A/N: Say Something by A Great Big World has suddenly turned into my soundtrack for this entire story. I listened to it on constant repeat as I wrote this chapter. And I realized the more I listened to the words, how perfect it was for these two for S2. And I gave myself feelings, so I thought I'd share them. A/N #2: Sorry if you guys get a second alert. FF was telling me that the story wasn't appearing, so I deleted the chapter and reposted. If there were problems before, I apologize.
A Difficult Situation
John suddenly found himself in control of his body again, complete with a pounding headache. "Blimey, my head," he groaned, rubbing it. Realizing he could actually feel the air around him, and that the walls crushing him were gone, he looked up in surprise. "Where'd she go?"
"Oh, my God," the Wolf complained. "I'm a chav!"
John stared at her, stunned. "Cassandra?" he asked uncertainly.
"Look at me. From class to brass," Cassandra whined. "Although, oh, curves." She bounced up and down a little. "Gracious, it's like living inside a bouncy castle!"
"Stop that!" John demanded, mortified.
"And she's hardly used. Oh –" Cassandra stuttered, "oh, two hearts! Oh, baby, I'm beating out a samba!"
"Get out of her!" he ordered.
"She's certainly acceptable," she decided. "You've thought so too. I've been inside your head," Cassandra said in a sly tone. "You've been looking. You like it," she said as she strutted around John.
John was spared any further embarrassment by the arrival of a mob of the ICU patients. "What do we do? What would she do? The Wolf, what the hell would she do?" Cassandra asked in a panic as the group of diseased people advanced on them.
John rapidly searched for an escape route. "Ladder," he saw. "We've got to get up."
"Out of the way, pinstripes!" Cassandra pushed past him.
John looked back as he waited for Cassandra to get up the ladder. "Please, help us," a sick woman begged. "Please."
"I'm sorry, I can't," John answered regretfully before ascending.
They made it about halfway up before John tried to reason with Cassandra again. "If you get out of the Wolf's body, she can think of something," he told her.
Cassandra groaned. "Yap, yap, yap. God, it was tedious inside your head. Nothing there, just a blank white wall. Tell me, do you have any thoughts in your brain?"
"Maybe I just didn't want you to see them," John retorted. "We're going to die if –" A clawed hand on his leg drew his attention downward. One of the nuns was gripping his ankle tightly. "Get off!" he yelled, trying to kick her away.
"All our good work. All that healing," the cat hissed. "The good name of the Sisterhood. You have destroyed everything!"
"Oh, go and play with a ball of string," Cassandra drawled.
"Everywhere, disease. This is the human world," the nun continued. "Sickness!" A diseased arm reached up and grasped her by the ankle, causing her to scream as her skin cracked and she fell to the ground far below.
John looked on in horror. "Move!" he yelled, urging Cassandra up.
She reached the next level, but the doors wouldn't slide open. "Now what do we do?" she asked desperately.
"Use the sonic screwdriver," John ordered, keeping an eye on the sick people approaching from below.
"You mean this thing?" Cassandra asked with distaste, holding the screwdriver with just her fingertips.
"Yes, I mean that thing!" he said, out of patience.
"Well, I don't know how. That Wolf's hidden away all her thoughts, even more than you did," Cassandra complained.
John made a snap decision. "Cassandra, go back into me. The Wolf can open it." Cassandra hesitated. "Do it!" he shouted.
Cassandra shrugged. "Hold on tight," she warned before taking a deep breath and shifting.
John opened his eyes to find himself back in the white room. "Fantastic," he muttered. At least the walls weren't quite as close as they had been before.
"Oh, pinstripes again," Cassandra whined. "Open it!" she told the Wolf.
The Wolf held up the screwdriver threateningly. "Not 'til you get out of him," she denied, her face stormy.
"We need the Wolf," Cassandra said.
"I order you to leave him!" the Wolf commanded.
John was quickly back in his own body.
"No matter how difficult the situation, there is no need to shout," Cassandra said prissily, in the Wolf's body once again.
"Cassandra get out of her!"
"But I can't go into you, she simply refuses." Cassandra sounded like a child denied her favorite toy. "She's so rude."
John shook his head. "I don't care," he told her. "Just do something."
Cassandra hesitated for a moment. "Oh, I am so going to regret this," she murmured before transferring to the diseased woman who was mere feet below John. "Oh, sweet Lord. I look disgusting!" she said, repelled.
The Wolf wasted no time sonicking the doors open and hauling herself through, making room for John to move up. "Nice to have you back," she grinned as John crawled out.
John was about to reply when he was violently thrust back into his white enclosure. "Oh, come on, Cassandra!" he yelled at the air.
The Wolf brandished her screwdriver again. "That was your last warning, Cassandra!"
But Cassandra just huddled to the floor. "Inside her head. They're so alone," she said quietly. "They keep reaching out, just to hold us. All their lives, and they've never been touched."
The Wolf's face softened, and she held out her hand. Cassandra looked up, understanding finally in her eyes, and grasped it.
The Wolf thought quickly as Clovis threatened to break quarantine. "All right, fine," she muttered. "So I have to stop you lot as well. Suits me. Cassandra, Novice Hame, everyone!" she ordered, running to all the different patient areas. "Excuse me, your Grace," she said as she barged in on the Duke of Manhattan. "Get me intravenous solutions for every single disease." No one moved for a second. "Move it!" she roared, sparking everyone into action.
While they were busy with that, she found a long piece of heavy silk rope, wrapped it around herself, and started hanging all the bags they brought her on the rope. Once they were all in place, she patted them, making sure they were all stable. "How's that? Will that do?" she asked Cassandra.
"Do for what? I hope it's not a fashion statement, because darling, it's hideous," Cassandra drawled.
The Wolf stared for a moment. "The words come from John's mouth but they make no sense," she mused.
"Couldn't have figured that out an hour ago while I was yammering on about computer sub-frames in a Cockney accent," John growled to himself. The walls were encroaching again, and he was getting seriously sick of the whole impending crushed to death scenario.
The Wolf ran to the lift doors and opened them up. "The lifts aren't working," Cassandra pointed out.
"Not moving. Different thing," the Wolf corrected. "Here we go." She put her screwdriver between her teeth and ran.
"But you're not going to –" Cassandra broke off as the Wolf did exactly that, leaping and grabbing on to the lift cable. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"I'm going down. Come on!" the Wolf ordered.
"Not in a million years," Cassandra shook her head.
"You are so going," John muttered.
"I need another pair of hands," the Wolf told her. "What do you think? If you're so desperate to stay alive, why don't you live a little?"
Cassandra's way out was cut off as Clovis sealed the doors and she shut her eyes tightly before leaping to grab the cable as well. She squealed as she hit the Wolf's back, and John groaned at the unmanly sound coming out of his mouth. "You're completely mad," she said. "I can see why he likes you."
John buried his face in his hands, even though no one could see him.
The Wolf luckily chose to ignore that observation. "Going down," she announced before they descended rapidly down the shaft.
"Listen," she said when they got to the bottom. "When I say so, take hold of that lever."
"There's still a quarantine down there," Cassandra protested, "we can't –"
"Hold that lever!" the Wolf interrupted. "I'm cooking up a cocktail. John's certainly not the only one that knows a bit about medicine." She proceeded to pour the contents of every drip bag into the lift's disinfectant tank. "Now that lever's going to resist," she informed Cassandra as she stood back up. "But keep it in position. Hold onto it with everything you've got."
"What about you?" Cassandra asked.
The Wolf grinned. "This time, I'm the doctor." She dropped down into the lift carriage, opening the doors with her screwdriver. The diseased people milling about in the hospital lobby turned to look at the new noise. "I'm in here!" she shouted at them. "Come on!"
"Don't tell them," Cassandra hissed.
"Pull that lever!" the Wolf commanded.
The Wolf watched with glee as the cure-filled disinfectant sprayed over many of the diseased people, who then proceeded to transfer it to those not yet affected. "Pass it on!" she kept yelling joyfully. Eventually, all the diseased in the room had been cleared of any and all symptoms. "Come down," she told Cassandra, who carefully lowered herself to the ground.
"What did they pass on?" she asked. "Did you kill them? All of them?"
The Wolf shook her head. "No. That's your way of doing things. John and I are a bit different. I cured them," she said with a happy grin.
John watched with a stupid smile on his face as the Wolf celebrated. She deserved more days like this.
"The Face of Boe!" the Wolf realized, suddenly remembering that he had wanted to see her. She returned to Ward 26, Cassandra following close behind. The alien that had been unaware before was now wide awake and alert. And, it seemed, waiting for her.
"You were supposed to be dying," the Wolf said in reproach.
There are better things to do today. Dying can wait, the Face of Boe sighed out mentally.
John startled. He recognized that voice.
"Oh, I hate telepathy," Cassandra complained. "Just what I need, a head full of big face."
"Shh!" the Wolf reprimanded.
I have grown tired with the universe, Wolf, but you taught me to look at it anew, the Face of Boe went on.
"There are legends, you know, saying that you're millions of years old," the Wolf mentioned.
There are? the Face of Boe questioned, seemingly amused. That would be impossible.
Hello again, John Smythe, the Face of Boe sounded in John's mind. He shook his head, bewildered. It was the same voice from Platform One, all those months ago. The one that had warned him of danger.
"How are you doing this?" he asked the air.
A chuckle sounded. That is not important.
"Wouldn't it just," the Wolf was saying. "I got the impression there was something you wanted to tell me."
A great secret, the Face of Boe acknowledged.
"So the legend says."
There was a pause. It can wait.
"Oh, does it have to?" the Wolf whined, disappointed.
You must listen, John Smythe, the Face of Boe spoke once more to John alone. The path you walk is not easy. There is heartache in your future. But when all seems lost, do not lose hope. Do not speak of this to the Wolf, but remember: when the first tears from the sky fall to the ground, the Bad Wolf howls for the Oncoming Storm.
John shook his head at the cryptic words. "What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered. "What does that mean?" There was no answer. "Hello?"
The Face of Boe spoke once more to the Wolf, leaving John confounded. We shall meet again, Wolf, for the third time, for the last time, and the truth shall be told, he announced. Until that day – He beamed away in his tank, leaving both John and the Wolf hanging.
The Wolf stayed where she had been kneeling. "That is enigmatic," she said, amazed. "That – that is – that is textbook enigmatic." She looked up at Cassandra. "And now for you."
Cassandra backed away. "But everything's happy. Everything's fine. Can't you just leave me?"
"You've lived long enough," the Wolf informed her. "I want that body back, Cassandra. Leave and end it."
"I don't want to die."
"No one does."
"Help me."
"I can't."
"Mistress!" Chip's voice broke in.
"Oh, you're alive." Cassandra didn't sound all too thrilled.
"I kept myself safe for you, Mistress," Chip told her.
Realization dawned on Cassandra. "A body. And not just that, a volunteer," she mused.
"You can't, Cassandra," the Wolf warned, "you –" but she was cut off when Cassandra transferred, finally leaving John alone in his mind for good. He staggered into a wall, nearly falling to the floor before the Wolf caught him by the shoulders and braced him up against the wall he'd run into. "You all right?" she asked, letting go slightly. John's knees buckled and she quickly grabbed him again. "Whoa!" John finally steadied after a few more seconds. "Okay?" she asked.
John nodded dizzily. "Yeah," he murmured, but then looked up, grinning. "Hello!" he said happily.
The Wolf smiled, tongue peeking out. "Hello. Welcome back."
"Oh, sweet Lord. I'm a walking doodle," Chip, now Cassandra, interrupted their reunion.
John and the Wolf walked silently away from the party, John lost in his thoughts. Cassandra had attempted to murder a lot of people, including him multiple times – his head still ached fiercely from the psychograft – but in the end, he couldn't help feeling just a bit sorry for her as he watched her die.
"How's your head?" the Wolf inquired quietly. "Any damage?"
"It hurts some," John admitted, "but I don't think any lasting damage, no. Everything seems to be in one piece up there."
"What do you remember?" she asked, curious. "Anything?"
"Yeah, I was in this empty, white room, and there was this sort of screen on the wall. I could see what was going on, and it was like looking through my eyes, but I wasn't in control. And the room kept getting smaller, trying to crush me," John explained. "That was the psychograft, yeah?"
"So you remember everything that happened?" the Wolf asked in surprise.
"Yeah?" It sounded more like a question than a confirmation. This was the third time in recent days that John got the feeling he'd done something he wasn't supposed to do, or something he wasn't supposed to be able to do. "Is that bad?"
"No!" the Wolf was quick to reassure him, though she still looked a bit worried. "A little surprising, maybe, but certainly not bad."
John looked at her, not convinced, but let it go as they re-entered the TARDIS, holding the door open for the Wolf to allow her to go in first. The TARDIS chimed happily at her people's return. The Wolf walked over to the console to prepare the ship for take-off, but John hung back by the doors, fidgeting nervously.
"Um, Wolf?" he tried to begin.
"Hmm?" the Wolf hummed absently before noticing his missing presence and turning to look for him, raising her eyebrows when she found him still hovering by the entrance. "What's the matter, John?"
John hesitated. "About that- erm – that kiss," he stumbled his way through.
The Wolf eyes widened. "Oh! Right! That," she realized.
"Yeah." John ran his hand through his hair, trying to organize his words. "Erm – I just – I wanted to say – well, I just – you know, I didn't –" John cursed when he couldn't get the words out.
The Wolf smiled a bit. "I know, John," she said, saving him. "It wasn't you."
John sighed in relief. "Right! I wouldn't – I mean, I don't –" he gave up, blushing furiously. "Well then, good."
The Wolf nodded, looking like she was trying not to laugh. "Good," she agreed. "Are you for bed?"
"No, I'm still a little too wired. Media room?" John asked.
"Sure. Let me just set us in the Vortex and we're good. I'll meet you there."
"Okay." John walked off, leaving the Wolf alone with her thoughts for the moment. John's test results from the night before were confusing, and theoretically impossible. But John had done the impossible three times in the last week, and it all stemmed from looking into the heart of the TARDIS.
The Wolf was worried. But the test results said he was at least healthy, and he didn't seem to be showing any adverse effects, so the Wolf resolved to maintain a quiet lookout. John may be fine for now, but if that changed, she was determined to be ready.
John wasn't going to be someone who died for her.
A/N: The phrase that the Face of Boe recites to John, I borrowed. I don't know where it originally came from, but it's so cryptic and I love it.
