It's all AU.

Romana looked fairly chipper. Almost glowy, actually. It was a quite a turn, and seemed sudden to her too, but she'd slept a lot and decided not to question her good mood. She said brightly to the next person she saw, "Would you care for company with a meal?"

She might was well enjoy being fit to be around people.

Romana was, finally, not quite hiding. She was in the middle of New New York, on a park bench, reading. She looked quickly up from her book, at a familiar face. Just a much younger version or it.

"Jack?" she asked, clearly not sure.

Lucian did not care much for rain, but he was intrigued all the same. Standing right outside the hotel, under the porch, and watching the drizzle.

"I did not think there was weather here," he commented to a passer-by that did not smell native.

Perhaps the most disorienting part of his TARDIS materializing in the nexus was not the memories of being there before, but the memories of regenerating when he was quite sure he hadn't. ( Cut for length )

Romana was running down a street in New New York, towards the hotel. And crying. It was a bad combination. She stumbled on the hem of her cloak, and ended up leaning hard against a wall for a second, trying to clear her vision.

Romana had fled back to the old town. Fewer people, easier to deal with. She walked the streets, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes roving over the landscape like she expected it to rise up and bite her. When she heard a footstep, she whipped around.

Romana stumbled out a blue police box, and into the street, looking and feeling very dazed. Not anyone not a Time Lord or who didn't know her mental presence would know who they were looking at. They would see a women in a white cloak, with long dark brown hair and eyes that cleared from hazy blue grey to sharp and bright blue. She opened her pretty little mouth and spit out:

"Fuck."

The Doctor had been, well, trying to avoid Romana. Successfully, so far, but it was only a matter of time. It figured that when he ran into her, he actually ran into her, or bumped into her, anyway. He reached to steady her automatically, still looking in the direction of the thing he'd been chasing, and then realized who he'd bumped into. He looked a bit deer-in-the-headlights for just a second, and then at least attempted cheerily casual. "Hello, you. Heard you were around here someplace."

Romana was riding a bicycle.

It wasn't stealing if you intended to return it, and did it almost entirely to make someone twitch. Or cheer yourself up. The Doctor had taught her well.

She waved cheerfully to the next person she passed. There went her hat - she hadn't pinned down quite a enough.

"Oh, blast."

The problem with dramatic exits were that they were rarely well thought out. This one was no exception. He was dressed, yes, but he was still injured and he wasn't wearing any shoes. He also knew nearly nothing about where he was, or how many of the things here worked.

So, he made it to the elevator and then became rather stymied. With his head tilted to the side the fall of his blond hair covered the worst of his visible burns. He pushed a button experimentally, and narrowed his eyes to see what would happen. At the very least his feline curiosity had distracted him from his inner turmoil.

It was an extraordinarily gorgeous day even for fake New New York. The Master and Doctor had taken over a corner of Central Park to try to gather together cricket teams, from visitors or natives, whoever knew or was willing to learn the basic rules and play. Captaining opposing teams, of course. The easy banter back and forth indicated high, good spirits.

He'd been wandering around the city in his TARDIS, smiling a bit when she finally decided that perhaps she ought to pretend to be something other than a dumpster. Even if he wasn't sure that being a wall across an alley made it any easier to find the door.

Humming, he turned toward the street, and blinked before breaking into a broad smile.

"Lady Romana!"

Romana, frankly, stormed around the city for a while, and spotted beige.

"Answer me truthfully - can you cope with me quite angry at the universe and future versions of your yourself at the moment? I don't care to be alone."

Romana was peering into the window of a slightly shabby gift shop.

"Five billions years later and humanity is still making copies a portrait of one woman, with no eyebrows, which was a fake to begin with," she marveled. "I suppose it's comforting that it's not just our people who are so silly," she said, turning to the Master.

Romana slowed and paused in the dining hall of the hotel. "You're a new face. New to me, at least. I'm Romana."

One minute he was getting ready to go into The Academy again - better equipped this time, better prepared - and the next, he was looking around a city he'd never seen before. That...was definitely not things going according to plan.

This was actually very, very far from the plan.

He let out a breath and looked around, eyes wide. "What the - where - what?"

He'd just found Xin Rong dead on the floor of their home, completely drained, and Drusilla standing over her, laughing maniacally and very obviously waiting for his reaction.

He'd grabbed his sword and cut off her head without a second thought. Then he staggered outside, heart breaking and stomach churning - only to find that the street outside didn't look like turn of the century China any more. Somehow he seemed to have been transported to somewhere that looked like an extremely futuristic city.

William stared about him, panting and wild-eyed, bloody sword raised defensively. "Wha - what?"

He was in 'Old Whoville', which was to say the small town, with grass and trees, and a lovely little lake with ducks. He was sitting by that lake, feeding bits of breads to the ducks and humming to himself. He was, apparently, quite happy with the utter mundanity of it all. Just this once. For a little while.

He'd go find something exciting to do a bit later. When his head felt better and he felt more himself.

Maybe after he'd had another nap, or --

"Oh, hello. Care for a bit of a chat?"

After he'd had a nice talk with the first person to wander along.

He was in that kind of mood.

It had been months (Whoville time) since the TARDIS had quietly disappeared from view, taking her shattered and broken Time Lord with her. Where she'd gone was anyone's guess. How long it had been since the day the Doctor and ripped, pulled and torn, put every once of his energy and being, into silencing the drums in the Master's head, wasn't certain, either.

But, as the TARDIS door opened, it was possible to make a guess.

And from the look of the Doctor -- battered, with eyes that looked ancient and bruised, and hair that was more flat than wild -- it hadn't been nearly long enough. He stumbled to the nearest TARDIS (that wasn't his) and knocked heavily on the door. "Hello," he said, pleasantly enough but without energy. "I'm all out of tea. Can I bother you for a cup?"

He'd used all his.

"No, I'm afraid you don't understand," Theta said, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed, glaring at the automatron behind the candy counter. "I want a jelly baby and I want. one. now."