A/N: Yay, reviews! I must be doing something right :P

Response to Moonbeam141: Unfortunately, the Royal Diaries book for Anastasia isn't very accurate. It has led to a lot of mischaracterizations of her and her siblings. One of my motivations in writing this is how most Romanov-focused fiction isn't accurate/realistic to how they really were… My attempt is to stay true to the actual people, even while throwing a spaceship into the mix!

As for research, I did read a TON of books throughout the process of writing this story. This chapter is where the mixing of historical accounts of the Russian Revolution really comes in, so I'll list the most important sources I used:

The Fate of the Romanovs, by Greg King and Penny Wilson
Nicholas and Alexandra, by Robert K. Massie
The Real Tsaritsa, by Lili Dehn (available online at the Alexander Palace website)
Thirteen Years at the Russian Court, by Pierre Gilliard (also available on the AP site)
Memories of the Russian Court, by Anna Vyrubova (ditto)
And, of course, the Alexander Palace forums!

Chapter Four

Some things are…
Melting now.
Some things are melting now.
Well, hey-y-y-y
What's it gonna take 'til my baby's alright?
What's it gonna take 'til my baby's alright?
And Greg he writes letters with his birthday pen
Sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in…
 - Tori Amos, Pretty Good Year

"But they didn't shoot you," Amy said. The story was already so bizarre, however, that she second-guessed herself. "…Did they?"

"No," the Doctor replied.

"Even if he is the cause of all our problems, Yuri," the senior officer admonished, "Perhaps he can also be their solution."

Yuri turned to face his superior, but did not drop his weapon. "Sir, that's why I'm shooting him!" he stated. A few laughs could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You new recruits are all the same," the officer scoffed. "You think of killing as the only answer."

"What do you suggest, then?" Yuri asked, exasperated.

"Don't you think the Empress would be happy to know that her lover is still alive?" the officer asked.

"Sir?" Yuri replied, still confused.

"So happy that perhaps she would meet some demands in exchange for his safe return to her?"

Now that the officer's idea had been revealed, murmurs both of agreement and disgust circled through the crowd.

"But sir, then he gets all the power he had before!" Yuri reminded.

"Maybe. But we will have more power. With it, we will kill him when the time is right. And his German woman too!"

Now the revolutionaries were all cheering.

"Do not take your weapon off him, Yuri. We will lead him to the palace. Only shoot him if he attempts to run."

"I did not attempt to run," the Doctor stated, as if it wasn't the obvious choice. "And now I was being given an armed escort to the Alexander Palace! Is that success or what?" He looked dismayed when his audience didn't share his excitement. "Right… well, the Alexander Palace itself is outside of the capital city, in a place known as the Tsar's Village. Getting there by way of a revolutionary demonstration was quite time-consuming," he assured. "But at least I got to see all the sights. Russia on the cusp of revolution… it was glorious."

"Okay, this isn't the History Channel, get to it," Amy complained.

"Sorry," the Doctor apologized. "Anyway, the palace normally had a fair deal of security. In light of most of the soldiers joining the revolution, however, it was now just a few loyal regiments fighting off anyone who tried to get in."

As the Doctor was led through the icy, dark park, a shot was suddenly fired from the distance. No one was hit, but many of the revolutionaries scattered and ran. Those holding the Doctor at gunpoint, however, remained.

"It may not be up to you to shoot me if that keeps up," the Doctor commented to those around him.

Yuri tightened his grip on the Doctor's overcoat. "Oh it'll be up to me, alright," he said angrily.

"You are ordered to turn back!" a voice shouted from the direction the palace was in.

"We demand to see the Empress!" one of the revolutionaries yelled as a reply.

"No one is getting to the Empress or her children! Turn back, or we will open fire!"

The Doctor felt Yuri's pistol press against his back. "If we cannot see her, we will kill her greatest friend!" he shouted excitedly.

"Who do you speak of?" an inquiry arose.

"The Holy Devil Rasputin!" Yuri screamed, nearly deafening the Doctor with his fervor.

"Rasputin?" came the incredulous reply. It was followed by a wave of laughter and jeers by the palace guards. "You have brought a corpse to help your cause?" another shouted.

"The madman has returned from his grave to seek vengeance!" a revolutionary cried. "If the Empress does not meet our demands, she will never see him again!"

"Enough!" the response came. "We are sending a band of troops to dispose of you. Turn back now, or die for your cause!"

As the orders came, a shadowy mass became visible on the horizon, turning into individual figures with alarming speed.

"Sir…" Yuri began, his earlier zeal vanished. "There are more of them than I was expecting."

"Yes, Yuri…" the senior officer replied, his eyes on the rapidly advancing troops and their rifles. "I agree."

"For all the talk they'd done across those fifteen miles to the palace, they didn't end up being the best fighters once we got there," the Doctor narrated.

"Retreat!" the officer shouted. A further scattering of revolutionaries occurred.

"Sir, what about him?" Yuri asked, still gripping the Doctor's coat.

"Throw him to those pigs," the officer said before he turned and ran.

With a forceful thrust, Yuri let go of the Doctor, pushing him right into the hands of the approaching soldiers.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" the Doctor implored, holding his hands up in surrender as the loyalist troops surrounded him.

"You, your holiness," one of them chided, stepping up to him, "must be Rasputin."

"That's what they keep telling me," the Doctor answered. "I'm almost starting to believe it myself."

The detachment's leader approached, ready to arrest the Doctor and haul him away to the Peter and Paul Fortress. When he came within five feet of him, however, he suddenly stopped.

"What is it, sir?" another soldier asked, noting the general's silence. He was staring directly into the Doctor's eyes. "Take this man to the Empress. Immediately."

…

"I was brought into a guard's post of sorts, no glamorous reception by any means yet," the Doctor commented, smiling. "But I was going to meet Alexandra Feodorovna! The last Empress of Russia! One of history's most tragic figures!"

Amy leaned over to Rory. "I think he's about the only person I know who would be that giddy after walking fifteen miles with a gun against his back," she murmured.

…

After waiting for a while in the small room with sparse furniture, with nothing but silence between him and the guards, everyone suddenly sprang up to stand at attention. A tall, imposing woman, stern of features but graceful in dress and movement, entered the room: the Tsaritsa. After exchanging some hushed words with the general, she approached the Doctor, who was doing his best to stand calmly and hide his wonderment.

"So, this is the man those hooligans are claiming to be Rasputin," she commented.

"Your Majesty, I apologize-" the Doctor tried to explain. A guard silenced him before he could get out another word. The Empress held her cold gaze on him. No matter what the Doctor had read about her private struggles, poor health, and hysterical behavior as response to any threat, he genuinely felt intimidated by the woman. As she stared into his eyes, he expected to be thrown out onto the snow any minute; or worse, executed for treason.

"Thank you for bringing him to me," Alexandra addressed the guards without breaking her gaze on the Doctor. "You are dismissed."

"Your Majesty, are you sure…?" the general started.

"I will be fine, General Resin," the Empress assured him. "Now leave us, please."

Her posture remained rigid as every soldier in the detachment filed out. The Doctor wasn't quite sure what she would say to him once they all left. When the door closed behind them, however, he was shocked to see her fall to her knees.

"Empress!" he exclaimed, thinking she had fainted. "Are you-" He stopped, however, when he noticed she had taken his hand in hers and begun kissing it.

"Father Grigori, it is truly you!" she raved. "God has sent you back to us at our darkest hour!"

"Oh dear," the Doctor muttered. He took a deep breath. "Your Majesty… I'm sorry, but I am not Grigori Rasputin."

Alexandra rose to her feet, bearing a slightly wounded look. "But… your eyes," she protested. "They are exactly as his were. Deep, piercing… looking into those eyes, there is no question in my mind of whom they belong to."

"Really? Well, that's news to me," the Doctor said, using a nearby metallic surface as a makeshift mirror. "Perhaps, if Rasputin did have some sort of hypnotic power, it was through absorption of time energy…" He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. "Is there a rift anywhere around here, I wonder? Or perhaps where he was born?"

"Excuse me?" the Tsaritsa asked, bewildered.

"Oh, sorry. Nothing," the Doctor said as he put away his screwdriver and in its place produced a small paper bag from his coat pocket. "Jelly baby?"

Alexandra ignored the request. "Sir, if you are not Father Grigori, then who are you, and what are you doing in Tsarskoye Selo?"

"It was that crowd out there. They brought me from Petrograd," the Doctor explained. "Intended to use me as a bargaining chip for some demands."

Alexandra sighed visibly. "It's getting worse out there," she said. "How is it in the city?"

"Chaotic," the Doctor answered.

The Empress's face now carried something very fatalistic in its look. "All this starting from a bread riot." She looked over at the Doctor and snapped back to normality. "If you will excuse me, sir, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," the Doctor clarified. "Just call me the Doctor."

"Doctor?" Alexandra asked. "We already have two doctors here. Doctor who?"

"Oh believe me, it's unimportant," the Doctor answered.

"Yes… I suppose it is," the Empress commented, realizing something. "Come with me, Doctor."

The Doctor was surprised by the request. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty?"

Alexandra stopped; by this point she had reached the door. "You may not be Father Grigori, but God has certainly sent you," she said calmly. "Botkin has his hands full. I could use someone else to look over Anna and the children." She opened the door and walked through. Reluctantly, the Doctor followed.

"Your Majesty-" he started to protest. He lost his words, however, as the Empress led him through the heart of the palace. Each wall was lined with priceless paintings and handcrafted trinkets, while gleaming, oversized chandeliers hung above and carpets that cost more than the average house were unceremoniously walked on by the Empress. The Doctor forgot all other thoughts, realizing that soon this splendor would be purged from the country and gone forever.

"My children, along with my friend Ms. Vyrubova, are coming down with the measles," Alexandra explained as they walked through the seemingly unending corridors. "Dr. Botkin is our family physician, but so many patients to care for at once is exhausting, even if Dr. Derevenko and I are helping him. The cases are all so bad. Olga is losing her hair… Tatiana has gone deaf. Anastasia was fine, but she began coughing this morning."

They had reached a door at the end of a hallway. Although they had only gone up one flight of stairs, the Doctor noticed that the Tsaritsa was suddenly out of breath as she talked to him. Hesitantly, he held out a hand in case he would need to catch her if she lost her strength. The Doctor had heard that the Empress had suffered from either extremely poor health or deep-seated hypochondria all throughout her lifetime. Watching her struggle for breath, yet remain determined to care for her children, he wasn't sure which to believe. The Tsaritsa looked the Doctor in the eyes again, her haggard face full of worry. "Please just take a look at them," she begged.

The Doctor wasn't sure what he could do, but he figured that if he was at a loss for words, he could just concur with whatever the other doctors said, and then duck out. The toxicity of the city made him want to leave as soon as possible. "Alright, Your Majesty," he agreed.

…

"The first room we walked into was Alexei's," the Doctor narrated. "Luckily, I didn't have to do much, since his case was apparently the mildest of the children's."

"Alyosha!" The Empress exclaimed upon the sight of her son sitting up in bed. "Oh, my baby!" she said as she hugged him. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she felt the boy's forehead.

"Much better, Mama," the Tsarevitch answered.

"Oh, thank God," Alexandra said with relief, making the sign of the cross. "Alexei, I'd like you to meet a new doctor who has come to look at you and your sisters," she said, introducing the Doctor to the young boy.

"Your Imperial Highness," the Doctor bowed.

"A new doctor?" Alexei asked, obviously displeased. "But Mama, where is Derevenko?"

"He's attending to your sisters, Alexei," Alexandra answered. "I know it is… unusual for them to be more ill than you, but it is so, and Botkin and Derevenko have to watch over them as well."

"But no one's come to see me today," Alexei protested. "Not even Nastya."

"Anastasia is sick now, too," Alexandra explained. "You must pray for your sister that she gets better as quickly as you did. And once you've rested up and are on your feet, you can help your doctors care for her."

"Is Mashka sick?" Alexei asked. "When she kissed me good night yesterday, her skin was cold."

The Empress drew a sharp breath. It was obvious there was something she didn't want to tell her son. "Maria and I went out last night to say hello to our sailors," she said simply.

"Our sailors?" The boy asked, confused.

"Yes. They are guarding us here in the palace."

"What about the regular soldiers, the ones who are always there?" Alexei asked, reaching for a small Cossack figurine next to his bed.

"They're tired," was all Alexandra could reply. "Taking a break. And your sister and I couldn't resist going to see the sailors. We haven't gotten the chance to talk to them in so long."

"I want to see them too!" Alexei protested.

"Now, now, Alyosha, you don't want to get out of bed before you're all better," the Empress reminded.

"But I miss them. I miss the Standart," the boy whined.

"I know, Baby," Alexandra soothed, running her fingers through Alexei's hair. "But it's getting late. You need rest. Perhaps you can say hello to them tomorrow."

"Will they be doing maneuvers again then?" Alexei asked.

"Maneuvers?" Alexandra inquired, caught off guard.

"I hear lots of shots outside," Alexei answered. "Like the military maneuvers Papa and I watched at headquarters."

"Yes," Alexandra replied, her face barely concealing the nervous tone in her voice. "Well, Papa's coming home soon, so they're probably practicing for him."

"He is?" The young boy's face lit up.

"Yes, darling," the Empress answered. "He should be here tomorrow. Now go to sleep." She got up from his bedside to tuck the boy in. Alexei looked over at the Doctor, acknowledging him for the first time.

"You remind me of Father Grigori," the boy said.

…

As they left the room, Alexandra's spirits looked almost entirely restored.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor," she said cheerily.

The Doctor was confused. "Your Majesty, I didn't do anything…"

"He recognized you," she assured, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean, he saw your resemblance to Our Friend. The familiar face will calm him; he'll be totally well in no time at all."

"Your Majesty, I'm not sure if I am really doing that much," the Doctor protested. The extent of the woman's faith was starting to make him uneasy.

"Nonsense," Alexandra deflected. "You must look at the girls next. They are worse off, and more in need of reassurance."

"Well, if that's all you would like me to do…" the Doctor replied, realizing that the Empress didn't seem to expect him to do much in the way of medicine either. "If I could offer one medical opinion, however," he began. "Your Majesty, I believe the Tsarevitch was correct in saying that it was not wise to take a girl surrounded by measles patients out into that cold."

The Tsaritsa stopped walking and turned to face the Doctor in the middle of the hall. "Well, we didn't really do it for amusement," she confided. "Doctor, you've seen how it is in the city. Almost all of the soldiers have deserted and joined these riots. They have all of the Ministers in the Duma under their control now. We are the only ones left with any power," she said solemnly. "And even those who are supposed to defend us are leaving. The Navy and a few small regiments are all we have left."

"Against the entire city?" The Doctor asked in disbelief.

The Empress nodded, her expression betraying her internal panic. "And we were worried they might leave, too. So my daughter and I went out to plead with them," she explained. "Many of them used to serve us on our family's yacht, the Standart. We hoped that if we could get them to remember those happy times, before this terrible war, that they would consider it worthwhile to fight for us."

The Doctor realized in that moment that the Empress was far less naïve than he had thought.

"Please don't tell the children," Alexandra begged. "They don't need the worry."

…

Anastasia, who had been listening intently to the Doctor's story until this point, broke her silence. "I… never realized how much she did for us then," she said, reaching over to take a photograph of her mother off a shelf.

"Well, you can be excused over that matter," the Doctor said as she gazed reflectively at the picture. "You weren't really in a state to know anything that was going on."

Anastasia looked up at him, puzzled. "I was what?" she asked.

"Hang on, just getting to that bit," the Doctor ensured.

…

"I'll take you to the girls' sickroom now," the Empress said, movement restoring her composure. "Thankfully Maria is still well, but she is the only one." They reached the door and Alexandra put her hand on the knob to open it. "The other three are all here: Olga, Tatiana, and…" The Empress's voice trailed off as she looked into the room and saw an empty bed in the corner, its sheets strewn all across the floor. "ANASTASIA!" she bellowed.

Almost in response, a flustered woman ran up to them, but it was clear from Alexandra's expression that she wasn't Anastasia. "Lili, what's going on?" the Empress asked.

"Madame," said Lili, almost totally out of breath. "Come quick," she said, beckoning the Doctor and Alexandra to follow her.

They walked briskly down the hall and a flight of stairs, into a very purple and cluttered room where two teenage girls, one in a simple dress and the other in a nightgown, appeared to be engaged in some sort of wrestling.

"Girls, what is the meaning of this?" Alexandra demanded, flabbergasted by the sight.

"Mama, I can't make her stop," cried the fully-dressed girl, who was holding the other by the arm.

"I'll stop when you give it back!" the other girl cried savagely, struggling out of her sister's grasp. Barely visible through her wild, uncombed hair was her face, which was alarmingly red. Overwhelmed, the first girl was forced to let go, leading her banshee-like sister to begin carelessly rummaging through the nearest desk. She knocked letters, ink bottles, and even priceless Fabergé eggs to the floor in her wake.

"Anastasia! What on Earth are you doing?" Alexandra demanded with alarm.

"Looking for my doll!" the banshee girl shouted back, as if it was obvious. "She hid it!"

"Mashka? Our angel?" Alexandra asked. "Now why would she do such a thing? And your only concern right now should be returning to your bed, young lady."

"Mama," said Maria, who was now crouching down to salvage the objects her sister had thrown, "I did hide her doll."

"Maria, why ever would you?" Alexandra asked, puzzled.

"When I was seven." Maria finished.

Alexandra sighed. "It's the fever," she realized. "She's come down with it much faster than I expected she would. She's delirious." The Empress cautiously approached her wild daughter as she wrenched with all her might at a desk drawer.

"She put a doll in there herself, Mama," Maria explained. "I followed her to get her back in bed, and she went crazy. I'm usually stronger than her, but…"

"It's all right, dear," Alexandra said, reassuring both daughters. She stroked Anastasia's hair, simultaneously calming her down and attempting to tame her locks. "Doctor, help me get her back to bed," Alexandra called.

Maria eyed the Doctor curiously as he walked across the room. "We have a new doctor?" she asked.

"Temporarily, yes," Alexandra answered as she guided her dazed daughter out of the room.

"Hello," the Doctor gave a wave as he steadied Anastasia on their way past.

…

"And that was how we met!" the Doctor concluded with a triumphant smile. Instead of commentaries or questions, however, the room was silent.

"I… did that?" Anastasia said finally. "That was your first impression of me?"

"And a bang-up one at that," the Doctor assured. "The famous Grand Duchess Anastasia, delirious with fever, destroying her mother's study, and thinking she was five years old again. Wonderful."

Anastasia sunk her head down as she sat in her chair. "Mama must have wanted to kill me," she said bashfully.

The Doctor scoffed. "Come on, I don't think it was that bad."

…

"I could kill that child!" Alexandra exclaimed as they exited the sickroom. "Not only does she endanger her health getting out of bed like that, but she destroys my room, and makes the most awful scene! I'm terribly sorry you had to witness that, Doctor."

"It's quite alright, Your Majesty," the Doctor answered. "She couldn't have known what she was doing."

Alexandra nodded, then gasped as she looked at her watch. "Goodness, it's late!" she said. "We must get you a room ready for the night."

"Empress, that's really not necessary," the Doctor protested. "I should be going."

Alexandra gave him a look of disbelief. "Going where?" she asked. "The trains aren't running. Another blizzard is on its way. Even if you got to Petrograd, there's no telling what those rioters who brought you here would do if they saw you again."

The Doctor paused. The Empress, of course, couldn't know that he had a ship waiting for him that could whisk him light years away from the turmoil she was trapped in. However, she was right about the difficulties in getting back to where he'd left it. The TARDIS wouldn't be noticed for however long it would sit there, he was sure – so he decided it was best to wait for a more opportune moment to leave. "You're right," he said. "I suppose I will stay."

.

A/N: To avoid confusion – because a friend of mine once had trouble reading something of mine because of this – "Empress" and "Tsaritsa" are interchangeable. So is "Tsarina," which, although more popular, is actually just the Italian translation of the Russian "Tsaritsa" which has somehow found its way into English. I try to use Tsaritsa, but I apologize if I ever slip here or there into Tsarina, since it does flow off the tongue (keyboard?) better. Similarly, "Mashka" is a diminutive nickname for Maria, as "Nastya" is for Anastasia. "Alyosha" was supposedly one of Alexei's nicknames, and is apparently Russian for "sunbeam." However, recent posts on the AP forum are suggesting that it was never used by the family, but has instead come out of posthumous accounts of them. And searching for the nickname only shows that it's another diminutive of Alexei, and that it doesn't actually mean anything in Russian. I'd end up giving myself a huge headache before I could solve how correct it would be to use it here, so I decided to go with it, since it fits in the scene anyway.

I'm starting to put page breaks in to separate the dialogue of the Doctor while narrating to Amy and Rory from his dialogue in the flashbacks. It may look a little weird to only have one or two lines and then another break, but I found it got confusing if I had it all as one wall of text.