All That Glitters Is Not Exterminated

by dhalgren99

The Doctor once again faces his oldest and deadliest enemy. There's only one problem. This time, it's . . . adorable?

As usual, some explanation. I always told myself that I would never write a "Doctor Who" story because I love the show so much that I would be constantly afraid of not living up to my own memories/view of the show. And that remained true even as I wrote this. I'm so consistent. What changed my mind, ultimately? In a word: Christmas. My friend Lauren and I, both ardent fans of the show (though I was first, not that it's a competition or anything) had a running series of jokes about the Doctor's most hated and frightening foes becoming utterly cute. Like LOL Daleks and whatnot. You get the idea. All the banter about that led me to attempt to write a story about such a thing, to see if I could make it work in the show's context. Thus, her Christmas present.

All in all, despite my relentlessly critical view of myself, I have to say this one kind of worked. I like how it takes what is a completely mental and absurd concept and plays it absolutely straight, so that it winds up being cutely unsettling in parts. It worked better than it had any right to, and while the world may not be a better place for it existing, I'm just glad it didn't suck. Who wants a sucky Christmas gift?

Notes, for those interested in such things: Tenth Doctor and Rose, probably and obviously before "Army of Ghosts"/"Doomsday" . . . we'll all pretend that they just didn't feel like mentioning this incident during those episodes and get on with our lives. I'm not so big on the romance aspect of their relationship . . . I'm sure a lot of you wanted to see them snog and while Billie Piper is quite fetching (as is David Tennant, to be fair), I wasn't one of them. Believe me, there's plenty of other stories you can get that from, if you want that to be your thing.

Otherwise, once again enjoy my complete lack of chapters (think of them like commercial breaks) and enjoy that I finally subjected you all to one of these without cramming my characters in there somewhere. Thank goodness, as it were, for small favors.

Cheers! - MB

---

He was running again. He was always running, that's what made travelling with him both exhilarating and exasperating. Darting around the console, flitting from corner to corner with an edged glee bordering on the manic, he never stopped. Even his stillness was suffused with vibrational motions, his brain working like gears pushed into overdrive and the stasis deceptive, the stance of someone who was moving so fast that he had somehow progressed beyond your ability to perceive movement.

But right now he was definitely moving, a brown trenchcoated blur racing ahead of her, his thin frame a razor slicing into the air, every long legged stride ignoring the fact that she needed to bloody catch her breath.

"'Ey, how about for once not treating everything like it's a sprint?" Rose panted, bending down to brace her hands on her thighs, although all that did was give her a nicely lopsided view of the sidewalk. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, being that his default setting is 'hyper'.

"The readings are coming from this way!" the Doctor shouted over his shoulder, pausing for just a second to hold up the bizarre spiky device he had thrown together apparently from random parts sitting around in the TARDIS. A tiny radar dish on the top of it kept rotating, sometimes it beeped and that was all she could really figure out about it. Somehow he managed to not look out of place amidst the cloistered suburban setting they had found themselves in, the houses formed as much by blocky geometrics instead of aesthetics, the lawns all identical green stamped squares, with only the occasional stray newspaper or bouncy ball strewn about to break up the monotony.

"That's wonderful," she called out to him, hoping that maybe by talking it might keep him in one place long enough. "But what exactly are you read-"

"Aha, over here!" So much for that theory. Inwardly cursing herself for not taking more advantage of the TARDIS exercise room, Rose pushed herself forward again.

Somehow she managed to catch up with him, cutting diagonally across a stretch of grass even as he ran past it, stopped and abruptly pivoted on his heel to race up a walkway, his eyes fixed on the squealing device in his hands. He took the cracked wooden front steps to the small, rather unassuming house with the faded blue paint two at a time and nearly ran into the door when he tried to open it without checking to see if it was locked first.

He rang the doorbell and before it even stopped chiming was knocking on the door with a rapid clatter. "Come on, come on," he muttered, focusing again on the device and fiddling with a tiny button on the side, which just seemed to make it beep louder.

Rose stood on the bottom steps and leaned on the handrail. "Care to tell us what we're rushing headlong into? Or are we on some kind of weird Time Lord scavenger hunt?"

"It's inside," the Doctor said, ringing the doorbell again. "And if I'm right they're all in terrible danger." He tapped his foot impatiently, talking under his breath. "Come on, what if I was one of those people with the giant cheques?" With a free hand he reached inside his long coat, presumably going for his sonic screwdriver. And making them about to break into someone's house.

"Listen, before we go all cat burglar here, what kind of danger are we talking about . . ."

"Awful danger, terrible danger." He shot the words out like a petulant child heedlessly flinging marbles across the floor. "If this is steering me right, and I invented it so of course it has to be, they're in the absolute worst kind of-oh hello, glad you could answer the door so quickly!" His tone changed immediately to one of disarming cheer as the door opened to reveal a woman in her thirties, with flat and frazzled hair and an expression on her face suggesting that she had resigned herself to looking no more than plain for the rest of her days.

"I'm sorry, I was with the laundry downstairs, is there something I can help you with-"

"Oh, it's what we can help you with!" the Doctor pressed, shoving a bi-fold with a blank piece of paper inside in her face. "Doctor Smith, safety inspector, here to give you a free bonus improvised and totally unannounced assessment of how safe your home is."

The woman blinked. "I've never heard of such a thing. And we're pretty safe here, we've got a-"

"Won't take but a minute!" the Doctor tut-tutted, and he was off again, rushing past her, taking two steps into their clean but sparse living room before staring once more at the device and leaping toward the stairs.

"He's, ah, very enthusiastic about safety . . ." Rose said by way of feeble explanation, and then rushing past her as well, both to catch up with the Doctor and make sure he didn't do anything that would get them both arrested.

"Wait . . ." the woman said but none of this appeared to be sinking in for her just yet.

"The readings are getting stronger," the Doctor said without turning around as he crouched in the narrow upstairs hallway. There were maybe three doors total, unevenly spaced apart, one on each wall and one at the very end. The two nearest were slightly ajar and she could see that they were either bedrooms or spare storage. She thought she caught a glimpse of a child's tricycle through one door.

He began to inch forward down the hallway, the device held out like some kind of divining rod. Once it beeped, almost forlornly and he held a finger to his lips, after which it fell silent. Rose trailed behind, mimicking his stance.

"What is it?" she asked, finding herself whispering. The wooden floor creaked under their feet, although he didn't shush that. "You ran out of the TARDIS without even really saying-"

"But what are you doing here?" he mused quietly, apparently not even paying attention to her. "You lot always have a plan." They were creeping closer to the one shut door, close enough that Rose could hear muffled voices coming from behind it. "And I'm always the one who winds up stopping it."

"Who?"

"Sh." He put one hand on the wall, sliding ahead a little more, his sneakers barely squeaking as he moved with deliberate slow speed.

". . . and I don't care, because they've all been very bad . . ." It was hard to tell who was speaking, young or old, boy or girl. Or even human or alien, as Rose had learned such distinctions were often important.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he gently set the device on the floor, reaching inside his coat to pull out the screwdriver, never taking his eyes off the door.

". . . nobody is doing what they're told, it's just awful . . ."

Near the door, he was getting to his feet slowly, like some kind of weird long-stemmed plant unfurling for the morning sun. The screwdriver was held out before him like he was going to take someone's temperature with it.

". . . so we're going to have to do something about it . . ."

One hand was on the doorknob. Rose braced herself, ready to stand.

". . . but what do you think we should do?"

And then the door was flung open inward, causing bright sunlight to flood the hallway and the Doctor to reel backward, one arm flailing. Rose staggered back onto one arm, squinting even as a shadow filled the doorway. A glinted tall and rounded shadow, looming as far overhead as her vision would allow.

A shadow that looked suspiciously just like a pepper pot.

Oh no. Rose felt her heart attempt to stop.

"Rose, get out of here now!" He rarely sounded so frantic.

"Ex-ter-min-ate!" a harsh electronic voice grated, wiping out all other sounds.

But it was bearing down on her and there was suddenly nowhere to go.

The edges rose into a modulated howl. "Ex-ter-min-ate!"

"ROSE, RUN!"

Except that was impossible when it was big as the world.

"EX-TER-MIN-AAAATTTEEEE!"

---

"EX-TER-MIN-AAATTTEEEE!"

Rose closed her eyes and turned her face away, knowing it was kind of cowardly but not wanting to give it the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her face right before it blasted her.

"Wait!" Her first impression is that it was something the Doctor would say, but it was very much not the Doctor's voice. "What are you doing?"

"They-are-mis-be-hav-ing. They-are-to-be-ex-ter-min-ate-d." Even though the tone was what she expected, something about it sounded . . . off.

"No, not them, silly. We don't even know who they are." Rose risked opening her eyes, shifting her weight into a sitting position and pleased to see the hallway wasn't littered with corpses.

The rest of the hallway was a mixture of elements she expected and didn't dream of in her wildest imaginings. The Doctor was pressed flat against the wall, both arms splayed like he had been thrown there. He was absolutely, perfectly still, only the rapid movements of his eyes as he took the situation in giving any kind of hint that he hadn't been utterly frozen in place. She tried to catch his gaze to ask her own question, but wherever he was in his brain had no place for her right now.

The voice proved itself to be that of a little girl, which made sense now that she could see. Maybe five or six years old, with her hair in tiny pigtails and a bow, a rounded face with sharp blue eyes and an impish little grin.

"Then-we-should-order-them-to-i-dent-i-fy-them-selves?" The other voice, unfortunately was one she was all too familiar with. Just the vaguest hint of its tones could send shivers right down her spine. She had argued with them in space, seen the destruction they had created in the name of being supreme, helped cause the ruination of their biggest plan, all the while listening to them vow to come back stronger and more deadly than ever. She had always doubted it, but the Doctor, when he did talk about them, said that other than human beings, the one race in this universe that should never count out entirely . . .

"Well, duh. Otherwise they're just strangers."

. . . was the Daleks.

"You-are-to-state-your-name." The eyestalk swivelled toward the Doctor, who seemed to be doing his best not to flinch. The body of it was still facing Rose and as far as she could tell it was a standard Dalek. She had only met them twice but the thing about the buggers was that they tended to make an impression.

"No, not like that!" the little girl said, tapping the Dalek on its shell. "You want them to like you, remember?"

The eyestalk spun to look down at the girl and then back to eye the Doctor again.

"You-are-to-state-your-name," the Dalek said again, with exactly the same inflections as before. But then after a beat it added a word that Rose never thought she would hear out of any Dalek in the history of creation.

"Please."

"That's better," the girl said, nodding sagely.

"Ah, right," the Doctor said, his mouth moving almost out of time with his words. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head and to stall for time he ran his hand over the top of his head, succeeding only in messing up his already naff hair. "I'm, ah, pleased to meet you. I'm, well, I'm Doctor John Smith and this is my friend Rose." As he talked he started to get some of his confidence back, his eyes narrowing as he began to assess the situation and decide what he was going to do about it.

"Say hi!" the little girl said brightly.

"Hell-o," the Dalek said, almost cheerfully.

"Well aren't you a very polite . . . person." The Doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets, then shot an imperceptible nod toward Rose, who was already beginning to stand up.

"Thank-you. I-have-been-learn-ing-man-ners."

"And you're doing a wonderful job," the Doctor said in his best "speaking to children" voice, gently and gingerly patting the Dalek on its dome, at the same time shooting Rose a look that she had come to interpret as his "I don't know what the hell is going on" stare.

Rose decided to try a different tactic. Leaning down and putting her hands on her knees, she said to the little girl, "And what's your name, honey?"

At the sound of Rose's voice, the girl suddenly looked fearful and slid around the Dalek, keeping both hands on its shell while peeking around the corner of it at Rose, just one eye showing.

"No, no, don't be afraid, I just wanted to . . ." Rose trailed off at another look from the Doctor, a brief shake of his head telling her to abandon that tactic for now.

"Are-you-here-to-en-gage-with-us?" the Dalek asked, focusing on the Doctor again and seemingly not aware of the girl's reaction.

"Engage? I'm afraid I don't quite follow-"

The girl popped out from around the Dalek. "Not after you scared them!"

"Oh, well, now, I wouldn't go so far to say I was frightened . . ."

"It-was-not-my-in-ten-tion."

"They didn't know that. If you want them to stay you're going to have to apologize." She gave Rose a shy glance, still keeping close to the Dalek, like she really did think they were going to walk away.

"Honest, I realize it was all a terrible misunderstanding. We can completely start over again and get off on the right foot, or, um, tentacle in your case-"

Without warning the Dalek slid forward, pinning the Doctor against the wall.

"Doctor!" Rose called out, taking a step forward.

"No, Rose, wait . . ." The Doctor stood perfectly still, with the Dalek's eyestalk inches from his own face. The long plunger arm and weapon arm were on either side of his body, almost touching the wall in the case of the former. But not just that, something else caught Rose's attention as well.

Both arms were tilted in toward the Doctor, almost like it was . . .

"I think our new friend just wants to give me a hug," the Doctor finished, flashing a toothy grin at the Dalek. "Isn't that right?"

"No-harm-was-in-tend-ed. We-mere-ly-wished-for-you-to-en-gage." Even though the voice hardly deviated from its harsh electronic bark, the Dalek somehow sounded almost . . . chastened.

"See?" the little girl chimed in. "Was that so hard?"

Rose was about to add to the conversation when a series of footsteps were heard on the stairs down the hall. The woman from earlier poked her head around the corner and gave them all a look that veered between stern and confused.

"Just getting acquainted is all," the Doctor called out, trying as best he could to wave a friendly hand with the Dalek arms in the way.

"Julie-Ann," the woman, who Rose supposed was the mother, said severely, "just what are you and Stanley doing with these people?"

---

"I have to apologize for that," the woman, Brenda was her name, said to the Doctor as the two of them went down the stairs.

"Oh, that's quite all right," the Doctor replied, waving a hand dismissively. He was behind her and his eyes were scanning everything intently, taking in old pictures of days spent at fairs and down on holiday at the beach, first day of school photographs, and the odd family member who he couldn't exactly place. "Any day that includes a hug isn't a bad day at all in my book."

Brenda smiled. "That's very kind of you. Most people would be a bit freaked out by Stanley."

"It certainly isn't the name I would have chosen for him," the Doctor muttered. Louder, he added, "Aw, no, I could tell that he was harmless . . . with that big toilet plunger attached to him, how could he be anything else?"

"He's actually very handy with it. We got him a set of blocks one day and within an hour he was able to spell his name by arranging them. Although he also kept using the same letters for other words that didn't make any sense. A and C and G and T, over and over. We were starting to worry about him a little."

"I'm sure it was just a phase." The Doctor suddenly darted in front of Brenda just before they reached the kitchen, holding up one finger. "I do have a question though and pardon me if this is a bit too personal but . . ."

Brenda narrowed her eyes.

The Doctor moved his hand so that it was massaging his throat. "I am absolutely parched . . . would it be too much trouble if I bothered you for a spot of tea?"

Brenda's face relaxed into a smile. "Sure. I'll go put the kettle on."

---

"More tea?" The tea kettle hovered over the cup.

"Sure! Of course!" A slurping sound soon followed as it was held up to the mouth. "This is really great tea, it tastes just like cherries!"

"Then-it-has-been-brewed-to-your-sat-is-fact-ion?"

As it turned out, when Stanley said he wanted to engage, he really meant "play."

The doll's head turned toward Stanley. "It was very good. Thank you, Stanley." Julie-Ann made her voice go an octave higher, even as the Barbie doll tried to talk with a cup attached to her face.

Rose smiled as she sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the little tea party going on. The room was oddly not cramped even with the Dalek crammed inside, the furniture had been arranged so that Julie-Ann's bed was against the wall, with all her dressers and belongings scattered in a wide arc, tables and lamps and the like. A little chest lay wide open, revealing a disorganized jumble of dolls and games, while the slit of a closet door showed the typical clothing of a little girl, jeans and overalls and some party dresses.

Julie-Ann and Rose were sitting on the floor around a tiny table of dolls and stuffed animals. None of the dolls were wearing what looked to be their original clothes, unless Barbie had a thing for men's hats. The stuffed animals, a rabbit and a duck, seemed to be taking this all in stride, although none of them had really touched their tea cups.

That didn't bother Julie-Ann, who called out for seconds anyway. Even though their cups were presumably full to the brim from the last round, everyone got more as the girl went through the motions of pouring a heaping helping for them.

"That looks good," Rose said, leaning forward. "Do I get to try some?"

But the girl wouldn't even make eye contact with her, frowning and turning away to pour more tea for the other stuffed animals.

"If-a-sec-ond-pot-is-form-u-lat-ed-then-you-may-re-quest-some," the Dalek told her, its voice coming from high above her. Unable to sit, it merely hovered in the background of the party. " Thump-ers-speaks-high-ly-of-it-and-con-sumes-mass-quant-it-ties-of-it-but-if-you-des-ire-we-will-save-some-for-you."

"That's very kind of you, Stanley," Rose said politely, unable to shake the alarm bells going off in her head with the sunken sphere studded base of a Dalek just inches from her. With a quiet hum, the Dalek slid away, crossing over to the other side of the room where a plastic kitchen was set up.

Rose had been doing her best to study the creature without looking like she was staring, although Stanley didn't seem to notice and Julie-Ann seemed to be doing her level best to avoid acknowledging her presence. Rose was trying to get a handle on this situation but more and more it was starting to feel like one of those dreams you had after one too many at the pub coupled with a late night pizza. Unfortunately, she was getting the sense that the Doctor wasn't many steps ahead of her.

"Per-haps-a-diff-er-ent-var-ie-ty-would-be-ad-vis-able?" Stanley asked from the corner. He was holding a plastic kettle in one arm and moving it back and forth across the fake stove. Piled in the sink were a selection of toy fruits. Already there was an orange stuffed into the kettle.

"Quackers really likes berries," Julie-Ann called out, after putting her ear very close to the duck's head. Then she plopped herself down and appeared to be having a quiet and animated conversation with the others while she waited for the Dalek to brew the berry tea.

"I-ob-ey."

Rose just shook her head. "We've gone right through the bleedin' looking glass, haven't we?"

---

The Doctor sipped at his cup, then closed his eyes to savor it. "Oh, that's brilliant." He put it down, tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. "Most people don't know how to brew a proper cup anymore, it's really a rare skill to find these days."

Brenda blushed a little but brushed off the compliment with a shrug. "Just boil some water and put the tea leaves in, that's all. Same way my mother taught me years ago." She idly stirred at her own cup with a spoon. "She used to tell me the easiest way to catch a man was to learn how to do something simple that they liked. If you did it well enough, then they'd do everything else for you."

"Oh, I'm sure you do more than one thing well."

A tinge of suspicion came into her eyes. "You're very flattering for a safety inspector."

The Doctor leaned back in the chair, throwing one arm over the back of it and flashing a charming grin. "Nah, just being honest. Comes with the territory, we can't be safe if we're not honest with each other, right?" He looked around, as if watching a fly flitting around the room. "And you, you strike me as an honest person."

Brenda straightened her shoulders a little. "I try my best, same as anyone else."

"Good, good. That's all any of us can hope for." His gaze finally zeroed back in on her. "So maybe you want to tell me why you've got an alien creature playing doll games with your daughter?"

With the situation calming somewhat, Rose was able to study the Dalek a little better. Staring at the thing still gave her an unsettling feeling, she had watched them shoot down people she knew too often to be totally comfortably, even as it delicately moved a toy kettle across the room and handed it almost daintily to Julie-Ann.

"I-be-lieve-the-con-coct-ion-has-brew-ade-quate-ly," Stanley said as Julie-Ann pretended to test what was inside of it.

"It's perfect!" she said with a giggle, impulsively giving the Dalek a quick hug, something else Rose was having trouble wrapping her head around. This was getting too weird too fast. "Everyone is going to love it!"

"I-strive-for-sup-reme-per-fect-ion."

Okay, enough of this. Leaning over, Rose caught the little girl's attention and said in her friendliest voice, "So, how did the two of you meet? At school? Neighbors?"

Julie-Ann gave her a sullen glare, and kept pouring tea for the stuffed duck. "Come on, you should try it," she implored the duck. "Don't be fussy like you normally are."

"I-have-brewed-it-to-his-ex-act-spec-if-i-cat-ions." Stanley was hovering nearby, almost like a concerned parent, constantly moving back and forth by inches. The effect was as close as Daleks got to pacing nervously.

"Down at the playground where he needed a little help on the monkey bars?" Rose knew she was pushing and she didn't normally act this way around children but if something bad was lurking underneath all this surrealism then she wanted it at least uncovered soon. The Doctor had a habit of letting situations string out until they had no choice but to respond, she'd rather figure it out before it got dire. "I'm sure there's a good story in there somewhere."

Julie-Ann was pushing the tiny tea cup at the duck, who didn't seem to be interested in having any of it. "Don't be like that," she said, almost whining. "Stanley made it just the way you like it. Be nice."

"Per-haps-he-is-simp-ly-not-thir-sty."

Rose slid her way around the dolls' table, trying to put herself in a position where Julie-Ann couldn't ignore her. The rabbit stared at her with pleading eyes, perhaps sad because the little girl wasn't paying as much attention to it. "I mean, you two seem to be having a lot of fun together. I wish I had a friend like him. Does he have any other friends around, maybe?"

Suddenly the girl knocked the cup over, sending it spinning across the floor. The Dalek's eyestalk followed the motion of it and for a second Rose thought she saw the gun arm tracking its path. A chill went right down her spine, she had forgotten about the lethal weapon attached to it with all their talk of tea and stuffed animals.

"Now look what you did!" she said to the duck. "That wasn't nice at all!"

"The-drink-ing-vess-el-can-be-re-triev-ed." Already the plunger arm was extending toward the floor to pick up the cup. "It-can-be-re-filled."

"No, he's in a bad mood and he's just being naughty." She gave the duck a harsh glare, with all the ferocious sudden anger a child could convey. The duck didn't seem at all fazed by the onslaught, however. If the Dalek wasn't in the room it would have been amusing to watch.

Her eyes suddenly gleamed with a whimsical wickedness. "He has to learn a lesson."'

"Wait, I'm sorry . . . what?" Rose asked.

---

Brenda stared at him for maybe ten seconds before breaking out into a long peal of laughter. "An alien creature?" she asked when she got her breath back. Wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes, she barely squelched a guffaw. "Wherever did you get that idea from?"

"I am deadly serious here," the Doctor insisted, leaning forward with both forearms resting on the table. "Whatever you've done to wake it up, wherever you found it, no matter how cute you think it is, I can tell you with absolute certainty that you are all in terrible danger."

Brenda's smile slipped a little bit. "Is this a joke?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait, are you really from the state?"

"Right now that doesn't matter." The Doctor's voice sank to another level of burred intensity. "What matters is you have to tell me right now exactly where and how you found that thing upstairs."

She bristled at the command. "I don't believe I have to tell you anything, sir. I don't even know who you are."

The Doctor's eyes flashed with something less than age and something more than anger. "Who am I? The only person who can save everyone in this house."

---

"Is-Quack-ers-be-ing-dis-o-bed-ient?" The Dalek slid forward a few inches, apparently directing the inquiry at the stuffed duck, who was maintaining the silence that had served him well so far. "You-will-an-swer." Rose let herself slip back an involuntary inch, finding the Dalek actually menacing for maybe the first time since they had entered this house. "You-will-an-swer."

"He won't," Julie-Ann insisted, grabbing the duck by the arms and pulling him out of his chair. Rose was starting to figure out that this was the point where she either needed to go get the Doctor or try to put some stop to whatever was about to happen. "He won't because he's being bad. And he thinks he can get away with it."

"It-will-not-be-tol-er-at-ed." Stanly maneuvered himself around the table, managing to dodge all the toys that were scattered about the floor. "What-do-you-sug-gest-shall-be-done?"

"Maybe he can have a time-out, eh?" Rose interjected, realizing that none of them were listening to her, especially the girl. "Just put him in the corner and think about what he's done." In a lower voice, she added, "Why don't we do that instead?"

"He's going to have to be punished," Julie-Ann decided with all total seriousness. She pulled herself into a crosslegged position, holding the duck in her lap tightly so that it was facing the Dalek.

"You-are-corr-ect-this-course-of-act-ion-must-be-tak-en-if-ord-er-is-to-be-main-tained."

"Wait, are you sure we all can't talk this out?" Rose asked, as the Dalek glided to only a few feet from where Julie-Ann was sitting. "Why don't we call your mom and let her-"

"You don't leave us with any choice, Quackers," Julie-Ann said almost sadly. She held him up toward Stanley. "This is what you get for being bad."

Just then Rose realized that the Dalek's weapon was aimed squarely at the duck.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she called out, leaping to her feet. "It's just a doll!"

"He-will-be-pun-ished. He-will-be . . ."

And by extension, directly at the little girl sitting right behind the duck in the line of fire.

"Don't do this!"

"It's what you get!" the little girl said with glee, and it wasn't clear who she was talking to.

"Ex-ter-min-ated!"

The weapon hummed.

"DON'T-"

---

Brenda raised one eyebrow. "I'm guessing your current job isn't as dramatic as you'd like it to be?" The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but she talked right over him. "Let me guess . . . aspiring actor? Failed actor? You've got the looks for it, tone down some of the nerdiness . . ." he did his best to not look offended at that, ". . . and while you seem quite good at it, very sincere, if you think you can come here and practice your skills during work hours, you really need to go waste someone else's time."

The Doctor blinked. His eyebrows turned down and he looked ready to say something harsh. But then his face relaxed and he broke out into a sheepish grin.

"Oh, you've got me pegged, I'm very sorry." He covered part of his face with one hand. "I've been writing a screenplay in my spare time, you know, that's supposed to make me famous some day." He rolled his eyes at the potential prospect. "And sometimes I can't help but practice some of the lines on people. You know, just to get the general effect. It's all very rubbish, I'm afraid."

"Oh no, it was fine." Brenda reached over and patted him gently on the hand.

The Doctor shrugged. "I couldn't resist, the script's about some terrible force menacing an unsuspecting family and this just seemed too perfect for me to try it out. I didn't mean to act like you were in immediate danger."

"That's perfectly all right." Seeing that his cup was finished, Brenda gathered it together with hers and made her way toward the sink. "Stanley's a bit . . . unusual, so we've come to expect that kind of reaction." Laughing briefly, she added, "In fact, that was pretty much our reaction the first time we found-"

Suddenly a scream rocketed through the house, piercing through every wall like a collapsing waveform.

Brenda looked around in shock. "What was . . ."

"Upstairs!" the Doctor shouted, and he was already halfway there.

---

He rounded the corner of the stairs in a single leap, long legs a scissored blur, going so fast that he nearly slammed into the opposite wall in the process. Recovered, he bounded down the hallway until he reached the room at the end.

A single voice did stand out from the fog of voices, however. One connected to him by a single, trembling line.

"No, stop . . . what are you doing . . . stop-"

"Rose!" he called out. There was a myriad of mixed sounds coming from behind the closed door, none of which he could make out clearly. With one hand he grabbed the screwdriver, at the same time kicking open the door with one sure motion. "I'm coming-"

And immediately got hit in the face with a blast of water.
"What?" he sputtered, staggering back, grabbing hold of the doorframe with one hand to avoid falling onto his rump and nearly dropping the screwdriver in the process.

A girlish giggle forced him to gather his thoughts together quickly. Tucking his sonic tool back into his coat, he wiped at his face, blinking rapidly.

As his vision cleared he could see the little girl sitting on the floor, nearly falling over backwards from laughing. She had a stuffed duck in both hands that was looking a bit soaked, with a slowly spreading stain on the carpet suggesting that the incident had been recent.

"Sorry, Doctor." He turned to see Rose standing to his right, up against the closet doors. She looked much the same as he felt, her dark colored shirt gone a darker shade of blue and strands of limp soggy hair sticking to her face. "I tried to warn you, but the sod was a bit too fast . . ."

"Who?" And this time the Doctor's attention was turned to the fourth being in the room with them, the one swiveling back and forth while its eyestalk kept focusing on one and then the other in turn.

"Ha-ha-ha," it kept saying over and over again. "Ha-ha-ha-ha."

"The looks on their faces were so funny," Julie-Ann said, kicking her feet along the floor.

The Doctor's eyes were close to bugging out of his head. "What are you talking about? What just happened-"

"Ex-ter-min-ate!" the Dalek grated. The weapon arm was still pointed him and before the Doctor could even move a thin stream of water shot out from it, striking him in the chest this time.

"Hey!" he said, darting back until he was partially hidden by the door. "This shirt's vintage 22nd century!"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha." The Dalek glided back a few feet, as if expecting the Doctor to come after him.

"He's got a water gun in there?" the Doctor exclaimed, giving Rose a look she rarely saw, the look that suggested he had come to the vigorous conclusion that he didn't know what the hell was going on. "This is . . . I don't . . ."

"What is all this ruckus about?" Brenda said, bursting into the room. It only took a few seconds for her to take the situation in. "Look at this mess!" Her voice rose into tones that Rose was all too familiar with. "Stanley, did you do this?"

" We-were-on-ly-en-gage-ing-in-"

"Stanley, answer me!"

The eyestalk drooped a little bit. "Your-ass-ump-tion-is-corr-ect."

"You've been told before not to play with your gun in the house. And squirting guests, too! What were you thinking?"

"The-liq-uid-was-harm-less. There-was-no-dan-ger."

"That doesn't matter. What you did was very bad, Stanley! You don't shoot people without asking them first." Brenda pointed outside the room with one stern finger. "I'm very cross with you over this! Now you go outside and stay out there so you can think about what you did and why it was wrong."

"But-a-mends-can-be-made-"

"What did I say, Stanley?" The hand was practically shaking. "Outside. We will talk about this more later."

Both arms were now drooping as well as the Dalek began to glide out of the room, not even daring to look anyone in the eye as he did so.

Rose said quietly into the Doctor's ear, "We drop through into another parallel universe here, or what?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," the Doctor responded, his lips barely moving.

"And Julie-Ann," Brenda said to her daughter, "don't think you're off the hook either. You know better than to encourage him to do things like that. So you stay in your room until supper and we'll talk about this more then." The girl looked down without saying a word.

"Because either we're inside a big delusion or a very elaborate charade . . ."

The Dalek was just exiting the room then, but making a small noise as it did so.

". . . and I'm not sure how much we can really believe or, wait . . ." the Doctor's ears pricked up even as his eyes widened into an incredulous expression. "Is it . . ."

"Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo," the Dalek was saying, sounding as dejected as its monotonal voice would allow.

". . . crying?"

"Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo."

The Doctor and Rose exchanged dumbfounded stares.

---

"None of this is right." The Doctor and Rose were walking along the sidewalk back toward the TARDIS, not so much to go inside as the Doctor needed the walk to help "clear his brain" as he put it. "It's just . . . mad. There has to be something here that we're missing." He frowned, stuffing his hands deeper into the pockets of his long coat, kicking idly at the leaves that were scattered along the path.

"Maybe it's not really a Dalek," Rose suggested. Even as she said it she knew it was a long shot, every instinct in her body had been telling her that was exactly what it was. She couldn't even imagine what the Doctor had to be going through. She had only met them twice, he had fought them countless times, witnessed what they left behind in their wake. Of course, when they had last met them, he had been a different Doctor entirely. That Doctor became possessed by an almost insane intensity when he talked about them, the desire to obliterate them utterly. Now that feeling seem present, but more muted, only seen on edge through a slowly gathering sharpness in his voice. He wanted to do something but the what of it was still being debated.

"I almost hope so, that would make this all a lot easier to swallow," the Doctor admitted, brow furrowed. "I mean, I've seen this kind of thing before, a long time ago for me and a long time from now . . . but not to this extent. It's . . . odd."

"If it wasn't a Dalek, I'd have to say it was acting awfully cute," Rose noted.

"That's what I don't get." He looked up into the sky, squinting into the sun. "If they're field testing some new way to invade, that would be one thing. But I don't really get the impression that it's faking it."

"It's still acting like a Dalek."

"Exactly!" he said, turning to her and flashing that bright grin of his. "It's got all the sensibilities of a Dalek but filtered through something more . . . whimsical." He tapped at his upper lip with one finger. "The trick is to figure out exactly why that's happening and what their plan is."

"You think there's more than one around?" Saying this caused Rose to perform the admirable feat of spooking herself, as she found herself staring around the neighborhood looking for Daleks hidden behind every tree. Although with the way this day was going she wouldn't be surprised to find that they all wanted to play hide and seek. She wished the atmosphere possessed a certain level of eeriness, that curtains would rustle shut when they walked by, children would stare at them in creepy silence, and the wind would whistle hollowly through bare branches. But it was all so very normal. And that was creeping her out.

"Oh, I'm almost sure of it," with that lackadaisical confidence that he kept claiming only came from nine hundred years of dodging peril. "The Daleks don't do anything small. And even one around here is enough of a problem, if you remember."

"I do." Contained, it had nearly slaughtered everyone sealed in with it. Stared her right in the face with its single analyzing eye while she tried to think of a way to talk something that only knew how to kill into not killing her. Nothing she had witnessed so far with them suggested they were capable of learning anything else.

And yet. The sun slowly warming the waning dampness on the front of her shirt, the staccato tone-deaf laugh that had emerged from it suggested to her, that maybe, just maybe, something else was possible.

"Well, whatever it is, they're not going to do it this time." He was speaking forward, to the air, to the future engrained in it. Times like this she was hardly present. "I won't let them. I don't know how they keep surviving but as long as they do, I'm going to be right there to stop them."

"Okay then," Rose said, clapping her hands together as a way to remind him that she was still around. "How exactly are we going to go about it?"

"That's what I'm trying to . . . aha!" He snapped his fingers and broke into a run. Rose thought about chasing after him, it was her first instinct in fact, but then saw the TARDIS maybe half a block ahead and thought it better to keep to a more leisurely pace. The way their adventures often went, she'd be running like a maniac soon enough.

"It just occurred to me that I have just the thing," he said, reaching the TARDIS and unlocking the front door. It was sitting in the street by the curb, with a set of orange construction cones around it and a "Men At Work" sign posted nearby. Rose wondered if anyone had noticed that the silhouette of a man on the sign had horns.

The Doctor absently pulled off two flyers for garage sales that someone had posted on the doors and vanished into the interior. Rose kept strolling up behind but he popped back out again just as she reached the door.

"This," he said, holding up what looked to be a walking stick with a tiny box on each end of it, as well as a series of cheap Christmas lights running up and down the sides, "was a darn useful doohickey when they decided to disguise themselves as fire hydrants. Detects the brainwaves of the mutant inside the shell so if there's an actual Dalek inside that house, or anywhere in the area it should tell us right away." He banged one end of it against his palm. "Once I get it working again, mind you. It took a bit of a beating back then, I was riding on a fire truck when one decided to chase after us. Had to give it a good whack with this." He thumped it one more time and the lights all blinked on simultaneously. "Oh, there it goes!" he said delightedly.

"Fire hydrants?" Rose asked, arms folded across her chest.

"Oh yeah." He turned toward the TARDIS to make sure the door was locked. "Except that nobody ever told them about dogs. So by the time I uncovered them, they were almost relieved." He twisted the key in a lock and turned back, seemingly unaware of his pun. "Ready to go then, all right?"

---

As they returned to the house, the Doctor carrying the device slung onto his shoulder like some kind of hyper-technical baseball bat, a stout grey car was pulling into the driveway, the engine grinding for just two seconds before shuddering to a halt.

Rose and the Doctor had just reached the walkway into the house when a dark-suited man carrying a briefcase got out of the car. He had bushy eyebrows and a full beard that need some trimming, although the set of his face seemed to indicate that really wasn't a major concern of his. Fittingly, he was also taller than both of them.

"Hello?" he said, causing the two of them to stop a few feet from the steps. "Can I help you?"

"You most certainly can," the Doctor said, grinning wildly and moving rapidly toward him, meeting up with him even before he came around the front of the car. He shook the man's hand without the man even seeming to realize it was happening. "I am Doctor John Smith and this is my lovely assistant Rose."

"Hello," Rose said, with a little wave.

The man eyed them both with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Ah, right. Listen, you both seem very nice but I should just tell you up front that whatever you're selling, we don't want any of it." He took a second to look the Doctor up and down. "Especially if what you're selling is whatever the hell that is."

"This? Oh, this is nothing," the Doctor said. "This is just one of the tools of the trade." He clapped the man on the shoulder and steered him toward the house, as if he were inviting him into his own home instead of the other way around. "We're actually here from Child Advancement Services."

This brought the man up short. "Excuse me, what?"

"It's all official right here." The Doctor flashed his blank paper like it was an important badge. The man grimaced but moved no further. "Yes, Child Advancement, it's a new department that the city has created."

He stiffened slightly and seemed to bristle. "We have done nothing but raise our child properly, if you're implying that we-"

"Nothing of the sort, nothing at all like that." The Doctor actively scoffed at the notion, continuing to gently guide the man back toward his house. "We've found that it's hard to gauge how children are doing merely from tests, so it's been decided that a more personal touch was needed."

"Personal touch?" The phrase didn't assuage his mood any.

"Yes, absolutely." The Doctor prodded at the man's shoulder with one finger. "What we've decided to do is take a sample selection of students and make personal visits to the homes to best get an idea of how the schools are doing. All of this is done with the parents present, of course."

"I see." He eyed the Doctor, even as the other man opened his own front door for him and gamely waved him through. Rose watched it all with growing amusement, amazed at the Doctor's ability to fast talk his way into most situations.

"We have a whole range of questions to ask, it's all very scientific. None of that treating everyone like numbers approach that has been so popular lately. In my department we get down to the real facts . . ."

Rose made to follow them but stopped after putting her first foot on the step. An idea came to her and she craned her neck to stare around the corner of the house and down the driveway.

". . . although I must say we've heard some very good things about your daughter so far, so I imagine this will go very well . . ."

She stepped away, moved to the edge of the corner of the house.

"That's good to hear, sir . . ."

Looked around again, brushing some hair away from her face as she did so.

". . . but I'm afraid you may have a certain problem with that approach . . ."

Casting one last glance back, Rose slipped around the side of the house.

"Oh? Do tell-"

The screen door slammed shut.

---

Brenda, setting some plates down on the table, looked up sharply as soon as the two of them came in. "Oh, hello Marty," she said, greeting her husband with a bright grin that faded into confusion once the Doctor came striding in behind her. "And, ah, you're back too."

Martin placed the briefcase on the table and spun around. The Doctor stopped in his tracks with a squeak of his sneakers, tilting his head to the side slightly and brandishing a cheeky smirk.

"Back? What does she mean by that?" he demanded.

"He said he was the safety inspector, him and that other girl," Brenda noted, moving about halfway around the table, as if trying to flank the Doctor.

Martin shot his wife a look. "He told me he was part of Child Advancement Services."

"Never heard of them."

"New agency, honest," the Doctor said quickly, his gaze darting from one to the other without really settling on either. "I actually cover both departments, recent budget cuts are making us all wear lots of hats these days." He glanced up at the ceiling even as he slipped around Brenda and pivoted on his heel. "I used to wear a hat, I used to really like hats. Whatever happened to those days?"

"How do you have an assistant then if your budget's been cut?" Brenda asked, folding her arms over her chest in her best severe mother fashion.

"Unpaid intern, trying to get experience before going into the real world. But . . . sh!" he held a finger to his lips. "Don't tell her. Lovely girl, really, but still a bit naive, has to work down in the grit and grime a little more."

Brenda didn't seem convinced and Martin was silently fuming, hard lines etching themselves into his face like a sidewalk cracking on a hot day. "And what's the giant stick for?"

"This?" The Doctor tapped it against his shoulder. "Why, the Yardstick of Learning, of course."

"This is ridiculous," Martin snarled, suddenly breaking away from the table to cross the room.

"The walking staff that helps you climb to excellence?" the Doctor ventured but Martin had already reached the phone.

Yanking the handset off the wall, he eyed the Doctor and said, "The only thing you'll be climbing out of is the hole the police are going to throw you in once they come here and arrest you."

---

The driveway was long and partially covered in grass, with concrete slivers showing through like the bones of broken fingers. Rose slinked past a pair of garbage cans, one of which held a pile of plastic recycling. A big eyed cartoon character stared at her forlornly as she walked by, with a constant question of why. The grey toned numbness of the aluminum siding seemed to be less an aesthetic choice than the color being leached out of the world. It reminded her of home, for some reason, the bleached and bland exteriors stacked on top of each other, the simmering silence that seemed part of a net thrown out from every door.

She wasn't sure what to think about any of this so far. The Doctor's instincts were generally right and with Daleks that was doubly true. But something about this one struck her as different, maybe it was the odd sincere sadness that seemed to infuse even its movements as it left the child's room before. For something that didn't possess anything resembling body language, it sure had been trying hard to radiate regret.

Something was off here, but the pieces weren't adding up. The Doctor was certain he had come up with the picture that the puzzle formed but Rose wondered if he had a tunnel vision when it came to Daleks that forced him to overlook any other possibilities.

And the best way she could come up with to get a better image was to go and ask the source.

The back of the house sported a little open porch, with a door that led into a vestibule area, as far as she could tell. Maybe a pantry. Vaguely she could hear the Doctor's voice, sounding as rolling and disarming as ever. The backyard was narrow in its width but appeared to extend further back, beyond a moderate sized shed that rested toward the rear and left of the yard.

"Hello?" she called out, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the yard. Nobody was in sight, although there were some toys lying about, a couple horseshoes, an empty wading pool and a tricycle resting on its side. "Stanley?"

No response. Well, fair enough, if it was acting like a child it would have no reason to respond to a stranger. God knew she had enough sense. But if the Dalek was playing some kind of weird deceptive game, how far was it going to take this? How far could they push it before the mask began to slip? And would they really enjoy the result of uncovering it. Daleks were a dormant fire that, once ignited, could only be extinguished by burying the whole house in with them.

"Are you hiding, Stanley?" Rose moved through the low grass with light footsteps, although running wouldn't help her too much here. Not if it was just going to shoot her. How fast could they even move on grass anyway?

Did it even come outside? She hadn't seen where it had gone after it left the room, for all she knew it might have a spot in the cellar to go to for moping purposes. Or plotting more genocide. But no, Brenda seemed to have been telling it to go outside to sulk so chances are it was out here. At least she knew they could climb stairs, although the memory of it was not among her fondest. Sometimes learning new facts wasn't always a good thing.

"Come on, Stanley, I just want to talk to you." That was an awful weird name for a Dalek as well, although she had to admit that it seemed to fit. Maybe the kid had named it. "I'm not mad at you for getting me wet, I only want to-"

Aha. There, behind the shed. The slanted sunlight revealed a spot like stained black paint spilling out from around the back of it. A stain with a dome on the top of it.

"I see you, Stanley," Rose said, in her best playful voice. Maybe doing this on the Dalek's terms, weird as it seemed, was the only way to go here. If she was lucky maybe she could avoid explosions for once. The shadow seemed to twitch slightly, almost like it was giggling. "I know where you are and I'm going to find you."

She kept close to the shed wall, her hand trailing along the Braille of its cracked and peeling paint. "Oh, where could Stanley be?" She had no shadow at all, trapped in the shade of the little structure. It didn't make her feel any more invisible. "Maybe he's right over-"

"Here." And the Dalek, faster than she expected, stopped being a shadow and suddenly became all too solid, darting around the corner and extending its plunger arm rapidly, aiming right for her chest.

---

The Doctor didn't even move., although a certain hardness came into his eyes. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, flat and cold. "I am dead serious."

Martin laughed in a voice that matched the Doctor's tone. "So am I. And it's a little late for that now, if you think you're going to-"

In three strong steps the Doctor was across the room, the stick flashing out and knocking the receiver from the man's hand. Neither man moved in the aftermath, the Doctor having shifted to a wide stance, one hand on each end of the stick. The receiver dangled between the two of them, swaying and twisting slightly and for a few seconds the only sound that could be heard in the room was the monotonal drone of the dial tone.

"You're mad," Martin said quietly, meeting the Doctor's unflinching gaze.

"I just don't want to put more people in danger than there already are," was the reply.

The dial tone shifted, became an insistent beeping.

"You're not from the city, are you?" Brenda asked, coming around the table.

"Not from any city that's near here," came his offhand reply. "And neither is that thing you have babysitting your daughter." Stepping past Martin, he picked up the receiver and with a quiet precision hung it back up. The layer of background noise it created suddenly ceased, silent water seeping into the scene.

"Stanley?" Martin looked over to Brenda. "How does this man know about him?"

"They just ran in," Brenda explained. "They seemed to know about him already."

"I know enough," the Doctor said evenly.

"You don't know anything," Martin countered. "All I've heard you do is spout a lot of nonsense and make some claims. Like just because you walk in carrying some giant gaudy stick, we're supposed to believe everything you say."

"Well, it's more of a genotype specific localized detector but I can see where you get giant gaudy stick from . . ."

Martin pressed in, jabbing a finger into the Doctor's chest. "You don't know the first thing that Stanley has done for us."

"I know what he's capable of doing." The Doctor's stare bore down on Martin. "Do you? Do you even have the faintest conception of it? I have. I've walked in cities where not a single breath stirs the air. Walked in fields where even the sky burns and screams. Watched the stars go out one by one, like a signature written in the universe with the darkest possible ink. Seen oceans sizzle away and mountains crumble, as if bringing the heights low wasn't low enough. I've seen civilizations collapse and vanish, without even a trace of them left behind." There was a certain density to the last sentence, coiled hooks weighted right into the edges, tugging every syllable down. "Mine was one. All because of them."

"Because of Stanley?" Brenda ran her fingers through some tangled hair. "Come on, Doctor, now you're just being melodramatic-"

A shriek broke into her statement, causing everyone's attention to snap toward the source of it.

"It came from the backyard," Martin noted.

"That was Rose!" The Doctor was already moving, so only the words hovered behind in his wake.

---

Her rear hurt and the bright sky was peeling into the edges of her vision like a smothering blue blindfold, but that wasn't what was making Rose angry.

It was the giggling Dalek.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," it said.

"You're a right little sod, you are," Rose muttered, shifting her legs and ignoring the pain it sent shooting through her tailbone. Grass tickled her cheeks and it actually felt nice. If not for her new mocking buddy, it would be the most peaceful moment she'd had in months, watching the clouds drift by overhead on lazy luminous tracks. You see so many skies when you travel, she thought, that you forget how wonderful your own is. Floating inside a fishbowl where no one ever looked in to bother you. Even the weight on her chest was distant, merely a pleasant pressure. She could have stayed like this for ages.

So of course, the Doctor had to come and ruin it.

His set of footprints was what she felt first, the rapid slippery thumping that traveled as wired vibrations right to her nerves, through the hairs of her skin. The slower steadier thumpings of other people right behind it, all moving in unsynchronized tandem, falling into rhythm almost by accident.

"Rose!" Suddenly he was right overhead, a beanpole shadow undercut by the barest hint of eclipsed lens flare. He was a rod of intensity in a world that barely knew how to harness his electricity. "We have to come up with a different danger signal. It's starting to become something of a cliché."

Rose sighed. "No, I'm fine. He just surprised me again." With a wince she sat up, feeling the rounded weight that had been resting on her chest suddenly roll off.

Detached, she watched the bouncy red ball tumble away. "Apparently I was supposed to know how to play that game."

Brenda made a face, as if Rose had said something stupid. "It's just catch. That's all."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "He likes to play catch?"

Brenda gave the Doctor a look similar to the one she had given Rose, although hers seemed more along the lines of Who doesn't? "Here, Stanley," she said, scooping the ball off the ground and tossing it in an easy underhanded fashion to him.

"The-tar-get-has-been-a-quir-ed." Stanley pivoted on the grass, wobbled back and forth a few inches before his plunger arm shot out unerringly to snag the ball in mid-flight. He drew it in closer to the shell of his body. "The-ob-ject-has-been-cap-tured." He rotated in a quick circle, extending his arm out as if trying to show off to everyone. "I-have-cap-tured-the-ball."

"I see that," Brenda said brightly. "Now can you throw it back here for me?"

He backed up slightly, again bringing the ball closer to his body. It shifted from left to right a little, a movement matched by his eyestalk. Brenda smiled and held out her hands.

"Here," she said, wiggling her fingers.

Suddenly the arm extended rapidly and Stanley released the ball, sending it flying through the air in a straightened arc to land neatly in Brenda's outstretched hands.

"Excellent, Stanley!" Brenda said, flipping it back to him before it had settled into her grasp for even a few seconds. The Dalek caught it again without a problem and just as rapidly sent it rocketing back to her.

It banged against her hands and dropped immediately to the ground. "Oops!" she said, watching it bounce sadly against the grass, giving the Dalek an "Oh well" look and holding out her hands as if mystified why they were suddenly empty.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," Stanley said, swiveling left and right.

"He likes when you drop the ball every so often," Brenda said. "For some reason it seems to amuse-oh."

She had been turning toward the Doctor as she spoke, and it took Rose a second to figure out what had made her stop speaking. It was the tiny twinkling reflections in her eyes that Rose saw. Reflected by what was directly across from her.

By the Doctor's staff.

All the lights on it were flashing silently, a single pattern running up and down the length of it in what looked to Rose like a frantic alarm. Red and blue and green and orange and maybe even for a moment colors that she didn't have proper names for, like those elements that her science teacher talked about, the ones that only existed for a millisecond. Not even that. What was the point of it, she had asked. If you're barely around for anyone to notice, what's the point?

But we noticed, the smug bugger would always say. And isn't that point enough?

Rose was noticing now. They all were.

"Doctor . . ." she heard herself saying.

Slowly, he lowered the staff so that the point of it was aimed directly at Stanley. The Dalek didn't say a word, merely stared at the flashing stick with its disco danger lights. The clashing brightnesses tried to play across its metal shell but barely made an impression on the dark shiny surface.

"I know what you are," the Doctor said with a storm behind his eyes. There could be only one person who he was talking to. "I am not fooled at all."

Stanley's eyestalk merely focused on the Doctor and only the Doctor.

"And whatever you're planning on doing here, I'm going to stop it." The staff shimmered like jeweled lightning between them. "Do you hear me?"

The Doctor's expression was chiseled in eternity. Rose suppressed a shiver as for the first time she realized Stanley looked like what it was supposed to be.

"Ha," it said.

For the first time, Stanley looked exactly like a Dalek.

" Ha-ha-ha."

---

"Your friend is a remarkably intense young man," Martin said as the four of them went back toward the house. Brenda and Martin had told Stanley to stay outside for a little while longer, which the Dalek had agreed to. The last Rose saw of it, it was bouncing the ball against the shed. She had the absurd mental image of it accidentally getting the ball stuck on the roof and burning down the shed to get it back. And giggling.
Brenda and the Doctor were up ahead, with him using the detection device as a walking stick. "Yeah, he can be, sometimes," Rose admitted with a shrug and what she hoped was a charming smile. "But he means well. And he can solve anything. I've seen him do it. I've seen him take problems that legions of the smartest people in the world couldn't figure out and have it all sorted out before breakfast coffee arrives."

"And he thinks Stanley is a problem." That skeptical flatness to his voice, the sense of inadvertent misdirection.

"If he's right then . . ." Rose took a deep breath. "Yes." She ducked her head and let her hair fall into her eyes, slitting the sunlight with golden curtains. "I'm sorry. You seem to be very fond of him."

Martin didn't look at her directly. He squinted him into the sky, as if blinding himself could somehow bring about a solution to a problem he couldn't even properly define. "We are." Quiet and compressed, the opposite of a Dalek speech. "But you've got it all wrong." Rose waited for him to add that Stanley was really sweet and kind and a total joy to have around and all the things the Doctor was hinting at were simply not true. But instead Martin left it at what he said and added nothing more, resolutely studying the paths his wife and the Doctor made in the grass.

". . . detects a certain kind of danger, as unusual as it looks," the Doctor was saying to Brenda, who was walking alongside with her hands clasped behind her back. "It's keyed to specific DNA superstructures . . . it was originally designed by King Halprenet of Notanos IV, he had an underclass subspecies of shapeshifters that kept trying to overthrow his government and this wound up being the easiest way of telling if that was really your guard or some bloke who was about to change his arm into a giant sword."

"I see," Brenda said politely, like when parents would tell children would a wonderful imagination they had. "And why do you have one? There can't be that many shapeshifters trying to kill you."

The Doctor laughed. "Oh no, it stopped being useful when the shapeshifters all figured out how to mask their DNA by changing it as well." He bit his lip and cocked his head to the side. "Unfortunately they did too good a job and on one mission to sneak through the sewers, changed themselves into a species of furry fish so completely that they forgot they were shapeshifters and didn't think to ever change back. I've found that it works just fine for confirmation purposes, or to see if someone is lurking out of sight." He tapped the top of it against one palm. "I'm working on a smaller model, or I was a couple hundred years ago, time just slips by you sometimes . . . but there's a certain blunt elegance to this, I feel."

They had reached the back porch. "That still doesn't explain how you got it."

The Doctor hopped up the steps two at a time, still holding the stick in two hands. "It was left behind in the wreckage of Halprenet's palace. He was clever, but he was still a tyrant. And that eventually caught up with him." Fires flickered in the shadows of his pupils. Brenda just stopped in mid-step, staring at him, at the lanky impossible force of him.

"What are you trying to say?" As if questions like that could be asked outloud.

"That wrongs never persist forever. That justice is never too far away. And that someone will always come along eventually to give it a little push." He thumped the stick hard on the wood floor, breaking whatever spell had just been conjured. "And that we should probably continue this discussion inside." Grinning, he opened the screen door and swept the stick toward it with a flourish. "After you?"

---

Julie-Ann was sitting at the kitchen table when they came in, playing with a coloring book. The chair was too tall for her and so her feet were swinging idly as she studied her array of crayons, debating which one to choose to color in the dog's nose with all the seriousness that an artist her age should have.

"There's my girl!" Martin said as soon as he entered, brushing past them to give his daughter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How was school today? Anything exciting happen?" She smiled at him and returned the hug but kept on coloring. Martin pulled up a chair next to her. "This is coming out great, honey. Mom come look at this."

Brenda joined her family and the three of them surveyed the picture with the requisite amount of oohing and ahhing over the purple cartoon dog with the blue and green head. At least it was inside the lines.

"That's come out real nice," Brenda said. She pointed out the little house in the background of the picture. "What color are you going to make this?"

Julie-Ann just blinked and selected another color, a pleasing turquoise shade, and began to work diligently on it.

Rose examined the fridge, where a few of the girl's past artworks were on display, all with a child's typical eye for clashing colors. There was even a stick figure drawing of what Rose presumed was her family, with a mom and a dad and a smaller stick figure that seemed to represent a little kid. And a fourth, kind of pepper shaker shaped, with three little sticks coming out of it.

"Good choice," Martin said sagely. Glancing over at Brenda with a look that was at odds with his tone, he rustled the girl's hair and said, "Mom's going to start dinner soon . . . since we have guests, is there anything you'd like?"

Julie-Ann looked up at him and smiled again but just as quickly went back to focusing on her crayons.

"Maybe pasta? You always liked that. Maybe Mom can make that for you?" There was a quiet pleading quality to his voice, the sense of someone sticking his hand in a chilled lake over and over again, in the hopes that he might be able to capture some of the moonlight he saw reflected there.

"I'll start the pasta," Brenda said in a spent voice, suddenly heading toward the stove. The Doctor was watching this all intently, his stance relaxed and frozen.

As she passed by the Doctor, Brenda leaned over and whispered to him, "Do you see now? What the problem is?"

"She doesn't talk." His lips hardly moved. "Not to you."

"Not to anyone," Brenda clarified. "Just Stanley. So don't you see? Having him around is the only way I can hear my daughter's voice."'

They had left the little girl in the kitchens and let her go about her coloring, while the rest of them retired to the living room to wait for dinner to finish cooking. At first Rose had thought it was odd that they had to leave the room, until she realized that just because the child was mute, it didn't mean she was deaf. No doubt she understood everything she heard. What a stupid assumption to make, Rose thought with a flush.

The Doctor and her were sitting on one couch, the Doctor having propped the stick between them. On a whim she had given it a pillow to lean on. Brenda and Martin were sitting across from on the other couch, both of them fidgeting slightly. For whatever reason they had come to accept the Doctor, even if they didn't necessarily believe any of his stated excuses for coming here. Rose had to admit the Doctor tended to have that effect on people. Even when you knew he was lying, it was like you had no choice but to trust him. Even his ulterior hidden motives were rife with conviction.

"Now," the Doctor said, leaning forward and folding his hands together, managing to eye them both in a single stare, "why don't we start from the beginning? I've always found that's a lovely place to start from."

The two parents glanced at each other, as if playing a silent game of rock-scissors-paper to see who would talk first. Martin appeared to win the brief contest, or maybe lose judging by the look on his face, because he sighed and spoke first. "When Julie-Ann was born, she seemed perfectly normal. Not a thing wrong with her."

"No, well, she had that brief fever," Brenda interjected.

"She did, but it cleared up and the doctors checked her out. Passed everything with flying colors." His gaze wandered toward the kitchen, perhaps expecting her to be waiting around the corner listening. But he dragged his attention back with a sharp tug. "And even she was an infant but made the usual baby noises, gurglings and cooings and all that other cute nonsense."

Brenda smiled faintly. "Sometimes if just the two of us were home I'd put the radio on and dance with her a little, just hold her up and bounce her around. She used to laugh and try to sing along. It was . . ." she suddenly frowned, intertwining her hands. "I'm sorry." Her voice was buried cotton and she patted her husband's leg. "Go on, then."

"But instead of learning how to say words, she eventually just . . . stopped talking." Martin wiped at his forehead, even though Rose saw no sweat there. He was blinking fast, caught in the strobe flicker of his own memories. "I didn't notice it at first, until she was out with other kids. You know kids, how they run around babbling to everyone who will listen, or nobody at all if it comes to that. But Julie, she would just do her thing, run around with the kids, play on the swings, play tag, all that stuff, all that normal stuff. Except talk. She never said a word."

"One of the other mothers pointed it out to me first," Brenda said. "But I said, oh, she's just quiet. She'll develop in her own time. Her own way." There was still a dulled undercurrent of confidence in that statement, a hope that maybe only a mother could possess.

"God help me, I thought she had gone dumb at first." Martin bent at the middle and pressed his hands to either side of his nose. The admission didn't come easily but perhaps he felt it was necessary. The little nagging nuggets of shame. "But her doctors said she was okay in the head, she was right where a kid her age should be. And she is, she's a sharp little girl." He shook his head and sat back with a sigh, attempting to sink into the couch. "So I thought she was deaf, maybe. Or hard of hearing. But no, she can hear just fine. We had her tested for that too."

The Doctor hadn't said anything thus far and Rose felt one of them should have spoken by now. "So what do you think the problem is?"

"We have no idea," Brenda replied with resigned amusement. "She just won't talk. We didn't think she was even capable of it."

"Your mother used to joke that we were raising a monk," Martin pointed out, although his laugh was tinged with something less than humor.

"Yeah. She did." The space between those sentences held every shred of meaning and an argument that had never been pursued.

"But she does now." The Doctor leaned back, resting one ankle on the opposite knee and rubbing his chin. But there was a tautness to the shape of his eyes that belayed his relaxed pose. "She started. How?"

Martin pressed his hands together flat, perhaps hoping that the solution might be caught in between. "We let her play outside in the backyard one afternoon. It wasn't a good idea but . . ."

"No, it wasn't," Brenda interjected. "But I was cleaning and she kept getting in the way and so I said, go run around outside, go play out there." A film in front of her eyes wavered. "If something had happened, there was no way she could have warned us. That's how close we came, that's-"

"But something did happen."

"Yeah." Brenda pulled her lips together tightly, frowned. "There wasn't any kind of warning, all of a sudden the lights got sort of dim, like someone had plugged in twenty hair driers and turned them all on at once. And the air got sort of . . . crackly. I thought a storm might be coming but I could see out the front window and the sky was just fine, blue as ever."

"Bluest sky I ever seen," Martin muttered but there was no truth in the way he said it. It was only another story that he'd tell himself, embellished and bronzed details of a day gone down.

"Then there was a . . . flash." Her mouth twisted at one end. "At least I think there was, I was inside and I was sure it was outside but I . . . I felt it." She flexed the fingers on one hand. "Like it was in my bones." Brenda let the hand drop back into her lap. "There was no sound at all right after that, for a few minutes. It wasn't that I'd gone deaf, I thought all the sound in the world had been turned off." Her eyes had been starting to close, receding perhaps into memory.

She trailed off and it didn't seem like she would speak again. Rose felt the Doctor rustle at her side, preparing to prompt when Brenda's eyes snapped open.

"That's when I heard it." Each word was a stamp into hardened clay. Crumbling at the edges but holding onto the shape. "This . . . noise. This sound. Rising and falling, like a musical chiming, like nothing I'd ever heard before. I couldn't even figure out where it was coming from, not at first.

"But after maybe a minute had gone by I heard another sound join it, rougher around the edges, much more mechanical. Staccato." She glanced down, raised both eyebrows, considering old facts for the first time. "Yet they seemed to go together well, blending." Rose wondered if she had ever told this story before, even to her husband. She had a hesitant, paleontologist's precision to her words, carefully chiseling away at the dirt and stone that had begun to accumulate around them. "I could tell it was coming from the backyard." Her gaze glanced in that direction, apparently unconsciously. Martin slumped further on the couch, hands buried in the pockets of his dress pants, saying nothing.

"Where you'd left your daughter," the Doctor said.

"Yeah," Brenda replied, blinking in surprise. "I didn't run out there, though. I don't know why. Even when I think about it, it's so weird to me. I knew she was out there, I knew something had happened and . . . I wasn't in a hurry."

"Post-dilation effect." The Doctor uncrossed his legs and sat forward again, right on the edge of the couch. "You experienced a brief stretching of time, and then the subsequent snapping back. It tends to induce a certain hazy lassitude for those who aren't ready for it." Feeling Rose's raised eyebrow he looked toward her and said, "What? My people used to get massages with it. It's actually quite relaxing."

Brenda gave them both a look that suggested she was going to perform some time dilation of her own and pretend the last fifteen seconds didn't happen. "As soon as I got out the back door, I knew what was going on. Or at least I saw what was." She pressed her hands together, tapped the tip of her nose. "It was my daughter, it was Julie-Ann, in the backyard." Her gaze searched both the Doctor and Rose, spotlights into an unyielding mist. "She was standing with . . . with something I'd never seen before. But suddenly the noise made all the sense in the world. And I knew why I didn't recognize it. Because I never expected to hear it."

She laughed then, the last few inches up an impossible hill. "Don't you see? It was Julie-Ann. It was her. It was her voice. She was singing. They both were. Her and Stanley, singing some silly little children's song."

---

"You knew his name was Stanley then?" Rose asked.

"No, he told us later," Martin said, still looking down into his lap. "We thought it stood for something, to be honest. We thought he was some kind of government robot that had gotten loose. A weird experiment . . . like that one movie from the eighties?"

Rose furrowed her brow, trying to remember. "The Fly?"

"No, Rose . . ." the Doctor made a face. "Short Circuit, right?" Both husband and wife nodded. "Oh yes, delightful movie, brilliant documentary. I always get a lump in my throat when they think they've blown the poor guy up." He leaned his head back a little and laughed at the ceiling.

But by the time he looked back at the family his expression had turned deadly serious. "But this is no movie and that's no government robot."

"So you keep saying." Martin looked unconvinced for all the wrong reasons.

"It's what called a Dalek . . . there's actually a living thing inside of that shell. And it exists to kill, kill anything that isn't like it because it can't tolerate knowing that being that aren't the same as it are still alive." The Doctor's voice had been rising in a sharpened fervor as he kept talking, his feet kept tapping against the ground like he was going to lift up off the couch, reach over and grab Martin and Brenda by the throat. "Whatever it's here for, whatever it is doing hiding at your house, it all boils down to one simple thing . . . death. Death for every single living being it can get close enough to kill. It's made of hate, raw bubbling hate . . ."

"That's not true . . ." Brenda whispered at him.

"I have walked through graveyards as big as planets stacked with the corpses of the races that his kind has destroyed," the Doctor practically shouted at her. He had stood up now, become a telescoping monolith that never stopped rising, easily crossing the three steps between the two couches. "I have seen lives ruined, in the past and in the future, I have seen the untold suffering that the Daleks have caused, heard a thousand languages screaming why over and over again." His jaw muscles were working overtime, tension radiating in knots and cords.

"Now listen here!" Martin roared, leaping to his feet so that he was standing eye to eye with the Doctor. "Stanley hasn't harmed anyone!"

"Do you keep a bomb as a pet and feel secure simply because it hasn't gone off yet?" the Doctor seethed.

Martin's finger prodded hard at the Doctor's chest. "Who are you to simply waltz in here and make all these assertions, all these demands . . . and we're just supposed to believe you? Why?"

"I could take you to the evidence." The Doctor was very quiet. Even though they were nearly the same height, somehow he seemed to be staring down at Martin from a great distance. "I could take you right now to places that your imagination can't even conceive of. I could show you exactly what I was talking about." He swallowed thickly. "But I wouldn't expose you to that level of horror. Not even to prove a point. I know, more than anything else in this universe, that all they want is death and-"

"Cotton candy." This was Brenda, who suddenly walked between the two men rapidly, wiping at her eyes.

"What?" The Doctor watched her go for a few seconds, and then started to follow.

She reached the mantelpiece, snatched up a small photo that was resting on top of it. As the Doctor caught up to her, she thrust the photograph at him. "Here."

He took it, confused, and studied it.

"Cotton candy?" he asked after a second.

Rose had gotten up off the couch and wandered over to the two of them. Putting one hand on the Doctor's arm, she leaned over to see the picture. It was of Julie-Ann and Stanley, probably in the kitchen. The little girl was smiling and had her arms around the base of the Dalek, while the Dalek seemed to be wearing a crown of cotton candy.

"He can't eat it but . . . he loves it. We don't know why. We went to the fair one time and brought it back, left it on the table. When we came back in, he had twisted it all up, he did it for hours, laughing the whole time. So we bring him some back every time we go somewhere that has it. Sometimes he likes to wear it as a hat, he'll roll around for days with it on his head." She suddenly plucked the photograph from the Doctor's hands. He met her stare slowly but with an unwavering steadiness. "Maybe these . . . Daleks you talk about, maybe they're capable of all the terrible things you say. The world, it's capable of being very cruel, we know. But someone who can make a little girl laugh and talk, when she never has before? Who likes to play with cotton candy and catch balls? Who enjoys tea parties with dolls? I won't believe it, no. I'm sorry." Gently she placed the picture back on the mantle. "You strike me as someone who's used to being right, and probably is a lot of times. But you're wrong here."

"I'm not, I am telling you that I am not," the Doctor insisted, looking to Brenda and then Martin. "This, what he's doing . . . it's just an act. They're clever and they're evil and they will do whatever it takes to make sure everyone is dead. Do you hear me . . . dead!" Brenda didn't react, at least not with the agreement the Doctor was hoping for. His eyes narrowed and his voice went even lower. "I won't let that happen. You get one chance to let me do this right . . ."

"Or what?" This was Martin and it was less bluster than honest defense.

"Or I do this my way." A star could have been extinguished in the depths of his words. "But either way he has to go. Before someone gets-"

Suddenly there was a clatter of footsteps from just outside the room. Small footsteps, galloping quickly into recession. The back door could be heard squeaking open and then banging shut.

Then there wasn't any other sound.

Brenda looked toward the kitchen and then back toward the Doctor, with a searing slowness, a cigarette being dragged across pale skin. To his credit, he didn't flinch.

"What were you going to say?" she asked, the shivering quiet in the aftermath of a mortar going off. "Before someone gets hurts? Was that it?"

The Doctor said nothing. He lifted his chin slightly, Adam's apple throbbing.

"But I think that's already happened now, hasn't it?" she added, before storming off and out of the room.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but Rose hooked her arm inside his and steered him also out of the room, snatching up the detection stick thing on the way. "Come on, outside you."

"What, but we have to-"

"Outside," Rose hissed and yanked open the front door.

---

"You've seen what they can do," the Doctor was saying, walking in stiffed legged rapid strides, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and regarding the changing view of the sidewalk underneath his feet with fixed intensity. "I don't think I'm being hyperbolic here. I'm reacting exactly as I should be."

"Mm," Rose said, doing her best to walk alongside him even if she had to break into a jog every other minute or so. Cradling a giant stick covered in inert lights wasn't making it easier and not for the first time she wondered how she had gotten saddled with caddy duty.

"They're extremely clever. We know this. Remember the one with Van Stratten? Or Satellite Five?" The mention of that incident was nearly enough to throw him off his pace, as it was the time when he had stopped being what he was and had become what he was now. "Of course you do, it's not that long ago for you, although it feels like a life . . . ah, never mind." He shook his head, running a hand over his hair and squeezing the back of his neck. "These people, oh they're quite nice but they don't know. Not like we do. So I'm not being unreasonable here, demanding something be done. I'm not. Because I can't see them destroy any more lives, I can't watch them once more crawl from under the wreckage of the mess they helped create. I know the universe isn't fair, I know it's never going to be fair, but I can't sit by and let this happen . . . whatever is going to happen."

"Well, maybe it's . . ." but he had pulled ahead of her somehow, forcing Rose to pick up into a run again. God, someone needs to take out his batteries before he-

Suddenly he stopped and spun around, nearly forcing Rose to knock him down. She stopped herself in time, but even muscle in her back thanked her for it. His stare was open and unwavering and conflicted.

"I'm not being unreasonable here, am I?" he asked.

Rose didn't quite know to answer this. Most situations they had been in, even the tricky ones, presented some kind of starting point, some way into a just resolution. But none of those tricky situations had ever involved Daleks. It had always been simple: when Daleks showed up, you had to stop them.

But his expression appeared to demand some kind of answer, imperfect as it might be. She was only a silly human being, so it seemed best to start with the facts.

"It is a Dalek," she said.

"Yes, and that's the thing . . . that's the thing." He stalked off again, but walking backwards this time, somehow managing to navigate the multitude of sidewalk cracks and concrete plates thrust up in tectonic microcosms without tripping over his own feet. "They only have one goal. Many, many ways of getting there, but only one goal. And . . . I've dealt with them for so long that I can normally see, because I'm very clever, where their plans are heading." He ducked a low hanging branch without even breaking sentence or stride. "But I keep trying to take all the parts of this and put them together how I think the puzzle should go . . . and I can't get a solid picture out of it."

"Maybe that's the problem . . . you're starting with the conclusion and working your way backwards." She reached out and tapped him lightly on the side of the leg with the staff. "That's not like you."

"No." He sucked at his upper lip. "It's not." He looked away and then back at her again, doing a little hop over a particularly jagged piece of slate. "But I'm not very objective around Daleks, never have been . . . okay, maybe the first time I met them I was but that didn't last long." He fell silent for a few seconds but spoke again before Rose could think of anything else to say.

"This is weird, Rose. Maybe I'm not being like me but they are definitely not being like themselves either."

"Maybe it was some kind of weird Time War accident," Rose suggested. "He got lost and the trauma made him . . . regress or something."

"But why regress to something an Earth child can relate to?" he mused. "None of it makes any sense."

"Everyone seems happy. Perhaps it's best to just . . . leave it." Those were not words she expected to come out of her mouth. Not after listening to everyone screaming down on the lower levels until the shouts of exterminate and weapons finally drowned them out. Sometimes, in the nights when the stars were less a grand vista than a cold showcase of unapproachable distance, she wondered how long they had lain there until someone finally came along to give them some dignity. It was an odd thought and she didn't know exactly what it meant. But the Daleks often forced your thoughts into oblique corners.

The Doctor didn't respond right away. In fact, his first answer was to halt, his body ramrod straight, drawing Rose up short yet again.

"I can't afford to be wrong," he said eventually, without looking up. "Not here. Not with them. I just can't."

There was a part of her that wanted to hug him just then, but it didn't seem right.

Instead she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. For someone who claimed to have a body temperature that hovered somewhere around her age, he always felt so warm to her, even though his coat. Like all the heat kept radiating to the surface, doing what he couldn't do . . . go in every direction at once. And escape.

"It laughed," was all she said.

A muscle worked rapidly in his cheek. "I know. At me."

There was a mild infusion of offense in his voice that almost made her laugh, so wounded did he sound. "Yeah, and at me too." She shook his shoulder in a way meant to be comforting. "And no one laughs at the Oncoming Storm." Releasing him, she took a step back, using the stick to brace her stance against the pavement.

He met her gaze, that little half smirk gracing his face, the one that always made him look young.

"It understood humor," she said. "It had a sense of humor. That's hard to fake."

"Are you saying I'm easy to laugh at?" Archly, but tempered.

It took every effort not to laugh, with the way he said it. "I'm saying it's not easy to laugh if you don't know how. Even the one in Van Stratten's bunker had its DNA mixed with . . . with mine and it still didn't understand humor. It didn't like what it had become. This one seems perfectly okay with what it is."

"As long as you throw it a ball every so often," the Doctor muttered out of the side of his mouth. He pivoted and the two of them started walking again, as if by some secret signal. Nobody said anything else until they reached the familiar blue boxed sight of the TARDIS.

The Doctor stood at the door with one hand pressed flat against it, saying nothing. Rose let a minute go by before deciding that they had stood there long enough and were starting to look ridiculous.

"You ready to go back now?" she said.

He didn't turn around. "Leaving was never really an option. I'm not one to go without seeing something through."

"And besides, you're really curious."

He shrugged and turned around, revealing a broad grin. "I'm afraid you've got me pegged." The grin faded as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "Yeah, there's too many mysteries floating around this to suit me. I've got to take a stab at solving at least one of them before sundown." He raised an eyebrow, looking rather cheeky as he did. "I've got a reputation to maintain, you know."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Men. It's always about the ego." The Doctor gave her a wounded look that she could only laugh at. Raising the staff, she said, "What do you want me to do with this. I don't fancy carting it all the way back."

He inclined his head toward the TARDIS. "Leave it leaning up against that. It's served its usefulness and if anyone wants to bother stealing a gaudy walking stick, they're welcome to it."

"Don't have to ask me twice," Rose said, resting it on the door. She put her hands on her hips. "Ready?"

"Yeah." He let the word exhale. Almost absently, he watched a cloud float by. "I almost feel like we should bring the bugger back something."

Rose took him by the arm. "We'll detour to the toy store along the way."

"What do you even get for a self-contained mobile life support system . . ."

"Well, he really seemed to be enjoying the tea party, so you can run with that . . ."

Their voices faded out as they moved further away from the TARDIS. Behind them the stick rested placidly against the door, seemingly quite content with proving every possible law of inertia.

"Oh, so some kind of doll, you're thinking . . ."

And then, silently, one light started to blink on the staff. Faintly and slowly, but gradually gathering speed.

". . . I mean, we could get him a truck but we don't know if it's a boy or girl Dalek . . ."

Faster and faster. Another light joined it. Then another.

". . . I don't know if that kind of thing really applies . . ."

Until the whole apparatus was lit up, mini-fireworks running up and down the length of it in a rapid cycle.

". . . it's probably one of those times when you've just got to let yourself be surprised . . ."

Over and over in multicolored brilliance, pulsing to a song no one could hear.

". . . I'd just prefer to know if it's going to be a good surprise . . ."

A squirrel came down from the tree, sniffed it with a twitching nose.

". . . or a bloody awful one . . ."

A rounded shadow suddenly covered the squirrel, and it took off like a shot.

---

Stanley was still hanging out near the shed when Julie-Ann found it. The eyestalk swiveled to watch her walk over and without a word plop herself down on the grass right next to it. The eyestalk did its best to look straight down but she was too close and too little for it to get a decent view of her.

Julie-Ann drew her knees up to her chest. "Stanley, did you know those people?"

"The-tall-one-called-him-self-the-Doc-tor-and-the-girl-i-dent-i-fied-her-self-as-Rose-"

"No," she said, slapping him on the shell. "Did you know who they were, before today?"

The Dalek eyestalk turned this way and that, perhaps thinking, perhaps seeing if anyone else was around. "I-can-not-say-they-are-fa-mil-iar-to-me."

"Well, good, because they seem pretty dumb." She rested her chin on her legs, staring intently at nothing in particular. "You wouldn't leave with them, would you?"

The eyestalk spun back to face her so rapidly that it could only be construed as a Dalek version of surprise. "Why-would-you-in-quire-that? They-are-still-stran-gers-and-we-were-told-not-to-go-with-stran-gers."

"I know that," Julie-Ann said, with some exasperation. "But . . . I heard them talking and the man said he wants to take you away."

"Where-would-he-take-me?"

"Away. Somewhere. I don't know. He didn't say." Angrily she plucked at the grass within reach, pulling up a few strands and crumpling them in her hands. "But he was yelling at my mom and my dad and they were talking about you and . . . I don't like them." She flung the crushed grass as far as she could, which being that she was small and it was grass, wasn't very far.

"Per-haps-he-wish-es-to-take-us-some-where-fun. We-have-al-ways-wan-ted-to-view-the-zoo. May-be-he-is-from-there."

"I don't think that was it, Stanley," Julie-Ann said with a giggle. "Besides, Mom and Dad already said we were going to go for my birthday."

"Will-I-be-able-to-a-ttend-as-well?"

"Sure!" Julie-Ann said brightly. "Why wouldn't you be able to come?"

"I-would-like-to-see-an-arm-a-dill-o."

The little girl giggled. "That's silly. Why them?"

"Be-cause-I-saw-on-tee-vee-that-they-curl-into-lit-tle-balls. And-the-name-is-fun-to-vo-cal-ize."

Julie-Ann laughed and rocked back on her rear, resting her back against the shed. "There's better animals than that, Stanley! Like tigers! Or panda bears!"

"They-do-not-pos-sess-fun-names."

"Oh, you're being silly." She leaned up against the Dalek. "You just want to argue."

"Arm-a-dill-o. Arm-a-dill-o," Stanley half-chanted, its plunger arm going up and down as it did so.

Julie-Ann covered her mouth to hide the laugh. "Stanley, that's not funny . . ."

"Arm-a-dill-o. Arm-a-dill-o."

This time she couldn't help it and doubled over, her arms over her stomach, nearly falling forward. "Oh." She held that position for a few seconds, like she was ready to go try and stand on her head. Then she settled back, sitting crosslegged.

She looked up at Stanley, who was still trying its best to see her properly from its angle. "Ha-ha-ha," it said, rotating its little weapon arm slightly.

Her face was very serious. "Promise me you won't ever go away, Stanley. That you won't ever leave. With anyone."

"I-do-not-wish-to-go-with-them. I-do-not-be-lieve-they-have-par-ties-or-toys-or-see-any-fun-pla-ces. I-want-to-stay-here."

"Come on, Stanley, promise!"

There was a long silence from the Dalek. Finally, the eyestalk pivoted until it was staring straight ahead. "What-is-a-prom-ise?"

Julie-Ann frowned. "It's when you tell someone that you care about that you're going to do something, no matter what."

"Like-when-you-prom-ise-your-mo-ther-that-you-will-clean-your-room?"

"No, that's different," Julie-Ann scolded sagely. "It never applies to chores." She folded her arms across her chest so she looked very proper. "You only say it for important things and only to your friends because once you promise something you can't go back on it. It's, like, forever."

"And-you-want-me-to-prom-ise-I-will-nev-er-de-part?"

"Yeah." She leaned forward so that her hair covered her face.

"Then-it-is-prom-ised."

"Yay!" Julie-Ann suddenly sprang up and wrapped her arms around the Dalek's base. "Thank you, Stanley! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Well, hello there!" came the sudden distant shout.

Julie-Ann turned and Stanley pivoted to see the Doctor coming around the house, walking toward them with long, purposeful strides. He reached them in a matter of seconds, a cheery smile plastered all over his face.

"Aw, it seems like we have quite the party going on over here." He stopped a foot or so from them, bending a bit at the waist so he could look down at Julie-Ann. "Room for one more at the table?"

Julie-Ann merely glared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she leapt to her feet and took two steps past the Doctor.

Just before she went away completely, she turned back toward the Dalek. "Remember, Stanley, you promised!"

Then, with her head down, she ran past the Doctor as fast as she could.

"That's one way to make room," the Doctor muttered, watching her go without expression. After she had gone back in the house he turned back toward Stanley, positioning himself right in front of the Dalek and bending over so that the eyestalk was level with his face and inches from it.

"I-have-made-a-prom-ise," Stanley informed him.

"Well, yes," the Doctor murmured. "But what kind, exactly?"

---

Rose came back in the front door to find Brenda sitting at the kitchen table, staring absently into space. She was holding in both hands a still steaming cup of what looked to be either coffee or tea. There was a certain bowed tension to her body, not so much buckling under the weight as the realization that the weight had been there all along, a pressure that you couldn't easily forget once it had been sensed. Rose knew the feeling, her life could be easily divided into two periods, before and after the man with the crew cut and leather jacket had pushed her out of the building right before he blew it up. And although it hadn't occurred to her then, there was no turning back. She could again never be the person who didn't know that things like TARDISes and Daleks and time vortices existed. Not that she wanted to, but it was a little sad to know that she'd never be able to return to that wonderfully oblivious state of ignorance.

Brenda appeared to be just hitting it now, and Rose didn't envy her one bit. Even if it was better to know, that didn't make it easier.

Coming over to the table, Rose put both her hands on it and leaned forward slightly. "Look, I'm sorry about what my friend said before." Brenda didn't even look over to her. "He's a great person but he tends to get a little . . . intense over some things."

This time Brenda did turn to her and Rose could see that her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. "Oh," she said in a voice both distant and misdirected, "I just put on a fresh pot of tea. Would you like a cup?"

Rose slid the chair out and sat down, putting one hand over the woman's. "I know this all seems really weird . . . but it's going to turn out okay. Julie-Ann is going to be just fine."

Brenda closed her eyes briefly and swallowed, the muscles tightening on her face like a sharp object had become caught in her throat. Staring out past Rose again, and probably through the wall, she said hoarsely, "Is it true what your friend said about . . . Stanley?"

This was definitely not a conversation Rose wanted to have but without the Doctor about it was going to be up to her. "About what he is . . . yeah. He's a Dalek. There is . . . or was, a whole bunch of things that look just like him."

Brenda drew her shoulders in close and shivered. "I just keep thinking about what your friend said about them. About all the death and destruction they caused. And the look in his eyes when he said it. His whole face . . . like he'd seen something so terrible that he would do anything to keep it from happening again." She blinking, bringing herself back and seemingly not finding herself all that impressed with the view. Focusing again on Rose, she asked, "Is it true, then? Everything that he said?"

Rose almost gave her a pat, generic answer, something nice about how it didn't matter, because it would all turn out for the best. But all the echoed screams from all the lower floors of the satellite wouldn't let her. "They've hurt a lot of people, his race. It's what they do. And if you beat them they just figure out a way to get better so they can go back to killing things again. So when he finds them, it's . . . it's like nothing else matters to him. He gave up something precious to himself to make sure they wouldn't succeed, because the alternative was a lot of death." I'm going to change, and you're not going to see me again. Not like this, not with this daft old face. "There are times when I think he's spent his whole life fighting them."

"And he thinks Stanley is . . ."

"He's not sure . . ." At least I don't think he is. "But given what he's seen before, given what they can do . . . I don't think he wants to take the risk."

Brenda lifted the cup up but stopped inches from her lips. Her lower lip quivered, a vibration that spread to her entire face. And then with a clatter she put the cup back on the table and covered her face with both hands.

"Hey, hey, it's all right . . ." Rose said, putting a hand on the woman's shoulder and finding herself startled to feel how violently it was shaking.

"I can't stop him, can I?" Brenda whispered. Rose would have shaken her head, if she thought the woman would be able to see it. "Whatever he's going to do . . . what will he do?"

"The best thing he can think of," was all Rose could think to say.

"He'll take Stanley away, won't he?" Brenda took her hands away from her pale and drawn face, fixing on Rose with an intensity that demanded nothing but total honesty. "He said as much. But will he kill him? Keep him caged? What is he going to do?"

Rose opened her mouth but no sound came out for a few seconds. "I . . . I don't know. I really don't." The Doctor had never struck her as cold blooded but this was Daleks. She couldn't rightfully say how this would turn out.

Brenda frowned and wiped at her eyes with one hand, two quick flicks of the thumb. "When he first came here, we used to keep him locked in the dining room, with one of those baby barriers in the entryway. He hated it, he'd push against it until we yelled at him to stop and then he'd hide in the corner and cry for hours." She threaded her fingers together, twisted her wedding ring back and forth. "I thought it was he just liked to roam around. Until one time, a few months back, Julie got sick. A little touch of the flu but she had to stay in bed and we didn't want anyone to get near her. So we closed her door and told him to stay out, because she needed to rest. And he'd sit outside her door and he'd cry a little bit but he'd never try to get in. I don't think he wanted to get yelled at again.

"After a while he went downstairs, back into the dining room. He found the record player that used to be Julie's, when she was a toddler. She never talked but we found that she liked music, she loved dancing to it. So we'd play it for hours, because it felt like the only real way we could communicate with our daughter. I don't know if she ever played it around Stanley, she was always talking to him so I never thought she would.

"But I heard the music coming from upstairs and I thought she had gotten up and started playing. I didn't want her to get up, the last time I had seen her she was still pretty . . . so I ran up the stairs, ready to tell her to get back to bed.

"And that's when I found Stanley in the hallway. Somehow he had dragged the record player up to just outside her door and was playing one of the records while spinning around and waving his arms."

Rose found herself grinning. "Dancing?"

Brenda smiled. "Yeah. Trying to. He wouldn't stop, it was like if we weren't going to let him go in then he was going to find another way. And that wasn't the . . ." her face crinkled again, but the pieces of it refused to break. "There was another sound over the music that I could hear. It was . . . it was laughter. My daughter, she was laughing through the door. Maybe she could hear the music or maybe he had told her what he was doing or maybe it was something else entirely but . . . it was just something I can't forget, this metal robot thing dancing to an old nursery rhyme and Julie-Ann, laughing at something she couldn't possibly see."

Brenda laughed again but it was quiet and somber and almost had no place within the confines of her story. And the gaze she settled on Rose said all the rest. "If your friend is going to take him, if I let this happen . . . he needs to explain to Stanley exactly what he's doing and why. If he's going to do anything, he needs to look Stanley directly in the eye and tell him why this is happening." She took a single, deft sip of her tea. "I won't allow anything less."
Rose was almost about to answer when the back door clattered open and a small shape ran past, zipping by without looking up or even saying a word. Footsteps were heard on the stairs a few seconds later, ascending quickly.

"Although maybe first before you tell him," Brenda added, raising an eyebrow, "maybe one of you two should go explain things to her."

---

"So, hey . . . Stanley is it now?" The Doctor crouched down, placing one hand in the grass to brace himself. "I don't think we've been properly introduced yet." He held out the other hand, wrapping the fingers around the little plunger arm, wigging it up and down. "I'm the Doctor and I'm told it's very nice to meet you."

He watched the Dalek carefully to see any sign of recognition, a stiffening of the arm, a twitch of the eyestalk, even a howled en-em-y-of-the-Dal-eks but there was nothing. The Dalek continued to regard him placidly.

"Are-you-go-ing-to-take-my-temp-er-a-ture?" the Dalek asked.

"Take your . . . oh no, why would I do a thing like that? You don't strike me as someone's who sick." The Doctor craned his neck around the Dalek, trying to get a better sense of it. Parts of it were oddly sparkly, as if someone had once covered the shell in glitter.

"Be-cause-I-am-told-that-this-is-a-func-tion-of-a-doc-tor."

"Well, doctors do try to make people better but you seem pretty good here, Stanley old boy." The Doctor smacked the side of the shell and stood up straight, rocking back on his heels. "But maybe you can answer me a few questions while we're both out here. Because I'm very curious about you."

"Is-this-a-test?"

The Doctor shrugged, tipping his head to the side. "Kind of . . . a bit of a pass-fail thing, really. It won't count toward your final grade though, if that's what you're asking."

"Will-I-get-cot-ton-can-dy-if-I-pass?" The Dalek twitched at the mention of this, the plunger arm going in and out.

"Of course you will," the Doctor replied in his best small child voice. In a single motion he threw his coat back and plopped himself down on the grass, sitting crosslegged. "Now, Stanley, if I can call you that . . . what exactly brings you here?"

"I-sprayed-peo-ple-with-wa-ter-and-I-was-not-sup-posed-to-do-that-so-now-I-am-be-ing-pun-ished." The eyestalk began to droop as it spoke and the Doctor got up on his knees and propped the little protrusion up.

"No, no, no, don't be sad, you'll get to go back inside soon. I promise." The Doctor sat back flat-footed, wondering when he became a therapist. "But I didn't mean here as now, but here as in . . . this house. This place."

"I-am-here-be-cause-of-Ju-lie-Ann. We-play-to-get-her. Some-times-we-dance."

"Right, right, very nice, that's very lovely." The Doctor folded his hands together and tapped at his chin. "But where were you before you came here? I mean, you obviously weren't born here, so you had to arrive from another place. What place was that?"

"Julie-Ann-says-I-come-from-a-lol-ly-pop-king-dom." The Dalek looked up, like it was about to break out into song.

"Julie-Ann's grasp of cartography may not be the most reliable," the Doctor noted to himself. "But, no . . . okay, you decided to stay here. That's lovely, brilliant. But this couldn't have been your destination, right? You were here for a reason. Just passing through, looking for good real estate prices . . . what is it?" He leaned in a little, but all he saw was his own reflection on the Dalek's shell.

"I-do-not-un-der-stand. This-is-my-home-it-is-where-we-live. Why-would-I-ev-er-be-some-where-else?"

"Because, Stanley . . ." the Doctor sputtered, finally reaching exasperation, "and I really didn't want to be the one to have to point this out to you . . ." he leapt to his feet, putting one arm around the Dalek and stretching out his other arm to indicate the rest of the backyards within view. "But if you haven't noticed, you're just a little bit different from everyone else around here." Slowly he let his gaze drift back to regard the eyestalk. "And that, my boy, is no accident."

"Do-ra-says-we-should-cel-e-brate-our-diff-er-en-ces," the Dalek chimed back, the eyestalk going up and down like it was nodding.

The Doctor did his best to hide a confused stare. "Who the devil is . . . never mind." Recovering, he slid around the Dalek, keeping one arm wrapped around it. "See, I understand your strategy here . . . strange world, the old plans aren't working, so you've got to try something different. You're tired of failing, I get that. With your track record I'd feel the same way."

"I-think-I-can!" Stanley piped up, trying to poke the Doctor with the plunger arm. The Doctor darted out of the way, his face still cheerful but a deadly seriousness starting to creep into his eyes.

"That's right. That's what you chaps are all about." His hands in his pockets and his back arching backwards, he regarded Stanley sternly. "So you decided to be a little different this time. You decided to hide in plain sight, blend in with the locals and seem non-threatening." He bent forward and stalked around the Dalek, taking long steps. Stanley attempted to follow him without moving, the eyestalk swiveling around three hundred and sixty degrees. "That way you could do whatever you wanted and nobody would be the wiser." He stood directly behind the Dalek and clasped his hands behind his back. "You would have all the time in the world." The eyestalk was staring him directly in the face. "So what are you, actually? Point-man, scout? Or just a distraction while the real army gets its act together."

"I-am-Stan-ley."

"Stop playing games with me!" the Doctor snarled through gritted teeth, standing up straight and lightly smacking the Dalek on the side of the doom. "You were never shy about your plans before, even when they were a secret . . . now that it's not you have no reason to hide it. So go on, go ahead . . . gloat. Tell me about the perfection of the Dalek species. Tell me how I am incapable of stopping your brilliant scheme. Go on and tell me how I'm going to be bloody exterminated! Tell me about all the things that I hear about every time I run into you lot." He pointed a stiff finger at the Dalek. "And do you know why I keep hearing it? Because I stop it, every single time. It's what I've always done. So, please, before I stop you again, try to tell me something I haven't heard before. Try to ask me something new for once." He slouched back, his stance indicating an eagerness to await a question he had already heard.

The Dalek stared at him for a few seconds, the eyestalk going up and down slowly, as if analyzing him for the first time. Then it pivoted back to the front and the entire Dalek whirled around so it was technically "facing" him.

"Are-you-heav-y?" it asked.

"Right, just like I . . . what?" He shook his head, rerunning the last sentence through his brain. "What did you just ask?"

"In-the-terr-i-tor-y-known-as-the-park-there-is-a-slan-ted-plane-Jul-ie-Ann-calls-a-see-saw. She-likes-to-go-on-be-cause-it-a-llows-her-to-a-scend-and-de-scend. But-I-can-not-be-cause-no-one-is-heav-y-e-nough-to-lift-me. And-I-would-like-to-have-fun-on-it."

"Well, I don't think I'm nearly heavy enough to lift you into the air. At least not in this body . . ."

"I-have-an-a-lyed-your-weight-based-on-your-di-men-sions-and-you-are-"

"Oi!" the Doctor shouted, cutting off the Dalek. "Let's not make this more personal than it is already, right?" He pulled in his coat a bit tighter, suddenly self-conscious. "But . . . a see-saw? That's a mite strange now, isn't it?"

"It-is-the-one-act-iv-it-y-I-would-like-to-do-be-fore-you-take-me-a-way."

"Well, I guess it's . . ." the Doctor had turned sideways by the time the Dalek's words sunk in. He glanced at Stanley, the wind gently rustling his hair. "Take you away," he said, finally, flatly.

"Is-that-not-your-plan?"

"Who told you that?" the Doctor asked sharply, suddenly on the defensive and carefully eyeing the weapon arm.

"Julie-Ann-has-an-a-lyzed-your-in-ten-tions-"

"She hasn't analyzed anything," the Doctor retorted. "She overheard. She doesn't analyze anything beyond what color candies are the best . . . because she's a child! And you aren't . . . you're a Dalek!"

"And-that-means-I-have-to-go-a-way?"

"No, it means you shouldn't have been here in the first place! Not in this house, not on this planet, not anywhere!" He rounded on the Dalek, so angry that he didn't even notice Stanley backing away. "I've seen your plans sink to certain depths over the years but I never thought you'd go this low. A child? A child? Again?" There were barbs in his voice and momentum in his stance. A few steps forward matched by a gentle nervous glide back. "I have watched you destroy far too many lives over the years but if you think for a second that I will let you cause any harm to that girl, you are sadly mistaken."

"No-no-no." The Dalek was almost stammering. "She-is-my-friend-she-"

"Remember the last girl? On Totters Lane? Hooked her up to your big bad Battle Computer . . ." he waved his hands in the air in a mock frightened fashion, continuing to crowd the Dalek. His expression darkened. "I blew up your planet that time. It's just ash now, floating in space. Forever. Because you crossed that line." He clenched a fist, his voice the only sound that the backyard could properly hold. "No children. Not a single one. Not this time, not ever. Do you hear me? Your plan is over! I've stopped it, it's done."

The Dalek tried to touch his two arms together but one was far too short. He was backing away frantically now, pitching and bobbing on the uneven grass.

"But you don't even care, do you? It's all just setbacks to you in the grand scheme, isn't it? That's how you lot always are." He shook his head, disgusted. "I had the chance to kill you all, do you know that? Right at the beginnings of your miserable existences, I had the chance, I held the wires in my hand that would have kept you all from being born." The Doctor was towering over Stanley, his face contorted with a rage that perhaps been suppressed for longer than he realized.

"But I didn't, because I had convinced myself that keeping you around would have led to better things, galactic peace, a unified enemy, everything that history suggested to me meant that things turned out okay. And I'm a Time Lord, history is my map . . . so I looked at the big picture. And made the decision to let you all exist." His eyes narrowed. "But there are times when I sorely regret making that decision. Like now. Like when I look at that child and think how much it's going to hurt her, to find out just what you are."

"No-no-no-no-no . . ."

"And if I thought there was any sense of decency in you, I would think that a part of you would feel ashamed at having stooped so low to do this, but that emotion doesn't exist in you, does it?" The Dalek may have shaken his eyestalk from side to side, but it was probably just looking for a way out. "It's been burned out of you, like every other emotion that ever meant anything . . ."

"Please-I-just-want-to-play-with-"

"Stop pretending!" the Doctor shouted at it. "Did you hear me? It's over! You don't have to act anymore like you ever gave a damn about-"

bang

Stanley, not able to see where it was going, crashed hard into a young tree, barely out of the sapling years. The Dalek wobbled hard but managed to stay upright while the tree shook mightily, as if having been grasped firmly by a strong wind. There were several scattered plops as objects rained down in the midst of the chaos. A handful of birds fluttered away, chirping wildly.

His anger interrupted, the Doctor just stood there, a few feet from the Dalek, hands clenched loosely at his sides and breathing heavily.

"I won't," he said, was all he could get out. The quiet was the sound of settling leaves. "I just won't."

The two of them regarded each other silently for maybe half a minute, the situation balanced so delicately that neither one of them was capable of making a move.

Suddenly the Dalek's eyestalk began to swivel about, like it was searching for something.

"Nobody's coming," the Doctor breathed. "It's just you and me here."

The Dalek looked to its left, seemingly intensely focused on that area of the yard.

"No reinforcements, no back up plans. You're trapped with the person you're taught to fear and hate the most. What are you going to do now?" He began to reach inside his coat. "The next move is yours. What's it going to be?"

Stanley suddenly pivoted its whole body to the left as well, darting around the tree.

The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Oh-no," Stanley said. "Oh-no-no-no." The Dalek hadn't gone far, but the Doctor could see it was looking straight down.

He came up behind it, looking puzzled. "What are you-"

And that's when he heard it.

The tiny constant peeping.

"Oh-no," Stanley said again, his plunger arm extending toward the ground as long as it could go. "Wait. Do-not-cry. Wait."

Stanley was speaking to a pale and naked and tiny form lying spread-eagled in the grass. Blind eyes kept looking for a familiar shape in the dark while the beak kept emitting the sad and panicked chirping sound. Little arms that would eventually grow into wings merely pushed against the grass, hardly having the strength to bend it.

The Doctor saw what the Dalek was trying to do and put a hand out to try and stop it. "Hey, wait, you have to be careful with-"

"It-has-fall-en. I-made-it-fall. Please-do-not-cry. I-will-re-turn-you." Gently the plunger arm grabbed the baby bird, which only began to chirp faster and louder, ascending into higher pitches as the Dalek lifted it off the grass and into the air.

Stanley looked up and attempted to extend his plunger arm toward the higher branches. The Doctor studied the canopy above and thought he saw a rounded collection of branches and twigs that was probably a nest high above them.

Too high above, as they both found out a second later.

"Oh-no," Stanley said again. Its arm was not long enough to reach, stopping over a foot short of where they thought the nest might be. Nestled in its arm, the bird kept chirping faster and faster. "My-arm-can-not-reach. I-can-not-re-turn-it. Oh-no. What-do-I-do?" The eyestalk swung back to regard the Doctor. "I-re-qui-re-ord-ers-what-do-I-do?"

The Doctor held out a hand to placate the Dalek. not even understanding why he was doing it. "Now, just take it easy, you don't need to-"

"I-can-not-reach." Its voice kept ascending into upper electronic registers. "My-arm-is-not-long-e-nough-I-can-not-reach. What-do-I-do?" Eyestalk still facing the Doctor, it backed a few inches toward him. "You-are-a-doc-tor. You-make-things-bet-ter."

The Doctor backed away as well, not sure what he was seeing or hearing. "I'm not that kind of doctor. And you're . . ."

The bird kept peeping louder and louder, a Morse code that only knew one terrible letter.

"You-have-sta-ted-that-you-are-a-doc-tor. You-need-to-make-this-bet-ter! You-need-to-fix-this! This-is-your-du-ty." The eyestalk rotated back toward the front of it. "No-no-no. Do-not-cry-we-will-re-pair-this We-will-get-you-back.."
"And you . . . actually care. About this," the Doctor murmured, hardly hearing or believing himself. He watched the Dalek for what felt like a long time. "What are you?"

"He-is-a-doc-tor-and-he-will-"

His expression changed, became firmly set, and he seemed to come to a decision.

"Yes." The Doctor suddenly stepped forward. Forward and around the Dalek. "Here." Gently he took the bird from the Dalek's arm, cradling it in his own hands. The pitch of its chirping did not change in the slightest. "We can fix this," he said, looking at the Dalek and then squinting up into the branches. "It appears that what we needed the whole time . . ."

---

He walked around the tree, holding the bird close to his chest. Finally his mouth opened in a little "Ah" sound and he tucked the bird inside his front shirt pocket.

". . . was simply a different way of looking at things." And with a cheeky grin he grasped a low hanging branch and began to climb back up to the nest.

It was a tingle in the air that was the first sign. Nothing concrete, of course, it wasn't necessary. Like the first breathe of an inheld scream, the first split second when the air hisses between your teeth and you're caught in that endless moment when you'll have no idea if you'll even have time to make a sound.

There are few things that can frighten the world. What it cannot defeat, it absorbs, what it cannot absorb, it crushes and crumbles, what it cannot crumble it outlasts. The world does not stop, not for anything. The planet will always turn, the wind will always rustle and whisper, the trees will spread their leaves in achingly slow splendor. Volcanoes may burst into thunderous elegant violence, ash may choke the air, lightning may split and raze forests, gouges can be scrawled into the landscape by any number of forces. But the world keeps going, caught in a paced race that never stumbles or stalls.

But there are moments, times, segments when the wind ceases its invisible shivering, when the birds hold still in their leaf-bound kingdoms, when flies fail to buzz, when flowers turn inward, when clouds compress and the rain holds back, for its own safety.

When silence reigns for absence.

When three shadows glide down a suburban street both oblivious and frozen into fright.

Because the world cannot stop and the world cannot hide.

"Ren-e-gade-de-tect-ed. Ren-e-gade-de-tect-ed."

And despite all the horror it has witnessed, there are still some sights that can make it want to turn its face away.

"Co-menc-ing-re-triev-al. All-life-forms-in-vic-ini-ty-con-sid-er-ed-ex-pend-ab-le!"

Because it can't bear to see the shadows grow nearer, and darker.

---

The door was closed but Rose was past caring about stuff like that. The Doctor had taught her that closed doors were merely invitations while open doors were merely too obvious. If we take all the easy routes, she could hear him saying, we'll barely see a tenth of what's out there. She couldn't remember which Doctor it was that had said that, the two of them were starting to blur together now after so long. Two different faces. One that had danced for her, and one that she had never asked. Was it important to remember the differences when they were the same man? Rose didn't really have an answer for it and it didn't seem like the kind of thing you wrote about to the local advice column. The only recourse would be to get used to it.

"Hello? Julie-Ann?" She knocked lightly on the door but waited for all of two seconds before opening it. In the movies you tended to find the window open and all the curtains stitched together to form a rope leading outside. Fortunately for once her life decided to not follow a cliché and the little girl was merely sitting on her bed, looking both serious and dejected.

"Hey." The girl didn't even look up, focused more on the little floppy brown doll she was holding. It had a sewn on smiley face made of yarn and a dapper little suit, its whole demeanor the complete opposite of hers. "How's everything going?"

I don't know why I expected her to talk to me. As Rose came closer to the bed, Julie-Ann did look up, her brow furrowing slightly and a wispy frown evident on her face.

"You don't say much, do you?" Rose slid onto the bed, and the kid dutifully scooted aside to give her room. "That's fine, I never did when I was a kid either. My mum used to do all the talking for me . . . for everyone, really." She laughed and she thought for a moment a smile twitched at one corner of the kid's face. "I didn't learn how to get a word in edgewise until I was about twelve years old. I thought a conversation was when you just nodded or shook your head so the other person could keep going." She folded her hands together and put them in her lap. "She hasn't changed at all, actually, it doesn't matter who she runs into, everyone gets the same treatment." Rose nudged Julie-Ann, who was now listening intently but gave no sign she was about to respond. "My friend out there, he's faced all kinds of scary things and he's never even flinched. Not for a second. But my mum, she can make him speechless. Absolutely speechless." She leaned in a little closer to the girl. "Don't ever tell him I said this because he'll get mad but . . . it's pretty funny to watch."

The girl bounced on the bed lightly, her fingers caressing the very proper suit of her doll, thumbs directly in the stomach.

Rose met Julie-Ann's gaze directly. "Why don't you talk to your mum or dad?" she asked softly. She half expected the question to send the kid running from the room but instead she just studied Rose, eyes narrowed slightly. I feel like a glass slide underneath a microscope, she thought. Julie-Ann frowned a little deeper, but did nothing else.

"There were times when I didn't want to talk to my mother . . . people fight, they get mad and you really . . . you don't want to talk. And if you care about the other person you forgive them and start talking again." Rose smiled and brushed at her hair. "My mum used to signal a truce by making chocolate chip cookies. My grandmum's, she'd tell me. Only she didn't know the recipe real well and would use like too much baking soda. So they'd get real flat. But she'd leave them on the table . . . that was her way of telling me she was ready to stop arguing. And I'd go over and sit there and eat one . . . only one, because they were a mite tough to chew, mind you. Then my mum would come in and say, 'That looks like it needs a glass of milk to go with it.' She'd get one for both of us and we'd sit there and eat her terrible cookies and start talking again." Rose rubbed at her palm, briefly lost in memories. "I miss her quite a lot, sometimes. Most of the time."

She turned back to Julie-Ann, who had followed the whole brief story with the same studied intensity that had dominated her expression throughout the whole conversation.

"But you're not mad at your mum and dad, are you? That's not the reason." Absently she brushed some hair off the girl's forehead. "What is it, love?"

Julie-Ann blinked but remained silent. It wasn't even that she was refusing to communicate through speaking, it was that she wasn't trying to communicate through other means. Rose had seen other kids not talk, but had tried to write things out or use gestures or find some method, because everyone wanted to be understood, she had found. From aliens to people to super-intelligent computers, the whole point of being alive and intelligent was trying to find other people to talk to. To make them understand you, or figure out what made them tick. And this made no sense.

"Did something happen to you?" Rose asked, thinking that maybe the right question hadn't been asked. But that was a foolish thought, to believe that two frantic parents trying to get even a single word out of their daughter hadn't managed to hit upon the right combination of phrases that would unlock her silence. "Did you see something that scared you so much that you just didn't want to talk?" But she didn't seem traumatized, although that didn't mean her parents weren't hiding some event in their past that could tie this all together. The Doctor tended to pick up on that kind of thing, however.

"You'll talk to Stanley, though, won't you?" She expected a little smile or even acknowledgement but other than a flash of quickened intensity in her eyes, there was no real reaction. "He's your best friend. I talked to my best friend most of the time, too. But not just her, though." Rose settled back on the bed, crossed her legs. "Jenny Galimphe knows more of my secrets than anyone in this galaxy." She stared up at an angle and smile wistfully before glancing down at Julie-Ann. "Now that's someone I sometimes wish could never talk again." The girl bounced a little on the bed, the doll standing up in her lap.

"If I asked Stanley why you don't talk, do you think he would tell me?" Rose bent over to gauge the girl's reaction to that but it didn't seem to faze her. Rose smiled again. "Hm. You're right, I don't think he realizes that you only talk to him. He's very silly, isn't he?" Across the room was a piece of paper tacked to a corkboard with a family scribbled on it in crayon, a purple mum and dad, a pink little girl and a black oblong dome shaped thing, with a smiley face on it. "I've met people like him before, you know, and they're not silly at all. But Stanley is. Do you know why?" Still nothing. Dammit. What was the point of doing all this?

"I think you do, honey." A bit more forceful this time, getting down to eye level with the kid and leaning forward so that their faces were almost touching. Julie-Ann never flinched. Are you playing with fire here, Rose Tyler? "Because he's not supposed to act this silly. My friend thinks that Stanley is just pretending, but why would he do that? But if he's not pretending then . . . well, that's what we're trying to understand. Can you help us?" No reaction again besides studied attention. There was no blankness there, the child was definitely listening. No shouting behind her eyes, either. The silence was saying everything she needed it to say.

"Please?" It had always worked when she was a kid. The magic words.

Julie-Ann only looked up at her and tilted her head to the side slightly, as if considering what not to say next.

Then she held up her well dressed small doll, with its chubby smiling face staring right at Rose. Her thumbs were around the stomach of it, pressing in slowly.

"What?" Rose asked, trying not to sound desperate. Was this a breakthrough? "I don't know what you're trying to tell me. Is this about Stanley?"

The doll hovered in front of her face, adorable button eyes saying just as little as the girl did.

Suddenly Rose was faced with too many answers to all the wrong questions. "What is Stanley? What exactly is-"

"Just what the canister says he is." Rose whirled to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, with that maddening I've just saved the day posture he had, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the doorframe like he was just getting around to tell you all this now, like it wasn't any kind of big deal. Times like that, she always wanted to hit him.

"He's definitely a Dalek," the Doctor said. "And he's this little girl's best friend."

---

"The-ren-e-gade-has-been-i-so-la-ted. What-are-the-or-ders?"

" Ex-ter-min-a-tion."

"What-a-bout-those-he-has-come-in-to-con-tact-with?"

"No-know-ledge-of-this-must-e-scape. They-must-be-ex-ter-min-a-ted-al-so."

"And-if-that-means-to-tal-ex-ter-min-a-tion?"

"Then-it-is-nec-ess-ar-y. Co-mmence-op-er-a-tion."

"I-o-bey."

---

The Doctor uncrossed his legs and stepped further into the room. "As strange as this may sound, Stanley is being utterly sincere." He frowned and pulled at his shirt. "Especially when he squirted me with water. He's not faking any of this."

"How do you know?" Rose asked, getting to her feet. Julie-Ann was still holding her doll but was also watching the interchange intently. Rose wondered how much she really understood. When she was that age, adults talking just sounded like a lot of babbling about stuff she didn't care about.

His eyes searched the room. It was amazing the way he never seemed to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds and yet saw everything. Though it never helped when the TARDIS was caught in a time eddy and he wanted to stop splicing wires together so he could tell you about the history of Quiddos, the planet where they communicate via gentle and vigorous hugging.

"Let's just say there's some lengths that even Dalek actors wouldn't go," the Doctor noted. Rose noticed his hands were dirty and scratched. He drew up even with her. "Now, if you could give the lovely Julie-Ann and I a few moments alone here . . ."

Rose had travelled with him long enough to learn how to take hints. "Right," she responded, raising one eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, looking briefly confused.

"Nothing," Rose said with a smile. "I just haven't seen your 'problem saving face' in a while."

"Problem solving face? I do not have a . . . what do you mean by that? Wait . . ." But Rose was already out the door, giving a wave over her shoulder. He turned back to Julie-Ann. "What did she mean by that?" He sighed and shook his head. "If you ever start traveling, be sure to do it alone. Conversations with yourself are very underrated."

He crouched down at the edge of the bed. "But what I'd rather have right now is a conversation with you." He placed one hand on the mattress, pressing down lightly. The child didn't move but only stared back, as if engaging in a contest of wills where the rules hadn't exactly been thought out. "Specifically, about your pal Stanley." He shifted his posture so that one leg was flat on the floor and tucked under the other. "See, as Rose might have told you, he's what's known as a Dalek. And Daleks . . . aren't very nice." He held up a hand, seeing the child's eyebrows coming together. "Not Stanley, though, oh no. Stanley is a grade A-level friend. Capital chap, just capital. But he wasn't born that way. The way he is now, he didn't used to be liked that. Something happened to Stanley is make him much nicer." He craned his neck so that he was looking at the small girl almost sideways. "Do you know why that might be?"

Without waiting for the girl to answer, he leapt up so that his feet were under him and then stood up entirely. "See, I think you do. I think you do know something. Because I think Stanley was meant to be a forward invasion force, a scout . . . whatever you want to call it." Julie-Ann had kind of a quizzical look on her face, and the Doctor quickly amended his statement. "His friends had sent him ahead first, to see what kind of party they'd, ah, be rolling into. So Stanley had come here with the intent of doing all the fun things that Daleks do . . . and then he met you." The Doctor had put on his glasses to look down at the girl. "He materialized in the backyard where you were playing. By the time your parents ran outside, he was acting the way he does now. What happened out there, Julie-Ann? Can you tell me?"

The child didn't answer. The Doctor ripped his glasses off and kneeled down. He spoke softly and quickly. "Julie-Ann, you have to listen to me . . . the Daleks, they're bad, bad things. But Stanley isn't . . . he's nice. He's kind and fun and your best friend. I know this, I understand this. But something happened to make him like that. And you know, I know you do. And . . ." he glanced down and wiped at his forehead. "They took away everything that I ever cared about, everything that I might go back to and it's not enough for them. As long as they are any around, they'll do that to everyone. So if there's some kind of way that they can be stopped, that they won't do anything bad ever again . . . you've got to tell me, Julie-Ann. And not just for me, not just daffy old me with my goofy hair and funny way of talking . . . all those people that might someday get hurt, they deserve a chance to one day meet people who will have tea parties with them and eat cotton candy with and watch stars in the sky and have special secret jokes with and . . ." he trailed off, pressing his lips together tightly into a hard line. "Please," he said.

Julie-Ann said nothing and the Doctor bit his lip, shaking his head and staring at the floor, muttering to himself.

The girl watched him for a few moments, then slowly reached out to touch him on the shoulder.

"What?" he asked, stopping the phrase before it was finished as the girl held up her little doll in both hands.

Regarding him with a very serious expression, she squeezed the doll's stomach hard

"Hello!" it said brightly. "My name is Stanley!"

"Oh, that's lovely you named him after . . ." his eyes widened. "Wait. Wait a minute here. Wait wait wait wait wait!" He shifted so that he was perched on his knees, both hands on either side of the girl. "I didn't . . . not . . . I never . . ." his mouth opened in an "O" of surprise. "Oh my . . . wait." He closed his eyes tightly, his face growing taut.

Julie-Ann suddenly giggled.

The Doctor opened his eyes and grinned broadly. "Oh, I never would have . . . that's brilliant! That's astoundingly brilliant." He laughed joyously, picking up the child under the arms and spinning around the room with her. She was laughing too as they whirled about. "This is wonderful, just . . ." He looked over his shoulder and called out. "Rose! Brenda, Martin! All of you! Come up here now!"

Rose reached the doorway first. "What? What is it?"

The Doctor hoisted the girl up, pausing a second to let her parents come into the room. "This girl here, this fantastic little girl . . . I've figured it out! There's nothing wrong with her at all, she's-"

Just then, there was an explosion downstairs near the front door.

"What the hell?" Martin said, automatically going toward the source of it. But the Doctor reached over and dragged him into the room, almost throwing him to the floor in the process.

"Don't do anything," the Doctor said, putting Julie-Ann down. "Not until we know-"

Then the harsh voices came roaring up the stairs.

"There-is-no-e-scape-all-life-forms-in-vi-cin-ity-will-be-ex-ter-min-a-ted! Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!"

"Oh no," was all the Doctor said.

---

There was a brief minute where Rose thought that if they stayed quiet and didn't move, the Daleks might not go looking for them, might assume that there was no one in the house and just go on their way, back from wherever they had come from.

Then she saw the silhouettes hit the far wall, angled and slowly rising and she knew that was only a fond dream.

"Life-form-de-tec-ted! Life-form-de-tec-ted!"

"Everyone get in the room," the Doctor whispered intently. "Get inside and stay there and whatever you do, don't move. It's going to be okay, we're going to be fine." Brenda and Martin grabbed their daughter as Rose ushered them deeper into the room, pulling the covers off the bed and throwing it over their heads.

"We're going to play a little game," Brenda said, holding her daughter close. "We're going to hide in a little fort for a while and see how long we can stay quiet. Can you do that?" It was Martin who nodded his head instead of his child.

Rose crawled back over to the Doctor. "We start getting them out through the window?"

"Too risky. They might have someone posted outside." The Doctor never looked as frightening to her as when Daleks were involved. It was like he underwent another regeneration right in front of her, becoming some unrecognizable figure, seen through angular and grated sunlight, bright and blinding and capable of casting deep shadows all at once. The kind of light that formed knives, the type of motion that ended in everything extraneous being stripped away.

But the Daleks were not easily burned away, and no matter what pace you set, sometimes it seemed like they're only purpose in life was to catch up with you so they could run you down.

"Then I hope you've got a brilliant plan."

The first one had crested the top of the stairs, the multicolored glow underneath its body signaling that it had been levitating. Presumably Stanley had done the same thing but Rose couldn't remember ever seeing him use the stairs. It glided forward into the hallway, allowing the second and third Daleks room to enter.

"Life-forms-have-been-de-tec-ted-on-this-lev-el. Ass-ume-they-have-made-con-tact-and-ex-ter-min-ate-them-on-sight!" Rose had forgotten how Daleks had tended to shout everything at people, even when it didn't seem like anyone was really listening. Maybe they were all hard of hearing in those shells. Sure, joke, it'll make this somewhat less frightening.

"I-ob-ey," one of the Daleks said, gliding into a bedroom. "This-room-is-emp-ty," its voice howled out from inside.

"Con-tin-ue-search-ing!" the lead one ordered.

"Don't bother," the Doctor said, stepping out of Julie-Ann's bedroom. He was stretched to his full height, hands causally plunged into his pockets.

"This is your brilliant plan?" Rose hissed to him from just inside, but he didn't answer her. Though she had to admit, he did look fairly impressive. Almost . . . no, Rose Tyler, do not go there!

"You know who I am," he said, his voice flat and low and dangerous.

The lead Dalek's eyestalk swiveled toward him at the sound of his voice and seemed to do the Dalek version of a double take upon getting a good look at him.

"Oh, that's right, all kinds of alarm bells must be going off inside that casing now, eh?" The Doctor took a step forward into the hallway, idly shuffling his feet on the floor as he did so. "This is the kind of moment every Dalek hopes for but secretly wishes would never happen. And do you know why?" He smiled thinly, an expression that could force a slice in time itself. "Because no Dalek ever survives this moment."

"He-is-the-Doc-tor," one of the Daleks toward the rear stated.

"That-is-cor-rect," the lead one said. By this point the other Dalek had come out of the bedroom, doing the same sort of double take that would have been funny under any other circumstances.

"He-is-an-en-em-y-of-the-Dal-eks."

"Yes."

"What?" the Doctor asked. "Do we all need to start wearing name tags?"

"His-ex-ter-min-a-tion-is-a-pri-mar-y-ob-ject-ive."

"He-may-have-know-ledge-of-the-ren-e-gade. That-su-per-sedes-all-ob-ject-ives."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Renegade? What is this all about, then?"

"We-shall-ex-tract-the-know-ledge-from-him-and-then-ex-ter-min-ate-what-re-mains." That was the thing with Daleks, they rarely dwelled on an issue for too long. Rose admitted she could have used some of that decisiveness with Mickey. Figuring whether it was a pub night or a club night used to potentially take hours.

"Then-it-is-de-cid-ed." As one, the three Daleks began to move forward.

"Hold on." The Doctor cocked one eyebrow up. "Normally you're all a lot more talkative. Explaining your plans and everything."

"The-on-ly-plan-is-e-vent-u-al-ex-ter-min-a-tion! To-tal-ex-ter-min-a-tion!"

"Oh, we never get too far away from that, do we now?" He started to reach into his jacket pocket. He's going to seal the door shut with the screwdriver to buy us time. For some reason Rose couldn't let him do that. She couldn't let him be trapped out there with those monsters.

But a look from him stopped her cold. Trust me, it said.

"Do-not-move!" the lead Dalek screeched. From her vantage they were a glistening metallic armored wall constantly moving forward, some medieval version of spikes looming in to crush them. Behind her the family was perfectly still. Maybe someone was praying. It seemed like a proper response. "Do-not-move! You-will-be-quest-ioned!"

Three weapons were trained directly on him.

"I'll tell you whatever you want, just let everyone else go," the Doctor said evenly, hand still in his pocket.

"You-do-not-give-or-ders! You-will-give-us-the-re-quir-ed-in-for-mat-ion-and-then-sub-mit-your-self-for-ex-ter-min-a-tion."

"If you think I'm going to allow that-"

"This-is-an-ord-er! All-here-will-be-ex-ter-min-a-ted!"

The Doctor's lips twisted into a snarl. "And I said-"

"Hel-lo," a new Dalek voice said.

Three sets of eyestalks suddenly pivoted, facing the new shadow that was smoothly gliding up the stairs.

"Is-this-gath-er-ing-a-par-ty?" Stanley wriggled his plunger arm. "Do-you-have-any-cot-ton-can-dy?"

---

"I-dent-i-fy-your-self!" the lead Dalek screeched before anyone else could say anything.

"I-am-Stan-ley," Stanley said cheerfully, gliding forward like he was going to shake hands.

Rose looked over at the Doctor, assuming that this development was part of his plan, but the sudden bug-eyed look on his face suggested that this wasn't quite the case. At which point she stopped listening to the part of her that kept saying not to worry.

"Are-you-here-to-en-gage?" Stanley asked the other Daleks. By now the two in the rear had pivoted so that they were facing him, which also meant that their weapons were facing him as well. "Can-you-go-fast? Would-you-like-to-race?"

"Stanley," the Doctor said carefully, "I think it would be best right now if you turned around and went back outside."

"You-will-re-main-where-you-are!" The lead Dalek's eyestalk was facing Stanley but it kept its weapon trained on the Doctor. "You-are-the-ren-e-gade! You-have-not-fol-lowed-ord-ers!"

"Ord-ers?" Stanley questioned. His eyestalk shifted to take in all the Daleks that were in the hallway. "That-does-not-sound-fun. I-have-al-read-y-vac-cumed-the-car-pet-this-week."

"Those-were-not-your-ord-ers!" the Dalek shouted back. "You-are-to-fol-low-the-ord-ers-giv-en-for-your-mis-sion! You-have-not-fol-lowed-those-ord-ers."

"Ord-ers!" Stanley sang out, gliding rapidly left and right in the narrow confines of the hallway. "You-have-ord-ers! Arm-a-dill-o-ord-ers!"

"Do-not-mock-your-com-mands!" one of the other Daleks said, moving forward as if to push him.

A blast of water caught it right in the eyestalk, causing it to reel backwards, the eyestalk waving back and forth in an almost panicked fashion. "My-vis-ion-is-sog-gy-I-can-not-see!"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha," Stanley laughed, squirting it again in the body.

The Doctor had a look on his face like he had lost control of the situation entirely and had no idea how to capture the reins.

"You-are-not-act-ing-like-a-true-Dal-ek," the lead Dalek said, pushing its way past the other two in order to rest in front of Stanley.

The Doctor bent down, hands resting on his knees and whispered to Rose, "When I give the signal, herd everyone toward the back window." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Julie-Ann lift the blanket that was covering everyone, watching their conversation intently. The cloth draped over her head made her look like a tiny shepherd.

"Okay," Rose answered, wondering if the Doctor ever considered numbering their escape plans so he didn't have to explain them over and over again. They really boiled down to a few basic types. She inclined her head toward Stanley. "How are you going to get him over without them noticing?"

"How-do-Dal-eks-act?" Stanley asked. The three of them had reconfigured in front of him as a triangle, so that all their weapons could reach him. "Do-they-like-tea-par-ties-too?"

The Doctor's eyes become almost liquid, his expression barely changing and yet pulling into that drawn look that often made him look far too old for her liking. The meaning of it hit her instantly.

"Oh no," she said, barely hearing herself. "No, Doctor . . . no."

"You-are-no-long-er-a-Dal-ek. You-are-worse-than-a-ren-e-gade."

"Just take everyone out of here, Rose. Start tying the sheets and go out the window. I'll follow along in a minute. It's going to become messy." Rose's expression seemed to catch him then and if it were possible he looked even sadder. "Rose, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Do-you-find-ren-e-gades-in-the-zoo?"

"You can't let them do this," she hissed.

"And I can't let those people get slaughtered!" the Doctor snapped back and for the first time she saw how much this was weighing on him. "I am doing what I can here, Rose and that's why I need you to listen!"

"You-are-an-a-bom-i-na-tion!"

"That-is-a-fun-ny-word. Ha-ha-ha. A-bom-i-na-tion! Ha-ha!"

"Now, are you going to help me here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"And-you-will-be-ex-ter-min-a-ted!"

Rose held his gaze for as long as she could, her face set, but eventually just wiped at her eyes and nodded without saying a word, sliding back into the bedroom.

Out in the hallway, all three Daleks centered their weapons on Stanley.

"May-be-we-can-go-to-the-park. Do-you-like-see-saws-you-may-be-heav-y-e-nough-that-we-can-"

"EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"

"NO!" A sudden small bundle ran between the Doctor and Rose before either of them could react. "What are you doing, no!"

The Doctor figured out what was going on first. "Julie-Ann . . . come back!" he shouted, for the first time a sense of panic entering his voice.

Three sets of eyestalks swiveled to face her. She stood before them with all the height her tiny frame could conjure, hands on her hips. "Don't hurt him! Don't you dare!"

"I-dent-i-fy-your-self!" the lead Dalek squawked.

"That-is-Ju-lie-Ann," Stanley added helpfully. "She-is-my-best-friend."

"We-do-not-un-der-stand-the-con-cept," the Dalek said.

"She-told-me-what-a-prom-ise-was. I-made-a-prom-ise-to-nev-er-leave-her."

"I-rel-e-vant! Pro-ceed-with-ex-ter-min-a-tion!"

"No!" the Doctor shouted, rushing forward to scoop the child up. But he wouldn't make it in time.

"No!" Julie-Ann screamed, running closer to them. "Don't you see, you're just like him! You're just the same as him-"

The Doctor grabbed her and dragged her back toward the bedroom door, her screams muffled by his arms and her legs kicking against him. "Don't look," he whispered. "It'll be okay. Just don't look, Julie-Ann, just don't-"

"Doctor!" Rose called out. He stopped in mid-step, looking perplexed.

"Look." Rose pointed to the end of the hallway.

All four Daleks were standing there, same as before. But one notable thing hadn't happened.

No one had been exterminated.

A tense silence suffused the hallway, the rumbling second just before the bomb went off or the stilled shivers that settled in the moments afterwards.

None of the Daleks moved.

Then, one of them slowly turned and knocked its plunger arm into the one sitting next to it. The impact made a hollow donk noise.

"Hee-hee-hee," the Dalek who hit the other one said. It swung to make the same sound again. "You-sound-fun-ny."

"I-do-not," the lead Dalek protested. It also swung its arm to strike back, making a similar noise. "That-is-you."

"It-is-not!" Seconds later the hallway was filled with the donking sounds as the three Daleks kept hitting each other, forcing a cavalcade of bonking and insistences that they were not the cause of the bonking.

"I-can-not-reach!" the Dalek on the other end said, trying to swing its weapon arm at the other two. "This-is-not-good!"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha," said Stanley.

The Doctor was now holding Julie-Ann upright, his puzzled gaze slowly turning into a broad smile. Julie-Ann was already smiling, clapping her hands lightly.

Her parents came into the doorway as well. Martin smoothed his thinning hair down and said, "Does somebody want to explain to me what the hell just happened here?"

"Well," the Doctor said, bouncing the girl in his arms, "it looks to me as if this little darling here just saved the day."

---

"What I didn't realize at first and, ah, thanks very much . . ." the Doctor grinned as Brenda handed him a cup of tea. ". . . and this was probably because I had no real reason to look for it, but . . . your daughter is telepathic."

Martin raised his eyebrows. "My daughter?"

"The very one. Your pride and joy." He tilted his head to the side to indicate the little girl sitting at the table next to him, intently scribbling in a coloring book.

Martin wiped at his brow, trying to fit this all together. "So does mean she's like an alien or . . . or some kind of mutant."

"Oh, no," the Doctor responded. "She's a perfectly healthy and delightful little girl . . . her brain just developed a mite differently, is all." He put his tea cup down and partially closed one eye.

Julie-Ann looked over at him, covered her face with one hand and started giggling shyly.

"That's a girl," the Doctor said, ruffling her hair. Turning back to Martin and Brenda, he continued. "She never started talking because she learned how to speak through her mind, it was easier for her . . . it's much easier than actual speech. More honest, you don't have to interpret as much."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Brenda said.

The Doctor shrugged. "I've had some practice with it. Anyway, she never realized that no one else could hear what she was thinking at them and so just stopped responding to people because they never talked to her. Not in any way she was used to. Imagine shouting out into a dark sky filled with lights, and not getting any reaction. Eventually you'd just stop trying."

"But we were talking to her," Martin said.

"You were." The Doctor started moving his hands rapidly. "And I'm talking to you right now. But do you know what I'm saying?"

"Ah . . ." Martin's eyes narrowed as he tried to follow but after a minute he just shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't really understand . . ."

The Doctor pointed at him with both hands. "And that's it, right there. I was using sign language but you don't know it, it's not the way you normally talk. Julie-Ann could hear you and knew they were words but spoken words don't have the same meaning to her."

"She talked to Stanley, though," Brenda pointed out, stirring her tea.

"Ah, and see that's the trick. Stanley . . . well, my first assumption about him was right . . . he was part of an invasion force and just happened to land in your backyard. Where he ran into Julie-Ann. She must have read his mind and found that it was nothing she could understand . . . Dalek brains are quite different from human brains, both simpler and more complex, they're vicious and nasty but also rather clever." He rested one elbow on the table, leaning forward and pointing, "But confronted with it, Julie-Ann did what any small child would when faced with a thing she didn't understand." He grinned down at her. "She changed it into something she could understand."

Martin and Brenda exchanged looks. "I'm afraid you've lost us again, Doctor," Brenda said.

"She rewrote its brain!" the Doctor exclaimed, busting out a broad grin. "It was brilliant . . . she took the brain of one of the most unpleasant beings to ever grace the universe and turned it into a playmate. A rather good one too, he really is kind of fun when you get to know him." He folded his hands together, the smile still bursting on his face. "And now that you've seen what they're really like, you have to admit it's a definite improvement."

"Ah, yeah . . ." Martin said, casting an uneasy glance at the Doctor. "So when you say rewrote, that's nothing she can do to us, right?"

"Oh, no." The Doctor shook his head. "She doesn't get human brains at all, the wirings too hard for her to figure out, it'd be like someone trained in fixing hyperdrive engines trying to fix a car. You've got nothing to worry about." His chair scraped back as he stood up, reaching behind to put his on. "Although if I were any of her future boyfriends, I would definitely watch out. Up to you if you want to warn them." Slipping into his coat-sleeves, he said, "And with that it looks like I'll be on my way. Thanks for the tea, you brew a lovely cup."

Brenda blushed. "Thanks."

Martin stood up to shake the Doctor's hand. "So, what's going to happen to us now?"

"Oh, well . . ." The Doctor glanced up at the ceiling and then back down to Martin. "I imagine that's all up to you. You've got a lovely wife and a brilliant daughter . . . I can't see into the future but if you were to ask me I'd say you've got a wonderful life ahead for the three of you. All right?"

Martin studied the Doctor's face for a few moments and then broke into a smile of his own. "Yeah, I think we'll be all right. Thanks again, Doctor."

The Doctor only nodded, keeping the grin on his face until he turned away from the parents, who went back to paying attention to their child. Without a glance back he slipped toward the back door, opening it and stepping out onto the porch.

---

Rose was sitting on the steps, chin in her hands and watching the backyard.

The four Daleks were arranged in a loose circle, tossing a ball from one to the other apparently at random. Stanley appeared to be leading, since he was a bit more dexterous than the rest. When the Doctor walked out, he was holding the ball in one arm.

The Doctor nudged Rose with his foot. She stirred, as if daydreaming and looked up at him.

"Done babysitting?" he asked quietly.

Stanley tossed the ball to the nearest Dalek, who fumbled with it briefly, trying to maintain a grip on it.

Rose smiled up at him. "They are kind of cute."

The Dalek dropped the ball, one of the others glided after it trying to catch it before it bounced away.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha," said Stanley, and at least one other Dalek joined him.

"That they are." The Doctor stared out, considering. Finally, he reached a hand down to Rose and said, "But I think we'd best be on our way. You ready?"

Without a word, she let him help her up.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to the TARDIS, not for lack of things to say but simply because they were enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the streets, the soft rustle of the wind through the branches, the gentle skittering of dried fallen leaves on the sidewalk, the hushed sighs of clouds slipping by overhead. The Doctor walked in light steady steps, sometimes studying the sky intently, squinting almost directly into the sun, and other times appearing to be trying to decipher patterns in the concrete sidewalk.

It wasn't until they reached the TARDIS door that Rose spoke up. "So, Julie-Ann, what's going to happen to her?"

"Her? Oh, she'll grow up just fine," the Doctor said, fiddling about in his pocket for the door key. "She's not anyone famous or important to time . . . just a little girl, which is an important enough thing to her parents. They seem to be around as briefly as certain radioactive isotopes, so hopefully they'll enjoy it while they can."

"I mean, about the whole telepathy thing."

He shrugged. "Who knows? She's got a low level ability, that's why I didn't detect it at first. Wasn't really looking either, maybe I should start doing that regularly . . . nah. But the brain is like a muscle that way . . . she may use it a lot and keep it in shape, or let it go and wither. The choice is hers, really. It doesn't make your life any easier or harder . . . it's like an extra hand, if you don't know what to do with it all it does is get in the way. Unless you're Venusian, in which case it helps you get a more impressive bride. But that's Venus for you. Lovely place but awful strange customs."

Rose laughed, never sure if he was kidding when he talked about stuff like that. "And will she ever start talking again?"

He bit his lip. "Mm, I don't know. If she decides she wants to, I guess. But I imagine, like most things, it's only a matter of time." He unlocked the door and pushed the TARDIS door. "And speaking of time . . ." he grinned, "why don't we explore some more of it?"

Rose returned his grin and stepped through the door with him.

A few seconds later, the light on top of the police box began to flash and with a wheezing, groaning moan, it gradually faded out.

---

Martin looked out the back window, rubbing at his mustache. "Good thing they don't eat all that much."

Brenda came up behind him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I think they're rather darling, myself."

"You would." But it was said gently, with a smile. "This keeps up, we're going to need a bigger house eventually."

"That would be nice," Brenda said. Martin turned and she slid her arms around his neck, kissing him briefly. "But we'll figure it out. We always do."

"I know." He extricated himself with some reluctance. "I'm going upstairs to lay down for a bit, it's been a heck of a day. Call when you're starting dinner, I'll come down and help."

"You got it." With one last kiss they separated, leaving Brenda in the kitchen with Julie-Ann, who was still coloring in her books.

Brenda watched her for a minute without saying a word. Then, humming to herself, she walked over to the fridge and took out a bottle, pouring some of it into a glass.

"Here, I got you a glass of juice, honey," Brenda said, putting it down next to the girl, who didn't react. Suppressing a sigh, Brenda took the empty tea cup that the Doctor had left behind, bringing it over to the sink for washing.

"Thanks, Mom," Julie-Ann said.

The cup shattered against the floor. Brenda spun around, eyes wide, hands shaking ever so slightly.

Julie-Ann merely looked up at her mother and gave her a big smile before going back to coloring.

"Oh." Brenda covered her mouth with one hand and started to cry.

THE END

12/1-12/18/09

RP

MB