The console room hit me like a tidal wave.
In Jonathan's memories, it looked like a set: all flash and no substance. But standing here now and feeling the TARDIS's systems thrumming through me like a second nervous system, I finally understood what the cameras had always missed.
Time pressed in from every angle. The room buzzed with thick, wild, living artron energy. The dimensional stabilisers were humming, but not quite in the right way. The temporal manifold was overheating. The navigation circuits appeared to be held together by sheer force of will and perhaps a touch of luck.
My Time Lord memories told me TARDIS console rooms were supposed to be sleek, all controlled chaos. This? Not even close.
The coral supports curled up and out like tree trunks holding up the sky. The uneven floor rolled in waves. Cables dangled everywhere. Nothing matched — it looked as if half the panels had been salvaged from scrapyards in three galaxies and a B&Q. In the centre, the time rotor rose and fell, its light bouncing over everything.
And under all that, I felt her.
Old. Battered. Proud. Refusing to give in.
You'd think it'd be overwhelming, coming back in after all those years locked out. But it just felt right. Like turning a key after ages away, stepping inside, and knowing you're home.
"Right then," Rose said, hands on her hips. "Are we actually going somewhere, or are you two just gonna stand around gawking at her all day?"
The Doctor opened his mouth, probably ready with some lecture about patience and time travel, but I was already moving. My hands landed on the console like they'd never left, fingers hovering over panels that practically shouted their troubles into my mind.
"He's doing that thing again," Rose said to the Doctor. "The intense staring thing. Both of you do it."
"It's not staring," the Doctor and I said together.
Rose snorted. "This is gonna be fun."
A pulse of warmth traveled straight from the metal into my fingertips. No words, just intent. Trust, offered carefully.
The Doctor flipped a few levers. The central column shuddered. The whole room tilted — only a little.
The way she responded made something twist in my chest.
"Careful," I blurted, before I could stop myself.
He looked up, one eyebrow raised.
"Sorry," I said. "She's running hot on column six. Push her like that, you'll shake the whole drive stack loose."
He squinted at me. "You can tell that from one tiny wobble?"
"Yes. And from the way she's whining at me."
The TARDIS let out another hum, sounding rather smug, as if she were enjoying seeing the Doctor get called out.
Rose frowned. "She's… whining?"
"He hears her clearer than most," the Doctor said. Then, to me, "Alright. Show me."
He stepped aside.
I circled the console, my hands hovering just above the panels. I didn't touch anything at first. I just listened for pressure points, overloaded relays and places where the shielding had been patched together with whatever was available.
"Did you seriously bypass the stabilizer with… is that a bicycle chain?" I leaned in. The chain looped around two connectors that definitely should've been joined by a proper harmonic damper. "That's actually brilliant. Brilliant, but terrible."
"It was a very good bicycle chain," the Doctor said, a bit defensive.
"I'm not judging. I'm impressed you survived the first jump."
My Enhanced Integration gift kicked in. All of my old TARDIS training came flooding back. I could see every component slotting into place in my head as if I'd never stopped.
I found that a panel was shaking incorrectly. I slid open the port underneath and felt the warmth of a relay that was about to blow.
"Your theta coupling's loose," I muttered, half-distracted, reaching for the tool I just knew would be — yep — third drawer down. "Someone's been running the time rotor without the proper coolant. She's managing, but it's wearing her down."
When I glanced up, both of them were staring.
The Doctor looked half-defensive — it was his TARDIS, after all — but mostly just fascinated. Maybe even a little relieved, seeing someone else understand her.
"Been flying her for years," he said, that old edge in his voice. "We manage."
"Yes, you do." I straightened up. "But she deserves more than just scraping by. She's brilliant. She needs more than patch jobs and hitting things until they work." I nodded at the rubber mallet hanging off the console.
I picked a non-critical dial, tturned it slightly, and switched a toggle.
The vibration under my feet evened out.
Rose grabbed the nearest support. "Is that safe?"
"It's safer than it was five seconds ago," I said. "I'm not touching the flight path. Just making the engines scream a little less."
The TARDIS responded with a warm, joyful chime that resonated deeply within me.
Rose burst out laughing. "She likes you."
"She remembers me," I said quietly. Then, I turned to the ship. "Missed you too, old girl. Sorry it took me so long."
The lights flickered brighter—a little hello, just for me.
The Doctor glanced at the monitors. Something he saw there made his mouth go tight, then he let it go.
"Not bad," he said. "For a first poke."
I grinned at him.
He watched us, his face impassive. Then he pushed away from the console and clapped his hands once.
"All right!" His grin returned, wild as ever. "We've got an Engineer, a human who thinks she can keep up, and a TARDIS who's apparently planning a coup. Might as well make it official."
Rose looked between us. "So you two are… co-workers? From the same place?"
"Sort of," I said. "He ran away. I stayed. Everything exploded. Now we're here."
She squinted at me, clearly thinking that made no sense at all.
"What's Gallifrey like?"
An orange sky. Silver trees. Towers and domes, and pompous idiots in ridiculous collars arguing about nothing. Children running around courtyards, destined to become part of the war.
"Complicated," I said. "I'll tell you about it when I figure out how much of it isn't just… ghosts."
The Doctor's shoulders twitched, barely. He didn't look up.
"Right!" he said, too loud. "Rose Tyler. Where do you want to go?"
She blinked. "What, now?"
"Yeah, now. Forward or backward? Pick one."
She bit her lip, thinking it over. "Forward. All the way."
Of course she does.
"Far future it is," the Doctor said, grinning.
He yanked a lever.
The time rotor kicked in with that familiar grind and rattle that makes every mechanic wince, even if you love it. The hum under our feet grew louder.
I took a step back to give him some space, but I stayed close enough to grab the stabilisers when they started malfunctioning. He shot me a look once or twice while I made a few adjustments. He never told me to stop.
Rose clung to the rail, laughing, hair flying everywhere as the whole room shook and then steadied.
"Where are we going?" she yelled over the noise.
"End of the world!" he shouted back. "Hold on!"
The End of the World. Cassandra. The Forest of Cheem. Platform One. The sun swallowing the Earth.
My hands moved over the console of their own accord, keeping pace with the Doctor's erratic flying. I wasn't sure whether I should interfere with what was coming or just let it happen. One thing at a time.
The TARDIS lurched once before settling into a smoother rhythm. The engines sounded more confident. She liked having someone on the other side who spoke her language.
So did he, as I could see from the way his hands started to match mine, falling into the same patterns.
The TARDIS's song wrapped around me. I could feel the vortex ahead, endless and wild and dangerous as anything.
It was the first time since waking up as Steven that I had actually felt like I belonged somewhere.
A few minutes later, the time rotor slowed down. The lights stopped flickering.
"We're here," the Doctor said, more quietly.
He flipped a lever. The main doors clicked.
"Year five point five slash apple slash twenty-six," he said, looking a little too pleased with himself. "Five billion years in your future. Give or take a few weeks."
Rose just stared. "What?"
"End of the world," he said again. "You wanted 'all the way.' That's all the way."
She glanced at the doors, then back at him, then me. "Is he serious?"
"Annoyingly, yes," I said.
"Come on," the Doctor said, already heading for the doors. "Last day of Earth. You'll love it."
He threw the doors open. Warm light poured in.
I felt the TARDIS nudge me as if to ask, 'Well?'
"All right, all right," I muttered. "I'm coming."
He strode out first. Rose hesitated, then followed.
I rested my hand on the console for a second.
"We'll do a proper service later," I whispered. "Full work-up. Promise."
She hummed, soft and happy, and my hearts finally settled.
Then I followed them out, into the future.