Hello lovelys! Update here, as promised (though it is a couple hours late, if you really want to be picky about it).

Next update should be up on Saturday. Maybe Sunday. Not going to lie, most likely Sunday.

Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites! Keep them coming! They really make my day!

Beatrice and the Doctor were sitting in their closed off office. Beatrice was retelling her life story as if it were an old folk tale and they were sitting around a camp fire. The words came out hesitantly at first, as they always did when Beatrice had finally decided to trust someone with her life story, but they did come out. She talked about it at first with a caution that one would use to handle a new-born child. But as she told her story, the Doctor took in every word and clearly believed them all. But that wasn't what urged her to carry on.

It was the look the Doctor gave her that made Beatrice start to speak on with confidence and security. The Doctor looked at her in a way she had never been looked at before. He threw her looks every now and then at each point of the story, and Beatrice found herself comforted by it.

Every person Beatrice had ever told her story to gave her the worst look she could ever be given. It was a look of sympathy. Not the type that most people grieving would expect. No, this sympathy had nothing to do with the loss of her family. The looks of sympathy she usually got were directed more towards her 'insanity'. Or, as most doctors would say, her 'condition'. It was the look of sympathy for her believing that an angel had taken her sister. It was a look of sympathy that she was a complete nutter. But she never once got that look from the Doctor.

The look she got from the Doctor was entirely different. While, yes, there was an element of sympathy in the Doctor's look, it was never directed towards her mental state. The looks she got from the Doctor was of sympathy for her loss, an apology on behalf of the people who made her last eight years a living hell, and a long overdue look of respect for having made it this far.

Yes, the Doctor respected Beatrice. He respected her on so many levels. He respected her for being strong enough to live through the hell she'd been through. He respected her for her brightness. He respected her for her abnormalities. He respected her for her belief in her version of what happened. All those years of people planting seeds of doubt in her story, all those years of being told she was delusional, Beatrice never budged. She knew what she saw, and what she saw was a Weeping Angel take her sister.

So Beatrice told the Doctor everything.

She told him about her sister's disappearance, about the Angel that tried to kill her. She told him about her father, pouring his heart and soul into his work, waiting and praying for the opportunity to get away from the place where his little girl had disappeared, before packing his bags and leaving everything, car, house and family, behind. She told him about her mother, spending every waking moment looking for her youngest daughter. She told him about her mother's depression when her father disappeared, and she told him about her quick and short lived turn for the better, before she promised her a life away from this mess and then promptly disappeared forever, just like everyone else did.

The Doctor sat opposite Beatrice, nodding his head and taking in everything, trying to find the link between the three angel attacks. When she finished talking, he didn't dare say a word. She still looked so sad after having relived it all. He wasn't sure how long he was supposed to wait, or if he was supposed to check if she was alright. But, in the end, the Doctor was a child at heart and couldn't stand the long silence.

"I have to ask, sorry" The Doctor said in a gentle tone. "if your father was leaving you that day, why would he leave his car behind?"

"I… what?" Beatrice asked.

"Your father. You said your father left for work one day, but he never showed up and his car was in the driveway. Surely, if a man was going to leave his family behind he would take his car. It's a more convenient way of travel, plus if he really needed to, an alright place to sleep. Why would he leave that behind?"

"Well… He… he must have taken a train. Or bought an airplane ticket and took a taxi. Maybe he left the car for us-"

"Why would he leave the car for you?"

"Because… he loved us-"

"If he really loved you, he wouldn't have left by choice."

"By choice?"

"He never left you and your mother, Beatrice. He would never do that. He loved you both too much. The Weeping Angel is just as capable of taking your father as it is of taking your sister." Beatrice stared at the Doctor, the new possibilities sinking in.

"I never even considered that it took my father as well."

"And your mother?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you arrived home from school to find your mother had disappeared without a trace. No one saw her leave, no one saw her at all that day. She just… disappeared. Do you have any idea how difficult that is to do?"

"… The Angel took her too?"

"Yes. Your mother would never leave you on your own. She loved you too much. All she wanted was a better future for you."

"Why? Why would it take them? Why only them?"

"I don't know. I'm working on it."

"We all just wanted a better life, you know?" Beatrice continued. The Doctor let her talk, partly because it was good for her, and partly because she might say something that could piece this all together. "We were just like everyone else. We worked hard and we wanted to move forward. Even when Maya was gone, we wanted to keep moving forward." And that was it. that was what pieced it all together.

"Beatrice… say that again."

"What?"

"The thing! Maya was gone, but you still wanted to move on?"

"Well… yeah. When Maya disappeared we wanted to get out more than ever-"

"That's it!"

"What?"

"When Maya disappeared, you said your mum was getting ready for a social with your father. You said it was some sort of dinner or something, very important for your father's career right?"

"I... yes. He was after a promotion."

"A promotion that would earn him a job in central London."

"Yes. What does that have to do with-"

"Once Maya disappeared" the Doctor continued, even standing up from his chair, enthusiastically explaining his theory he was sure was right "Your father devoted his entire life to his work. He wanted to get away from the tragedy your family had faced, and work seemed to be his best option. He was now more than ever the best candidate for the job. That promotion was practically his."

"I… I guess-"

"And your mother. The day before she was taken, she promised a new life. She promised you two would leave that place and your memories behind and start over."

"Yes…" Beatrice still wasn't clear on where he was going with this.

"Don't you see, Beatrice?" The Doctor asked. "Every time you were close to leaving that house, every time there was a chance you'd leave, the Weeping Angel would come in and take out whatever was causing you to leave. "

"But why?"

"I don't know. You're important, though. You do something or you meet someone. It must be a fixed point in time. But why wouldn't… Weeping Angels love paradoxes… why wouldn't they… unless!"

"Unless… what?"

"Unless…whatever you do here that's so important, whoever you meet, whatever future altering thing you do is beneficial to the Angels! They want to make sure that what you achieve happens. And they'll stop whoever dares get in your way.

"First was your father's promotion. It had to stop that from happening, so it took your sister, thinking that your father would be too distraught to continue to work. Instead, it had the opposite effect. It caused your father to work even harder, and the promotion was practically his. So, the Angel had to take your father. Then, your mother. She promised a new place, a new life, and the Angel couldn't have that. So it took her too.

"That Angel wasn't trying to kill you. It was trying to keep you in that house."

"The clinic!" Beatrice exclaimed as she remembered.

"Sorry?"

"In the clinic, years ago, they were considering transferring me to a less intense facility near London. They thought I wasn't in as much need of their help as I used to be, and they wanted to move me. And I wanted it to, I wanted to get away from that town. They put me under observation for a night, and my hand turned to stone. I tried to get help, but they wouldn't listen to me. They just figured I was crazy and kept me locked up. Can it do that? Can a Weeping Angel turn my hand into stone?"

The Doctor stared at Beatrice, a look of horror and sympathy glued on his face.

"Yes" He answered barely above a whisper. "Under very particular circumstances, it can." And Beatrice knew that the tone in his voice could never be a good thing.

"…What particular circumstances?" she asked hesitantly.

"Beatrice, I need you to think" The Doctor grabbed hold of Beatrice's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "It's very important that you remember…" Beatrice looked back into his eyes and gave a small nod in understanding. "When you were young, when Maya was taken, you saw the Angel. It was in the house, you saw it and it saw you." Another small nod from Beatrice. "Where did you look?"

"I… what?"

"The Angel, when you stared at it, what did you focus on?" Beatrice hesitated. The question as odd, but she trusted the Doctor and thought back.

"The… the eyes." The Doctor let out an almost pained gasp. He closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. "I… I didn't really think about it at the time" Beatrice said, for some reason feeling the need to defend herself. "Its stare was just so… terrifying. I didn't know what else to look at. Why? Why is it so bad to look at its eyes?" The Doctor rubbed his face before running his hands through his hair.

"The eyes" the Doctor recited. "Not the windows to the soul, but the door."

Beatrice continued to stare at the Doctor. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but she knew she didn't like it.

"Beatrice…" the Doctor continued. "You have an Angel in your head."