trigger warnings: discussion of unhealthy relationships with food and past abusive relationships, talk about throwing up and illness

*

MJ gets to her feet to face the Dalek. To face her death.

She doesn't flinch as it aims its whisk-like weapon at her. She stands tall, straight-backed, her eyes narrowed and steely, and her chin raised. She could try to fight back — draw her sword and raise her shield — but she has the distinct feeling it'd be a futile effort. No, she will face her death with grace. And she won't scream. No matter how much it hurts, she won't scream.

"Exterminate!" the Dalek wails.

It fires, but not at her — at the wall. MJ furrows her brow.

"Okay, either you have terrible aim or you don't actually want me dead," she says. "Which is it?"

"I am armed," the Dalek says. "I will kill. It is my purpose."

"Then do it," MJ says. "You already killed all those people. How am I different? What makes me different from them?"

The Dalek is silent for a moment, and then, "You are her friend."

MJ takes a deep breath. "Rose."

"I feel her fear," it says. "Daleks do not fear. Must not fear!" It fires a couple more times, laser blasts that hit the bulkhead behind MJ. "She gave me life. What else has she given me? I am contaminated."

"I don't think you are," MJ says softly. "But I suppose you and me see things differently."

"You are crying," the Dalek notes. "Are you afraid?"

"Always," she admits. "Fear's not such a bad thing, though. Not as long as you don't let it stop you from doing what needs to be done."

The Dalek seems to consider that. Then it uses the tip of its gun to nudge her into position. It stands beside her, eyestalk aimed toward the ceiling. MJ follows its line of sight to a camera in the corner.

"Open the bulkhead or Matilda Winslow dies," the Dalek announces.

A shudder runs down her spine at hearing her name in its gravelly mechanical voice. Something about it is just...wrong. Really, really wrong. Seriously, why is it so wrong? What's so unsettling about the Dalek knowing and saying her name? There's something more to it, something that's on the tip of her tongue.

Somehow, audio comes through the camera, a sharp gasp followed by the Doctor's voice. "You're alive!"

MJ shrugs. "So it would seem."

"We thought you were dead," the Doctor says. Gods, he sounds heartbroken.

"Open the bulkhead!" the Dalek demands.

"Don't you fucking dare," MJ orders, narrowing her eyes down to slits. "I mean it, Doc. Don't even think about it."

"What use are emotions, if you will not save the woman you love?" it taunts.

MJ spins around to shoot the Dalek a disbelieving look. "Okay, what the fuck are you talking about, dude? We've known each other for like, two weeks."

"I have downloaded your Internet," the Dalek says. "I have seen it all. It is a known fact: Where the Doctor goes, Matilda Winslow follows."

It clicks then, why it feels so wrong to hear the Dalek say her name — because it shouldn't know it. Rose had introduced her as MJ back in the Cage. But now the Dalek knows her name, her full name, and it's saying...what is it even saying? How could that be a known fact? MJ and the Doctor have only just met.

Except it's 2012 here. Six years since MJ stood in the Cabinet Room in 10 Downing Street with Rose, Harriet Jones, and the Doctor. Six years since the Doctor and Rose helped her drop out of Abbott University and move out of her dorm. Has...has MJ been traveling with the Doctor for that long? Has she — future MJ — really spent the last six years at his side?

If MJ dies now in this bunker, all of that will be wiped from existence. Time will be rewritten, and the Doctor will have only known her these two short weeks. But if she lives, the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, a man who knows loneliness better than anyone she's ever met, will have six years of constant companionship, of the same hand to hold and shoulder to cry on. It would be cruel to take that from him, wouldn't it?

But she has to. Because what does it matter if she lives if everyone else dies? The Dalek can rewrite history by killing her, but it can rewrite history by escaping the bunker too.

"Don't open the bunker," MJ orders, pouring as much urgency into her words as she can manage. "Doctor, please. Who knows how many people might die if the Dalek gets out of here? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you have to let me go. You have to. Please. Let me be the last life it takes."

Rose's voice comes through the audio feed, choked with emotion. "MJ, no. We can find another way to stop it. Can't we, Doctor? Just — if you and MJ just put your heads together, you can find a way. You're geniuses. Open the bulkhead. Doctor, please."

"I'll be fine," MJ says, voice cracking. "I-I won't even scream. It'll be one shot and then it will be over. I can see Thalia again. And then no one else dies today. Please, Doctor. Even if you open the bulkhead, it will just kill me anyway."

"You don't know that," Rose argues. "Doctor, open the bulkhead."

"You can't," Van Statten cuts in.

The Doctor sounds like he's on the verge of tears. "I killed her once. I can't do it again."

The bulkhead opens, and MJ bites back a scream. She bottles that up too, stores it next to the frustration from earlier. Bottles she'll break while training to push herself that little bit farther. That's what she's always done — used the pain and the anger and the spite to better herself. It's that, or drown in it all.

The Dalek holds her at gunpoint the whole way down the hall and into the elevator. MJ pushes the button for the top floor, Van Statten's office, and then she watches the numbers on the screen drop lower and lower as the elevator rises.

"What's next?" MJ asks, her throat scratched raw from the scream she swallowed. "What's your grand plan, huh? Going to uh, retire the whole killing schtick and switch to pacifism?"

"My function is to kill," the Dalek says, its eyestalk whirling to face her. She has to jump back not to get whacked. "What am I? What am I?"

"I don't know," she tells it. "But whatever you are, or whatever you're becoming...might not be so terrible."

The doors slide open to reveal Van Statten, Goddard, and Rose. MJ's eyes scan the room, but she doesn't see Adam or, more importantly, the Doctor anywhere.

"Don't move," MJ warns them. "Don't antagonize it. It's beginning to question itself."

"Van Statten." The Dalek rolls right up to him. "You tortured me. Why?"

"I wanted to help you," Van Statten babbles. The Dalek advances, pressing him back. "I just...I don't know, I was trying to help. I thought if we could get through to you, if we could mend you...I wanted you better, I'm sorry." Van Statten's back hits the wall and his voice goes up an octave. "I'm sorry. I swear, I just wanted you to talk!"

"Then hear me talk now," the Dalek says. "Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

Rose rushes to the Dalek's side. "Don't do it! Don't kill him!" The eyestalk whirls to face her, but she doesn't back down. "You don't have to do this anymore. There must be something else, not just killing. What else is there? What do you want?"

MJ comes up behind Rose, touching her elbow gently as a silent show of support.

The Dalek looks at Van Statten, and then back at Rose. "I want...freedom."

*

Rose and MJ hold hands as they follow the Dalek into a wide-open corridor on level one. The Dalek stops right in the middle of the room and fires at the ceiling — rubble falls and dust blooms from the new hole in the bunker. A shaft of sunlight shines through the hole in the ceiling like a kind hand held out to help you to your feet.

"You're out," Rose says, smiling at the Dalek. "You made it." Leaning against MJ, she admits, "I never thought I'd feel the sunlight again."

"How does it feel?" the Dalek asks. With a whirring noise, the casing opens to reveal a slimy creature with blue veiny skin, an exposed brain, and a single yellow eye. It's uh, kind of repulsive to be honest, and it doesn't smell too great either (like clams left out in the sun. Yuck), but MJ keeps her expression blank. It lifts a feeler toward the light.

"Get out of the way!"

MJ and Rose turn to see the Doctor holding a big gun. Rose's jaw drops. MJ shoves Rose behind her.

"Girls, get out of the way, now!" the Doctor shouts at them.

"No!" Rose says. "'Cause I won't let you do this."

"That thing killed hundreds of people," the Doctor says. He's shaking. Does he realize how badly he's shaking?

Rose stands her ground. "It's not the one pointing the gun at us."

"I've got to do this," the Doctor insists. He sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince them. "I've got to end it. The Daleks destroyed my home, my people. I've got nothing left."

MJ wants to protest, to tell him that's not true — he has the TARDIS. He has them. He might even have Susan out there somewhere, even if he's convinced himself he doesn't. But Rose doesn't give her the chance to say anything.

"Look at it," Rose says, lightly tugging MJ aside so the Doctor can see the Dalek.

The Doctor frowns, his brow furrowing. "What's it doing?"

"It's the sunlight," Rose says. "That's all it wants."

"But it can't..."

"It couldn't kill Van Statten, it couldn't kill MJ, it couldn't kill me," Rose tells him. "It's changing. And what about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changing into?"

MJ blinks and realizes she's walking, her feet carrying her to the Doctor without thinking. His eyes flicker between her and the Dalek. He readjusts his grip on the gun, looking more and more like a cornered animal the closer she draws. She stops right in front of him, hyperaware of the gun barrel pressing into her shoulder. She reaches her hand up. He flinches but lets her put her hand on his shoulder.

"The Daleks have taken so much from you," she whispers. "Don't let them take your hearts too."

Her mom's advice. Advice that she tried to give to Luke, but he was already too far gone.

Now MJ passes that wisdom on to the Doctor. Sees it wash over him. His shoulders slump. He lowers the gun and lets it hang at his side. Tears fill his eyes. "I couldn't..."

"It's okay," MJ says softly. She closes her hand over his and he lets her take the gun from him. She tosses it aside — it skids across the concrete floor and ends up in the corner — and then moves to stand at his side, taking his hand in hers.

"I wasn't..." The Doctor trails off again. His gaze darts from the Dalek to Rose to MJ. "Oh, girls. They're all dead."

"Why do we survive?" the Dalek asks.

"I don't know," the Doctor admits. MJ squeezes his hand lightly.

"I am the last of the Daleks," it says.

The Doctor shakes his head. "You're not even that. Rose did more than regenerate you. You've absorbed her DNA. You're mutating."

"Into what?"

"Something new," the Doctor says. "I'm sorry."

Rose frowns. "Isn't that better?"

"Not for a Dalek," he tells her.

"I can feel so many ideas," the Dalek groans. "So much darkness. Rose. Give me orders. Order me to die."

"I can't do that," she denies, shaking her head.

"This is not life," it insists. "This is sickness. I shall not be like you. Order my destruction! Obey! Obey! Obey!"

Rose hesitates, then relents, "Do it."

"Are you frightened, Rose Tyler?" the Dalek asks.

"Yeah," she admits softly.

Bathed in sunlight for the first and last time in its life, the Dalek says its final words. "So am I. Exterminate."

Rose backs up, stumbling over a piece of rubble, before turning on her heel and running over to MJ and the Doctor. MJ holds out her free hand and Rose takes it, tucking herself into MJ's side. Together, they all watch as the Dalek's casing closes. It rises into the air, the globes on its shell moving outward. The globes form a ball of crackling blue energy. The Dalek glows golden, brighter and brighter, until it implodes, taking every bit of its existence with it.

And just like that, it's over.

"Come on," MJ says. She squeezes her friends' hands tightly. "Let's go home."

*

"Little piece of home," the Doctor says, patting the TARDIS affectionately. "Better than nothing."

They're back in the museum now. MJ's gaze keeps drifting to the manticore tail. It has to be a manticore tail, right? She considers asking the Doctor if he knows what alien it's a part of, but he doesn't seem in the mood for it.

"Is that the end of it?" Rose asks. "The Time War."

"I'm the only one left," he says. "I win. How about that?"

Rose shrugs. "The Dalek survived. Maybe some of your people did, too."

"I'd know," he says with a little shake of his head. He taps his temple, just like he had the other day, lying on her bed. "In here. Feels like there's no one."

"Well, then," Rose says, looping her arm through MJ's. "Good thing we're not going anywhere."

MJ grins wearily and leans on Rose. "Yep. You're stuck with us." 

There's so much more she wants to say, but it can wait. Like the bottles in her chest, tucked behind her lungs, safely stored until she needs them.

The Doctor manages a small, sad smile. "Yeah."

Adam runs up to them. "We'd better get out. Van Statten's disappeared. They're closing down the base. Goddard says they're gonna fill it full of cement, like it never existed!"

"It's about time," Rose scoffs.

MJ nods. "I'd do a lot more than fill it with cement personally."

"I'll have to go back home," Adam continues. Does he expect MJ to care? Because she really doesn't.

Neither does the Doctor. "Better hurry up, then. Next flight to Heathrow leaves at 1500 hours."

"Adam was saying that all his life, he wanted to see the stars," Rose says pointedly.

"Tell him to go and stand outside, then," the Doctor retorts. MJ presses her lips together to keep from laughing. The Doctor notices, and his smile brightens.

"He's all on his own, Doctor," Rose says. "And he did help."

"He left MJ down there!" the Doctor exclaims.

"So did I!" Rose reminds him. "And so did you."

Adam's gaze darts between them, a crease in his brow. "What are you talking about? We've got to leave!"

"Plus, he's a bit pretty," the Doctor teases.

MJ snorts. "If you say so."

"I hadn't noticed," Rose says innocently, batting her eyes. There's the slightest curve to her lips.

The Doctor turns to MJ. "MJ, thoughts?"

"I don't like him," MJ says plainly. Rose opens her mouth to protest and MJ holds up her finger. "But if Rose wants him along...I suppose I could stomach just one trip."

Rose pouts, brown eyes shining. "Only one?"

"I kind of saved his life back there and I don't think he even knows my name," MJ says. "One trip is probably more than he deserves, all things considered."

"How about this?" the Doctor suggests. "One trip with the possibility of more if he proves himself. And that's a big 'if.'"

"Deal!" Rose exclaims.

MJ pulls her TARDIS key out of her pocket and unlocks the door.

"What are you doing?" Adam demands. "She said 'cement.' She wasn't joking, we're going to get sealed in."

MJ rolls her eyes at him as she walks into the TARDIS. She knows it's probably impolite, but she doesn't hang around the console room waiting for Adam or his reaction to the TARDIS interior. She pats the console, earning a pleased hum, and then heads straight to her room. She doesn't have the energy to make fake niceties right now.

Once in her room, she leaves her shoes by the door and goes into the bathroom. Originally, the plan was to take a shower. Then she sees the clawfoot bathtub she still hasn't used yet and remembers she hasn't taken an actual bath since she was eight. Baths are supposed to be relaxing, right? MJ could use some relaxation right now.

MJ turns on the water, makes sure it's nice and hot, and then strips down. She empties her pockets into a wicker basket before she takes her jeans off — her phone, a granola bar, her hunting knife, a mini-first aid kit, two bobby pins, the alien instrument, a packet of gum, and the thing she'd nicked from Adam's workshop. In the perfect lighting of the TARDIS, it's clear to see the cube is, in fact, made of celestial bronze. She'll examine it properly later. She leaves her Snoopy watch, her ring, and her camp necklace on the marble countertop.

She sinks into the hot water with a low groan. For maybe five minutes, she just lays there, enjoying the warmth. Then she forces herself to sit up and get clean. By the time MJ is done washing herself off, the water should've gone cold. Luckily for her, the TARDIS keeps it the perfect temp. She almost doesn't want to get out. But she should, so she does.

MJ towels herself dry. She almost leaves the bathroom without putting her robe on because she doesn't really need it, but she decides that even if she doesn't need it, she wants it. She ties the sash to the fluffy pink robe tight before she opens the door. As soon as she does, she becomes very thankful she chose to put the robe on.

Because the Doctor is sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed.

"Have a nice bath?" he asks pleasantly. Even if there weren't a nervous glimmer in his blue eyes, she'd know something's bothering him — his knee is bouncing incessantly again. He's left his shoes by the door again, right next to her sneakers.

"Yeah," MJ says slowly. "Why are you in my room?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he says. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah, of course." She walks over to her dresser and starts opening drawers, pulling out everything she needs. "You mind waiting until I'm dressed?"

When she glances back at him, she sees his cheeks have reddened. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I...I can wait out in the hall if you want."

"That's really not necessary," she says. "Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

MJ slips past the gray curtains and vanishes into her closet. She lets her robe fall to the wooden floor, being careful not to glimpse her naked body in the mirror. Tonight's pajamas are her favorite pair of light gray sweatpants and a blue Wonder Woman graphic tee. As much as she adores the clothes she's gotten from the TARDIS, it's nice to wear her own things again. A pair of matching blue socks later, she comes out of her closet to see the Doctor's moved from her bench to her reading nook window seat.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asks, plopping down in one of the armchairs.

The Doctor is lying across the window seat, arm draped over his forehead. He stares blankly at the ceiling. "I closed the bulkhead on you."

"Yeah, you did," MJ says. "And I understand why you had to do it, and I don't blame you for it."

He sits up, frowning. "MJ, I left you to die."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I chose to make sure Rose and Adam got to safety. I chose to prioritize them over myself. I knew the risks, and I made my choice. Please don't take that from me."

"Why did you do that?" He shakes his head, swinging his feet to the floor. "I mean, Rose I get it, but risking your life for Adam? Why?"

MJ furrows her brow. "What do you mean 'Why?' Because it was the right thing to do. Are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same?"

"That's different," he says.

"How?"

"It just is," the Doctor insists. "I'm not a good man, MJ. The world won't miss me when I'm gone."

"Are you fucking insane?" she blurts out, leaning out of her seat. "Doctor, when you die, the stars themselves will mourn. You're right, you're not a good man. You're a great man. Possibly the greatest man I've ever met."

He gapes at her. "What?"

She gets up to kneel in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his knees. "You are kind and thoughtful and you care so much, even when you don't have to. I've known people who have power, enough power to help a lot of people, and they just...don't. Because they only care about themselves. But you? You use the power you have and you help everyone you can, even the ones who maybe don't deserve it."

The Doctor's just staring at her, his eyes filled with tears. "But...I pointed a gun at you, MJ. I—"

"You were confronted with something right out of your worst nightmares," she says. "You reacted poorly, but trust me, Doc, put me in a room with something right out of my worst nightmares and a gun in my hands and I couldn't do what you did. I could never back down, no matter what. I wouldn't even hesitate. I get it. Okay? I understand, and I forgive you for closing the bulkhead and aiming the gun."

He looks at her, still on her knees as if praying, and he shakes his head. "I'm no god."

"No," she agrees with a small smile. "You're so much better than a god. Gods are useless. They only know how to take, and they're never there when you need them. That's not you. You...You're a guardian angel."

The Doctor has a strange look on his face. She's seen it a couple of times before, she realizes. Only directed at her. Never Rose. Tears slip down his cheeks, and she reaches up with one hand to wipe them away. He seems to lean into her touch. Something twists in her stomach, but it's not...unpleasant.

"I'm not perfect, you know," he jokes, taking her hand in both of his. He presses a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, I know," she assures him, cracking an awkward smile. "I'm uh, actually kind of pissed at you right now."

He raises his eyebrows. "You are?"

"Yeah." She gets up and walks over to the record player, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's just...You risked all of mankind when you opened that bunker door for me." MJ looks at him with wide, pained eyes. "Do you have any idea how that felt? Knowing that if everything went horribly wrong and the Dalek slaughtered all of humanity, it'd be my fault?"

"No, no, it wouldn't have been," the Doctor protests, jumping to his feet. "It'd be my fault. It was my choice."

"That you made because of me!" she snaps. "For me! Even as I begged you not to!"

The bottle of frustration she'd stored away earlier cracks under the pressure, glass splintering into her lungs. The anger seeps through her system, boiling her blood and narrowing her eyes.

"MJ—"

"Swear to me that if you ever have to make that choice again," she says, "if you ever have to choose between me and mankind, you won't choose me. Swear it."

The Doctor looks at her with that kicked-puppy-dog expression she hates so much. "MJ..."

"Swear it!" she demands.

"I can't," he says. His voice cracks. "I...you're my friend, MJ, and I can't let you die. I could never let you die."

She stares at him, dumbfounded. "You'd really doom the world to save a friend? To save me?"

He cracks a smile, but it's sad. "What's the point of the world without MJ?"

"You sentimental bastard." She shakes her head. "You know what, Doc? It's fine. Really, it's fine. Because if you ever have to make that choice again and I don't see another way out...I'll just make it for you."

His smile, tentative as it is, falls. Something like desperation sinks its claws into his voice. "Don't you dare. Don't you even consider that!"

"I'm not worth it," MJ insists. "The Earth in flames, civilization in ruins, billions dead...I'm not worth it."

"You are to me," he argues, angry now. "You're everything, MJ. Everything."

"Not compared to an entire planet's worth of people and culture and ecosystems," she retorts.

"Yes, you are," he says heatedly. "I'd burn planets for you, soak whole galaxies in blood if I thought it'd keep you safe." She stares blankly at him. He wipes his mouth, the flames in his eyes flickering out, replaced by a deep sadness. "For you and Rose, I'd do anything. You'll never understand how much you two mean to me."

MJ doesn't know what to say to that. She just...She doesn't get it. She's trying to be understanding — sweet, understanding MJ, always empathizing, always putting her own feelings aside to keep the peace — but she doesn't get it. It's simple logic. Basic math. One or two lives never outweigh billions. How could he think that she and Rose are more important than anyone else? That's beyond loyalty. That's blind devotion.

That's dangerous. And weirdly hot.

The Doctor's gaze falls to the floor, seemingly ashamed. "I...I should go. Let you get some sleep."

He makes for the door. She runs to block it.

"Wait," she says as if he has a choice in the matter when she's literally blocking his only means of exit. "Do you think the Dalek was telling the truth? That where you go, I follow? That even six years from now, we're still traveling together?"

The corners of his lips lift into a shy smile. "I really bloody hope so."

MJ grins. "Yeah, me too." She throws her arms around him. "Thank you, Doc. For everything."

His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. He squeezes her tightly. "I'm so glad you're not dead. I don't know what I would've done if..."

The Doctor trails off. He buries his face in her hair and presses a kiss there. There it is again — the strange twisting in the pit of her stomach. When she'd first met him, she never would've guessed he'd be so touchy-feely. But she likes it. People who aren't her siblings rarely want to be so close to her. At CHB, no one outside Cabin 6 would ever dare to just grab her hand, or pull her into a hug.

The Doctor takes her hand like it's second nature. Like it's made to fit in his.

Just as it's MJ who initiated the hug, it's her who pulls away first. She steps aside, opens the door for him, and says, "Goodnight, Doc."

"Goodnight, MJ," he says.

She closes the door behind him. The strange twisting has progressed through her body like climbing ivy, wrapping around her lungs and her heart. She has an inkling as to what the feeling is, but she doesn't want it to be that, so MJ decides to take the mature route — completely ignore it and hope it goes away.

*

The next morning, Rose and Adam fry up a full English breakfast — sausage links, fried eggs, fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, toast, baked beans, and something they call 'black pudding.' MJ doesn't take any black pudding or baked beans (baked beans are for barbecues, not breakfast), but she takes a healthy portion of everything else. It's an incredibly heavy breakfast. Nothing like this would ever be served at CHB, that's for sure.

"So Adam was saying he'd like to go to the future," Rose says as they all eat up. "Is that alright with everyone?"

"Good with me," MJ says. She takes a sip of orange juice, then asks, "Thoughts, Doc?"

"Future sounds good," the Doctor says. He's not making eye contact.

MJ swallows a bite of sausage and licks the grease from her lips. "Maybe tomorrow, though. I think I want to hit up the gym today."

"You guys have a gym?" Adam asks. He looks at the Doctor for answers.

"Apparently," the Doctor says. He's having coffee — two sugars and a splash of cream — with breakfast. The steam rises lazily from the plain white mug.

Rose scrunches her face up, fiddling with the corner of her napkin. "Think I could join you in the gym?"

"Of course," MJ says, "but you don't look excited about it."

"Working out's never really been something I enjoyed," Rose admits. A red flush crawls up her neck. "But I can't stop thinking about how maybe if I were a little faster yesterday, we all could've made it through the bulkhead."

MJ leans over to cover Rose's hand with hers. "Hey, you ran like hell. You want to be faster, I can make you faster. But don't put yourself down, okay? You did your best."

"Well, my best wasn't good enough," Rose says, teary-eyed.

MJ sits up straighter, feeling a weight settle on her shoulders. "Then do better next time."

*

The Doctor and Adam clean up breakfast so Rose and MJ can get ready to work out. Is a full English breakfast the best thing to eat before a workout session? Absolutely not, but MJ can make it work.

She instinctively puts on her CHB shirt before she realizes maybe she shouldn't. It could raise questions she's not in the mood to answer. She takes off the orange shirt that still smells of home and grabs a baggy purple shirt instead to cover her blue sports bra. She ties her hair up in a bun to keep it off the back of her neck and slips on a pink headband to keep it out of her face. MJ pulls on her pink-and-white sneakers and then she's out the door, humming a song she doesn't remember the name of.

Rose is already in the gym, stretching on a bench, when MJ gets there. She's wearing black sweatpants and a hot pink hoodie, her hair up in a ponytail.

"Hey," MJ says brightly. Rose starts to get up, but MJ waves her on. "Keep stretching. I'm going to take a look around and see exactly what equipment is in here."

As expected, the gym is a mixture of human and alien exercise machines. There are treadmills, ellipticals, and recumbent exercise bikes that could prove helpful in their overall goal of making Rose faster. What she really wants, though, is a running track, maybe some bleachers. Exercising is always better when done outside in her opinion. Something about the fresh air just...helps.

MJ's about to resign herself to training on machines when she catches sight of a sign on the wall. She'd assumed the doors led to bathrooms/changing rooms/shower rooms, but when she gets closer, she realizes some of them lead to specific departments. One of the doors opens into a gymnastics gym with beams, mats, uneven bars, and trampolines. Another one leads to a room of lap pools, and another one, most interestingly, leads to a wide-open space complete with its own sky and crisp green grass. Through the grass cuts a winding stone path, and at the end of the path is everything MJ hoped for.

It's a track and field, exactly like the kinds schools have for sporting events, complete with bleachers. The false sky overhead is a clear blue, and a gentle breeze rolls over MJ. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"We're just going to walk today," MJ says when she and Rose have reached the track.

"Oh, okay." Rose tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, and the girls start their leisurely stroll around the track. "So, I guess I have to go on a diet, yeah?"

MJ shoots her a bewildered look. "Why would you need to go on a diet?"

"Well, isn't that what you're supposed to do?" she asks. "You know, eat healthy, exercise, lose weight."

"You don't need to lose weight," MJ says. "And you don't need to diet. I fucking hate diet culture. Seriously, one of the worst things you can do to yourself is fuck up your relationship with food."

Rose frowns, folding her arms over her chest. "You, uh, kind of sound like you're speaking from experience, if you don't mind me saying."

MJ presses her lips together. She is, in fact, speaking from experience.

In her case, it wasn't a choice she made so much as a side-effect of her situation. When she was living on the streets with Thalia, Luke, and later Annabeth, food wasn't always guaranteed. It's been years since then, but MJ still can't bring herself to waste any food — she cleans every plate she's given, no matter if she wants to or not. That lingering fear is always in the back of her mind that something will happen and food won't be readily available so she needs to eat while she can. She's gotten better though. She doesn't hoard food anymore.

"I was in a situation for a little while where I was never sure when my next meal would be," MJ admits, craning her head to look at the cloudless sky. "So when I did have food, I had to eat all of it. Not waste a single crumb. And that's stuck with me, even though it's been...well, I guess it's only really been five years, going on six."

"I'm sorry," Rose says softly. "I, um...I know a little bit what that's like, actually. Having an unhealthy relationship with food, I mean. Jimmy used to rag on me about how much I ate. Said he wouldn't be with me anymore if I got fat. So I started, you know, restrictin' myself. Now, every time I have that thought of 'Am I eating too much? Am I gonna get fat?', I tell that stupid little voice in the back of my head to shut up and I eat more, because he doesn't get to have power over me. Not anymore."

Tears fall from her eyes. She wipes them away with a little sniffle. MJ loops her arm through Rose's and pulls her close, leaning on her.

"We are so much more than they'll ever be," MJ says quietly.

"Yeah," Rose agrees, voice cracking. "Yeah, we are. I mean, we're walking on a track in a fake field in a spaceship that's also a time machine, and where are they? Probably pissing the day away with a six-pack of cheap beer."

MJ twists her lips in contemplation. Where is Luke? Recruiting like-minded demigods to his cause? Plotting his invasion/takeover of CHB? Wherever he is, has he even thought about her once? Or is she just another piece of his old life that he's left behind? Is she just another childhood comfort he's outgrown?

"If I murdered Luke, would you help me get rid of the body?" MJ blurts out.

Rose doesn't even bat an eye. "Of course! And you'd do the same with me if I murdered Jimmy, right?"

"Yeah, of course," MJ says. "This is going to sound so weird because I've kind of always wanted to like, murder someone."

"Just to see if you could get away with it?" Rose guesses with a massive grin, laughing a little.

"Yes, exactly!" MJ exclaims, laughing too. "I read once that the perfect murder isn't the one that goes unsolved, it's the one that's solved with the wrong culprit caught."

Rose nods along. "So, if I kill Jimmy or if you kill Luke, we frame the other bastard for the murder?"

"Oh, that's kind of genius," she says. She raises her eyebrows at Rose playfully. "Rose Tyler, are you secretly an evil mastermind?"

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Rose jokes.

They spend the rest of their walk making each other crack up so hard they nearly fall over.

*

After Rose and MJ lap the track a few times, Rose calls it a day. MJ decides to work out a little longer. She finds a training dummy in a storage closet and sets it up in the boxing ring that sits in the middle of the gym. All that talking about Luke has left a wildfire blazing under her skin, and now she desperately needs to hit something.

So she does.

MJ's not sure how long she wails on that fucking dummy. Long enough that she works up a sweat. Long enough that it starts to become mindless, and her thoughts wander, and then she's thinking about Luke again. The scream she'd bottled up yesterday is banging against the glass, trying to be let out. She uncorks the bottle and lets the scream live under her skin. With every punch and every kick, the scream crawls up her throat, begging to be released.

MJ swings a little too wide and ends up punching the metal skeleton of the training dummy. The skin of her knuckles split open. She opens her mouth to gasp but all that comes out is the scream instead. Despite all its pleading, it doesn't go easy — it sinks its claws into her throat, shredding the muscles on its way out. And then she's crying on the floor, cradling her hand. It's not broken, or anything. It just hurts. Everything hurts.

The door to the gym opens, and the Doctor pops his head in. "MJ? It's almost time for dinner, and it's your turn to cook."

MJ grimaces. She really needs to find a sneaky way to take her name out of the dinner rotation before Rose and the Doctor realize all she knows how to cook is bacon and eggs. Maybe she can talk them into getting takeout? Or going out for dinner. Rose would never turn down an excuse to get dressed up.

The Doctor calls her name again as he walks into the gym. It takes him maybe forty-five seconds to spot her in the boxing ring, brown eyes rimmed red. He frowns and jogs over to her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she says, her voice hoarse.

"No, you're not," he says. He climbs up onto the base of the ring and then hops over the ropes. His eyes find her injured hand immediately. "You're hurt!"

"It's nothing," MJ says. She clears her voice and adds, "Seriously, I'm fine. No big deal."

"Let me see," he requests, sitting down cross-legged in front of her.

MJ pouts because she knows he's going to make a bigger deal out of it than it actually is, but she holds out her injured hand and lets him take it in both of his. He squeezes her hand, checking to see if it's broken. Once he's satisfied it's not, he reaches one hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a mini first aid kit. He pops it open and takes out a pair of disposable gloves. He shifts to prop up one knee.

"I could do this myself, you know," MJ says as he guides her injured hand to rest on his knee.

"But luckily you don't have to," the Doctor says cheerily. He pulls the disposable gloves on, rips open a cleansing wipe, and gently cleans her bloodied knuckles. "So, I'm guessing you're not in the mood to cook dinner, then."

She shakes her head. "Not really."

"How about we go out, then?" he suggests.

MJ furrows her brow and tilts her head curiously. "Just the two of us?"

The tips of his ears flush red. "No, us and Rose. And Adam, I suppose."

"Yeah, that'd be nice." MJ manages a small smile. "Maybe, uh, maybe we could go somewhere a little fancy, so Rose can dress up."

"Just Rose?" the Doctor teases. He's moved on to applying ointment to her knuckles.

"Well, I would too, obviously," she says with an eye roll. She nudges him lightly with her foot. "And you too. You do own other clothes than just that jacket, those jeans, and a bunch of sweaters, right?"

"'Course I do!" He wraps her knuckles in gauze. "Tell you what. We'll do black-tie. Me and Adam in suits, you and Rose in fancy dresses. How's that sound?"

"Lovely," MJ says overdramatically, batting her eyes.

When the Doctor's finished wrapping her knuckles, he turns her hand over and presses a kiss to her palm. "All done!"

MJ's blood rushes to her cheeks. "Thanks, Doc."

"Anytime," he says. "But uh, you know. Try not to hurt yourself."

"Yes, sir." She mock-salutes and he rolls his eyes as if annoyed, but she knows he's not because he's smiling.

"Come on, then," he says as he helps her to her feet. "We've got a dinner to get to!"

*

The Doctor insists on walking her back to her room. "In case you hurt yourself along the way," he'd said.

Once she's in her room, alone once more, she takes a quick shower — with a disposable glove over her injured hand to not ruin the Doctor's hard work — dries herself off with a fluffy pink towel, puts on her underwear, and steps into her closet. She plans on wearing the same dress she wore for graduation, but as soon as the light automatically comes on in the closet, she sees a dress hanging on the rack that she's never seen before.

"Did you pick this out for me?" MJ asks, eyes on the ceiling. The TARDIS hums in response. MJ pulls the dress off the rack and holds it up to her body in the full-length mirror. She runs her free hand over the glittering material. "This is absolutely gorgeous. And don't think I didn't notice it's your shade of blue."

The TARDIS hums again, this time sounding almost amused.

"Well, if you insist," she says with a faux-weary sigh.

MJ slips the dress on and immediately starts giggling at the sight of herself in the mirror. Holy fuck, she looks stunning. When she'd dressed fancy for the 1800s, it'd been more like wearing a costume than anything. She was almost playing a role. But this? This is like...genuinely MJ.

She's giggly the entire time she gets ready. She hasn't put this much effort into her appearance since graduation. With the help of a hair tie, lots of bobby pins, and three different products including maximum hold styling gel, MJ styles her hair into an elegant updo. She cleans up her eyebrows, lines her eyes, and applies some mascara to her long lashes. As she applies nude lipstick (which she'll top with lip gloss, a tip Silena gave her), she makes a mental note to learn how to do eyeshadow sometime soon. Blush and bronzer aren't products that appeal to her, but damn does eyeshadow look fun.

From her limited selection of jewelry, MJ chooses a pair of silver dangly earrings and a silver locket Priscilla gave her for her sixteenth birthday. It physically pains her not to wear her camp necklace — or her Snoopy watch, or her friendship bracelet from Silena — and the silver totally clashes with her bronze ring, but she's overall pleased with the look. Then comes the most difficult choice.

Shoes.

MJ doesn't enjoy wearing heels. Heeled boots are typically as far as she'll go. But this is a dress that demands heels. Does MJ betray the dress and wear a pair of flats, or does she condemn her feet to a night of suffering and wear heels? When it comes to fashion quandaries like this, MJ falls back on an age-old question: What would Silena do?

"Silena would wear the heels," MJ says aloud with a pout.

The TARDIS hums in agreement. Sighing wearily, MJ steps into the only pair of heels she owns — black four-inch heels with an ankle strap. And yes, they were a gift from Silena. MJ is fully aware she would be nothing if it weren't for her loved ones.

MJ finishes her look with a black wrap in case she gets cold and — after much internal debating — a pair of black opera gloves to cover her injury. She spritzes herself with a fancy floral perfume, another gift from Silena, and just like that, she's all ready to go. She grabs the small black chain purse the TARDIS has provided her (which she's already stuffed full of her things) and then she's all ready to go. Yep. She's ready. All she has to do is open the door and head to the console room. Super easy.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she hisses to herself. "You know how to open doors. You've opened like, a billion doors in your life! Just open this one and walk through it!"

But she can't bring herself to do it. Her heart's been beating a little fast this entire time. She'd chalked it up to excitement, but now she's realizing it's not excitement at all. It's nerves. She's nervous. Why the fuck is she nervous? She looks incredible. Possibly the best she's ever looked. And it's not like she's going to some big party or a high-pressure social situation. It's just dinner with Rose and the Doctor. And Adam, unfortunately.

"It's just dinner," she repeats over and over, trying to make her hand move. When she finally manages to grab the doorknob, she nearly weeps with relief. "It's just dinner. It's just dinner."

MJ twists the knob and pushes the door open. She gapes at the sight of the hallway before her. She did it! She opened the door! Now she has to walk to the console room. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

Quick question: how does one walk again?

"MJ?"

Oh, great. Just what she needed — a conversation with Adam.

"Hey," she greets awkwardly.

He's wearing a black tux with a black bowtie. Super standard. He smiles at her. "You look really nice."

Really nice? Did he just say 'Really nice?' All the effort she went through — this hairstyle probably looks low-effort, but believe her, it is not — and all she gets is 'really nice?' Not even 'great?' Or 'awesome?' Gods, she hates white men.

"Thanks," she says, tone flat. "You look nice too."

Now that Adam's here, she's suddenly remembered how to walk again. She closes her door behind her and starts toward the console room, hyperaware of him just a foot or two behind. Luckily, he doesn't try to make small talk. She'd probably end up killing both him and herself if he did.

Seemingly just as eager to escape the awkwardness, Adam picks up the pace and passes her just as the archway to the console room comes into sight.

"Well, look at you all prettied up!" the Doctor exclaims when he sees Adam.

"I think you look dashing," Rose chimes in.

"Thanks," Adam says almost shyly.

The Doctor is leaning against the console, legs crossed at the ankle. "Where's—?"

She walks into the room before he can finish asking his question. The Doctor cuts himself off by choking on his words, jolting upright, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull.

"Oh my god," Rose gasps. "MJ, you look stunnin'!"

"You don't look too bad yourself," MJ says, winking.

Rose is wearing a floor-length pink floral dress with thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a matching shawl. Her hair is done, with two thin braids pulled back to make a crown. Pink and white flowers are interwoven in the braids, making her look like a princess. She's wearing taller heels than MJ. What's that about? Does she not love herself?

"The TARDIS pick out your dress too?" Rose asks, walking over to MJ to link their arms. MJ nods, and Rose flashes her a tongue-kissed smile. "Blimey, she has excellent taste. Don't you think, Doctor?"

The Doctor is still just staring at MJ. She honestly can't blame him. This dress is possibly her favorite thing she's ever worn. It's floor-length with thin straps, like Rose's, and a square neckline. It's made of this glittery blue fabric — sparkling dark blue tulle layered over a nice cotton blend of the same color if she had to hazard a guess — that looks like a shifting night sky. It's the perfect fit too. It hugs her body while still being nice and breathable.

"It's TARDIS blue," the Doctor notes once he regains the ability to speak. His face is bright red.

"Yeah, I guess she wanted us to match," MJ says, meaning herself and the ship, before she realizes the tie he's wearing is, in fact, also TARDIS blue. Oh. Oh, that sneaky spaceship. MJ clears her throat and adds, "So, where are we going?"

"An absolutely lovely restaurant in 25th-century France," the Doctor says, turning back to the console. He shoots Adam a brief look. "I'd recommend holding onto something."

MJ and Rose quickly secure their hold on the railing. Adam joins them a split second before the Doctor puts them into flight. It's a less bumpy ride than usual — maybe because the girls are all dolled up and the TARDIS doesn't want them to mess up their outfits or makeup. If so, that's very considerate of her.

When they land, the Doctor lets MJ throw the doors wide open.

"Oh, wow," MJ gasps. She looks at the Doctor over her shoulder. "You're not very good at driving, are you?"

The first thing MJ sees is a sign for a restaurant. Great start, right? Not so much.

Bella Vista

Napa Valley, California

Est. 2024

Yeah, they're not in 25th-century France. They're in 20-something-century Napa Valley. Specifically, in a restaurant's parking lot. Luckily, Bella Vista looks plenty fancy, so they're probably only a little over-dressed.

"Oops," the Doctor says, reading the sign over her shoulder. "Well, still a restaurant!"

"Food's still probably overpriced," Rose chimes in, joining MJ in the doorway.

"You know, I was really hoping to never set foot in the States again," Adam complains. He glances at MJ. "No offense."

"Plenty taken," she snaps. "Come on. Let's hope they can seat us without a reservation."

*

Three hours later, a very drunk Rose and a very full MJ stumble out of Bella Vista arm-in-arm, giggling like school girls. The sun has long since set, the moon taking its place in the sky. The light pollution isn't as bad out here, so overhead twinkles a sea of stars. The Doctor and Adam trail after the girls, kindly carrying their leftovers.

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't feel like cooking tonight," Rose says, words slurring. "That food was divine!"

"Fucking phenomenal," MJ agrees. "You know, I've always wanted to try beef Wellington."

"And I've always wanted to try creme brulee!" Rose exclaims. She has the biggest grin on her face. "We're living the dream, MJ! The dream!"

MJ nods sleepily, suppressing a yawn. "Damn fucking straight."

Rose pulls MJ closer and rests her head on MJ's shoulder. "We should have a sleepover. We can talk about...talk about guys and stuff."

"Too sleepy," MJ whines. "No talking, just sleeping."

After what feels like forever, they make it to the TARDIS. MJ fumbles with her key. She almost drops it but manages to successfully unlock the door. Rose lets out a cheer as MJ pushes the door open. The console room lights glow a little brighter in greeting.

"Honey, we're home!" Rose shouts right in MJ's ear.

MJ winces. "A little quieter please."

"I s'pose you two are off to bed then," the Doctor says, setting his stack of to-go containers on top of Adam's. Adam carries them off, presumably to the kitchen, while the Doctor locks the door behind them all.

"We're gonna have a sleepover in MJ's room," Rose says.

"Emphasis on sleep," MJ says, then covers her mouth to stifle another yawn. "You know, we might've eaten too good tonight. We might be ruined for all other food for the rest of time."

The Doctor smirks. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much. I know plenty of amazing restaurants all across the universe."

"Are you takin' us into space?" Rose asks, watching him whirl around the console through heavy-lidded eyes. "Because I might throw up if you do."

"I'll try to make the ride as smooth as possible," he assures her. With a wrinkle of his nose, he adds, "Don't need you upchucking all over my ship."

"If she vomits, I am not cleaning it up," MJ declares. "This one winter, there was a real nasty stomach bug going around. Annabeth caught it so we put a bucket next to her bed, you know, for her to throw up in...that girl's aim is normally impeccable but she missed the damn bucket nearly every single time. And guess who had to clean it up because she was the oldest?"

The Doctor raises his eyebrows. "You?"

"Yep," MJ says. "And I didn't complain once. Not out loud, anyway. But it's safe to say I've already cleaned up enough puke for one lifetime."

"Okay, can we stop talking about puking?" Rose requests, face screwed up in discomfort. "'Cos the more we talk about it, the more nauseous I get."

"Changing the subject," MJ says. "Doc, let us know when we need to hold on, okay?"

"Hold on to what?" he asks.

"The railing," MJ clarifies. "When you take us into space."

"Oh, I already did while you were rambling about cleaning up after Annabeth," the Doctor tells her with a nonchalant shrug.

The girls exchange annoyed looks.

"You mean the flights don't always have to be that bumpy?" MJ presses, her irritation seeping into her voice. "We don't have to nearly fall on our asses every single time?"

Now the Doctor frowns. "Well, no, but where would be the fun in that?"

Rose takes a deep breath and looks at MJ, eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm gonna smack him."

"I'll hold him down," MJ offers.

"Oi!" the Doctor exclaims, pouting. "Don't act like you two don't have just as much fun as I do bouncing around the console room. It's like riding bareback on a horse, you know?" He pauses. "Have you two done any riding?"

Rose's expression shifts into something downright impish. "Doctor...are you propositioning us?"

The Doctor's eyes widen, his entire face turning red. "What? No! That's not—I didn't—"

"For shame, Doctor," Rose teases. Her eyes glitter with mischief. "Coming on to two teenage girls? I thought you were better than that. Doesn't mean I'm saying no, though."

"Alright, that's enough out of you," MJ says with a roll of her eyes, tugging Rose toward the hallway. She offers the Doctor a kind smile. "I'm going to get her to bed. Thanks for dinner, Doc. It was fantastic."

"You're very welcome, MJ," he says pleasantly. His face is still red, but he's smiling now. "Goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight," Rose and MJ chorus, MJ practically dragging Rose out of the console room.

They make it to MJ's room without any incidents. Then it's just a matter of getting ready for bed. MJ has to help Rose undress and loan her some clothes. They scrub off their makeup together in the bathroom mirror, and then, with clean faces in comfy pajamas, they climb into MJ's bed. The TARDIS shuts the lights off for them.

"He likes you, you know," Rose mumbles as she pulls the covers up to her chin.

"Who?" MJ asks.

"The Doctor," Rose says. "He likes you. I mean like-likes you."

MJ yawns and rolls over to face Rose. "What are you talking about? We're just friends."

"I don't know," Rose sings teasingly, rolling over to face MJ. "I saw his face when the Dalek called you the woman he loves. Like he'd got caught with his hand in the, um, what's the saying? Got caught with his hand in...oh, the cookie jar! Like he'd got caught with his hand in the cookie jar."

She looks so absurdly proud of herself for remembering the saying that MJ can't help but crack a smile. "The Doctor doesn't love me, Rose, he just likes me platonically. Same way I like him."

"So you wouldn't fuck him if he asked?" Rose questions bluntly, her filter temporarily disabled thanks to all the cocktails she'd had at dinner. "Because I don't like him like that either, but I would. When else would I get the chance to fuck an alien?"

"I mean, considering we're traveling through space and time, I'd argue you'll probably have plenty of opportunities to have sex with an alien if you really wanted to," MJ says.

"Okay, very true," Rose says, "but you can't dodge the question, missy. Would you fuck him if he asked?"

"No, I wouldn't," MJ replies. "I'm not really in the mental headspace to have sex with anyone."

Rose makes a face like she just smelled something foul and lies flat on her back. "'Cos of Luke?"

MJ sighs wearily, slumping back against her mattress. "Yeah. He kind of ruined sex for me. For now, at least."

"Yeah, it took me a while after Jimmy to feel comfortable doin' anything more than a quick kiss with Mickey," Rose says. She's staring at the ceiling. "But Mickey was just so sweet, and gentle...I don't know. It was easier than I thought it'd be, tryin' again with someone else. Hopefully, it's the same for you too."

"That'd be nice," MJ says. "Because I've heard sex is supposed to be fun."

"Oh my god, it's so fun!" Rose laughs. "When you do it with the right person, it feels so good. You'll probably be really good at it, too, 'cos you care so much about everyone, you know? And you're selfless. God, the worst thing somebody can be during sex is selfish. Well, unless the other person consented to the selfishness. That can be fun."

MJ twists her lips. She knows she probably shouldn't ask her next question, but she's sleepy and her exhaustion has loosened her tongue. "Do you think the Doctor is good at sex? I feel like he probably is, right? I mean, he's nine hundred years old. Lots of time to practice."

"Oh yeah, he's probably great at it," Rose says. "Sorry, fantastic."

They both giggle at that.

"Or," Rose says, lowering her voice with a little smirk, "he's a nine-hundred-year-old virgin. That I can totally see."

Without thinking, MJ adds, "He can't be a virgin, he had grandchildren. Unless Gallifreyans reproduce differently than we humans do, which is totally possible."

Rose grabs MJ's wrist, eyes bulging out of her head. "The Doctor has grandchildren?"

Oops.

"Oh, fuck," MJ gasps. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"Why do you know and I don't?" Rose asks, surprised expression collapsing into a pout.

"Remember when we found that painting in the art room?"

Rose nods.

"Well, I asked the Doctor about it," MJ says, "and eventually, he told me it was of his granddaughter, Susan. So that's why I know and you don't. Because I asked and you didn't."

"Okay, but what do you mean you weren't supposed to tell me?" Rose pushes.

"I just mean that it's not my story to tell, you know?" MJ shrugs. "It's the Doctor's painful past, not mine."

"Yeah, I guess." Rose scrunches up her nose in thought. She's quiet for a moment, then rolls over to face MJ again. "Wait...you said he had grandchildren. As in they're..."

"Gone," MJ says simply. "He said Susan might still be alive but he doesn't think she is."

Rose's face softens. "Oh god. That's — blimey. No wonder he didn't say anything. That's horrible."

"Yeah."

They lapse into silence after that. Eventually, Rose's even breathing turns into soft snores. MJ pulls her comforter up to her chin and snuggles into her pillow. She'd been so tired, but now that she's actually in bed, she feels wide awake. Something tells her that even if she does fall asleep, her dreams won't be pleasant.

MJ slips out of bed and past the curtains into her craft room. She turns on the floor lamp by her loom — bright enough that she'll be able to see what she's doing, but soft enough not to disturb Rose's slumber — and resumes her tapestry of a CHB sunset. She'll weave until her thoughts are quiet enough for her to sleep.

She's still weaving, a different piece now, when Rose wakes up.

*

this chapter is such a weird amalgamation of things but i think that's very true to the spirit of doctor who so fuck it!! we ball!!