I stepped into the TARDIS, closing the doors behind me to shut out the wind and chaos outside.
It was instantly warmer. The TARDIS hummed steadily and familiarly. Its hum helped to dull the yelling from the courtyard.
Out there, Jackie and Mickey had crammed a whole year into their lives. In here? Nothing changed. Everything stayed the same, as if the universe had pressed pause.
The Doctor didn't go back to the console. He hovered by the doors, like he expected them to knock again any second.
"You're pacing," I said.
"I'm not pacing," he replied. "I'm… hovering."
"That's just pacing with extra steps."
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. Mickey's punch hadn't done much damage, but his pride? Yeah, that took a hit. "I always forget people get angry."
"You forget because you never stick around long enough to deal with it," I said.
His eyebrows went up. "That was a bit harsh."
"You didn't say I'm lying."
He tried to brush it off, rolling his shoulders and forcing a hint of his usual energy. "Fine. We give it a few minutes. Rose comes back. We smile. We act calm. Reassuring. We—"
"You mean you'll do the grinning," I cut in.
He pointed at me. "Exactly."
I drifted around the console, fingers wandering over switches and panels for no real reason. Tapped at a seam I'd already fixed. It didn't need fixing again. My hands just needed something to do.
The Doctor watched me. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Fixing things instead of feeling them."
I kept my eyes down. "What's that even mean? Someone's got to keep this ship from catching fire."
"She hardly ever catches fire."
"She tries to," I shot back. "You just call it her 'personality.'"
He let out a short laugh, then went quiet. That was unusual. He could fill a room with noise even when he was alone. Now he just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes on the doors.
A muffled shout pushed through from outside—unmistakable Jackie's voice, loud enough to carry even through wood and distance.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT HE SAYS, ROSE! I DON'T CARE IF HE'S GOT A BOX OR—!"
The Doctor flinched.
"She's creative," I said.
"She's terrifying," he corrected. Then, quieter: "She's right to be."
I tightened one screw that didn't need tightening. "You can be sorry and still keep moving you know."
"That's what you tell yourself," he said.
"That's what I tell myself because it works," I replied. I paused before I could dress it up. "Most of the time at least."
He didn't push. He just waited, like the waiting was the point.
A few minutes later we heard footsteps in the courtyard, then a knock. It wasn't a confident one that was certain. If I wasn't expecting it after the shouting you likely wouldn't have heard it either. It sounded like someone asking permission.
The Doctor straightened immediately, face switching back to as friendly as possible like it was a reflex.
He opened the doors.
Rose stood there with a shopping bag looped around her wrist. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were blotchy, but still, she stood upright. She looked at the Doctor, then at me, then into the console room like she needed the sight of it to stay steady.
"Mum says I've got ten minutes," she said.
"Ten minutes is loads," the Doctor said, too fast.
Rose lifted a hand. "Don't."
His smile softened and dropped a notch. "Okay. Ten minutes."
She stepped inside. The doors shut behind her. The room felt quieter, like the outside had been cut off clean.
Rose looked down at the grating under her feet, then up at the Time Rotor. "This is still mad."
Her eyes swept the room and landed on me. She blinked, then did a double-take.
"Wait—" She pointed at me. "Did you go shopping?"
I glanced down at my new gear—cargo trousers, boots, the tool belt. "Yep, needed some practical clothes. The old ones were… compromised by Victorian gas explosions."
"You look like you're about to renovate a spaceship," she said.
"Well, that is the idea," I said.
The Doctor glanced over, noticing properly for the first time. "Oh. Yeah. That's… very engineer-y."
"Why thank you," I said flatly.
Rose managed a small smile despite everything. "At least someone's got their life together."
"Yep," the Doctor said, gentle.
Rose swallowed. "Mickey thinks you kidnapped me."
The Doctor opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I didn't."
"I know," Rose said. She sounded tired more than angry. "But I didn't know what to say to him. Or Mum. Or…" Her eyes flicked to me. "To anyone."
"You don't owe them a perfect explanation," I said. "Just the truth you can actually tell."
Rose gave a short, humourless laugh. "Right. 'Hi Mum, sorry I vanished for a year. I was off travelling with an alien in a magic box.'"
The Doctor perked up on instinct. "Not magic."
Rose stared at him.
He shut his mouth.
Rose leaned on the console rail like she had before, but this time she faced us. She took a breath like she was choosing her words carefully.
"Okay," she said. "I need to understand something."
The Doctor nodded, suddenly still. "Go on."
Rose looked toward the doors, toward the estate, like she could see her mum through them. "Back home, no one knows. They don't know about aliens. They don't know about any of this. People get up, go to work, have tea, watch telly, and they've got no idea what's out there."
The Doctor's expression shifted. There was something protective in it, and something sad. "Earth forgets."
Rose frowned. "Forgets?"
"It's just how the human brain works." I said, joining into the conversation. "They turn it into something ordinary and normal. 'Oh it was just a gas leak.' 'It's definitely just a hoax.' 'It must be a film crew, are they making a new movie?' People pick the story that lets them sleep."
Rose's eyes narrowed. "So the whole planet is just… in denial."
"Not denial," the Doctor said. "Survival. Most of the time it's safer that way. The universe is big. If Earth remembered every time something looked your way—"
"But it happens," Rose said. Her voice tightened. "It happens and nobody notices. Nobody even—"
She stopped and gestured toward the doors, toward London.
"They don't even know aliens exist."
For a moment, the TARDIS hum was the only sound.
Then the sky answered her.
A low roar rolled over the estate. Distant at first, like thunder behind buildings, then rising fast into something metallic and wrong. It made my teeth vibrate.
Rose froze mid-breath. The Doctor's head snapped toward the doors.
"What's that?" Rose whispered.
The Doctor didn't answer. He moved, straight out the doors and into the courtyard.
I followed without thinking. Here we go.
Outside, people were already looking up. Someone shouted. A dog started barking like it had lost its mind.
A shadow slid across the courtyard as something huge passed overhead and blocked the sun for a split second.
Rose came out behind us, eyes wide. "Doctor—?"
He looked up, eyes widened.
"Oh," he said. "Oh, that's interesting."
Something was streaking over London. It sliced across the sky, trailing smoke, heading straight toward the river.
"Is that a plane?" someone yelled.
"That is not a plane," the Doctor murmured under hi breath more to himself than to answer the question.
"That's a spaceship," I said. "Well, Rose, here's your wish getting fulfilled."
Rose looked at me, concern written all over her face and swallowed.
We watched it clipping over the buildings toward the Thames.
Someone screamed.
"That was Big Ben!" another voice shouted. "It hit Big Ben!"
The Doctor's whole posture changed. Domestic guilt, gone. This was the bit he understood, it reinvigorated him completely.
Phones were out everywhere now, everyone was filming, shouting, and talking over each other.
I looked at the ship's trajectory, at the smoke coming out of the rear, at the way it was flying.
"Doctor," I said quietly. "That's not a crash."
He glanced at me.
"What?"
"That ship is under control," I said. "Look at the flight path. It's not tumbling. It's not out of control. The smoke isn't even coming from any important compartment. Someone's flying that ship straight into the Thames."
"Well, that's new."
His eyes narrowed as he tracked the smoke trail.
"You're right," he said slowly. "It's… staged."
"Very staged," I said. "The question is why?"
The stairwell door burst open suddenly.
Jackie came rushing out. "Rose!" she shouted. "Get back here!"
But Rose was past listening. Her eyes wer bright with fear and also excitement.
"But it's still a spaceship?" She asked.
"Yep," the Doctor answered.
"Here, over London."
"Yep."
"And you're going to go and see it closer?"
He grinned despite himself.
"Of course," he said. "Spaceship over London? That's like a summons with my name on it."
"Then I'm coming with you."
Jackie finally arrived just in time to hear her say that.
"Oh no you're not!" she said, out of breath. "You just got home safely. You're not running off again with— with—" she gestured at us. "—Them!"
"Mum," Rose said firmly. "I am going. You can either accept that or not."
"I already spent a year worrying!"
"Then one more hour won't make a difference," Rose shot back.
Jackie's face changed. Deep inside she understood she can't change or tell her anymore what to do with her life.
"Fine," she said. "But if you die, I'm killing both of them."
The Doctor blinked.
"That's… understandable."
I clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on," I said. "Let's see the show closer."
Rose grinned and followed us into the TARDIS.
Jackie stood in the courtyard with her arms crossed, her gaze following us walk back, looking like she wanted to set the blue box on fire out of spite.
"One hour!" she decided to shout after us. "You bring her back in an hour or I'm calling the police!"
"The police won't help!" the Doctor called back.
"Then I'll call someone worse!"
The doors shut.