#madeathing

The Doctor woke up to arms around her waist, and a mess of curls in her face. She’d assumed it might happen a little less now that she was shorter, though of course River had just adapted, curling around her a little more than she’d used to. She really couldn’t complain. A sleepy smile played across her lips as she took in the scent of perfume still clinging to her wife’s skin. It was something expensive and vintage which came from a small green bottle, though the Doctor had never bothered to learn the name. To her the scent was River, and she felt no need to know more than that. “You’re thinking too loud.” The archaeologist murmured, the words breaking through the fog of sleep which was still clouding the Doctor’s mind. Arms which had been slung loosely around her waist tightened, pulling her a little closer, and a kiss was pressed to the region somewhere around her collar bone. River was, evidently, unwilling to lift her head for a real kiss, presumably unwilling to face the early sunlight streaming in through the artificial window in their room. It was very realistic, of course, though neither of the women in the bed seemed to appreciate the effort the TARDIS had put into creating it. A pretty alarm was still an alarm, and neither of them were quite content to leave their bed yet. “Mornin’, love…” The Doctor said, her voice quiet, and rough with sleep. She didn’t bother to acknowledge River’s comments on the volume of her thoughts, knowing her wife well enough by now to know she’d take any excuse to tease her. Opening her own eyes slowly, she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. River Song would never for a moment fail to take her breath away. She was stunning, of course, in those times she’d dolled herself up, wearing her lipstick like armour, ready to take on the whole Universe, but there was something infinitely more beautiful about seeing her bathed in the soft light, turning her halo of curls a million shades of copper and gold. She loved the swagger and glamour and flirting, but this River was all hers. She wondered idly if River saw her the same way in these moments. She was just as guilty of putting on a show for imagined audience as River was. The image she portrayed wasn’t as hardened or rough, but the valley between persona and person ran far deeper than perhaps anyone else knew. It wasn’t just that nobody expected to see the oncoming storm cuddling her wife in a set of cupcake-print pyjama shorts, though admittedly she doubted they did, it was the fact that in this space, she knew that nobody expected the world of her. She could just be her, and that was okay. Here there were no planets to save, or spectators to play to. There were no pretences with them. There didn’t need to be a River Song, or a Doctor, they could just be two people who were very much in love, and who, for a few glorious minutes, could live for one another. “Sweetie.” River chided her softly, and the Doctor’s eyes flicked downwards again, seeing that she’d pulled back from their embrace just enough to peer up at her. “Stop overthinking and go back to sleep.” As if on cue, the light streaming through the window dimmed. River always had been the TARDIS’s favourite. The corner of the Doctor’s lips curled up, and for once she didn’t protest the concept of staying in bed. One of the very best things about having a time machine, she’d decided, was that these quiet moments could last as long as she decided they would, and nobody was around to hurry her into stopping. She tightened her arms around River’s shoulders, holding her close, and pressing her face into the woman’s hair, as though savouring every last minute of closeness they had. The scent of that perfume overwhelmed her senses, and she seemed entirely content to just ride out that wave of bliss as long as it would last. “A few more minutes.” She conceded tiredly, her eyes falling shut again as sleep threatened to overtake her entirely. The Doctor woke up to an empty bed. The blankets were still tangled around her legs, though this time they felt

So admittedly, under normal circumstances, a week’s mandatory leave wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Kate enjoyed her job, but it was hardly low stress, and being able to spend a bit of time with her family was always nice. She wasn’t the kind of workaholic who’d complain about time off just for the sake of complaining, but so far she was finding this particular break just a little irritating. She knew why she was off, of course. She’d been heavily involved with writing the new rules regarding compromised employees following the incident with the silence. Employees exposed to unknown alien technology or substances, even when no immediate symptoms were removed from any active duties for seven days while assessments and testing were conducted. It was inelegant, but it was the best they could do until they’d managed to work out a better way of detecting psychic tampering. If anything, it was the suddenness with which her, Sam and Osgood had been packed off following the mission-gone-wrong which was the most annoying for her. They’d had to have brief initial assessments of their mental state, and then… Well, nothing. They’d even been supervised on their way back to their offices to collect their things, to make sure that nothing was tampered with along the way. So far, it had been three days, and she was already bored out of her skull. While the monitoring being done on them was minimal, she wasn’t really meant to be going anywhere public, just in case, so that put getting most errands she’d been putting off done out of the question, and the none stop rain meant that gardening wasn’t an option either. Gordon was still away at University, Henry was staying with his father for the length of the school break, leaving her alone in the house with a rather glum looking goldfish, and a duty of care over Henry’s pet mouse. The house, which had been spotlessly clean by lunchtime on day one, seemed far too quiet. Kate was used to at least having Henry running around, if not a half dozen of his friends— this was something new. It especially didn’t help that him being at his fathers meant that the only phone calls she got were brief goodnights from him (which she loved) and snarky comments from her ex (which she definitely didn’t). She tried to read a book, but nothing seemed to hold her attention very long. She tried to drown out the quiet with a film, but she could never settle long enough to reach the end of one. She was restless, constantly on her feet, and she was sure it would have been winding everybody around her up, if there was anybody around her. She hadn’t even reached lunchtime on day three before she finally got fed up enough to try calling the others. She tried Sam first, eager to check on him, given that it had been her fault he’d been pulled into the mission anyway— he hadn’t even been back in the country a day when he’d been dragged into the messy reconnaissance mission. He didn’t pick up; presumably making better use of his time off than she was. Osgood, mercifully picked up on the first ring. “Kate?” She sounded surprised, and more enthusiastic than Kate had expected. Perhaps she’d been bored too. She made an affirmative noise back down the phone, the smile on her face evident in her voice. She’d not been looking forward to spending another day trying to maintain a conversation with Elvis the mouse— though he was admittedly a little more chatty than Bubbles. “Is something wrong? I didn’t think I was down for another assessment until tomorrow.” “Oh, no. No.” She assured quickly, shaking her head as though Osgood could see her. “No, I just thought I’d…” She hadn’t particularly thought about what she’d say, too glad of the opportunity to speak to someone at all to think ahead. “…Just thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing.” There was a long moment’s pause, before Osgood spoke again. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” “Oh completely.” Kate admitted, without hesitation, and with seemingly no embarrassment. Osgood always had been fairly good at seeing through her. “Aren’t you?” “I didn’t think I’d be.” She

said, tone fairly chipper, though there was an edge of disappointment masked behind it. “I do have a project I’m working on, but I had to leave the tools I needed behind so… I’m watching a lot of bad sci-fi films.” Kate laughed a little at that. “Isn’t that a bit of a busman’s holiday?” She asked, hoping that she wouldn’t come across as condescending. “I suppose. It can be fun, though— and it isn’t as though these tropes haven’t come into play in the past. It’s almost like research.” “I’m not convinced on that one.” Kate replied fondly. She was sat back on the sofa, now, a little more relaxed than she had been in a few days. “Not in a conventional sense, maybe.” Osgood conceded. Kate could hear the smile in her voice, and it wasn’t hard to picture her sitting there in her— it was a Wednesday, so that usually meant she’d be wearing the question mark jumper, though admittedly she wasn’t sure if that was something she’d have been wearing at home or not. She found herself smiling at the image anyway, even if it might not have been entirely accurate. “Which one are you up to now?” “Invasion of the body snatchers.” She said cheerfully, pausing for a moment, before adding, “I know it’s a bit on the nose, but I love this one.” “Well,” Kate raised an eyebrow at the choice. “I can’t say I’ve seen it, but I can see what you mean, if the title is anything to go by.” “You haven’t seen it?” “I don’t watch much sci-fi.” She could blame her upbringing for that one. Her father had never been a big fan of films with aliens in them (something which made an awful lot more sense looking back on it than it had at the time), and even once she’d gotten a little older her mother hadn’t wanted her watching anything which she’d thought was ‘too violent’. She’d never developed much of a taste for it, and she supposed since neither of her boys had ever shown much of an interest it had all just passed her by. The conversation lulled for a moment, as both considered where to go next. She could hear the squeaking of a mouse wheel somewhere in the distance, and made a mental note to refill the water when she got the chance. It didn’t particularly need refilling, but it would give her something to do. “Ma’am?” That was enough to make her straighten up slightly, sending her back into ‘work mode’ all at once. She made an affirmative noise, prompting Osgood to keep going without actually saying anything of substance. “As my boss—” Well that was always a good start to a question, “Would I technically be breaking any rules if I were to say, come over and bring the DVD with me? For research purposes, obviously.” The tension which had settled over Kate again at having been addressed like that seemed to ebb away once it became apparent that the formality was only a joke. Thinking for a moment over the rules they’d set up, Kate eventually decided that, no, that technically wouldn’t break any rules. There was nothing in place about not seeing other UNIT personnel who were compromised. “I don’t see why that would be a problem.” She replied, putting on that same act of mock-formality, just for the fun of it, as well as to hide just how excited she was at the prospect of having someone to actually talk to. “I can be there in—” There was a pause, and Kate could picture her glancing at her watch. “Seventeen minutes?” It was highly specific, but being well used to Osgood by this point, Kate didn’t even question it. “Sounds fantastic. I’ll see you then.” The sudden improvement in her mood following Osgood’s assurances of a visit was something which Kate would, for the most part, put down to her relief at finally having something besides her own company to contend with. Of course, were she pressed a little harder she might have admitted that Osgood did tend to have a positive impact on her mood no matter what it’d been like before. The core members of UNIT tended to work well together, and she’d admit that her team were closer friends than she’d ever really expected them to become (something to do with shared secrets, she supposed), but her

and Osgood had always clicked, even back when they’d barely begun working together. There was a knock at the door eighteen minutes after their phone call had ended, because Osgood never seemed to be particularly wrong about anything, and she very quickly made her way to let her inside. Evidently she’d been right about the question mark jumper. She really couldn’t place why the fact that she’d known that gave her such a warm feeling, but it did. “Hi,” Osgood greeted her warmly, though she was a little out of breath. Though the rain had held off for a couple of hours, her face was reddened by the vicious winds that had taken its place. Kate was quick to usher her inside, glad once it was shut and the cold was kept firmly outside. “Osgood,” Kate said, trying not to sound too relieved. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How’re you getting on? Not hypnotised yet?” She knew that some of her team weren’t keen on her making jokes out of serious situations, but Osgood had never really seemed to mind. “Not yet.” She assured, tone just as light as she unwound the ludicrously over-long scarf from around her neck, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door to try and keep it off the floor, though even with it looped around twice one end was still perilously close to the tiles. “Well that’s good then. You know, if I’d have thought through how bad I am at not being busy I’d have made the isolation time shorter.” “No you wouldn’t have.” Osgood replied, shooting her a knowing smile. She was right, as always. “No.” Kate conceded, inclining her head to one side slightly in a ‘you win’ kind of way. “But I’d have made sure I had something more useful to do at home.” “Well,” Osgood held up a black disc binder by the carrying handle on the spine of it, “I’ve brought a fair few films, if it’s the aliens you’re missing. Kate was fairly sure it was the company more than the aliens she’d missed, though she had no doubt that Osgood’s being here would be just as good for that. “The DVD player is under the telly,” She said, pointing her in the vague direction of the front room (as though Osgood wasn’t around often enough to know for herself by now), before taking a few steps towards the kitchen. When she got a quizzical look, she just said, “I’m going to go make tea first.” “Oh right.” “Still milk and one sugar?” She asked, though she knew the answer. “Oh I can’t have—” “Regular milk, I know. I’ve got soy in.” She assured, trying not to think too hard about the fact she still regularly bought it, despite nobody who lived in the house drinking it. The film was more enjoyable than she’d actually been expecting, though Kate suspected that it had more to do with the company than the content— it wasn’t the kind of thing she’d have usually gone for, but they had a good time poking fun at the effects and inaccuracies, and once or twice recalling war stories about similar creatures they’d run into. She was well aware they’d have sounded mad to anybody walking past, but that much didn’t really seem to matter— it was the most fun she’d had all week, and it’d certainly left her feeling much better about the prospect of several more days off work. If she didn’t know any better, Kate might have had to consider the option that chatting with Osgood in a morning was the part of her day she’d been missing but… No. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, and she wasn’t about to get caught up in silly crushes as though she was. They were about half way through the second film of the afternoon (Kate hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember the title, though it had some rather alarming old-school fish people special effects which reminded her oddly of the sea devils), when tiredness seemed to hit Osgood, who seemingly without thinking about it leant into Kate’s side slightly. All of a sudden the film became even less interesting to her, as she instead began overanalysing every move either of them had made throughout the night and thinking that maybe, despite her own assurances, she was about to be dragged into the kind of silly teen cliché she’d been

so desperate to avoid. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d caught her affections for the brunette straying into a realm that was a little less than platonic, but she was usually able to catch when her thoughts strayed into a dangerous place and talk herself down, finding it easy enough to convince herself that she was overthinking things. Somehow that was a little harder to do without the distraction of a looming alien invasion on the horizon, or a lab bench which she could put between them. Kate was rather suddenly distracted from her rapidly spiralling thoughts and drawn back into the moment when Osgood leant away from her. Osgood couldn’t have actually been leaning on her all that long, but she found she already missed the feeling, not that she could exactly comment on it. “Kate?” She said, looking almost concerned. A weight dropped into the pit of Kate’s stomach as she realised that Osgood had likely been trying to speak to her while she’d been lost in her own panicked thoughts. “Sorry.” She shook her head trying to clear it. “Must have zoned out for a second there. What were you saying?” Osgood didn’t look as though she bought that for a second. Kate was once again struck with the sense that her friend could see right through her— she never had been able to hide anything when her friend was around. “Are you alright?” Osgood asked, something unreadable in her expression. It was particularly annoying being unable to tell what she was thinking when her own feelings seemed to be etched plain on her face. “Just a good film, that’s all.” Osgood raised an eyebrow, and Kate sighed. “I’m just thinking. It’s nothing, just been on my own a bit too much this week.” “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. “That’s really not a good idea.” She glanced back up at Osgood. Despite the rather impressive display of confidence, she was toying with her glasses in that way she always did when she got nervous. It was the sort of gesture she was more used to seeing in the lab when they were attempting some particularly risky experiment, or whenever they had to fly, rather than in her own front room. She’d have been lying if she said she had no idea what was making her nervous. Somehow she got the impression that their minds were in the same place. “Why’s that?” Osgood asked, sounding far less casual than she clearly thought she was being. The woman on screen let out a scream, but neither of them were paying anywhere near enough information for the bloodbath playing out in the film to distract them. “Well.” Kate took a breath, trying hard not to focus on the fact that they suddenly felt entirely too close to one another on her sofa. “It breaks about fifteen rules for a start.” “Sixteen.” Osgood corrected her, because of course she knew that. “The consensus appears to be that they’re rarely enforced unless someone makes a direct complaint.” “Sixteen.” Kate parroted back, the word sounding hollow to her own ears. It could not have been more clear that she’d hardly considered it. It took her a moment to register that Osgood had eventually been looking into not only the rules, but also their enforcement. “You’ve been thinking about it then?” she questioned, trying to sound offhand, and failing completely. It was odd how quickly she went to pieces around people she liked— she always had, though, ever since Johnathan. It rarely ended well for her, but then she rarely had the kind of foundation to build off of as she did with Osgood. The brunette adjusted her glasses again, nerves shining through a little more. “I– Well. Josh mentioned that he thought something might be going on. Between us, I mean— I-I mean, we’re friends, he knows that. But—” “I know what you mean.” Kate assured, before Osgood could work herself into a panic. “You do?” Osgood was smiling now. She sounded somewhere between relieved and eager, and it was impossible not to smile at the way she was grinning at Kate like that… It made her heart leap in her chest. Sensible as she was trying to be, she’d defy anyone to see that smile given to them

“You have to go home.” It was a testament to how strongly Josh believed that fact that he’d given up on any kind of honorific or politeness— even in particularly dire circumstances he didn’t tend to completely disregard the chain of command, at least not while they were in HQ. Similarly, it was a testament to just how hyper focused on her work Kate was that she didn’t even look up when he spoke, though she did come rather close to proving his point when she fumbled the glassware in hand. Luckily there was nothing volatile in it (as far as she knew, at least), though the glittering purple solution in sloshed against the side of the beaker, coming alarmingly close to splashing on her skin. Of course, she wouldn’t have admitted it if pressed, but she had no idea how safe this stuff was for direct contact. “No.” She responded bluntly, evidently seeing no issue with the near-miss. “You haven’t been off base in days.” There was a pleading note in his voice which Kate didn’t seem to pay any heed to, continuing with— well, whatever test it was she was running now. “I can sleep fine in my office.” Her reply came, just as curt as before. “Even if that was true,” As soon as she’d put down what she was working on and he could do so safely, Josh reached out to grab her wrist. He was gentle about it, but he couldn’t speak to her while she was still desperately trying to work through the fog of tiredness that was so painfully evident. “We both know you haven’t slept in days.” “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” She said, though the old joke didn’t land quite as well in that moment as it might have previously. “You’re not helping Osgood by doing this.” It was the first time in days anyone had actually said her name, at least around Kate, and it had a visible effect on her demeaner. She could put up as many walls as she wanted, but the minute someone mentioned the missing scientist the cracks began to show, something which really wasn’t helped by how exhausted she clearly was. “There’s a residue.” Kate insisted, for what had to be the hundredth time. “This isn’t like the transport capsule. There’s a residue this time, if we can find out what it is…” She shook her head before she could suggest bringing Osgood back. She didn’t know if that was an option yet, and as much as she was unwilling to accept the alternative, she knew that getting her hopes up wasn’t helpful either. That vague glittering in the air, still hanging suspended beside the artifact after all these days. It sparkled with a vague blue tinge, insubstantial but clearly there, like dust illuminated by a beam of sunlight. It was the only thing she had to cling to. That was where she’d been standing when she’d vanished, so it was all that Kate had to work with to get her back. “I know.” Josh sounded resigned, “And we’re going to find out what happened, but—” “But we can’t do that until I find out what this is.” Kate finished, drawing her own conclusion to her colleague’s words. They both knew she was wilfully ignoring the obvious implication behind them. “You have a whole team.” He reminded, though his voice had softened significantly, seeming to have noticed the desperate edge which hers had taken on. He kept his hand curled around her wrist, stopping her from going back to her work before she could get herself hurt. “You haven’t got to be the only one to figure this out.” On a logical level, Kate knew he was right. Her work was suffering from her stubborn refusal to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, and she was quickly running out of things to try. She knew, too, that this was why they’d been such a bad idea in the first place. There were rules against relationships like theirs exactly to prevent these kinds of incidents, but that didn’t mean that she was willing to step away. She’d have stood staring at the spot were Osgood had vanished for years if there was even the slightest chance of bringing her back. “We’re all worried about her.” Somehow that was what it took in the end. Kate’s shoulders slumped slightly, and it was suddenly taking all the effort

It was hard not to notice that the Doctor seemed to be deliberately avoiding the 1960s since picking her up. Helen was, of course, rather grateful about that— not only did it spare her the risk of bumping into somebody she knew, it also meant that there was no real risk of her arrest for one of the biggest art thefts in the history of the British Museum— both things that she was keen to avoid. That didn’t mean that at times she didn’t miss it, though. The TARDIS seemed to suspect as much, given that despite not having had much in the way of possessions to bring along when she’d come on board (she’d stopped at her flat for a few sentimental items, but had hardly had time to pack her bags in case the police turned up on her doorstep) her room had been filled with things which might have been from home. She said could have been, because she got the distinct impression that they were more than likely reproductions from a fair way ahead of her (judging by some of the smaller details, at least), but she still more that appreciated the ship’s efforts. It had done wonders for her homesickness to be able to retreat into a corner and put on old records as though her whole world hadn’t shifted. She had to admit, she was a little caught off guard when they landed in a place that looked an awful lot like the London she was used to. Of course, it never changed that much, at least not when they visited it in the same century she was used to, but this wasn’t just similar— the buildings were identical to when they’d been built. “Is it safe for me to be here?” She asked the Doctor, rather more quietly than she might normally have done, clearly worried about drawing attention to herself. She was so worried, in fact, she hardly noticed the car moving along the road beside her which seemed to be hovering a foot or so off of the tarmac. “I’m not sure I remember those from Earth.” Liv mentioned, nodding vaguely at the vehicles to draw Helen’s eye to them. It was odd; they looked just like cars she might have seen on the road back home; right down to the open-top-busses and black cabs, but even if some days it seemed as though the British Museum had been another lifetime, she was still fairly sure that cars had never hovered ominously above the road surface back home. “Yes, those aren’t quite right…” She said, sounding thoroughly baffled. She looked to the Doctor, who seemed unphased by how put off they were. He had the air of a child on their first holiday, staring at everything with a kind of energy few could have matched. Still, he did eventually notice that Helen had addressed him— after he got a sharp elbow in the ribs from Liv. “Hm?” Was about all he said, before seeming to catch up with his own train of thought. “Oh, right. This isn’t Earth.” Helen blinked a few times, and while Liv seemed to take as much in her stride, it was somewhat more of a leap of logic for someone who had lived in this city her whole life. “…This does look a lot like London, Doctor.” She pointed out, though honestly, nothing would fully surprise her any more. “Styles come back around.” The Doctor announced vaguely, looking around with the uncertain air of a tourist without a map, and then taking off in a seemingly random direction. At this point, neither of his friends were under any illusion that he knew where he was going, but they followed along anyway. “So this is— what?” Helen asked, looking around at the familiar buildings, and spotting several high-tech additions which wouldn’t have made sense in their original context, “A future version of Earth?” “It’s a colony. Like Kaldor—” He turned to look at Liv, “But a few centuries before your time. The rest of the population has had less time to put their stamp on things. The whole city still bares the eccentricities of the founding families.” Turning back to Helen, he finished his little lesson, “These ones were from London— and from the looks of it, had a bit of an affinity with your time, Helen.” “So why are we here?” She asked, trying to batten down the odd sense of the uncanny she got

walking past a British Museum that had a few too many columns with just a bit too much space in between them— as though the place had been subtly expanded, while trying to maintain the look of the original. “Well, I need to go to a parts market.” He clapped his hands together. “Terribly boring stuff, I’m afraid, but they sometimes have the right couplings here, and the ones on the TARDIS are wearing a bit thin.” Helen might not have understood exactly what he was talking about, but she really didn’t like the concept that there were important TARDIS repairs were hanging on a maybe. “So where’s this market then?” Liv asked, looking far more relaxed in this place than Helen was, despite it ostensibly seeming more like her time. “Well, I thought you two might want to just…” He shrugged, “Have a wonder around.” Two sets of eyebrows shot up. They both remembered what had happened the last time the Doctor had taken them to a colony world and then let them loose on their own. Neither was prepared for another robot rampage. “What?” He asked, before either had even said a word. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Are you sure that’s a good idea, after Kaldor?” Helen asked, being rather more blunt about it than she might otherwise have been. He waved them off, “Oh, you’re fine. I’m sure you’ll have much more fun exploring than standing in an auction room all evening.” Neither of them were prepared to deny that that was true. “Excellent, then it’s settled.” The Doctor clapped his hands together, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Just meet back at the TARDIS when you’re done. Do you remember where we parked?” “Better than you do, probably.” Liv remarked. Helen bit back a laugh. If the Doctor heard the sarcasm in her tone he didn’t acknowledge it. “Good, good.” He said, more to himself than them, and then, just like that, he’d disappeared off into a seemingly random side street. A day to just explore, with no danger breathing down their necks or threatening to destroy the Universe, was a real rarity— enough so that it took them a few minutes to even decide on what to do with their newfound freedom. In the end, Helen decided to see how far instinct would take her. Spotting a familiar red and blue underground sign, she took Liv’s hand and began to pull her over to it, not wanting to lose her in the platform crowd. “Where are we going?” Liv called over the buzz of the commuters around them. “I’ve absolutely no idea.” Helen admitted. “I’m just sort of going with it.” Liv laughed, though the sound was lost in the bustle of the platform. Still, the sight alone was enough to bring a smile to Helen’s face. Whatever nerves she’d had about this whole thing were, slowly, beginning to ebb away. After a while, Helen had begun to realise what the Doctor had meant about style. While a lot of things looked right, the whole place seemed more a pantomime of the 1960s than the real thing— everything was just a little too bright and shiny, coated in a thin veneer of unreality. The underground stations looked the same, but they were squeaky clean, there was nobody smoking, and she didn’t have that same nervous urge to look out for pickpockets. The trains were almost the same, though, she noted with some vague sense of relief, they seemed a little bigger, and the ventilation inside seemed to have been improved, making the short trip significantly more comfortable than she was used to. The people too, proved to be oddities in their own right. Their clothing was about what she’d expect from back home, albeit often in more garish colours, but things kept catching her eye which just didn’t… fit. Sometimes it was obvious, like the young woman sitting at the end of the carriage with a large purple lizard curled up in her lap like a dog, complete with leash, or they green-skinned humanoid in the business suit who’d slipped on at the station after there’s, but some were so mundane she might not have noticed them. Two old women sat together in the priority seats, chatting away as though they were the only ones around.

She’d initially assumed they might have been sisters, until she caught a glimpse of interlocked fingers and matching rings. Her eyes flicked around, looking out for anyone about to give them trouble but… nobody even seemed to be paying them any mind. Two young men got on at the next stop. There were a couple of seats left empty, but they didn’t seem bothered with them. The taller of the pair grabbed onto one of the plastic rings hanging from the ceiling, while the other kept his back pressed to the wall, one hand curled lazily around a handrail. A cheeky smile was exchanged, and then the taller took advantage of his position, leaning forwards with one hand still wrapped around the overhead support and kissed the younger. It was quick and sweet— nothing particularly scandalous at all, and when they pulled away both looked perfectly happy. Helen’s breath caught in her throat. For the briefest moment, her heartrate quickened, and she had visions of the backlash they’d encounter— of harsh words, and police, or worse, of violent people taking things into their own hands. She wanted them to just run at the next stop. She wanted them to get out of sight before they could get hurt. Liv’s hand settled on her wrist, snapping her out of it, and drawing her eye away from the couple. “You alright?” She asked, voice warm, and full of concern. “You were staring a bit.” Helen faltered, and all of a sudden the strangeness of her surroundings hit again; The weird grunting noises the pet lizard creature was making, the green man rustling his newspaper, the old women chattering away about the price of flyers these days. This looked like home, but it most certainly wasn’t. There was no danger here— at least not for two people just trying to be happy in each other’s company. “I—” She took a breath, her eyes settling on a loose thread in the garishly patterned seat cover behind Liv. It was easier than looking her in the eye. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just a little uncanny, that’s all. It looks like home but—” Her eyes flicked back to the couple. Liv was quick to follow her gaze. “Is this about—” She began, but Helen shook her head quickly. “…We can go back to the TARDIS if it’s a bit much?” Liv suggested. She was right of course. They’d hardly gone off with much of a destination in mind, and it wasn’t as though they’d travelled many stops, but… Well, Helen found herself wanting to see more. “No, no it’s fine. I’m fine, just… It’s strange, that’s all. It’s a good kind of strange, though, I suppose. Freeing.” Liv raised an eyebrow at her. “Freeing?” “Well.” Helen hesitated, “I have to think a little less about acting properly. If people can—” her eyes turned back to the couple for a half second, and then back to Liv. “And nobody comments, I could…” she shook her head quickly, dismissing that train of thought. “You could…?” Liv asked, curious, and clearly unwilling to give up on finding out what she’d been thinking. It was so very like her, prying, but being gentle enough about it to try and make sure that Helen had the space to process what she was thinking. It might have been annoying but… Well, Helen was well aware of her usual temptation to bottle such things up inside. A part of her couldn’t help but wonder if doing things this way might be healthier. “Well. I could do anything, couldn’t I?” She asked. “I could—” Another head shake, as though she didn’t quite feel right voicing it. “The two of us could… And nobody would even look twice.” She didn’t feel right saying the words, and Liv didn’t push her too. The implication had been clear. “You… You think about that a lot then? You and me?” Helen’s heart picked up again, and she twisted her hands together in her lap, letting out a slow breath. All of a sudden, the space between their seats felt a lot smaller. “Sometimes.” She admitted, slowly. “I do too.” Liv said, as though it was the most mundane thing in the world. Somehow, that helped. “Not here though.” Helen clarified, perhaps a little too quickly. “I’m not sure I’m ready for—” Liv’s hand was on hers again now, and

“You really need to take a break.” It was a good measure of just how focused on the task at hand Liv was (or perhaps just to how little she’d slept in the last few days) that she didn’t look up, even when directly addressed.

Helen could see why she was so stressed about all of this, she really could. The accident had been nasty, at least so far as she understood it. A bioweapon which would have killed either of them if they’d been in the room when it was triggered. The Doctor had taken the full force of it (in what she suspected was an ill thought through attempt to protect them), and had insisted that he could metabolise it with a few day’s rest, but he’d been worryingly silent ever since. Once the initial fear wore off she’d almost enjoyed it at first. The Doctor had said he just needed rest, Liv had said his health didn’t seem to be severely impacted (beyond the unconsciousness), and a short break from all the insanity did tend to be hard to come by. It helped, she thought, that they’d landed somewhere in her childhood years, albeit a good deal further North than she’d ever really been. There was a sense of nostalgia in that little village that sat a way off, and she’d even been tempted to try and persuade Liv to head towards it with her. She was sure she’d be able to make some pretence about getting real food for once, rather than the stuff from the machines on the TARDIS, which always tasted just a little too acidic. Of course she’d never actually gotten around to making that request. The med bay was a little distracting at the minute. She’d found it was a lot of fun to see Liv properly in her element. Of course, she’d known Liv was a doctor since they met (or a med tech, though she never had been able to get a straight answer on what the difference was), but seeing her in action was something different entirely. It was impressive, really, how quickly she took to technology which had to be vastly different from what she was used to. The TARDIS seemed to be being especially helpful when it came to translations (Helen had noticed she could be a little selective when it came to what Gallifreyan symbols she’d translate for them), which should really have been her first sign that this illness wasn’t quite as simple as the Doctor suggested it was, though admittedly Helen had been a little distracted by the pretty medic buzzing around the place to see the warning signs at first. Liv seemed to see the signs first— which made sense, really. From what she’d said, Helen could gather that Doctor’s condition had stagnated. He didn’t appear to be getting any worse, which was good, but there wasn’t any visible change for the better either. There was no sign anything was really wrong; none of the pallor or wheezing that she’d come to associate with sickness, but then why wasn’t he showing any signs of improvement? He might have been sleeping, if either of them had the faintest idea how to wake him. As the days passed, she found that she actually had two people to worry about. The Doctor was a given, but there wasn’t much that she could do to help that situation. Liv hid it well, but she was pretty sure that they were both fairly out of their depth when it came to understanding the unique nature of his biology. He’d mentioned healing comas before, so there was every chance that this was normal for his species, but he’d given so little detail that they didn’t have much chance. Helen, feeling rather useless by day three, had tried to do some research, though the TARDIS had been deliberately unhelpful, rearranging the books even as she searched, and so she hadn’t found much that would be of any use. With each day that passed she realised one thing she didn’t like about seeing Liv going into doctor mode, and that was that her utter fixation on the task at hand. Of course, it was good at first, when they were trying to gather as much information as they could (and when the Doctor’s condition had been more dire), but as time went on Helen became acutely aware that it was only her badgering which was getting Liv to look after herself at all. She didn’t like to think how long it would have taken her friend to remember to grab food if she wasn’t around to press the issue. They were five days in by the time she decided that a break was desperately

needed. Liv didn’t seem to agree. “I’m just—" She gestured vaguely at the screen in her hands, which showed a mess of data that Helen certainly couldn’t have decoded on the fly, though by sight alone she could see no difference from what had been there before. “Any change?” Helen asked, a hopeful note creeping into her voice despite herself. She trusted the Doctor’s assurances that he would be okay, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t going to be stuck here for a while. She leant over Liv slightly, just enough to place a cup of tea down on the nearest flat surface to her. Coffee might have been a better choice, but she wasn’t entirely sure how much she should be encouraging Liv’s appalling sleep schedule. Liv shook her head, and Helen did her best not to let the disappointment show, given that that seemed a sure-fire way to stress her out even further. They were both doing their best, and keeping positive was the best they could do in the moment. “So he isn’t getting worse?” She asked as though that was the most pressing issue in that moment. They were both glad he wasn’t deteriorating, of course, but still, there was something unsettling about the lack of any change. “No.” Liv said. There was an unspoken but hanging perilously close to the end of the sentence. Evidently she seemed to decide against voicing it out loud. She didn’t really need to, they both knew the situation. It wasn’t clear how long this stable unconsciousness could last, or which way his health would flip when they eventually did see a change. “When was the last time you took a break?” Helen asked, and when Liv immediately opened her mouth to offer a reply, she cut her off with a condition. “And leaving the room to shower doesn’t count as a break.” “I need to keep an eye on this.” She insisted, defensive. Helen sighed. At times like this it wasn’t hard to see why her and the Doctor were friends. Liv could also be stubbornly helpful to the point of self destruction. “Liv...” She said, trying to sound as calming as she could. She refused to start an argument over this, not when tensions were already running so high. “Liv you can’t do more than you already—” “Someone needs to be here when he wakes up. In case something goes wrong.” That desperation in Liv’s voice wasn’t entirely new, she’d heard it before, but it was usually reserved for those situations where they had no way out. At least in Helen’s mind they hadn’t quite reached that point yet. “You can’t do much if you make yourself sick with worry.” She tried, leaning against the edge of the seat where Liv had practically taken up residence. “Please just— give yourself an hour? We’ll stay right outside, get a bit of fresh air.” The last time she’d gone out of the TARDIS doors (walking down into the village to grab some real milk) the weather hadn’t looked brilliant, but she was hoping that the rain would hold off. A bit of time away from the stale monotony of this unchanging hospital room would do them both good. “If something changes…” “He said he was going to be okay.” Helen reminded. “Since when do we listen to what he says?” Liv asked. For the first time in days Helen managed a smile, though it was forced enough to make the mood seem even more sour. “Point taken.” Helen said, a sad edge to her tone. Not one to be beaten, she nudged Liv lightly in the arm, gesturing for her to stand. “Come on. We don’t know how long this…” She trailed off, unsure what to even call the state the Doctor was in now. “…this. We don’t know how much it lasts. You can’t sit in here forever.” “I probably could.” Liv argued, though there was a touch more humour behind her words now. They were both still worried, but she seemed just a little more amenable to Helen’s suggestion of a quick break. “You’d get rickets.” She said, so matter-of-factly that it shocked a laugh out of Liv. She tried not to look too proud at having done so. “You’re a doctor, you should know that.” “Med-tech.” Liv corrected, though there was a sort of exasperated fondness to the way she said it. The Doctor had introduced them

both in so many different period-appropriate (and, on occasion, hideously inappropriate) ways that neither of them really questioned it– most of the time, at least. “If you can call me a codebreaker” she said, trying her best to keep up these tentative good spirits for as long as she could, “Then you can’t complain about me calling you a doctor.” “Which just proves I should be in here where I can help.” Helen deflated slightly. She really did think she’d been making headway there. Changing her strategy, she leant against the wall opposite Liv, and looked around at all the equipment. It didn’t look much like the kind hospitals she was used to; the technology was far ahead of her time, but this was still the TARDIS, and so she could pick out just as many pieces that might have looked at home in the world of Jules Verne as the far future. “You know, I’m not sure I’d have the faintest idea what any of this stuff does.” She remarked, glancing back over at her friend, who’d already gone back to messing with the scanner again. “Hm?” Liv hummed in acknowledgement that she’d spoken, though she sounded very much as though she hadn’t been fully listening. “Oh I’m just saying,” Helen pushed off the wall so she was standing straight again, moving to examine something which looked like it might have been some kind of scanner, though, frankly, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know where I’ll start when you make yourself sick with worry and I’m the one having to deal with all this.” Once again, she startled a laugh out of Liv with that statement, though this time the smile remained in place afterwards, rather than immediately fading as the gravity of their situation settled on them again. She shook her head, but set the scanner down in the process, standing up. “If I agree to come sit with you for a bit will you stop threatening to practice medicine?” “Definitely.” Helen promised, looking proud of herself despite everything. “I’m taking this with me, though.” Liv picked the screen back up, disconnecting a wire from one side, and tucking it under her arm. Helen wasn’t about to argue that point. If being able to keep tabs on things from elsewhere was what finally got Liv to start taking care of herself for a few minutes, she wouldn’t complain. The sky outside of the TARDIS was hardly as cheery as she’d have liked, almost as though it was reflecting the dire mood inside. Dark clouds rolled overhead, and while the area surrounding them was still dry, there was a storm on the horizon, bringing with it the ominous sense that rain was on its way. Helen had grabbed a blanket off one of the chairs in the console room as an afterthought, and while it would likely make piling back into the TARDIS if (when) the rain did pick up, she didn’t doubt it’d make sitting on the damp grass more comfortable. She spread it out on the grass barely a foot from the TARDIS doors, glancing up when they opened again, revealing Liv holding the rapidly cooling tea that Helen had made earlier. “Oh no, come on. I said I’d sit with you, but not in the rain.” She stepped outside even as she complained, passing one of the cups quickly to Helen so that she could adjust the screen tucked under her arm. She’d been in danger of dropping it. “It’s not raining.” Helen protested. There was a flash of lightning some way off in the distance. “…yet. We’ll be inside again before it hits us.” Liv sat down on the edge of the blanket, with some grumbling. She’d never exactly been shy about her hatred of miserable weather. She set her cup down, not seeming to mind how poised it seemed to spill when it was placed on the uneven ground. Helen noticed her glance at the screen again, as though fighting the temptation to check it. She didn’t pick it up. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” She eventually commented after a moment or so of silence. Helen glanced back over at her, noticing her eyes were turned towards the little village. She hadn’t really realised that Liv hadn’t actually left the TARDIS to see it yet. “It’s nice to look at.” She replied. “Not much there, really. A

greengrocers and a little schoolhouse. I think we’re somewhere in the 1940s, but I couldn’t think of a way to ask without people thinking I was mad. I might try and get a paper when I head down there next, just so that we know.” “You’ve been?” “I wanted to feel like I was doing something useful.” Helen admitted, though she knew that it was an unnecessary chore with a food machine in reach. It made her feel better than just sitting idle. Liv looked as though she was going to say something, hesitated, and then gave the darkened screen of the scanner monitor a look. “You know, when he wakes up I’m going to…” She trailed off, shaking her head and letting out a breath. “Dumping us who knows where and not telling us now long he’s going to be ill.” “I rather doubt he meant to.” Helen said, in what she hoped was a soothing manor. She wasn’t entirely sure how effective it’ been, but Liv’s shoulders did relax slightly, as though she was letting go of weeks worth of tension now she’d finally left the medical bay. “I’d even say we’re in a better position than we usually are when we’re separated.” That was an easy enough point to concede. “No Eleven buzzing about.” “Or demons trying to drag us to hell.” “And you’re here.” Helen felt her face heat up slightly at that admission, shooting her friend a quick look, though Liv wasn’t looking her way— if anything it seemed as though she’d deliberately turned her gaze away, tracking an ant as it marched across the edge of their blanket. She hesitated for a few seconds, before reaching over and placing a hand on top of Liv's. She hoped that the gesture came across as comforting rather than condescending. “He’s going to be okay you know.” She said, and despite how rough things had been as of late, there was a surprising level of confidence in her tone. “We’ve gotten out of rougher spots than this.” Liv made a noncommittal noise, though that only served to make Helen squeeze her hand, trying to make sure that her point came across. “I know.” She eventually conceded, “I just wish that there was more I could do to—” Helen didn’t let her finish. “You’re doing everything you can! And it isn’t like he left an instruction manual on how to look after his species.” “Well, not one we can read.” Despite not being particularly funny, that got a laugh out of both of them, the intensity bordering on hysteria in that way that tended to happen when everyone had had too much stress and too little sleep for several days on end. It was only as they were trailing off that Helen realised she was still holding onto Liv’s hand, trying to pull hers back without drawing too much attention to the fact she’d held on in the first place. She gave up after a few seconds, realising there was no subtle way of doing so, and deciding to try and play things off as though she was still attempting comfort. “I’m never going to get how you did it, you know. All that time on your own in there.” Helen glanced at Liv as she spoke up, having to think what she was talking about for a moment or so. It hit her a moment later, though— that time in the TARDIS, trying to get back to Saltzburg. It was all a bit of a blur to her now. “I’d have lost the plot within a month.” “I had a good motivation.” That much she did at least remember. Years on end just sitting in the empty TARDIS, going over books, and trying to piece together what she could of the Gallifreyan symbols that marked the console. It’d been lonely and frustrating, and at times it’d seemed hopeless, but it never had been, because she’d always had the promise of seeing them again on the other side. She was just starting to become aware of how close they’d gotten, sitting there. With both of their now-cold