Author's Note: A spin-off from this story, We All Fall Down, featuring Hal and my original character Bethany, can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

An Unforgiving World

The Doctor glanced up at Vivien, taking in her pensive profile. Brow furrowing slightly, he stood up, scattering scrolls as he did so. Ignoring their disarray, he stretched his arms above his head, yawning theatrically. But still Vivien paid him no heed, almost absentmindedly pushing the damp hair out of her eyes, before gazing into the flickering flames with a frown.

He studied her for a moment, his ancient eyes becoming as distant as the stars. At heart she was still Vivien, but at the same time she wasn't. He missed the wide-eyed child with the tangled black hair, and he missed the woman she should have grown into. Sometimes it was like looking at a stranger, and other times she was still her; funny, fierce, and ever so slightly frightening.

"Earth to Vivien, Earth to Vivien," the Doctor intoned, striding over to her, his voice making her start violently.

"What the hell..." she began, before falling silent as he raised his eyebrows in expectation of more vitriol. She wasn't going to fall into that trap again. "Where are we?" she asked, changing tact. Whilst she'd been washing her hair, he'd parked the TARDIS, but where, she didn't know, and just now, she didn't particularly care. But she didn't want to pick another fight with him, so she struggled to stay civil instead.

"We're on Earth funnily enough," he replied, tugging at his earlobe. "But when or where, I don't really know."

Vivien made a face.

"I was going head up to the console room," the Doctor then said, eying her thoughtfully. "Wanna come? I'll let you loose on the levers."

She shook her head, turning back to face the fire.

The Doctor studied her again, resisting the urge to say, your loss then, before turning and leaving her to the silence of the library. Vivien watched him go, before getting up and going over to the chaise longue, curling up into a ball, trying to block out the darkness of her thoughts. But before long, the silence began to bore into her skull, its very emptiness a cacophony.

She lay there for a while, the fire long dead, leaving a chill that went deeper than the bones. A part of her wished for a blanket, another part wished for the Doctor, for his presence to chase away the encroaching darkness. But to admit her need of him would be admitting defeat. This was a battle she had to fight on her own. Running away with him had been a mistaken surrender, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. But she couldn't outrun what she had become, and she couldn't accept it either. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, falling into darkness, succumbing to slumber.

Drenched in its tarlike blood, the Doctor frantically worked over the creature, muttering manically, stay with me, stay with me, stay with me, scanning its mottled green body with his sonic. A tear leaked from its lizard-like eye, murky and opaque, rolling down its cheek and splashing onto the Doctor's suit. He leaned his forehead against its, whispering, it's alright, it's alright, you're safe now, safe as houses...

The Doctor had left Vivien slumbering in the library, draping his coat over her, before going for a wander. But a brief wander had become a bit of a trek, and somehow he'd swapped the warehouse for a street, then another, and another, until he'd found himself down a back alley, miles away from where he'd originally started, not quite sure how he'd reached such a conclusion.

The thought had left him scratching his head until he'd heard a weak chitter, the sound catching at his old hearts. That's when he'd found the creature, hidden behind some dumpsters, lying on its side, badly wounded, its breathing laboured and slow. It had obviously crawled away to die in some lonely desolate spot until he'd found it in all its bitter ignominy.

His head shot up as something clanged to the ground, swiftly followed by a rolling sound, a metal dustbin lid spinning to a halt in front of him, his gaze then crashing into the red-eyed one of the creature opposite. One ancient being looked upon another, all of time and space hanging in the balance between them, then the world tipped sideways onto its axis as an explosion rent existence in half, the Doctor flinging himself across the dying creature, trying to protect it from the blast with his body.

Coughing on the swirling dust and smoke, the Doctor looked up again, shielding his eyes with his arm, but the red-eyed creature was nowhere to be seen. The silence seemed to spin out into oblivion, before being shattered into a thousand fragments. Gunfire and screams drifted from the street further down, explosions renting existence in half over and over again, making him duck down. The ground began to shake, a dull droning drilling into his skull, making him hunch protectively over the creature, hearts cracking in his chest at seeing the light fading from its eyes.

Cradling it in his arms, he tried to support its head as it struggled to breathe. From somewhere nearby, a man screamed, the sky above the rooftops turning amber. Voice choked, the Doctor told the creature to go to sleep, to rest now. The sky then flashed silver, an odd electric thrum humming through the air, a woman crying out in pain, her agony echoing his own. The creature's gaze found his, holding it for a long moment, then its eyes fluttered shut, something like relief flickering across its face before it slipped away.

In the distance, there was the sound of skittering footsteps, then hissing, the guttural frequency switching between different pitches and paces. It was a language he didn't understand, and it was no longer being translated either, which meant something had happened to the TARDIS, and in turn, Vivien. The Doctor bowed his head, closing the creature's eyes with a shaking hand, his grief becoming eclipsed by the fear everything he cared about was in danger, when he was here, so far away, too far away...

"You Skitter lovin' son o' a bitch," a voice said in disgust. Jaw clenching, the Doctor raised his head, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Its owner, a middle-aged man in dirty double-denim, spat on the dead creature, making the Doctor start forwards, only to stop as the shotgun found his temple. "Don't move another muscle, or I'll blast your ass to kingdom come," the man growled, only for a bearded middle-aged man to burst through a fire exit behind them, a teenage boy hard on his heels, making the double-denimed man whirl around, aiming his shotgun at them instead.

"Whoa! It's just us, Tom and Hal Mason, remember!?" the boy snapped, holding his hands up in mock surrender. The double-denimed man hesitated, wrongfooted. Seeing his chance, the Doctor leapt to his feet, ready to run, only to falter as he found himself facing a row of guns and hostile faces.

"What's going on, Weaver?" the bearded man called Tom asked, his dark eyes darting between the Doctor and the others.

Dan Weaver, with his weather-beaten face, keen grey eyes and stubbled skin, advanced forwards, his rear guard following close behind, their guns still trained on the Doctor. The Doctor studied Weaver, taking in the camouflage patterned skip-hat and matching military fatigues, the long ash-grey hair tied back in a pony-tail, his gaze then flickering over Tom and his son instead, sizing them up, Tom, toweringly tall, looking like he'd slept under a bridge all night; Hal, the princeling with his jock good looks obviously not inherited from his homely looking sire. They were the weak points. They'd hesitated when the others hadn't, the only two who didn't have their guns trained on him.

"Found this beatnik here cradling a dying Skitter in his arms like it was his grandmother on her deathbed," Weaver explained, voice virulent with venom.

Tom and Hal looked at the Doctor in disbelief, both of them taking a step back as though he were contaminated.

Weaver jerked his head at the Doctor, who was still clutching his screwdriver. "Drop whatever you've got in your hand, son," he ordered.

The Doctor looked at his sonic, startled. He'd forgotten he was holding it. Gritting his teeth, he threw it to the ground, wherein Weaver aimed his rifle at it, making the Doctor spring forwards, only to leap backwards, arms flying up to his face as Weaver blasted it to pieces with bullets, the Doctor involuntarily shouting, "NO!"

Weaver ignored him, saying to Tom, "Never mind what's happening here. What's going down out there?"

"Mechs, front. The Colton Street barricade's down. Skitters too," Tom said quickly.

Weaver's face paled. Then he caught himself. "They're up to the Common. Both barricades there are gone," he said gruffly. "We're falling back. Back Bay is lost." Weaver then strode forwards, past Tom, calling over his shoulder to the rear guard to seize the Doctor.

Tom rushed to catch up with Weaver, falling into step with him as the Doctor was forced to follow at gunpoint, stumbling as a rifle butt made contact with the small of his back, his assailant spitting, "Put your hands behind your head, beatnik, where I can see 'em."

The Doctor did so, jaw tightening again, before taking one last regretful glance at the creature lying dead on the ground beside the remains of his sonic, earning him another blow, this time to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, body doubling up with pain. Hal frowned, looking like he was going to say something, only to think better of it, the double-denimed man then shoving the Doctor on, making him stumble.

From up ahead, Tom was talking, his voice low and urgent. "They take Back Bay, they take the city," he said, fists curling into balls at the thought. The enemy had already taken his wife and son from him, and now they were destroying what he had once called home.

"No kidding," Weaver said, darkly deadpan. He glanced over his shoulder again at the Doctor, face creasing with contempt, then confusion. Then he shook his head, dismissing the Doctor for the time being. "Porter's calling us in. Let's go."

Then the group faltered, gazes going skywards as an alien aircraft streaked through the night, emitting a silver ball of light which hit the horizon, exploding, the Doctor lunging forwards, yelling, Vivien! as the world turned violet, silver, indigo, the howl of the wind drowning out his screams.

Vivien woke up with a jolt, almost toppling over the side of the chaise longue. She lay there, heart thumping in her chest, the stars soaring above her, an illusion that never failed to deceive. Then she sat up, the Doctor's long brown coat slipping to the floor. Vivien stared at it, a lump forming in her throat. His concern was something he didn't always show, but she only had herself to blame for that, always keeping him at arm's length, never quite trusting him.

Swinging her legs over the side, she stood up, craning her neck as she scanned the library for him, just in case he was lurking in one of the aisles, lost in some obscure volume. But he was nowhere to be seen. This wasn't unusual in itself, but still she felt rattled for some unidentifiable reason. She tried to tell herself the Doctor was probably still pottering about in the console room or perhaps trapped in a toilet somewhere. That had happened a few times, too many times for her taste. It always took her at least a day to locate him, and she always had to pack a bag for the journey.

But some instinct warned her that he wasn't in the TARDIS, not anymore at least, and she set off at a run, becoming nothing more than a shadow cast by the stars above. Several minutes later, she stepped out from between the TARDIS's blue doors, her bare feet colliding with cold concrete. Searching the console room had led to her checking the monitor, and here she was, somewhere in South Boston, on the threshold of discovery, the Doctor briefly forgotten. She stood there for a moment, taking in her surroundings, the dark cobwebbed corners and shelves, the rafters soaring above her. It seemed to be some sort of abandoned warehouse, sacks and boxes stacked up in piles here and there, gathering dust.

Quietly closing the doors behind her, she turned her key in the Yale lock before slipping the silver chain over her head, the metal cold against her skin. Tucking it out of sight under her camisole, she stepped forwards, anticipation setting her indigo eyes alight with blue fire. Stepping into the unknown sustained her reckless soul, even if the unknown was nothing more than a deserted building. Who knew what would step forth from the darkness...

As though in response to her thoughts, the ground began to shake, making her stumble. Flinging her arms out to balance herself, she ran, teeth rattling in her skull. Throwing herself behind some shelves, she ducked down as a huge metal creature stomped into view, emanating a terrible droning sound that reminded her of air raid sirens. For a moment, Vivien was back in the Blitz with her drawn on seams and Victory Roll, London falling, falling... Then the illusion was destroyed by reality, the metal creature circling the TARDIS in a series of clanking sidesteps, its jutting head tilted to one side as it studied the blue box.

Vivien watched, heart in mouth. Then static exploded in her mind, making her body jerk violently like she'd been electrocuted. Flashes of high-pitched screeches and hisses punctuated the vacant buzz before suddenly falling silent. She fell forwards, slumping against the shelves. The sound of scuttling skittering feet filled the void, scaling the walls, crossing the ceiling, heading towards the TARDIS.

A distant explosion rocked the building, the static returning, becoming a scream, making Vivien want to tear the insides of her skull out. Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped again. Head still spinning, she took her chance, crawling behind a stack of crates, retreating further into the shadows, trying not to choke on the dust swirling through the air. The sound of skittering feet was accompanied by bangs and a dragging sound, and she realised with a sickening jolt they were taking the TARDIS away.

Then the static returned again, becoming a full blow storm, drowning out the outside world, making her clamp her hands over her ears. Clenching her teeth, she, tried to suffocate the screams crawling up her throat, her body contorting horribly with the effort. Then it suddenly fell silent in her head once more. She slumped forwards again, breath coming in huge rasps, fingers clutching the crates for support, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

Slowly, she turned around, only to see a creature watching her as though it knew her, the left hand side of its mottled green face distorted by vicious scars. They stared at each other, girl and monster, and then the creature jerked its head, as though to say go, now! Vivien staggered to her feet, somehow managing to drag herself past the creature and out of the warehouse, the journey a blur, her mind a kaleidoscope of confusion.

She crept along an alleyway, back pressed against the wall, ducking behind a dumpster as a beam of blindingly silver light sliced through the air, dividing the darkness. She waited until it was gone, then she started moving again, the uneven ground digging threateningly against the bare soles of her feet. Every step felt like a betrayal, abandoning the TARDIS to save her own sorry skin. But still she staggered on, falling further into an unforgiving world.

After several dead-ends, Vivien stumbled to a halt, ducking down behind an overturned car. In the distance, the skyline was alight with silver and amber flashes, explosions and gunfire making her ears ache. She unsteadily got to her feet again, before sprinting forwards, heading towards another alleyway opening further down. Then she heard it again, that sickening drone that made the pit of her stomach turn cold. The ground began to shake again as the sound of stomping metal feet drew closer.

Vivien hesitated, realising she wasn't going to make it to the alleyway, not without giving away her position. She cut her run short, hiding in a doorway instead, shrouding herself in shadow as a white searchlight scanned the street. She didn't move, keeping very still, hardly daring to breathe, closing her eyes as the metal creature moved on, its drone fading into the distance. Feeling like a fox on the hunting field, she counted to three, before exhaling sharply and making a bolt for it down the street, turning into the alleyway. She slumped against the wall, clutching her side, a stitch building, but she forced herself to move again.

Almost blindly she turned corner after corner, fleeing down alleyway after alleyway, sticking to the backstreets, ducking at the slightest shadow, flinching at the faintest noise. Her lungs were screaming at her to stop, but to stop meant being captured, killed even. Her main imperative was to survive, to evade the enemy. Head spinning, Vivien slowed to a halt as she hit a dead-end, the sound of engines overhead drawing closer.

Dead ends hide on every street
Look before you place your feet
Cracks and fissures keep the beat
And you're inside it...