"Hold that one down!" the Doctor shouted over the alarm. She looked over at the button he had pointed to amidst all the shaking, then she looked over at the one she was holding now. No doubt he wanted them both held down, so making a decision, she swung her leg up and pressed the other one down with her foot. The Doctor glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow in amusement at these antics, and she tried not to smile, knowing this would be tame compared to things his next self would do to the console.

"It's not going to work!" she cried.

"Oi! I promised you a time machine and that's what you're getting. Now, you've seen the future. Let's have a look at the past. 1860. How does 1860 sound?"

"A decade out of your driving range," she muttered under her breath. Any second, his infamous driving would strike again, and they would go a little off track…just a little…by a county and about nine years. "Sounds brilliant," she said aloud however, smiling at him. "Fantastic, even."

He smiled broadly at her. "That's what I like to hear. Hold on, here we go!"

The TARDIS shook violently as it hurtled through the vortex. It landed with a rough jolt, knocking them both away from the console and on their backs. They exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

"Blimey, I forgot about that," she said as she got up. He gave her an odd look. "I've only been around for a few landings, after all," she added quickly, backpedalling. "Takes some getting used to."

"Sorry," he said, looking contrite.

"No worries," she said. "Nothing broken. It was fun." She joined him at the console. "So, where are we?"

"I did it!" he exclaimed in excitement. "Give the man a medal. Earth, Naples, December 24th, 1860."

"It's Christmas!"

"All yours," he told her, gesturing to the doors. He had a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, the same one he always got at the beginning of an adventure when they landed somewhere new, someone they'd never been before. She knew that part of it was that he loved seeing it through her eyes, the fresh young traveler, open and new to everything the universe had to offer. Some of his weariness always fell away through these vicarious experiences.

"It's incredible," she breathed.

"You haven't seen it yet!"

"I know, but, it's like...there's these moments, right? Happening all the time, every second, everywhere. Some of them are important, some of them are just important to the people experiencing them, but then they're gone, just like that," she said, snapping her fingers. "Irretrievable. But not for you. You get to relive all the moments, important or not, moments that happened across the universe and a hundred thousand sunsets ago. It's no wonder you never stay still," she finished, shaking her head a little.

"Not a bad life," he agreed softly, watching her.

"Better with two," she said with a grin, getting a thrill at speaking those familiar words again. On an impulse, she jumped up and kissed his cheek before dashing off to the corridor.

"Oi oi oi, where you going?"

She froze for a second, realizing her mistake. She wasn't supposed to know where the Wardrobe was yet. She turned quickly. "Just seeing if I can find something more era appropriate on this ship somewhere. Might start a riot if I go out like this."

"Right, good plan Barbarella." he said, eyeing her up and down. "It's the Wardrobe you want. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, it's the fifth door on your left. Hurry up!"

She nodded happily and took off again. She found the dress she'd warn last time waiting for her, and offered up a silent thanks to the ship as she climbed into it as quickly as she could. Quick as she could was not, however, as quick as she would've liked. 1860s fashion, while beautiful, was not conducive to speedy changes, even with the TARDIS's corset machine to help.

Once she was done, she examined her reflection critically. The dress was even more amazing than she remembered, but it wasn't exactly "adventure friendly." Running was going to be a pain. She was suddenly very glad that they hadn't had more adventures that required costume attire. She was also very jealous that the Doctor, both versions, had seemed to effortlessly fit into whatever time period they were in without so much as a bat of an eye. She sighed heavily and made her way back to the console room.

"Blimey," the Doctor gasped when he looked up.

"Think I cleaned up rather nice," she said, smoothing down the skirts a little.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"Considering I'm human," she teased with a grin. He just stared up at her, looking a little stunned. Her smile widened. It wasn't often she'd seen the Doctor speechless. "And you've changed, as well. New jumper?"

"Yep," he said happily after shaking himself out of his stupor. "All I needed. This look is timeless, you know."

"Oh, I know," she said, pulling a face. "If only we were all so lucky. Well, c'mon then," she said as he laughed, darting over to him and grabbing his arm to haul him over to the doors. He stumbled after her, reaching the doors just behind her.

She stepped out, relishing the feel of real snow under her feet. It had been so long since she'd been able to experience that. She skipped away a little, then spun back to the Doctor, beaming at him. He smiled back, thrilled that she was so happy.

"Ready for this?" he asked, walking up to her and offering his arm. She took it, leaning against him a little to catch the whiff of leather. She nodded and grinned, her tongue poking out just a little between her teeth. "Here we go! History!"

oOoOo

They walked around for a few minutes while Rose happily drank in the sights around her. The slightly provincial surroundings, the carriages, the carolers...Rose felt more at ease here, now, with the Doctor, than she had in years. She knew it wasn't going to last, but she was determined to enjoy it while it did.

The Doctor moved away to get a paper, and Rose followed after him. She saw his face fall when he realized where they were, but she just smiled.

"I got the flight a bit wrong," he admitted.

"I don't care," she replied.

"It's not 1860, it's 1869."

"I don't care," she repeated.

"And it's not Naples,"

"I don't care," she said again.

"It's Cardiff," he finished, folding up the paper and pointedly avoiding her gaze.

"Brilliant," she said with a bright smile.

He stopped and stared at her. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. "Brilliant? Cardiff?"

"Oi, don't knock it," she told him. "Great things will happen one day in Cardiff, you'll see."

He looked around him for a moment, then smiled. "You're cute when you're delusional, you know that?"

They started walking again, but soon heard a scream from a building nearby. The Doctor stopped for a moment, looking at the building. "That's more like it," he said with a grin, tossing the paper aside. He sprinted toward the commotion as Rose rolled her eyes.

"And so starts the running," she muttered, hitching up her skirts to go after him.

They fought against the crowd rushing out of the theater to see the wraith fly up past the balconies.

"Fantastic," the Doctor murmured before running to the stage to talk to the man there. Ah, Dickens, Rose thought happily, gazing at the man fondly before turning her attention back to the people now trying to manhandle the dead woman out of her seat. She wanted to get to them quick, hopefully somehow get a jump on this whole situation.

"Doctor!" she called. "I'm going after them!"

"Be careful!" he shouted back as she sprinted back out of the theater.

"Gwyneth!" she called as she caught sight of them outside. "Gwyneth, we need to talk about this."

"What?" the woman cried, turning around quickly. "Who are you? How did you—"

"No time," she said quickly, leaning on the hearse and panting a little. Seriously, she really needed to gain back some of her endurance. She vowed to find to hit the pool when they made it back to the TARDIS. "These creatures, the ones that are taking the dead, they're not—"

She was cut off as a hand grabbed her roughly, pressing a cloth to her mouth.

Bloody hell, she thought as blackness descended. Not again.

They manhandled her into the hearse, and she felt the old man sneak a feel. Her mind recoiled, but she registered a voice calling her name before she lost consciousness completely.

oOoOo

She woke slowly and sat up, feeling achey and dizzy. What the hell had happened?

Oh, that's right. She'd been kidnapped. Again.

She'd been trying to help. If they could have just stopped and listened for two minutes, waited for the Doctor, it would have all been different. Well, maybe.

She heard a groaning behind her and froze. She turned slowly to see the man wreathed in a blue glow sitting up in a coffin.

"Oh, no...no no no no...not again." She jumped up from the table, sprinting for the door. She pounded on it, realizing that even her Torchwood training was useless because the door toward her instead of away. "Doctor!" she shouted. "Doctor, lemme out!"

She heard more groaning behind her, and chanced a look. The old woman was up again now too. She took up pounding and shouting with a new vigor. She heard running in the hall, and backed up quickly, screaming when she felt an arm come around her neck as the door was kicked open by the Oncoming Storm.

"I think this is my dance," the Doctor said, grabbing her and pulling her to his side. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her away a few paces. She shivered as she felt his solid strength around her.

"It's a prank," Dickens said from behind the Doctor. "It must be. We're under some mesmeric influence."

"No, we're not," the Doctor said darkly. "The dead are walking." Then he grinned down at Rose. "Hi!"

"Hello," she said with a smile. "Good to see you, Charlie," she added over his shoulder. Dickens gave her a surprised smile. The Doctor was momentarily nonplussed. After a pause, he was able to drag his gaze from her face and take in the attackers.

"My name's the Doctor," he told them, still not sounding friendly. "Who are you, then? What do you want?"

"We're failing," the man said, his voice having a weird double echo effect. "Open the rift, we're dying. Trapped in this form…cannot sustain…help us."

Both he and the old woman let out strange, ethereal screams, and the blue glow flowed out of them and into the lamps.

oOoOo

The Doctor and Rose followed Gwyneth to the parlor as Sneed and Dickens set about placing the corpses back into their coffins. Dickens, she suspected, had volunteered in order to check for evidence of shenanigans.

As soon as Gwyneth left them to boil the kettle, Rose spoke.

"You can't open the rift," she said urgently. "We need to get rid of the ghosts without it."

"They need help," the Doctor said, confused.

"Really," she said, raising her eyebrows. "And killing me was going to help them, was it?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but no words came out. Sneed chose that moment to enter the room with Dickens, and she rounded on him.

"And you!" she shouted. "I was trying to help you. And what do you do? Knock me out and cop a feel before throwing me in the back of a hearse with a corpse? In what way does that sound like a good plan?"

"I will not be spoken to like this," he said gruffly.

"Oh yes you bloody well will," she yelled. She'd been angry before, but now she was furious. Because she knew that he was aware, at least in part, of how dangerous this situation was, and willingly subjected her to it out of fear for his business. "Because, as if that all wasn't bad enough, you then threw me in a room with dead bodies and ghosts that you knew were dangerous. Hoped they'd finish the job, did you?"

"It's not my fault, it's this house!" Sneed cried. "It always had a reputation. Haunted. But I never had much bother until a few months back. And then the stiffs, er, dearly departed," he corrected quickly, seeing Dickens' offended look, "started getting restless."

"Tommyrot," Dickens said derisively.

"You witnessed it! Can't keep the beggars down, sir! They walk. And it's the queerest thing that they hang on to scraps..."

Rose watched as Gwyneth gave the Doctor his two sugar tea, studying her. She brought her gaze up to the Doctor to see him watching the maid curiously as she walked away, his mind already working furiously.

She had to find a way to keep this from happening again.

"One old fella who used to be a sexton almost walked into his own memorial service," Sneed was saying. "Just like the old lady going to your performance, sir! Just as she planned."

"Morbid fancy," Dickens scoffed.

"Oh, Charles, you were there," the Doctor cried, irritated.

"I saw nothing but an illusion," the author insisted, and the Doctor scoffed.

"If you're going to deny it, don't waste my time," the Doctor told him. "Just shut up. What about the gas?" he asked Sneed, ignoring Dickens' stunned expression.

"That's new, sir," Sneed said. "Never seen anything like that."

"Means it's getting stronger," he said thoughtfully. "The rift's getting wider and something's sneaking through."

"And what kind of rift is this?" Dickens' asked, his curiosity overpowering his pride for the moment.

"A weak point in time and space," The Doctor replied. "The connection between this place and another. That's the cause of ghost stories, most of the time."

"That's how I got the house so cheap," Sneed marveled. "Stories going back generations," he continued. "Echoes in the dark. Queer songs in the air and this feeling like a...shadow. Passing over your soul. Mind you, truth be told, it's been good for business. Just what people expect from a gloomy old trade like mine."

The Doctor and Rose exchanged a grin.

"Forgive me, sir, but how can we fix this?" Gwyneth asked after a moment. "How can we stop it from happening?"

The Doctor just looked away and shook his head. He didn't have any answers for her.

oOoOo

Rose followed Gwyneth into the kitchen, picking up a dry towel to help the girl with the dishes.

"Please, Miss!" Gwyneth cried. "You shouldn't be helping! It's not right!"

"Don't be daft," Rose told her. "No stranger to dishes, me. And you deserve a little rest. Sneed is a bully…he can't be a great boss."

"Ah, now that's not fair," Gwyneth said, tugging the cloth out of Rose's hand, who finally gave it up reluctantly. "He's not so bad, old Sneed. Gives me eight pound a year, miss, and that's on top of taking me in after I lost my mum and dad to the flu."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Rose said after a moment. "I lost my dad when I was a baby."

"But you found him again," Gwyneth said with a smile. "In another world. Me, I'll see my parents again in Paradise. They're waiting there for me."

Rose stared at her. This wasn't the conversation that she'd had last time. Not quite. Gwyneth was seeing pieces of her altered past.

"You're lucky to have the Doctor," Gwyneth continued after a moment. "He seems like such a nice man, and clearly cares about you a great deal."

"Yeah," Rose said distractedly, still studying the girl. Then she shook herself. "Yeah," she said again. "He is wonderful. I love travelling with him."

"And you've travelled so far," Gwyneth said quietly. "Further than anyone."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're from London. I've seen London in drawings, but never like that," she turned and looked intently at Rose. "All those people rushing about. Half naked, for shame. And the noise...and the metal boxes racing past...and the birds in the sky...they're metal as well. Metal birds with people in them. People flying. And you - you've flown so far, across the dead space into a world trying to wipe you away, cut off from the one who makes you whole. The things you've seen…the things you've done…to stop it all. To save so many, to stop three hearts from breaking, to keep from fading away into the darkness…the Big Bad Wolf—" she stopped suddenly, staggering backwards. "I'm sorry!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, miss!"

"It's...it's alright, Gwyneth," Rose stammered, trying to reassure her. She knew that Gwyneth wasn't really apologizing for entering her mind this time…this time, she was expressing sorrow and pity because of what she'd seen. "You didn't mean to," deliberately changing the focus of the conversation.

"I can't help it," she said after a moment, understanding Rose's need to redirect. "Ever since I was a little girl. My mum said I had the sight. She told me to hide it!"

"But it's getting stronger," said the Doctor from the doorway, making both girls jump. "More powerful, is that right?"

"All the time, sir. Every night. Voices in my head."

"You grew up on top of the rift. You're part of it," the Doctor explained. "You're the key."

"I've tried to make sense of it, sir," Gwyneth told him. "Consulted with spiritualists, table wrappers, all sorts."

"Well, that should help. You can show us what to do."

"What to do where, sir?" she asked him, confused.

"No," Rose said before he could speak. "We are not doing a séance. No."

"Yep!" he cried happily. "That's exactly what we're going to do. And Gwyneth here is going to lead it."

"Are you sure that's the best plan?" she asked.

"How else do you get answers from ghosts?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Come on," he added, pulling at her wrist to get her moving while gesturing to Gwyneth to lead the way.

"She was born here, raised here," he said quietly to Rose as they followed the maid. "Absorbed the rift energy every day of her life, magnifying whatever low level telepathy she already had into full blown psychic. Isn't that fantastic?"

"Are you sure this is going to be safe for her, though?"

"Oh, yeah. No harm just in talking." He cut a look at her. "Out of curiosity…do you know what she was talking about in there? The bit about fading into darkness and the big bad wolf?"

"No idea," she said airily. "She's psychic, right? Maybe something in the future."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed. Then he put and arm around her shoulders, squeezing her close. "Don't worry, Red…no big bad wolves are getting past me."

oOoOo

"This is how Madam Mortlock summons those from the Land of Mists. Down in Mid Town," Gwyneth was saying as they sat around the table. "Come. We must all join hands."

"I can't take part in this," Dickens said, standing up.

"Humbug?" the Doctor questioned him. "Come on, open mind."

"This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I try to un-mask," Dickens declared roughly. "Séances? Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This girl knows nothing." An uncertain look passed over Gwyneth's face, and she shrank into herself.

"Rude," Rose muttered, then shot a quick glance at the Doctor, thinking suddenly of the man he would be. Mind you, he could be quite rude in this body too.

"Yes, don't antagonize her," the Doctor put in. "I love a happy medium."

"Oh my god," Rose groaned, then laughed when she saw him smiling at his own joke.

"Come on, we might need you," he told Dickens, who sat down grudgingly. "Good man. Now, Gwyneth. Reach out."

"Speak to us," Gwyneth called awkwardly after a moment, eyes up to the heavens. "Are you there? Spirits?" Rose saw Dickens roll his eyes, and she gave him a small kick under the table accompanied by a look that clearly said "behave." "Come. Speak to us that we may relieve your burden." Soft whispers began to fill the room.

"They're he-ere," Rose singsonged under her breath.

"Nothing can happen," Dickens insisted stubbornly. "This is sheer folly."

"Mister Dickens, look at her," Rose said, nodding at Gwyneth, who was now surrounded by swirling blue gas. "That's not nothing."

"I feel them. I feel them!" Gwyneth cried, closing her eyes.

"What is that?" Sneed wondered as the whispers grew louder. "What are they saying?"

"They can't get through the rift," the Doctor said, watching the gas. He turned and leaned in to the maid. "Gwyneth, it's not controlling you, you're controlling it. Now look deep. Allow them through."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can," the Doctor assured her calmly. "Just believe it. I have faith in you, Gwyneth. Make the link."

Her face screwed up in pain for a moment, then cleared as she looked forward and opened her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

There was a flash of light, and then three figures materialized around Gwyneth, the tallest directly behind her. Dickens and Sneed both recoiled in shock.

"Great God," Sneed cried. "Sprits from the other side!"

"The other side of the universe," the Doctor corrected quietly, his eyes trained on the figures.

"Pity us," said Gwyneth, whose voice was reverberated in a high, sad tone. The voice of the Gelth. "Pity the Gelth. There is so little time, help us."

"What do you want us to do?" the Doctor asked them.

"The rift," the voice said. "Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge."

"What for?"

"We are so very few. The last of our kind. We face extinction." Rose made an irritated noise. The other three glanced at her and she looked down quickly.

"Why, what happened?" the Doctor asked, turning back to Gwyneth.

"Once we had a physical form like you," the voice told him. "But then the war came."

"War?" Dickens asked curiously. "What war?"

"The Time War." Rose exchanged a glance with the Doctor. This, she knew, was part of the reason he would become adamant that they aid the Gelth. He tended to believe that blame for the Time War rested entirely on his shoulders.

"The whole universe convulsed," the Gelth continued. "The Time War raged, invisible to smaller species but devastating to higher forms. Our bodies wasted away. We're trapped in this gaseous state."

"So that's why you need the corpses," the Doctor commented.

"We want to stand tall," sighed the voice of the Gelth. Rose's eyes narrowed. "To feel the sunlight. To live again. We need a physical form, and your dead are abandoned. They're going to waste, give them to us!"

"No," Rose cut in firmly, eyes on the tallest figure as it whipped around to look at her.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked, surprised at her coldness.

"Because I don't trust them," she told him. "If all they wanted were a few bodies to bang around in, why'd they try to kill me? There's more here that they're not saying."

"Killing was not our intention," the Gelth said quickly. The Doctor looked from one to the other, guilt and logic warring within him. "Open the rift. Let the Gelth through. We're dying. Help us. Pity the Gelth!"

With those last words, the figures disappeared into the lamps. Gwyneth collapsed on the table. Rose jumped up and moved to her side. She called her name, and, getting no response, tried to move her.

"Let me," a voice said softly. Rose moved aside as the Doctor gently lifted Gwyneth and moved her to the couch. Rose found a flannel and doused it in cool water before placing it on Gwyneth's head.

The Doctor stood back, studying the unconscious girl thoughtfully. Rose gave him a look, silently warning him against trying start a discussion before Gwyneth woke up. He nodded and stepped away. Rose turned back to Gwyneth, vowing to herself that she would not allow her to be hurt again.