Chapter Text
As quickly as the silence came, the noise returned tenfold, deafening in its force. Gold still poured out of the Doctor, slamming into everything around him. Sparks flew as the Tardis took the brunt of it, her walls shuddering under the onslaught. I staggered back as she rocked violently, smoke curling through the air, small fires sparking to life. My heart broke at the sight. I tried to steady myself, but the floor heaved beneath me, throwing me about. Dizziness took hold, the world spinning sickeningly, and through the haze I caught a glimpse of the Doctor—he wasn’t faring much better.
‘Sweetheart, I’ve got legs!’ A voice calls out, relief heavy in his tone. This is not going to be like last time, I hope.
‘Arms and hands too,’ he continues. ‘Ears, yes! Eyes, yes! Nose, I’ve had worse. Chin, blimey! Hair, I’m a girl.’ He cries out, a jumble of emotions spilling through every word.
‘No, not a girl. That’s a relief, isn’t it sweetheart!’ He spins to face me, ‘Still not ginger.’ He pouts but it’s a different pout.
‘Sweetheart?’ He asks when I don’t answer.
I feel my eye rolls back into my head and I tumble to the floor as the Tardis rocks again.
I blink awake, a strange buzzing alive under my skin. I’m outside now, leaning against the Tardis—only she’s on her side.
“Old Girl?” I whisper across the bond, but I’m met with silence. Panic rises sharp in my chest. No Doctor, and the Tardis quiet. How badly did things go wrong?
‘Rose! You’re awake!’ A voice jolts me out of my spiral.
‘Doctor?’ I rasp, dazed.
The Cloister Bell tolls, deep and terrible. Panic swells again as I struggle to move.
A little girl with ginger hair pops up from behind The Doctor. ‘Are you alright?’ She asks in a heavy Scottish tone.
‘Just fine, sweetheart.’ I manage, though it comes out around a pained groan.
‘Come on, sweetheart. We need to get back inside and stabilise you both.’ He scoops me up and places me on what should be the Tardis's entrance floor. ‘Hang in tight!’
‘Geronimo!’ He shouts, pushing us off the ledge into the Tardis.
We land in a heap on the pilot’s chair. My head spins, the fuzz refusing to clear.
The Doctor eases me down gently before dashing to the console, hands flying, trying to stabilise her. We’re tossed about violently; I cling to the chair with the last of my strength.
‘Come on, Old Girl! We need to go back, I figured it out.’ The Doctor urges, sparks flying from the console.
‘Go back where?’ I demand hoarsely. ‘We're in no state to help anyone!’ I cry out.
‘She’s a little girl, Rose. We have to help her.’
I waver, because I can never say no when he uses that tone. Something in it—steady, familiar—settles me instantly. I nod, and he turns back to the console, setting us back on course.
We land with a harsh thud. He’s already out the door, calling for Amelia.
“Wolf?” The Tardis's voice reaches me, faint and pained.
“I’m here!” I whisper back.
“There is much work to be done, you cannot stay.” She says sadly. “I give you this until you can return.” A golden light engulfs me, and the dizziness ebbs away, leaving me steadier.
“Thanks, Old Girl.” I pour love and gratitude into the bond, then quickly leave.
The Doctor’s voice carries from the house we’ve landed before. I hurry up the steps—just in time to see a young woman strike him with a cricket bat.
'Oi!’ I shout, racing up the remaining stairs. Bad Wolf hums sharp under my skin, ready to rise at the threat. The fear in her eyes makes me pause. I force a deep breath, reminding myself—we’re probably not welcome here.
I kneel at the Doctor’s side, relief loosening my chest when I see he’s only unconscious.
The woman stares at me, clutching the bat.
‘Who are you?’ she demands.
Standing, I put myself between her and the Doctor. She’s a leggy redhead, Scottish from the sound of her voice. Is this the little girl? I glance back at the Doctor. 'Told you so', I mutter under my breath.
'I'm Rose and this is The Doctor. It seems we're very late, which is a very long story and I don't know most of it.'
'No, you can't be.' She shakes her head, dropping the bat. 'It can't be.' She mutters to herself.
'So, you are Amelia then?' I ask softly.
She nods, about to confirm when the Doctor groans from the floor.
'Cricket bat! I'm getting cricket bat.' He moans, pushing himself up against the wall.
'You alright down there?' I ask, not bothering to hide my smugness.
'Much better, thanks. Brand new head, just what it needed.' He bounces to his feet, full of energy.
'Who are you?' He asks suddenly, looking past me and spotting Amelia. 'What are you doing here? Where's Amelia?' He asks.
'Amelia Pond?' She asks. I should intervene, but I’m feeling steadier now and this looks too fun to spoil. Leaning against the railings, I shoot Amelia a wink, encouraging her.
'Yeah, Amelia, little Scottish girl, where is she? I promised her five minutes - but the engines were phasing, I suppose I must have gone a bit far --' His expression turns troubled, his eyes darting to mine. 'Has something happened to her?'
'How long?' he demands, glancing at me with concern.
'Six months.' Amelia says.
'Okay, that's enough!' I exclaim, 'You aren't just a few hours late, you're at least 10 years late.' I tell him.
'More like 12.' Amelia admits sheepishly.
'Oh,' is all The Doctor says, sadness dripping from his tone.
'Love?' I prompt after a moment of silence. His head snaps up, eyes full of worry again. Frowning, I reach out, pressing my hand to his forehead. 'Are you okay, love? Do you need a cuppa?' Worry building.
He shakes himself, brushing it off. 'Just fine, sweetheart.' But his tone is off. Too forced. 'I need my sonic and for Amelia to tell me how many rooms this floor has.' He spins in a circle.
I glance around, not seeing the sonic anywhere. I’m about to check if he even brought it when Amelia blurts, 'Why?'
'Because it will change your life.' The Doctor says, serious now.
Amelia points as she counts each room, 'Four. One, two, three, four.'
'Five.' Me and The Doctor say together.
'Five?' She asks, shocked.
'Look!' I insists gently.
'Look where?' She whispers, fear edging her tone.
'Exactly where you don't want to look - where you never want to. The corner of your eye. Look behind you.' The Doctor instructs.
'That's ... that's not possible. How's that possible..' Amelia stammers, backing away.
'There's a perception filter all round the door.' I tell her.
'Sensed it the last time I was here - should've seen it. I wasn't ready, I'm still not!' The Doctor adds.
'But that's a whole room. That's a whole room I've never even noticed.' Amelia says in awe.
'The filter stops you noticing. Something came here a while ago, to hide. It's still hiding.' The Doctor explains.
'Why hasn't it attacked before now then?' I wonder out loud.
'Always asking the right questions, sweetheart.' He exclaims, shooting me another concerned look.
'Whats wrong?' I ask softly, stepping closer to him.
'Are you upset with me? For changing?' His voice is hesitant, almost fearful.
'Of course not.' I say firmly. 'Why would you say that?'
'You're blocking me?' He asks like it’s a question.
Frowning, I reach for our bond—but it’s hidden, tucked away, like in another room. The same when I reach for the Tardis.
'Not my doing, I promise.' I say softly, running my hand through his hair. 'It’s you regenerating, and the Old Girl repairing herself. We’re all just scrambled.’
'Yeah, makes sense.' He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine, and I can’t help but notice he’s shorter this time. A giggle escapes me before I can stop it.
'What?' He asks, but he’s smiling now.
'That thing you was looking for, - silver, blue at the end?' Amelia’s voice cuts in, breaking the moment.
Dread spikes through me as I realise she’s not where she was. 'Amelia! Get out of there!' I shout, spinning around.
'Must have rolled under the door.' The Doctor mutters.
'Yeah. Must have. And then it must have jumped up on the table'
'Get out of there.' We both yell, rushing forward—just as a scream rings out. Amelia bolts back through the door.
We huddle by it, the Doctor smacking and muttering at the sonic while Amelia clutches my arm.
'Will that door hold it?’ she asks, panicked.
‘Oh yeah, course,’ The Doctor says sarcastically. ‘It’s an interdimensional multi-form from outer space—they’re all terrified of wood.’ He bangs the sonic again. ‘Come on, what’s the bad alien done to you?’
‘What’s that? What’s it doing?’ Amelia yelps as the door glows white.
I step forward, instinct flaring, ready to shield them both.
And wham!
The door explodes inward, torn clean off its frame, crashing to the floor with a deafening bang. I finch back, The Doctors hand landing on its usual place on my hip, grounding me.
A shape lumbers forward, awkward and unsettling. A man. And a dog.
The man is huge, weighed down by a rumpled romper-suit of overalls. His face is broad and round, fixed in a dazed, vacant smile that never reaches his eyes. One thick hand grips a lead, and on the end of it—a massive dog, sleek and sharp like a doberman.
They halt together, man and beast in eerie unison. I hear Amy’s breath hitch beside me.
They stand there in the doorway, staring back at us, blank and unnatural. And in that moment, I feel it down to my bones—we’re not facing a man and his pet. We’re staring at something wearing them both like masks. Masks it’s got wrong, by the looks of it.
'But it's just - ...' Amelia stutters, confused.
'No, it isn't.' I correct.
'Look at the faces.' The Doctor insists.
'It's just a man and a dog.'
'Look at the faces!' The Doctor exclaims.
A long, muttering growl rumbles from the dog. It builds into a bark—but something’s not right. The sound isn’t coming from the dog at all. It’s coming from the man.
Amelia seems to have noticed, as she shouts over the barking, 'What ... sorry, but what... ?'
'It’s all one creature—one creature disguised as two,' the Doctor explains quickly. ‘Clever old multi-form. Bit of a rush job, though. Got the voice muddled, didn’t you? Mind you, where d’you get the pattern from? You’d need a psychic link, a live feed. How’d you fix that?’
'What's it going to do to us?' Amy asks, fear creeping in.
'A bad thing, it's usually a bad thing.' He addresses the creature directly, 'Stay boy! Her and me, we're safe. Want to know why? She sent for back up!'
'What back-up?' Amelia demands.
'I know, that was a clever lie to save our lives.' I can almost hear the eye roll, 'Okay, yeah, no back-up - and that's why we're safe. Alone we're not a threat to you. If we had back up, then you'd have to kill us.'
A booming voice shakes the house from outside: 'Attention Prisoner Zero. The human residence is surrounded. Attention Prisoner Zero. The human residence is surrounded.'
'Just what we need.' I mutter with an eye roll.
'What was that?' Amelia cries.
'Well. That would be back-up. Okay, one more time - we do have back- up, and that's definitely why we're safe.' The Doctor says.
'Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence, or the human residence will be incinerated.' The voice booms again.
'Safe apart from, you know, incineration.' I add.
With the creature distracted, I grab them both by the arms. ‘Now run!’ I shout, shoving them ahead of me.
We dash outside. The Doctor makes straight for the Tardis. ‘Oh no, no, don’t do that—not now! She’s still rebuilding, not letting us in,’ he says sadly, turning to me with hope in his eyes. ‘Rose?’
'Sorry, love. She won't let me in either.'
'Repeat: Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence, or the human residence will be incinerated.' The voice blares again.
'Why are you dressed as a police woman?' The Doctor suddenly asks, turning to Amelia.
'It was this or a French maid.' She grits out, face red with embarrassment.
I snort, 'Come on, we need to look around. We need more help.'
'This way!' Amelia calls, darting off.
We both stop—but clearly for different reasons. The Doctor stares at an ice-cream van, the same warning blaring from its speakers.
'Repeat: Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence, or the human residence will be incinerated.'
Me? I stop because I’m pretty sure Ross is here. He gives me a sheepish wave and a little shrug. Rolling my eyes, I think—I don’t have time for this mystery today.
'Hi, Rose.' He says sheepishly.
'Hi.' I draw out, 'Off duty today?' I ask, noting his not in his UNIT uniform.
'Went freelance.' He said with a sly smile.
'Sure.' I say with an eye roll.
'This way, sweetheart!' The Doctor calls as he runs past, 'And Ross, apparently.'
'Future selves at work again.' I comment casually.
'Where are we going?' I ask as run through the park towards a house.
The Doctor crashes through someone's front door before I can stop him. 'Could have at least knocked.' I mutter as we come to a stop in the living room.
'Hello, sorry to burst in, we're doing a special on television faults in this area.' The Doctor declares, turning to Amelia 'Also crimes. Let's have a look then ...'
'I was just about to phone, it's on every channel.' An elderly woman says.
The Doctor picks up the remote and starts flicking through channels, I turn to lady and actually introduce ourselves. 'I'm Rose and this is my husband The Doctor.'
'Nice to meet you dear.' She says before turning to Amelia, 'Hello, Amy, dear. Are you a policewoman now?'
'Well - sometimes.' Amy says, vaguely.
'I thought you were a nurse.' She continues, sound confused.
'I can be a nurse.' Amy confirms, cheeks reddening.
'Or actually, a nun.' She adds, puzzled.
'I dabble.'
'Who's Amy?? You were Amelia.' The Doctor interjects.
'Yeah, now I'm Amy.' She replies off handedly.
'Amelia Pond, that was a great name.'
'Bit fairy tale.' She snaps back.
'But I know you, don't I? I've seen you before.' The lady says, staring intently at The Doctor, her eyes darting to me too.
'Not me - brand new face, first time on.' The Doctor replies, he turns to Amelia 'What's wrong with fairy tale?'
'I grew up.' Amelia replies casually but I can hear the hurt in her tone.
‘Oh, you never want to do that.’ He exclaims disgusted, turning to the TV still flipping through the channels, ‘it’s everywhere. Every channel.’
‘And what sort of job is a kissogram?’ He asks, judging. I roll my eyes, getting a headache trying to keep up with him jumping around like this.
‘I go to parties, I kiss people, with outfits. It’s a laugh.’ Amelia replies, defensive.
‘You were a little a girl five minutes ago!’ He exclaims, dad voice in full effect.
‘You’re worse than my aunt.’ She cries out.
‘I’m The Doctor, I’m worse than everyone’s aunt. And that is not how I’m introducing myself.’ He says seriously. I snort, letting a little giggle out, getting a wink in reply.
I pick up the radio, thinking it probably would be a good idea to check. I pluck the sonic from The Doctor, speeding through the channels, ‘They are broadcasting across the world, in all languages.’ I confirm.
‘Okay, planet this size, two poles, your basic Milton core - they’re gonna need a forty percent fission blast.’ The Doctor rambles, pacing in the small space.
‘So, we have about twenty minutes, yeah?’ I check.
'Right-o, sweetheart.' He declares. Then he grimaces. ‘Ew, no, not saying that again. Right-o.’ He shudders.
'Are you the Doctor?' A young man standing in the doorway asks.
'He is, isn't he? He's the Doctor.' The lady beams, turning to me. 'That must mean your Rose.'
The Doctor and I share a confused look. How do they know who we are?
‘The raggedy Doctor and his golden wife,’ she continues. ‘All those cartoons you did, when you were little—that’s them.’
'Shut up.' Amelia mutters.
'Cartoons?' The Doctor asks, confused and just a little smug
'Amy, it's him, isn't it? It's really him!' The young man exclaims.
'Jeff, shut up!!' Amelia snaps, then spins to face us. 'Twenty minutes to what?'
'The human residence - they're not talking about your house, they're talking about the planet. Somewhere up there, there's a space ship - and it's going to incinerate the planet. Twenty minutes to the end of the world!' The Doctor explains. I roll my eyes, he could have said that better.
The Doctor runs back out of the house. I follow quickly, shouting over my shoulder, ‘Thank you!’
The Doctor stops on the village green. It’s quaint, I think—pond, pub, church.
'What is this place, where am I?' The Doctor asks, turning to Amelia.
'Ross? Going to assume you still have contacts in UNIT?' I ask, glancing at him.
'I do.' He confirms, 'Want me to check when they're getting here?'
'Oh, no that wasn't it but that could be helpful. There's going to be a call about all this and he's going to want on it, can you set that up for me?'
‘Sure.’ His lips tilt up at something behind me. He nods. ‘You might want to deal with that.’
'You know who I am.' I catch the Doctor saying as reach them, frustration creeping into his voice.
'You alright there?' I ask over Amelia shoulder.
‘He’s just fine,’ Amelia bites out. ‘No, really, who are you?’ she demands, turning back to the Doctor—whose tie is stuck in a car door.
'Seriously, I leave you alone for 5 minutes.' I say, shaking my head, trying not to laugh.
'Look at the sky! End of the world, twenty minutes -' The Doctor blurts out, incredulous.
'Well better talk quickly then!'
'Amy, I am going to need my car back,' the elderly man hovering by the car stutters.
'Yeah, in a bit. Go and have coffee.' Amelia replies without looking at him.
'Right, yes. Sorry, Amy.' He scurries off.
'Catch!' The Doctor calls out.
He throws her an apple. I shoot him a confused look, then turn back and see the awe on Amelia’s face.
'I'm the Doctor. I'm a time traveller. Everything I told you twelve years ago is true. I'm real. What's happening in the sky is real! And if you don't let me go right now everything you've ever known is over.'
'I don't believe you.' She replies quietly, still struggling.
'Twenty minutes. Just believe us for twenty minutes.' I chime in softly.
'Look at it. Fresh as the day you gave it to me. And you know it's the same one. Your first thought when it landed in your hand - it's so small.' The Doctor adds gently.
'Amy. Believe for twenty minutes.' I urge.
'What do we do?' Amy asks, unlocking the car.
The Doctor staggers as he’s released, knees buckling. I dart forward to steady him, worry flaring as another puff of golden energy escapes.
‘This is too much, too soon,’ I whisper, voice breaking. ‘I can’t help you through it.’ The words snap out, sharper than I mean—more at myself than him, anger rising at my own helplessness.
‘No, sweetheart. It’s okay,’ he says softly, managing to stand steadier now.
But frustration still builds in me. I can’t reach across the bond, can’t anchor him the way I always have. And with the Old Girl still repairing, I can’t even hear her song to guide me. I’ve never felt so cut off.