Chapter 2

1869

The Captain had been keeping his ear to the ground for months before anything remotely promising came along, he'd forgotten how superstitious this period of humanity was predisposed to be, the word alien was used liberally and often alluded to nothing more than paranoia or racism. He ignored the tip about Sneed and Company; after months chasing ghosts which turned out to be nothing but echoing winds, he'd been disinclined to waste an evening sulking about a funeral home. When he heard the explosion he knew he'd made a mistake, but by the time he'd arrived on the scene, there was nothing remaining but a square indent in the snow a few streets over. After weaselling suspect descriptions out of a Copper with charm and a flash of psychic paper, it was confirmed to him, a pretty blonde, a man with short hair and big ears- he'd missed them again.

The realisation struck home, and the Captain sank into a snowbank, allowing his cynicism to creep in. He'd imagined the reunion a thousand times, how elated they'd be to know he was alive, how sorry they'd be that they'd left him behind. Rose would cry, she'd stand there in that god-awful union jack top- as for some reason, in his head, she was always wearing that- and she would cry, cry as she smiled that tongue-in-cheek grin, and then she'd embrace him. All the while The Doctor would stand there, looking slightly awkward, the way he always does before he admits to being wrong, then he'd apologise for leaving, and Jack would forgive him, and then the tension would break, and he'd offer Jack a nod and a backhanded affection, and they'd laugh, and Jack would make a lewd remark about how they could both make their oversite up to him, and they'd go on, and he'd be home.

It was a pipe dream and he knew it.

It had sustained him well enough in the short term, but now it was time to reassert reality: They'd left him behind. They didn't look for him, they didn't spare him a thought, and yet here he was giving them every one of his.

Well, fuck'em.


1873

It had taken them several years to accept it, after all, excessive trauma has been known to stunt child development. Perhaps it was the emotional upheaval, perhaps it was the atmospheric shift, perhaps Elizabeth was simply a late bloomer. Yet as each year passed these theories became increasingly less likely, by the fourth they were nothing more than whispered hopes. The truth had to be accepted, Elizabeth wasn't ageing.

Her persistent youth had been a forgivable offence when she was merely eight, then nine, years old, yet still looking seven. At ten years it began to be a stretch of the imagination, and by the time Elizabeth's eleventh birthday came around- with the prospect of a puberty that wouldn't materialise hanging over their heads- moving became a necessity. America was the obvious choice, a land of fresh starts and few questions, it would be the easiest place to go unnoticed, and for an increasingly paranoid Katerina it was thus the best option. The four years of relative peace that the pair had experienced, far from dissuading Katerina's fears, had her convinced disaster was on the horizon. Now the added problem of Elizabeth's unwavering youth only further exacerbated her, for she was still processing what Elizabeth was yet to grasp, their lifespans were slowly being rendered woefully unequal.

Yet even the most fervent aspects of Katerina's paranoia did nothing to prepare her for the sheer suffering of the Trans-Atlantic crossing. After packing up their house and bidding a brief farewell to the comfort they so quickly forsook, the pair travelled up to Liverpool in a Stagecoach in hope of securing passage to the Americas from its docks. Katerina paid a man-servant, who had been under their employ since their arrival, to accompany them on the journey, knowing that it would be most unwise for a single woman and young child to travel such a distance unattended. However, for the voyage itself, the pair had no support, for this reason, Katerina sought out a missionary and his wife, who between them held the idea that they would bring God to the entirety of South America. The minister himself seemed a weak man, in both mind and body, but she hoped that his dog-collar might serve to ward off the passive sinners. Humanity it seemed, was better cowed by the phantom threat than the physical.

Katerina wasn't suited to seafaring, they were only two weeks into their twelve-week voyage and she had become so ill she'd been quarantined. There was no doctor on-board the ship, but one of the women had grown up the daughter of an apothecary and had offered her assistance, yet still, they were unsure whether the illness was a product of the motion, or illness from the water, food, or living conditions. Fear of the later was spreading like wildfire. This was why the minister and his wife had separated Elizabeth from the woman who'd raised her, and left her alone on deck, instructing her to keep out of the way. Children were known to die quicker than adults. Content with her own company, Elizabeth had scurried off to hide in the coils of rope and netting near the Captain's cabin, but as she slipped behind the tangled wall, she found her usual seat had been usurped.

There was a man lying, slumped against the coils, with a bottle of what was likely ale in his right hand. He was a broad, ugly looking figure, with dirty hair and dirty clothes, in that respect he was much like many the men aboard the ship. That said, there was something wrong with his face, Elizabeth couldn't tell, not with his head slumped into his chest the way it was, but something wasn't right. However, self-preservation cut across her curiosity and she began to back quietly away, smart enough to be very wary of all the men aboard the vessel. Especially drunk ones.

"D'ya think me, handsome girl?" Came a low drawl. Elizabeth started and turned in the direction of the voice.

The man had not moved from his slouched position, but now his eyes were open and trained upon her. With his head lifted Elizabeth could clearly see the disfigurement that had confused her only a moment ago, a ragged scar marred his face, reaching from his left cheekbone to his chin, slashing through his lips, twisting them, and raising the skin of his face. Elizabeth was struck dumb, wide-eyed at both the man's appearance and his address.

"D'ya not 'ear me, girl?"

Confused, Elizabeth defaulted to the words Katerina had been drilling into her head for nearly a month now.

"I'm not a girl." She said, scrunching up her brow and looking down at the man with as much confidence she could muster.

And it was true, she was not supposed to be a girl, it wasn't safe. Not in a place like this. Before they'd set out Katerina had cut her dirty blonde hair short and put her in some worn trousers.

"I'm drunk, girl, not blind o' dumb. You think 'cause you cut your 'air and put on some raggedy breaches I can't tell you're a little lady eh?"

Elizabeth bristled, feeling offended even though the man was right.

"What does it matter if I am a girl?" She said, with defensive petulance. The man smiled at her in return, stretching the scar on his face and showing his yellowed teeth. It was a dangerous, knowing smile, and it mocked her for her ignorance.

"You ain't got no father with you, 'ave you girl? No brother's neither? S'only you and that sick'un, who I doubt'll last the week." As he said this the man began to lean forward, smirking. Elizabeth clamped her jaw, and curled her fists, wanting to swing at him. He looked her up and down. "Well," he began again "it's a good job you ain't pretty". Then the man laughed and collapsed back into the ropes.

Elizabeth glared at him with such a fierce hatred it made her head begin to throb.

"No." She said.

"No what girl? No, your Ma ain't gonna die, that it?" He scoffed. "People die on boats girl, if she doesn't get better soon they'll chuck 'er in the sea for good measure."

He then picked up his bottle and took another swig. The boat hit a large wave and the deck rocked, causing some of the ale to spill. Elizabeth took a deep steadying breath. Beneath the salt, it smelled like damp, urine, and death.

"No, I don't think you're handsome." Said Elizabeth, her expression blank, her eyes spitting rage. "You're the ugliest fucker I ever met."

And she turned on her heels and stormed off, her footsteps echoing alongside the strong wind and the deep chuckles of the drunk behind her.


Several weeks passed and Katerina didn't get much better, yet she continued to cling to life, which was perhaps the most that could be hoped for. Elizabeth tried to keep mostly to herself, which was easy enough to do when most around you wouldn't have pissed on you if you were on fire. She'd spent most of her time attempting to avoid the missionary's wife, an excessively dull woman whose favourite past time was reassuring her that if Katerina died then Elizabeth could come and live with her and her husband. She seemed so gleeful at the prospect that Elizabeth sometimes wondered if the woman was not in fact poisoning Katerina so that she might abscond with her child. It was an ungenerous thought, the kind that she'd be scolded for if she ever spoke it aloud, but Elizabeth found she did not care about such a trivial thing as courtesy anymore; the years of comfort, that had allowed her to labour over the insignificant, were a thousand miles behind her. She had been reborn a cynic.

A relatively calm evening found Elizabeth up on the deck, coiled in her usual corner amongst the rope. She was drawing shapes in the dirt and feeling as content as was possible in her circumstances when she felt a hand grab her by the back of her top and haul her out of her den.

"Oi, Sammy! I've found 'un, this the right brat?" Yelled Elizabeth's captor, a thin young man, with a young face and weathered hands. At his cry, several other men approached, scrutinising Elizabeth, whilst she tried to struggle from his grip.

"Could be, not sure. They all look the same to me." Spoke another man, getting right up into her face.

"Ey, well throw 'er for good measure, less mouths ain't it." Said a dark-haired man to her left. As far as she could tell there were five men in total, perhaps a few more stood behind her, but her captors grip was rendering her immobile.

"Fuck that mate. I ain't throwing some random kid overboard without knowing they ain't the rat of some lad twice me size" Hissed her captor. At that comment, Elizabeth began to panic and struggle in earnest, only to be struck across the face by the scrawny captor.

"Yeh well, I ain't dying because some whore and her offspring brought disease on the ship with 'em." Spoke another man "Chuck the boy and be done with it, we'll get his Ma at dark."

The group began to drag Elizabeth towards the side of the vessel, whilst she kicked wildly in an attempt to get away. She managed to catch her captor in the groin, causing him to double and his grip on her to loosen. Seizing the opportunity, she made a dash for freedom across the deck, but once again she was grabbed by the scruff of her neck and turned back around. She threw her arms up in defence and launched untargeted swings at the man, in return, he delivered a swift blow to her face. She heard a crack, and waited for the pain, but none came, instead she heard a groan, and felt a few drops of a warm substance hit her face. She reopened her eyes, having closed them to brace against the blow, and was met with the sight of blood. It appeared that one of her punches had hit, for the man holding her was covered in blood, his face a mess, his eyes wide with shock, his friends silent. This shock however, did not last long, the man's eyes narrowed and he reached behind himself, bring forward a knife which he held to her throat. His entire body quivered with rage.

"I think I'll cut you a bit first." He spat "Let the sharks know where to feast."

Elizabeth closed her eyes once more, and waited for the pain. Instead, she heard footsteps.

"Fiddling with young boys Georgie." Came a gruff voice "Always knew you was a nonce." Elizabeth recognised the tone, and opened her eyes to see the drunk she'd insulted a fortnight earlier, approach. He came right up to the man he called Georgie, and leered at him. "Tell me, d'ya get 'em to fuck you?" He smirked. Georgie looked in equal parts angry and afraid.

"Leave this Flint, I ain't got a quarrel with you." Said Elizabeth's captor, Georgie.

"Now that's where you're wrong Laddie," Said the drunk, getting so far into the other man's face he was forced to release Elizabeth, who stood there frozen. "I always got quarrels with fuckers like you."

"Be sensible Flint, there's five of us and one o' you." Returned Georgie with a bravado it was clear he didn't feel.

"Ay, and which one of your mates is gonna try me first, eh?" Scoffed the drunk." You see I ain't got a problem with them, just you. So, they really got your back?"

Georgie looked around at his group of mates, who were now standing considerably further away than they had been two minutes prior. He reassessed.

"Hey, you want the lad, you 'ave him mate," Throwing Elizabeth towards the drunk, "but I wouldn't wet your cock there, you might die of consumption." He began to walk away, and once he was a safe distance, he turned back and pointed to Elizabeth. "He's a plague carrier that boy, and if any of us start dropping I'm coming for him, coming with twenty men."

Unbothered by the threat, the drunk smiled. "Ay coming with twenty men, that's right up your alley." He yelled, then dismissed Georgie and his gang with an obscene gesture.

He turned towards Elizabeth. "What then girly, no thank you?" He sneered.

Elizabeth said nothing.

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled "That was one hell of a punch you gave back then, not as scrawny as you look, ay lass?"

AN/ I got a review! Thank you so much it means the world. Hope you like this second part please do let me know. Sorry that it took so long, but that single review has honestly been my sole motivation to deliver this chapter despite a hectic schedule. So this, as you can see, is a flashback continuing from the end of the last chapter. There is more to come from the characters individually for the chapter or so, however, they will meet again sooner than one might think. Please review, follow and favourite, I need validation! Thank you