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Chapter Text

Rose leans against a coral strut of the TARDIS, her arms crossed as she listens to the Doctor and Mickey natter on about the internal workings of the ship’s engine. She can’t see them anymore; the two of them went to deep into the space below the main console, she’d think they’d disappeared altogether if not for the sound of their voices echoing around the room.

“Don’t touch that!” the Doctor exclaims suddenly. “That’s not mechanical, that’s part of her telepathic circuit.”

“Sorry,” Mickey says sheepishly. “It’s jus’ – well, I was thinking that this transistor, here, if it was rerouted to take advantage of this main power source – here,” Mickey’s voice strains, likely an indication that he’s pointing to something well beyond his reach. “Then you’d stabilize the power leading into this – whatcha call it.”

“Axonal manifold.”

“Right, and then this circuit here would have less fluctuations, which would-”

“-Improve overall console functioning – Mickey, you’re brilliant!”

Rose rolls her eyes; she doesn’t bother stopping herself, the two of them can’t see her anyways. That should be her under the console with the Doctor. She’s spent enough time in the TARDIS, now. She’s seen both the Doctor and Jack tear apart bits and pieces of the ship to rearrange the flux capacitor or in less successful attempts to repair the chameleon circuit. Rose thinks to herself that she could be just as good as Mickey under the console.

There’s a clamour from under the grill, and the Doctor pops his head up, back to the ground floor of the console room. His eyes immediately catch Rose’s and he gives her a bright grin.

Rose strains to mirror his expression.

The Doctor lifts himself up to sit on the grating, making room for Mickey to pop up shortly after.

“Hey,” Mickey says quickly to Rose. “Did you know what all’s down there?”

Rose feigns innocence. What would Mickey know about the things she’s done with the Doctor, anyways? She picks at a hangnail, not bothering to disguise her tone. “No, I ‘ave no idea.”

She catches the Doctor frown at her slightly, a crease of confusion etched on his face. He crosses his arms casually, looking her up and down.

An alarm goes off at the console, followed suit by the lights flaring, and suddenly the trio are sent near-flying across the room. Mickey, still beneath the grill, is thrown down towards the TARDIS engine. He shouts as Rose reaches for the coral strut behind her, holding on for dear life in a fashion she isn’t so unfamiliar with. The Doctor grips the railing by the ramp, bracing himself for impact.

The TARDIS whirs and groans, the bluish-green light illuminating from the console’s centre settling over the room once more as the ship settles.

“Everyone alright?” the Doctor calls out.

At first, Rose thinks it’s odd. They’ve been travelling together long enough; he hasn’t had to ask in a long time. But then she remembers – “Mickey!” she shouts.

“Yeah, all good. Man, your ship is nuts.”

The Doctor ignores Mickey’s comment; his eyes follow the swinging wires and cables dangling above them, which at current are swinging a bit wildly. The corners of his eyes crease, and Rose can see the cogs turning.

“Wha’ was that all about?” Mickey asks, pulling himself out from under the grating.

“Distress signal,” the Doctor says under his breath. “And a powerful one at that.” He pushes himself off the railing and bounces up to the console.

Rose relaxes her arms around the coral strut, but doesn’t bother to join him.

The Doctor places a hand on the centre column. “It’s alright, old girl.”

“Wha’s he-”

Rose jumps at Mickey, who is now right beside her. Once she catches her breath, she keeps her eyes focused on the Doctor as she says, “He does this sometimes. Talks to the ship.”

Mickey snickers beside her. “I dunno, looks a bit intimate to me.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Rose says, pushing herself away from the coral strut, stepping up to meet the Doctor at the console now.

The Doctor mutters away to himself, reading the scan results on the monitor, flicking switches here and there. He twists a dial to his left, his eyes still on the monitor screen.

“Ah ha!” the Doctor exclaims.

“Trouble?” Rose asks, trying to cast aside her current feelings in replacement of excitement.

The Doctor’s eyes gleam as he grins. “Oh, yes. Mickey,” the Doctor calls out, “you can step out first.”

Mickey’s eyes go wide. “So I can get hurt while you and Rose duck for cover?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s your first trip. Once in a lifetime opportunity,” the Doctor sounds performative, enticing. It was the way he used to talk to Rose, not so long ago (even if it feels like eons to her). In a different lifetime for him, really.

Mickey stumbles to the TARDIS doors, but looks back at the Doctor and Rose. He isn’t quite convinced that he isn’t the bait.

The Doctor motions for Mickey to open the door before shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. Rose is more focused on the Doctor’s expression as he watches Mickey step out for the first time, rather than on Mickey himself. There’s a glee in the Doctor’s face that twinges at her heart. It’s not far off from how he looks at her anytime they land somewhere new. She didn’t realize it wasn’t solely reserved for her. After meeting Sarah Jane, it shouldn’t shock her, it shouldn’t hurt. But it does. There’s a lot between them, since they met with his Sarah, that she wants to know about – that they need to discuss. Alone. Without her – without Mickey in the middle.

Mickey steps out of the TARDIS, and quickly exclaims, “It’s a spaceship! Brilliant!”

The Doctor smiles to himself, a wide and toothy grin. He looks at Rose, the gleam in his eyes transformed into something – something that she wants to believe is meant for her.

She bites at her lip, and races down the ramp to meet Mickey outside.

“I got a spaceship on my first go,” Mickey says to himself, taking everything in.

The ship itself is nothing to marvel at, at least in Rose’s opinion. It’s all monochromatic, drab, and dark. She can vaguely make out what looks to be equipment scattered about. Rose can’t explain it, but it almost feels . . . lifeless?

“It looks kind of abandoned,” she says, looking past Mickey as he stands transfixed outside the TARDIS doors. “Anyone on board?” she calls out, suspecting there won’t be a reply.

“Doesn’t look like it,” the Doctor says, stepping out of the TARDIS and shutting the door behind him. He adjusts his overcoat with a shrug of his shoulders, pulling the lapels down. “There’s nobody here.”

“What’s the date?” Rose asks, turning to face the Doctor, but he’s already on the move, taking in the ship. “How far have we gone?”

“Three thousand years in your future, according to the TARDIS. Give or take.” The tails of his coat swish as he circles this room they’ve landed in. Rose looks back at Mickey, who is still taking everything in.

The click of metal steals Rose’s attention. The Doctor is standing at the control panel of the ship, presumably. The Doctor steps away from the control panel and lifts his head to look at the ceiling. Rose follows suit. Above them, metal groans and the ship rumbles quietly as a panel retracts to create an opening for them to see the stars.

She’s been with the Doctor a while now, there’s so much she’s learned, so many things that fail to phase her now a days. But not this. Not ever, Rose thinks.

Rose looks to Mickey, and elbows him in the ribs. “Mickey Smith, meet the universe,” she says quietly, still in awe of the scenery herself.

“Fifty first century,” the Doctor says. While he’s maintaining his role as tour guide, Rose can’t help but feel he’s distracted, still looking for answers. But he keeps chatting away, typical. “Diagmar Cluster. You’re a long way from home, Mickey. Two and a half galaxies away.”

“It’s so realistic!” Mickey exclaims. His eyes dance from star to star, between the constellations above. Rose can see their bright reflections in the dark brown of his eyes.

“Oh, look at this,” the Doctor says, throwing a piece of space junk against the control panel. “They’ve torn the whole thing apart, rerouted the circuits.”

This gets Mickey’s attention. He jogs to join the Doctor at the control panel, brushing past Rose. Something burns in her stomach, crawling up her chest. She stamps it down, stepping forward to join them at the control panel. She knows how this works, what to do. This time with the Doctor on different worlds was hers to start with, after all.

Mickey crouches by the Doctor’s legs, pulling one of the bottom panels away from wall. “Oi, this is a mess in ‘ere.”

“Hm?” the Doctor sounds, before crouching down next to Mickey. “They’ve been repairing, rerouting like I said.”

“How can they be repairing, though”?” Mickey asks, sticking his hand into the mess of wires. “There’s barely anything ‘ere to repair.”

Rose squints at the monitor readings a few steps away from where Mickey and the Doctor are knelt. She can’t make out most of it, but from what she can understand, it doesn’t look good. “Doctor, wha’s this mean?” She points at the screen, knowing he’ll be by her side in an instant.

The Doctor rises from his crouch next to Mickey and steps towards Rose. “Now, that’s odd.” The Doctor says, his eyes dancing across the readings displayed on the screen. “Look at all that,” he says, pointing at the screen. “All the warp engines are going. Full capacity. There’s enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe, but we’re not moving. So where’s all that power going to?” the Doctor asks to himself, turning his back to the monitor to look back out to the room as a whole.

“What about the crew? Where’d they go?”

“Good question!” the Doctor says, turning back to the monitor. He hits a few buttons, and the monitor delivers the report of a scan. The Doctor frowns.

“No life readings on board,” Rose says, reading the screen. “’Cept for us. But where could they have gone?” she asks the Doctor. “We’ve got to be in deep space. They didn’t just nip out for a quick fag.”

“No, I’ve checked all the smoking pods,” the Doctor says, content to play along with Rose’s quip, but he’s still distracted, still thinking. He scratches at his sideburn. “When we came aboard, did you smell-”

“Yeah, faintly,” Rose says, sniffing again, hoping to place the mystery smell of the ship. “It’s like . . . like a barbeque, like someone’s cooking.”

“Sunday roast, definitely,” Mickey adds, still caught up in the wiring of the control panel.

Hard lines set in the Doctor’s face.

“What d’you think it is?” Rose asks, settling by his side.

The Doctor gives his head a slight shake. “Don’t know yet. Nothing dangerous. I think.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring.”

The Doctor looks at the control panel again, and fiddles with different buttons and settings. His fingers dance across the buttons as if he were playing piano. Rose watches his hands as she leans against the edge of the control panel, content to let the Doctor fiddle. She feels something click into place by her hip, which is soon followed by the metal of the ship groaning again.

Rose looks at the Doctor. “I didn’t mean it!”

“Hey, wha’s that?” Mickey asks, rising from his crouch and running to an opening in the wall. The Doctor and Rose follow closely behind him.

Whatever Rose pressed on the control panel had revealed some sort of hidden compartment, a hidden door concealing . . . a fireplace?

“Well, there’s something you don’t see in your average spaceship,” the Doctor says, running his hands along the chestnut-coloured wooden panelling of the fireplace. The ornate carvings decorating the panel are beautiful, Rose thinks, as she runs her hand along the mantle.

“Eighteenth century. France,” the Doctor says, watching Rose’s hand along the mantle. “Nice mantle,” he says.

“Not a hologram,” Rose says sarcastically.

“It’s not even a reproduction,” the Doctor says, “This is actually an eighteenth-century French fireplace.”

“Uh, I’m not an expert or nothin’,” Mickey says, looking into the hearth, “but I don’t think you’re supposed to see through ‘em.

“What?” the Doctor asks, crouching down to see through the fireplace.

“There’s another room through there,” Mickey points. “Is that where your mystery crew went?” Mickey asks.

“Perhaps,” the Doctor says slowly, turning his head to get a better look at the room on the other side.

“If that’s where the crew went,” Mickey says, pointing at the other side of the fireplace, “how’d they get there?”

“There are more questions than answers with this ship,” the Doctor says. He inhales sharply, standing from the hearth. He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets. “Where does it lead? Based on the design, you’d think to 1700s France. And more importantly, why? And what are they cooking in here?” He rubs a hand along the back of his neck.

“You’re saying something’s fishy?” Mickey asks, joining the Doctor away from the fireplace. Mickey crosses his arms in a way that surely makes him feel important, Rose thinks. It’s what she used to do, during her first trips.

Rose moves her hand along the mantle and lifts her arm to rest her elbow on the corner. Oddly, the corner of the mantle shifts downward, like a pressure plate, and when it clicks in place, the entire wall shifts, and Rose fights to stay on her feet as the ground beneath her spins.

“Rose!” she hears the Doctor call.

When the ground stops moving and the wall clicks into place, Rose comes face to face with an incredibly fancy bedroom. It reminds Rose of something out of a fairy-tale, the sorts of rooms uppity princesses have. It appears as though every decoration, every detail of the room is lined with gold and more ornate designs. It’s a sore on the eyes, if anything.

“Rose, what happened? Are you alright?” the Doctor asks.

Rose steps away from the fireplace, and crouches to see back into the spaceship. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m here, wherever here is. Looks like eighteenth-century France. Lots of gold. Very ornate.”

The Doctor looks past her shoulder. “It’s all real, not set-dressing or-?”

“Na, doesn’t look like it. I can have a feel, if you want.”

Mickey peeks around from behind the Doctor. “Wha’ happened?”

“Wish I knew. All of a sudden, my whole world is spinning.” She leans back to look up at the mantle. “Must have hit a button on the mantle.”

“Is that another part of the ship, or-?”

Rose doesn’t hear the end of Mickey’s question, because another voice steals her attention.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the voice of a young girl says. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Rose whips around to face the girl, standing to her feet. The girl before her has long blonde hair and wears what looks to be an incredibly expensive and heavy dress. She carries an air that would have Rose’s mother on a week-long rampage. The girl is prim, proper, near-statuesque. Rose isn’t convinced she hasn’t stepped directly into a fairy-tale. “Uh, I- uh, well,” Rose stammers. “Fireplace inspector,” Rose says pointedly. She gives the girl a small wave. “Hello.”

The girl smiles quickly, but she frowns again. “Is there something wrong with the fireplace?”

“Nope! Just routine,” Rose says, unsure what to do with her hands. “What’s your name?”

“Reinette.”

“Reinette, that’s a nice name.” Rose thinks a moment, then says, “Sounds French.”

This earns Rose a laugh from Reinette. “Of course, mademoiselle. We are in Paris.”

“Of course,” Rose says, her eyes scanning the room again.

“Ask her what year it is,” the Doctor whispers from the other side of the fireplace.

“Reinette,” Rose says, “Could you tell me what year it is?”

Reinette gives Rose a funny look. “Of course, I can. It is seventeen-hundred twenty-seven.”

“Thank you,” Rose says. “Sorry for the silly questions. Hard to keep track of those sort of things between fireplaces. . .” she trails off, cringing at her explanation.

“You must work hard if you cannot remember,” Reinette says.

It’s Rose’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, work too hard, me. I ought to take a vacation after this.”

A voice calls out from the corridor in which Reinette entered the room.

“I must go, mademoiselle. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Goodbye, Reinette.”

The girl walks out of the room, and Rose exhales before crouching down to look at the Doctor and Mickey through the fireplace again. “How’d it go, coach?” she asks playfully.

“You were brilliant, Rose. A natural fireplace inspector if I’ve ever seen one.” the Doctor says, and Rose can’t help the beaming smile on her face.

Mickey interrupts the moment by asking, “That girl – Reinette, she said they’re in 1727. How can Rose be in the future one minute and in the past the next?”

“I said this ship was generating enough power to punch a hole in the universe,” the Doctor starts, his words lingering on his tongue, like he’s still formulating his theory. “I think we just found the hole. Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink.”

“What’s that?” Mickey asks again.

“Fancy word for ‘magic door’,” Rose stage whispers, catching the Doctor’s eye playfully. He’s not amused. She says to the Doctor, “So you’re telling me I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

“Not even close,” the Doctor says, hitting his hand against his side of the wall. “This is the exterior hull here, and somehow this fireplace is channelling the power from the ship into a gateway to another moment in time. And with hardly any equipment.”

“Next question: how do I get back, exactly?” Rose asks. “Do you need to use the TARDIS?”

“No, no. You should be able to use the same button on the mantle. And I want to keep the TARDIS here; I don’t want to lose this ship.”

Rose stands up, and presses along the edge of the fireplace mantle. Before she can worry that the Doctor was wrong, that the button wouldn’t return her to the fifty-first century spaceship, the ground beneath her feet is turning, and she’s back facing the Doctor and Mickey once again.

The wall clicks into place, and the Doctor can’t contain the grin on his face. He holds his arms out to her and says, “Hello.”

Rose meets him halfway, wrapping her arms around him. She pulls away, her hands trailing down the sleeves of his overcoat. The Doctor’s hands settle comfortably on her waist. She wants to tell him she missed him, but that’s silly he was there the whole time. She wants to chirp at him for worrying about her too much. Instead, she settles discussing the matter at hand. “It’s funny though,” she says, “even though I wasn’t on the ship, the TARDIS was still translating. I could feel it.”

“The TARDIS recognizes the temporal shift. You were still well within her vicinity. It was one strong punch that made this hole in the universe.”

“Reinette wasn’t speaking English?” Mickey asks behind them. “Makes sense, I suppose, her being French and all.”

“That’s the TARDIS,” Rose explains, letting her hands drop from the Doctor’s sleeves. “Translates for you.”

“Period appropriate French as well,” the Doctor interjects. “There’s no doubt – that fireplace is a portal to another point in time and space. But why? What for?” The Doctor stops, his coat tails curling at his ankles. “Reinette was leaving, maybe I’ll just take a peek. Scan the room. You two stay here.”

“Doctor-” Rose grabs lightly at his elbow.

The Doctor turns around, shrugging off his overcoat. “Mickey, get back to the control panel, see what else you can figure out. Rose-”

“If you think I’m going to stand around as a coat rack you’ve got another thing coming,” Rose says, crossing her arms.

“I need you to stay here,” the Doctor explains. “I don’t know if this fireplace has limited trips, but if it does, you can pilot the TARDIS to come pick me up. ‘kay?” He gives her a sickeningly sweet smile that she doesn’t want to admit makes her heart flutter. She mostly wants to give him a kick up the backside. “I won’t be long.” He tosses her his coat as he runs to the fireplace, looking for the button to make the wall swivel.

“It’s on the corner, genius,” Rose says, her arms still crossed.

The Doctor merely looks up at her with an expression of genuine gratitude. “Thank-you,” he says, and he turns away.

“Adventure of a lifetime,” Mickey says off in the corner by the control panel. “He gets all the fun while you’re stuck ‘ere. Now you know the feeling.”

Rose directs an aggressive frown towards Mickey, when the Doctor calls for her through the other end of the fireplace. Rose rushes to the hearth, looking through to Reinette’s room.

“What is it?” Rose asks.

The Doctor hurriedly brings a finger to his lips. “It’s nighttime here. Reinette’s in bed,” he whispers.

“How’s that possible?” Rose asks, meeting his volume. “I was there not even five minutes ago.”

“This fireplace, this magic door, it-”

“Who’s there?” Reinette calls out in the dark. Rose peeks behind the Doctor to get a look at her, but it’s too dark.

The Doctor stands, turning to face Reinette. “It’s okay,” he says, in a bit louder of a whisper. “I’m another fireplace inspector. I’m friends with Rose, you know Rose. You two met earlier today.”

Reinette sits up straighter, tilting her head at the Doctor. “Monsieur, that was weeks ago. Months.”

The Doctor takes his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket pocket, and points it at a candle. A flame spontaneously appears on the candle wick. “There we are,” he says. “Much better.”

“Who are you?” Reinette asks timidly. “And what are you doing here?”

The Doctor places the sonic screwdriver back in his jacket pocket before tucking his hands behind him, hoping to appear open and friendly to Reinette. The incessant ticking of a clock somewhere in Reinette’s room catches his attention. He looks around, spotting a clock on one of the side tables. “Reinette, your clock is awfully loud for being broken.”

Reinette’s brow creases in confusion. “Monsieur, I don’t –”

The Doctor tiptoes towards Reinette’s bed. He crouches down, near the side table with the clock looking up at Reinette. “It’s alright, Reinette,” he assures her, watching, listening.

“Are you scared, Monsieur?” Reinette asks.

The Doctor meets her wide eyes. “Just a bit,” he says. “But that’s why I’m here. You just stay on the bed, okay?”

Reinette nods, curling into the blankets on her bed, her eyes glued on the Doctor.

“Doctor?” Rose calls from the fireplace.

“Is that Rose?” Reinette asks, a hint of hopefulness in her tone.

The Doctor smiles. “Yes, that’s her. We’ll talk to her once this is all sorted. Now,” the Doctor speaks at full volume. “Rose, I hope you’re taking notes. There’s something ticking in this room that’s like a clock, but isn’t a clock. For starters, Reinette’s clock is broken.”

“Oh, that is creepy,” Rose says quietly.

“And the resonance is all wrong,” the Doctor continues, “Whatever it is, it’s too big. Six feet, I’d say.”

“Size of a man?” Rose says incredulously.

“What is it, Monsieur?” Reinette asks, curling in on herself in the center of the bed.

“Now let’s think. Rose – if you were a thing that ticked and you were hiding in someone’s bedroom, first thing you’d do-?”

“Break the clock!” Rose exclaims from the fireplace.

“Precisely. No one notices the sound of one clock ticking, but two? You might start to wonder if you’re really alone,” the Doctor’s tone spirals into something sinister. He drops the tone, but maintains intensity. “Remember what I said, Reinette? Stay on the bed, right in the middle. Don’t put your hands or feet over the edge, yeah?”

“You’re doing really well, Reinette,” Rose says from the fireplace. “We’ll have everything sorted soon.”

The Doctor grabs his sonic again to scan under Reinette’s bed. He waves it back and forth, the blue light not enough to illuminate the darkness under her bed completely when it’s knocked out of his hand, skittering across the floor. The Doctor reaches for his sonic and looks back under the bed. On the other side, there is a pair of buckle shoes standing, with a suspicious pair of legs attached. The Doctor peeks above the bed, and freezes. Reinette watches his expression, her brow upturned in fear.

“Reinette. Don’t look ‘round.”

“What is it, Doctor?” Rose calls.

The Doctor is greeted with a human-like figure, dressed in period-appropriate garb – bright velvet and frilly lace accenting the sleeves and neckline of the blouse. It wears a powdered wig atop its head. It’s face, however, is not a human face. This figure hides any potential face it may have behind a ceramic costume mask with an overexaggerated expression painted on.

“You,” the Doctor threatens the figure, “stay exactly where you are. What do you want with her?”

The figure does not move, it does not respond. It ticks away.

It’s enough to give anyone a headache, the Doctor thinks. But as he stares at the figure, as he thinks about the ship back in the fifty-first century and looking down at Reinette, he pauses.

“Hold still, let me look,” he says; there’s a hint of questioning, a hint of curiosity to the Doctor’s tone. He takes Reinette’s head gently in his hands, looking into her blue eyes. “You’ve been scanning her brain!” the Doctor exclaims. “What, you’ve crossed two galaxies and thousands of years just to scan a child’s brain? What could there be in a little girl’s mind worth blowing a hole in the universe?”

“It wants me?” Reinette asks, turning her head towards the figure. The Doctor lets go of her head, letting her turn around fully. “You want me?” Reinette asks the figure.

“Not yet,” the figure, a droid, based on its digitized voice, says, “You are incomplete.”

“Incomplete?” the Doctor asks. “What’s that mean, incomplete.”

The droid remains silent.

“You can answer her, you can answer me,” the Doctor demands. “What do you mean, incomplete?”

The droid turns and begins moving around the bed to face the Doctor. It’s joints sound abrasive, like they aren’t well oiled. The Doctor stands to meet the droid head on as the droid raises its arm and a narrow, serrated blade pops out of its hand.

“Monsieur, be careful,” Reinette says, watching both the Doctor and the droid carefully.

“Doctor?” Rose asks from the fireplace.

The Doctor swallows. “Just a nightmare, Reinette. Nothing to worry about. Everyone has nightmares.”

The droid slashes, but the Doctor ducks and dances to the droid’s side. The droid swings again, and the Doctor dances backwards, moving closer to the fireplace. “Even monsters from under the bed have nightmares, don’t you Monsieur Monster?” The Doctor ducks again, feeling this foray with the droid getting a little too close for comfort. “Rose, get ready!” the Doctor calls.

“What do monsters have nightmares about?” Reinette asks from the bed.

The Doctor dodges to the side as the droid brings its arm down, lodging its blade into the wood of the fireplace. As the droid attempts to free itself, the Doctor reaches for the corner of the fireplace mantel, activating the spinning mechanism. “Me!” he exclaims, laughing wildly as he spins back into the fifty-first century.

Waiting for him is Rose, who is holding a monstrous weapon, which she has aimed at the droid.

“Now!” the Doctor cries as he steps off the fireplace plate, letting Rose spray the droid with a cold blast of air, freezing the droid’s inner workings.

“Ice gun!” Mickey exclaims. “Very cool.”

“Fire extinguisher,” the Doctor corrects, waving his hand out to dispel the excess smoke. “Good thinking, Rose.”

Rose relaxes her shoulders, at ease now with the fire extinguisher. “Not like you gave me much warning!” she exclaims.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Things were escalating rather quickly.”

“You think! Where’d this guy come from?”

“Here,” the Doctor says, standing next to Rose.

“So why’s it dressed like that?” Mickey asks, circling the droid.

“Field trip to France,” the Doctor explains, “Some kind of basic camouflage protocol. Nice needlework, shame about the face,” he looks to Rose, and she gives him a playfully disgusted expression.

Mickey rips the mask and wig off the droid, letting them drop to the ground. “Whoa,” he says.

“Oh, you are beautiful,” the Doctor says pointedly. “No, really. You’re gorgeous!” he exclaims, his hands dancing around the glass head of the droid. Inside, brass cogs are delicately arranged, almost suspended, appearing like the droid’s brain. Likely, Rose thinks, the droid’s actual brain is housed somewhere in the abdomen.

“Space age clockwork,” the Doctor continues, in awe of the design before him. “I love it. I’ve got chills! I mean this from the hearts, it would be a crime, it would be an act of vandalism to disassemble you.” The Doctor’s eyes flicker up and down the head, unsure where to start. “But that won’t stop me.” He reaches for the sonic in his jacket, when a bright light illuminates around the droid, and it disappears into thin air.

“Short range teleport,” the Doctor says. “Can’t have gone far. Could still be on board.”

“Monsieur?” a young voice calls out.

The Doctor’s head whips around to face the fireplace again, and he runs to kneel at the hearth. “Reinette! You should be in bed.”

“You said I could talk to Rose,” she reminds him impatiently.

“Ah, of course. How could I deny you that? Rose-”

But Rose is already crouched by the Doctor’s side, waving to Reinette. “You were really quite brave back there,” Rose says.

“If not for you,” Reinette says. “Thank you, both. For protecting my fireplace.”

“You’re most welcome, Reinette,” the Doctor says.

“There will be a dance next week here, at the palace. Would the two of you join us?”

“We’ll do our best,” Rose says.

“You know how busy fireplace inspectors can get,” the Doctor says.

“Now, back to bed, like the Doctor said,” Rose says. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Good night, Rose,” Reinette says, “Good night, Monsieur.”

Rose and the Doctor give Reinette a wave, and then step back together towards Mickey.

“I don’t understand,” Rose says, biting at her lip. “Time passed for Reinette when we stepped away from the fireplace. Why was she still the same Reinette when we just talked to her now? Why is time passing differently for her?”

The Doctor makes an annoyed sound; Rose braces herself for a long-winded scientific explanation. “This hole in the universe, it’s not neat; whoever set up this fireplace didn’t have enough resources to stabilize the portal. The connection’s loose – time can’t stabilize around it. Time can only stabilize when both sides interact – when you and I or we and Reinette talk through the hearth. But the second we step away-”

“Time resumes at its accelerated speed,” Rose finishes his sentence.

“Which is why if we want to go to that party, we ought to try now.” The Doctor turns to Mickey, who is huddled over the control panel. As he speaks, the Doctor grabs his overcoat Rose left for the floor in exchange for the fire extinguisher and the wig abandoned by the droid. “Mickey, care to join us?”

“Na, you two go,” Mickey says, “Something’s up with this control panel. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Wait a minute,” Rose says, grabbing the Doctor by the arm as he tosses his overcoat into the TARDIS. “What if we can’t get back?”

The Doctor shakes his head. “This portal is too unstable to have a limit placed on it. If it’s open, it’s open. Only thing that will stop the fireplace from turning is if the whole thing goes kaput, and I don’t think Mickey’s planning to abandon us in eighteenth-century France.” The Doctor leans closer to Rose’s ear. “Someone’s playing the long game, and we’re gonna find out. Now let’s go!” The Doctor holds out his hand, which Rose happily takes. He gives her hand a squeeze and leads her to the fireplace. “See ya, then, Mickey!” the Doctor calls out as they spin back into Reinette’s room.

“You’re not really going to wear that powdered wig, are you?” Rose asks as the Doctor haphazardly throws the wig atop his head.

“Why, you want it?” the Doctor asks.

Rose shakes her head. “C’mon, I’m sure we’re already late.”

*

The ballroom is brimming with activity. The ladies of eighteenth-century France glide across the dance floor, their hands pressed against those of the gentlemen across from them, who are dressed in highly-pigmented jackets and extra frills. The mandolins and violas bring a light tone to the dance.

“We’re a bit underdressed,” Rose says, looking up at the Doctor in his ridiculous powdered wig.

“Like that’s ever stopped us before,” he winks at her, “Keep an eye out for the droids. They’ll be the only one in masks.” The Doctor holds out his hand in a more gentlemanly fashion than normal. “The ballroom awaits,” the Doctor teases.

Rose bites at her cheek to keep from grinning too much. She places her hand in his, and they step out on the dance floor. The Doctor finds them a bit of space, even though the entire floor is crowded. The Doctor releases Rose’s hand and bows most graciously. Rose giggles, responding with an improper curtsey. The Doctor holds his hand up, palm open, which Rose meets with her own. They slowly begin circling around their hands, pressed flatly together.

Rose stares at him, as he scans the dance floor. “It’s not quite 60s disco,” she says, following the Doctor’s lead.

The Doctor hums in agreement. “Could do with a bit of rock ‘n’ roll, myself.” He stops, swapping hands; Rose does the same. “I can’t see Reinette anywhere. You’d think a little girl would be easy to spot amongst all these big skirts.” As they dance around each other, the powdered wig atop the Doctor’s head falls to the ground. He doesn’t bother chasing it between everyone’s feet.

The music concludes, and the couples on the dance floor step back from one another, bowing and curtseying once more. The Doctor fits in quite well; Rose jumps to keep up with the crowd.

“Thank you, one and all, for attending this evening,” a man speaks at the front of the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “I welcome to the stage the host and organizer of this event, Mademoiselle Poisson!”

The attendees clap, and Rose joins in with them. She can see the Doctor is frozen out of the corner of her eye. She nudges him. “You’re supposed to clap,” she whispers to him.

The Doctor jolts beside her. “Did- did that man just say Poisson?”

“Yes, I think we all heard,” Rose says.

“Reinette Poisson?” the Doctor says like a stuck record. “No!” he exclaims, grabbing Rose by the shoulders and giving her a shake. “No, no, no, no, no way. Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson? Later Madame Etoiles? Later still mistress of Louis the Fifteenth, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan, fantastic gardener!”

“Wait, hold on,” Rose says, finally processing his words. “You’re saying the little girl we met this famous woman, Reinette Poisson!”

“Now you’re getting it, Rose!” the Doctor is practically shaking with excitement. “Oh, brilliant, I’ve always wanted to meet her. She’s got an excellent taste in porcelain.”

Rose exhales. “Well, now you can say you have.”

Ahead of them, Reinette steps to the front of the room, except she’s no longer a child; she’s no less than sixteen years old, dressed from head to toe in glittering jewels and hand-woven fabrics.

“It is a great pleasure to join you all this evening,” Reinette calls out. “Your celebrations of tonight’s artworks are appreciated. I hope you consider supporting these wonderful artists before the night concludes. But for now – let us dance!”

The crowd cheers, and the music strikes again. The crowd divides, parting like the sea, women on one side, men on the other. Rose’s side feels cold without the Doctor beside it, but at the same time, she isn’t sure how close she wants to be to the Doctor at this moment, as he bounces on his heels from the excitement of not only meeting, but being in the mere presence of this Reinette Poisson.

The men bow, and the ladies curtsey, and Rose still finds herself falling behind. She steps towards the center of the room to meet the Doctor, their hands outstretched, palms flat. Everyone around them turns and taps their toes delicately on the floor, matching the beat of the music. Rose and the Doctor are horribly out of sync. She tilts her head to catch his eye, but his gaze is reserved solely for Reinette. They’ve met plenty of historical figures before, sure. She’s seen the Doctor, past and present, dawdle on the most famous people from her history, and sometimes from her future, too. It was always a bit much to swallow, and a little bit embarrassing on his behalf, but she stood by his side through them all. This, on the other hand, was completely different. This wasn’t just admiration; Rose dared to think this was obsession.

“Oi, that’s my foot!” Rose exclaims as the Doctor steps on her toe.

“Sorry,” he says, giving her a once over before setting his gaze back on Reinette.

The crowd of dancers move to step away from one another, and both lines shift. The ladies move to the left, while the men move to the right.

She’s lost him, Rose thinks.

Without the Doctor to attempt to lead, Rose is hopelessly lost in the moves of the dance. She’s so behind the beat that her other dance partners frown or huff as she tries to catch up. Normally, she wouldn’t care; what would they know about being her other half, anyways. But here and now, on top of everything: the Reinette obsession, Mickey on the TARDIS, meeting Sarah Jane, you just leave us behind; is that what you’re going to do to me?

She’s been with him for so long now, and she keeps fooling herself into thinking that she knows him, that she’s been with him through so much, how could she possibly not know the ins and outs of her best friend? And every time, she’s proven wrong. She’s been with him for so long now, but sometimes she thinks she never really got him back, not after his blue eyes melted into brown.

The best she can do now, in the middle of this dance that she can’t seem to find her footing in, is to scan the crowd for painted costume masks. Every other turn on this adventure has left her feeling useless, like a spare part. She knows she’s good, better than. So why does it feel like she’s continually having to prove it to him? More importantly, why does she keep having to prove it to herself?

*

It's been hours since the Doctor and Rose left for the ball, and while Mickey was enjoying the peace and quiet and absence of their truly obnoxious PDA, he is starting to get a bit lonely. He even stopped for lunch, stepping into the TARDIS galley for a bite to eat. And they still weren’t back. The Doctor had explained how the time on the space ship passed at a different speed than time in France, but it didn’t make much sense to Mickey. He just hoped they’d be back soon.

Another thing that wasn’t making sense to Mickey was the set up of this ship. Sure, he wasn’t an expert on spaceship engines the way the Doctor was, but his knowledge of car engines had gotten him pretty far. Now, he was wandering the corridors of the ship, hoping to find one of the power sources of the ship. Maybe it would explain how this thing worked, and why so much of the ship had been stripped.

Mickey keeps walking, listening for any sounds of the clockwork droids as he does. He listens to the sound of his shoes against the metal, the sound of his heartbeat in his eardrums. Which, now that he’s attending to it, his heartbeat is quite loud. Like, abnormally loud. Mickey brings a hand up to his chest, thinking he’ll feel his heart literally beating out of his chest. But his chest rises and falls like normal; his heart thrums at its usual, not like he’s been running a marathon or after a good scare from a horror film. Or being chased around by aliens. That’s a newer experience.

Mickey listens more closely, and hates that the sound seems to be coming from within the panelling of the ship’s hull. He cracks open the one panel, and looks at the wiring. This time, his heart pounds in his ears as he pulls out his cellphone.

*

Rose is trying to do some form of a two-step when her cellphone rings. She freezes, looking for the Doctor across the room. He’s busy talking with Reinette. Rose can barely swallow the bile rising in her throat.

“’scuse me,” she tells her less-than-impressed dance partner. She steps out of the dance line, off to the side of the room, to answer her phone. Thankfully, it’s not her mother, the way it has been so often in the past. It’s Mickey.

She never thought she’d call Mickey her saving grace, but she’s been taken by surprise a lot in the past few days.

“Yeah, Mickey, what is it?” Rose answers the phone.

“Rose!” Mickey exclaims. “You an’ the Doctor have got to get back here. This ship is crazy, like proper!”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Rose says. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

“HURRY!” Mickey shouts before the line goes dead.

Rose pulls the phone away from her ear, frowning. She shoves it back in her pocket, and looks for the Doctor through the crowd. Everyone is so tightly packed; she struggles to find him. Instead, Rose settles for elbowing her way through the crowd, not bothering with minding her manners.

“Rose!” the Doctor exclaims as she comes into view. “Reinette and I were just talking about you.” As she gets closer, the Doctor bends down to speak towards her ear. “She’s been telling me how we’re late to the party by nearly ten years.”

“Sorry,” is all Rose can manage towards Reinette, not that it’s her fault. “Doctor, we’ve got to go.”

“Oh, but you only just arrived,” Reinette says. “Surely the fireplaces can wait.”

“It’s Mickey, he’s found something,” Rose presses, staring at the Doctor.

The Doctor huffs, “Oh, that boyfriend of yours. Reinette,” he takes Reinette’s hand in his, placing a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, “until we meet again.”

“Likewise, Monsieur. Rose,” Reinette nods towards Rose.

Rose gives Reinette a half-hearted wave, and is practically dragging the Doctor away. She pulls on his arm, running towards the ballroom exit.

“You could have had a little more heart back there, Rose,” the Doctor says, getting his legs under him.

“Not now!” she exclaims, running into Reinette’s room, and hitting the button on the mantle before the Doctor can get both is feet on the plate. He jumps on, still catching his breath from the whirlwind Rose has taken him on.

“You’d love Reinette,” the Doctor says. “She was telling me all about this print work she’s interested in. You and her could make t-shirts!”

Rose doesn’t bother with the Doctor; she’s off the plate before the wall can click into place. “Mickey!” she shouts down the corridors of the ship. “Mickey?”

Mickey comes running up one of the corridors, catching his breath. “Oi, took the two of you long enough!”

“What are you talking about? We came back as soon as you called,” Rose explains.

“It’s been over an hour since we talked!” Mickey exclaims. “I thought you two got, y'know, distracted.”

Well, one of us did, Rose thinks.

The Doctor looks up and around the ship. “The droids. They’re getting impatient. They’re directing more power to the fireplace, accelerating the effects of the loose connection. Time is going to start passing a lot more quickly on Reinette’s side. We probably scared them.”

“What is it they want with her, exactly?” Rose asks, lacking patience.

“They were scanning her head,” the Doctor says to himself, remembering. He scrubs a hand down his face. “What for?”

“You oughta see what I found, maybe that will help,” Mickey offers. “Follow me.”

Mickey leads the two of them down the corridors from which he came. The walls feel suffocating around Rose, as she follows Mickey and can feel the Doctor behind her.

Mickey stops, pointing at the cavity behind the panelling of the ship. “Whattya make of this, then?”

Rose looks in, and covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god,” she says under her breath.

“Maybe it’s not real, maybe it’s a phony, synthetic or something,” Mickey tries.

The Doctor peeks at the inner ship behind Rose. “No, Mickey, I think that’s a real heart. Flesh plus heat. . .” he trails off.

“An’ that’s not all I found. There was an eye used in the side camera over there,” Mickey points behind him. How’d they do that, then?”

“D’you think. . .” Rose doesn’t want to ask, “D’you think this is what happened to the crew?”

The Doctor’s expression remains grim. “I think so. Stranded in deep space, they ran out of parts. Had to get creative, resourceful. Must be part of the programming. Repair the ship any way it can, with whatever it could find. Someone forgot to say the crew was off limits.”

“They used up all the crew,” Mickey thinks aloud. “Is that why they’re going after Reinette? For more parts?”

“Oh, good thinking Mickey!” the Doctor says, “Really good thinking. But why rip open a hole in the fabric of time and space? Those time windows take colossal energy. Why waste that on getting to Reinette rather than getting back home – wherever home is.” The Doctor pulls at his ear. “I think we need to get back to Reinette, ask her what she’s seen.”

“Great,” Rose says shortly, picking at a hangnail.

The trio head back to the main room where they first landed, unaware of the droids following them.

*

“How long d’you think it’s been for Reinette? Since we left the dance?”

The Doctor blows air out his lips. “Dunno. Years, probably. But that’s why we’ve got to go now.”

Mickey runs a hand along the hull. “What else d’you think is in here, Doctor?” he asks.

The Doctor steps towards Mickey, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Best not to think about it.” He drags Mickey away from the wall, closer to the center of the room. “We’ll try to be back soon, but it’s hard to tell with this time window.” The Doctor steps onto the plate, joining Rose.

Rose hits the button on the corner of the mantle, and as they start turning, the clockwork droids strike. One of them wrap an arm around Mickey’s neck, pointing its serrated blade at his head. The other stand, staring at the Doctor and Rose.

“Mickey!” Rose shouts.

The Doctor leaps into action, jumping off the fireplace to join Mickey, his sonic screwdriver already in hand. Before Rose can see the outcome of the altercation, she’s turned into eighteenth-century France. She steps off the plate before the wall clicks in place, kneeling to watch the fight through the hearth. She can only see legs, but the Doctor and Mickey are both moving now, so at least there’s that. Rose continues to turn her head at odd angles, trying to get a better view of the fight, when-

“Rose?”

Rose turns around, still crouched. “Reinette, um, hi.”

Reinette, dressed in a full pink gown, walks from the doorway of her bedroom closer to where Rose is by the fireplace. Rose looks back over her shoulder, but the fight between the Doctor and Mickey is fully out of sight from the hearth now. Rose stands, brushing her hands against her jeans to pretend she is at ease.

“Inspecting my fireplace again?” Reinette asks.

“Yeah, routine, you know.”

Reinette’s mouth sets in a line. “You and your companion, the Doctor, you called him,” she says, “are quite strange. Always in a flurry of motion. You arrive to our dance nine years too late, only to rush off again for another twelve.”

Rose’s eyes go wide. “It’s been twelve years since we last saw you?”

Reinette turns, pacing around the room. “I’m still not convinced you and the Doctor are not figments of my imagination, elements of a nightmare I cannot shake. Nor those men with the costume faces.”

“The droids,” Rose says, “the clockwork droids, you’ve seen ‘em?”

Reinette pauses, looking to Rose. “They are here now and then. Not all the time. Following me around the palace.”

“Have they attacked you? Threatened you?” Rose asks, stepping away from the fireplace to look behind the curtains in Reinette’s room.

“Not yet.”

Rose freezes, her hands clenched in the fabric of the curtains. “Have they hurt anyone?”

Reinette bows her head. “Only when the guards have threatened them. We’ve settled for leaving them in peace, so long as they do the same. They simply observe.”

Rose nibbles at her lip. “I doubt that's all,” she says under her breath.

A bright light fills the room, and one of the droids appears again, its arm outstretched with a serrated blade pointed towards Rose.

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in,” Rose says, her voice wavering. She’s alone, and unsure whether the Doctor and Mickey survived their foray with the other droids on the ship. If anyone is going to be the Doctor, it has to be her. “What do you want?”

The droid remains silent, unmoving.

“What are you doing here? Why are you watching Reinette?” Rose asks again, confidence building in her voice.

Again, the droid doesn’t speak.

“Answer Rose’s questions,” Reinette demands.

This catches the droid’s attention. It tilts its head towards Reinette, its blade still pointed towards Rose. A small whirring emits from the droid; Rose figures its calculating something. She wishes she had the sonic to figure out what.

“What do you want with Reinette?” Rose asks again, placing her hands on her hips.

The droid speaks in it’s gravelly-digital voice, still looking at Reinette, “We need parts.”

“Parts?” Reinette asks.

“For your spaceship,” Rose says. She squeezes her eyes shut to remember other details she had discovered with the Doctor and Mickey. “That ship’s nothing but scrap now. What happened to it, then?”

“Ion storm,” the droid says, “Eighty-two percent systems failure.”

Rose thinks for a moment, running her thumb along her lips, her mind running a million miles a minute listening to the droid and ignoring the pressure of thinking, what would the doctor do? “You used your crew for parts,” she says; it isn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“But you ran out, didn’t you?” Rose presses. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, before getting too antsy and beginning to walk around the room, circling the droid. It turns on the spot, keeping its blade trained on her. “There wasn’t enough crew to repair the whole ship, and now you’re ripping holes through time and space to find more people.”

“We did not have the parts,” the droid says simply.

“I don’t understand,” Reinette says, “How can people be used as parts of a space-ship.”

“Trust me,” Rose says, “You really don’t wanna know.” She turns back to face the droid. “But if you needed parts, why did you come here? Why eighteenth-century France?”

“One more part is required.”

This take’s Rose aback. “Only one more? Wha. . .” Rose trails off. If she’s impersonating the Doctor at this current moment as well as she thinks, she hates the conclusion she’s coming to. She looks across the room to Reinette.

“What?” Reinette asks, “What is it?”

“Why her?” Rose asks the droid, her tone dark. “All of history, why specifically her?”

The droid looks back at Reinette. The gravel-like nature of its digital voice more prominent than ever as it says, “We are the same.”

Reinette recoils in horror. “We are not the same!” she shouts.

“We are the same,” the droid repeats.

“Reinette, it’s alright-”

“Get out!” Reinette shouts at the droid, “Leave this instant!”

And with a flash of light, the droid teleports away.

Rose exhales, deflating. Her shoulders slump, and she brings a hand to her forehead. “That’s enough of that, then.”

Across from her, Reinette covers her hands with her face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was so scared.”

“Hey,” Rose says, rushing to Reinette’s side. She gives Reinette’s shoulders a comforting squeeze. “It’s alright – really. No one was hurt; that’s all I can ask for.”

“Surely you had more questions for it,” Reinette says, peeking at Rose through her fingers.

Rose shakes her head. “Not as important as keeping you safe. And in one piece,” she says with a smile.

“It was pointing it’s weapon at you, Rose,” Reinette says, bringing her hands down from her face.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me,” Rose says. “All part of the job description.”

“As a fireplace inspector?” Reinette raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

“You’d be surprised what I see in my line of work,” Rose says, loosening her grasp on Reinette’s shoulders. Before Rose can bring her hands back to her sides, Reinette catches one of her hands in her own.

“Rose,” Reinette says, her eyes on their clasped hands. “I was terribly disappointed we didn’t speak at the dance all those years ago.”

Rose’s heart drums in her chest. “Well, you seemed happy enough chatting with the Doctor,” she says pointedly. “Didn’t want to intrude, or anything.”

Reinette brushes her thumb along Rose’s hand, which has Rose’s heart racing in a completely different way to the jealousy burning her veins currently.

“He was a fine gentleman, you know,” Reinette says distractedly. “More than enough enthusiasm I should say.”

Rose scoffs. “You could say that again.”

“He spoke so fondly of you,” Reinette continues, “And I found I couldn’t help but agree with him.”

Rose can hear what Reinette is saying, but she’s too preoccupied with the way Reinette steps closer to her, into her bubble. Their hands still intertwined, Rose worries about the sweat forming on the palm of her hand.

“I want to thank you,” Reinette says, “For saving my life. You’re a dream come true, Rose.”

Reinette leans in, and, without warning, her lips meet Rose’s in a sweet kiss. At first, Rose is shocked, unsure of how to feel or what to do. At the very least, it would be rude not to kiss back. Rose even finds herself placing her other hand along Reinette’s waist.

It is Reinette who pulls away, fluttering her eyes open to look at Rose. She lets go of Rose’s hand to brush a stray piece of hair away from Rose’s face. “Thank you,” Reinette says, her words dancing on her breath. She cups Rose’s cheek, placing another chaste kiss on her lips before stepping back completely, her touch trailing away from Rose’s skin. Reinette turns and rushes out of the room.

Rose’s fingers ghost along her lips, still processing her kiss with Reinette. Her mind is whirring, but no thoughts seem to catch – only the elation of intimacy. It makes her heart stutter and flutter in a way she hasn’t felt since she was a child. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reprimands herself for the jealousy she felt earlier towards Reinette and the Doctor. Was she really so blind?

“Rose!”

Rose jumps at the Doctor’s voice coming through the fireplace.

“Rose, are you alright?” the Doctor calls again.

Rose gives her head a shake, rolling her shoulders back. “Yeah, all good ‘ere!” she calls back, running to the fireplace plate. She kneels down, looking back at the Doctor.

His brows are furrowed in a more aggressive manner than when she last saw him, accompanying the harsh lines settled in his face. His suit is disheveled more so than normal – it’s bunched and wrinkled in odd ways – a clear indication he’s been running and dodging about.

“Where’s Mickey, is he alright?” Rose asks.

“Yeah, I’m still in one piece!” Mickey calls, out of sight from Rose at the hearth.

“How long has it been for you?” Rose asks the Doctor.

“Close to three hours. We passed the time by trying to save our skin, right Mickey?”

Mickey calls back again, “Right!”

“And then we concluded with a bit of investigative work,” the Doctor says. He readjusts in his crouch at the hearth, and with that, his tone darkens. “I think I know what the droids have planned.”

Rose nods, standing from the hearth, placing her hand on the mantle. “You’re not going to believe what I found out,” Rose shouts, hoping the Doctor can hear her as the wall turns. “Had a surprise tea party with Reinette and a clockwork droid. What happened to your face?!”

The Doctor stands in front of her, a thin red line cut horizontal to his cheek bone which, away from the red hues of the fireplace hearth, stands out starkly against the blue chrome of the ship. A thin smear of dried blood adorns the bottom of the cut. Rose reaches out to cup his face, tilting his head to get a better look.

“You’re no better than your mother,” the Doctor says, bringing up a hand to rest on Rose’s arm. “’Tis a flesh wound. Just a scratch.”

With her hands still firmly on the Doctor’s face, she looks to Mickey, who is once again by the control panel. “Are you hiding any injuries I should know about?” she threatens.

“No way,” Mickey says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “The Doctor took that hit for me.”

Rose directs her attention back to the Doctor, running her thumb under the cut. She meets his brown eyes. “Does it hurt?” she asks, softer now.

The Doctor shakes his head. He inhales, his shoulders rising, and snaps away from Rose’s touch. She can’t help the way it scorches her heart. “Now – we’ve got a French aristocrat to save!” he exclaims. “Not a word to the up-and-coming Republic of France.”

*

“Madame de Pompadour?”

Reinette turns in her chair, recognizing the voice of one of her guardian angels. “You’ve returned. I wish there was another dance to coincide with your return, but I’ve been quite poorly these past few months. You won’t tell Rose, will you? I’d hate for her to worry.”

The Doctor steps out of the shadows, pulling out a chair of his own. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Reinette straightens her back, although the Doctor can see that the effort is strenuous. “What brings you back to France, fireplace man?”

“I’ve come to warn you,” the Doctor says, the corners of his mouth downturned.

Reinette frowns. “You’re meant to bring me good luck, not bad premonitions.”

“We haven’t got much time,” the Doctor says, adjusting in his seat to face Reinette dead on. “I’ve come to warn you that those droids – the clockwork droids – they’ll be here for you in five years.”

Reinette’s eyes widen. “Five years? That’s all you can give me?”

“All your life, these droids have been scanning your brain, waiting for you to match the age of their ship. Whatever they need you for, they need you to be of age. That’s when they believe you’ll be compatible.”

Reinette thinks a moment. “Five years . . . I’ll only be thirty-seven.”

The Doctor reaches out a hand. “That’s why we’re warning you know. We don’t know exactly when, but sometime after your thirty-seventh birthday, they’ll come for you. And when they do, you call us. Through the fireplace. We’ll be there.”

“Will I see you again before then? Or Rose?” Reinette asks. The Doctor notes the hint of desperation in her voice.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Reinette. This time window, this portal between this world and the world these droids come from – it’s unstable. We have no way of controlling it.”

Reinette’s shoulders tense, and she rises suddenly from the table. “Then you must take me to her,” Reinette says, her knuckles white from gripping the table to keep herself up right.

The Doctor rushes to her side to support her. “You’ve been unwell, Reinette. Let me bring Rose to you.”

“Take me to the fireplace,” Reinette says. She meets the Doctor’s eyes, and while she’s been ill for some time, the Doctor can’t deny the ferocity in her eyes.

*

Reinette sits on her bed behind the Doctor, propped up by a variety of pillows. He’s crouched at the fireplace, speaking quietly to Rose.

The wall clicks, and Rose spins into the room. The Doctor waves at Mickey, who waits for them at the hearth, before retreating to a corner of the room, giving Rose and Reinette space.

Rose sits at the edge of Reinette’s bed. “I heard you put a request in for me,” Rose jokes, taking Reinette’s hand in hers.

“Your companion says we are running out of time,” Reinette says, forcing a smile to her face.

“We’ll stop them, Reinette,” Rose assures her, “I swear. The Doctor and I have a plan. When you call for us, we’ll be there.”

“And if you are not?” Reinette says, her words sharp and cold. “Do you know how long I’ve prayed for your return, how I’ve wished for you to come back?” she continues.

Rose frowns, shaking her head.

“I sit at the fireplace calling for you, hoping to see my guardian angels again,” Reinette says, swallowing thickly.

Rose turns to face the Doctor, who’s expression mirrors the confusion of her own. Loose connection, he mouths. She turns back to face Reinette.

“We’ll be there when you need us. There’s nothing more we can do, I’m sorry,” Rose apologizes, pressing her lips together.

Reinette breaks eye contact with Rose, looking around her room. She catches the Doctor’s gaze from the back of the room. “This vessel that presses the days of my life together like the chapters of a book, so that you may step from one to another without aging while I, a weary traveller, must always take the slower path.”

Rose focuses on Reinette, not turning to see the Doctor’s non-verbal reply. She tries to shake off the similarity of Reinette’s words to those of the Doctor back at the café. Back when they were with Sarah Jane. “When they come,” Rose says eventually, hoping to get the conversation back on track, “they’ll likely break the clocks in the palace. The way they did when you were little, to hide in plain sight. That’s when you call us.”

“And if you don’t arrive? If you don’t hear our cries for help? Our screams as these monsters threaten us?” Reinette stops, catching her breathe. Rose figures she really must have been ill if this was enough to tire her. Reinette inhales deeply, then continues, more calmly, “This is how it will always be; I cannot have you without the monsters. That’s something you aren’t unfamiliar with, is it, Rose? One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.”

Rose leans back from Reinette, taking her hand away. “Those creatures are messing with history,” Rose says, her voice shaky, “your history. This was never meant to happen.”

“None of it?” Reinette asks. “Not even meeting you?”

Rose shakes her head.

“Rose,” the Doctor says quietly from the corner. “We’ve gotta go.”

Rose stands from the edge of the bed, and hurries to join the Doctor, who is now waiting at the fireplace. She stands at his side, not an inch of space between them. The Doctor’s hand instinctually moves to rest on Rose’s waist.

“Get ready, Mickey,” the Doctor says into the hearth.

The Doctor presses the button on the mantle, and the wall clicks as the piece spins.

Both the Doctor and Rose miss the expression of realization spread across Reinette’s face, which quickly morphs into hurt, and then, somehow worse: devastation.

“Did you have enough time to get the dress from the TARDIS?” the Doctor asks, hopping off the plate before the wall clicks into place.

Rose nods. “Will I even have enough time to pull it on?” she asks, grabbing it from where she abandoned it on the floor. “It’s huge!”

“Just hurry,” the Doctor urges, “I don’t know how much time we’ll have. Mickey –” the Doctor redirects his attention, “Control panel ready?”

“Locked and loaded, boss,” Mickey says from his chair.

“Good. Once Rose and I are in France, hit the scrambler. Every moment that time window has observed will cycle through, flipping like pages in a book. Eventually the energy of those cycles will counteract the energy used to create the time window in the first place and voila!” the Doctor outstretches his arms. “No more time window, Reinette safe and sound!”

“You’re really counting on all the repair droids being with Reinette when they attack?” Rose asks, squirming and wiggling through the many layers of the dress the TARDIS provided her.

The Doctor bounces over, helping her sort through the layers. “I know it. They’re desperate for her brain, Rose – this ship is still missing its command circuit. They've spent all this time hopping through her timeline, waiting for the right moment to strike. And they know we’ll be after them. They won’t risk it.”

“Have we ever figured out why they need her brain specifically?” Mickey asks from his chair.

The Doctor groans. “Not exactly, but that’s not top priority right now. Better?” he asks Rose, who is now settled into the skirts of the dress; the neckline of her t-shirt peeking through the cut of the dress.

“Good as it’s going to get,” Rose says. “And now we wait?”

“Now we-”

“Rose!” Reinette’s voice comes through the fireplace.

Mickey smirks. “There’s your cue.”

“Are you there? Can you hear me?” Reinette’s voice echoes through the ship. “I need you know. You promised!”

The Doctor skids to stop at the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantle. “We’re here, Reinette. Stand back a minute.”

Reinette moves back from the fireplace as she says, “And Rose?”

“I’m here!” Rose calls out, heaving her skirts up to join the Doctor. The Doctor offers out his other hand to help Rose up.

The wall clicks and the Doctor and Rose are once again in eighteenth-century France. Screams echo throughout the palace, and distantly the Doctor and Rose can hear the mechanics of the droids. “Happy belated birthday, Reinette!” the Doctor greets her.

“What is it you’ll have me do?” Reinette asks.

The Doctor steps off the fireplace first, stopping and turning to hold out his hand again to help Rose down.

“Remind me to never wear this type of skirt again,” she says, taking the Doctor’s hand.

The Doctor bends to shout through the hearth, “Now, Mickey!” He stands again, his arm wrapped around Rose’s torso. “We’re on the countdown, now. Rose, you know what to do. Reinette, you’re coming with me.” The Doctor leaves Rose’s side to join Reinette. “We’ve got to hide.”

Rose perks up, “Wait what about-”

“Oh, right,” the Doctor reaches into his inner jacket pocket, and pulls out a key on a long piece of twine. Attached to one side of the key is a small black box melded together with random bobbles the Doctor found in his pocket. He tosses the key to Rose. “Remember – inconspicuous!”

“Inconspicuous!” Rose exclaims.

“Oh,” Reinette says, handing Rose a costume eye mask. “It’s a costume party. Hide your face with this.”

Rose takes the mask from Reinette. “You catch on fast!” Rose says.

Reinette can only smile.

Rose looks to the Doctor who’s dancing on his toes, waiting to escort Reinette away from the action.

The Doctor is frowning. “Be careful. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You better,” Rose says, the lightness in her tone dying on her lips as she watches the Doctor lead Reinette out of the bedroom. Rose lifts the key above her head and sets it around her neck, then ties the mask around her head to hide her face. With both the mask and the perception filter, she’s confident this plan will go off without a hitch. She counts to fifteen, hoping the Doctor could get the real Reinette far enough away. She straightens her shoulders, clasping her hands in front of her skirts, and as daintily as she can, she walks out of the room, down the corridors. Her heart hammers in her ears as the screams of the other castle members grow louder, more distressed.

It isn’t long before Rose meets a pair of the clockwork droids.

“You are complete,” the one says, “You will come.”

*

“Everyone calm down, please,” Rose, pretending to be Reinette, says as the droid leads her to the center of the ballroom. She needs to be believable not only to the droids, but also to the crowd. And if their plan is going to work, she needs this crowd to cooperate, stay out of the way, make sure no one accidentally gets hurt. “What noise! Such a commotion,” Rose really doesn’t know if she’s selling it, “Kindly remember that this is Versailles,” Rose really hopes she’s remembering her history lessons correctly. “This is the royal court, and we are French,” the words sound cliché and corny to her own ears. She turns to the two droids behind her. “I’ve made my decision, and my decision is no. I shall not be going with you today.”

It's not what the droids want to hear; each reaches out a hand and catches each of Rose’s shoulders in an iron grip and point their blades at her neck. Her stomach drops, and she tries very hard not to let it scare her.

Keep them talking. They’re programmed to answer to you.

“You think I fear you,” Rose says, “but I do not fear you even now. You are merely a nightmare of my childhood. Monsters from under the bed. If my nightmare can return to plague me, then rest assured, so will yours.” Rose looks up at the balcony of the ballroom, and sees the Doctor waiting for his cue.

He jumps from the balcony, clutching a huge drapery that allows him to swing down to the marble flooring. The crowd gasps, making room for him. His landing is not nearly as graceful as how he’ll recount it to Mickey when they get back on the ship; his one foot slides out from under him, and he twists to keep from landing arse-first on the marble.

The Doctor lets go of the drape and stands up tall. He meets Rose’s gaze and greets her, “Madame de Pompadour. You look younger every day.”

If the Doctor was in arms reach, Rose would have smacked him for that.

A man steps forward from the crowd. He’s in a powdered wig, a rust-coloured coat, and the white of his stockings is, in Rose’s opinion, rather blinding. “Excuse me. What the hell is going on?”

Confusion flickers across the Doctor’s face. “I’m sorry, who might you be?”

“King Louis XV of France.”

Rose jumps in, now knowing who the man is. “The King of France,” she says, gesturing to Louis. “My lover.” A playful glint gleams in her eyes.

“Yeah?” the Doctor says, sizing up King Louis, giving him a once over. “Well, I’m the Lord of Time.” The Doctor steps towards Rose. One of the droids around her points its blade at the Doctor.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the Doctor says, pulling out a controller from his front jacket pocket. “Leave Madame de Pompadour in peace, or I deactivate you all.”

The droids step back from Rose, watching the Doctor intently. The crowd of French aristocrats eye the metal box in the Doctor’s hand, completely unfamiliar with such technology. Rose bites at her cheek to keep from giggling.

“Trying to teleport away?” the Doctor pushes. “That’s thanks to my friend Mickey Smith. You remember Mickey. You tried cutting him up into pieces a couple hours ago.”

The droids step back again, the cogs in their bodies turning and clicking and whirring away.

The Doctor relaxes his head back, eyeing the droids. “You’re stuck,” he clicks his tongue. “No way home.” Without looking at the controller in his hand, the Doctor presses a button in the lower right quadrant, and the droids go slack. "Your job is finished."

Rose sighs in relief, looking up at the Doctor, who is beaming right back at her. “Sir Doctor?” Rose says.

“Dame Rose,” he replies, offering his hand to her Rose gladly takes it, standing to her feet. She reaches for her mask, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground as the crowd gossips quietly amongst themselves, still making sense of the commotion before them. Rose reaches for the twine around her neck, pulling the key above her head, and handing the makeshift necklace back to the Doctor.

“You’re not –” the King of France stammers.

“’fraid not,” Rose says with an apologetic smile. “Just a stand in.”

“Your Reinette, the real Reinette, is hiding in a closet near her bedroom,” the Doctor explains. “She’s perfectly safe.”

“You may see for yourself, lover,” Reinette says, walking into the ballroom. The crowd raises in volume again, witnessing the jewels glitter on Reinette’s skirts.

“Reinette,” the King of France says, racing towards her and kissing her ferociously.

The Doctor leans down to whisper in Rose’s ear, “You’re okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, not a scratch,” Rose whispers back. “Which is better than what you can say.” She reaches up a hand to trace the nearly-healed scratch on his cheek.

“Rose,” Reinette says, now happily reunited with the King of France. “I thank you and your companion for your acts of bravery. I invite you to stay with our court so we may present you with a handsome reward for saving my life.”

“We’d love to stay Reinette, really,” the Doctor says, “but Rose and I have got to run. It’s been a pleasure.” He grabs Rose’s hand and whisks her out of the ballroom. Rose can barely keep her skirts up high enough to avoid tripping.

“Slow down, slow down, I’m still in a dress!” Rose exclaims as the Doctor races through the corridors.

The Doctor doesn’t stop; instead, he says, “we’ve got a minute, max, to get back to the ship before the time window closes.”

“You love cutting it close, don’t you!” she laughs behind him.

“More fun that way!” the Doctor exclaims, nearly kicking the door to Reinette’s room open. He leads Rose to the fireplace, which is flickering and sparking with blue electricity.

“We’re going to be singed!” Rose yells over the noise, hiding by the Doctor’s side.

The Doctor ducks as a spark goes off by his head. He’s pressing the button at the edge of the mantle repeatedly. “C’mon!” he exclaims. “Bloody loose connection.”

“Rose!”

Rose looks across the room and sees Reinette, her eyes wide.

“Reinette!” Rose calls, gripping the Doctor’s sides to stay balanced on the fireplace plate. “Stay back, it’s not safe!”

“Please don’t leave!” Reinette cries over the noise of the time window.

The Doctor slams the mantle with his fist, startling Rose. “Turn, come on, turn!”

Reinette protests again, “I’ll never see you again! My guardian angel!”

“I’ll see you again, Reinette,” Rose shouts, gripping the sides of the Doctor’s jacket. “You’ll see. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Reinette shakes her head. “I don’t believe you!”

The Doctor shifts beside Rose, taking out his sonic screwdriver in a desperate attempt to get the bloody fireplace to turn. He sonics all along the mantle, cursing under his breath.

Rose’s heart skips a beat, watching Reinette plead for her not to go. Rose watches the Doctor, sonicing the wood panelling of the mantle. She doesn’t know what comes over her as she loosens her grip on the Doctor’s jacket and steps away.

“Rose, hold on!” the Doctor shouts. “I’ve nearly-”

Rose steps off the fireplace plate, lifting her skirts to run to Reinette.

“Rose!” the Doctor yells, seeing her move away from the corner of his eye.

The wall clicks.

Rose drops her skirts and cups Reinette’s face with her hands, bringing Reinette’s lips to hers. Reinette melts at Rose’s touch, wrapping her hands around Rose’s wrists, tying her to the spot.

“Rose, we’re moving!” the Doctor shouts, his hearts threatening to beat out of his chest as he grips the now-moving mantle.

Rose pulls away from Reinette for breath. “I’m sorry,” Rose says, turning back to the fireplace. She attempts to run, but Reinette’s grip on her wrist doesn’t falter. “Let go,” Rose says, barely loud enough for her to hear her own voice. Her heart leaps into her throat as she pulls at her hand. “Reinette, please!”

“Rose!” the Doctor screams, dragging out her name in some desperate attempt to make the spinning of the fireplace slow, in some way to bring her closer to him so he can grab her hand and pull her across with him.

Rose manages to rip her wrist free of Reinette’s grip and races to lift her skirts and run to the fireplace. She can barely see the Doctor’s face as he spins around, back to the fifty-first century.

As Rose reaches the fireplace, the wall clicks in place. The sparking stops, the noise ceases. The room is quiet except for Rose’s breathing. Her chest heaves as she stares at the unmoving fireplace. She can’t bring herself to look through the hearth only to see nothing back. A part of her waits to hear the Doctor’s voice, hell, even Mickey’s voice, come through the other side, telling her how to get back.

“I couldn’t-” Reinette begins quietly, behind Rose. “I couldn’t lose you again.”

Rose doesn’t know how to force her breathing to remain steady as she turns to face Reinette.

“It’s not fair,” Reinette says, shaking her head. Rose can see the tears falling down Reinette’s face. “It’s not fair that I’ve been stuck here, on the slow path, while you get to chase the stars with your companion.”

“He’s not my companion,” Rose says, her voice monotone. “He’s the Doctor. He’s my best friend.”

“But I loved you,” Reinette admits. Her voice is quiet and simple and honest. Her words sink in Rose’s stomach. “I loved you, and you left me. Again, and again, and again. When would I ever have you for you? Without the monsters waiting under the bed, behind the curtain?”

Rose doesn’t know what to say; she doesn’t know how to start without shouting and cursing and screaming at Reinette for what she’s done.

“But look.” Reinette says quietly. “We can be together now. On the slow path. Together.”

Reinette’s words are like ice down Rose’s back. She doesn’t want the slow path; she’s tired of the slow path. Nineteen years experience she had on the slow path, but then she met the Doctor. That’s when her life really began. When she felt free to fly across the stars, free from the chains binding her home. Rose doesn’t know how she could ever go back to the slow path. The only way she’d ever consider it would be-

“The Doctor will come back for me,” Rose says sternly. “He’ll be here.” It’s all she says as she brushes past Reinette to get out of the room. She stops outside the threshold and looks back at Reinette. She says, “Go enjoy your party. The King of France is waiting.”

*

Rose sits in a quiet room away from the commotion of the ballroom at the other side of the palace. She ditched the frilly costume from the TARDIS, preferring to lounge in her regular t-shirt and jeans. In France, it is well past midnight, and the stars shine brightly above them. Rose stares out the window of the room, at a loss as to how she can soothe the ache of being separated from the Doctor. She can't be solely mad at Reinette; yes Reinette was the one to hold her back, but it was Rose who stepped away from the fireplace first. She was the one to give Reinette hope. She told Reinette that he would be coming back, but Rose isn’t so sure. She knows there are rules to time travel, and she knows that this particular event in history has already been tampered with extensively. She doesn’t know if the Doctor would risk coming back once more to save her. She doesn’t know when, or if, she’ll ever see him again.

She has nothing in France: no life, no money, no family. She’s all alone, nowhere to go. Distantly, she wonders if this is how the Doctor felt after the Time War, after there was nothing left to return to. But even then, he still had his TARDIS.

Speaking of the TARDIS, Rose wonders why Reinette was still speaking English when the time window collapsed in on itself. The connection to the fifty-first century, and therefore the TARDIS was severed, so how could she-

The door to the room opens, and Rose turns in her seat to see who it is.

“Did a Miss Rose Tyler call for a taxi?” the Doctor asks, adopting a Hollywood-esque accent. Rose can’t see his face in the dark; the light from the hall shadowing him completely. But Rose can see his long overcoat curling at his ankles as he brushes back the coat to hide his hands in his trouser pockets.

Rose is smiles wide. She hops out of the chair and runs to greet the Doctor, hugging him against her tightly. “You came back,” she says into the cloth of is coat.

He wraps his arms around her, his hands solid against her back; a sure reminder that he’s here and he’s real. “Of course I came back for you!” he exclaims. “What’s a little time travel here and there?”

Rose pulls away slightly to look at his face, not that she can see much of it. “I thought we were part of events now,” she says, “You can’t go back on your own timeline.”

“I think you’re forgetting one very important detail,” the Doctor says, staring into her eyes.

Rose tilts her head. “What’s that, then?”

“I’m very good,” the Doctor says. He lets his hands drop from around Rose and favours to take her hand in his, leading her out of the room. “And we had to clean up those droids. Don’t need that technology running around eighteenth-century France. And with the Revolution coming up,” the Doctor makes a sound of concern. “C’mon. Mickey’s waiting.”

*

The TARDIS is parked outside the ballroom, where jovial music continues to play and people laugh and chat away. The noise is enough to make Rose’s stomach sour.

The Doctor takes out his key to unlock the TARDIS doors when a pile of skirts runs up to them. The Doctor looks up from the TARDIS, then down to Rose.

Rose pats him on the arm. “Give us a mo’,” she says, stepping away from the TARDIS. Rose approaches Reinette, who looks at her sadly.

“I’m sorry, Reinette,” Rose says. “I was rude, and scared-”

“Nonsense,” Reinette says. “It is I who should apologize to you. You’ve done so much for me, all throughout my life. Trapping you here is no way to reward you for your efforts.”

Rose grabs Reinette’s hand, brushing her thumb across Reinette’s knuckles.

Reinette inhales sharply, “And I see that however big your heart is, it belongs to someone else.” She looks back at the Doctor, who stands by the TARDIS doors, waiting for Rose.

Rose turns to look at the Doctor over her shoulder. There’s a lot between the two of them, some things she needs to sort out. They need to work through. Together.

“I just hope,” Reinette continues, “That I’ll get to see you again? At least once? Make the slow path more bearable?”

Rose nods. “Promise” she says. She leans in, bringing her lips to Reinette’s for a goodbye kiss. Rose lets her lips linger, giving Reinette something to remember her by.

Rose steps back to the Doctor, who holds the TARDIS door open, ushering her in. Rose looks back at Reinette one last time before entering the TARDIS properly.

The Doctor waves at Reinette before quickly following Rose into the TARDIS. He shrugs off his overcoat, tossing it in between the branches of the coral strut. He races around the console, and hits the handbrake, sending them into the vortex.

Rose throws out her arms to keep her balance, watching the Doctor turn dials on the console. She bites at her lip before approaching him.

“Doctor?” she asks slowly.

“Hmm?” he hums, not taking his eyes away from the console.

Rose leans against the console. “D’you think . . . could I see Reinette? One more time?”

The Doctor looks up at her now. “As a goodbye?”

Rose nods.

“Okay,” the Doctor says. His voice is oddly light as he enters the coordinates.

Mickey sits on the jump seat, his eyes darting from the Doctor to Rose. “Whatcha going back for? I thought she tried trapping you in France?”

“We made up, Mick,” Rose says quietly, turning away from the console. She waits for the Doctor to land by the railing by the ramp.

The TARDIS groans, and the Doctor says, still in that too-light tone of his, “You have reached your destination.”

Rose slowly walks down the ramp, the grating rattling beneath her feet. She doesn’t know why she feels so hesitant, her hand hovering at the door. Distantly, she hears Mickey complaining that his stomach is grumbling, and that he’s off to the galley for dinner.

Rose looks over her shoulder at the Doctor, who watches her with patient, sad eyes. She can’t place why he wears the expression with such a heavy burden.

She steps out of the TARDIS into Reinette’s room. A few of the candles are lit, but the night outside is dark and cloudy. A heavy rain rattles against the windows.

“Reinette?” Rose timidly calls out. “It’s Rose. I came back.”

A man sulks into the room with Rose. He stands by the threshold of the door.

“Oh, hello,” Rose says. “Is Reinette around?”

“You just missed her,” the man, who Rose now recognizes as King Louis XV by his voice, says. His voice is quiet, lacking all energy. He sounds tired. “She’ll be in Paris by six.”

“Ah.”

The King looks at Rose and has to do a double-take. “Good lord,” he says. “She was right. You don’t look a day older.” The King moves to a table in the room, opening the drawer. “It’s been so many years since I saw you last, but not a day of it on your face.”

Rose is unsure whether to take the King’s words as a compliment when he hands her a sealed envelope. The paper is heavy and thick in Rose’s hand.

“She spoke of you many times. She prayed you’d visit again. How she missed you, so,” the King dawdles on, clasping his hands behind his back to look out the window. Rose looks too, seeing a black carriage leaving Versailles.

“She was only forty-three when she died,” the King says, his words choked in his throat. “Too young. It was illness that took her, in the end. Always worked too hard.”

Rose struggles to keep up with the King’s words. She looks down at the envelope, like lead, in her hands. She rips open the seal, her eyes scanning Reinette’s handwriting.

“She never wanted you to know,” the King says. “Said you were much too busy saving her from monsters.” The King gestures to the letter. “What does she say?”

Rose’s eyes don’t leave the page; she merely shakes her head.

The King gives a solemn nod. “Of course. Quite right.”

Rose finally looks up, her eyes wet with tears. The King gives her a pitiful look. She sniffs, “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’ll jus’ . . .” she points at the TARDIS, turning to run and escape from this dreary day in eighteenth-century France.

*

Rose slams the TARDIS door behind her, leaning against them, staring at the words of Reinette’s letter. Her fingers dig into the parchment, crumpling the paper at its edges.

She doesn’t notice the Doctor who still stands at the console. The TARDIS groans and hums, and Rose is vaguely aware that he’s sent them back into the vortex.

“Why her?” It’s Mickey again; he must be done in the galley. “Why did they think they could repair the ship with the head of Madame de Pompadour?”

The Doctor sighs. “We’ll probably never know. There was massive damage in the computer memory banks we found. The droids probably got confused. But,” the Doctor says, walking around the console, pulling at his ear. “What’s done is done. We can call it a day, I think. Human history remains intact another day.” The Doctor pauses; Rose doesn’t realize the degree of concern with which he stares at her. Her eyes are glued to the page, rereading Reinette’s words over and over again. “Quite a first adventure, hey Mickey?” the Doctor says, his words projecting all around the TARDIS.

“Beyond anything I could’ve imagined, mate,” Mickey says. “You two do that sort of thing all the time?”

“Well, when we come across it. Which for us, happens to be more often than not.”

The Doctor and Mickey’s voices fade in Rose’s mind as she mentally trips and stumbles over Reinette’s handwriting.

My dear Rose,

The path has never seemed more slow, and yet I fear I am nearing its end. I have been ill for so long now. I apologize for keeping it from you. I never wanted you to worry. As much as I pray for your final return, reason tells me that you and I are unlikely to meet again. As foolish as it may seem, I think I shall not listen to reason. Knowing you was a greater blessing than the warmth of the sun.

Hurry, my love. My days grow shorter now, and I am so very weak.

I await your graceful presence, my guardian angel.

“Everything alright?” the Doctor asks, still standing at the console.

Rose looks up at him, tears trailing down her cheeks and fire in her eyes.

*