Disclaimer: Sadly, my prolonged absence from FFN has not been spent acquiring the rights to Doctor Who, or any of Big Finish's lovely, lovely characters.
This one's for merrybrigadier on Tumblr, for the annual DW Secret Santa exchange. I know your prompt said going for coffee...but that turned into tea, because Helen Sinclair is oh-so-English...and then that turned into this. ^^; I tried my best to be fluffy, I really did! I hope you like it! Merry Early-ish Christmas!
Spoilers: Set immediately after "Doom Coalition" (end of season 4) - so massive, massive spoilers for that, of course.
Rating: K+ ?
Characters: Helen Sinclair and the Eleven, plus River, Liv and Eight.
"It'll never work, you know," the Four drawled, raising one hand to idly examine his fingernails. "It's a backup console room, don't you know? Disconnected."
"I know that!" the Two snapped. He slammed his hand down on two levers, and tilted his head to regard the blank, lifeless scanner out of the corner of his eyes. "And that's why we need to connect it."
"I could do a better job of that," the Seven pointed out, tweaking several dials with a defter touch. "Temporal mechanics is my-…"
"Why are we wasting our time? We could have so much more fun just killing the human!" With a harsh growl, the Six kicked the edge of the console hard. The Three winced.
"Ow!"
From by the door, Helen watched the disjointed monologue in stony silence. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to it, even after all this time. His whole stance and demeanour, the way he carried himself, the light in his green eyes, seemed to shift like a weather vane with the mercurial timbres of his voice; and his movements had an odd, jerky quality to them, as though he kept changing his mind halfway through reaching for something or taking a step. Which, she supposed he did – quite literally.
"We wouldn't need to connect this one, if you hadn't burned out the primary one, Six. Because you wouldn't let me kill her! No, you can't kill her – she could help… He wasn't talking to you, Eight! Can you imagine the Doctor's face if he arrives to rescue her and she's already dead? You have a point, Three…"
"All right, that's enough." Stepping forward, Helen carefully kept her distance as she circled the console to face the Time Lord across it. "Can you get it working or not?"
"I can…no he can't, he's ly-ing! Be quiet, all of you!" Gripping the edge of the console so tightly his knuckles turned white, the Eleven drew a deep breath and held it for several seconds. Helen waited. Finally, he let out the breath and raised his head. "It's a secondary console room. Not even that – it's been downloaded, but it hasn't even been installed yet."
"Well, then can't you…'install' it? Whatever that means."
"And what if I don't want to?"
"Then you'll be stuck here with me for a very long time."
"Time?" Helen had to suppress a shudder – she knew the Nine's giggle. Heaven help her, she was starting to be able to recognize all of him by now. "That's the only thing you've got plenty of! All the time in the world…you won't even age here! …unless I kill her first… No, don't do that – she'll hurt us again! She'll do the Sonomancer's trick again and hurt us!"
"I won't hurt you – I just…"
"But you did! When you flew the TARDIS at the machine – you threw us against the wall! It wasn't fair – it hurt!"
"I'm sorry – I-…" Too late, she realized that her automatic response had been exactly what the Time Lord had been waiting for. The cold gleam returned to the Eleven's eyes – he had let the Five field that one deliberately.
"Ohh, say that again. I like it when you say that."
"No." She quickly regained her composure and met his gaze, her tone flat and unwavering. She was annoyed at herself, but she refused to let him rattle her. Not any more. Caleera had left her here with him, but she hadn't left her defenceless. "I'm not sorry – not one bit. I did what I had to do. You deserved everything you got…and you know I'll do it again, every time you try to lay a finger on me."
"Y-you did the…the r-right thing, Helen-…shut up, Eight!" Again, the Eleven took a few slow breaths, standing very still. Helen could tell that the emerging of the Eight unsettled him more these days. He had underestimated that self once, and he had proven himself stronger than anticipated. Strong enough to be the weakest link in the chain Padrac had wrapped around Gallifrey. Still, Helen didn't need an ally in him. It had been her against the world for so long, until Liv and River and the Doctor – and she had stood beside them, not behind, not in their shadow as she had let herself believe on occasion.
"I really don't think you're just going to walk away from a possible chance at getting out of here," she said calmly. "You're not enjoying this any more than I am. Actually, no, maybe you are – at least you only have to put up with ten of you at once." And with that, she circled the console again to return to the door.
"It's not going to work, you know," the Eleven hissed as she passed. "We've been doing this for weeks. We're stuck here. This TARDIS is trapped like a fly in amber, frozen between the fibres of the time vortex itself when it repaired itself. We are never getting out of here – and it's your fault! Do you hear me? Your fault!"
Helen ignored him, walking unhurriedly down the corridor and around the corner until his shouts faded. She knew he would try – he was only trying to wind her up. Whatever else he might be, he at least had what her brother used to call "a bit of get-up-and-go." The drive and dogged persistence that had made him such a formidable enemy. Very few of him were inclined to be fatalistic.
And neither was she. Not any more.
This "battle TARDIS" had been equipped for war, not for comfortable long-distance travel. Helen had methodically searched, and the Eleven had feverishly ransacked. They had found pressure suits, fire extinguishers and flares, just like those in the Crucible's survival pod. They had found food machines – very good ones, to her surprise. She had found several caches of weapons, and fortunately, a kitchen incinerator in which to dispose of them before the Eleven could come across them.
She had never ventured all that far into the Doctor's TARDIS, in the fairly brief time she had travelled with him. If it weren't for having seen the home of "Lord Stormblood" and "Lady Sepulchra" in the vortex, she would have had no concept of just how huge the inside of a TARDIS could be. Every time she thought she had searched every room, there was another stairwell, another layer to the labyrinthine bowels of the ship.
Another surprise waiting around the corner.
This was definitely a surprise. Behind the rows of empty cupboards in a bare kitchen, through a little wooden door – oddly out of place when every other door on the TARDIS was of the humming, gliding Gallifreyan design – was…
Actually, to all intents and purposes, it looked like a perfectly ordinary English sitting room. Two squashy armchairs, a comfortable-looking sofa for two with a knitted throw, a coffee table with a floral-patterned teaset on a tray, and a sideboard with a kettle and jars. There was even a bay window and what looked like a little courtyard outside, filtering dappled sunlight through the net curtains.
It was just…so…painfully…normal.
All of a sudden, the weight of the past several months seemed to settle on her chest like lead. The silence of the place roared in her ears, and the vastness was closing in on her.
"Oh, Liv…" she murmured in a wavering voice, gripping the doorframe with one hand. "River…Doctor…anyone. What…what do I do?"
"…are you quite sure this is necessary?" The haughty, theatrical tones of the Four from the kitchen behind her caused Helen to spin around, startled.
"Oh, but I was only going to make her jump!" the Five whined, pouting a little as he emerged properly from the doorway. "And you ruined it!"
"An immature and frivolous use of our time," the Four sniffed. "Either we kill her properly, or-…or find a use for her! Yes, Ten, that is what I was going to suggest…" His eyes locked onto Helen, and then his expression shifted again and his gaze drifted past her, to the little tea room. "What's that?"
Without giving her a chance to reply, he strode across the kitchen to peer in through the door. Helen took an involuntary step back, into the room, as he drew closer. There was a momentary unevenness to his step as another of him gave a smug smirk and opened his mouth to speak, but then abruptly shut it again as the Nine forced his way to the fore.
"Look at that! This TARDIS has…things. Earth things? What's that – for drinking from? Can I have it? Yes, Nine, I rather think you can this time… Oh good – and those chairs. All of them – I want them." A heartbeat later, the avid, eager expression was replaced with one of puzzled disgust. "Ugh, this TARDIS is starting to get attached to the human."
"I'm right here, you know," said Helen. "What do you mean?" Closer up, she could see that he had shaved. Or tried to, anyway – at least one of him had fancied a sideburn, by the look of it, and another had wanted a cleaner shave than the rest. It was worrying – it meant he had managed to get hold of something sharp.
"What, you mean you didn't know anything about TARDISes before you flew this one straight into a Resonance Engine? No wonder you crashed us here… Oh, does this mean it's her TARDIS now? But I wanted it! Don't worry, all we have to do is to kill her and-…"
This time, it was Helen who cut him off.
"You aren't even bothering to try any more, are you, Eleven?"
"What?"
"Oh, never mind…just so long as you haven't stopped trying to find a way out of this TARDIS." She paused, scrutinising him, curiosity battling with caution while he appeared to be processing her words, no doubt passing them around in some internal battle of wills. "The…the Doctor never did say what exactly is wrong with you."
"Didn't you know? I'm completely mad!" The Three's maniacal cackle was choked back as if strangled by a snarl from the Six, who turned a blazing glare on Helen. "If you dare to ask that again, I will cut out your tongue!"
"All right – I didn't mean to-…"
"Watch out…"Although every line of his lean body bristled with the same anger as the Six, it was the Eleven who lowered his voice to a menacing hiss as he loomed over Helen. "It's catching…"
A twitch of a hand, a flash of silver; Helen's mind reacted before her body – but that was all that was needed these days, since Caleera's touch. With a yell of indignation, a growl of rage and then a wail of pain, the Time Lord was flung back across the kitchen to slam into the cupboard doors opposite. The palm-sized utility knife flew from his hand, but Helen didn't see where it ended up – the wooden door slammed between them, shutting off the kitchen from sight.
"Oh, well done you!" Heart in her mouth, Helen had turned to snap a warning even before she had quite registered that the sultry, feminine and very familiar voice behind her was most definitely not the Eleven. Nor was the lipsticked smile, shock of blonde curls, or perfectly manicured finger that beckoned Helen over to the chairs.
"R-River…?"
"The one and only."
"But…how…how did you get here?" Helen stammered, crossing the room slowly, cautiously. "I mean, I…I'm so glad to see you, but…"
"You don't know?" One sculpted eyebrow raised, and she motioned Helen to the sofa, taking an armchair herself. "You brought me here."
"I…did? Oh…oh, good grief…" Legs trembling, Helen collapsed onto the sofa, mind racing. "He was right, wasn't he? It's catching…"
"What is?"
"His…his…insanity."
"Regenerative dissonance," came another, deeper, voice from over by the window, and Helen and River both raised their heads. Stepping forward, as if straight out of the dappled sunlight, the Doctor's blue eyes came to rest on Helen, and his voice held a warm, reassuring note. "That's what he's got – and no, it's not contagious. It's a regeneration disorder – there isn't even a human equivalent."
"No…no, of course it isn't…" It was odd – all of those times over the past lonely, interminable months that she had pictured what her reunion with her friends might look like. Would the TARDIS stir into motion at her fingertips and finally land somewhere, and she step out of the door and see them running towards her – probably with a fanged monster or some alien prison guards on their heels? Would there be an explosion, would they appear out of a plume of rubble and smoke? Would there be a "time ram", would the Doctor's familiar blue police-box TARDIS appear at the end of one of the battle TARDIS's seemingly endless grey corridors?
Would she break with her usual demure, quiet academic manners, and run forwards to throw her arms around them?
However she had been expecting to react, it wasn't to be sitting here, gaping like a goldfish, almost dizzy with utter bewilderment. River and the Doctor themselves seemed quite unfazed. Settled in the two armchairs, with the beige, floral-print wallpaper at their backs and the thick oriental rug beneath their feet, it was as if they had just popped in for a social call.
"Wh-where's Liv?"
"Right here."
Even though the voice was so close and so unexpected, Helen wasn't startled – although her heart did leap into her mouth. She turned – and sure enough, sitting there on the sofa beside her was yet another familiar figure, arms folded, one corner of her mouth upturned in a little smile that Helen knew hid more than she would ever let on.
"Liv!" Immediately embarrassed at herself, the instant the delighted exclamation had left her mouth, a shade of pink crept onto Helen's cheeks. There was amusement in the Doctor's eyes, and a twinkle in River's. Flustered, Helen folded and unfolded her hands in her lap, gripped the arm of the sofa.
"How about some tea?" the Doctor suggested, moving to rise.
"B-but…but we have to get out of here!" said Helen, finding her voice again. "There'll be time for questions later…the Eleven is here – he could be still just outside the door! We have to-…"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," said Liv.
"You see," River continued, "we're here…but we're not here. We're projections – from you."
"Hallucinations? Illusions?" Helen couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.
"No no, it's really us!" the Doctor insisted, picking up the teaset and heading for the sideboard. "We're here! When Caleera touched your mind, she touched everything at once…from the Matrix. The Matrix records consciousnesses. A little snippet of each of us – just the tiniest drop of each of our…our souls…inside you, Helen. She must have had to put a little of the Matrix into your head to give you the knowledge of how to fly this TARDIS."
"And now you're using the power of the Sonomancer to give yourself a little treat," River smiled. "You've earned it."
"I…I…"
"Helen, Liv – milk and sugar?" the Doctor called.
"Black for me, no sugar, thanks. Helen – are you all right?"
"Y-yes, I…I think so…" Helen stammered. "It's just…a lot to take in. Er…yes, milk and sugar, please." She paused. "You…you know what Caleera said to me?"
"We do," River answered. "But when we meet again, we won't."
"Because you're…versions of you…from my head?" Helen guessed, and Liv nodded confirmation. Helen was a little relieved about that, to be honest. What had been said between her and Caleera, in that moment – it was…private. There wasn't anyone else who would truly understand, and she could never try to explain it.
"Tea!" the Doctor proclaimed triumphantly, and with a clink of china, he crossed the room to pass everyone their cups. Helen took hers and wrapped her hands around it, inhaling deeply. The smell of it…oh, it was real…and the warmth of the first sip spread through her body, bringing renewed colour to her cheeks and light to her eyes. She knew how she must look to the others – the tension and lonely, sleepless nights showing in dark circles under her eyes, her long brown hair brushed but unkempt, the red and white Chancellory Guard uniform that she had found in the TARDIS's wardrobe room, which seemed the most practical thing that fit her. Now, though, she felt…she felt more human than she had felt for too long.
"There now – what have I always said about a nice cup of tea?" The Doctor appeared to be savouring his almost as much, even after adding seven sugar cubes to it. Liv sipped hers in stoic silence. River was holding the saucer in one hand, and the cup in the other with pinkie raised, watching Helen through her thick eyelashes over the rim of the cup.
"The food machines don't quite compare," Helen agreed. She couldn't put her finger on any particular difference in taste between this and what the food machines could produce, but that was the thing about a cup of tea – so much depended on the company.
"We're coming for you, Helen." Straight to business as usual, and there was resolve in Liv's voice.
"You know I'm alive?"
"We can't know that for sure," said the Doctor, lowering his cup and saucer to his lap. "The versions of us out there won't know what happened to you. They might have assumed the worst."
"No they won't," said Liv firmly. "I know you better than that, Doctor. You know we won't have given up on her."
"And what if you can't find me?" Worried, Helen's grip tightened on her cup. "This TARDIS, it's…it's stuck – it's not in or outside time – it's embedded in the wall of the vortex itself."
"Then you'll beat us to it," said River confidently.
"You remember the Crucible survival pod, don't you?" Liv asked, and Helen nodded fervently.
"I haven't given up, I promise. I've been looking everywhere. I'm trying to think outside the box. Oh…but it's been so long…" A self-deprecating little laugh. "If you three were here, you would have thought of something by the first day."
"Not necessarily," said the Doctor. He fished a digestive biscuit from his pocket and dipped it in his tea, swirling it around thoughtfully. "Sometimes I can pull together an escape plan with staples and string…but sometimes, the ingredient I need most is time."
"And the TARDIS seems to be taking a liking to you," River observed, her gaze drifting across the walls as though seeing deeper still than the unexpected English sitting room.
"Yes…the Eleven said something like that. What did he mean?"
"A TARDIS isn't just a ship," the Doctor explained. "You think mine came from Gallifrey ready-made with a theatre, an art gallery, gardens, a sauna and a bedroom for every person I would ever travel with? No, they get to know their pilots. And, if they like their pilots, they'll try to make them comfortable. This one is still young – she's still finding her feet – but give her time, treat her right…"
"Why can't I ever get a straight answer like that out of you when you're not a Matrix-Sonomancer projection?" Liv snorted, but her tone was light, teasing. The Doctor opened his mouth for a mock-affronted retort, but at that moment, half of his biscuit broke off in his tea, and the corners of his mouth turned down, eyes widening in a look like an injured puppy. With a long-suffering sigh, River passed him another, and Liv turned back to Helen. "And how are you doing? He hasn't hurt you, has he?"
"I'm…tired," Helen confessed. "And…lonely. None of him are much company, I'm afraid. It's fine, though – I can deal with him," she hastened to add.
"You certainly can!" River said approvingly, her eyes flickering over to the door. "He's a Time Lord – some of him are probably almost competent. You could use him to-…"
"I don't want to use him." River arched an eyebrow at Helen's words, spoken before she quite knew what she was saying.
"Temporal engineering is a difficult field – you're going to need-…"
"No – I mean…I just…" Helen fumbled for words. "It's just…'use him'…it feels like…"
"Like Padrac?" the Doctor interjected, his keen blue eyes fixed on Helen, who reddened again and nodded.
"Helen, after everything the Eleven has done!" Liv shook her head, her mouth a grim line. "If anyone deserves to be 'used', it's him."
"I…y-yes, you're right…it's silly, I know…"
"No – compassion is never misplaced," said the Doctor. "Even for him. You're right, Helen – you're better than Padrac. If there's any way to persuade him to help, though…"
"He'll help," said Helen. She was surprised to find herself more certain in that statement than she had thought she would have until now. "He wants to get out of here. He hasn't given up either."
"Helen, be careful…" the Doctor began, but River cut him off.
"Oh, stop fussing, dear! It sounds like Helen has this in hand…don't you?"
"Er…yes." Helen swallowed, and repeated again, more firmly. "Yes. I can do this."
"We never doubted you." With another fond smile, River set aside her empty teacup and saucer, and elegantly rose to her feet. Alarmed, Helen straightened and looked around at the three of them.
"Wait – can't you stay?"
"A sentient projection like this can't be maintained for long," the Doctor said, almost apologetically, as he too stood, pocketing his own cup and saucer. "It takes a lot of energy, and I doubt Caleera gave you much. Save it for keeping yourself safe, and piloting this TARDIS." Liv was the last to stand, with visible reluctance, and Helen hastily followed suit, as the three began to walk towards the window.
"We'll see you soon," said the Doctor, meeting Helen's eyes with an encouraging smile. "I don't say this often, but…don't stay put!" Before Helen could force out any words past the sudden lump in her throat, he had turned and walked straight into the pool of now almost dazzlingly bright sunlight, vanishing. River turned back to face Helen, wordlessly blew her a kiss and tipped her a wink, and then took a single step backwards, spreading her arms as though letting the sunlight enfold her in an embrace and carry her away.
Finally, it was just Helen and Liv.
"Liv…I…" She swallowed hard. "I won't give up, I promise."
"You've got this, Helen."
And then she, too, was gone, leaving Helen staring into the pool of sunlight where it shimmered on the floor and rippled in the veil of tears that blurred her vision.
As it turned out, the utility knife had come from a stash of tools that the Eleven had found in his searching of the upper levels of the TARDIS. There were wrenches, pliers, wire cutters, a soldering gun, and all manner of delicate little tools of unmistakeably Gallifreyan design that Helen couldn't begin to name. For now, he seemed to be holding the Nine at bay from pocketing anything, and he and Helen were filling a small (but bigger on the inside, it seemed) toolbox with an assortment of tools.
"You're very quiet," she commented, with more than a little suspicion in her voice. "And why are you so wet, anyway?" She had tracked him down by a trail of sopping footprints heading down the corridor towards the wardrobe room; his dark green robes were sodden, dripping a puddle of water around where he stood, and his platinum hair was plastered to his forehead.
There was a flicker of a sheepish look, and a snatch of a giggle, before he dug his fingernails into his palms with a gritted-out, "shut up!" under his breath. Helen knew it wasn't directed at her.
"No, wait, let me guess – the Five found that swimming pool on the third floor, and all of you got wet."
"Don't mock me! …she's making fun of you, old chap-…she's right – how did-…gah!" The Eleven slammed a spanner down onto the bench and pressed his eyes shut, letting out his breath in a slow hiss through clenched teeth. "Now look what you've done!"
"Sorry…" Helen murmured. She meant it this time – she hadn't intended to disrupt the fragile self-control he had seemed to be maintaining. "Just…take a moment. I've got this." With a defiant glare, he threw the spanner into the box, followed by a device consisting of crystal bubbles in a golden mesh, which miraculously didn't shatter.
"You don't know anything about me."
Carefully adding several spools of assorted wire, Helen firmly closed the lid, picked up the box and thrust it into his hands.
"Come on, then – let's get on with this…"
Some weeks ago, in an otherwise bare room, she had come across a screen a little like that of a television – only, bigger, flat and with a colour display, that she was informed read "no input available" in the interlocking circles that she now knew were Gallifreyan writing. It was that screen that she now retrieved, and then walked briskly up and down stretches of corridor until she found a point that seemed to be a trigger for switching the lights on and off when she passed. There, she set down the screen and laid a hand on the wall, mentally apologizing to the TARDIS for a moment. Doing so, she had thought might feel a little foolish – but far from it, when the moment came, it felt right somehow.
Behind the prised-off panel of the wall, just as she had predicted, they found wires, circuitry, tiny flashing lights, a gentle humming noise.
"There!" she declared, stepping back and motioning the Eleven forward. "Now, I need you to connect this screen to the TARDIS, and use it to 'install' that secondary console room."
"Can't be done," he said, not budging.
"Can't? Are you sure?"
"Com-plete -ly impossible! …I am rather afraid so, Miss Sinclair-…I can't do it, but can I keep the screen…? All right, that will do, all of you." Green eyes met grey ones, which narrowed. He was hardheaded and uncooperative, certainly, but this still wasn't like him. What did he usually do, when faced with a problem?
"I suppose you're all still in there, then?"
"What do you care?"
"Because they might be able to help."
"No, wait, let me guess," he retorted, in bitter, sarcastic mimicry of her earlier words. "You want to talk to the Eight. The nice one."
"Actually, no."
That appeared to take one of him by surprise, and he blinked. Another of him tilted his head. Another waited, expectantly, for her next words.
"I want to talk to whichever one of you can do this." She gestured to the screen and open panel. "I don't even care if it's the Six. You rebuilt that 'stellar manipulator' – I know at least one of you has the skills to do it."
"Oh, but I thought you said that wasn't even bothering to try!" he sneered.
"'That'…?"
"I thought it was you humans who had that saying…oh, what was it?" He tapped his chin with one finger. "Ah yes – 'two heads are better than one'."
"And…you…have eleven?" she ventured tentatively, half-expecting him to snap again, offended. "That was you 'trying' – when you seemed so… You were…all…trying to come up with ideas to get us out of here?"
"Let me give you a word or two of advice, Helen Sinclair," he said in a low, warning tone. "Don't try to control me. You don't know how I work."
But apparently satisfied that he had made his point, he turned his back on her and dropped down to sit in front of the open panel, fished a long hook from the toolbox and began probing among the wires.
"I could disconnect the optic sensors from the motion sensor in the light switch, to give a visual interface-…no, not sensitive enough – it won't be accurate – use the voice activation instead-…voice activation? We can talk to it? …yes – now where's the main current running-…I would remind you, Two, my dear fellow, that we will require machenite capacitors to convert the artron energy to electrical for this screen-…ohh yes, the smell of burning flesh if I pull out that cable and electrocute the hu-…Six, if you don't have anything useful to contribute…" He turned his head to throw Helen a slightly wild-eyed grin over his shoulder. "Teamwork…"
"Do you really think you will be able to fly this TARDIS?" There was undisguised scorn in the Eleven's voice.
"As you yourself pointed out the last time we were in here," Helen answered, without looking around at him, "it was me who flew us here in the first place."
"Yes, but now it's wedged into the fabric of the time vortex. You can't just force a TARDIS out of-…"
"I'm not going to force her to do anything," said Helen calmly, with a small smile, as she ran her hands across the console. "I'm just going to encourage her to try."
"You're going to encourage a TARDIS to try?" Scorn gave way to complete incredulity, and he strode forwards. "Get out of my way. This is a job for a Time Lord."
"No." She didn't even need to channel Caleera's power to stop him in his tracks this time – the tone of her voice brooked no room for argument. "This is my job."
"But…but…" the Three stuttered, while the Eleven was momentarily speechless. "But you can't-…"
"Actually, I can." She could feel a gentle humming from the controls beneath her fingertips, a warm response, and there was an inexplicable sense of optimism and determination welling through her that felt somehow different to her own. "And I will. Now be quiet, all of you, and keep back."
"Well this will surely be an exercise in futility – wake me when it's over-…I'm scared! She's going to crash and we're going to die! I don't want to die! …you can do it, Helen – you can-…aargh! Shut up, shut up! I need to think now!" He hunched over, hands on his knees, inhaled deeply and then let it out in a shaky rush, several times, fighting for control.
"That's right, just breathe. In-out, in-out – we'll be fine." Subtle, so subtle, but she was sure she had felt the floor judder a little beneath her feet – and now there was a soft glow emanating from the column in the centre of the console, and the cylinders inside were beginning to stir. "Better hold onto something…"
In her mind's eye, she could see their faces – River, the Doctor, Liv…it was as if they were hovering just out of reach, beckoning her forwards – or were they reaching out to her? With a smile curving her lips, Helen reached back.
"I'm coming for you, Liv…"