The smoke hung thick on the air, black and smothering and dense enough to block all vision. From the moment the Doctor flung open the door it threatened to roil in, to blot out the world and suffocate them all, the smell of it enough to set Rory to coughing and waving his hands uselessly as he recoiled back into the TARDIS, dragging Amy with him.

This was wrong. This was so very wrong. The whir of the sonic screwdriver reinforcing the atmospheric shell against the smoke did nothing to block out the sounds of battle outside. He heard explosions-bad enough-but over that he could pick out two sounds that sent a chill through him, sent him scrambling back to the controls, his voice raised enough to be heard over the din, his command unusually abrupt, without a hint of his eccentricities.

"Close the doors! Now! Get inside, get away from the door, get back-we're leaving!"

Outside, the distinctive sound of beam disrupters lit the roiling clouds of smoke sickly blue. And he could hear their voices, mechanical and mad and single minded and familiar. . .

Exterminate!

"Close it!" He was stabbing at controls, flicking switches, pulling toggles. He had no idea what he'd landed in the middle of or why the TARDIS had brought him there, but he had no intention of staying. He didn't know the terrain. Didn't know where or when or why. He simply knew they were there and he didn't want to be. Not with the Ponds. Not on their extended honeymoon.

There were more sounds, now. The slap of boots on concrete, of coughing and running, and a very human, hoarse cry to wait.

She slid in like a runner taking home base, barreling past both Ponds feet first on the slick glass of the flooring, the squeak of rubber boot soles and leather and the drag of her palms against the floor as she flipped herself onto her stomach to look out of the door between the staring couple as they dematerialized from the scene of the battle.

The doors swung closed, and as they entered into the safety of the vortex she went boneless, the tension that sang through her muscles and urged her to run and keep running drained away. It was Amelia who spoke first, slapping Rory's arm as he stared at the slender blonde who had apparently decided that she was perfectly content to lay on the floor and catch her breath, cheek pressed to the cool glass and eyes closed.

"Oi! So who're you, then?" Amy's Scots brogue was pronounced, surprise and irritation coloring her words, hands planting on her hips as she looked from the girl on the floor to the uncharacteristically gobsmacked Doctor standing slack jawed. He visibly shook himself out of his stupor, coming around the consol to crouch, all knees and elbows, at arms length from the stranger.

"This, this is Jenny. My. . . daughter."

Without lifting herself from the floor the blonde raised a hand, fingers waggling in a wave in their direction, eyes still closed as her lips parted in a lunatic grin that had clearly passed on with his genetics.

"Hello!"

He knew his companion well enough to know the stunned silence wouldn't last long.