It was beautiful. A cold, clean, shining, heavenly beauty.

Kathryn could see them. Her energy view was working, showing her the Weeping Angels, the TARDIS, and her own body in third person. She was used to this, used to everything being shown in the four energy colors of blue sound, green heat, red light, purple mental. A novelty at first, soon commonplace and nearly dull. It had been her reality for the past four months. Kathryn had had no idea it could be like this.

Mist swirled around the Angels, a thick silver fleece that thinned and thickened as it spun. The Angels showed against the backdrop as what they were; Angels. They moved with a slowness that would have been excruciating had it not been so graceful. They danced among the twirling mist, sparks of all energies showering from them as they swayed.

And then there was her own body. Kathryn usually ignored her own character, was used to seeing herself as a constantly shifting and vaguely humanoid blob of limited Technicolor. But now! Oh, now she was changed! She could see the flecks dropping off of her, things that were like the sparks but so far from them. The silver floated about her, curling around and flowing into her body. It played with the other colors until the flecks on her started to sparkle.

Kathryn heard music too; music that came with the silver mist and had no words or name or instruments Kathryn had ever known, yet was so gorgeous Kathryn wanted to cry. A voice that was also a harp told her it was the song the vortex sang, the song of time and life and all that was amazing.

The Angels started to turn to her, to reach out. Join us, the harp sang. Dance with us among time and the stars. You are one of us, Kathryn. You belong with us. Sing! Sing our song and dance.

A harsh pounding broke into the paradise Kathryn was part of, shattering the tranquility. She inhaled deeply, finding herself turned around and looking at the Angels, who hadn't moved. She felt a severe sadness, nearly grief at the sudden lack of color in the tunnel and the stiffness of the Angels.

"Kathryn!"

Kathryn realized that the pounding was the Doctor inside the TARDIS. She'd forgotten about him.

"I'm alright Doctor!" she called out. "Your plan worked; you can come out."

The deadbolt came off the door and the Doctor stepped out, swiftly closing the door and locking it with his sonic. He had his own lantern and looked very worried and more than a little irritated.

"How long did you need?" he pressed, grabbing her shoulder. He almost looked like he wanted to hug her.

"Pardon?"

"It's been three minutes. You didn't need to wait that long."

Kathryn was surprised. "I couldn't have been that long."

"You were."

"Oh. Well, it—"

Kathryn stopped. She was going to tell the Doctor about what she'd seen, but the harps sang in her mind. Secret, secret, they played. One of us, one of us.

"It was…"

Kathryn realized the Doctor was still waiting and covered for herself. "It was probably your perspective," she said quickly. "Waiting for news always makes time seem to stretch."

The Doctor looked as though he didn't quite believe her and had proof of it. Instead he asked,

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You seem…preoccupied."

Kathryn shrugged. "It happens. I'm still turning all that language stuff I learned at Atlantis yesterday over in my head." As soon as she said it she knew it was a weak excuse. She went through a language series a day, with complete comprehension.

The Doctor let it slide. "Well then," he said, breathing out. "I guess it's onward then."

"Which way?" Kathryn asked, picking up her own lantern.

"I have no idea."

"Sounds like a plan. You lead."

The Doctor was worried.

He wasn't worried often, not really. He was always a little sad, always very curious, and always observing things and people and places. He had happy flashes, moments he had trained himself to grab and hold onto as long as they would last. Oh, and he was constantly hyped up on adrenaline to some extent. But worried? Less often.

Right now he was worried for all the right reasons. Something was wrong with Kathryn. He just didn't know what.

The Doctor could see the symptoms easily enough; for starters, she had lost track of time. That didn't usually happen, and in this instance she should have been less than a minute, twenty seconds tops. And then she'd started to say something, but changed her mind and tried to cover up for it. He knew he hadn't been wrong about how long she'd been out there. He was a Time Lord, for goodness sakes! They had instincts about this.

As the finishing touch, she had lied to him. She evaded questions sometimes, and never approached other topics, but never outright lied, especially not with something so easy to see through.

So what was wrong?

Kathryn followed the Doctor, weaving between the Angels. She could almost feel the sparks jumping off them, could nearly hear them begging to run the way she always did. Such incredible amounts of energy packed into single beings! It nearly outweighed her energy concentration. Release, release, the harps whispered. Wait, wait, they said. Soon, soon, they promised.

Kathryn could hardly wait.

"Ah-ha!" the Doctor said suddenly. "A sign. I like signs, helpful things."

Kathryn came to a stop next to him, looking at the carved sign hanging from the tunnel roof as the Doctor read aloud.

"Undercity of Boron: Mining Colony, 2 Kilometers straight ahead."

"Good, we're close." Kathryn looked at the Doctor. "Did you bring our shopping list?"

"Raiding," the Doctor reminded her. "I took inventory. Don't worry, I know what we're after."

"Couldn't you just tell me what to look for and we can split up? It'd go faster."

The Doctor knew it was an option, but didn't want Kathryn wandering about on her own, not right now. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what a self-insulating compartmentalized giptheorium thermos looks like?"

"Pardon?"

"Precisely."

"Fine then, show off," Kathryn teased. "Lead the way."

*Constructive criticism welcome, praise happily accepted, flames not wanted*