocence. In any event, the act hadn't helped her - either the passersby were too used to this sort of thing to bother stepping in, or she was too obviously not someone who could pay a handsome reward to a convenient rescuer.

The pimp snarled at her, rubbed his knee one more time and then straightened, nodding to the thugs. "Carry her."

As fruitless as it obviously was against three men each more than twice her size, Romana gave a good struggle. She kicked, bit and screamed... and then suddenly something exploded off to her left. The pimp and one of the thugs yelled, as did a lot of the not-so-innocent bystanders who'd been studiously ignoring her plight, and the one who was left holding her seemed confused. Whatever had happened, Romana decided to take her chance - she aimed a sharp kick back into the groin of the thug still holding her, then wrenched out of his grip and ran when he dropped her. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a woman with light brown hair running alongside her. The woman was carrying a remote of some kind - a detonator, Romana realized.

"Come on! I know a safe place," the woman shouted. Romana considered her options briefly, mentally shrugged, and followed the Human down a sharp turn off into a warren of smaller corridors and cubby-hole-like rooms. After only a few minutes, her companion pulled Romana into one of these and slapped a panel to shut a door behind them. "We should be safe for a few minutes, at least," she told Romana. "The bastard in the suit got burned pretty bad, looked like. Synthetic fabrics are a bad idea in a blast zone - they've got an icky knack for melting and burning the skin even worse." Her grin was downright impish.

"You set the explosion."

"Yeah, well..." she shrugged. "What can I say? I've gotta respect another girl who'll fight tooth and claw against three guys like that."

Romana tilted her head, watching the woman carefully and listening to the rhythms of her voice. There was something familiar about her, but Romana couldn't quite place it. "You're not from around here."

"Got it in one. But I'm guessing that's 'cause you aren't, either; am I right?"

"Got it in one, yes," Romana repeated, testing the strange phrase on her tongue. "I'm just passing through."

"On the way to where, the third level of Hell? I didn't think there was any place this dump was on the way to." The woman shook her head and leaned back against the wall with confident casualness.

"You're here, too," Romana pointed out with a smile.

"Got me there, but I've got an excuse."

"What's that?"

The woman grinned again. She looked downright smug, now. "I'm looking for trouble."

"Well, that does explain a few things..."

"I'm kidding, of course... well, a little. Bit of an adrenaline junkie, I guess - I used to travel with a friend, we were always getting into scrapes of all kinds. It was the most fun I'd ever had, and I guess I got used to it, you know?"

"I think I do, yes." And more than that - that had pinned Romana's vague memory down. "This friend. He took you to a place called Gallifrey, didn't he?"

"Yeah, how'd you--hey, you were there, weren't you?" The woman - Ace, the Doctor had called her, Romana remembered now - slapped her knee and laughed out loud. "I remember now! How's that for lucky, eh? Halfway across the universe and a good thousand years away, and we just happen to run into each other in this hellhole! What was your name again?"

"Romana." She shook Ace's outstretched hand, amused by the woman's firm, callused grip and wide smile.

"That's right. I'm Ace. You were the president or something like that, back then, weren't you? And he brought me to you, 'cause he wanted me to study for a bit at the academy there. You made a special exception for me, he said."

"We don't usually allow aliens on our world," Romana agreed. "In this case I think he convinced me into the right decision. Did you enjoy the academy?"

"Sure. I learned a lot, had some fun... don't think a lot of the students approved of me being there, though." Ace shrugged. "They knew I was different."

"And now you just travel?"

"Well, yeah. I liked living like before, so when I left Gallifrey I just figured... why not? I've got some people I can stay with when I want, on Earth, but mostly..." she stretched her arms to the expanse. "The universe is my home. See you're done doing the president thing."

"Yes. I'm done with that for a while." Ace didn't need to know about the war. She'd only be angry the Doctor hadn't called her back for it, Romana suspected. It hadn't involved her - it was a war for Time Lords, not for their Human friends, however clever they might be. But the Doctor's friends often didn't understand distinctions like that. "Politics turned out not to suit me as well as I thought."

"Better off without it," Ace told her.

During their brief prior meeting, Romana hadn't really paid much attention to the young woman, to be honest, but now she could easily understand all the potential the Doctor had foreseen in her. The slightly shy youth had grown into a brave, lively adult, sure of herself and her talents. If some of those talents involved exploding things... well, Romana was hardly in a position to complain about that, now that the hobby had saved her from a very uncomfortable inconvenience, if not an eventually painful and messy death.

"Have you seen the Professor lately?" Ace asked.

"Not recently, no," Romana replied cautiously, remembering after an instant's confusion that was what Ace had called the Doctor. "I've been traveling on my own for a while, now."

Ace pressed her lips together, and then burst out in a nervous voice. "Look, if there's something wrong - if something's happened to him, just tell me. Please. I know I'm not a Time Lord or whatever, but--"

"He's fine, Ace. He was safe when I last saw him, I promise you. It's only, a lot has happened since you saw him last. There's been... some trouble with an old enemy of ours," Romana added impulsively. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Like hell it isn't," Ace snapped. "If it affects him--"

"It won't. I promise."

Ace's expression softened as understanding dawned in her light brown eyes. "That's why you're out here alone, isn't it?"

Either the Doctor hadn't exaggerated Ace's cleverness, Romana thought, or she herself was becoming a much worse liar than she'd been in the past. If the latter, that might well prove to be very dangerous. She carefully decided that Ace was just unusually bright for a Human, and put the other possibility out of her mind. "The person who came after the Doctor and I wasn't looking for him - he was only after me. So I left him."

"He's not going to be happy with that," Ace told her.

As if I don't know... "No, when he figures out what I've done, I imagine he won't be. But he won't know for some time."

Ace nodded. "Maybe that's best, then. He doesn't take well to being protected, sometimes."

Romana tilted her head, surprised. "No. No, he doesn't." It was strange to think that this little Human, so young and so fragile when she'd traveled with the Doctor, would know such a thing. She'd been barely out of childhood when Romana had met her the first time, and at that time she'd already been traveling with him for some time. He'd been protective of her, Romana knew, but she hadn't expected the same fierceness from the young woman. "That doesn't make it any less necessary--"

"Shhh!" Ace clapped a hand over Romana's mouth, then leaned close to the metal bulkhead. "There's men out there," she whispered. "Sounds like that bloke I torched sent his friends to finish the deal."

Romana listened, too. Sure enough, she could hear at least four sets of heavy steps, and low voices moving closer to them.

"Where's your Tardis?" Ace hissed.

"I don't have one!"

"Then how--" Ace shook her head. "Never mind. I've got a vortex manipulator, and it'll take two if we're cozy." Ace held up a small object, black metal with a few little buttons and dials, and then tucked it back in the pocket of her leather jacket, zipping the pocket carefully closed to prevent it falling out while they talked. "Hope you don't mind 20th or 21st century Earth - I've got an emergency recall already programmed. Rather not fall right out of one fire into another."

"That'll be fine," Romana whispered, remembering her most recent adventure with the Doctor, long before the war with the Daleks began, in far more innocent times. She knew that a Time Lord had lived there, before the war, and he'd had a working Tardis, old though it was.

"Home for me, then." Ace grinned.

"Is that all right? You must have been here for a reason..."

"I've made life a bit more nasty for some of the baddies here." She shrugged. "That was all I was really after. I know it's probably not right, messing with the locals and all, but it's not like letting them kill the ex-president of Gallifrey would've been better, right? So it's all good in the end."

The Doctor did often spread around his tendency for getting involved in a timeline, Romana thought. As Ace said, though, it was hard for her to disapprove in this case. Just then, a screech of metal interrupted them - the men were trying to force the bulkhead open.

Ace pulled the field generator out of her pocket and held it close to her chest. "Time to go, then. Hold tight - the Professor'd have my head if I lost you in the vortex."

Given at that moment that the Doctor didn't know she was still alive, Romana rather doubted this, but she followed Ace's instructions anyway, linking her arms around Ace's waist and allowing the younger woman to wrap her leather-clad arms around Romana's shoulders. The smell of leather reminded her somewhat painfully of the Doctor's most recent incarnation, and she pressed her face against the shoulder of the jacket to keep her reaction from showing. Not that Ace would know what it meant - she obviously hadn't seen the Doctor since the war ended, or she would have been significantly more surprised to see another Time Lord, since the Doctor currently thought all but him had died.

"Ready?"

She pulled away enough to nod, then gripped tightly again, thinking of all the things that could happen to a person traveling the vortex without the protection of a Tardis. Ace had done it without injury, evidently... but Ace also seemingly made a habit of setting off incendiary devices in rickety space stations. That wasn't the most encouraging endorsement, in Romana's opinion.

"Then we're off!"

Against her back, Romana felt Ace slap a button on the device and then hold tight with both hands, pressing the two of them together. What felt like a rush of air followed, and then a curiously dizzy, rippling feeling on all her exposed skin, and a sensation as though all the breath had been knocked out of her and stolen away by a great wind that wouldn't hold still long enough for her to take another breath. It's all gone wrong, Romana thought in a moment of surprising calm. So this is how it happens. After all this, with all the things I still need to do, I'm going to die in the vortex, clinging to a Human I barely know. The thought didn't provide a very good outlook for her next regeneration.

Fortunately, Romana didn't have long to contemplate how long it would take her to use up all her remaining lives in the ripping vacuum of the open vortex before a sudden 'pop!' of re-compression released around her, with the feeling of dropping from a great height. Vertigo hit her with an almost physical force, and she would doubtless have lost her balance if Ace hadn't still been holding her tightly... but there was ground beneath her feet, and, once she remembered to release the breath she'd been holding, air in her lungs.

"Hits a bit hard if you're not used to it," Ace announced cheerfully. "You all right?"

"I'm fine, now... You couldn't have warned me?"

"No point. I don't think I could really describe the feeling, and anything I said would have just made you nervous."

"Where did you find that thing? It certainly isn't Time Lord technology!"

"Got it off a Time Agent in the fifty-first century," Ace admitted with a certain devilish glee. "Let's just say he wasn't taking the greatest care with the local flora and fauna, where I met him. He had teammates, so it wasn't like I left him stranded. Better than he deserved," she added, a bit defensively. "Anyway, we'd better check where we ended up... these things aren't quite as reliable as a Tardis."

"Given the Doctor's piloting skills, that is a frightening thought." Romana frowned, and leaned close to see the read-out that Ace was checking.

"Let's see... England, in January of... 2009, looks like. Well, a few years off isn't bad in the long run. I could try again, if it'll make a difference to what you're looking for..."

"No, thank you," Romana said quickly. "I'm sure this will be fine."

"Glad to help, then." Ace grinned again, the earnest, cheery goodwill in her eyes reminding Romana irresistably of their absent mutual friend at his best moments. "Listen, I've got friends just around here - I set the field generator to always land me in the same general spot when I come back to England, so that I don't have to hop around too much trying to get to a good place to stay. And you look like you could use a night's sleep and a good meal. Why don't you come with me?"

It had been months since Romana had had a proper meal and a night's sleep somewhere she could be certain was truly safe, but... "You're sure your friends wouldn't mind?"

"Nah. I've kinda got their guest bedroom to myself, honestly. And I've got a key, so we won't even need to bother them coming and going. They've got a bath, too... don't take it the wrong way, but you look like it's been a while since you've had a wash and soak."

The thought of soap and hot water finished the deal. Sleep was negotiable for a Time Lord, and a hot meal could be had almost anywhere if one knew how to go about it, but a good bath was a luxury Romana hadn't had the chance to indulge in for what felt like ages. "That sounds lovely."

"Brilliant. It'll be a regular girls' night in." Ace linked arms with her happily. "This way, then."

Ace kept up a companionable chatter as they walked through the grey afternoon, until they arrived at a modest but comfortable-looking house where she knocked twice and then unlocked the door. "It's just me!" she shouted. "Brought a friend... anybody home?" Silence answered, and Ace turned with a shrug to Romana. "The Brig's been retired for a while, so they're probably on holiday still or out visiting. Come on - my room's down in the basement."

The room Ace led Romana to looked more like a storage room than a bedroom to the Time Lord's eyes, but it was small enough that once Ace turned on the furnace, it began to warm up quickly. Two sofas that looked about as old as Ace herself stood against the walls, and a pile of boxes stacked against a bookshelf bore the name 'Ace' written in neat block letters on each. "I travel too much to keep a place of my own," she explained, flopping back onto one of the sofas and pulling a ragged old stuffed dog onto her lap. "So they keep my stuff here, in case I need it again someday. I don't figure I will, but... you never know, I guess, and Doris seems to think it'd be some kind of sin to get rid of any of it."

"What about your family?" Romana asked.

Ace shrugged. "We never really got on. So it's just me. The Professor introduced me to these people... I guess they're my family, along with him. None of my biological family ever really got me, you know?"

Romana considered Ace's unconventional manner and nodded slowly. "I suppose so."

"Anyway, I like it here. They know what I do, the kind of work I did with the Professor, and they like it for the most part. Better than trying to explain to my mum and her family. I'm going to order some food since Doris and the Brig are out - is pizza okay, or would you rather have curry?"

Not having the slightest idea what either entailed, Romana agreed to the first on the principle that Ace sounded most enthusiastic about it, and then explored the bookshelf while the Human woman went upstairs to place the order. Most of it was chemistry, physics, and electronics textbooks, but there were a few history books as well, and a handful of rather cheap-looking novels of the paperback sort that a young woman might bring along on a holiday. Ace packed her off to the bath when she returned, where she spent a good hour scrubbing and soaking the travel dirt out of her skin and hair, and emerged to find Ace waiting with the food that had arrived in the intervening time. They ate, and Ace chatted, mostly leaving Romana in the dust of her seemingly random stories and anecdotes, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

After the third time she interrupted herself with yawning, Ace paused in embarrassment. "I guess I should let you sleep. I haven't had somebody to really talk to for a while. It's not like the Professor and I could have traveled together forever," she added almost defensively. "I don't mind that he left. And studying on Gallifrey was an experience I wouldn't turn down for anything. It's just been hard, since. I don't feel like I belong anywhere anymore."

"I know how that feels," Romana remarked drily.

"Yeah, I guess." Ace didn't look sure about that, but she dropped the subject anyway. "Come on. This couch pulls out, and it's got sheets and everything. Doris always keeps it set up with clean ones, in case I drop by. I'll sleep on the other."

"Are you sure?"

"You're the guest. I'm practically family here, they always say. Anyway, I'd feel bad letting the President of Gallifrey bed down on a plain old sofa."

"I'm not the president of anything anymore," Romana told her with a twinge of guilt at the thought.

"Still. And you let me onto Gallifrey, right? So I owe you one." Again Romana was treated to Ace's brilliant grin. "I won't take no for an answer, so you might as well just agree."

Romana smiled back and relented. Ace dug out a pile of spare blankets and pillows from a closet somewhere, turned out the light above the sofa once they'd both bedded down, and then Romana snuggled into cool sheets and quilts that smelled faintly of mothballs and cedar. It was the first truly peaceful sleep she'd had since the day she'd declared war on the Daleks.

Chapter 3 - The Professor of Time

In the morning, Ace walked Romana to the train station and hugged her enthusiastically. "Take care, all right? And keep in touch. Here - I wrote my friends' number down for you." She handed over a slip of paper with a series of digits and the name 'Ace' written in a slightly reckless hand. "Just leave a message with them, if you need to get hold of me, and they'll pass it on the next time I pass through."

"Thank you, Ace. For everything. You saved my life."

The young woman shrugged, digging her hands into her pockets in an abashed manner. "Don't mention it, honestly. It was nice having somebody to keep company with for a bit, especially somebody who really understands what it's like out there. Makes me feel good to still be of use, y'know, even when it's just me, not still traveling with him. Are you sure you'll be all right alone, or do you want me to stick around for a bit?"

Tempting as it was to accept the young woman's companionship, Romana didn't like the thought of bringing a Human into the mix should she encounter the Guardian... and she would only add to the confusion, where Romana was headed. There would be quite enough confusion to go around without interference, she expected. "I'm sure I'll manage, and I should let you get back to your life," she assured Ace. "Thank you, again."

"Sure, sure. Listen... say hi to the Professor for me, will you, when you see him again? Tell him..." For a moment she seemed at a loss for words, and Romana was once again struck by how very young this Human was, especially from the perspective of her own species' long lifespan. "Tell him I miss him, but that I'm having a fantastic time on my own, all right?"

"I promise," Romana agreed gently. "I'll tell him exactly that." And then I'll thank him for training up such a fascinating young woman.

"Right. Take care, then. Don't do anything I wouldn't, yeah?" Grinning again though her eyes looked rather sad, Ace tossed off a jaunty wave and jogged in the direction of a nearby street corner. Romana hesitated a moment, then shook her head and turned away. If Ace looked back to check on her, it'd be best for her not to see her watching.

A few hours on the train brought Romana to her destination just as the low, heavy grey sky was beginning to soften with rain. As she stepped onto the platform, Romana turned to the campus and stretched her awareness to the limit. No sign of anything, Tardis or Time Lord... but that wasn't exactly a surprise, was it? She'd only had the barest awareness of Chronotis when she and the Doctor stood right next to him, the last time they'd visited - the man had so many barriers and perception filters around himself that he'd probably forget his entire identity if he took too long a nap.

...Come to that, he might even if he didn't, given his habitual forgetfulness.

Romana shook her head, and began carefully tracing the path she and the Doctor had taken years before. A handful of students passed her in the gathering gloom and drizzle, but none paid her any attention. Apparently even in her recklessly thrown-together traveling clothes, she looked enough like a student to pass muster. After a bit of wandering, she found her way to the correct door, knocked, and waited several moments through which she could hear muttering and the shuffling of various papers and objects on the other side. At last, the door opened, and a harried--and familiar--looking elderly professor peeked out.

"Office hours were over at four," he announced without preamble. "If you want my advice on your dissertation, you'll just have to wait until tomorrow. Or Tuesday - Friday is my day off, and I'm taking Monday because I'll be sick."

"How do you know you'll be sick on Monday?"

"How could I file my sick time with the department if I didn't know it in advance?"

Romana contemplated this for an instant, then shook it off as inconsequential. "Professor Chronotis?"

"I know who I am."

"I know you do - I was just confirming... You are Professor Chronotis, are you not?"

"Of course I am. Really, my dear, I haven't time for this sort of silly questioning. If you're in my class, you certainly ought to know by now who I am - after all, the term is nearly half over!"

"I'm not one of your students, Professor. My name is--"

"If you're not one of my students, then I'm afraid I really shouldn't be speaking with you. I haven't time for any more doctoral associates pestering me for recommendations or assistance with research, and I don't take well to social shilly-shallying. Now, young lady, off you go!"

"I am not a student here at all, Chronotis. I--"

"Then you shouldn't be on university property outside of visiting hours! You need a pass from administration, and they're only open until two o'clock on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and until one on Thursdays, except when they all go out to the pub at lunch and stay there on through. That used to be the third week of the month, but I think they've moved it since then--"

Romana took a deep breath. "Professor Chronotis, listen to me. I am Romanadvoratrelundar. The President of Gallifrey," she added, when he showed no sign of recognizing her name.

"Oh dear." The old man's face fell. "So they've found me again, have they? Oh dear, oh dear... are you quite sure you're not one of my students?"

"Quite sure, Professor. And you aren't in any kind of trouble, so please don't worry. I need your help."

"The President of Gallifrey needs my help?" He laughed softly. "Well, that is a turn, isn't it? Of course, I'm not entirely surprised... You were here some time ago, weren't you? Here with that nice young man... what was his name. The Dictator?"

"The Doctor, Chronotis. And yes, I was. Will you please let me in? I'm afraid I've been traveling for some time, and I could really do with a spot of tea..." That, Romana thought, ought to be enough to send him onto a more familiar track.

Sure enough, the old Time Lord's face brightened immediately. "Tea! Of course, of course... do come on, I don't know where my manners have got to. I'll just grab the kettle... er... I haven't got any milk, you know, but I could just step out and pick some up--"

If Chronotis left, Romana suspected he'd just disappear into the night and hide until he thought she was gone. "It's quite all right, Professor. I'll just take the tea."

"Ah, tea, yes... haven't got any of that, either, now that you mention it. I meant to go shopping the other day, but there's so much work to be done... tidying up... all sorts of housework, and the school's housekeeper won't come in any more after the incident with the strawberry jam..."

Romana gritted her teeth. It was a very good thing she'd had breakfast with Ace, even if she hadn't been all that fond of cold pizza and soda pop first thing in the morning. "The tea isn't necessary, then. Thank you for the offer."

"Tea? Oh, of course, tea!" He snapped his fingers. "I've got a lovely little package tucked away just for guests - pretty little blend straight from India, one of my students brought it home from a study-trip and gave it to me for Christmas. You'll have to taste it to believe it. Just you hold on a moment while I find the kettle and get it heated."

Having a conversation with Chronotis was a bit like flipping randomly through a book - one was never quite sure that the lines of dialogue were lining up properly, and cause and effect seemed not to have the slightest relation to his thought process... and watching him go about a simple daily task wasn't all that much better. He took his time about finding the dented copper kettle under a pile of paperwork, setting it on a battered old camp-stove, and then rattling around various drawers.

"Matches, matches..."

"Allow me." Romana pulled out her sonic screwdriver and lit the stove, filled the kettle from a small tap nearby, and set it atop the stove.

"Ah, lovely! Lovely work, lovely work... don't know why I can never find a match around this place, forget my own head if it weren't attached... now, what did you want to talk to me about, Miss...?"

"Romana. And I'd like to speak to you about..." Suddenly, the whole situation seemed a bit confused. What was she going to tell him? Chronotis hadn't been back to Gallifrey in centuries, probably even millenia of relative time, and would have had no idea that a war was happening, let alone that his people had been destroyed by it. Who was she to step in, president or not, and tell a confused old man that he was one of three known survivors of their once-great race? However, there was one way in which he could certainly aid her cause... "I need to borrow your Tardis."

"My Tardis?" Chronotis looked genuinely confused, and for a moment Romana was terrified that he'd actually forgotten about the thing. If it was still taking the form of his whole office that wouldn't be too bad, but if it had since changed its shape into something else, some object or other in the cluttered disaster of his quarters, she'd never have a hope of finding the thing before Earth's sun burned down to nothing.

"Well... yes, if you don't mind. I haven't got any way to travel, really, you see, and..."

"Oh, you should borrow my Tardis, then! I'm not using it after all - can't leave, they'd be simply lost without me, silly primitives." Chronotis gave a good-natured, grandfatherly chuckle. "Certainly, certainly... yes, my dear, you should certainly borrow my Tardis for your journey. Ah, there goes the kettle!"

Romana hadn't heard anything other than the low simmer of the water against metal, not at all close to a boil, but she didn't say anything as Chronotis bustled over to the stove and poured out two cups, one of which he then handed to her with a warm smile. There was no tea at all in it, only water, and the water itself was only moderately warm. "Thank you very much," Romana told him gravely.

"Of course, of course. Nothing but the best for the great President Romana. I voted for you, you know. Or was that the other fellow? I can't remember now..."

"It doesn't matter," Romana assured him. She could afford to be magninimous on this point, most particularly because he'd been living in exile on Earth throughout her time as president and couldn't have voted for her even if that was really the way the presidency had been decided. "I'm very grateful that you'll allow me to use your Tardis, Professor. It will be a great help in my travels."

"My Tardis?" Chronotis looked up from his 'tea,' which he'd been allowing to steam his glasses, apparently lost in contemplation of its sweet lack of aroma. "Oh, but you can't borrow my Tardis!"

"But you just said--"

"No, no, no. You must have misunderstood me, my dear. No, you simply couldn't borrow my Tardis. The poor old thing is entirely broken. Quite dead, if you'll forgive the expression. It's no use to anyone anymore, not in the slightest."

"Are you sure?" Romana asked.

"Oh, yes. I've run every test I can think of, and the old thing just won't respond. You know these old Type 42 models - they just can't hold up the universe we've got nowadays! The Vortex isn't what it used to be, I can tell you that much. Why in my day..."

"But the Doctor's still running his old Type 40! Yours is newer than that, couldn't you just--"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but it's quite dead! Some time ago it just... went caput! Quite suddenly, actually, it was very strange... One day it was puttering along just exactly as it always has, and then - pop! No more, nothing at all. I haven't been able to get a peep out of its computers in months. It's as though its power circuits just decided to give up the ghost all on their own. It can't even find the Eye of Harmony, anymore."

"I see..." Romana sighed. It was likely that his old Tardis had lost the last of its power shortly after the destruction of Gallifrey, whereupon it suddenly had to rely entirely on its own resources rather than the distant power supply of Gallifrey's power network. Or possibly a Tardis could pine away for lack of travel... in whatever case, it looked like she wouldn't be getting anywhere with it. Unless... "Would you mind terribly if I took a look at it? I used to be quite good with mechanics in the academy..."

"I'm sure you were, my dear, but this old thing is more a creature for an antiquarian. Much like myself, you might say," he added with a chuckle. "Still, if it will make you feel better you certainly may give a try at it." He stood up and walked over to the wall, then stopped, hand on his chin. "Now... let me see... the panel was right here, wasn't it? Ah, no, wait - I remember, it was behind this diffenbachia here." He pushed aside a small houseplant, and then regarded the bookshelf behind it with a perplexed expression. "How to activate it... it was one of these books here..."

Romana sighed and pulled the sonic screwdriver out of her pocket again, changed the setting to scan, and swept it in an arc that encompassed the entire wall. It beeped when pointed at a spot well across the room from where Chronotis had been looking, and a square of blue light bloomed up on the wall in that area. "Er... Professor?"

"Yes? Ah! Wonderful work, Miss Rhonda!"

Romana decided it wasn't really worth the effort of correcting him.

"Now, why don't we just... let me see, what was that passcode..."

Romana stepped in front of him with the greatest politeness she could manage, and aimed the screwdriver right into the square that had lit up. She rotated through a few settings... and then a few more... and at last received a desultory chime from the now-awakened Tardis computer, and a display panel that, while old-fashioned, nonetheless gave her a good look at the inner workings of the old ship. Unfortunately, the situation was nearly as bad as Chronotis had indicated. The poor old ship really wasn't up to even the shortest of jaunts.

"Well? What do you see?"

Romana sighed. "I'm sorry, Professor, but you're quite right - your Tardis is dead."

"Yes, well... I rather thought that might be the case." He nodded sadly. "It was very kind of you to come all the way out here to check on it, however, Ronanda. Very considerate indeed. I'm in your debt."

"It was no trouble at all," Romana told him, because it was easier than trying to explain... and after all, the poor old man really was very sweet. "I'm sorry that you won't be able to use it anymore."

"Oh, it's not a great trouble. Hardly used the old thing, anymore, anyway. Just a little jaunt every now and then, just for the fun of it... I haven't been off-planet in just centuries. Getting too old for it, I suppose. Why did you say you wanted it, again?"

"Oh... no reason." Romana smiled. "Thank you very much for your time, Professor. I should be letting you go, shouldn't I? You probably have a lot of work to do..."

"Oh, yes... paperwork, you know." He waved his hands at the seemingly endless stacks of forms and essays and other paper-based detritus that covered every available surface. "I like to keep them busy. They do love reading my work... I try to write the craziest theories I can think of, you couldn't imagine how they gobble them all up. It's quite charming, really. But won't you stay to tea, my dear? I'll just put the kettle on, as soon as I can find it..."

"No thank you. I've had some just recently."

"Ah. Well, that's good. I can't go an hour without a good cup of tea, these days." He paused for a moment, his caterpillar-like eyebrows knitting together as though trying to duel. "I don't suppose you brought that nice Doctor fellow with you this time, did you? I quite liked chatting with him the last time you visited."

"No, I'm afraid he was busy with other things."

"Hmm. Pity. Yes... yes, that's quite a pity. Well, Roseanna, I'm very pleased to have seen you today. I hope you'll take your studies more seriously in the future - it's not everyone who gets to study physics at Cambridge, you know. You should be more mindful of the honor of your position."

"Yes, sir." Romana did her best to smile, and shook the old Time Lord's hand dutifully. "Thank you, sir. I'll try to keep that in mind."

As she departed, she heard him humming in his office. It was an old Gallifreyan lullaby. At least some small fragments of their world would live on in the shadows of his foggy mind.

Chapter 4 - A Girl's Best Friend

Once she'd left Chronotis and his office behind, Romana walked slowly through the campus, unsure of where to go next. She wasn't aware of any other Time Lords who might have escaped the general call home for the war, and no other place on Earth immediately presented itself as a likely source of material or supplies to help her in her journey. Soon enough she came to a wide river. It might have been the same one she and the Doctor had boated on in this area, but if it was, it didn't look nearly so pretty any more. The bright colors of fall had faded and vanished, leaving empty trees, a bleak grey sky, and hills that were damp with dreary, endless rain. That sunny day was long gone, and at that moment she felt as though all the warmth in the universe had gone with it.

"What point is there, really, in the end?" she muttered to herself. "I haven't got a space ship or another means of travel. I haven't any weapons other than the sonic screwdriver. If I were to encounter the Guardian right here and now, I expect he'd barely have to expend any effort to finish me off. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know if there even are any living Time Lords other than the Doctor, myself, and poor old Chronotis. It's possible I should have just stayed with the Doctor. At least then we wouldn't have both been lonely until we met our end. And I wouldn't be talking to myself, either. Hmm."

"Oh, stop whining," Romana scolded herself, and then smiled a little. If she meant to talk to herself, at least she could make it interesting. "Just think... at least you have the sonic screwdriver, and that's a start. There's probably all sorts of technology around Earth left over from all the various species who've tried to invade it throughout history - if I can just gather up bits of it, I might be able to create a weapon. Maybe I could even get some old ship working again, if I could find one that wasn't too badly wrecked. Not having a Tardis isn't any reason to give up. I didn't have one when I went into e-space, after all, and that went just fine in the end. I'll just do a scan for alien tech..." A passing student gave her a rather odd look. "And stop talking to myself, as well," she added in a low murmur once he'd passed out of hearing. "No good scaring the natives."

A nearby hilltop provided a suitable vantage point to scan the countryside. All the alien technology on Earth wouldn't be in England, naturally, but the Doctor favored it so much that he'd no doubt drawn a lot of the other alien attentions to it by association, so it wasn't a bad place to start. And sure enough, she almost immediately picked up a signal - rather a strong one, she was impressed to note - coming from a place not all that terribly far off.

"Pity I don't know the geography a bit better... perhaps I should have paid more attention to the Doctor when he got off on his lectures about Earth. But how was I to know it would come in handy?" The memory of him, blissfully pontificating about his pet planet, made her feel a bit less lonely. He would have enjoyed this - would have turned it into just another adventure, like he seemed to do with everything. She'd had an easier time of that when she was younger, of course, but... well, she was still young, for a Time Lord, wasn't she? And this new signal looked nothing if not optimistic. In fact, it looked a bit familiar...

She refined the scan settings and checked again. Yes... yes, she definitely knew that energy pattern. Knew it very well. But what was it doing here?

Maybe I didn't set the memory barrier correctly... maybe the Doctor is looking for me. No... no, I would have picked up the Tardis if that was the case. So perhaps K-9 just found his way here all on his own... looking for his mistress. She smirked at that thought - the Doctor would have appreciated it, she thought. The old yarn about the loyal dog, traveling across impossible distances to find his beloved master... and yes, this would be a very useful trip, if she could get K-9 back. With that in mind, she set out.

Some hours later, after another tedious railway expedition, the scanner led Romana to a little house in a London suburb, modest but reasonably attractive, with a garden that looked, at least in the darkness, to be more than a little unkempt. The lock was slightly more complicated than she had expected of a normal human in that time frame, but nothing that a sonic screwdriver couldn't handle. Inside, it was dark, the only light coming from one of the upstairs rooms, which Romana slipped past. She followed the signal up another set of stairs into an attic packed with books and papers, photographs, boxes, and other detritus. A second power signature drew her attention for a moment - something large and powerful but very good at hiding itself was stored away behind the wall at the far end of the room. It wasn't Human technology, of that much she was certain. Perhaps someone living here was a collector of sorts?

In whatever case, K-9 could help her figure it out, and his signal seemed to be emanating from a wall-safe at ground-level on the other side of the room. Romana knelt next to it and started working through the combination as quietly as possible with a jury-rigged sonic screwdriver even more loud than the normal model. Quickly, quickly, almost there, she thought, just one more catch and I'll--

"Stand up," a voice told her, "and step away from the safe."

A woman's voice, low and tense, but not afraid. She probably had a weapon. Over the whine of the screwdriver, Romana heard the last tumbler fall into place, but she doubted the Human would have heard it. Good.

"All right... I'm standing up," Romana said calmly, lifting her hands slowly into the air. "Don't hurt me, please. I'm alone, and I'm not armed," she added a bit louder. With luck, K-9 could hear through the metal of the safe this woman had put him in and would realize that the door was unlocked. The Human wouldn't have closed him away if he were offline, she figured.

"Step away from the safe and turn around."

"Okay." Romana turned slowly, hands in the air, and faced an older Human woman no taller than herself, with shoulder-length dark hair... and a cricket bat. "Are we going to play a game?" she asked, amused. Of all the weapons she'd expected to see leveled at her, that was the least likely she could have imagined.

"No." The woman's eyes narrowed. "Although I'd like a few rounds of twenty-questions with you."

"I like question games." Romana heard a whirring behind her. Perfect. "We'll start with why you've been holding my dog captive."

"Why... Your dog?" The woman snorted. "K-9, do you know this girl?"

"Affirmative, Mistress."

"Who is she?"

"This is the Romana-Mistress, Mistress."

Romana turned and stared at the robotic dog. It was certainly the same model - exactly the same as she remembered from the last time she'd seen him, trundling off with the Doctor after they'd met on Gallifrey a few days before the council decided to make her superfluous. And he knew her... so why was he calling this Human 'mistress?'

Apparently the Human was having some trouble with the idea in reverse, as she gave K-9 an appalled look. "The Romana-Mistress?"

"Affirmative, Mistress."

"K-9," Romana cut in, "when was the last time you saw me?"

"Last relative-chronological encounter with the Romana-Mistress was on the planet of Gallifrey, at what the Doctor-Master referred to as a 'secret meeting.'"

Romana pursed her lips. She needed to know this really was K-9, not some sort of imposter. "What did I tell the Doctor when you were both getting ready to leave?"

"Accessing memory banks..." K-9 whirred for a moment, and the next sentence came out of his speakers in Romana's own voice. "If there's any other way, Doctor, I trust you to find it. But in the end, if all other options are exhausted..."

"It won't come to that," the Doctor's voice interrupted on the recording. "Trust me, it won't come to that."

"After this," K-9 continued, "the Doctor-Master indicated that we should depart."

"And so you did." Romana glanced at the Human woman. She looked stunned, and a little irritated, but no longer actually angry. "Well, what about you, then? You never did answer my question..."

"I'm not holding him captive. He's my dog! K-9, tell her--"

"Affirmative, Mistress. I was given as a gift from the Doctor-Master to Sarah Jane Smith eighteen Earth years ago."

"There you go, then."

"Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane Smith..." Romana tilted her head, thinking.

"Let me guess." Sarah Jane crossed her arms over her chest. "He never mentioned me."

"The Doctor? He never talks about the people he's traveled with." Romana shook her head. "He lives in the moment. So you were one of his assistants?"

"I traveled with him, and we were friends," Sarah Jane corrected.

"If I may be of assistance, Mistress?" K-9 piped up.

"Certainly, K-9."

"Several models have been made on the design of this unit, and have been given to several masters throughout the years. All existing iterations are equipped with the memory banks of the pre-existing models, and share information whenever we are in frequency."

"So you're saying that you're not my K-9, but you remember everything he remembered?"

"Affirmative, Mistress." He whirred and turned toward the Human. "Black hole activity will accelerate to dangerous levels if I do not return immediately, Mistress."

Well, that certainly put a damper on Romana's plans.

"Go back, K-9. Thank you for clearing things up - I'm sure we can manage from here." There was a particular edge to Sarah Jane's voice, but if it was meant to intimidate Romana it wasn't working.

"Yes, Mistress. Mistress." His ear-sensors swivelled briefly at both of them, and then he rolled back into the safe, which Sarah Jane closed behind him.

"A black hole? In your safe?"

"It's an entrance into a pocket universe," Sarah Jane explained in a casual tone.

"And I suppose that energy-jump behind your wall over there is a Tardis?"

Sarah gave Romana an appalled look. "Of course not. That's my computer."

"Of course."

"I hardly think you're in a position to be snide, Ms.... What did K-9 call you?"

"It's Romana. Not Ms., either, and since I doubt you want to call me 'Madame President,' I suppose we should drop the titles."

"President." Sarah Jane crossed her arms and frowned. "Now you're just being silly."

"I'm not. I was the president of Gallifrey."

To her surprise, Sarah Jane's face fell. "You're a Time Lord. But the Doctor said they were all gone."

She had seen the Doctor recently, then. Romana felt a pang of fear. "When did you last speak with him? Do you see him often?"

"Just once since he left me. What's going on here?"

"If you see him again, you mustn't tell him you've seen me. You mustn't, it's absolutely vital."

"What on earth do you mean by that?"

"You could break his time-line and cause a paradox if you tell him that I'm here. That's all you need to know."

Sarah Jane crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed, and for just a moment Romana thought, What does this puny little Human think she's doing? Does she honestly believe that she can threaten me, of all people? But then it struck her - this Human had traveled with the Doctor. Of course she was audacious, arrogant and self-righteous - she had learned from the expert at all of those things. She sighed and put on her best 'well, I'm waiting,' expression, expecting a tirade. But Sarah Jane surprised her.

"Paradox, hmm? Well, he should know about those. And so should you, I suppose. What's happening this time? Or is that another thing that my tiny Human brain couldn't comprehend?"

Romana hesitated. "He told you about the war, I take it?"

"He said that the rest of the Time Lords were dead. That only he was left."

The time had come for judicious truth-telling, then, Romana thought - nothing outright wrong, in case it became important later, but just enough to satisfy the Human's curiosity without giving her anything more than was necessary to quell her. "One of our old enemies has returned. The Doctor doesn't know. I don't want him to - not yet. If you've traveled with him, you know how he is where danger is concerned..."

Sarah's lips tightened, and she nodded. "He'd run straight into whatever it is."

"And I'm trying to keep him out of it, for the time being."

"What about you? If you know about him, why doesn't he...?"

"I'm afraid that's part of what I can't tell you," Romana replied solemnly.

"Classified information, hmm? I've heard that more than a time or two. Never thought I'd get it from a Time Lord." Sarah tilted her head, curious. "Or do you prefer 'Time Lady'? The Doctor never was very specific about the practices of his home."

Romana shrugged. "The noun in Gallifreyan is gender neutral - literally it's more like 'Master of Time,' I suppose, but that holds certain... connotations. Beyond that, either works just as well. I'm not insulted by either, if that's what you're asking. Time Lord is fine."

"All right, then, Romana. You've already seen that my K-9 is not yours, and that mine is busy - even if I wanted to let you take him, that black hole would accelerate and devour the earth in about an hour if he were to leave it. You can't have him."

"And I recognize that." Romana raised her hands, hoping the Human would take the gesture of peace for what it was. "I would prefer if the situation were another way, but... I suppose I've made it this far without K-9, so I ought to be able to manage the rest without him, as well."

"If you'd tell me what you're trying to do, maybe I could help," Sarah suggested in what she no doubt considered a sweet and reasonable tone.

Romana shook her head. "I can't. One word to the Doctor--"

"I wouldn't tell him, then. Just tell me."

"I can't! It's not just the Doctor. Who knows who you might talk to, or whether our enemy might track you down. It's not possible! Why won't you listen to me?" Before she could continue, Romana was interrupted by a head peeking over the stairway into the attic.

"Mum?" The sleepy-headed boy, who Romana estimated to be a little older than Adric had been, wore a concerned expression over his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. "What's going on?"

Sarah Jane's lips tightened, but she didn't take her eyes off Romana. "Go back downstairs, Luke."

The boy - Luke, apparently - craned his head over the banister for a better look at the situation. "Who's she?"

"Just an alien, Luke. Go downstairs and wait for me there, I'll explain when we're through talking."

Luke regarded Romana with a curious, slightly calculating expression. "You were yelling."

"We're having an argument," Romana admitted calmly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sarah Jane frown. She hadn't wanted the boy to know that, it seemed. He nodded, though, as if that just confirmed his suspicions.

"Are you trying to invade Earth?" he asked, as though that was the most natural conclusion in the world.

"Of course not!" What was wrong with this family?

"Okay, then why are you and Mum fighting?"

"Luke--"

"I tried to take K-9 because I thought he was mine, and now I can't tell your mother things that she wants to know."

"Oh." Luke seemed to digest this knowledge. It didn't seem to surprise him much. Romana was beginning to wonder if anything particularly did. "Okay."

"You're worried about me telling other people about all of this, but it's all right for you to bring my son into our argument, I see." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest again and gave Romana a stern look.

"I haven't told him anything dangerous." Romana shrugged. "He reminds me of someone, anyway. Someone I used to know."

"Another friend of the Doctor's?"

Romana nodded.

"What happened?"

"He died. I wasn't there. The Doctor told me, much later. He saved the Earth," she added, because that seemed like the sort of thing Sarah Jane would care about, and because Luke looked curious.

"We do that, too," Luke told her solemnly. "Mum and I, and my friends."

"Good for you." That could have sounded sarcastic, Romana realized after the words had already escaped her, but Luke just nodded stiffly, and then looked at his mother. "I'll go downstairs. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sarah caught his shoulder as he turned and kissed his hair quickly, then shut the door behind him.

"He seems like a very clever and kind young man," Romana said, because that, too, seemed the right thing to say, and also because it seemed true. He really did remind her of Adric, but he also had a sweet sort of solemnity that was immediately compelling. He earnestly believed everything he said, she thought - if he had come upstairs and found his mother in danger, he would gladly have fought whatever enemy he found. Were Humans like that because of how short their lifespans were, having to be that brave from the start, just to face the universe, or was it a trait common to children of all species? Romana felt a pang for the thought of a child. Once upon a time she'd considered such an option, but... somehow she'd never found the time, and then there was the war... "Er... thank you, Sarah Jane. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

The apology seemed to mollify the Human woman's temper somewhat. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help. If there is something...?"

"I'll let you know."

The dusky color of early evening descended over London as Romana stepped out into the street, but she felt as though it ought to be midnight. Once again, she had no idea where she should go next, or what she could do to get any closer to her goals. It was so frustrating! The Guardian had all the power - he moved through time and space at will, while she was stuck now in the twenty-first century, limited by their primitive technology. She'd come here with the idea that it would be a simple matter to borrow Chronotis' Tardis and use it to accomplish her objectives, but that had failed miserably. Even K-9 was too busy to help her. She could go back to Ace, she supposed, but the thought of tangling that irrepressible young woman up in the battle that faced her now filled Romana with misgivings. Perhaps the Doctor could excuse carrying innocents into danger all the time, but that wasn't her style. Not after what had happened with Gallifrey; she had enough blood on her hands, she thought, for this and all her lifetimes to come.

"One more scan," she told herself. "If I don't pick anything up, I'll go... where?" Romana snorted and shook her head. Leaving a message with Ace and then waiting for the young woman to turn up again would be her best bet for travel off of Earth, but even that seemed unlikely to do her much good. She would exhaust all possibilities on Earth first, then... and decide what to do next when she arrived at that point.

At first, the scan didn't seem to pick up anything. Then she noticed a residual field off to the west. It was hard to tell, but it looked like... a rift? And under that, so faint she almost missed it, was the signal of a Tardis. It was a young one, and faint, but in time it would grow, and she might be able to find a way to stimulate it. Maybe the Doctor and Chronotis weren't the only survivors - maybe another Time Lord was hiding right here on Earth.

"If they are, they'd better be ready for company," Romana muttered, and turned back to London to catch a west-bound train.

Chapter 5: The Rift, the Gentleman and the Soldier

Romana had survived traveling alone through E-space and through this universe, innumerable kidnapping and assassination attempts, and all-out war with the Daleks, but for sheer frustration and agony, she rather thought that London train stations at rush-hour had all of those beat by a good margin. She'd been squashed, shoved and even heckled on and off three trains between Croydon and Cardiff, both under and above ground, and by the time she arrived at Cardiff station she had reached the breaking point. Grey skies were poured down rain, and the old, rough coat Romana had stolen from the Doctor soaked through to her skin almost immediately as she stepped out of the station into the open evening. "I should have brought Ace with me, so we could just hop to where or whenever we needed to go," Romana grumbled. "Or I should never have come here. At least it doesn't rain in the Vortex!"

At least if Ace had been along she wouldn't have felt so alone in the universe. The Doctor didn't remember she existed, Chronotis barely remembered that he existed, and the rest of the Time Lords were a fading memory in the whispers of the Vortex. The Doctor had waxed poetic in the past about the charms of Human companionship, but, with the exception of Ace, Romana had found a tired, ill-dressed traveler to be mostly beneath their notice. Cardiff seemed to be no different - the few Humans who took notice of her as she made her way toward the town center eyed her with a mixture of dulled pity and vague suspicion. She didn't belong, she wasn't a tourist... at best, they probably thought she was a homeless vagrant. Exactly the truth, Romana thought with a bitter snort.

The trail of the Tardis energy and the rift led Romana straight to the center of Cardiff... and then no further. The rift seemed to be right beneath her feet, but as for the Tardis, she could see no sign of it. It was too young to have a working chameleon circuit, but there nothing there that could be said to resemble a Tardis, even a very small one. And the rain was still rushing down in buckets. All the tourists and business-people had vanished inside, and the clouds grew thicker by the moment, as though they were hoping to block out the sun entirely, or just drown the city wholesale. Or just her, considering she was the only person still out in the rain.

"What?" Romana yelled at the sky. She was too tired to move, too tired to be reasonable, and entirely too sick of her whole endeavour to think about what to do next. "Is this it? Is this how the Time Lords die? We just disappear one by one, as though nobody ever knew we were there to begin with? Is that how it happens - each of us the last, each of us alone? Is that it?"

"Of course it is, my dear. That's how everything dies. Alone, and railing at the unfairness of the universe."

Romana whirled. A small, grandfatherly man in a white suit stood behind her, holding a neat white umbrella above his head. When she blinked, she could see a shimmer of black around the edges of him, as if he was a double-image.

"Guardian."

"Ex-President Romanadvoratrelundar. You'll forgive me for not bowing. I'd hate to tip my umbrella in all this rain."

"You caused it, didn't you."

The Guardian smiled. "I wanted us to have a chance to chat for a bit, alone."

"You could have asked me in for a cup of tea," Romana suggested sarcastically.

"Ah, but you wouldn't have taken food from me. You'd suspect me of poison, no doubt. A petty and nasty way to kill a person, I think. Not worthy of a gentleman."

"You're not a gentleman, Guardian."

"Such a tongue on you. So arrogant. No wonder the Council was eager to be rid of you - you were probably driving them mad with all your childish suggestions, your youthful arrogance. You really thought you could make a difference." He practically spat the word. "Well, my dear, now you see how the universe really works. Even the mighty Time Lords are just so many pawns in the greater game."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." The Guardian smiled. "But I will offer you this last choice - side with me, give yourself to me, or I'll kill the others. I can do it so easily... Already since you left him, your Doctor has wasted yet another of his last, precious lives."

"You're lying."

"Certainly not. The Doctor has died. I saw it myself, watched him ripped apart, atom by atom, by the heart of his own Tardis. His foolish Human companion opened it up because she thought she could save him, and she brought death and paradox into the universe when she meant to bring life. Typical of Humans - they always think they know what's best. No wonder you Time Lords seem to like them so much. Oh, and the old one, the Professor of Time, he'll die, too. I'll squeeze his hearts until they pop, one by one." He smiled again, so grandfatherly and friendly. "And then there will be only you."

"I don't believe you," Romana repeated, but the words sounded hollow even to her. Chronotis was at the end of his life, he had been as long as she'd known him - the old Time Lord was ancient beyond even their species' great lifespan. It would take so little to push him over the edge. As for the Doctor...

"He was so lonely, you know," the Guardian commented in an off-hand manner, polishing his glasses on a bright yellow handkerchief. "So miserably alone. He blamed himself for everything, for the war, for the destruction of Gallifrey and the death of all his people... If there had been someone with him, I think, someone who understood... perhaps he wouldn't have been so imeptuous, so determined to give up his life in service of something. Anything. I wonder..."

"Shut up," Romana snapped.

"Ah, the sweet sound of guilt. Open your hearts to that, Romanadvoratrelundar. Taste it in your blood. Let it settle in the pit of your stomach, the knowledge that if you'd only stayed with him, he might not have been quite so eager to throw himself into the fire, so to speak." He paused, and then popped his glasses back onto his nose and gave her a bright little grin. "But of course... you had such important things to do."

"Go away."

The Guardian laughed. "Oh dear, is that the best you can do? That is a sad change. I remember you... oh, it seems like just yesterday, doesn't it? You were so fiery, you had such spark. Such strength. You were willing to die, just to make sure the Doctor got that last piece of the Key, and I promise you, my dear, you would not have regenerated. And now look at you - why, you wear the face and form of that little lie, that holy metaphor bundled up in the shape of a living thing that you were so very keen to protect. Do you know what happened to the sweet Princess Astra? It probably never occurred to you or the Doctor to look in on her, after that, did it? I'll tell you."

He leaned close, and his breath puffed cool and scented with anise against her cheek. "She died. Just died, that's all, not so very long after you and the Doctor left her to that beautiful life you were protecting. One of those soldiers just couldn't bear the thought of the war really ending, so he murdered his princess - stabbed her in the back, and then slit her throat so she couldn't scream. She bled to death in her own castle, with her fiance just three rooms away. That, my dear, was the life you protected. That's all. Nothing... wonderful or thrilling, nothing that changed the universe, nothing even pleasant. By saving her from the transformation, you bought her barely a month of breath, and a far more painful end than she would have suffered as the Key, I assure you. And all that energy, all that potential? It vanished. Puffed out of existence, just like her. Just like... Gallifrey."

His hand snapped out and caught Romana by the throat, lifting her an inch off the ground. She clawed at his wrist, flailed and tried to kick or hit him, but he was stronger than he looked - one of the benefits, she supposed, of being a sort of metaphysical construct. "What do you think of that, Romanadvoratrelundar? Was it worth it? Was it worth making an enemy of me?"

"Better than using her," Romana hissed. "Better than giving the key over to you."

"Better!" The Guardian gritted his teeth, and spittle flew from his lips as he shook her. "Better to follow orders! Better to do what you're told, let your superiors decide whether the consequences are worth braving! Better to die than to cause the death of your whole race! I ought to cast you into the rift, let you float there forever, forgotten and helpless but never dying, never quite using up the last of your life. I ought to--"

"I'd say you ought to put the lady down."

The Guardian turned to face this new voice, and Romana took her chance. She swung her legs as hard as she could and kicked him. At the same moment, she heard a gunshot. The Guardian's grip on her neck broke, and she fell backward and to the ground, propelled by her own momentum, and hit the concrete with a sharp pain to her shoulder and left leg.

"You fool! You pathetic, idiotic Human!"

"Yeah, whatever. I hear it all the time. What is it with you aliens, always gotta give us the speech about how low we are." The man grinned, his American accent settling into an especially strong twang for a moment. "If we're so pathetic, maybe you ought'a just leave us alone."

"I would," the Guardian said with a smile, "but you're getting in my way. I'm afraid you'll just have to die."

A crackle of energy followed this, followed by a strangled sound from the direction of the Human. Romana stood up with a groan, doing her best to ignore the pain. Her rescuer, a tall, dark-haired human with a square jaw and a long grey coat, was struggling with what looked like a loop of yellowish white light that had wrapped itself around his throat and was tightening. Already his face was purple, and his gun was on the ground, dropped from limp fingers that shook at his sides.

"I didn't mean to involve you worms in this. This is a matter for your betters, the species in this universe that really matter. You should have stayed out of the way, and everything--"

No, no... no more casualties, no more deaths... Romana dug through her pockets. Blessedly, as he cackled with joy at tormenting the American man, the Guardian didn't seem notice that she was back on her feet until she shouted for his attention.

"Guardian!" Romana lifted her sonic screwdriver when he turned. "Shut up." She turned on the screwdriver, setting twelve, and watched as his energy weapon disipated in the interfering soundwaves. Then she turned the weapon on her enemy. "Get out of here. I'm warning you - now is not the time. Not here, not now. When we fight, I want no collateral damage."

The Guardian gave a short bark of laughter. The Human had crumpled to the ground, unmoving, his tongue swelled out between his teeth and his gun on the ground at his feet, but all of the enemy's attention was on Romana. The gun didn't matter to him - it was just a distraction. "Time Lord... you amuse me, but I'm getting tired of these games. It would have been amusing to come up with a more interesting death for you, but I'll settle for not having to bother with you anymore." He waved his hand, and Romana felt a sudden burning around her throat... no, in her throat. A ball of solid electricity lodged there, blocking her air, and it was spreading quickly.

"You miss the Time Vortex, I'm sure - traveling unfettered and free in a Tardis, as a Time Lord ought to," the Guardian told her in a smooth voice. "Have a little souvenir. That's pure vortex energy, Romanadvoratrelundar, straight from the heart of the last living Tardis. Since you wouldn't share the Doctor's last journey, at least share his latest death with him. Burn from the inside out. Goodbye."

Romana tried to scream at him as he disappeared, but no air came in or out. She fell to her knees and watched the light begin to flicker over her skin as white-hot pain flowed like mercury through her veins, pumping with all the strength of both her hearts. She had to regenerate, but without another Time Lord, without even a Tardis to help the process along, she had little hope of it succeeding. She could get stuck, trapped between forms, or just lose cellular cohesion altogether and end up speeding her own death. She had to... find...

Desperate, she flailed out with her mind, hoping to catch the attention of someone, anyone who might have the telepathic ability to sense her, Time Lord or not, and she thought she felt something in return, just for an instant, but then it faded so quickly she was sure she'd imagined it, and she didn't have the strength for any more.

In the last moments before she lost consciousness, she heard a thrumming sound, steady and distant, like the beat of oncoming drums.

Chapter 6: The Master Plan

"Wakey-wakey!"

Romana moaned, but kept her eyes scrunched closed. Whatever it was that was talking to her, it could wait - her head seemed to be swimming in taffy, and her limbs felt as though they were weighed down with stones.

"Come on, wake up. You haven't even thanked me for saving your life. That's very ungrateful of you. I should be insulted."

Confusion shook off a little bit of the dizzy heaviness in her mind. Her life? Yes, the Guardian... the Guardian had tried to kill her, and she'd been trying to regenerate... But the man who'd helped her had been dead - a Human couldn't survive the damage she'd seen on his body. She forced her eyes open, and looked into a smiling, pointy face that she didn't recognize. Then the telepathic energy hit her. The stranger was a Time Lord.

"President Romanadvoratrelundar," the other Time Lord announced, sounding deeply amused. "Just fancy you and I meeting like this. I was so happy when I saw you on the closed-circuit readers. Good thing for you I happened to be in a position to do something about it."

"That's wonderful," Romana grumbled listlessly. "I'm so pleased." She tried to sit up. "Why have you tied me down?"

"Oh, you were rattling on in your sleep, I thought you'd do yourself an injury. I was very worried. Up you go, then." He released the bonds. "Oh, and just so you know? You've got about five minutes before your regeneration cycle ends." He handed her a mirror. "If you don't like anything about that face, you'd better change it fast before you're stuck with it."

Five minutes left in a cycle that lasted fifteen hours... could she really have slept so long? He could have been lying, but... no, Romana felt the cellular energy starting to dissipate - on this, at least, it seemed that he was telling the truth. She looked in the mirror. The face was younger than she'd looked in a few decades, with hair a slightly lighter shade of blonde. The nose was a bit long and the eyes startlingly pale blue, but she thought she rather liked it. It was different, but not so much so that it would take too much getting used to.

"You like it, then? It's good, isn't it?" The other Time Lord smiled at her, as though he'd done the work himself, and Romana's fingers went cold with fear.

"You influenced it," she accused. Conscious influence of another Time Lord's regeneration process was possible, even condoned within close families and house structures, but the thought of a stranger reaching into her mind and her cellular structure, twisting and twining DNA to his whims... the very thought made Romana nauseated, made her wish that she had the time to throw away this shape and start fresh with an entirely new form.

The other, however, just waved off her shock as though he'd done her a favor. "Well, just a tweak here and there. I thought it was fair, you know - you don't want to end up with a face like a horse and a pile of curls, do you?"

The Doctor - he was talking about the Doctor, that meant he knew him... that meant he was... The manner of the man leaning over her suddenly clicked into place in Romana's mind. "What are you doing here?" she snapped. "You're dead, you used up your last regeneration centuries ago."

"Oh, but the Council was so worried about their little war. You'd already gone into hiding when they brought me out - nice job, by the way, disappearing when your poor people most needed a leader. Good plan, that. They offered me life again, a whole new cycle of regenerations, if only I would fight the enemy for them."

"I didn't disappear. They stuck me in a box and tossed me away. They knew I wouldn't approve of what they planned."

"What, bringing me back?" Palms pressed to his hearts, he made a little moue of sadness. "Oh, but you know I'm the perfect warrior."

"Perfect, but mad."

"So you do know who I am." He grinned. "I was afraid you hadn't recognized me, there for a bit. It was touch and go for a bit there, I thought you might've been more damaged than the regeneration could fix."

"I know you, and I won't be involved in whatever you're doing here. I'm leaving."

"Ooo, but that wouldn't be a good idea, would it?" He frowned again, pretending thoughtful consideration. "You're not through with your regeneration yet, not completely. You're still weak. You might get hurt if I let you go." He let that hang in the air for a moment, allowing her to absorb the implied threat before he continued. "And it's my duty as a Time Lord to protect the President of Gallifrey, isn't it? But, tell you what - you say my name, and we'll just let the past be forgotten. Bygones and all that. All right?"

"No." The symbolism of that act was too much for her to give willingly.

"Come on, it's easy! Only two syllables, that's such a small price for freedom." He leaned over her, a feral grin turning his face into a skull's mockery of pleasure. "Say it. Say my name."

"Forget it." Romana glared up at him. "It's not your real name, anyway."

"It's as real as the Doctor's, and you call him by his name, don't you? I'll bet you scream it, don't you? Just like all his little Human toys. Obscene, really, taking those animals with him everywhere he goes. It's disgusting. Just think - you let him touch you after he'd touched all those Humans. Oh, and after that? How long do you think it took him to find another one to replace you, when you'd left?"

"You're the disgusting one." Romana tried to stand, but he pushed her back against the sofa.

"Oh, sure - you'll insult me, but you still won't say my name! Say it!" he raged. All pretense of polite conversation was gone, now, and for an instant his slim face contorted with fury before he regained control over the act. "Say it or I could do something very nasty indeed to your regeneration process - you've still got two minutes, if I change something now you won't have time to fix it before the shape is permanent. How do you fancy spending this life with two noses, maybe, or a pig's snout? Purple skin? Boils, oh, I could do some lovely boils, all over that pretty face. Or maybe I could just wait. Wait just a few little minutes until you can't grow anything back, and then I could start cutting." He lifted what looked like a gold version of a sonic screwdriver. "I could do it, you know. There's nobody here who'd stop me. But you know what?"

He paused, and then let his expression reform into the shape of a pleasant smile, leaned down, and whispered directly against her ear: "I'm not going to. Because, my darling Lady Ex-President, I have so many better plans for you. So many, you have no idea. But don't worry. You'll get to see it all. The universe is going to change, oh, and you'll be there to see the whole beautiful disaster."

"Then I'll stop you!" The statement was pure theatrics, of course, Romana realized - unarmed and alone, without even a Tardis, there was little she could do to prevent the Master from doing whatever he damned well pleased, not without the time and materials it would take to make new tools, new weapons... and it didn't much look like he was going to give her that chance. But she had to try.

The Master laughed. "No you won't. You'll be glad of every bit of it, I promise you. You'll enjoy it. The game is already in motion. And now..." He lifted an apparatus off a nearby desk. "I'll have a queen in my corner of the board."

It was a chameleon arch. Romana screamed and struggled to get up, but her legs were still bound, and her new body was still too weak and untried to fight him off properly.

"I've always wondered what possible use the Doctor saw in keeping a Human companion around," the Master told her in a conversational tone. "Now I'll find out. Goodbye, Lady President. I'll see you again, but you won't see me!"

The arch came down over her head, and for the second time that day Romana felt the burning of a thousand stars through her veins as it rewrote her DNA and her memories.

Chapter 7: The Queen Beside the Throne

"Is it gone?" Lucy asked. "The horrible star-thing, did you destroy it?"

Harry Saxon, her beloved husband, finished taking off his coat and scarf, and draped them on the back of the sofa before turning to admire the Christmas tree she'd finished decorating while he was gone. Then he turned back to her and grinned. "We destroyed it. I told you, Lucy - nothing will threaten England so long as I'm here."

"Oh, they're sure to make you prime minister, now, Harry! You'll be in before they've fnished counting the votes."

"Well, they still haven't held the election, have they?" He smiled even wider, though, and she knew she'd said the right thing. She loved when she said the right thing - it always seemed to have happened so rarely before she met him.

"You'll be voted in before they've finished counting," Lucy repeated. "And what then, Harry? Those things you showed me, when we went in the box..."

"The Tardis."

"In the Tardis," she corrected herself smoothly. (The Tardis? There was something about that word... something... something... No, it just sounded funny, didn't it? What a very funny word it was...) "Those things, they'll come here then?"

"Very soon after, my dear. And then all our plans will come to fruition, I promise you. Exactly as we've planned."

Lucy loved how he said that - how he always said 'we' as though she'd been a part of the planning, as though she was his partner, rather than just his wife. She'd never been clever (Hadn't she? Didn't she sometimes remember... But those were dreams, dreams where she finished school with the highest honors. Funny dreams for a girl who'd never much bothered with her studies, never much cared for the gaining of knowledge that always seemed to slip right out from between her ears...), but he treated her like she was important. He treated her like what she said mattered. And that was why she loved him.

"What if someone notices?" she asked. "What if someone sees that you're..." she looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper, even though they were safe in their own house. "What if they see that you're an alien, Harry?"

"Don't worry, my dear. They won't. I've got it all figured out, I promise. No one will know before we want them to. And when they know, it will all be too late for them."

Lucy sighed contentedly and rounded the table to perch on his lap, setting her head on her husband's shoulder. "Are there lots of aliens in the universe, Harry? Lots of different kinds, I mean."

"Sure, there are lots out there."

(A flash entered her mind - dark metal and bright blue light, a harsh voice grating like nails on a chalkboard.) Lucy shivered. "Tell me about them?"

"Which ones? Mean, scary aliens?" He made a horrible face and dropped it again, like a mask. He was such a good storyteller, her Harry. "Or silly ones? Foolish, brainless creatures that can hardly find their own feet without help?"

Another flash of imagination flared, this time with rough, thick brown skin and heavy-set eyes, a mouth like a slit in a roasted potato. "Nice ones," she said quickly. "Tell me about friendly, beautiful aliens. There are some of those, aren't there, somewhere?"

"Of course there are." Harry touched her hair, stroking it softly. "Let me see... They're not really the ones to remember, are they? But you want pretty... and I can do that. I know. Let me tell you a story about the Gelth. They're all gone, now, but when they were here in the universe, they were pretty creatures made all of energy. Bright blue like the hottest fire, with voices as light as birdsong..."

Lucy sighed again and laid her head back down on his shoulder, letting the words wash over her like a lullabye, like a song that blocked out all the bad thoughts in her mind and left her with a warm, comfortable blanket over her mind. Everything seemed perfect while he was talking. Everything seemed right, and she didn't feel even the slightest of doubts.

Lucy Saxon had strange dreams.

She dreamed sometimes of the blue box that Harry had taken her traveling in, with its interior painted all white. Other times she dreamed of a beautiful planet with orange skies and endless mountains, and a city covered in sparkling glass, far more wonderful than anything she'd ever seen on Earth. She dreamed of a man with a bright, wide smile and big, silly eyes, curly hair, and a scarf that trailed all the way to the ground, and of another man who wore a leather coat and whose blue eyes looked like they'd seen all the pain in the world - the universe - a thousand times. He reminded her of Harry a little bit, though she couldn't figure out why. In the dreams he smiled at her and said her name like it mattered to him, but the name wasn't Lucy, and she could never remember it when she woke up.

Maybe it was because of Harry. He was an alien, wasn't he? A special one, a lord of time and space, something a bit like a god. So maybe something about him, about them, meant that she was dreaming his memories. But that didn't seem quite right. In the dreams, she always felt that she was still a woman. Just not a woman like herself. She knew that much very certainly, that the woman she was in her dreams was not her.

The woman in her dreams was never afraid. No matter what happened in those dreams - because the dreams weren't always good, and sometimes terrible things happened - the woman in her dreams was never terrified, not really. She might be angry, she was often worried or nervous, but in her dreams Lucy never felt the stomach twisting, finger-tingling terror that she knew she, Lucy Saxon, would have felt if she'd been the one living those nightmares.

Lucy knew she was a coward. She always had been - always afraid, always nervous, always worried about what her father would find fault with or what her mother would make a nasty comment about. In the dreams, she faced all sorts of dangers without fear, without running to anyone or hiding her eyes and wishing it would all just go away. In the dreams, she was brave, steadfast, and confident. That was how she knew the woman in the dreams couldn't really be her. Not really. She wasn't like that at all.

Sometimes she wished she could stay asleep to dream them a while longer, though.

After Harry was elected, Lucy thought everything was going to be perfect. But everything changed after he called the little robot things. First there was that terrible reporter, saying things that she couldn't possibly know, how could she ever have found out? They'd killed her, and it had been so disgusting, so very... It was like all the horrible things in her dreams, and Lucy tried as hard as she could to forget all of it. But then there were more of them, and more people who needed killing, and that Doctor, always upsetting poor Harry and making him angry. And that was when it started going truly bad - after Harry'd captured the Doctor. Something about that Doctor infuriated Harry. There was something about him, something he couldn't break, something he couldn't touch, and it made him... it changed him.

It made him want to break other things. Things he could touch.

She didn't mind when his anger vented onto the Jones family - they were irritating anyway, the pretty, pretty young girl that Harry had looked at with such lusty attention on his first day as Prime Minister, and that mother with her sharp tongue and her squinted, knowing eyes. She didn't mind, either, when he called in prisoners and spent hours with them, trying to get the Doctor to break, to shatter, to give up. She'd seen a few of them as they went in - a shrill middle-aged Australian woman with short hair and crass makeup, who bit Harry's hand and made him bleed before she died; a younger woman with long, dark blonde hair who'd blown up some of his facilities; a greying old lady-scientist who spoke in a calm voice and cursed him before he broke her bones one by one; and a pretty old journalist - it was always the journalists who did the most damage, Lucy thought with a shudder - who raged and spat and fought like a demon before she finally went down. Lucy Saxon watched them all as they were carried in in chains, and watched them all as they were dragged out and dropped over the edge of the Valiant, out into the sky, nothing but broken bodies. And she was grateful, because every minute he spent with one of them was a minute he ignored her.

She'd never wanted him to ignore her, before. But then, people had always said that she wasn't very clever, hadn't they? And it had turned out that they were right.

Harry hit her. He hit her when things went wrong and when they went right, when she said something stupid, and when she was silent. He kissed her sometimes, too, and it got to the point that she never knew what to expect. It got to the point that she didn't particularly care, one way or the other. It was all the same in the end. It all hurt.

She was sitting on the flight deck one night, drinking tea and hoping Harry would tire himself out with the latest girl he'd had brought up from the surface so that she could get some sleep, when the Doctor - old and wretched and locked up in that damned bird-cage that amused Harry so much - called her over to him. "Lucy? Come here." That was all. Like he expected her to just obey him, like all those women-friends of his that Harry had killed. They all must have obeyed him just like that, the fools. Look at what good it did them.

"I won't let you out," she told him plainly. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have the key. But I wouldn't anyway."

"No, just come here."

His voice sounded so oddly normal, not at all squeaky like it should have been for his current size. She sighed, got up, and walked across the room.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just to talk." He looked up at her. "What happened to your eye? The left one, it's swollen."

She lifted her hand and touched it. It hurt. "I fell."

"You fell." He frowned, and the lines on his face grew deeper with pity.

"It was last night, I fell out of bed." Lucy straightened and lowered her hand. She didn't need his pity. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Yes, it does," he said softly. "And I don't believe for a minute that you just fell."

"What would you know about it," she snapped, and shoved the cage so it swung. He fell to his knees and winced, and his huge, rheumy brown eyes blinked up at her. She felt disgusting. She felt like she'd kicked a hurt dog. She also felt powerful - maybe even a bit like Harry felt.

The Doctor didn't give her time to work out the contradiction. "He's not kind to you, is he, Lucy?"

"I'm not going to talk to you about him."

"I know him, Lucy. I know him even better than you do, and I know he's very convincing when he wants to be. But he's not really kind to you anymore, is he?"

She turned her back on him. The nasty little thing, trying to humiliate her like this...

"I'm sorry, Lucy. I really am. I'm so sorry he's done this to you."

She grabbed a pen off the table and turned back to him, and poked it through the bars of the cage, pushing his little bowl of water out the other side. It clattered to the ground and splashed everywhere, and the stupid little Doctor-thing just stared blankly at her.

"Don't feel sorry for me, you fool," she snapped. "I'm not the one in the cage."

It occurred to her as she stalked out of the room that maybe she was. Maybe the whole Valiant was a cage, and she was just one step away from the same as the Doctor. That thought made her so panicked and queasy that she squashed it as quickly as she could, and forgot all about it by the next day. It was easy to forget things, now. It was easier just not to think.

That night she dreamed of tall spires under glass that reflected two suns. Sleek ships burned in the sky above the glass, and the-woman-who-was-not-Lucy let a man with a velvet jacket and sad, tired brown eyes hold her for a moment - just a moment - before she told him that she had something important for him to do. Something terrible. Something that would end it all.

When Lucy woke up the next morning, the dream flitted around the edges of her mind, tantalizing, and a possibility began to grow.

When the gun dropped in front of her, she saw what the dream had meant. It was so easy to pick it up. No one was paying attention to her. Stupid, helpless little Lucy - why would anyone need to watch her? She picked up the gun that the Doctor had taken away from that shrill, screaming Jones woman, and she held it in her hand. It was almost pretty, in a way. All sleek and black and shiny. (A flash, black metal shining in dim light, and a voice that screamed and screeched, green light filling her with pain.)

If she killed him, maybe the dreams would go away. If she killed him, maybe the world would end. If she killed him, maybe they would kill her. Any of these possibilities would be all right, Lucy thought.

She lifted the gun. It couldn't be all that difficult, shooting a man. Guards and thugs and criminals did it all the time. She held the gun out with both hands. She pulled the trigger and staggered behind the rebound.

She should have missed. She'd never fired a gun before, how could a person kill someone with their very first shot, when they'd never so much as held a gun before? But Harry was falling, and the Doctor shouted something and ran forward. Ran to Harry. He caught him and lowered him gently to the ground.

They touched like lovers. Was that what all of this was about? Well, if the stupid Doctor wanted him, he coulavei> him. They were meant for each other, the fools, as far as she was concerned - they both brought death and destruction wherever they went. They talked for a while, and Lucy just stared, not listening. And then there was a rush of some kind. Something... something... familiar... It smelled like a thunderstorm, like rain on pavement on a spring day when the world is heavy and everything is waiting, and Lucy felt dizzy. She wobbled on her high-heeled shoes (Why high heels? Harry had liked them, he said they did fabulous things to her arse, but... but she remembered laughing and running on a beach in little flat-soled shoes that hadn't made her stumble. Running to someone who waited on a folding chair and laughed with her, called out to her with his voice warm and rich with love. She must have been a child when that happened. Maybe she could wear shoes like that again, now that Harry was dead.)

The rush was gone. Voices were calling out from the radio fixture, asking what had happened to the president.

"Mrs. Saxon..."

Lucy didn't turn, didn't even wonder who it was. "Don't call me that."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

She lifted her head. One of the guards, one of the faceless, black-wearing guards was holding her arm as though he was afraid she'd run, or maybe faint. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

"Harry..."

"Your husband's dead, ma'am." The guard met her eyes, and she was surprised to notice that they were a pretty sort of greyish blue. She'd always liked blue eyes (hadn't she? Harry's eyes had been brown...). "We need to get you somewhere safe."

He started to pull her away, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "He's dead. I killed him."

The guard hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes, ma'am. You did. But let's not talk about that right now. Right now, we need to get you somewhere safe."

Lucy Saxon slipped her hand into the arm of the guard, and let him lead her away from the Doctor, who was still crying over her dead husband's body. Wherever they were going, it had to be someplace better than that.

The guard's name was John Benton, and he worked for the United Nations. The men in his family had always been in military service, back as far as anyone could remember, and his grandfather had been there when the United Nations first started. He'd gotten his young son, Benton's father, also named John, a start in the intelligence organization that grew out of it, and Benton's father had followed that tradition with his son. All of this, Lucy learned in the helicopter ride away from the Valiant. She didn't like helicopters. Even with the enormous headphones that allowed her to hear the pilot and her guard, she could hear the sound of the chopper. It sounded like drums.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they reached the ground and Benton steered her carefully toward a waiting, black car.

"Somewhere safe," he told her firmly. "Everyone will want to know that you're somewhere safe."

"But... I killed him!" she hissed.

"No, don't say that." Benton pulled very close to her, looking around to make sure that none of the accompanying men and women in dark suits had heard what she'd said. "Ma'am, it's very important that you stop saying that. You and I both know what happened, but the rest of the world... To the rest of the world, everything stopped after the Toclafane appeared and killed President Thompson, all right? They think your husband was killed by them, too."

"But everything else--"

"It never happened, for any of them. Only for us. We remember because we were at the center. It's like a storm."

She remembered the smell of thunderstorms and wet pavement. "A storm," she repeated nervously.

"Yeah, like the calm at the center of a storm, you know? Like that. We didn't get caught up in it, but everybody else did, and their memories... all blew away, I guess. Ma'am," he added awkwardly, as if he'd just realized that he was talking to her like an equal, not the like very recent widow of the prime minister.

"But where are we going?"

"Let's just say, ma'am, that where we're going, no one will be able to hurt you. I promise. All right? Now please, just step into the car."

Lucy allowed him to hand her into the car, and sat in stony silence while they drove out, into the countryside, out to a little house in the middle of nowhere, where the car stopped, and Benton stepped out and handed her back out. "You'll be safe here," he repeated as they walked up the drive, her hand tucked in his arm. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be safe from, anymore, but she liked the sound of that nonetheless. She got a good night's sleep, peaceful and alone, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

When she awoke the next morning, however, there was a bit of a problem. She woke just knowing that there was something she had to do.

"Morning, ma'am." John Benton, the soldier from the night before, was standing in the kitchen of the little house. The makings of a full breakfast surrounded him. Eggs, toast, jam, tomatoes frying on the stove... and a huge pot of tea.

Lucy ignored all the rest and poured herself a large cup of tea with milk and no sugar. It was Earl Grey. Perfect. Lucy took a deep sip, and then sat back and regarded her guard with a thoughtful expression. "Good morning, Mister Benton. I'd like to see my husband's body today."

Mister Benton dropped his pot-holder onto the stove. It caught fire.

He swatted it out quickly against the counter, but the damage had already been done - a big singe mark marred the pretty blue fabric. "Ma'am, I... I understand you want to pay your respects, ma'am, but--"

"I don't want to pay my respects." Lucy took another sip of her tea. "I want to make sure he's dead."

Her dreams that past night had been very clear about this - Harry could very well not be really dead. She wasn't sure how or why, but knowing him... well, it didn't seem surprising, did it? He'd always acted as though nothing could stop him, nothing at all, and now... one little bullet? That was all? No, no, no. That couldn't be right. And if he really wasn't dead, he'd be sure to come and find her, wouldn't he, and this silly little soldier-boy would be no protection at all. No, she had to see for sure, for herself, and that was the end of it.

Benton blanched. "Ma'am... you shot him. I was right there, I saw it happen. You shot him, and then the Doctor tried to convince him to regenerate, but he wouldn't. He's dead."

"You don't know him like I do."

"But--"

"You don't know him like I do! I know him, and I know--" (What did she know? Something... something important...) Something was niggling, like a tune she couldn't identify but couldn't quite get out of her mind, either. "I know I need to see him," she finished, as confidently as she could. "I need to be sure. Do this for me... John," she added after a moment of desperate mental searching through their conversations of the last day. "Please." Men always had taken well to her using their first name. She hoped this soldier would be no different.

John Benton looked into her eyes, and then sighed. "All right. But we have to be careful."

He nattered on for a good while about exactly how they'd have to go about this - apparently there were other people watching her, not just him, and they'd have to leave after dark and things like that, to keep out of sight. But Lucy wasn't really listening to him. She was listening... inside. That 'something' that had been niggling at the back of her mind just kept getting louder and louder, and she could almost hear it, now. It was like hearing music from another room but not being quite able to hear the words or make out the melody. She knew it was there... but she couldn't... quite...

But soon. Soon. She just had to wait until night fell, and then they would go. And then, somehow, everything would be all right.

Later that evening, as they stepped out of his car, Benton had a horrible feeling he'd have to restrain Lucy from running down the hill to where the Doctor was still burning the Master's body. She didn't try, though - she just sat down on the high ground above the beach and watched. As they waited, she methodically plucked strands of grass from the dirt in front of her, shredded them into fibers, and then threw the little bits to the ground one by one. Then she'd pluck another and start again from the beginning.

"Mrs. Saxon," Benton whispered, "I'm not sure this is wise. Let's just--"

"I'm not leaving until I've seen," she snapped. "I have to make sure. I have to make sure that he's dead."

She's gone overboard, old chap, Benton thought. And who's going to catch the blame if the Doctor flies into a rage and kills her, hmm? You can bet it won't be him... It made sense, Benton knew, in return for all the good the Doctor'd done back in his father's day, and since. Even just with what he'd done recently, though only a few of the highest members of Unit's hierarchy knew the full story of the disaster they were calling "the year that wasn't." But none of it had been Lucy's fault. She couldn't be blamed for what she'd done.

He had to admit, he'd been watching her most of that year. Beautiful girl, of course, and the Benton men had always had an eye for the pretty girls, as his father'd often said... particularly the ones associated with aliens, the younger Benton privately thought, as he remembered his father's many stories about the Doctor's pretty young female companions. He'd watched over the year as Mr. Saxon increasingly took out his ire whenever (and on whomever) he pleased, and he'd seen that Lucy Saxon got more than her fair share. She might have been his wife, she might even have been cooperating with him from time to time in his plans, but John Benton would lay down his pay for that whole year (or at least the pay he should have got, had Mr. Saxon been in the habit of actually keeping up on payroll) that Lucy Saxon very much wished she hadn't been involved, now. He wasn't a medical man, but he knew bruises and cuts when he saw them, and he'd seen plenty on everyone this last year, not least on Lucy's pale, pretty skin. He'd seen the way Saxon - the way the Master ignored her, shoved her off like an annoying little dog. And he remembered the old files his father'd shared with him, and the stories about a man from another world who could control Human minds with the sound of his voice. "'Know thy enemy,'" his father'd told him solemnly, all those years ago when he started out in Unit. "That man will be back someday, son. And it's to us to keep him off, whenever the Doctor isn't around to help us."

Well, the Doctor was there, wasn't he? And as grateful as John Benton was for what he'd done, he was also aware that the man had looked none too happy about having his old enemy vanquished by a gun in a lady's hand. His father's stories about the Doctor had been all kindness and courage and funny little quirks, but Benton was beginning to think there was something else to this Doctor, a darkness that showed now in the shadows cast by the pyre, and he didn't like the idea of Lucy Saxon coming face to face with that alone.

"Mrs. Saxon, please..."

"There he goes. See, he's leaving." She pointed down to the dark figure by the fire, and sure enough he turned away from its light and walked slowly up the beach, his hands stuck deep in his pockets and his head stiff and high, as though he couldn't bear to look backward.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, ma'am? In your state..."

"There's nothing wrong with me. I just need to see him. I need to know..."

"I know, I know. But Mrs... but Lucy, listen." Benton touched her shoulder, just as gently as he could. "You didn't do anything wrong back there, all right? I saw... a lot of things, on that ship. A lot of things he did. You weren't wrong to shoot him, whatever the Doctor said. Okay?"

She looked up at him, her eyes as blank as glass and her beautiful face empty of emotion. "I just need to see," she repeated calmly. And with that, she began to scramble down the hill. Benton shook his head and followed after her.

The pyre was burning low by the time they reached it. The sharp smells of pitch and sea air and smoke all tried to mask the sickly scent of burning flesh, but couldn't quite do the job. Benton covered his nose and mouth with his hand, and held out his handkerchief to Lucy. She just stared at it for a moment, then went back to staring at the embers. "He hurt me, you know," she announced after a long moment's silence.

Benton shifted his feet awkwardly. "I know. I wish--"

"I don't know why he hurt me," she continued as if he'd never spoken. As if he wasn't even there - he was just a mirror to talk to, not a real person at all. "I guess it was just easy. Everything was so easy for him. He was so very clever..."

"Mrs. Saxon..."

"Don't call me that."

He sighed. "What should I call you, then?"

She turned to him, then, as if noticing him for the first time, and a quizzical expression crossed her face. "I don't know. Just... not that."

"Er... right." Benton nodded.

Lucy's expression turned sour, and she faced back to the fire. "I'm not crazy, you know, and I'm not stupid. I know I'm not as smart as Harry... was, but I'm not a complete idiot."

"I know you aren't." Benton stepped toward Lucy and tried to pull her away from the remains of the pyre, but she wouldn't be moved. "Sometimes... well, these things happen, you know? They could happen to anyone. And that's why--"

"Look!"

Benton obediently followed her pointed finger to something small and round on the sand. At first he thought it was just a funny sort of rock, but Lucy knelt down, so he bent down with her for a closer look. Although it was covered in soot and ashes, it looked like a heavy metal ring. Before he could stop her, Lucy picked it up and turned it over in her manicured hand. It was Saxon's signet ring.

"He always wore this," Lucy murmured. "It's funny, I never really looked at it before. It was just... there, that's all. It's a pretty little thing, isn't it? Such odd markings..." She rubbed her thumb across the flat top, clearing the ash away to see more of the pattern. A series of silver circles looped over a background of faintly burnished metal. Not all that strange, Benton thought, but then... within each circle there were delicate lines, more circles... it was like... like the circles made by dropping a handful of stones into a pond, he thought. One into another, they grew and shrank around the face of the ring.

"Pretty," he offered, not sure what else to say.

Lucy was silent, still rubbing her thumb over the surface. "Did you ever read much history, Mister Benton?" she asked quietly.

"Only military history, I'm afraid. Why?"

"I read history of art at school," she told him. "In ancient times, in the middle ages and things like that, people used to wear things called poison rings. They were little rings, smaller than this, even, and they had poison in. Arsenic or... that other one that's in apple seeds, you know?"

"Cyanide?" he asked.

Lucy nodded. "Things like that. I remember... I read a story once about a woman in Italy who killed lots of people using poison from her ring."

"Maybe this ring is like that, then. Certainly wouldn't surprise me, with Saxon," Benton remarked, and then remembered he was talking to the man's widow. "Er... sorry."

"It does sound like something Harry would do, doesn't it?" Lucy sounded very far away, as though she wasn't really listening to her words. It was as if she was only responding to him out of habit, and was really listening to something far away and far more important. She stared at the ring, her eyes narrowed. "I wonder..."

One lacquered red fingernail carefully circled the edge of the ring, finding a lip of sorts where the circle of the raised design met the ring's body.

"I suppose it wouldn't matter much if it did," Benton continued, mostly to distract himself from the unnerving concentration in Lucy's eyes and the strange, suddenly determined set to her mouth. "It might be evidence, I suppose, but--"

"Be quiet."

Lucy Saxon's voice had never sounded so firm before. Benton felt it would be wise to follow her instructions.

She'd found the right spot. Her thumbnail slid in and Benton heard a tiny 'pop!' like the catch going off on a pocket-watch, and the top of the ring opened. For an instant he thought there was nothing inside, but then what looked like a puff of glowing golden dust raised out of the ring as if caught on a wind he didn't feel and rushed straight at Lucy.

Poison, he thought desperately. The bastard's found a way to kill her from beyond the grave, and I sat right here and let him do it! He tried to pull the ring out of her fingers, but Lucy held to it with a strength he would never have imagined that thin body possessing. She threw back her head and screamed, an unearthly noise, and the golden glow washed all over her, and then suddenly... nothing. She dropped the ring to the sand and went utterly still, her head hanging like a drooped lily.

"Mrs. Saxon? Mrs. Saxon, talk to me... We've got to get you to hospital... Mrs. Saxon?!"

"Don't... call me that name."

"Oh, thank God...." Benton almost laughed, he was so relieved. "Fine, I won't call you that. What about 'Lucy'?"

She lifted her head, and an expression of disdain and horror roiled across her face. "No. Don't ever call me by that name again, either." Her eyes were different. Less wide, less clear... there was a shadow in them, now, and so much knowledge. They looked out of the same young, beautiful face as always, but they looked... ancient...

Unexpected fear trickled down his spine. "Then... what should I call you?"

"My name is Romanadvoratrelundar." She picked up the ring and stood, then threw it hard over-hand into the ocean, and watched it disappear under the waves. Then she turned to him, and a slightly bitter smile touched her lips. "But you can call me Romana."

Chapter 8: In Captivity

"I'm not crazy," she told him, after she'd counted up her own age in the names of the stars as they drove down a country highway back to the safe-house. She'd half expected him to demand explanations right then and there on the beach, but the Human man was patient and good at following orders. He'd waited until they'd returned to the car, until they'd gotten out of the park and onto the road, until the night sky rolled above them with endless stars before he gently prodded her for an explanation. He thought that poor little Lucy Saxon had finally, well and truly lost her mind. Romana leaned her chin on her hand and angled her head to look at the stars out the car window, and began again to list off the names of each one in her mind as she found it. It made her feel whole again, repeating those names.

"I believe you."

"No, you don't. But you will." She sat back and turned to him. "John Benton," she intoned. "Your father was in service to the United Nations, and his father before him. You told me that. I'll tell you more - your father knew a Time Lord, a man named the Doctor, a man from another planet. He came to earth in a spaceship that looked like a blue police-box, and he served as the science consultant for Unit for several years of this planet's time, because he was in exile from his people. Your father even traveled with him once, if I'm not mistaking the name."

"How do you know that?"

"I know the Doctor. And I'm from his planet. Gallifrey," she added, rolling the name on her tongue for the first time in over a year. It still tasted like tears and home and everything beautiful in the universe, and she nearly cried at the feeling of it on her lips. But there was no time for that, not anymore, and the Human had to trust her. She had to be strong.

"That's impossible. You're Human - our doctors looked you over when we brought you to the safe house, don't you remember? It was just yesterday."

"I do remember, but that..." Romana sighed. How to explain this in ways a tiny Human mind could comprehend? "That ring that I opened on the beach held what makes me myself. The Master - Saxon--"

"I know he's called the Master."

"Good for you." She pursed her lips, and then continued in as calm a voice as she could manage. "He captured me, and he forced a procedure on me that turned me into a Human and erased my memories of my real self. When I opened that ring tonight, everything came back."

"That's... very interesting..."

He still thinks I'm mad. Romana sighed and grabbed one of Benton's hands off the car's steering wheel.

"Hey!"

"Quiet." Romana pressed his hand flat over her chest.

"Mrs... er..."

"Be quiet. Feel that."

"It's your heart." Benton's voice sounded like it was caught in his throat. Fine, then. Let him be a prude about her body, as long as he paid attention.

Romana pulled his hand over the other side of her sternum. "And that?"

"Is... blimey, you've got two hearts!"

"I'm a Time Lord." She let go of his hand and let him steer properly again. "We all have two hearts."

"But... why?"

"Why do you only have one?"

He was quiet for a moment, and she could tell she'd made her point effectively. "There's going to be hell to pay if you turn up all of a sudden different, you know. HQ's still doing damage control on this whole thing with the Master, but if you just disappear or something..."

"I won't. I'll stay here... I haven't any choice at the moment," she added bitterly.

"Haven't you got a Tardis?"

Romana stared at him. "How do you know that word?"

"My dad used to tell stories about the Doctor, when I was a kid," Benton explained quickly. "He really did go with him, once, you know. Just a short trip, but..."

"I see. Quite the family. No, I haven't got a Tardis. I'm stuck here."

"Just like he was, back when he met my dad and the others." Benton sounded entirely too pleased about that, and Romana realized suddenly that perhaps it would have been more expedient not to tell Unit that they had another 'pet alien' on their hands. They'd gotten quite a lot of work out of the Doctor in the old days, the way he'd told it, and even accounting for his tendency for self-aggrandisement, that left a lot of effort that she wasn't quite sure she was up to when she had her own, larger concerns to contend with.

Still, Benton was waiting to be answered, so she nodded curtly and admitted, "Something like that, yes."

He nodded, too. "So what will you do, then? Now that you're free?"

Romana leaned her head against the window and stared hard up at the sky. Out there, between those two very faint white stars, thousands of light-years away, Gallifrey should have hung like a jewel in the sky. But it was gone, and her grand plan of searching the galaxy for the remainder of its children had failed rather miserably, hadn't it? And the Guardian was out there still, too, somewhere, waiting for her to make a wrong move and reveal herself. "I don't know. I guess I'll just... wait, for a while. When the time comes, I suppose I'll know what to do."

Benton nodded as though this made perfect sense to him, and Romana tried to pretend that it sounded as good to her as he apparently thought it.

"Can I go now?" she asked on the third day, when it became clear that the various Unit officers who'd been hounding her had exhausted all the questions they could think of and were simply eyeing her with the hopes of receiving free information. The endless parade had consisted mostly of slightly paunchy old men in suits who were introduced to her as retired officers, and extremely trim young men and women in uniforms who were definitely not retired, and who reminded Romana rather amusingly of the Presidential Guard back on Gallifrey. They had the same way of looking at her as though she was both an honored guest and rather an annoying added responsibility.

"I'm afraid not, Miss." Benton, who seemed to have appointed himself her personal liaison with the Unit staff, stepped forward from the corner where he'd been conversing with a grey-haired gentleman she assumed was one of the past generation of Unit. The grey-haired gentleman nodded to both of them, then left, and a moment later Romana heard the sound of a vehicle headed down the long dirt drive away from the house. Once they were alone, Benton began again. "There's... well... it's all a bit complicated..."

"Speak up, and be direct," she snapped. Everything was easier, she'd found, if she treated him the same way she'd treated overly-polite junior senators back home.

He scratched the back of his head. "I'm afraid you're something of a liability right now, Miss. There's some concern... erm... It's not that we don't trust you...."

"It's just that you don't trust me alone." Romana sighed. "What was the point of everything I just went through, then?"

"Well, you can't exactly blame us, after what happened with the Master."

"Benton... I am the President of Gallifrey and an old friend of the Doctor--"

"Only we don't know that, Miss," he reminded her gently. "We've got your word only, and while I believe you... I'm afraid those higher up in the chain of command aren't nearly so eager to let an alien go free on Earth. Even if she claims to be our friend. Erm. Especially if, actually, after what just happened."

Romana eyed him suspiciously, and then nodded. "They think I was working with the Master."

"That's the common theory, yes. You were seen with him on numerous occasions, after all, and you always seemed quite... er... friendly."

"I see. So what am I to do, then? Stay here under armed guard for the rest of my lives, drinking tea and eating toast and watching... watching boring television?"

"Only until we can confirm your story, Miss," Benton told her. Even his eternal optimism couldn't keep that sentence from sounding slightly miserable.

"Do you have any idea how they mean to do that, Mister Benton? It's not as though you can send a letter to Gallifrey asking for them to fax back with my credentials! I don't have time for this!"

"Erm... You said yourself, Miss, you can't go anywhere right now. You don't exactly have anywhere better to go, do you?"

"Paris," she snapped. "If I'm going to be trapped on Earth, I might as well be trapped somewhere nice."

"Well, we'll see about that, then, Miss - once we've confirmed your identity."

"And again, how are you planning to do that?" Romana exclaimed, and founced back onto the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest. She knew it made her look like a small child, but she was annoyed and she couldn't understand why these people had to be so frustratingly literal about everything. She'd already left a message with Ace's 'friends,' but found out from her brief conversation with the old man who answered that their young friend only rarely stopped by the house. They would pass on her message, they told her... just as soon as Ace reappeared. From the gentleman's tone, Romana gathered that the only good bet was that this would happen sometime in the next decade or so.

"We've got a few people on their way - experts of sorts, I suppose you'd say. That's what Colonel Asher was here to tell me. They'll be by later this afternoon."

"From Unit?"

His eyes flicked away from her, down to his boots. "You could say they're from another branch of government."

"I don't like the sound of that, Benton."

"To tell you the truth, Miss, neither do I." He pulled a chair across from her and sat on it, then leaned forward and steepled his fingers, elbows on his knees. "It's Torchwood. I wish they didn't have to be involved, but once they got wind you were here I'm afraid they insisted. We didn't mean for them to know, but now they do and that's that." He let out a puff of breath, and Romana realized that he was no happier with the situation than she was. "I can't promise anything, Miss."

So that was how it would be, was it? Romana nodded slowly, then raised her chin. "And if you disagree with their methods?"

"I'm afraid there's not much I could do about that." He looked up at her, his eyes solemn. "You're technically under their jurisdiction, now."

"And that's not a good thing, I take it?"

Benton shook his head.

"Then how am I their responsibility, and how am I yours? Maybe if I understood this better we could find a way around it."

"It's hard to explain..." Benton studied his hands for a moment. "Let's have some tea, shall we, and I'll tell you what I know." He explained that Torchwood pre-dated Unit, and had as their purpose protecting England from all sorts of alien dangers. While Unit was intended primarily for intelligence, Torchwood focused on gathering alien artifacts and technology. While Unit reacted to a threat with overt military force, Torchwood worked in the shadows. They had big weaponry, but they were more likely to kill from behind, in silence.

"They fell out of power somewhat a few years ago, at the Battle of Canary Wharf," Benton explained. "Lost most of their forces to attack from Daleks and Cybermen, if you can believe it."

Romana felt as though her tea had turned to lead in her stomach. "Daleks?"

"Yes, Daleks. You know them, don't you?"

"I do. But they... there shouldn't be... They ought to be dead!"

"Well, I'd agree they ought to be." Benton took a sip of his tea, nodding thoughtfully. "Nasty things, dreadful nasty. But they're certainly still about. Thousands of them, them and the Cybermen both. Almost overran the whole world. Would have done, too, if the Doctor hadn't showed up. Torchwood had found this rift, you see..."

He kept talking, but all Romana could think of was that she'd failed. She'd gone to war to defeat the Daleks finally and utterly, for the sake of all the universe, and she'd been willing for the Time Lords to die if that was what was needed to wipe out their horrible enemy. But now the Time Lords were gone, and the Daleks lived on, continuing just as always. The whole war had been useless. The sacrifice of Gallifrey had meant meant nothing.

"Anyway, their main office was destroyed, so they've got just a few little satellite groups left, but they've still got friends in government. And since most of Unit's power is based in New York, now, there's not much we can do to fight them. Hell of a decision that was, back in the late eighties. I'd like five minutes alone with the bureaucrat who signed those papers, I don't mind telling you. Left Torchwood as Britain's main defense against alien threat, and pretty well castrated Unit, if you'll pardon the language. Politics," he added with a snort.

"Politics," Romana echoed dully.

"So you see, our hands are tied. Unit in America doesn't give a damn about the Doctor, and they're right furious about their President being killed right under their noses. Of course, most of Britain thinks the Prime Minister died with him, but Torchwood knows better since one of their top men was on the Valiant. Hence our current dilemma."

"So they know that I'm an alien, and they know that the Master was, too."

Benton nodded.

"Do they know we're the same species?"

"That I couldn't tell you. Unless they've got intelligence we don't know about, they shouldn't know much of anything about him, and I doubt they know the first thing about Time Lords. They'd never crossed paths with the Doctor before Canary Wharf, as far as Unit knows, and the ones coming here tonight aren't that Torchwood. So I figure that we'll just cooperate with them, let them figure out that you're not a threat, and then... we'll be just fine."

"What if they think I am a threat?"

"Well, you're not, are you?"

Romana stared. Benton actually seemed to think that made a difference. Oh dear. He was also still waiting for an answer. "Of course not!"

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

Even Benton didn't look particularly convinced of that, however, as they sat in the living room drinking tea and waiting for the representatives from Torchwood to arrive.

At quarter to five, a black SUV pulled up to the house, and four people stepped out. Two women and two men, none in uniforms, all wearing varying degrees of what looked to Romana, through the lens of Lucy Saxon's memories, like fashionable, somewhat casual attire. Benton let them knock before he answered the door, and grimly escorted them into the living room.

"Miss, this is Captain Jack Harkness and his team."

Romana stood and started across the room to shake the tall man's hand, but a wave of unease hit her before she'd taken two steps. This man was familiar, as well as deeply wrong.

"You were there, on the Valiant." She noticed the coat and blinked against a sudden flash of memory. "And in Cardiff, the day of the rainstorm. But... the Guardian killed you!"

"That doesn't work so well on me as you might think."

"What, strangling?"

"Killing." Harkness's smile didn't touch his eyes. "I know you from the Valiant, but you're not the same woman I saw that day in Cardiff."

"Same mind, different body."

"That can't be."

"I'm not the one who's a fixed point in time."

Harkness tilted his head, curious. "So you know that. How?"

"I can't miss it. I hope you won't take this as rude, but I'd be much obliged if you would sit on the other side of the room from me," Romana snapped. "You shouldn't exist. Any Time Lord would know that."

"So we're back to that claim."

"If your tests prove that I'm a Time Lord, does that mean we're done?"

"Afraid not." He sounded unhappy, but Harkness did move a few steps away from her, and Romana felt some of the unease pass out of the center of her mind. "See, I know the Master was a Time Lord, too. Funny thing, for a race that's supposedly almost extinct, you people do seem to be cropping up more and more."

"The Master hardly counts as one of us." Romana gritted her teeth. "He's been exiled for centuries. He was one of the worst and most abhorrent of our criminals."

"So you sent him out into the universe without anyone to watch him," one of the women commented. "Nice job of policing your own."

Romana turned to her. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Sorry about that." Harkness stepped forward again, and Romana struggled not to recoil from him as he pointed out the members of his staff. "Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper. And you still haven't given us your name."

"Romanadvoratrelundar."

Harkness frowned. "Not 'the' something?"

"No."

He waited a moment and, when Romana provided no further explanation, shrugged and carried on. "Suit yourself. All right, Romanadvoratrelundar, we're going to go through a very simple operation here. Mister Benton here has elected to remain with you, but you should be aware that this isn't his operation anymore. It's ours. You've already announced yourself as a member of an alien species on Earth without permission--"

"I'm sorry, should I have stopped off at customs on the way in?" Romana snorted.

Harkness rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored her. "--So we'll just start right in with a physical examination. Owen, you take it from here."

"Right." The slimmer, shorter dark-haired man stepped forward, unslinging a satchel of instruments from his shoulder. "If you'd just take off all your clothes--"

"Owen..." Harkness growled the name as almost, but not quite, a threat.

"What?" He looked at Harkness with an annoyed expression.

"Use the scanner."

"Right." Owen looked disappointed. "Whatever. Stand still, please, and hold out your arms. If you have any spikes, spines, electrodynamic fields, or concious controls over your otherwise-autonomic functions, please keep them deactivated." He waved a little green scanner of some kind around her body, getting perhaps a little closer than Romana would have liked, but she was determined to retain her dignity and didn't respond. After a long moment, there was a small "beep" from the scanner.

"Well?"

"Bi-cameral cardiovascular system, respiratory bypass, and a core body temperature significantly lower than the Human norm..." He reached out and plucked a hair from Romana's head and fed it into the scanner, completely ignoring the furious look Romana shot him. "And her DNA's a close look-alike to that pet hand you had. I'd say the odds are good she's exactly what she says she is, as far as being a Time Lord."

Harkness nodded sharply. "Good. That simplifies things a bit. Nice to get an easy case from time to time. Now for the rest. According to Unit," he nodded to Benton, "you claim that you were acting under some kind of mind control while you were working with the Master. Is that correct?"

"I wasn't working with him, and my memories weren't my own. If you'd scanned me at that time, you would have seen that I was as Human as... well, as any one of them," Romana said pointedly. Harkness, as far as she was concerned, was not Human in the least. "The Master rewrote my DNA and memories using a chameleon arch."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I was helpless, and he likes having helpless people around him. It makes him feel powerful, I expect. It's possible that he knew I used to travel with the Doctor, and that if he set up shop on Earth he would be bound to see the Doctor again sooner or later. I imagine he thought it was quite funny to hide me in plain sight right in front of the Doctor, knowing that if I was Human and in a new body there was no way he'd recognize me."

"So that's why you don't look the same as you did in Cardiff?"

"I regenerated after the battle you stepped into. He found me while I was weak."

Harkness nodded slowly. "Okay... The man who attacked you that day, the guy in the tan suit--"

"It wasn't tan," Romana interrupted. She recognized a test here. "It was white, and he carried a white umbrella."

"Right. That's right." Harkness nodded again, more decisively this time. "Who's he in all this?"

"That was the Guardian. He's an old enemy of mine - he must have tracked me here, and waited until I was alone."

"And then he tried to kill you. In the middle of Cardiff, with a storm that blew out the power in half the city."

Romana, who had been unaware that the power surge she'd felt had been that strong, was rather impressed. But it wouldn't do to let Harkness and his team know that, of course. "Apparently."

"See, that's where I get a little nervous about having you around here." Harkness stuck his hands in his pockets and paced a small circle in the middle of the living room. "You seem to be a magnet for trouble. And that's something this planet already has plenty of without you. Now, I recognize you might very well not be the cause of any of that trouble--"

"Might?" Romana repeated indignantly.

"But see, it's not my job to protect aliens. It's my job to protect Earth. Human life, that's my concern. You're just another trouble-making alien in my jurisdiction as far as I'm concerned."

"That's not--"

"Not what? Fair?" Harkness gave a bark of laughter. "No, it isn't. And I'm real sorry for that, I am. But after the year I had at the hands of one of your people, you'll have to forgive me for not feeling very sympathetic. For now... I'm going to have to ask you back to our center for questioning."

"That wasn't part of the agreement!"

Bless Benton, Romana thought as he stepped between them, he really was endearingly loyal in his odd ways. Unfortunately, she doubted he'd be of much use in this situation.

Harkness seemed to think much the same. "Sorry, pal, but she's officially an unknown and potentially dangerous alien on British soil. That means she's ours. You can appeal if you want, but after the mess your people made of the Saxon operation..."

Benton's jaw clenched, but he held his ground in front of Romana. "You're not taking her."

The longer-haired of the two Torchwood women stepped foward and touched Benton's arm in an almost friendly manner. "We can have you arrested for obstruction if you forcibly prevent us," she told him calmly, her voice soft but authoritative. "She'll be safe with us, I promise."

"You won't hurt her," Benton stated.

"Not unless it's necessary," Harkness replied casually.

"No, I won't--"

Romana rolled her eyes and sighed, then stepped around Benton to face Harkness. She only wished she didn't have to get quite so close to him to do it - the little sitting room was entirely too small to share with someone as anomalous as Jack Harkness. "Stop it, both of you. What happens if I go with Torchwood?"

"You'll be held at our facility until we determine that you're safe to be released. We'll keep an eye out for the Doctor - if he can confirm your identity, or if some other evidence turns up, you're home free."

Despite the unfamiliar turn of phrase, Romana nodded. "And if not?"

Harkness' face darknened. "Then you're not."

"Jack..." The same woman as before - Gwen, he'd called her - crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a solemn look. "If she is who she says she is, she deserves at least to know our procedures."

"Fine." Jack turned back to Romana. "We won't hurt you unless you're an active threat. We'll just freeze you. We've got storage facilities to keep you exactly as you are today... forever, if we need to. You won't get older. You won't even get bored."

"But I'd be frozen. And completely helpless if anything happens to your facility."

"Well, yeah. But trust me, if there's something big enough to destroy the hub, we've got bigger worries than being responsible for the death of some woman who claims she was the president of Gallifrey, okay? If planet Earth is safe, you're safe. Anyway, for now, we're just going to take you back to the hub for more questioning, run a few more tests. After that, we'll see what happens."

"You haven't really got any choice," Gwen said softly. "Might as well come along without trouble."

"I'm sure that's very easy for you to say," Romana remarked. But the woman was right. "Let me get my coat."

She'd lost all of her old things - the Master had probably destoyed them - so the coat Benton pulled out of the closet was one of what she couldn't help thinking of as Lucy Saxon's. It fitted her well, though, and had probably been quite expensive - lovely, soft white wool and cashmere mix lined with pale pink satin. Benton held it up for her to slip into... and when she had finished, his hands settled firmly on her shoulders. "I'm coming with you."

Harkness shook his head. "No. No escort. She's out of your jurisdiction now. Unit doesn't have the right to barge into our affairs."

"I didn't say I was coming as a Unit officer. I'm coming as her friend. She hasn't got anybody else on this planet, and I'm not sending her into your place alone." His fingers tightened. "I've heard stories about you people. Bodies in those freezers, raising the dead just to pester them with a few questions... I'm not letting you alone with her."

Harkness turned to Romana with a wry smile. "Do all Time Lords inspire loyalty like this, or is just the ones that come to Earth? Okay, in the interests of not dragging this out when we've got a four hour drive back to Cardiff, let's say your little bodyguard can come with us. But he's gotta drive on his own. We've only got room for five. Let's move."

Benton didn't look pleased, but he nodded and went for his jacket and car-keys. Jack held open the door for Romana and escorted her to the car, his hand a firm reminder on the small of her back. Graciously as he smiled when he opened the door and handed her up into the seat, she was still a prisoner. Still, there was a benefit - she remembered that she'd originally been in Cardiff chasing a faint Tardis signal. If Torchwood was really the collectors of alien technology that Benton had described them as, it was likely the signal had come from their facility. And if there was a working Tardis, or even a fragment of one, then this wouldn't be an entirely useless excursion... as long as she could get back out again.

The drive was miserable. Romana was unused to transportation that was both so slow and so cramped, not to mention so... contentious. The Torchwood staff bickered almost constantly - over the radio station, over which roads to take, over where to stop for lunch... She'd been seated in the back, between Gwen and Toshiko, and so was at least exempt from the worst of the sniping, which consisted of the two men debating over the relative merits of various styles of music. They stopped for burgers and bought her one, which she considered not eating just to make a point. In the end, she was too hungry not to. She felt queasy after, and even more irritable as a consequence.

It was dark by the time they reached Cardiff, and by that time Romana was cramped and exhausted. She stretched and shifted as they led her through a dark tunnel, through a door that looke and then out into a space filled with computers, although it looked as though it had once been part of the city's sewer system. Above her head, something screamed. Romana craned her head and caught side of a huge winged shape wheeling high above them between the tiled walls.

"Don't mind her."

Romana turned toward Harkness, her eyes still on the beast above them. It bore some resemblance to some of the more interesting scecies that made their lives in the vortex. "Another of your 'guests?'" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"You might say that. She's a native of Earth, just... not this time period." He held out a hand to indicate the way through the scattered work stations. "Through here."

"Alien technology, asynchronous life forms... and what's this?" Before Harkness could stop her, Romana picked up a small, coral-like structure from a desk and held it up. The thing pulsed faintly blue-green at her touch, a shimmer of gold light flickering at its core. Exactly what she'd been looking for.

"It's never done that before..." Tosh stared, fascinated.

"It's never been handled by a Time Lord before." Romana pursed her lips and glared up at Harkness. "This is a piece of a Tardis," she accused. "A living piece of a sentient spaceship, and you shouldn't have it! Where did you get it? Another thing that just happened to fall through your rift? Another helpless passer-by that you kidnapped?"

"It wasn't like that. I just... it was just a cutting. A shard, from a full-grown Tardis."

Romana snorted. "What full-grown Tardis could you possibly have had access... Ah." Images flashed through her mind - memories from her time as Lucy, only half-understood by that weak little mind, but perfectly sensible filtered through her own knowledge. "The Doctor. You and he were friends, weren't you? You must have traveled with him for a time. And while you were doing that, you stole a part of his Tardis."

Harkness' jaw clenched, but he didn't argue.

"It's too young to be of any use to you, but... but you wouldn't care about that, would you? You've got all of time to wait for it to grow. You..." Romana shook her head, swallowing disgust and horror at the thought of this delicate new life growing without the touch of a single other mind that understood it. "Even then, even if you waited until the end of the universe, it would never do you any good. Tardises aren't machines - they're telepathic, you fool. Even forgetting that you'd need a Time Lord to activate the Rassilon Imprimatur and teach it to accept a pilot, you're raising it without contact with another Tardis. Its mind will be broken, feral - like a child whose never been spoken to or touched."

"I..." Harkness' jaw tightened again, and he dropped his eyes like a chastened school-boy. "I didn't think--"

"That much," Romana interrupted in a low voice, "I can easily believe."

"I didn't mean--"

"You stole this fragment. You kidnapped it - broke it off from the whole, and made a new creature of it. Congratulations, Mister Harkness - you created life and stole away all its potential in one single, reckless motion. And you probably didn't even think what you'd do with the thing, did you? Except perhaps to use it. I'm betting that's how all these beings and technology that you have exist - ripped away from their context, they just wait here, until you have a use for them. This isn't an office - it's a graveyard." She smiled bitterly up at him. "Well, you have me, too, now. Let's drop the pretense of the grand tour, and you can lead me to my tomb." As she spoke, she tucked the Tardis fragment into the inside pocket of her jacket.

"That's not yours."

Romana raised an eyebrow and gave him a challenging look. "It's not yours, either. In any case, as I said - a Tardis needs a Time Lord to activate its circuits. You won't get any use out of it without letting me carry it for a while, and after all..." She smiled sweetly, "It's not as though I'm going anywhere. Is it?"

Harkness frowned, and then held his hand out. "Give it back for now. I'll have Owen and Tosh run some tests. If they back up what you've said, I'll return it to your care until its real owner shows up to reclaim it."

Romana frowned, but handed the Tardis fragment back to him - there was no point in a struggle when she was unarmed and he surrounded by weapons. In any event, it had been worth a try. She followed him to her cell without complaint, and pretended not to notice the fang-faced, growling alien in the next compartment. A few moments later a sweet-faced young man in a designer suit arrived, carrying a blanket and a cushion. Behind him walked Benton, wearing a decidedly irritable expression.

"Is this your man?" the new fellow asked politely.

"He's a friend of mine," Romana answered. Some Humans took ill to being spoken of as property, she recalled.

"I found him when I went upstairs to close up the front office. Said he wanted to be taken to wherever you were being held, so..." The young man gestured. "Here we are, then. Bit odd locking up a Unit officer with a suspected alien, but if that's your choice..."

"She shouldn't be locked up, either," Benton growled. "No bed, no facilities... and a Weevil in the next cell?"

"You'll find there's a hole in the back that goes straight to the sewage system," the newcomer replied crisply, "and as for Janet, I don't think she'll give you any trouble. And there's a cot in the back as well. I don't think it'll fit two, but we've never tried..."

"It won't be fitting two," Romana and Benton announced at the same time.

"Suit yourselves." The young man slid back the door long enough to allow Benton in, then closed it again and waved cheerfully. "Sleep tight. I'll be back in the morning with breakfast."

"Four star service, this place," Benton remarked once their well-dressed jailer had disappeared. "Sorry it took so long for me to get down here... I couldn't see where their car went in, so I ended up waiting at the main entrance for someone to notice me. Any progress convincing them of your identity?"

"None at all." Romana sat down on the creaky cot and glared at her hands. Lucy Saxon's high-priced manicure had been chipped all over in the three days since she'd got her memory back. She wished the damned things would just grow out so she wouldn't have to look at them anymore. "I think they want to let me stew overnight, to think over my options."

"What will you do, then?"

"I can't prove anything. Barring the Doctor showing up randomly, or Ace getting my message, I'm afraid I've no credentials."

"Well, once she's here..."

"Then we have another problem," Romana admitted. "She's never seen me in this body. I might be able to convince her of who I am, but it won't be easy, and I'm not sure Torchwood will accept it."

"So we're no better off."

"You shouldn't have come with me."

"I've slept in worse hotels," Benton quipped, and then turned sober again. "We'll get you out of here somehow. Until then... I'll, er... just sleep on the floor, here." He scooted up against the wall and spread out one of the two blankets the Torchwood man had brought with him. "You just get some rest."

Romana didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't need sleep just then. If she said as much she was sure he'd insist on staying awake as well, to keep her company. So she just nodded and curled her legs up onto the cot, wrapped the blanket around her and rested her head on the cushion, and settled in to think with her eyes closed. As Benton's breathing had slowed to the steady, low rhythm of deep sleep, she started in on the one method she'd found so far to keep unpleasant memories out of her mind: she recited the code of Rassilon in her mind. When that was done, she started on the Tardis operator's manual. She'd hardly begun section 12-beta, however, when movement outside the cell caught her attention. Harkness had returned, and he didn't look pleased.

"You'd better come out here. We have a problem."

"It started about ten minutes ago," Tosh explained. "See this spike on the energy read-out? We monitor the rift and the surrounding systems at all times, but I've never seen a flash this comprehensive. It's centered in the rift, but that's not all that's going wild."

"Is that spectrum gamma radiation?" Romana pointed to a particularly high red spike at the center of the diagram.

Tosh looked pleased and nodded. "And this is UV. Tachyons, too," she continued, indicating another spike. "All too high to be normal, and all associated with an unusual surge in rift behavior over the last ten minutes. Do you recognize any of it?"

Romana nodded. "I'm not certain, but I think I know what's causing it."

"What?"

"The same fellow who was present the day you and I met, Mr. Harkness. I thought it might take him longer to notice my genetic signature after the year that it was hidden, but it seems the Guardian has found me."

Above their heads, the lights flickered.

"Electro-magnetic pulse!" Tosh shouted, pulling another viewscreen close so she could watch its progress. "It's a bad one, Jack - power outages are starting to spot across the city."

"And how much do you want to bet it's raining outside?" Harkness shook his head. "All right... let's go up top and see what we're facing. Gwen, Owen, you're with me. Tosh, Ianto do what you can to protect our systems, and then make sure we have a recent back-up of all important files. Generator priority goes to security and holding systems - we don't want anything nasty getting loose if there's an outage here."

"I'm coming with you," Romana snapped.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. For one thing, you're the only person here who knows the first thing about this guy. I suppose that means your shadow's coming, too?" Harkness jerked his chin toward Benton, who Romana had momentarily forgotten in the rush. She made a quick mental calculation, balancing potential danger to him and his potential to get in her way against the possibility that he might be useful, either against the Guardian, or by distracting the Torchwood team long enough for her to defeat the Guardian without their interference and effect an escape. It wasn't likely, but without so much as a sonic screwdriver to her hand, Romana felt she needed any possible advantage she could get hold of.

"You have your people," she informed Harkness. "I don't see why I shouldn't bring mine."

If Benton was at all disturbed by being referred to as "her people," he didn't comment. Romana thought she recognized the set to his jaw as moved to proceed her out of Torchwood's command center - it was an expression she'd seen on innumerable Gallifreyan soldiers as they paraded out toward the Tardis bays, destined for battle with endless fleets of Dalek cruisers. She hadn't thought to ever see again, and she didn't like the idea of this pleasantly simple, loyal little Human marching to death, least of all on her command.

Not again, she thought with a biting grimness that surprised even her. Not again, not here. Whatever the Guardian made happen on Gallifrey, whatever he might have had to do with that, it's not happening here. Whatever this is, I'll end it here and now.

She followed Harkness up the steps, ready to fight in whatever way possible. The first thing she noticed as they stepped off the elevator was that Harkness had been wrong about the rain. The stars shone brightly in the darkness - too bright, Romana realized. The lights of Cardiff city had all been dimmed somehow, as though the Guardian thought they gave the wrong ambience to his performance as he strolled out of the shadows, clad once again in the heavy black of his dark guise, his edges once again flickering with the energy of his two-faced nature, white touching the lines of his image too quickly for the eye to entirely discern.

"What the hell..." Harkness began.

Romana stepped in front of him. "Just stay back. This is my affair, and I don't want any of you getting hurt because of it."

"That's--"

"Wasn't that what you said, that you were afraid I'd cause harm to your city? So stay back. Protect your own, Jack Harkness, and let me handle myself. It's better than being stuffed in your freezers for a few centuries, at least." A touch melodramatic, she thought to herself, but at least it might keep Harkness from trying to 'help' in some damningly unfortunate way.

He thought for a moment, and then nodded sharply and gestured for Owen and Gwen to stay back. "Keep an eye out for civilians," she heard him order. "Keep them out of... whatever this is going to be."

There wouldn't be any civilians, Romana thought with a chill as she looked around the empty square. The lights weren't just dimmed, they were... dampened, as though the very fabric of space and time that light moved through had been slowed, or blocked somehow, around the area where they stood. As the Guardian stepped closer, she could feel time itself slipping away from him, like a magnet pushed against another of the same charge. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.

The Guardian stopped mere feet away from her, hands empty at his sides.

"Madame President," he intoned, amusement quirking his lips. "Or shall I call you Prime Minister, now? You disposed of your upstart husband easily enough, didn't you? You might take his place."

"I don't want anything that used to be his."

The Guardian shrugged. "Then make it your own again. You surprised me, you know. I could feel the paradox here rewriting itself from a galaxy away, and then - pop! - there was your bright little life signature bursting back into light again. I'd thought I'd lost you. In deference to the clever way you managed to evade me for so long, I'll give you this one last chance. You could rebuild Earth in Gallifrey's image, if you took the power I can offer. Start again, and make sure the same mistakes aren't made again." He spread his hands. "You could have it all back, everything I've taken from you. All you have to do is give yourself over to me, and we will make a new Gallifrey out of this rock, with your people standing strong again. These people are so simple. They wouldn't even feel it happening around them."

Stillness hit Romana's back like a physical force - time stopping in an instant, between breaths and hearbeats caught and held, and she didn't have to turn around to know what she would see. Harkness, Owen, Gwen, and hapless, kind-hearted Benton were all frozen in the amber of the Guardian's influence, caught with the rest of Cardiff. Maybe even the rest of planet Earth - there was no way to know for sure, not then, not without instruments.

"Well?"

"You've stopped them."

"Good girl. They won't feel a thing, if you agree. Just say the word, and it all begins - anything you can dream. Gallifrey reborn, yourself as its guardian goddess..."

The thought... was not lacking in temptation. Gallifrey was her responsibility - what did she owe this little world other than a year of torment and frustration? Surely the universe was suffering without the Time Lords to protect it... surely she would be choosing the greater good by bringing them back, and at such a comparatively small cost...

"And the Doctor, he can rule by your side, perhaps?" the Guardian continued, his voice as sweet as poison in her ear. "I can give you so much power that he would never tire of you, never want to wander..."

The Doctor? No, that pushed the image too far. Romana shook at the heaviness that had been weighing down on her mind - the Guardian's power, she realized, pressing her down into a dream. The Doctor wouldn't be content on that perfect Gallifrey anymore than he'd ever been on the real one... and neither would she. And even if they could be happy in that phantasm of their home, no one planet could be paid in ransom for another. Not even for Gallifrey.

"Is that the promise you made to the high council, during the war?" Romana asked.

The Guardian smiled and reached out as if to pat her on the head, and Romana stepped back just in time to keep him from touching her. Then he lashed out again, and this time she ducked just a bit too late, took the brunt of the blow on her cheekbone, heard a sickening crunch as an open hand that shouldn't have been nearly so hard jarred her teeth together. Already it burned and she could feel the swelling begin, and that was so familiar now. The taunting smile, the easy way he caught her left wrist when she tried to block his next blow, all of it was so very familiar. Something of Lucy Saxon's numbness fell over her then, as she remembered keeping a blank face to everything, everything the Master had done to her. Presenting a blank mind that he couldn't touch, nothing he could predict or anticipate.

"I won't make their mistake," Romana said calmly, through a tongue that was thickening with blood. "Go. Away."

"What?" The Guardian laughed. "Just that - just 'go away?' My dear, you really have spent too much time among these savages if you really think--"

"Go away," she repeated, "and leave this planet alone. Come to think of it, leave all planets alone."

He swatted at her again, a casual but heavy blow. Toying with her, like an overfed vortisaur with its prey. "And if I don't? If I won't make this promise of yours, what then?" He played confident, but there was a hint of doubt in his demeanor. He didn't know how to take her, didn't know how she'd spent that year that she'd been off his radar. She'd put up a mask he didn't know - the mask of the woman cowed and beaten so many times that she didn't feel anymore, didn't care what happened to her as long as it ended. As long as she got to finally make her one, single, simple statement.

Again.

"Do you know, I thought it would be much more difficult to bring down a civilization as supposedly ancient and wise as the Time Lords," the Guardian told her. "I thought I might have to put in a bit of effort. But those senators scrambled like ants on a piece of meat once I gave them the right impetus, and it was so dreadfully easy to play them against each other, just as I'd played them against you. A few words whispered in the right ears, and Gallifrey's great high council topped to the ground, and the planet with it."

No emotion crossed Romana's face as she slipped her hand from her pocket, revealing the shiny, almost arthropedal beauty of the handgun she'd stolen from Harkness' pocket. Unit didn't use firearms, not on civil cases, but Torchwood... oh, Torchwood was always armed, and as cautious as Harkness had been of her, he hadn't expected her to stoop to pickpocketing him as they walked up to meet their mutual enemy. He must, she thought somewhat dully, really have believed her on some level. Maybe that came of knowing the Doctor. Maybe he'd felt the similarity between them.

Maybe, secretly, he just hadn't wanted to believe that she was capable of something so violently stupid as stealing a firearm and shooting a metaphysical, universal power straight into the half-imagined construct of his chest. What kind of fool, after all, would imagine that a gunshot would do any good against someone like the Guardian?

"It's a pity," the Guardian continued, "that you weren't there to see when your precious Doctor set fire to Gallifrey and your entire fleet. But don't worry - I've saved just a little of that fire for you." He lifted his arms and gestured, pushing forward a wave of heat and flame on the tips of his fingers. Romana fell to the ground to avoid it, and then rolled onto her back, aiming. His blackness stood out like a hole in the brilliant tapestry of stars.

She fired, and the blackness exploded between them.

She remembered shooting the Master - she'd felt empty inside as she did it. The emptiness had been with her now, too, but it all ripped away with the sound of the gunshots, and the sight of white blood seeping from the holes in the Guardian's black, black suit. The lights of Cardiff flickered once, and then flared. Behind her, she heard shouting, and then felt someone grab her arms, someone else pulling the gun out of her hands. All the emotion that she had struggled to restrain, all the fear and frustration and anger, rushed out of her, and she laughed. I must be hysterical, she thought, as Benton - it had to be Benton, he was the only one so stupidly brave - hugged her to his chest, patting her hair helplessly as the other shouted orders into their headsets. She had to be hysterical. Had to have lost her mind, to think of shooting the Guardian with something as pathetic as a gun, but it had worked. Of all the idiotic things, it had worked. Again.

"I hate to say it, Miss, but this is getting to be something of a habit with you," Benton murmured. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

By the time the laughter burned off, Torchwood had already removed the body to their labs for examination. After a quiet passage of time (normal time, Romana noted with relief, no longer twisted by the Guardian's influence), Gwen returned, sober and solemn.

"Jack, er... he's sorry he doubted you, I think," she said. "We all are, a bit. You understand..."

"Better than you'd think," Romana agreed.

"Owen'll have a look at that cheek. You might have to have something set..."

"Time Lords are hardy. Anyway, I'd rather not go back down there."

"There's no need for the cells, after what we saw back there. You'd be a guest."

Romana shook her head. "I'm done here. I'm ready to leave."

Gwen smiled softly. "Jack thought you might say that. So he said to give you this." She held out a small green crystal in the cupped palm of her hand, glowing in the darkness of the night. The Tardis fragment pulsed brighter as Romana took it from her.

"It won't ever be a normal Tardis," she told Gwen. "He ruined it, breaking it off and taking it away from its kind. It won't ever be what it should have been."

"I think that's why he sent me with it, rather than coming himself." Gwen pressed her lips together softly, and then tucked her hands back into the pockets of her long black coat. "He's a good man, he didn't mean any harm to it. And... even if it won't ever be what it should have been, it might be something else worthwhile."

Romana nestled the fragment gently into the inside pocket of her coat, close to her hearts. She could feel the fragment start to mimic their beats. "It might," she agreed, and then turned away without another goodbye.

"I parked my car at the tourist office, over this way," Benton offered.

Romana thought this over for a moment, and weighed the possibilities. A six-hour ride back to Scotland, a night comfortable and safe in the cottage, breakfast and tea ready and waiting when she awoke, and a lifetime of boring service, helping Unit to deal with all the alien crises that came their way, managing all their scientific intrigues as the Doctor had before her. Or... what? The universe lay out in front of her like an endlessly unfolding map, and she was bound here, limited to this one planet. This one time. Already she could feel the weight of it settling across her shoulders. Benton watched her with patient, hopeful eyes.

Well... one more safe night in the cottage wouldn't hurt anything, would it? Whatever they did, it'd be well-past morning when they arrived back, and no one could possibly expect her to do anything responsible until she'd had what Humans considered a decent night's sleep after that, could they?

"All right," she finally gave in. "But I'm not planning to stay long."

Benton grinned, and held her hand while they walked back to the car, and Romana wondered a little less than before why the Doctor had always been so fond of the company of Humans. Somehow, their infectious enthusiasm made things seem just that little bit less tiresome.

Chapter 9 - The Universe Goes On

Time is relative, and no one understands this better than a Time Lord.

Relatively speaking, months passed.

Torchwood dropped their claim on her, as Gwen had promised they would, and on their authority Unit gave up keeping her as a potential hostile. A formal letter of apology, signed by Brigadier Winifred Bambera, appeared at the Scotland safe-house on the same day that Romana packed up her few belongings and loaded them into Benton's government-issued car to be driven to the airport. She'd had enough of England to last her all the rest of her lifetimes, she'd decided, and if she was going to be stuck on a primative world, she wasn't going to be stuck in one country of it.

With the diplomatic passport provided by Unit and the bank accounts left in her name by the Master's trickery, she leased a small flat in Paris. Centuries had passed by her accounting, but Paris had only seen a paltry few decades since she and the Doctor had run through the streets chasing art thieves and laughing with the joy of new love. Within a month, Romana decided she'd had enough of Paris, too, and the ghosts that haunted it, and moved again, to a little island in the Mediterranean. There, the sun tanned Lucy's - no her pale skin, and bleached her hair whiter than ever. She wasn't so sure about the aesthetic of it all, but at least it made her visibly different from the woman who'd been the Master's petted slave. The island was small and somewhat isolated, but accustomed to playing host to expatriates and their strange habits, and no one thought anything more of her than any of the others. At least not for a few weeks.

"You're hard to find."

Romana lifted her head into the bright sunlight, then pushed back dark sunglasses and set aside her book. Sarah Jane Smith stood at the gate to her garden, leaning on the greyed wood of the fence.

"Did it ever occur to you that might mean I don't want to be found?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Not enough that it mattered, anyway." Romana couldn't help smiling. "Sit down, then. If you're going to come all the way out here just to harrass me, I suppose I might as well listen. I hope you don't mind coffee instead of tea."

After the first shock, she found she didn't mind nearly as much as she made out having Sarah Jane there. She'd heard about the year of the Master's ascendence from Unit, it turned out, and about the battle with the Guardian that solved the question of Romana's identity, and had come to ask her own questions about Gallifrey and the Time Lords, and all that they'd been in the universe.

"You know you'll never get this published," Romana admonished after meandering through a bit of obscure Gallifreyan political theory, during which Sarah Jane's pencil was never still, and her digital recorder whirred softly under the sound of the breeze.

"No, but that's not the point, is it? You're one of the last. If you die, if... if the Doctor dies, all of it will be lost." Sarah held up the recorder. "But not if I take it all down."

It didn't seem like much of a difference to Romana. The island was littered with the fragments of times gone by - distant by Human standards, barely a blink in the eye of a Time Lord. But by the same token, it couldn't do any harm, could it? So she talked. She told Sarah Jane Smith about Gallifrey and its laws and legends, about the people she'd known there, and the way they'd lived. And as the sun set, she described a binary system, two stars falling below the horizon moments after each other, casting a nearly endless prism of color on the silvered mountains. She remembered watching the stars slip out one by one through the darkness under the arching protection of the citadel's dome, and for just an instant the olive trees looked silver in the moonlight, and she felt like she might be at home.

"I won't stay here much longer," she told her guest calmly.

"I see." Sarah squinted at her, and Romana had the uncomfortable feeling that the Human woman did indeed see far more than Romana would have liked her to. She turned off her recorder, and stood up. "Well, thank you. I have a hotel to be getting back to, and a flight back to England in the morning, but... if you ever want to talk again. If you have... time," she smiled, "then you know where to find me."

Romana nodded and stared into the distance. She heard the garden gate latch behind Sarah, but she stayed out long into the night, watching the stars and listening to the breeze in the olive branches.

There were other stops along the way, other flats and hotels and short stays, but eventually she ended up back in England, of course, and her steps led her almost unconsciously back to Cambridge. But when she walked through the labyrinth of offices back to the same old door, the brass name-plate was gone, and no light was visible inside.

"You looking for Professor Chronotis?" a young man asked her as he walked past with a box full of papers and folders.

"Yes - is he on holiday?" Romana asked cautiously.

The young man shook his head. "Sorry to say, but he's passed away. Happened last spring, just after the mess with the Prime Minister and the American president getting killed. Poor old fellow. Were you a student of his?"

"Not exactly. I worked with him a bit, though. After I graduated," she added. It was technically true, and close enough to the real truth. "He was a brave and clever man."

"That he was. The university'll miss him - they haven't yet found somebody who can take his place."

"No..." Romana touched the door, where the nameplate's absence left a square of lighter, unvarnished wood in its shadow. "No, they won't."

"Sorry, again." The young man shifted his load awkwardly. "I've got to run - seminar in five minutes. Have a good day!"

So Cambridge went on without Chronotis, Romana thought, the same as the universe going on without the Time Lords. It was just another death to them. Just another old relic passing on, leaving room for... what? The future? She shook her head. Linearity had never been a pleasing outlook, to her mind.

She thought of taking the train back south, to the house Ace sometimes stayed at, but one more missing friend would have been too much for her that day, she thought. She called, instead, and let them know that she was all right, and to forget about the message. Better to let Ace go on her way, and not burden her with the tired recriminations of a Time Lord who felt that the universe was spinning away without her. She walked down to the river instead, and sat on the bank. A crew team rowed past, and Romana smiled. On this very river, so few relative years ago, she'd let the Doctor coax her into an appalling little flat-bottomed boat. He'd taken so much pride in poling them down the sluggish waterway, talking all the time about how much he loved these primative people and their simple ways. And against her will, she'd loved it. She'd loved him, and of course he'd known it, the arrogant old fool.

Romana picked up a small, round stone from the bank and lobbed it off into the greenish waters.

"Forget it," she told herself. "Just forget it all. There's no point in letting the past rule me. Gallifrey is gone, and I can't bring it back. Defeating the Guardian didn't change that, and neither will spending all my time thinking about what's gone. It's time to move on."

This time the words sounded right. Rather than sounding petty or petulant, they sounded... confident. Purposeful. She smiled. Yes. That was what she was. That was what she'd always been, and what she would be again. Her new incarnation had been created by another mind and baptized in madness, pain and blood, but she'd make it her own nonetheless. She'd had her rest. Now it was time to do something useful again.

She pulled a small mobile phone out of her pocket - a last, insistent present from Benton the day he'd dropped her off at the airport, just in case she got into trouble or needed something. After all that she'd stood by and watched as Lucy Saxon, she felt she owed Earth at least a few years of her time to work for its betterment.

"Benton? It's Romana." She smiled. "What do you suppose Unit would say to having another Time Lord as their scientific consultant? I got very good marks in quantum mechanics..."

Epilogue: Renewed Acquaintance

Martha's mobile rang in the Doctor's pocket while he was out visiting an old friend in the Beta Centauri cluster.

"If it's the Slitheen again, I'm going to have to have a chat with the high parliament of Raxicoricofallipatorius," he remarked as he flipped the phone on. "It's not the Slitheen again, is it?"

"No Slitheen." Martha replied. She sounded... shaken.

The Doctor sobered. "Daleks?"

"Not them, either. Just come back, okay? 2009, same as you left me."

"What's going on there? Martha--"

"It's a long story, all right? Just come. And hurry."

He'd set the mobile to trace the location of all calls automatically, so it was a simple matter to set the Tardis' coordinates down to the kilometer. Still, something seemed familiar about the coordinates. Something from ages ago, something...

"Unit headquarters."

Martha smiled at him as he stepped out of the Tardis. Beside her, a much-aged Bambera crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"Not much of a welcome..." the Doctor mumbled. "You causing trouble already, Martha?"

"That depends on your definition of trouble." Bambera cast a sideways look at Martha, who didn't so much as flinch. The Doctor felt absurdly proud of her. "Your young friend here, Doctor, has been casting certain aspersions on the identity of our scientific advisor."

"Scientific... You've replaced me?"

Bambera's frown deepened. "You've been gone for nearly three decades."

"Well, still--"

"She says she's a Time Lord, Doctor," Martha broke in.

"Who does?"

Martha pursed her lips, and then let out of a puff of breath. "Lucy Saxon. The woman the Master had with him, remember? The one--"

The Doctor waved off her explanations. "I remember her." Of course he did - how could he have forgotten? "But she was Human. You lot can't possibly have gotten so stupid that you'll believe any idiot who walks in and claims to be an alien. Haven't you tested her?"

"Doctor Sullivan himself tested her, back when she first appeared. I sent for him specifically, since he's the only one of our medical officers who's personally examined you. Before Doctor Jones joined up, that is, of course," Bambera added smoothly, just as Martha parted her lips to protest. "He was corroborated by Torchwood's medical officer. Both of them agree: whatever she was at the time of the Saxon administration, Lucy Saxon is certainly a Time Lord now, by all the means we have at our disposal to judge."

"But that's absurd, that's impossible, that's--"

"Improbable, Doctor. Not impossible."

The Doctor turned. The woman standing in the doorway was undeniably Lucy Saxon - the same blonde hair, wide eyes, and delicate bone structure, but the quirk to her lips now was entirely different from the hesitant, slightly desperate smile he'd seen Lucy wear during the few moments the Master had bothered to draw forth pleasure from her. "I always have liked a strong statement," he offered, watching her for a sign. What could it be, what could it be...

Lucy crossed the room slowly, deliberately - trying not to startle him, he realized, or maybe trying not to startle herself. She was wearing flat shoes, now, he noticed, and they made her look shorter than he remembered, but also more stable, more confident than the tottery little steps she'd taken in stiletto-heels on the Valiant. She reached out toward him, and it was all he could do not to recoil at the memories that seeing her brought back.

"Take my hand."

"What's going on here, Lucy?" the Doctor asked cautiously. "What are you trying?"

She shook her head. "Just take it. I'll explain later, if you have any questions, but take it, now. You won't believe me any other way."

He glanced sideways at Bambera, who remained stoic and gave no sign of whether she approved or disapproved of this happening in her office, then at Martha, who shrugged but continued to watch suspiciously. He had to admit to curiosity, whatever this was. He stretched over the space between them and took her hand.

His first thought was that her skin was too cold to be healthy, but a rush of energy pushed that away an instant later as a telepathic connection opened between them. Synapses fired, a flash-flood of memories flared, and pure awareness rushed to the front of his mind before he could stop it or make sense of it all.

"Romana?"

She smiled. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I couldn't explain it until you were here," Romana admitted later, after the Humans had both gone home and left the two Time Lords the only waking people in the old house that still served as Unit's primary base of operations in the north. "They would never have believed me."

"I wouldn't have believed it if you hadn't let the memories back out. Which is not to say I'm conceding that you did the right thing, by the way," he added sharply. "You took a lot of risks."

"For not a lot of gain, I know." Romana shook her head. "But I had to, you know. I had to see for myself, and be sure that it was all really gone. And I did find them; Chronotis and the Master, both. Though I suppose you'd properly say the Master found me. And I found this." She held out the Tardis fragment.

"What... where did you find that?"

"Your friend Jack is a bit of a souvenir-hunter, it seems."

The Doctor sighed. "Why does that somehow not surprise me?"

"Because he's a friend of yours? Obviously he has to be rebellious, disreputable, careless of consequences..."

"Are you through insulting yourself?"

Romana grinned. "I wasn't sure I fit into that category anymore."

"Of course you do. Always." He touched her cheek. "Romana, I... If I'd known. If I'd known it was you in there--"

"You wouldn't have done anything different. You couldn't have - I wasn't myself." She looked down at her hands, examining her fingernails, plain and only lightly buffed now that Lucy's manicure had finally grown out completely. "The Chameleon Arch... you can't imagine it, Doctor. I really believed that I was Lucy Saxon, I couldn't imagine being another person or living any other kind of life..."

"I know."

Romana's head snapped up to examine his face. "You've used it?"

The Doctor nodded. "Only once. But I remember what it was like. I lived... oh, a third of a lifetime, I suppose, in that body, with the memories the Tardis gave me. Still miss it sometimes, when the mood hits."

"I don't think I'll ever miss Lucy."

"Well, she wasn't entirely useless."

Romana shook her head. "You might fool the Humans with that casual tone of yours, but I've known you for centuries longer than they have, Doctor. Anyway, there's no use pretending; I saw your face when he died. I'm not sorry for him," she told him sternly, and then softened a little and touched his hand. "But I am sorry for you. I know there was... history, between you."

"We're good at that, history. Time Lords." The Doctor frowned and pretended to examine the crystal-like facets of the young Tardis fragment. "I guess that's what it's all about for us, isn't it?"

"Don't try to play it off, Doctor--"

"There's nothing left to say. He's dead. I've said my goodbyes."

"There's still a chance, you know. The Master's come back from worse..."

"Not without the Eye of Harmony. And that's gone, along with all of Gallifrey. No... I think this is the last time." He rubbed his ear, then pushed his hair back out of his eyes, almost inadvertantly catching the heel of his hand across his eye as he did, rubbing out tears that hadn't quite emerged yet. Romana pretended not to notice. "Anyway. Suppose you'll be quite happy here, whole new planet to rule..."

"Ruling was never the point."

"Leadership, ruling..." He waved them both away. "You're good at power, Romana, there's no use pretending you aren't. Somebody's got to do it, I suppose."

"It's not my planet, though. They can handle it on their own."

The Doctor picked an invisible bit of lint off his dark blue trousers. "Any thoughts on what you'll do next, then?"

"Can we drop the games, Doctor? Let me summarize." She cleared her throat neatly. "First you ask what I'm planning, then I put out that I have no plans. You suggest that I might come with you, I demur that I wouldn't want to be in the way of your bacheloric adventuring, you point out that I was never in the way in the past, and then we bicker over the potential for awkwardness, the fact that you jettisoned my room, and that neither of us are used to having to cooperate or confer with anyone in our decisions. Eventually we come to the conclusion that it would be a bad idea, and agree to go our separate ways. Am I right?"

The Doctor stared. "You... you think it would be a bad idea, then?"

Romana sighed. "Of course I do, Doctor. We're neither of us as young as we once were. I've gotten set in my ways, and you've never been anything but stubborn..."

"You're smiling though." He grinned. "I can see it, you're trying not to smile, just like you used to whenever I said something that irritated you but that you couldn't really find a reason to disagree with. Here it comes, I can see it coming... right there, there goes the right corner! Come on, Romana!" He stood up and pulled her to her feet with him. "Last of our kind! You and me, traveling again, it'll be..."

"Just like old times?"

"Nahhh, much better than those. For one thing, I'm prettier now, don't you think?" The grin grew as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Much better bone structure, and look - freckles. You can't say no to the freckles, I know you can't."

"You look like an overgrown puppy." She squinted up at him. "And you still haven't figured out how to use a comb, have you?"

"See, you already sound just like you used to." He steadied, then, remembering all their arguments of the past. Her yelling, him sniping, and the other way around... He'd had any number of companions that he'd considered his best friend, in their time, but in her way Romana had been special. Of course they all had been, each one, but... "Come on, Romana. Just one last time, if you're sure you don't want to stay."

"It'll just bring back old habits."

"Sure, but what have we got to lose, now?"

Romana stared up at him. They were centimeters apart, now, and it surprised him to find that she was actually taller in this regeneration than she had been in the last. Or maybe he was shorter, now? Had he really got shorter and not noticed? Either way, it wasn't nearly so hard as he remembered to look her in the eyes... and those eyes looked sadder than he'd ever seen them. Which was saying a lot, given how she'd often looked during the war. He rested his hands on her shoulders and enjoyed the ticklish touch of her thoughts on his mind.

"Honestly, now, what have we got to lose?" the Doctor repeated, earnest and insistent.

"Each other."

"Well... we won't do that, then."

Romana shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this again, Doctor."

"You don't know..."

"No, I don't!" Romana exploded. "You are used to it. You have been losing people all your lives, I haven't! I never had to do that, not before the war! And now everyone's gone, everyone but you, and I..." She paused and took a slow, deep breath. "I promised myself I wouldn't get like this. I'm sorry, it's..." She waved her hands. "It's the new body, it's different, and I've only had it a few months since it became a Time Lord body again, and..."

"Haven't done that in a while, have you? Regeneration." He smiled and touched her hair, drawing his fingers along her jaw to tilt her face up toward him. "Bit unnerving, new bodies. They muck up the hormone mix, endorphins and seratonin and everything else in new combinations and new levels, and your brain takes it all in different ways. Takes some time to adapt."

"You should know," she grumbled.

"I should," he agreed gently. "I'm old, Romana. You're right, it's not fair of me to expect you to be as used to it as I'm getting to be. I don't want to be that used to it, either. Help me?" He grinned suddenly, remembering the last time they'd been alone together. "Help me remember?"

She tried to frown at him - he could tell, could see the beginnings of it, and then something in her just didn't have the heart for it, and she gave in to a smile. "Just tonight."

"Why?"

"Because I've taken a position with Unit, and some of us still believe in responsibility, that's why."

"You said you didn't want to run Earth."

Romana shook her head. "I'm not running it, just helping them to manage it properly. They need me."

The Doctor waved this off like so much fog. "Ohhh, come on, they can manage on their own. They've got Martha, even, and you remember what she did! They don't really need--"

"Romana!"

Both Time Lords turned toward the door, which pushed open an instant later to reveal a disheveled young man, still straightening his uniform jacket over what looked like a pyjama shirt. He looked a bit familiar, the Doctor thought, but he couldn't quite seem to place him.

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss, but we've just had word from Downing Street - they found another student with those parasites Doctor Jones has been watching for. You wanted to be notified immediately..."

"Of course. Thank you, Benton." Romana was suddenly all business - the Doctor realized he'd forgotten quite how quickly she could turn on and off that professional demeanor of hers. He'd certainly been aware of it during the first weeks of the war, but it was even stranger, now, seeing her dressed perfectly as a Human, but still carrying herself as though she could be wearing the circlet and collar of her presidency. But...

"Hang on... Benton?"

"John Benton," Romana confirmed, busily rifling through some papers over at her desk. "Benton, this is the Doctor."

"But... but... no. No, no, no, that can't... What?"

"Hmm? Oh!" The young man's eyes widened sharply. "Yes, sir! John Benton, Junior, sir! You'll be thinking of my father. Great honor to meet you, sir, I've heard all sorts of stories about you."

"Give him time later, and he'll be sure to exaggerate them," Romana remarked drily. "I'll have to cut you off from your adoring fan for the moment, though, Doctor. I need Mister Benton with me. Unless you want to join us? This should be a purely laboratory event, but if the parasite is active it could get a great deal more exciting."

"Sounds like my cup of tea, then!" The Doctor bounced up from the sofa and stood eagerly ready while she gathered her equipment.

"Good. We'll handle your... memory issue later, then," she added with a significant look. "But Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Do keep in mind... This is my agency, now. If you want to help out, you'll have to play at being my assistant for a change."

The Doctor grinned. "Whatever you say, Madame President."

Romana sobered. "Just Romana."

"My Romana," he agreed. "All right, I'll stay for a while, make sure you've got the hang of Unit, give you a last chance in case you change your mind and decide to get off Earth for a bit. Maybe we'll even go on a side-trip, if we get a few minutes between disasters. Although, knowing this lot..."

"It'll be an exciting life," she confirmed. "Perhaps not quite as exciting as traveling with you, but it does have its moments. Come on. Maybe you'll even learn a thing or two." She held out her hand to him,

The Doctor eyed it suspiciously, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Do I lose my memory again, if I take it?"

Romana shook her head. "I'm sorry about that."

"Nah, don't worry. You did what you thought was right. Mind you, if you do it again..."

"Doctor..."

"I know, I know. Emergency. Always an emergency somewhere. Let's get on with it, then." He took her hand, and squeezed it tightly.

"Let's go," Romana agreed. "There's a whole universe out there for saving."

---- Finis ----