A/N: So last time. Rose was put in the same room as two dead people that promptly came to life and tried to kill him. Freaked her out a bit. Kaullus came bursting in, punching Sneed out – hehe – without anything resembling a sonic screwdriver. The story of the ghosts is told, the rift starts sounding all wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey, and I've completely forgotten what I was talking about. So let's just get on with this.
Don't own Doctor Who, do own Kaullus. BBC are ruining anything I watch. Moffat needs to go back to writing and will someone go down to Cardiff and tell the guys to tone down on the music! Watch season 1, listen to the music in that, and then compare with seasons 3 onwards. First two seasons? Far superior.
We open with a scene that, honestly, I probably could've put in the last chapter.

Chapter 9

The Gelth

It didn't take the Doctor long to find Charles again. A man like that, working his way up through the gutter with nothing but his imagination and creative ability – as well as nerves of steel to write his tales – would have wanted to see the scene of the crime one more time to work out just for himself just how the 'illusion' had been managed. That Tahkaullus though, getting on his case for not buying into the appearance, did he have to have put it so bluntly? Granted he likely would have done the same thing but when placed in a position where he could see how it might have played out, it didn't do much to endear him towards the man who called himself his friend. The Doctor commended Charles for looking for another answer, even if it was the wrong one. That was what was so brilliant about the human race – they kept trying. Always looking for a solution, and always eventually finding an answer. They may be stupid apes sometimes, but the rest of the time they were absolutely fantastic.

As expected, he found Charles in the Chapel of Rest, inspecting the coffin containing the man – a Mister Redpath, Sneed had been good enough to tell him in passing – looking underneath it for something that could suggest a hoax. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching the man work for a moment before speaking up.

"Checking for strings?"

Charles jumped slightly, glancing at him for a moment, before going back to it. "Wires, perhaps?" He suggested, looking up at the ceiling for any such thing and growling in frustration when he found nothing. "There must be some mechanism behind this fraud!"

Sighing, the Doctor loosened up and stepped inside, "Oh come on now Charles." But the man paid him no heed, going back to his work. Frowning at what he suspected was getting at his favourite author, the Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder "He was out of line, he shouldn't have told you to shut up." There was no need to elaborate who 'He' was, though from what he could make out, Tahkaullus wasn't one to apologise for anything he did or said. A bit like me in that respect.

Shaking off that morbid thought, the Doctor picked up on something, "However he does have a point. You've got one of the best minds in the world." He nodded at the nailed up coffins, "You saw those creatures."

But Charles shook his head, weary eyes full of disbelief and scepticism. "I cannot accept that."

"And," he insisted over him, "what does the human body do when it decomposes? It breaks down and produces gas. Perfect little home for these gas things – they can slip inside and use it as a vehicle. Just like your driver and his coach."

But that was evidently too much for Charles "Stop it!" he snapped, hands up in defiance. Again he looked at the Doctor with those tired eyes that spoke of a long life, filled with peaks and pitfalls and all of his experience crying out that what he saw was folly. "Can it be" he asked at last, "that I have the world entirely wrong?"

Wrong? Hardly! "Not at all, no!" The Doctor assured him comfortingly, patting him gently "There's just more to learn." There's always more to learn. The day you know everything is the day life stops.

And clearly, as far as Charles Dickens was concerned, that day had been and gone. "I've always railed against the fantasies." He stated sharply, "Oh I loved a good illusion as much as the next man – that's what they were. Illusions!" He stressed the word so strongly, enough to tell the Doctor exactly why he only wrote fantasies around Christmas time. Everything else he'd written had been powerfully charged with that dose of reality, which he brought forth now. "The real world is something else. I dedicated myself to that. Injustices.

Tale of Two Cities.

"Great social causes."

Hard Times.

The old author sighed, "I hoped that I was a force for good in this bleak world." And now it looked like his gaze became almost accusatorial as he continued, "Now you and your nameless associate tell me that the real world is a realm full of spectres and jack o' lanterns." The weariness now compounded itself as he seemed to age before the Doctor's eyes, looking all of his fifty-seven years. "In which case…have I wasted my brief span here on this Earth, Doctor?" Fear, and not a little bit of bitterness, shot through his tone there as he asked the Doctor plainly, "Has it all been for nothing?"

Before he could answer though, a voice behind him responded. "No life is wasted if one believes in what he's doing." Turning back to the chapel entrance, they saw Tahkaullus standing there, hands in pockets, shoulders a little bit more hunched. Indeed he looked to be carrying a burden that hadn't been there before. Stepping inside, he tapped on the other coffin a bit before turning back to Charles. "Your books talk about the strains of life and the hardships many have to work to overcome. When you started, you couldn't have thought you'd end up here: Known throughout the empire." His eyes narrowed a bit as he continued "Few people ever get that sort of recognition, fewer still ever deserve it. But you," he pressed on, hands out in front of him as if presenting Charles with some form of certifying article "you've always written reality – the best and worst of times right? How can you say your life was wasted, when you captured life so perfectly?"

Genuinely surprised at the man's insightfulness, the Doctor turned his attention back to Charles. He didn't look any more upbeat, however there was something shining now in those eyes. It wasn't acceptance per say. Rather it was the beginning of it – that spark that lights a fire. The spark of inspiration.

Tahkaullus and Charles Dickens weren't the only ones who had something weighing on them. Over in the kitchen, Rose was going over what had happened in the living room, how Tahkaullus had looked at her so forcefully, how he'd tried to get any vibe of recognition out of her besides his name…How crushed he'd appeared when he realised just how much about him that she didn't know. He'd been crying at the end of it for God's sake! Just how close were they in the future…or his past…or whatever! For that matter he didn't even really answer her question about being a time traveller. He'd just said he was in the 'basic term' of the word…but what did that mean?! Could he travel through time like them or couldn't he?

The unanswered questions were getting her all the more frustrated, she needed something to do, something to take her mind off of that man and his avoidance of answering questions the likes she'd only ever encountered with the Doctor. Something else the two of them have in common. She thought to herself before snapping out of that and trying to find a different subject to focus on. Finding nothing to think about she looked for a practical outlet, which took the form of a sink, a couple of teacups and a rubbing cloth. Well 1869 was before the dish washer, and it worked to help distract her.

Soon enough she was thinking only on how she'd never make fun of her mum or Mickey again when it came to washing out the mugs. Tea stains were impossible to get out! Sighing, she got the soap – a big and chunky block of it – and got to rubbing at the cups properly. She was decidedly thankful that her dress didn't have any sleeves right now, she didn't need to pull anything back to work on the wash without worrying about staining it. Bit late for that now she considered after a moment, the poor thing already had dust stains from the hearse ride as well as pollen stains from the lilies. A plus though was that it wasn't torn or ripped anywhere, which was pretty good considering the roughhousing she'd been caught up in half an hour ago.

All the same, Rose was soon distracted enough that she didn't notice anyone else until Gwyneth came in from the corridor having lit the gas lamps at Sneed's orders.

"Please Miss!" She protested immediately, rushing over and taking the cup and rag out of her hands immediately, "You shouldn't be helping! It's not right!"

"Don't be daft!" Rose just laughed back, grabbing another cloth and getting right back into it with a dish on the side. "That Sneed works you to death." For a while she just worked on the dish, before handing it over to the reluctant maid who rubbed it dry. For a moment she regarded her work partner for a moment, remembering what little she knew about Victorian work schemes she'd learnt about from school. Gwyneth had to live in with Sneed but she still got paid, and putting up with him, she probably ought to get more than she did.

"How much do you get paid?" She asked, deciding to get it out in the clear.

"Eight pound a year, Miss." Gwyneth replied promptly, sounding quite proud of herself.

As for Rose though, she was fighting to keep her lower jaw from collapsing at the sheer difference in their times on the concept of minimum wage. "How much?" She asked again, trying to wrap her head around it.

"I know." The maid nodded happily, completely missing the dumbfounded expression on Rose's face "I would've been happy with just six."

Stumped for a moment, it took her a moment to get her head working again. Eight pound a year? And she'd have been fine with six? Granted she figured that was probably a lot more in 1869, and she could remember her mum telling her about how you used to be able to buy a Mars bar for sixpence when she was a kid. But still, it rattled her twenty-first century mind. "So…" and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know the answer to this "did you go to school or what?"

"Of course I did." Gwyneth replied, putting down the dish and rag, looking mildly scandalised, "What do you think I am, an urchin?" She smiled a bit proudly to herself, "I went every Sunday, nice and proper."

"What? Once a week?" Suddenly Rose was reassessing the maid's plight. One day of school a week would've been a dream come true to any number of her friends back home.

She smiled again, that liveliness that she'd at first mistaken for nerves coming back into her step as she bounced back and forth. "We did sums and everything." Then the grin dimmed a bit and she leaned in, a look of utter contempt taking over her features. "To be honest…I hated every moment of it."

So some things really do never change. Rose couldn't help laughing at her own thoughts, "Me too!" She agreed, memories of boring hours sat behind a desk or a table as some old fart or daft cow rambled on and on, putting half the class to sleep with their words. She'd made an honest stab at it, but they'd made it so…unenthusiastic, dull. Boring. In the end, she'd gone off with Jimmy Stones because he at least had seemed exciting. She'd ignored Mickey's warnings, flat out blanked her mum, and had run off with him.

And look how that ended up. That 'romantic runaway' had ended in a caravan, eight hundred quid out of pocket, and in a torn up night shirt. She still couldn't entirely recall how that had gone down, or how she'd gotten home, but could clearly remember Jimmy coming out holding the shorter straw; two days later she'd found out he'd been arrested on rape charges screaming something about a 'bloody headed man.' They'd said he was raving.

Still, it had been fun at the start. New. Exciting. Something she expected Gwyneth had been hoping for her life too, especially when she confided her next big secret. "Don't tell anyone…" she glanced out at the door to the rest of the house before carrying on, smiling excitedly "but one time, I didn't go and ran on the heath all on my own!"

Oh this definitely felt familiar, Rose found herself grinning nostalgically as memories of her own cavorting rose up. "I've done plenty of that," she assured, "I used to go down to the shops with my mates Keisha and Shireen. And we used to go look at boys!"

She should've probably mentioned most of the boys she'd gone taking a peek at were the models in magazines – it was Shir and Keish who'd been more into getting a look at the real deal – though there was that one time when they'd gone down near her future place of employment when she'd caught the eye of a chap in tweed and a bow tie of all things, with floppy brown hair and cheekbones to die for. Regardless of his choice of outfit, he'd been a delicious sight.

Either way, Gwyneth's doe-eyes were wide open again, her cheeks going a bit red. "Oh…well, I don't know about that Miss." She said hurriedly, turning her attention to the already dry dish in her hands.

Oh, there's a story there. "C'mon," Rose urged, "times haven't changed that much." She put her things aside sitting herself up on the sink counter, pulling up the material of her pink skirt so nothing caught, kicking her legs to and fro, leaning in to whisper comparatively. "I bet you've done the same."

"I don't think so miss!" She could practically hear the blush in those words, making her want to giggle like the naughty schoolgirl she'd been at one point.

"Gwyneth!" She chuckled a little, "You can tell me! I bet you've got your eye on someone."

"Well…" Success! Gwyneth turned back around, though there was still that timid look about her but she at least had the beginnings of a smile "I suppose…there is one lad. The butcher's boy, he comes by every Tuesday." And here it was like Rose was looking at a reflection of herself when looking at Gwyneth now: Starry eyed, a little sigh, and a dreamy smile. "Such a lovely smile on him."

"Oh I know all about a good smile." Rose nodded, smiling over the numerous pretty lads who'd flashed their pearly whites her way, Mickey not being the only one of the lot. Of course, where there was one, the other must follow. "Good smile. Nice bum."

And again she was pretty sure Gwyneth would have a heart attack. "Well I have never heard the like!" She exclaimed…five seconds before the pair of them descended into a bout of giggles that transcended all of time, that men of Rose's time categorised as 'women's scheming.'

"Ask him out!" Rose urged after their impromptu giggle session, "Give him a cup of tea or something, that's a start." Despite the fact that she'd been part of that whole kidnapping business, she found that she rather liked this Victorian maid. Talking to her felt almost…normal. As if she'd never left home in the first place and she was over at a friend's house exchanging gossip and not chasing leads on the big blue gas creature with Charles Dickens and a man who seemed far too cosy with her than should be allowed at this point in time.

Before she could go back down that trail of thought, Gwyneth's laughter at her supposedly absurd suggestion brought her back to her more relaxed subject. "I swear," She said jubilantly, "it is the strangest thing, miss. You've got all the clothes and the breeding but you talk like some sort of wild thing!"

That halted her for a moment, once again reminded of just how not normal this situation was. In her time, this was usually the part where everything dissolved into a pillow fight for ten minutes, but here it was clear that such concepts as just chatting to a bloke first if you were a woman was the thing whispered behind closed doors. But a wild thing?

"Well maybe I am," Rose pointed out, before taking the plunge and suggesting "maybe that's a good thing." And like that, the fun conversation was replaced with a seriousness that she wasn't all that familiar with dealing with yet. But still, she liked Gwyneth, felt like she was someone who deserved more than she was getting. She seemed to be wasting her life, her very potentially good life, in the service of a crotchety old man. "You need more in your life than just Mr Sneed."

"Ah now," the maid started, becoming a bit more reproachful, "that's not fair. He's not so bad, old Sneed. He was very kind to take me in, because I lost my mum and dad when I was twelve."

And now she felt properly guilty, "Oh, I'm sorry." Rose knew all about that. Her mum always got a bit teary eyed around this time of the month, because March had been the month her dad had died.

But Gwyneth, smiling again, simply waved her apologies off, "Thank you, Miss but it's all right." Her smile went to a bright beam now, "I'll be with them again, one day, sitting with them in paradise. I should be so blessed. They're waiting for me." She finished with an air of certainty.

There wasn't anything Rose could really say to that, her own opinions on religion being blurred at best. She'd never had much in the way of faith, though the idea that any one person had the power to create the universe all by himself had for a long time seemed laughable. Then she'd met the Doctor, seen the inside of the TARDIS, and gone to see her world end. After that, she really couldn't say what was possible.

If her silence bothered Gwyneth, she didn't say anything. She just smiled, adding on to her previous statement. "Maybe your dad's waiting up there for you too, Miss."

"Yeah…maybe…" As was stated, she never really had any proper belief in religion or afterlife or stuff like that…and that was when it hit her exactly what Gwyneth had said. "Who told you he was dead?"

The girl's eyes suddenly widened, as if catching what she'd said as well, and suddenly flicked back around, picking up the dish and stacking it away. "I don't know," she said, deceptively lightly, "must've been the Doctor."

Well yeah that would've made sense, if she'd even told him about what happened to her father. "My dad died years back." Right back when she'd still been a baby. She'd never gotten a chance to know him, to see what he was like. And she likely never would, time machine or no.

However, Gwyneth wasn't finished on the subject. "You've been thinking about him lately," she stated knowingly, "more than ever before I should think."

"I supposed so…" Now she was getting seriously worried. It was true that her father had been on her mind, like back on Platform One phoning her mother five billion years ago, not to mention the notion of a time machine that could go anywhere. What she would have given to just see him once, to know if all the stories her mum had told her as a child were true. But that took a sinister turn as she realised that, yet again, Gwyneth was telling her things that neither she, nor the Doctor, should know about. "How d'you know all this?"

The maid turned back, that look of scared realisation passing over her face again before hiding away under a knowledge-less smile. "Mr Sneed says I think too much," she supplied with a little shrug, "I'm all alone down here. I bet you've got dozens of servants, haven't you miss."

The return of a comfortable subject after the prior one sent Rose for a little bit of a loop, however she quickly covered with a smile and a laugh. "No, no servants where I'm from."

"And you've come such a long way…" the maid continued, no trace of her former mirth apparent on her face. She was just staring at Rose intently, her big eyes peering in as if trying to pluck some vital thing from her.

Once again, Rose found herself getting anxious, and for the first time since meeting this girl everything about her was telling her to run. "What makes you think so?" She asked, even though right now she wanted to be anywhere else but in the line of that intent gaze.

However, it was as if Gwyneth had her frozen in place as she took a step nearer, looking in and beyond her and all else. "You're from London." She stated confidently, "I've seen London in drawings but never like that. All those people rushing about…" the beginnings of a frown touched her brow before continuing, "half-naked, for shame. And the noise…and the metal boxes rushing past…"

Metal whats? Cars?! And suddenly Rose's anxiety was replaced with curiosity again as she listened to the girl before her ramble on about a world that was so very familiar to her. How does she know all of this? Is she getting it from me? Is she reading my mind?!

"And the birds in the sky" Gwyneth went on, before catching herself and picking up more "no they're metal as well. Metal birds with people in them. People are flying?" Her voice shook with a touch of her on fear at what she was talking about. She took another step towards Rose, who was now absolutely certain that the girl was somehow looking into her mind and seeing her world through her eyes…but how was she doing it? Gwyneth kept her from asking though as she spoke up again, true terror and awe in her tone "And you – you've flown so far, further than anyone and yet to fly further on! The Pandorica will open, silence will fall and you flying to meet it, carrying them with you…the things you've seen…the darkness…" There was a moment when she looked like she was going to stop before starting up again "The Thief…the Child…the Conduit…and…" Once more her tone lit itself with that unknown fear as she stared right at Rose before backing away in horror. "the big bad wolf!"

Her retreat though was cut short as she backed right into a stack of shelves storing plates, her back slamming against it causing the crockery to rattle loudly around them. And suddenly it was as if whatever hold Rose had on her was broken, and she was all set to run and find the Doctor when she suddenly caught Gwyneth's eye. She was still desperately terrified, but now her entire face showed it instead of just her eyes. It made her falter and she suddenly considered what she'd seen. Had Gwyneth done that on purpose? If so why did she suddenly look scared as well as sound it?

The maid in question was talking again, though now it wasn't the droning from before but her normal coherency bathed in terrified babbling. "I'm sorry! I'm very sorry Miss! I can't help it – ever since I was a little girl. Me' mam said I had the sight, she told me to hide it!"

"But it's getting stronger." The deep northern tone caught both girls unaware and they turned to face the shadowy figure of the Doctor standing in the doorway. He wasn't alone either, as Tahkaullus stood inside the kitchen to one side, arms folded, expression guarded as he stared at Gwyneth. From the look on his face, Rose had to wonder just how long he and the Doctor had been standing there listening in. Though where his stance was closed, the Doctor's was still open as he continued gently, "Your visions have been getting more precise, seeing more every time. Am I right?"

Gwyneth nodded, still incredibly shaky from her ordeal and his unnoticed entrance. "All the time sir. Every night," She waved at her temple "voices in my head."

"Not voices." Tahkaullus countered, "Echoes, of events and lives hundreds of years in either direction." He stepped forward, arms still folded. "And living on the rift for so long, having all of time and space blasted at you…you've become a part of it." For a moment, Rose thought she caught something flit across his face; a look of…understanding? Did he know what was happening to her?

Also, Gwyneth was nodding along to everything he was saying, leaning credit to that idea. "I've tried to make sense out of it, sir." She told him. "Consulted with spiritualists, table wrappers, all sorts."

"Well that should help." The Doctor spoke up from his position, not having moved in when Tahkaullus stepped towards her. "You can show us what to do."

Gwyneth wasn't the only one who was wondering what he was on about. Rose had been listening intently to the way Tahkaullus had been describing what the maid could see and how she could see it, all the while notably keeping his attention as far away from her as possible. And it seemed he too had come to the same conclusion that the Doctor had, though by the way he refrained from letting out a deep sigh she suspected what he had in mind was not exactly the most…'Spock' way to go about it.

He didn't disappoint when he told them all, eyes widening and voice filled with excitement, "We're gonna have a séance."

If she hadn't been leaning against the sink, Rose might have collapsed as she let out an exasperated snort. A séance? Speaking to ghosts is his master plan? Really? From the easy grin on the Doctor's face, as well as the eye-roll from Tahkaullus, that was exactly what he had planned. We are screwed.

Kaullus was indeed not looking at Rose…in fact he made a point to stay as far away from her as possible as the Doctor led them into the parlour where he'd already cleared away most of the outstanding chairs, leaving five circled around the wooden table that had been placed in the centre of the room. Hurt by the Doctor's subtle snub, he covered it up by snorting and grabbed another one, placing it firmly at the other end of the table. That makes both of them. He thought morosely as he slipped his coat off, putting it over the back of the chair.

Once the Doctor left the room to gather the rest of the household, the air took on a bit of awkwardness as Rose stayed beside Gwyneth, glancing his way every so often. He wouldn't have minded as much if he didn't know exactly what she was wondering right now. She wants to know if I can be trusted…if I'm even really on their side at all. Feeling that gut-punch that he'd gotten when she'd asked him flat out who he was, calling him by his full name nonetheless, Kaullus quickly averted his gaze, finding a very interesting spot on the table – an odd speck of dirt that Gwyneth must've missed the last time she cleaned it – and just looked at it.

I hate this…I absolutely hate this…He was on one of those ridiculous, out of the way, only-happens-once-a-century-or-so romps with two of the most important people in the world…and they knew absolutely nothing about him.

I only he could have been distracted from his thoughts as the Doctor brought Sneed and Dickens into the parlour. The Doctor saw him sitting down and snorted, "Can't take a hint can you?"

"Well considering all the mistakes you've made," he muttered at him bitterly, just barely audible, "I think it's a good thing I'm here."

And that was another thing; it didn't matter that they were still virtually strangers to each other, didn't matter that they didn't know him as well as they should, didn't matter even if they'd only met last week. He couldn't help but feel angry at the Doctor's blatant brushing off of Rose's capability – they'd always worked as a team, when one was missing the other faltered, Rose's kidnapping being proof of that. His registration in the Underworld may be Alpha-Omega, but it was those two who he considered the beginning and the end of each other. Should he have gone after her? Of course he should have! But he'd expected the Doctor to go with her and as such had stayed behind. And that got him angry at himself again…before that terrible yawning loss returned.

Here they were, both of them sitting down opposite each other, with Sneed on the Doctor's right, Dickens on Rose's left and Gwyneth sat between them which put her opposite him. They were all separated. And that made Kaullus nervous about what they were about to do.

A séance? What did the regeneration do to him this time? Younger really is less experienced. He'd spoken to ghosts himself, but it didn't require silly enchantments or a binding circle of power – those things had been abandoned by all but the Druids centuries ago – all you needed to do was locate one, walk up to them, stick out your hand and say 'hello.' Sighing, knowing that saying anything wouldn't get him anywhere in either of their books right now, he stayed mum on it. Instead he asked vocally, "Is this all that we need?"

Gwyneth took a brief look around, and if it already wasn't clear what they were doing was completely out of the ordinary to her, the expression on her face confirmed it as she sat down last between the Doctor and Rose. "Yes…this looks like the setup down at Madam Mortlock's down in Mid Town. She uses the circle of life-energy to summon those from the Lands of Mists. Come," she held out her hands, one of which the Doctor instantly took, Rose – thankfully looking somewhat sceptical but still open-minded – adding hers shortly after. Gwyneth's attention then turned to the remaining three not connected and explained "we must all join hands. Elsewise the energies cannot cycle completely –"

"I cannot be part of this." Dickens interrupted, undoubtedly his sense of reality rebelling against such a fantastical idea, and he pulled himself out of his seat. And at once Kaullus was torn; on the one hand he wanted to agree in sticking the idea in the mud, but on the other if this was the only way the Doctor would allow them to communicate with whoever was dangerously trying to push the rift open. And he had a few choice words for that lot. He was therefore mildly annoyed and at the same time relieved when the Doctor spoke up.

"Humbug!" He called out, "Come on, open mind." He nodded back at the chair for the distraught author to sit back down.

But Dickens was not about to back down from it this time. "This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I seek to unmask!" His gaze turned on Gwyneth, a look mixed with loathing and knowing pointed straight at her, "Séances?" He demanded pompously, scoffing at the possibility "Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This girl knows nothing."

Sighing once again, this time in annoyance, Kaullus looked up at him "I've told you to shut up once before." He chided. "I was sat down first, I saw Gwyneth sit down. She's not hiding anything from us."

But that just resulted in Dickens turning his ire on him. "There is often a cohort in these proceedings," he stated frostily, "the fraud need not contain the trickery if she has ensnared an accomplice."

Did he just call me a liar? Kaullus thought to himself furiously, a level of his depression turning back into anger, having had just about enough of Charles Dickens and his belief of knowing everything there was to know about the world. If he really knew what the real world contained, he'd never sleep a full night's worth again. There's so much he has yet to understand and he thinks his narrow concept of reality is all there is to know?! There's more to this world than just homo-bloody-sapiens! It astounded him. A couple of hours ago, he would have been thrilled to have met Charles Dickens the author in the flesh. But after a coach ride and coming right into contact with blue swirly intelligent non-humans – which Dickens then immediately shot down as a bloody illusion – he'd be happy to never have to deal with the man again.

Again though it was the Doctor that got things moving again. "Now, don't antagonise her." He chastised the author reproachfully, before smiling broadly again "I love a happy medium."

"I can't believe you just said that." Rose's words put into light exactly what Kaullus was thinking…though with less expletives. He was on the verge of shouting.

The Doctor however ignored them both and just turned to Dickens again "Come on," he nodded at the vacated chair again, urging him to sit back down "we might need you." There was no movement then for either party for a few seconds, Dickens just looking at him disbelievingly whilst the Doctor continued to indicate the chair, asking silently for him to join and see something new. And then finally, shock of all shocks, Dickens rejoined the circle, albeit seemingly rather reluctantly as he took Rose's other hand and promptly to Kaullus' right.

"Good man." The Doctor praised, before turning all his attention to the maid who was the main attraction in this crazy endeavour. "Now, Gwyneth," he addressed, his tone becoming business-like – something Kaullus suspected he'd have to get used to- "reach out."

The girl in question nodded briefly before letting out a tentative breath, and then looked towards the ceiling. "Speak to us…" she spoke nervously, conscious of all the eyes turning her way "are you there? Spirits?"

On that word, although others couldn't feel it, Kaullus suddenly felt a little tingling in his right hand. Glancing down he saw that no one else was looking his way, all looking at Gwyneth with varying degrees of belief and curiosity. But Kaullus was now curious in something else as he felt the tingle run up his arm from the right and down the left, passing through his hand into Sneed's and presumably onwards into the Doctor who he noted shivered a little bit. Maybe there really is something to this after all.

"Speak to us." Gwyneth said again, stronger this time even as Dickens rolled his eyes at her. "Come before us now." If anyone else could notice it, they would have felt the increased tingle running through their hands – something was already trying to reach back through the connection. "Spirits I beseech you, speak to us so that we may relieve you of your burde –" And then she cut off as the tingling began to feel like a proper charge, though only Kaullus and, it seemed, the Doctor could feel it, running through them at a mile a minute.

And then there it was, the whispering that always came before these strange creatures. Quiet at first, only Kaullus' ears allowing him to hear them, the voices began to grow in volume, though they still remained hushed and vulnerable…almost as if they were injured, which only served to further his distrust of whatever these creatures were. The deceitful tactic of garnering trust – pity – through pain was an old, tried, and true method of getting the sentimental ones on their side.

His gaze shot to Rose as she suddenly sat up a bit straighter, "Can you hear that?" She asked the rest of them, the voices having become audible to her.

"Nothing can happen!" Dickens insisted beside her "This is sheer folly."

"Look at her!" She retorted, just as insistently even as her attention was taken away by Gwyneth who was now sat rigid, head thrown back as something descended from around them.

"I see them…" She was whispering, her eyes skipping around in their sockets as the underlying current became a numbing sensation that rushed through Kaullus' body, too quick for him to register anymore. Gwyneth however still seemed euphoric as the gas creatures began to descend. "I feel them!"

In fact everyone was transpired by the spectacle as the blue apparitions began to take form and yet slip away at the same time. Even Dickens was captured by them. The murmuring however stayed, and Kaullus just made out a smidgeon of speech: 'connection failing.'

"What're they saying?" Rose asked, unable to hear them clearly.

It only took the Doctor a moment to understand what was wrong, "They can't get through the rift." Again he turned to Gwyneth with instructions. "Listen to me, it's not controlling you, you're controlling it. Now look deep, allow them through."

At this point though, Kaullus made a decision that he expected he'd probably regret later, but right now he didn't see any other option. Key to the rift or not, Gwyneth was still human with a human mind, not designed for longevity or the entirety of time and space running through her head. But the Doctor – or at least this Doctor considering what he'd seen so far – would probably keep her going until she either made a link or cracked under the pressure. But if he's so insistent…

"Gwyneth." He spoke up. "Don't try to grab it all at once, we don't want the universe ending on us."

The girl however still looked troubled, having the entirety of the rift suddenly connect with her. Not all that surprising I guess. Kaullus considered. It's like with Amy and the cracks, except Gwyneth can actually see and hear everything she's experiencing.

"We're just looking for a name, Gwyneth." He tried again. "Those voices in your head? Listen for them now."

A few brief moments passed by, and Kaullus was aware now that the people sat at the table were now alternating their gazes from Gwyneth to him and back again. Let them watch. He thought, sparing a moment to glance at the Doctor's suspicious stare and Rose's own confused one.

Shaking them away he focussed on the maid of the hour. "We're looking for a name." He told her "There's power in words and naming is amongst the most potent. Find the name and these creatures should respond."

"How d'you know that?" The Doctor asked, genuine curiosity colouring his tone for once this evening.

Shrugging, knowing he couldn't give away exactly how he knew what he knew, Kaullus just responded, with a little mischievous smirk "How d'you think?"

A sudden ripple in the circuit brought him back to Gwyneth though as he felt something, he couldn't tell what, change. The current running through him now felt stronger, more potent. As if something had latched on. "Gwyneth?" He asked carefully. "Have you found their name?"

For a moment it looked like she wouldn't reply, her head still pulled back. And then she began to bring it back down, a set look of concentration fixed onto her face. She looked him dead in the eye and said confidently and happily, "Yes."

As if her voicing her own triumph had the magic key to the lock, three gaseous figures erupted behind her. Unlike before, what had looked like blankets of indistinguishable cloud, Kaullus could now make out the outlines of a translucent body in these creatures. Though the lower half was still mostly wavy, from the chest up, they had a humanoid look to them, the one in front having long flowing blue hair that dissolved into the air behind it.

The occupants of the parlour all went slack jawed, most out of awe, one as he felt his whole constructed world collapse around him, and a final one out of sheer delight at seeing something new.

"Great God…" Sneed whispered, wide-eyed and slightly fearful, "spirits from the other side."

"The other side of the universe." The Doctor corrected, though his gaze never left the hovering gaseous beings before him.

"Pity us," The leader said, its voice high and youthful…vulnerable, "pity the Gelth. There is so little time, help us." It spoke quickly, as if there was some kind of cataclysm happening on its side of the rift.

As expected, its meek plea got the sympathy of the Doctor – whatever it was in his history that garnered such a self-hatred about him clearly still raw – and he immediately asked it, "What do you want us to do?"

"The rift" The creature answered hurriedly. "Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge."

"And why should we do that?" Kaullus asked sharply, ignoring the Doctor as he turned a heated glare his way, "Opening an incredibly volatile wound in the skin of the universe could have untold repercussions to this world. So tell me," it was hard to look menacing when both your hands were occupied, but he pulled it off none the less, his tone growing cold "what makes the Gelth so important?"

The Gelth leader regarded him for a moment, the flaring orbs that served as its eyes taking him in for a moment before continuing sorrowfully, "We are so very few. The last of our kind – we face extinction."

"Why?" The Doctor got in before Kaullus could interrogate further, "What happened?"

"Once we had a physical form like you." It said to him, regarding his corporeal body with what Kaullus could only guess was envy. But even his suspicions dropped a little bit when it added on "But then the war came."

Surprisingly it was Dickens who spoke next, faint and still disbelieving yet now there was a touch of inquisition in there as well. "War?" He asked the creature. "What war?"

"The Time War."

Three words. And looking around at the only two people he knew who could explain that to him told Kaullus all he needed to know. He'd always suspected the Doctor was running away from something, and it seemed the more he got to know his younger self the more he saw just what it was that was affecting him. There were times when he'd seen a look of unbridled fury hidden behind green – and sometimes brown – eyes as he dealt with his foes. A look, Kaullus was sure, that had crossed his own features more than once – the Purge had left its mark on him as well after all.

"You don't get to decide when and how your debt is paid!"

Those words, more than any, had helped him in learning just what this man, who would defy gods and devils themselves, was never ever going to forgive himself for, no matter what he, Rose or every other companion he'd met had tried to do otherwise.

And as such when the Doctor's shoulders hunched down, his brow furrowed and pensive, Kaullus wasn't surprised. The only new thing from this revelation was the name – he now had something to call that horrendous event.

Realising that he was zoning out, Kaullus quickly pulled himself back to the present in time to catch the Gelth telling its audience what had happened to them. "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 concluded, the tone in his voice suggesting that he was seriously considering what Kaullus really hoped the Gelth were not going to ask them to do.

But the pitiful voice, combined with the Doctor's own guilt – should've known that would be a problem – probably meant he would grant any request. "We want to stand tall." The Gelth leader whimpered, "To feel the sunlight, to live again. We need a physical form, and your dead are abandoned."

Oh they did not just suggest that! He had no trouble working with dead people…sort of – do vampires count as dead people? – but for a body to be animated by an alien presence, no trace of their former selves at all…it just made him a little bit squeamish. Not to mention they tried to smother Rose! That also went into account when it came to them.

"Their bodies go to waste," the Gelth reasoned urgently "give them to us!"

"But we can't!"

Yes! Thank you, voice of reason that is Rose Tyler! Kaullus had to keep himself from grinning in relief as she spoke up against their guest's plan.

The relief was short-lived however as the Doctor suddenly rounded on her. "Why not?" He demanded, intense stare on.

The stare alone caused her to falter, though she still tried to back her refusal up. "It's not…" She trailed off, that unsure look of hers as she tried to carry on "I mean, it's not…"

"Not decent?" The Doctor tried for her, mockingly and a bit patronisingly, which didn't make Kaullus feel any gladder to have it directed at the wrong person! "Not polite?" He carried on before growing stale serious again. "It could save their lives."

"And damn our own." Kaullus added, his own glare now pointed directly at the Doctor. What was the crazy Time Lord thinking? They knew next to nothing about these creatures and yet the Doctor was willing to give them free roam over the corpses? Free roam over the corpses of his planet?!

Whoa, that was a bit possessive…can one even own a planet?

"Open the rift!" The Gelth's repeated plea brought the three of them back to the blue creature that was now beginning to swirl away again. "Let the Gelth through – we're dying! Help us. Pity the Gelth!"

And then they were gone, like a lamp being switched off they faded away, sweeping out and back into the gas lamps. As for Gwyneth, the sudden loss of such a great power in her mind caught up with her mere seconds after the Gelth had vanished – she toppled forwards, her head hitting the table. The sudden collapse had Rose moving immediately out of her chair and to the maid's side. Thankfully she appeared to still be breathing and so Kaullus just left her to it.

"All true…" the mutterings of the man to his right brought Kaullus attention to Dickens. The man was white as one of his own ghosts, staring at the vacant air where once there had been floating phantasms speaking to them. His voice took on a mourning realisation as his eyes dropped to his hands which were still lying flat on the table. "It's all true."

Yeah, it's true. Kaullus thought grimly as he stood up and worked his way around the table to Gwyneth. He bent down and hauled the exhausted girl into his arms, carrying her bridle style out of the parlour and back to the living room, though not before he sent a very vicious glare the Doctor's way. And if you have your way…things might start getting a lot truer than that.

"You can't be serious!" Was the first thing out of Tahkaullus' mouth after the Doctor had laid out his plan.

But he just looked at him flatly, "I am completely serious." He told the redhead firmly. It was simple enough: Gwyneth opened the rift, the surviving Gelth came through, they drove the corpses until he got them offworld and found them a new planet. Bob's your uncle, they rebuilt their bodies all by themselves. So why was the man so vehement about all this when he gladly helped Gwyneth establish the link at all?

Rose had been against it, but then he expected that of her. She was just a human after all, hardly able to comprehend just how great a loss the Gelth had suffered, a loss that he had likely aided in causing. The Time War ruined thousands of species – the Time Lords, Daleks and the Nestene consciousness were just the ones he knew of – there had to be others who were now only clinging on by the skin of their teeth like the Gelth were right now. But the difference was that he could help the Gelth. He needed to.

It seemed though that Tahkaullus had his own ideas. "If you think opening up the rift is in any way a smart idea," he started, angry and clearly letting his emotions rule him "then maybe I should throw you in there as well!"

So that was what he was worried about, something as simple as stabilising a rift in space and time. "We've got her." He pointed at Gwyneth, still out cold on the couch where she'd been deposited, "She's part of the rift, we use her as a stabilising agent and the Gelth can enter through her."

"Leave her alone." Was the only response he got from Rose as she continued to fuss over the maid, mopping her forehead down with a damp rag she'd gotten from the kitchen.

And there was the other part of this silly problem: Rose was completely against Gwyneth being used as a part of his so-called 'bloody stupid scheme.' She was as bad with Tahkaullus' own decrying statements. Gwyneth would be fine, the Gelth were fine – all they needed of her was to complete the link in the rift and let them come through; harmless! Or…mostly harmless…harmless with some risk involved…harmless with a level of risk that he really shouldn't be asking of her, but what other course of action was there?! Could he just leave the Gelth to suffer in silence dying and alone like him?

No, was the answer to that question and so he would see this through. The animation of a few dead bodies was a small thing in the long term.

His mind made up, the Doctor leaned himself on a wall a little bit away from the rest of the group, nearer to Gwyneth and Rose. Much to his growing frustration, Tahkaullus was leaning on the opposite wall, arms folded, a frown on his young-looking face. Both of them looked in on Gwyneth just as she began to stir and open her eyes. It took her a moment to realise where she was and who was looking down at her before she began to fidget. She didn't get far though as Rose was quickly ushering her back down. "It's alright." She was telling her, "Just sleep."

"But my angels Miss." The maid insisted, pushing her way back up. "They came, didn't they? They need me?"

From the look on Tahkaullus face, the Doctor suspected he rather disliked the way Gwyneth called the Gelth 'angels.' Quite frankly he didn't like it much either…especially when you considered where the image of the angel came from. Nevertheless now wasn't the time to quibble over names, there were far more important things to address. "They do need you Gwyneth," he told her gently, "you're their only chance of survival."

"I've told you," Rose's head came snapping round angrily "leave her alone. She's exhausted and she's not fighting your battles." As quickly as she said that, she returned her attention to the maid in question, handing her a mug of something telling her to drink it.

Sighing the Doctor leaned his head back, frustration and annoyance at the sheer closed mindedness of some people gripping him all the more. It didn't help that Tahkaullus had turned a heated glare at him the moment he'd even started talking. What was his stake in it anyway? How did he even know about the rift?

Sneed distracted him from the growing mystery with a query. "Well what exactly did you say, Doctor?" He asked, waving his hand around the place where there once the Gelth had filled the room. "Explain it to me again. What are they?"

"Aliens." He replied simply.

"Like…foreigners you mean?" The undertaker tried again.

"Pretty foreign yeah," The Doctor pointed skyward, "from up there."

"Brecon?" Sneed asked, eyebrows going up at the thought of people from that area of Wales coming down to this part of the country.

Deciding to humour him, the Doctor nodded "Close. And they've been trying to get from Brecon to Cardiff but the road's blocked." Tahkaullus' description of the rift as an inter-dimensional highway was a decidedly good one, even though he'd never tell the man that. "Only a few can get through at a time, and even then they're weak. They can only test-drive the bodies for so long" he ignored the way Tahkaullus' eyes suddenly narrowed at his wording of what the Gelth did, steaming on "then they have to revert back to gas, and hide in the pipes."

"Which is why they need the girl." Charles supplied, though his voice was still hollow and a bit lost still coming down after realising just how much all he'd seen tonight was not an illusion.

None of which seemed to matter to Rose as she looked back at them both sharply. "They're not having her." The way she said it, you'd think that was the end of the discussion.

However, it was anything but. There was still so much more to be done. "She can help." The Doctor insisted. "Living on the rift, she's become part of it, she can open it up, make a bridge and let them through."

"And again, if you think that's a smart idea, I hear the void calling your name." Tahkaullus interjected, his posture hardly changing, but his voice having dropped a couple of decibels. "The rift isn't something you can open and close on a whim. Meddle with it like you seem to want to do and who knows what could happen. We don't even know these creatures."

"We don't need to kno-"

"And it disturbs me, Doctor," he interrupted before the Doctor could get going "that you're just going to go along with their requests just because they claim to be survivors from this time war."

Claim to be…?! Who would merely claim to be survivors of that horror? The Time War was, and forever would be, without a doubt, the most terrifying and gruesome conflict that the Doctor had ever been a part of. To use that conflict as a lie to get your way would not only be downright despicable, it would be an insult to all that was lost.

And anyway… "How could you possibly know?" The Doctor demanded of him, letting the anger that had started to build out a bit.

But Tahkaullus just remained calm, if not a bit vexed himself as he replied simply, "There are people in the universe that laugh at your mercy Doctor. It could be said to be your greatest weakness."

"And such incredible people they are," they were interrupted by Charles who was just chuntering around, still a bit lost in himself as he went over everything he'd seen tonight before plopping himself in a discarded chair. "Ghosts, that are not ghosts but beings from another world, who can only exist in our realm by inhabiting cadavers."

"And ripping a hole in the universe to get here." Tahkaullus added in, still calm but with that hint of anger in his voice that spoke of how against this plan he was. "Does anyone remember that bit, the bit where all of time and space could collapse?"

"Oh stop being so dramatic!" The Doctor finally snapped, having thoroughly had enough of the man for one evening. "Besides, the system's a good one. Use the bodies as a taxi service. It could work."

But that line just incensed Rose, as she left Gwyneth's side, standing up and getting in his face. "You can't just let them run around inside dead people!" She snapped, half angry, half horrified by his plan.

"Why not?" He asked, getting himself tired of everyone questioning his plan. "It's like recycling." Use the old bodies that nobody was using anymore and give them to the creatures that could inhabit them – creatures that were dying – until he could get them somewhere away from scared human eyes. Why was he the only person here who could see the benefit?

Benefits that clearly Rose wasn't about to understand as she went on. "It's just…wrong!" She shouted, "those bodies were living people! We should respect them, even in death."

"Picture it Doctor." Tahkaullus pitched in. "All your friends dead, every last one of them gone, never to return. All you have is their bodies to remember them by. Then somebody comes along, says 'can we borrow these? You're clearly not using them so why don't we put them to use.'" He scowled at his own words as he said them. "I don't know about you, but I'd get pretty angry at that."

It's not as if I like the plan! But what other option was there? Deciding to be blunt, the Doctor shoved off of the wall and turned his stare on Rose, seeing as she seemed to be the one with the problem. "Do you carry a donor card?"

But she stubbornly shook her head. "That's different," she insisted "that's-"

However he pounced first, "It is different, yeah," he snapped harshly "a different morality. Get used to it or go home." That shut her up…even if he knew that was a complete bluff he'd gotten his point across. And even if Rose had a point herself, donors having made the choice to give their bodies away for medicinal purposes after their death, he couldn't allow himself to be swayed. Not now, when this was the only option they had. Sighing, he carried on softly, "You heard what they said, time's short. I can't worry about a few corpses when the last of the Gelth could be dying."

But again, even if she was subdued, Rose still shook her head against him. "I don't care, they're not using her."

"And the rift is not opening." Tahkaullus added on.

The return of their third member of the discussion brought the Doctor over to face him, to which he snorted at the refusal. "And what'll you do to stop it?" He asked him, deceptively calm.

Tahkaullus, equally casually, pushed himself off of his wall, arms coming loose. "Would you like to find out?" He asked the Doctor, eyes locking with each other in a powerful battle of wills.

A battle that was broken by the meek voice of one household maid "Don't I get a say, Sirs, Miss?"

The three of them turned to look at Gwyneth who was now sat upright, looking between the three of them. She was still a bit pale but there was the beginning of the returning of colour to her cheeks, and she was regarding them all with a set look of her own determination in spite of the three of them arguing around her.

"Well…yeah," Rose nodded her admittance, though she quickly went on to add, "But you don't understand what's going on."

The maid laughed at that, wry and ironic "You would say that, Miss." She intoned, a bit aloof with a touch of bitterness, an emotion that the Doctor would not have before related to her. "Because that's very clear, inside your head, that you think I'm stupid."

"Hang on," Tahkaullus, ever to Rose's defence it seemed, leapt in, "now that's not fair."

"It's true though." Gwyneth replied, before looking at him with those same eyes that had stared into Rose in the kitchen earlier. "But you…you look at me and see danger. You fear what could come through me if I choose to help my angels." A frown marred her features and the Doctor suspected that she was delving further in…before suddenly pulling out again, whatever she'd seen going with her. "But here and now," she stated firmly, "I know my own mind. The angels need me, and by God's grace I shall face the peril."

The Doctor half expected Tahkaullus to fight her choice, could see it in his eyes as she spoke to him; a little voice inside his mind shouting at her, telling her 'don't do it!' And yet he stayed quiet, that little voice still shouting at her, but slowly fading into the background as grudging recognition won out. His surprise took backseat however as he felt his own unwanted respect for the man go up a bit more – not only was Tahkaullus unafraid to call him out, he was also willing to let others make their own decisions even if he really didn't like the choice they were about to make. So when Gwyneth asked him what she had to do, whereas before he would've simply gone right into her part of the plan, he chose instead to say, "You don't have to do anything."

Because she really didn't – Rose was right, Tahkaullus was right – this action wasn't one that he particularly wanted to do either but it all hinged on Gwyneth. If she chose not to help they'd just have to find another way. And she was determined to do what she could for her angels. "They've been singing to me since I was a child." She told him emphatically "Sent by my mum on holy mission. So tell me, what do I do?"

For a moment the Doctor regarded her, looking for any signs that she was just saying this to humour them or because she figured there was no other option. When all he found was readiness, he smiled and went on. "We need to find the rift," and not just any part of the rift but the part that was letting out the most power – dangerous, most likely, but the only place that could ensure the Gelth getting through.

"This house is on a weak spot," he continued, leaving them and returning to the parlour where Sneed and Charles had listened to their debate in silence "so there must be a spot that's weaker than any other. Mr Sneed," the undertaker jumped a bit before realising he was being addressed, "what's the weakest part of this house? The place where most of the ghosts have been seen?"

Sneed paled a bit as he considered for a moment just how many times he'd heard the stories about the ghosts in this house. After a moment he answered "That would be the morgue."

Huh. Okay so maybe it was a bit cliché, ghosts running about in morgues where there were so many dead people, but still those stories had to have started somewhere.

It seemed though that two people really did not like this part either. Three guesses who. The Doctor thought as he returned his attention to Rose and Tahkaullus, the latter sighing deeply, a hand pulling on his face as if he were trying to rip the whole thing off.

As for the former, she was shivering a bit. "No chance you were gonna say 'gazebo,' was there?" She asked ruefully, still looking a bit disgruntled by Gwyneth's choice.

And that was when he realised it; taking into account her terrified screams as she tried to get out of the chapel of rest, her absolute refusal against letting the Gelth drive around the dead, taking her shaking form that had only started after Sneed mentioned the morgue. The Doctor couldn't believe he'd missed something so obvious in this whole mess: Rose was necrophobic.

A/N: Ugh. Over ten thousand words in this one, not counting these notes.
Sorry that it's taken so long but the last week's been a bit hectic. There've been all sorts of arranging stuff and moving around. I just got settled into my new place on campus at uni yesterday.
I'm not really sure how this chapter came out. Kaullus felt like he slipped a bit into a Gary Stu-esque personality. I just couldn't figure out what to do with him other than have the opinion that opening the rift, using any method, was a bad idea. This is actually something that I was thinking as well when I re-watched 'Unquiet Dead.' It's surprising that the Doctor himself didn't take that into account; surely the rift is too dangerous to just casually open – we all saw what it could do in 'Boom Town', ooh that'll be fun – so surely he knows what could happen. My guess is he was too wrapped up in his guilt over the Time War to care or think about it.
On the plus side, the Doctor's now aware of Rose's fear of corpses! He gets there in the end doesn't he?
Anyway, poll's still up. Vote or be exterminated. You know the drill.