The Web of Time

by Shadow of the Fire Bird

A bizarre tale that chronicles a voyaging Doctor, his travels across the universe, and his ever changing relationship with the one person who could never leave him (All Doctors X OC)

14. The Reign of Terror

Chapter 14: The Reign of Terror

---

Terna didn't really know what to expect.

The Doctor had suddenly declared he was going to take Ian and Barbara home after the former made a flip remark about his inability to control the TARDIS. This was the first time the Time Lord had officially attempted to guide his craft back to the two humans' time period.

The Lyall couldn't help but wonder if he would actually be able to pull it off.

The Doctor seemed to think so.

"There we are: home," he declared as he went through the serious of now familiar motions that initiated the TARDIS landing protocols.

The machine landed with an unceremonious 'thump' before going silent.

Ian and Barbara exchanged a glance.
"Doctor, we-" the latter started, but the Doctor cut her off.

"It's all right; Chesterton made your position quite clear," he declared, "Now, I have some work to do."

"Grandfather, please," Susan urged.

"Hush, child. Say your goodbyes," the Doctor asserted, "And remember, we shall be leaving almost immediately."

"Do you have to be in such a hurry?" Ian demanded.

"Enough time has been wasted bringing you back, young man," the Doctor declared, "I have the universe to explore."

"And my people to find," Terna added, "But are you absolutely certain you've brought them back to their time, Doctor?"

"Certain?" the Doctor snapped indignantly, "Of course I am! I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

Terna gave him a knowing glare, obviously calling his potential bluff, but Susan drew her attention as she grabbed her arm.

"Must they go?" Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she looked at Terna willfully.

Barbara smiled sadly at her, "Susan, we've visited many places together, had lots of adventures, but you always knew we intended to return home when we could."

Susan bit her lip, "Yes, I know, but-"

"Look, I know it's hard to say goodbye," Terna tried to comfort her, putting an arm around her shoulder, "But one day you'll understand why they had to."

"But Grandfather can bring them back any time now," Susan protested.

"Don't you see, Susan? The longer we leave it, the harder it'll be," Ian explained.

Susan whimpered, looking to be on the verge of bursting into tears. Despite their differences in age and species, these two humans had been her beloved teachers once and her friends soon after, one could hardly go through all the misadventures they had together and not form some sort of connection.

But Ian was right, she supposed, they did have to leave eventually, and delaying it would only make it more difficult.

The young Time Lady squeezed her eyes shut, balling her fists, before rushing forward and hugging both Ian and Barbara and then rushing out of the room.

Ian and Barbara looked at one another, and Terna noted that they probably felt quite similar to Susan, torn somewhere between what they wanted and what they needed to happen.

Perhaps they too had somewhat grown fond of the old police box in the junkyard, and the people they'd fond in it.

"Hmm. Still here?" the Doctor remarked.

"Yes, we're waiting for you to carry out the checks," Ian replied defensively.

"Quite unnecessary," the Doctor declared, "I already told you I am certain of our location; if you doubt me: take a look for yourselves."

He then promptly switched on the scanner to reveal an image of an open grassy field; it was late evening, the sky was a deep, starless black. There wasn't a soul around.

"Perhaps that will satisfy you," the Doctor stated.

"Mmm. It could be, I suppose," Babrara mused.

"Kinda hard to tell," Terna added.

The Doctor looked miffed, "Obviously you're still in doubt. Let us take a longer look, through the trees, hmm?" He adjusted the scanner.

"Ian, look. Fields, crops; it's fully cultivated," Barbara exclaimed

"Yes. Pity it's so dark. I can't see a sign of any buildings," Ian added.

"You know, it reminds me of a holiday I once took in Somerset," Barbara remarked.

"Then I expect it is Somerset, my dear," the Doctor declared, "Well, if you're going, be off with you."

Ian glanced warily at the scanner screen, "Look Doctor, I think it'd be better if you came with us: at least to explore."

"It's out of the question. I refuse to leave the ship," the Doctor asserted firmly.

"Maybe you have succeeded; maybe we are where you say we are," Ian stated, "But I remember an occasion when you took us home once before."

"Yes, and we met Marco Polo," Terna mused.

"Entirely different circumstances!" the Doctor cried, "I'm rather tired of your insinuations that I am not master of this craft. Oh, I admit, it did develop a fault, a minor fault, on one occasion," he faltered, "Perhaps twice, but nothing I couldn't control."

"I know that. Of course you're in control. You're always in control, and I'm sure you could revisit us at any time," Ian declared.

Terna, who'd been silently watching the whole exchange, raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of tune.

"Very simple. Quite simple," the Doctor agreed.

"Exactly, quite simple," Ian agreed, "But you have your important researches to complete; you may not find the time. There's a chance that we won't meet again. Don't you think it would be better if we parted under more friendly circumstances, say over a drink?" he smiled wryly.

The Doctor seemed to consider this; Terna had to stifle a laugh, realizing what the human man was trying to do.

The Doctor paused, seemingly turning over Ian's proposition. "Yes. Yes, well perhaps, since you put it that way, an hour or two won't come amiss," he finally agreed, "Susan!" he called into the hall. Bring my stick will you?

"Yes, Grandfather?" the young Time Lady reappeared in the Console Room almost instantly.

"We're going to see Ian and Barbara back home safely," he informed her, "Bring my walking stick. Terna, you're coming to."

"I am?"

"Yes, I'm not about to leave you here to your own devices," the Doctor declared, "You might break something."

"You don't need my help for that," Terna remarked smugly.

The Doctor scowled at her just as Susan reappeared with his cane.
"Well, let's be off; the night grows dark," the Doctor announced before pulling the switch that opened the door, and they all stepped out into the night.

The clearing was nearly pitch black, and the air stagnant with heat.

The Doctor locked the TARDIS as the others looked about their surroundings.

"Well?" he demanded impatiently.

"Well, those crops suggest a manor or farmhouse," Barbara inferred, pointing to the neat rows of growing wheat lining the horizon, "It should be reasonably close."

"It's very warm, isn't it?" Susan observed, "It must be summertime."

"Why aren't there any lights?" Terna asked, switching on her own transformed Omni-Vice, "I got the impression your era was full of them."

"That's a point," Ian agreed, "Its dusk, and we've got a very good view from here."

'Well, towns and villages can be well-spaced, even in England," Babara reminded him.

"Are we going to stand here talking all night, hmm?" the Doctor demanded.

Before anyone could respond, a distinct rustling was heard coming from the bushes lining the clearing's edge.

Susan whimpered and grabbed Terna's arm.

"Oh, relax," the Lyall exclaimed, "It was probably a fox."

"Maybe. I'll go check," Ian declared before silently slipping over towards the spot where the noise had originated.

"Be careful, Ian," Susan whispered.

The human man leaned cautiously forward, squinting into the dark treeline for any signs of the potential source of the noise.

"Do you see anything?" Barbara inquired.

"No." Ian replied before moving further into the thicket, disappearing into the shadowed trees.

"What's he doing; he won't be able to see," Terna exclaimed sharply.

"And you're probably right anyways," the Doctor declared, "It's most likely just some kind of woodland animal, like a rabbit or something. Do you know, Chesterton's getting quite jumpy these days? Young men like him shouldn't suffer from nerves."

"Can you really blame him?" Barbara grumbled.

"Well, that rabbit of yours is putting up quite a fight," Ian suddenly announced, stepping back into the clearing.

Everyone gasped to see that he was holding a young boy by the scruff of the neck; the child appeared human with a thin, wirey build, stringy dark hair, and filthy, mud-splattered clothes.

"Ian, you're hurting him!" Barbara exclaimed as the boy twisted in his grasp.

"Oh, no, I'm not," Ian asserted through gritted teeth.

The boy kicked him hard in the shin, causing Ian to buckle over with a grunt of pain. The child then tried to make a break for the trees, but the Doctor stepped in front of him to stop him.

"Come here, my boy. Where are we? Where do you live, hmm?" he demanded of him.

The boy gaped mutely at him, his pale eyes wide in the darkness.

"Grandfather, you're frightening him," Susan chastised, before putting a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "We're your friends. Don't be afraid," she assured him.

"Look at him; he's absolutely terrified," Babara observed.

"Yes. Of us, or of something else?" Ian wondered aloud.

"Come along, answer my questions, boy," the Doctor snapped impatiently.

The boy whimpered, "Please, I've done nothing."

"We're not going to hurt you," Terna reassured him.

"Speak for yourself," Ian grumbled, still nursing a sore leg.

"No of course, we're not," Babara added, shooting him a glare, "Look, we've lost our way and we need you help. This is England, isn't it?"

The boy looked confused, "England? No, France."

Ian looked shocked, "France? Well, how far from Paris?"

"Not far. Twelve kilometres."

"Oh, that's something, I suppose." Ian still looked disappointed.

"`Paris, eh? A hundred miles or so either way is to be expected," the Doctor mused aloud, "After all, it's only a fraction of the distance we've covered. It's quite accurate, in fact."

"Yes. Assuming the distance is your only error," Terna remarked with a smirk.

"You know, Doctor, I have a feeling you've been building up our hopes again," Ian added grimly.

"Oh, nonsense," the Doctor asserted, "Let's have a word with the boy. Now look here, my boy-" He turned around only to find the spot the boy had been standing in to be quite vacant.

Ian grimaced. "We lost him."

"You don't say," the Doctor spat sarcastically.

"There's no hope in going after him," the other man added, "Probably knows these woods like the back of his hand."

"Not that big of a loss," Terna declared, "There's bound to be someone at the farmhouse on the other side of the treeline. We can always look to them for information."

"A good idea, Terna," the Doctor agreed, "Come on; let's be off."

"You don't think I could get a chance to change first?" Terna added, holding up the sleeves of her slightly sullied abaya dress.

"You look fine," the Doctor replied dismissevly, "Now, make haste. Terna, you go in front with your light."

Sighing dramatically, the Lyal obliged,

As Ian, Barbara, and Susan followed them into the trees, the latter whispered to the other two, "I wonder why that boy was so afraid."

()()()

The small group, guided by Terna's torchlight, eventually broke free of the dark trees and out into a second clearing where a farmhouse stood. Or rather, what remained of it; the building was old and heavy with wear and tear, hardly able to stand up on its own structure much less support anyone potentially living inside it.

"What do you make of it, Barbara?" Ian inquired of her, knowing her historical knowledge would allow her to make some kind of assessment.

"Well, it looks deserted," the human woman declared, "You know, I'm certain we're sometime in the past."

"Well, we were a hundred miles out, perhaps we're a hundred years out as well," Terna remarked, trailing the flashlight over the face of the house, displaying crumbling stone and rotting wood

"Oh, rubbish, rubbish," the Doctor scoffed.

"Well, it's possible," the Lyall asserted.

"You know, I think we ought to get back to the ship while we still can," Ian declared.

"Nonsense," the Doctor retorted, "It was your idea to explore, anyway. Besides, this might be very interesting. The walk will do us good."

With that, he turned and marched towards the door of the farmhouse, Terna and Susan hurrying to catch up.

"Come on, you two. You don't want to be lost in the dark," the young Time Lady called back to the two humans.

'Don't worry, we're right behind you," Ian called back as they headed through the gate; he turned to Barbara.

"Well, we're still not home," she said.

"No, we're not, are we?" Ian sighed, "Still, I do think he tried this time, even if it was out of bad temper."

"So we stay with the ship," Barbara declared.

"Yes. Cheered Susan up, hasn't it?" Ian replied with a grin.

"Well, are you disappointed?"

Ian look thoughtful, "Funny enough, no. I don't know. Depends on where we are; I still could be."

"Ian! Barbara!" Susan called from inside the farmyard.

"Come on, you two. Don't want the wolves to get you," Terna added.

Ian turned to Barbara, "Cheerful as always, isn't she?"

"Well, we'd better join the others," the other human declared before they both hurried through the gate.

They entered a dismal little courtyard full of straw, mud, and old animal droppings; a dilapidated chicken coop rested against the far wall and several buckets, shovels, and spades were strewn about the ground.

Ian strode across the yard over to the Doctor and Terna, who are standing by the house, examining the exterior.

"It looks uninhabited. Do you suppose we can get in?" Terna was saying as he approached them.

"What are you two looking at?" the human man asked.

"I'm not looking at anything," the Doctor replied. "Terna, take a look through there, will you? I think your eyes are sharper than mine," he added to the Lyall.

"I know they are, Doctor," she replied. The Doctor scowled at her as she climbed up onto an overturned bucket so as to be eyelevel with the filthy window, "Mm, everything's strewn about and abandoned; I don't think anyone's lived here for years."

"Well, then there shall be no consequence to us looking around," the Doctor declared, moving over to the door. He grasped the rusty knob, and it turned with a slight creak, "We're in luck. The door's unlocked."

He pulled it open to a shower of dust and the ripe smell of mildew. Terna sneezed violently as Ian stepped forward, trying to get a better look inside.

He looked to the Doctor, who shrugged. Without another word, the two men cautiously moved inside the house with Terna not far behind.

The air is the house is suffocating: baking in the summer heat and rot of underkeep. Cobwebs dangle from the ceiling and dust lines the floor like a grey carpet. Terna continues to sneeze over and over into her handkerchief while the Doctor and Ian examine what appears to have once been a kitchen: there's a rusted antique stove in the corner and a table of rotten wood in the middle of the room.

However, Ian raised an eyebrow when he spotted two gold candlesticks conspicuously sitting on the table. They were shined and polish with their wax dried in drips and the whicks curled down as though they'd recently been light. They were the only thing in the house that seemed to not have been touched by time or neglect.

Curiously, he strode over to the table and picked them up, examining them closely.

As he did so, the Doctor turned to Terna, "I'll take upstairs, and you and Ian search down here."

"All right."

"What are we looking for exactly?" Ian asked.

"Oh, anything of interest," the Doctor replied dismissevly as he took one of the candlesticks from him and headed upstairs, the steps creaking heavily under his feet as he went.

At that moment, Barbara and Susan came in from outside.
"Where's the Doctor?" the former inquired.

"He's gone upstairs," Ian replied, "Look at this. What do you think a candlestick like that's doing in a place like this?" he added, holding out said object to her.

Barbara shook her head in bewilderment, "I don't know."

Terna, who had been fishing around in a cabinet by the stove held up a small object, "Here's a tinderbox." She opened it and struck a match on the sole of her shoe, "Candle's burn brightest in the dark," she mused as she passes the flame to Ian, who lights the candles.

"Look at this!" Susan cried from over in the corner where she'd found a large wooden chest.

Terna and Barbara went over to her to see that the chest she found was full of clothes.
"Hey, these are eighteenth century," Barbara exclaimed as she crouched down beside Susan to examine the clothing more closely.

"Is that relevant?" Terna asked.

"I suppose it might be," the other woman replied.

"Well, never mind that. I need a new dress anyways," Terna declared, dropping to one knee and began going through the clothes.

"Look at this one!" Susan said to her, beaming as she held up a dress that was a beautiful periwinkle blue.

"There's a whole wardrobe here," Barbara observed, going through the piles of coats, shirts, breeches, shoes, dresses, and petticoats, "They're all different sizes too."

"Look at these bundles," Ian called, producing a cluster of oil-skin wrapped parcels from under the table, "Bottles of wine. Bread. A bit stale," he continued, opening the parcels and laying the food out on the table.

"There's another bundle over here," Barbara added, reaching behind the box, "Hey, look at all these maps." She pulled out a role of yellowed parchement and unfolded it to examine it more closely.

"There's a whole bunch of daggers down here," Terna called, pulling out a satchel of knives from the bottom of the chest; they were all new and freshly sharpened.

Ian unfolded a pile of papers he'd found alongside the parcels of food, "These documents…they're official documents: undated and the name is left blank. They're passes, Barbara."

"Yes, but nobody lives here. I mean, look at the dust everywhere."

"This is a stopping-off place," Ian surmised, "A link in some escape chain. Here, look at this." He passed the papers to her.

Barbara examined it closely, her eyes widened. "Ian, this is signed by Robespierre!"

Ian gaped, snatching the papers back from her, "Robespierre? Must be a-" he faltered. "Oh, wait a minute, the Doctor's put us down right in the middle of the French Revolution."

Terna grimaced, "A Revolution? I don't like the sound of that."

Barbara nodded gravely, "Your intuition serves you well; this era was known as the Reign of Terror."

Now that they had confirmed their location, Barbara deduced it was best to borrow some of the clothes from the chest so as to better blend in with their surroundings.

While the women fumbled with the clothes, Ian went over to the stores, noting the Doctor's rather lengthy absence. "Doctor? Doctor?" he called.
"Oh let him alone and get dressed, human," Terna said to him, shoving some masculine 18th century attire into his arms.

"Here, Terna, naturally you get the blue one," Susan called to her, holding up said dress.

"Thanks." Taking the garment, the Lyall stepped into a side room to get changed just as Barbara came out in a canary yellow gown.

"How do I look?" she asked Ian.

He grinned, "Very pretty, mademoiselle. Hairstyle's a bit modern, but it's all right. It was a good idea to change into these clothes," he added, "We won't look so conspicuous when we go back to the ship."

"We might not get back to the ship if Grandfather hears we're in the Reign of Terror," Susan piped.

"Why not?" Ian asked.

"It's his favorite period in the history of Earth," Susan replied.

Terna overheard this as she comes back into the room, now decked out in era-appropriate attire. "Figures," she grumbled.

"What on Earth's he doing up there?" Ian added, glancing once again at the stairs, "Come on," he added to Terna, "Let's go find him."

They are about to do, but a voice suddenly calls out sharply from across the room.
"Don't move."

The group all whirled around to see two men standing in the doorway, both holding pistols.

The taller of the two, who is a dark haired man with a rather handsome face gestures to Ian, who is still holding one of the candlesticks. "Please put that on the table."

Ian begrudgingly obliged. Terna, meanwhile, attempted to dive into her pocket for her Omni-Vice.

"I said don't move!" the second man, who was shorter and lighter-haired then his companion, thundered, pointing his gun directly at her.

The Lyall froze, although her glare never wavered.

"Thank you. What are you doing here?" the first man asked.

"Don't waste time, Rouvray," the second man snapped, "Kill them. They're after us."

"I think not," the first man, Rouvray, asserted, "But I would advise you to answer the question," he added to the group.

"We're travelers," Barbara replied.

"We only stopped here until we could find our way," Susan added.

Rouvray arched an eyebrow, "At a deserted house?"

"You're one to talk," Terna remarked.

"You'll gain nothing by this questioning," the second man cried, "We should be moving on!"

"Patience, D'Argenson," Rouvray chided, "Even in these troubled times our visitors have the right of an explanation, even if our enemies do not accord such privileges."

"We're not your enemies," Ian declared, "We are what we say we are: travelers."

Rouvray eyed him gravely, "When you entered our hideout, you entered our lives."

"What does that even mean?" Terna snapped impatiently.

"Silence!" D'Argenson thundered.

"Do you travel alone?" Rouvray inquired

Barbara swallowed slightly, "Yes."

D'Argenson rounded on Rouvray. "You see, they lie!"

"We found the old man upstairs," Rouvray informed the others, "Do not count on his assistance."

Susan paled, "What have you done with him?"

"At the moment he's safe," Rouvray replied calmly, "It was in your power to see that he came to no harm, but your answer proves that you do not speak truthfully. There is something you are concealing."

"It doesn't concern you," Ian insisted.

"We must be leaving now," D'Argenson almost implored of his companion, "The soldiers will have followed!"

Rouvray ignored the other man's pleas as he continued to address Ian and the others, "In France now there are only two sides: you're either with us or against us. Our sympathies are obvious; we want to know yours."

"We appreciate what you say, but we have no side," Barbara replied.

"We're not even French." Terna added

At this, Rouvray lowered his gun somewhat, despite D'Argenson still astutely having his own pistol trained on them, "A word of warning: if you intend to stay in France, you will have to choose."

D'Argenson had had enough, "We cannot trust them now!"

"If we are to escape from France, we must have faith," Rouvray asserted coldly, "If all people are incapable of our trust, we shall take the Terror with us."

"Where is my Grandfather?" Susan asked quietly.

Rouvray looked to her. "The old man? D'Argenson, go and bring him down."

D'Argenson opened his mouth most likely to argue when a sound of thundering hooves and footsteps made everyone freeze.

"Shh! Listen," Ian hissed as the sounds of movement came to a stop in front of the house. He slowly slipped over to the dust-covered window; peeling back one of the moth-eaten curtains, he caught a glimpseo of a crowd of armed man and horses emerging from the tree line and gathering in the courtyard.

"The soldiers! They've found us!" D'Argenson cried; his eyes widening in panic.

"Quiet," Rouvray snapped.

"But they'll take us to Paris, to the guillotine," D'Argenson insisted, his ravings become more panicked by the minute, "Rouvray, I can't, I can't let that happen. My whole family were executed, even my younger sister." His voice broke as he became nearly overwhelmed, "They came to the house while I was out and they dragged them away. Rouvray, we must go while we have the chance!"

He didn't get the chance; at that moment, in a flash of gold, Terna knocked his gun from his hand. It fell to the floor between them with a clatter. D'Argenson dove for it, but Terna got it first.
She held the gun before the two men, preparing to fire.
"Against the wall. Now!" she thundered, her blue eyes flashing brightly in the half-light.

D'Argenson twisted in steadily building panic, "Rouvray will shoot you!"

Terna remained unfazed, "I'm faster. Trust me. Wall. Now."

D'Argenson cursed fiercely between clenched teeth, but eventually relented, raising his arms as he moved back to stand against the far wall. Terna motioned for Rouvray to drop his weapon and do the same; he obliged and went to stand beside his comrade.

He looke to Ian, still peering out the window, "They will see us. Our only hope is to stay here and hide; they may pass."

"They're coming in," Ian replied gravely as the soldiers crossed the yard and began encircling the house, blocking off all chance of escape.

"It will be the guillotine for all of us!" D'Argenson wailed.

"Shut up and turn around!" Terna snapped at him. Both men did so as she bent down to retrieve Rouvray's gun. "Here, Ian; take this," she passed it to him.

Outside, the group can just make out the sounds of the soldiers talking amongst themselves.

"They're not coming in," Ian remarked.

"No. The intention is to break our nerve," Rouvray replied grimly.

"So they know we're here?" Tern asked.

He nodded. "We were warned to leave or face arrest and execution. Friends warn us, and friends denounce us."

"It seems the soldiers followed you," Ian observed, "Who knew you were taking this road?"

"Who indeed?" Rouvray laughed, but it was without humor, "It's difficult to have secrets these days."

Beside her, Susabn grabbed Terna's arm, "Terna, what about my Grandfather?"

Rouvray looked to her, "The old man? He's upstairs somewhere. D'Argenson? You dealt with him," he added to him.

D'Argenson made to move forward, but Terna trained her gun on him.
"Oh no, you stay there."

Ian put a hand on her shoulder, "I'll look after him; you go find the Doctor."

The Lyall begrudgingly relented. "Alright."

She lowers her gun and steps back, taking her eyes from D'Argenson for just a moment, but it's long enough for him to rush forward and knock her to the ground. Terna falls to the floor with a crash as the man bolts for the door.

"D'Argenson! Come back! You fool!" Rouvray called after him, but it was no use.

"Terna, are you alright?" Susan rushed over to her just as the Lyall sat up with a groan.

"Yeah," she replied groggily.

"D'Argenson!" Rouvray cried, rushing outside after his friend.

Through the window, the others can see both man enter the courtyard only to be immediately surrounded by the soldiesr.

"Sergeant! It's Rouvray," a Lieutenant calls to his subordinate.

The foot soldiers all train their guns on him. Despite his situation, Rouvray remained chillingly calm. "Don't move! And get away from that man."

"Take him!" the lieutenant ordered the soldiers.

They started forward, but Rouvray held up a hand to stop them. "You'll listen to me!" he commanded, stepping in front of D'Argenson.

The Lieutenant raisd an eyebrow, "So Rouvray, your voice still carries authority, even to my soldiers?"

Rouvray ignored him, gesturing to the soldier closest to him, "You. Come here. Give that to me." He took the musket from the soldier and threw it away before turning back to the lieutenant. "You can give them uniforms, Lieutenant, but they remain peasants underneath."

These words barely leave his lips before a gunshot rains out, and Rouvray goes rigid, falling like a stone.

D'Argenson screamed, and Susan nearly cried out, but Terna clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her while Barbara buried her face in Ian's shoulder. The human looked on, his face ashen.

Outside, D'Argenson tried to break from the ranks, but the soldiers surrounded him and grabbed hold of him. "Let's get the other one! Hold him! Hold him!" one of them called to the others.

Meanwhile, the Lieutenant dropped to one knee and checked Rouvray's body.
"A desperate attempt, and it very nearly worked," he mused.

He then gestures to the soldiers holding D'Argenson. They shoot him without another word, laughing and hollering gleefully as the second man falls into the mud beside his comrade.

Within the house, the group of time travelers stand rooted to the spot, frozen in complete shock of what they are witnessing.
Terna's hand curled into a fist. Those animals. Have they no shame?

The door suddenly flew open withn a bang, and the sergeant and lieutenant enter the kitchen, disarming Ian in a matter of seconds.
"My Sergeant was right," the Lieutenant sneered as he restrained him, "It did pay us to look in the house."

"We are not with those men," Ian insisted.

"Silence!" the Lieutenant thundered before turning to the Sergeant, "If any of them speak again without permission, shoot them."

The Sergeant nodded. "The bodies have been removed, Lieutenant. What about these?" he added.

"Outside," the Lieutenant commanded them sharply.

"I will not be ordered," Terna snapped.

"Shoot her," the Lieutenant called to the Sergeant.

"No!" Susan cried, rushing forward.

The Sergeant knocked her aside as he stepped up to Terna.
"You're a pretty thing," he sneered, reaching up to touch the side of her face, "Why don't you come quietly? I don't want to put a bullet in that lovely face."

Terna recoiled in disgust before spitting in his face. The Sergeant snarled in fury as he backhanded her across the face.

"It's the guillotine for you, wench," the Lieutenant declared. "Outside, all of you."

"Go on, you heard the Lieutenant, move!" the Sargeant added, shoving Barbara and Susan along.

The group was lead into the courtyard and bound hand in foot. Terna didn't get the chance to go for her Omni-Vice and the gun she'd stolen from D'Argenson was lying useless on the farmhouse floor.

The four travelers were all lined up against the back wall of the house. Terna caught a sight of Rouvray and D'Argenson's bodies lying in the mud. Her stomach twisted and her tied palms began to sweat. They were going to shoot her, her and Susan and the others, all of them.
Could she even die like this? Her old form was immortal, but this shell was very, very fragile. Terna squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't want to find out.

Beside her, Susan was trembling. Terna opened her eyes and moved against her restraints until she could just barely grasp the tip of Susan's finger, closing her thumb around it in the slightest of tender gestures.

The Sergeant stepped forward, "Load muskets!"

"We already have. Get out of the way," a soldier snapped.

"Stop!" the Lieutenant suddenly commanded, "We'll take them to Paris."

"No, we'll shoot them here," the Sergeant insisted.

"We've got the men we came for," the Lieutenant replied.

"Yes, and more. I say we kill them," the soldier that had spoken before asserted.

"Now listen, we also want credit for our additional prisoners," the Lieutenant reminded the others, "LeMaitre may not believe us if he doesn't see them for himself."

"That's true," the soldier admitted.

"And there may be a reward," the Lieutenant added.

The soldier turned to the Sergeant, "I suppose the lieutenant's right, perhaps there is a reward."

The Sergeant seemed to consider this before his face broke into a devious grin, "And besides, why should we do what Madame Guillotine can do so much better?"

"Let's take them to Paris," the soldier announced to the others, "To the guillotine!"

Some other soldiers moved forward and untie the prisoners' feet. Terna can't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

"Move!" one of them commanded, shoving her forward. Terna grunts in fury, grinding her teet as she tried to twist from her binds, but to no avail.

As Terna, Ian, Susan, and Barbara were lead away, the Sergeant held back, an idea coming to him. "Wait. We'll burn the house down!" he called to the rest of the men.

"No, don't!" Terna cried; she tried to rush forward, but the soldiers hold her back.

The Sergeant lit a tortch and threw it into the hay loft, while the others followed his example. Soon the house itself caught fire, the flames roaring up into the already stifling July air.

"Grandfather!" Susan screamed as the flames rose higher.

"Doctor! Doctor! I'll kill them. I swear I'll kill them!" Terna cried, continuing to twist in the soldiers' grips, trying desperately to break free.

"We have to go back. We have to!" Susan shrieked, tears pouring down her checks as one of the guards hoisted her off her feet and carried her away, kicking and screaming.

"Susan, there's nothing we can do," Barbara attempted to calm her down.

"What about Grandfather?" Susan sobbed.

"I'm sure he got out, Susan," Barbara soothed.

Ian dropped his eyes, "I hope so."

"Get moving!" a soldier barked.

As they moved away from the burning house, no one noticed the boy from before come out of the bushes.

Inside the farmhouse, the Doctor woke up to a room full of smoke and heat. He staggered to his feet and rushed over to the door, pounding against it only to find it locked.
"Hello! Hello!" he called desperately, "Can you hear me? Get me out!"

The smoke filled the room, and the roof began to fall in.

()()()

"Are we to be allowed to tell our story?" Barbara asked of the judge.

"Prisoners are not required to speak," the judge replied, rifling through a collection of papers, "I have the charges here: you were found in the house with Rouvray and D'Argenson and arrested by a platoon of soldiers. I am satisfied as to your guilt as being in the company of wanted traitors. The sentence: immediate execution!"

"This is absurd," Terna cried, "I demand the right to speak."

"You have no rights," the judge thundered, "You will be guillotined as soon as it can be arranged. Take them to the cells!"

The four new prisoners of the Concierge prison are lead down a dank, musty hallway by the head Jailer and another guard.

The former opened a door to a cell that contained another man lying restless and feverish on a cot in the corner. He shoved Ian inside the room.
"Stay back, by the wall," he ordered him.

"Ian!" Barbara tried to go to him, but the other guard held her back/

"Where are you taking him?" Susan demanded.

"You will stop this now!" Terna commanded, breaking free of her restraints and tackling the jailer to the ground.

"Get off me. Keep hold of her, can't you?" the Jailer snarled, throwing Terna off him and back into the hold of the other guard. He turned back to Ian, "I told you to stay back by the wall."

"Let go of me!" Terna cried, struggling against the other man. He pulled her back as she thrashed and kicked, "Let me go or I swear I'll cut your head off!" She managed to get a hand free and dove for the Omni-Vice in her dress pocket.

"Give me that!" the guard snatched it and tossed it out the window.

"No! You repulsive leech!" Terna elbowed him in the nose and he fell to the ground.

"Terna!" Susan called to her as the Lyall tried to run.

"Get over here, you!" the Jailer grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"Let go of me!" Terna tried to hit him.

The Jailer knocked her against the wall; she fell to the floor and he kicked her in the stomach. Terna cried out as she fell backward and down a flight of steps.

"Terna!" Susan raced down the steps and knelt down beside her as she sat up with a groan.

Barbara got between them and the Jailer, "Stop this!"

The Jailer regarded her smugly, his grime-covered face splits into a sinister grin, showing yellow teeth, "Ladies like you shouldn't be kept in this pig sty." He gestured to his belt, "'Course, I have the keys. It wouldn't be very difficult to leave a few doors open, now, would it?"

Barbara bit her lip, "No, of course not, but I couldn't pay you; I don't have any money."

"The soldiers in this place, they're nothing but peasants," the Jailer continued, taking a step closer to her, "Not fit company for an intelligent man like myself. Gets very lonely in here sometimes. Very lonely indeed. Now, if we were to be friends, eh?" He reached up to touch the side of her face.

Barbara recoiled and slapped him across the face.

The man jerked his head to the side with a grunt of pain. "You'll regret that! I promise you," he spat just as the guard came back over, rubbing his nose. "Here! Lock them away," he said to him.
The other man picked up a still winded Terna and grabbed Susan with his other arm, leading them over to the cell beside Ian's
"No, in there," the Jailer corrected him, pointing to the cell across the hall, "It's the cell I keep for my special guests."

The guard shoved Terna and Susan into the cell the Jailer had indicated, and he pushed Barbara in soon after.

The room is small and almost completely dark save for a small barred window several feet off the floor. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all made of rough, brown stone. There's straw on the floor and a cot attached to the far wall covered in filthy blankets.

The cells smelled awful, like rotting flesh.
Susan covered her nose, "The smell in here. Oh, it's terrible!"

The Jailer chuckled as he slammed the door behind him; the three women heard the sound of the key jiggling in the lock and then the heavy footsteps of him and the other guard walking away.

Terna glanced around the cell, her eyes blazing with fury, "This is awful. I'm a queen for God's sake! I can't think of anything more demoralizing." She collapsed onto the cot with a groan of frustration.

Barbara nodded, her pale lips pursed, "Yes, it reminds me of when we were prisoners before, in the prehistoric age."

"Don't remind me of that."

"Oh, yes. I remember," Susan added, "But there was one very important difference: Grandfather and Ian were with us then." She looked over to the window where rays of late-evening light could just be seen pouring through it. "I wish I could see where we were." She went over to the bunk and tried to stand on it, but she still wasn't tall enough to see. "Oh. You'll have to lift me up, Terna. Terna?"

Terna glanced up from where she'd been resting her head in her hands. "Sorry, my head's just bothering me; that guy really nailed me."

"Here, Susan; I'll help you," Barbara said to her.

Barbara lifted Susan up to the window.

Susan peered through the window, "I can't see very much down there; it's just a prison yard." She jumped down from cot and sat beside Terna, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, if only we knew where Grandfather was."

"He'd have gotten out of that house, Susan," Barbara reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I know he would've."

Terna looked at her, her expression grim, "I can only hope you're right, for all our sakes."

()()()

When the Doctor came to, he found himself lying against a tree with a horrible headache and a pain in his throat. "What? What's happened?" he groaned, grasping his head, "Where am I?"

"Here. Drink this, monsieur," a voice said to him.

The Doctor looked over in surprise to see the boy from before holding out a cup of water to him. "Oh, thank you," he took the cup and drained it in a single gulp; the cold water felt great running down his dry throat.

He looked around to see that he and the boy were alone in the forest cleaning, "Where are my friends, hmm?"

"The soldiers set fire to the farmhouse and took them to Paris, to the Conciergerie Prison," the boy replied, "They'll be locked up there before they go to the guillotine."

The Doctor dropped his drink, "What?! And you saw this?"

The boy nodded, "Oui, monsieur; they lead them down the road over yonder back to the city," he gestured behind him as he spoke, "They said they were all to be executed."

"Even little Susan?" the Doctor exclaimed, "But why not me?

"They took you for dead when the house caught fire."

"Hmm, I thought so too as a matter of fact," the Doctor mused, shivering as he recalled waking up trapped in a burning building, "So much smoke…I can't seem to remember how I managed to escape."

"I pulled you out, monsieur."

The Doctor gaped. "You did?"

"Oui."

The Time Lord grinned in spite of himself, "Oh, what a very brave boy."

"Are you feeling all right now, monsieur?" the boy inquired.

"Yes, I think so," the Doctor replied, "But what had happened that had caused my friends to be arrested?"

"There were two men hiding in the house; one of them knocked you over the head, then the soldiers came, and the two men were shot and your friends arrested."

"Oh, that's a tragic business."

"But you can still escape," the boy insisted, "My mother can give you some food; our farm isn't far away. Just over there." He pointed over towards the trees.

"And the road beyond it?" the Doctor inquired, "You mentioned it leads to Paris."

"Oui, it does, monsieur."

"Yes, well, I appreciate the offer, but I must rescue my friends," the Doctor declared, getting to his feet.

"But you mustn't do that, monsieur!" the boy insisted, grabbing his arm, "You'll be captured, sent to the guillotine."

"You saved me, my boy, so I must now rescue them," the Doctor reassured him, "Now you can understand that, can't you?"

"Yes," the boy hung his head, "I wish I could go with you, but since my father was taken away; he told me to look after my mother."

"Yes, yes, yes. Now, you're the head of the house," the Doctor smiled in understanding, "Yes, well, thank you. Thank you for everything. Oh, and what's your name?" he added.

"Jean-Pierre."

"I shall remember. Yes, Jean-Pierre," the Doctor saluted him as he turned to leave, "Au revoir, Monsieur Captain."

()()()

In their cell, Terna, Susan and Barbara pretended to be asleep when the Jailer looked in.

Barbara lifted her head as soon as she could hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, "He's going."

"Oh, what's the use?" Susan wailed, "We'll never get out of this dreadful place."

"Oh, you mustn't lose heart, Susan," Barbara tried to reassure her.

"I'm not going to fool myself," Susan mumbled.

"Well, think of the times we've been in trouble before," Terna reminded her, "We've always managed to get out of it in the end."

"Oh, we've been lucky," Susan asserted, "We can't go on being lucky; things catch up with you.

"I've never heard you talk like this before," Terna remarked, "You're usually so optimistic."

Susan dropped her eyes, "I want to know about Grandfather."

"You're not alone there," Terna admitted.

"I'm sure he's all right," Barbara insisted.

"You keep on saying that," Susan cried, "I just want to know, that's all."

"Look, we should try and get out of here," Barbara declared, "It hasn't always been luck, you know. We made our own opportunities. Didn't you notice that we came past the river to get here?"

"Oh, you're not going to dig your way out, are you?" Susan wailed.

"Well, why not?"

"Its solid stone," Susan reminded her.

Babara ignored her, moving over to the wall where she felt about the worn stone, "Hey, there's a damp patch in the wall here. Hmm. Maybe a sewer leading to the river."

"But what are we going to dig with?" Terna asked, "I don't have my Omni-Vice, they threw it out the window." She grimaced at the memory, "Damn, if I had that thing we'd be out of this cell by now."

"Well, there's gotta be something around here," Barbara insisted, "Just a crowbar of sorts, maybe not necessarily to dig our way out, but I might be able to lever up one of those stones with."

"Here. Get up a second, Susan," Terna urged the young Time Lady off the cot and then yanked up a worn cross-strut from the bedframe. "Use this." She handed it to Barbara.

Barbara nodded to her in thanks before turning to Susan, "Go over there and keep your eye open for the Jailer."

The young girl obliged while the two woman got to work levying a rock out from the wall. They'd just managed to get one of the looser of the stones from the wall when the Jailer and a guard walked by their cell leading along another prisoner.

"Shh!" Susan hissed to them.

"Put him in there," the Jailer ordered the guard, who shoved the battered man into the cell next to Ian's.

The Jailer looked towards the door to said room to see Ian looking out through the bars, "Tell your friend not to make so much noise; you'll give the place a bad name."

Ian stepped back from door and turned back towards his cell mate, who was still lying on the cot. He turned his milk white face, slick with sweat, towards him and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Ian," he whispered, "My side's hurting again."

The other man nodded in understanding as he knelt down beside him to examine his poorly wrapped wound. "The bleeding's stopped, Webster. You've lost a lot of blood."

The man, Webster, nodded. "As soon as we were arrested, we couldn't wait to pull the trigger." He choked, "Is there any more water?"

"Yes. Must be about the last of it," Ian replied, reaching for a small tin of water and holding it up to Webster's lips. "You know, I've looked this place over, and it isn't impossible to escape."

"It is for me, and you know it," Webster replied, choking somewhat on the water, "I'll never get up from here. Listen, you're an Englishman," he grabbed Ian's arm, his voice full of urgency, "You must help me."

"How?"

"One day soon, France will stop this madness and turn her full attention across the channel. We must be ready for that day," Webster explained, "There's a man in France, Englishman, working to that end. He will tell us when that day is near. Do you understand?"

"England at war with France? Yes, I know that."

"I was sent to bring this man home to England; the day nears that his information is important," his grip tightened on Ian's arm, his wide eyes shining in the half-light, "Find him, if you can. Try to escape. T-Try…P-Promise to find J-James Stirling, and send him h-home. P-Promise… Promise!

"Yes, yes. James Stirling," Ian reassured him, "Find James Stirling, and tell him to get back to England. He has important information. I understand, and I promise. Where shall I find him, Webster?"

"J-Jules Renan," Webster replied quietly.

"Jules Renan, yes."

"The s-sign of Le Ch-Chien Gris."

"Le Chien Gris."

Webster squeezed Ian's arm one last time before his grip went slack, and his eyes slipped closed.

()()()

The Doctor had been walking along the road to Paris for several hours; the sun was hot on the back of his neck, and his feet were beginning to ache without the aid of his cane. As he'd walked, he'd encountered no one for some time, but he eventually came across a small group of workmen digging at potholes along the dirt road, managed by an Overseer.

"Come on, put your backs into it!" the man called, "You can work faster than that."

"Good day, sir," the Doctor greeted him.

"Yes, it is," the Overseer replied. He was a large fellow with a big red face that sweat like a pig. He had a large gut and rather fine clothes for the era; his pockets bulged with the distinctive shapes of many gold coins.

"I wonder if you can assist me," the Doctor continued, "I'm bound for Paris. Am I still on the right road?"

"You are."

"Splendid. Splendid, I was beginning to have my doubts," the Doctor admitted, "I haven't seen a soul for hours."

"You've come a long way?" the Overseer inquired.

"Yes. Further than you would think."

"Get on with your work!" the Overseer turned to bark more orders at the men, all of whom looked thoroughly exhausted, smothered by the July heat. "Nobody told you to stop. I have to watch them all the time," he added to the Doctor. "I don't even know why they bother to put them to work. You know what I'd do with tax dodgers?"

"Oh, so they're not volunteers, eh?" the Doctor asked, somewhat uncomfortable.

"Volunteers? Ha! I have to watch them every second. I'm given a schedule: finish this section by tomorrow, they told me. And if I don't- ."

"Yes, quite a responsibility," the Doctor agreed hurriedly.

"But it'll be finished," the Overseer proclaimed, "Even if I have to drive every one of them into the ground."

"Yes, I see you believe in drastic measures, eh?" the Doctor replied knowingly.

"Now, put your backs into it. Look as if you mean it," the Overseer turned once more to yell at his men, all of whom just continued to somberly strike at the ground, "The sooner it's finished, the better it'll be for all of us."

"I'm sure you're very experienced at this job, my man," the Doctor commended, "But, as an impartial onlooker, I think I might have a bit of an advice to give you."

"Well, I'll listen to anything that'll get this job finished quickly," the Overseer replied.

"Well, if you were to expend your energy helping with the road, instead of bawling and shouting at them every few seconds, you might be able to get somewhere," the Doctor snapped before turning to leave, "Good day to you, sir!"

He'd barely taken a step before the man grabbed his shoulder, "I suppose you think you're very clever."

The Doctor smiled smugly, "Well, without any undue modesty, yes! Now, would you mind letting go of me?"

"Show me your papers, or something to prove your identity," the man snarled in response.

"I am not in the habit of-" the Doctor started, but the Overseer cut him off.

"I see. You can't prove your identity," he grinned deviously, "Have you paid your taxes?"
The Doctor didn't respond.
"No? Then perhaps you'd join the poor wretches and put your energy to better use. Give him a pick," he hollered over to the men.

One of them wordlessly shuffled over and handed the Time Lord a pick axe.

"Now get to work, skinny" the Overseer snarled, shoving the Doctor forward, "I shouldn't try to run away. Remember, I've got this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun.

"Common fellow," the Doctor grumbled. He was really happy his schoolmates from the Academy weren't here to see this.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work!" the Overseer snapped, "I'll complete that schedule yet."

Biting his tongue, the Doctor shoved his pick axe into the ground and began pulling up the dirt.

()()()

As the rays of pale sunlight bleeding through the bars of their cell grew longer and longer, Terna and Barbara continued to tear away at the soft mud that lay beyond the stone paving of the wall. Susan, meanwhile, kept watch by the door.

Despite how little time they'd been working, they'd actually made pretty good progress.

"Oh, I must rest; it's tearing my hands to pieces," Barbara exclaimed, rubbing at her red, blistered fingers.

"Well, shall I take over?" Terna offered.

"No, no. Your hands are worse than mine," Barbara asserted, noting that the Lyall's hands were actually bleeding.

"I wonder what Ian's doing," Susan mused from her spot by the door. She turned to the other two, "Barbara, I think I'll work; it'll take my mind off things."

"Alright," the human woman passed the young Time Lady the piece of metal from their bed. Susan walked over to the spot they'd been working on and made to strike at the damp stonework; however, she hit her hand instead.

"Ow!" Susan dropped the pipe and clasped at her hand, which was now a seething red.

"Oh, here: let me see," Terna offered, taking her hand and examining it thoroughly, "Don't worry, nothing's broken," she eventually deduced.

"Come on, we'll rest," Barbara urged them.

"I can't do it, Barbara," Susan whimpered.

"We'll start again later; we've make good progress," Barbara assured her, "We should be through soon."

"It takes so long," Susan exclaimed, "Still, we have done well, haven't we?"

"Someone's coming!" Terna suddenly cried, and Barbara quickly yanked the blankets off the cot and stuffed them into the hole they'd made in the wall.

A small door in the bottom of the door was thrust open with a loud creak, and the Jailer shoved a tray with three bowls on it through the slot, "There's your food. A waste if you ask me," he grunted, "What are they doing down there?" He gestured to the blankets.

"What?" Barbara played dumb.

"The blankets," the Jailer snapped impatiently, "I'm responsible for everything in the cells. Pick them up! It gets cold at night; you'll get no others."

Barbara relented, moving to pull them off the ground while Terna plopped down on the ground in front of the wall to keep the hole hidden.

Before the Jailer could say anything else, a voice suddenly called to him from across the hall. "Jailer!"

"Who's that?" Terna inquired.

"LeMaitre," the Jailer replied as though this was obvious.

"Jailer!"

"Coming, Citizen!" the Jailer called back before hurrying off.

()()()

LeMaitre, who was the warden of the prison, was a poised, dignified man with jet black hair and a clear expression. He stood in the middle of Ian's cell, the prisoner in question forced to stand facing the wall with his hands held over his head.
"How long has he been dead?" LeMaitre inquired of him.
No response, "I asked how long he's been dead."

"Several hours, Citizen," Ian replied, his face almost as pale as his deceased cellmate. An obvious response to him having just spent five hours alone in a prison cell with a dead body.

"Did he speak?

"No," Ian shook his head, "No, he didn't."

At that moment, the Jailer entered. LeMaitre gritted his teeth at the man's tardiness.
"Come with me," he said to him before sweeping out of the room, the Jailer lumbering after him, making sure to lock Ian's cell door securely behind him.

LeMaitre strode down to the end of the hall where the Jailer's office was; if you could even call it that, for it was really just a remodeled cell.

The Jailer followed him in, closing and locking the door behind them.

As soon as he'd done so, LeMaitre spun around to face him. "I'll ask you once more: did they talk to each other?"

"Well, they may have done so, Citizen, but, well…" the Jailer trailed off, wringing his hands nervously.

LeMaitre's eyes narrowed. "Just simply tell me if you heard their voices," he said, his voice thin from impatience.

"Yes. Well, yes, Citizen. I did," the Jailer admitted, "I don't know what they said, but I definitely heard them speak, but not for long."

LeMaitre considered his words. "Let me have the execution list," he finally ordered.

"At once, Citizen!" the Jailer replied, passing him the list.

LeMaitre examined it keenly. "The other prisoner in that cell, which one is he?"

"Ian Chesterton."

LeMaitre nodded before taking a quill and crossing off the name 'Ian Chesteron' from the list.

"Have the body removed from the cell," he concluded, putting the quill back in the ink well and handing the Jailer the list.

"Yes, Citizen."

()()()

Never in a million years did Terna think she'd put something in her mouth that had the same color and consistency as old paste. Barbara and Susan dug into their 'meal' with vigor as well.

"I was sure he'd discover that," Susan remarked, gesturing to the hole they'd made in the wall.

"Yes, so was I," Barbara agreed.

"Seems our luck's holding out yet," Terna declared, choking on a mouthful of food. She glanced down at it, "You know, I no idea how hungry I could be, or what I'd eat."

Susan nodded in agreement before setting her bowl down and getting to her feet, "I think I'll get back to work now."

"Oh no, it was my turn, Susan," Terna insisted, standing up as well.

"No, it's all right," Susan replied, grabbing the tool and heading over to the wall. However, as she bent down beside the hole, there was the distinct sound of many tiny shrieks echoing from the whole beyond.

Susan screamed and jumped back.
"What is it?" Barbara cried, rushing over to her.

"Rats!" Susan wailed, covering her face with her hands.

"Rats?" Barbara's own face went very white as she took a step back

"They must have smelt the food," Susan whimpered, "Barbara, Terna, there's rats down there."

Barbara tentatively rushed forward, stuffing the blankets into the hole they've made, thoroughly plugging it up.

Despite the threat now being averted, tears still pooled in Susan's eyes. Terna moved over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The young Time Lady turned and buried her face in her chest, much to the older woman's surprise, "Terna, I can't do it anymore," Susan sobbed, "I'm sorry. Not with those down there. I can't do it! I can't!"

Terna swallowed, attempting to comfort her. "They won't come in. Not now," she whispered, trailing her fingers through Susan's short black hair, "We won't do any more digging. We'll just stay where we are."

That is, until they come for us.

()()()

The Doctor's arms ached; he could barely raise his pick axe above his head. He's knees buckled under him and sweat trickled thickly down the side of his face. He paused to catch his breath and dabbed his brow with a handkerchief.
As he did so, he glanced over to the Overseer, who was sitting on a rock, tentatively counting the pile of gold coins he'd taken from his pockets.

"It's the tenth time he's counted his wealth," he remarked to another of the workers.

"He does it all the time," the man replied with a shrug, "Some of us thinks he likes money better than he likes himself."

"Do any of you have any money, hmm?" the Doctor asked him.

"Would we be here if we had?" the man answered, laughing without humor.

The Doctor grimaced, noting that probably was a stupid question. "You want to leave here, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but how?" the man demanded, "He never goes anywhere without that pistol, and he never turns his back."

"Well, do as I say," the Doctor replied simply, "Follow me."

He then put down his pick and pointed up into the sky as though he was referring to something important, the other man followed his finger with the same look of intrigue.
"Ah! Ah, ha! Yes, there it is," the Doctor exclaimed loudly, causing many of the other workers to halt in their digging and look towards them in bewilderment.

The Overseer saw them as well and instantly pocketed his coins as he stalked over to them. "What's this? What are you staring at?"

"We're waiting for the eclipse. Look," the Doctor replied, pointing in the direction of the sun.

The Overseer squinted up into the nearly unbearably bright light, unconvinced. "Eclipse?"

"He said the moon is going to pass in front of the sun at any moment," the other worker explained. "See! Look!" he pointed eagerly.

"Yes, you've heard about it, haven't you?" the Doctor asked the Overseer.

"Yes, yes. I've heard."

"It's quite a phenomenon, isn't it?" the Doctor asked.

"All right, all right," the man exclaimed forcefully, "We'll see it when it happens. Until then, get back to work. Now!"

As he spoke, the Doctor slipped his hand into the man's bulging pocket and pulled out a handful of the gold coins, quickly dropping them into the soil and covered them. As the Overseer began to walk away, he dropped to his knees and fished around in the dirt, pretending to find them again.

"Ah! Look!" he said loudly, jumping to his feet and holding the coin aloft, "Look at the coin!"

The Overseer whirled around, "What's wrong now?"

"I've just found this coin down there," the Doctor explained, "It must come from some hidden treasure."

"Treasure?" the other man scoffed, "More likely dropped by a passing traveler."

"No, no, definitely a hidden treasure," the Doctor insisted.

"Now where were you digging?" the man demanded, perking up slightly.

"Just there. Just there."

The Overseer shoved him aside and dropped to the ground, beginning to furiously dig into the dirt. "Here's another!" he cried, holding up a second coin.

"Catch his spade! Stop!" the Doctor ordered another man, who'd begun digging as well.

"Just stand back! It's nothing to do with you," the Overseer thundered, "I'll do the digging, and then it'll be mine. Now stand back."

Everyone obliged while the Doctor grabbed a shovel and whacked the Overseer on the back of the head. The man went rigid before falling face first into the dirt.

"Sacre bleu!" the other worker exclaimed; however he didn't stick around for long and neither did his companions as all the tax dodgers bolted from the spot in every direction.

The Doctor watched them go, a satisfied smirk on his face before turning to the unconscious Overseer, "Good day to you, sir! Pleasant dreams."

()()()

The door to the women's cell was flung open and the Jailer lumbered in.
"All right you three, come on out. Stand in line," he ordered him.

Slowly, the women reluctantly obliged, coming out of the foul-smelling cell and lining up in the hall.

"Where's Ian?" Susan demanded.

The Jailer chuckled, "Was that your friend? He was lucky: LeMaitre crossed him off the list." He motioned to two guards who bound their wrists, "You're not so fortunate. This batch for the guillotine! Take them away!"

()()()

The evening shadows stretched longer and longer as the sun sank further below the Conciergerie. Jean and Jules Renan stood crouched in the darkness pouring out from the dismal building. There was supposed to be one more execution scheduled for the day.

Jean shifted impatiently, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, "A tumbril should have passed by now, Jules."

"You must try and cultivate patience, my friend," Jules Renan replied, pulling slightly on his short black beard, "It will stand you in good stead."

"I will never get used to the waiting," Jean spat, "If only it wasn't so quiet."

"That's why we're here, Jean," Jules reminded him, "A crowded street and a successful rescue will never mix."

"I know, but it is late. Perhaps they've taken another route?"

"No, they'll come this way; they always do," Jules asserted, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready. How many soldiers do you think there'll be?"

"Five, maybe six." Jules seemed oddly relaxed about the idea.

"It's a pity Leon isn't with us today," Jean mused, "The odds would have been more favorable."

'Yes, I admit Leon would have been a great help, but don't forget we have surprise on our side. It is worth three men."

Jean looked towards the prison gates thoughtfully, "They must have left the prison later than usual."

()()()

Ian sat alone in his cell, feeling as though a huge cinderblock was crushing his chest. The Jailer came in after a time, carrying a bowl of mucky gruel on a tray.
"If you want some food, get back against the wall and stay there!" he barked.

Ian did so, albeit reluctantly; although, he had no intention to eat the food; his appetite had completely left him after watching Barbara, Susan, and Terna being lead to the guillotine through his cell window.

After putting the tray of food on the floor, the Jailer stepped back out of the cell and made ot relock the door.
"Jailer!" LeMaitre's sharp voice called out from down the hall.

The Jailer jumped. "Yes, Citizen? Yes?"

"Here. Immediately!" LeMaitre ordered.

"Coming. Coming, Citizen!" the Jailer scrambled, fumbling with the keys.

"Jailer!" LeMaitre's voice was getting more impatient by the minute.

The key has stuck in the lock, but the Jailer didn't have time to yank it free, with the way LeMaitre was yelling, he might be next for the guillotine if he didn't move quickly. Eventually, he decided to leave it where it is and rushed down the hall towards the warden's office.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" LeMaitre demanded once the Jailer had stumbled in.

"I'm sorry, Citizen, I came as fast as I could," the man explained breathlessly,
"I was busy with the food."

"Prison food is unimportant!" LeMaitre snapped, "You realize that Robespierre will be asking to see the execution figures?"

"I have them ready, Citizen," the Jailer asserted, fumbling with the papers as he produced a list from his pocket.

"I hope for your sake that they're satisfactory," LeMaitre declared darkly, snatching the papers from him and unfolded them to examine the list, "Otherwise, instead of being jailer here, you could find yourself a prisoner."

()()()

As Ian went to get his bowl, he paused to look through the bars of his door and noticed the keys were still in the lock. Cautiously, he reached through the bars and gently worked the keys out of the lock.
He then took his own cell key from the cluster and then, after some frantic struggling, managed to put the rest in the lock again. Finally, he sat down on the ground and grabbed his bowl of gruel, appetite somewhat restored.

()()()

"Good, good," LeMaitre was saying as he perused the list of executions.

"Thank you, Citizen, thank you," the Jailer bowed respectfully, "My only wish is to serve the cause to the best of my ability."

"Nevertheless, loyalty should not go unrewarded," LeMaitre remarked.

"Citizen, I seek no reward."

"That is as it should be, but I shall see to it that your name is mentioned in the right quarter," LeMaitre replied with a slight smile.

With that, the warden left; the Jailer looked after him, basking in his compliments before remembering the keys still stuck in the lock. Frantic, he raced down the hall to Ian's cell. Casting the man a suspicious glance, he removed the keys from the door, stuffed them into his pocket, and left.

()()()

Terna, Babrara, and Susan had been loaded onto a tumbril upon exiting the prison. The crude, topless carriage was to take them to the square where the guillotine was waiting. Terna wasn't entirely sure exactly what a guillotine was, but she could surmise well enough that it was some kind of execution device. Either way, if something didn't happen soon, she'd be dead by dark.

The tumbril moved along at a sickeningly slow place. Terna stood erect at the front of the carriage, hands tied together by ropes in front of her. Barbara stood beside her; her pale face barely concealing her fear. Susan, white as milk, was crying quietly beside her.
Wordlessly, Terna reached over and squeezed her hand.

Suddenly, the tumbril gave a great lurch as it came to a unexpected stop.

"Susan, Terna," Barbara hissed as the two guards at the front of the tumbril jumped down from the driver's seat and moved over to the horse pulling the car. "I think the horse has thrown a shoe. The moment they start to unhitch it, we'll make a run for it."

"I don't think I can, Barbara," Susan whimpered, "I don't feel very well."

"What? What's wrong?" Terna asked, gripping her arm and turning the girl towards her. Her wide eyes were bloodshot, and her face was slightly green.

"I-I don't know," Susan shook her head as she leaned heavily against her, "I just feel weak."

"Look, we'll help you," Barbara urged, grabbing her wrist, "But you must make an effort."

Susan nodded weakly. "All right. I'll do my best."

"Good." Barbara nodded astutely, "Now, as soon as they start to lead the horse away-."

She's cut off by the shrieking laughter coming from the upstairs window of a nearby house. The three women whirl around to see two French ladies cackling down at them from the second floor of their house.

"What are you laughing at, you damn broads?" Terna snarled.

"Ignore them, Terna," Barbara urged, "Susan, are you ready? Come on, now."

Susan made to move but staggered heavily, stumbling into Terna. "Oh, I can't! You two go without me."

"Don't be silly," Terna cried, struggling to keep her upright, "Come on! Pull yourself together!"

"Oh, my head's splitting, and my back's aching," Susan whimpered, tears of frustration and pain pooling in her eyes.

"All right, Susan. It's all right," Barbara tried to comfort her.

No sooner had she spoken, that the sound of two gunshots sang out. All three of the prisoners whirled around to see both of the guards in the front of the tumbril drop like stones as two men appeared out of the shadows.
The darker haired of the two shot the third guard on the back of the carriage before he had the chance to grab his own weapon.

"Come on," his sandy-haired companion called to them, jumping up onto the tumbril, cutting their binds and leading them off the carriage and away into the steadily growing darkness of the city.

()()()

As the sun continued to set, the Doctor entered a quaint little tailor shop that stood on a corner only a few streets over from the Conciergerie.

"Good evening, Citizen," the Tailor called to him.

"Good evening," the Doctor replied.

"I was just about to close my humble shop," the Tailor admitted, "But if I can be of service…"

"Yes, yes, very likely."

"Did you see the executions today, Citizen?" the Tailor inquired, coming around the counter and moving towards him.

The Doctor instinctively took a step back. "No. No, I didn't.

"I missed them too," the Tailor sounded disappointed, "Citizen Robespierre is doing a fine job, don't you think, hounding out the traitors?"

"Yes, splendid fellow," the Doctor replied distractedly, "You seem to be very interested in these traitors."

"I consider it my duty," the Tailor replied simply.

"Then perhaps you can confirm that newly arrested prisoners are taken to the, what is it, the Conciergerie Prison? Hmm?"

"That is correct, Citizen," the Tailor confirmed, "As a matter of fact, you can see the prison from the end of the street here."

The Doctor nodded as he moved over to peruse a rack of coats lining the walls. He paused to examine a large black garment.

"A wise choice, Citizen," the Tailor commended, "There is no finer set of apparel in all of Paris."

"Yes, I was thinking of something new along these lines," the Doctor agreed.

"It would certainly be more suitable than what you're wearing at present."

The Doctor scowled at the Tailor's remark but then noticed a red, white, and blue sash hanging on the rack. "That's very impressive."

"Yes, Citizen," the Tailor agreed, "It signifies the position of Regional Officer of the Provinces."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that," the Doctor replied. "Quite aware. Yes. In fact, it's a post that I myself personally occupy."

The Tailor was dumbstruck. "I see; I'm sorry, Citizen."

"Don't apologize," the Doctor waved his hand dismissively, "Now, I want to try that on." He gestured to the Regional Officer uniform.

"Certainly, Citizen. The quality is unmatched, and in comparison, the price."

"The price is of no matter," the Doctor replied simply, "I haven't any money."

The Tailor gaped. "No money?"

"No. No, I though possibly we could arrange an exchange." The Doctor took of his tailcoat and passed it to him.

The Tailor examined it, unimpressed. "For this?"

"What's wrong with it?" the Doctor demanded indignantly.

"Nay, it's little better than a fancy dress outfit."

"A fancy dress-?" the Doctor spluttered, "My dear sir, I doubt that you've seen a coat quite like it."

"I haven't," the Tailor admitted.

"Am I correct to assume that you're not interested?"

The Tailor shifted uncomfortably, "You realize there is not much call for a-"

"Have you had a similar coat like this in your shop?" the Doctor interrupted.

"Never."

"Then I can understand why there has been no call."

The Tailor fingered the coat again, "It is a heavy material, I grant you, and perhaps with a few alterations...You are offering the entire outfit?"

"Exactly. Of course."

"Yes, well, I shall require something else too," the Tailor declared, "Like that ring you're wearing, for example."

He pointed to the black stone ring that Doctor always wore on the ring finger of his right hand.

The Doctor fell silent, fingering the ring. His hesitation may have seemed fickle; however the ring was the only remaining object he had from his father. But his friends…his granddaughter.
Susan, Terna, they'd be dead soon if he didn't hurry, if they weren't dead already.

"You may have it," he finally agreed, "Providing you agree to let me have parchment and writing materials into the bargain, hmm?"

"Very well."

The Doctor held out his hand, and the Tailor shook it. "Then we have a bargain, my dear sir."

()()()

Terna, Barbara, and Susan were lead through the steadily darkening streets by the men that had rescued them. Eventually, the came to the home of the darker-haired of the two, and he told them he'd agreed to put them up for as long as it was needed.

The first thing that was in order was a proper meal. Susan cleared her plate in a matter of minutes.
"Thank you," she exclaimed, setting down her fork and spoon, "I feel better already."

Jean turned to the woman that had served them their food, "Danielle?" He passed her the empty plates, and she took them away.

"Jules's sister," he explained to their guests, "We have closed the rest of the house and sent the servants away. It is safer."

"I expect you'd like a bath and some food," Danielle said to Susan as she reentered the dining room, "I'll prepare it for you. Jean, will you help me?"

He nodded, and the two went upstairs.

"It is not exactly a palace, but you're all very welcome here," Jules added.

"What can I say?" Barbara exclaimed, still very much overwhelmed, "I can't begin to thank you."

"Yeah, if you two hadn't shown up when you did we'd be goners," Terna agreed.

"Oh, please," Jules waved his hand dismissively, "I insist you do not even mention it. It is one of my rules."

"All right, but we don't even know your name," Barbara reminded them.

"And that is another of my rules," Jules explained, "Christian names only: the less my friends and I know, the less we can admit to when questioned. So permit me: I am Jules."

"Barbara; this is Susan," Barbara gestured to the young girl, who was digging in to the dinner rolls.

"You can call me Terna."

Jules raised an eyebrow at her. "Rather unusual. Is it foreign?"

"You could say that."

At that moment, Jean and Danielle returned from upstairs.
"This is my sister, Danielle. She's looking after us," Jules introduced them, "This is my young friend, Jean."

"How do you do," Barbara shook the latter's hand.

"I expect you're wondering what is going to happen to you," Jules remarked, "Well, after you have eaten, you must rest. Then tomorrow we will make arrangements to smuggle you away from France."

"No, we can't!" Susan cried, nearly jumping to her feet, but Terna grabbed her arm to steady her.

"As much as I'd like to get out of this crazy country I'm afraid we can't accept your help," she explained.

Jules looked shocked. "Why not?"

"My Grandfather," Susan said quietly.

"Yes, and Ian," Barbara reminded them, "He's still in the prison."

()()()

Ian pressed his face against the bars of his cell, the rusted metal digging into his cheek.
"Jailer?" he hollered before reaching through the bars and unlocking the door. Cautiously, he stepped out into the corridor, turning to relock Ian relock the door behind him before carefully moving up the corridor.

To his surprise, as he came around the corner, Ian found the Jailer lying on his back in the middle of the hall; the large gash on his forehead was an obvious sign that he'd been knocked out by some blunt object.
However, Ian doesn't stick around much longer as he sprinted towards the exit to the Concierge.
Unseen, LeMaitre stepped out of one of the empty cells, watching Ian leave with a pensive expression.
" Did Webster give you a message for James Stirling or not? We shall see. We shall see."

()()()

The three recently liberated prisoners sat around the table with Jules while Danielle and Jean cleared away the last of the dinner plates, all of whom were satisfied at having access to a full and proper meal after hours in that dank prison.

"I do feel better after that," Susan declared.

"Here, let me help," Barbara offered to Danielle as she moved to take her plate away.

"No, Barbara. You stay where you are," the other woman reassured her, "Jean and I can manage."

"Now, you both agreed to tell me your story," Jules reminded her as Danielle departed for the kitchen.

"Yes, what about the map?" Susan inquired.

"Oh, yes." Jules got up from the table and went over to a sideboard where he produced an elaborate piece of parchment with a map scripted across it. He spread the large piece of paper out on the table, "Here we are".

Susan bent over the map, trailing her finger over the slightly crinkled page, "Now according to the sun's position, we were traveling south," she said.

"Yes, let's see," Terna mused, pointing to a cluster of trees, "Forest should be in this area, here."

"Yes, and there was a group of houses, wasn't there?" Susan added.

"Yes," Barbara replied. "Turn it round this way," she added.

"Okay." Susan flipped the map towards her

"Jules, I think we can show you now," the woman added to him, "We arrived in this area here."

"Yes, we walked through the forest, you see," Susan added, "Then we got lost, so we asked our way at a house and-Where was the house?"

"Here it is," Terna gestured to another spot on the map.

The Time Lady nodded, "Ah."

"That's where we saw the soldiers, remember?" Barbara added.

Jules looked somewhat disturbed. "Are you sure?"

Susan nodded, "Yes."

"Jean!" Jules shouted up the stairs without warning, making the three women jump.

"What's wrong?" Barbara asked.

Terna turned towards Susan as the young girl tugged on the sleeve of her dress, "We didn't find Grandfather though. We don't even know if he got away."

Terna reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, "He did, Susan. He had to," she said, squeezing it reassuringly.

At that moment, Jean entered.
"Show Jean where you were arrested," Jules said sharply.

Susan looked at him in surprise, "Just here."

Jeans eyes went wide as he looked at the spot on the map she was pointing to.

"Did you meet two men there?" Jules demanded.

Barbara nodded slowly, "Yes. How did you know?"

"Their names?" Jean asked.

Terna raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember. "D'Argenson and the other guy was…Damn, I can't remember."

"Rouvray?" Jules offered.

"Yes, that was it."

Jean looked to Jules, his expression grave, "They must have discovered our escape route."

"They may have just been unlucky," Jules asserted. "We'll wait until we've heard from Leon; the route is his responsibility. Where D'Argenson and Rouvray brought back with you?

Barbara hung her head, "No. There was a fight with the soldiers; they were shot."

"Both of them were killed," Terna added.

"Soldiers?" Jean exclaimed, "Jules, this isn't the first time."

"Oh, later, later," Jules said dismissively.

"Someone's informing on us," Jean insisted.

"Later, Jean."

"You knew those men, didn't you?" Susan said to them.

"Yes, we did; we rescued them as we did you," Jules replied bitterly, gritting his teeth, "In their case, our effort was wasted."

"So this isn't the first time you've risked your life?" Barbara deduced.

Jean smiled sadly. "Not all Frenchmen can allow innocent people to be led to the guillotine, Barbara. Jules has saved many lives."

"It would appear that my luck is running out," the other man remarked gravely.

"Luck?" Jean scoffed, "Not if what I say is true."

"I shall sort it out, Jean," Jules declared before turning back to the map, "Now, you say your Grandfather was left here?"

Susan nodded, "Yes, in that house."

"He was upstairs, and D'Argenson said they'd incapacitated him," Terna explained, "Before we could find him, the soldiers arrested us and then set the place on fire."

Jules grabbed his chin thoughtfully, "That is a grave notion; however, I shall send someone to search for him as soon as I can."

"There were five of us all together," Barbara continued, "Ian, as I've already told you, is still in the prison."

Terna couldn't help but find herself slipping her hand into her empty pocket. "So is my Omni-Vice," she whispered, "I need to get it back."

She couldn't help but curse her own stupidity at allowing the object to become separated from her at the Conciergerie when the guard had thrown it out the window. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to consider going back to get it, but she couldn't very well just leave it lying about somewhere in Revolutionary France. After all, the device contained a vital part of her soul, a part of her soul that she needed.

It was her Claw, the extension of the most base, destructive parts of her being: rage, pain, desire; the instinct to fight and live to carry on other day.

Sitting at the table while Susan and Barbara continued to talk with Jean and Jules, she felt oddly hollow inside.

"I promise you," Jules was saying, "I give you my word that I will not rest until the five of you have been brought together again."

Susan nodded, her look of hopeful relief fading slightly as she gripped the side of her head.

"Headache again?" Barbara inquired of her.

Susan nodded, teeth gritted in pain. "Ah, yes. It keeps coming and going."

"The young lady needs sleep," Jules deduced. "Danielle?" he called into the kitchen for his sister.

"If you could show me where," Barbara offered.

"Danielle will escort you," Jules asserted as the woman entered.

"Oh yes, come with me," she said, helping Susan to her feet, "You look worn out."

"If I could just lie down," she replied.

"Sleep well," Jules said to her, "And have pleasant dreams."

"Thank you. Goodnight," Susan replied as she followed Danielle out of the room.

As soon as she left, there was a knock on the door. Jean jumped up, pulling out his pistol as he cautiously moved over to the door. He threw it open and pointed the gun in the face of a handsome, dark-haired man in a long, deep blue cloak who looked at him, startled.

Jean's face lit up in recognition. "Oh, Leon." He lowered the gun and stepped to the side.

The man, Leon, nodded to him as he came into the house. "I'm sorry it's so late, but I have a message for Jules."

"Leon! It's good to see you," Jules said with a grin, getting to his feet and going over to hug the newcomer.

"D'Argenson and Rouvray were taken," Jean declared bluntly.

"Not now, Jean," Jules chastised him. "Well Leon, what's wrong?"

"There is a man: a stranger. He's been asking for you," Leon explained.

Jules raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He's being watched," Leon continued, "He's by the inn near the prison; we thought you should know."

Jules nodded, "Yes, thank you; we'll take care of it." He then turned to see Barbara and Terna still sitting at the table, watching the exchange with twin looks of bemusement. "Oh Barbara, Terna, this is a good friend of mine: Leon," Jules introduced him. "Leon: Terna and Barbara; they're here with a young friend. They'll be staying with us for a few days."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Barbara said to Leon, getting to her feet and curtsying as Terna merely nodded in acknowledgement, still somewhat distracted.

Leon smiled at Barbara, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. "Hello."

Barbara flushed to the roots of her hairline, instantly dropping her gaze as Leon grinned at her.

"We're slipping out for a while," Jules declared before the scene could get awkward, "We won't be for long."

"I'll take good care of them, Jules," Leon reassured them, winking at Barbara as Jules and Jean threw on their coats and headed out the door.

"Perhaps you'd care for some wine?" Leon offered Barbara.

The woman smiled sweetly. "Yes. Thank you."

The two then moved into the next room; however, Terna remained lingering in the dining room. She glanced down at her hands one last time before silently slipping down the hall and out the door, heading the opposite way down the street back to the Conciergerie.

()()()

Terna cautiously entered the prison, pawing about in the dark. She couldn't see anything or anyone, which she supposed was a good thing. Her senses were peaked as she anticipated the Jailer coming around the corner at any moment. Slowly, she moved over to the window and peered over the sill, squinting into the growing darkness for the Omni-Vice, but she couldn't see it anywhere.
She swore under her breath. "Where is it? Why can't I see it?"

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Terna whirled around to see the Jailer standing directly behind her, leering at her out of the darkness.

He started towards her, but Terna knocked him in the side of the head and broke into a sprint as the man fell to the ground behind her. She'd barely made it to the door when another guard grabbed her; Terna cried out in frustration as the man pinned her arms behind her back. She was so useless without her Omni-Vice.

"Hold her," the Jailer called to his cohort as he staggered to his feet, gripping his bloody head. He smirked in spite of it as he stalked over to Terna, twisting in the other guard's grip.
"This is a mighty fine error on your part coming back to this place, wench."

()()()

The Jailer's office was disgusting; it smelled like booze and old cheese. The man himself sat at his rotten wood desk; his head was heavily bandaged, and he was drinking deeply from a large dark green bottle.

Terna was sitting in a chair before his desk, glaring at him as she stiffly twisted her wrists from where they were tied down to the arms.

The Jailer burped as he set down the bottle. "Now then, what are we to do with you?" He paused as though he expected Terna to respond to his obviously rhetorical question. "You managed to dodge the guillotine's blade once," he continued, "Perhaps you are better suited for the firing squad."

Terna's blue eyes widened in horror; she opened her mouth to say something, but there was suddenly a loud bang from another part of the prison that made both her and the Jailer jump.

"Let me in, you fools! I could have you shot at dawn," a muffled yet familiar voice hollered from the outside, "Get it open, will you?"

He banged on the door again; the sound was followed by the rusted creak of the jail door being opened.

"Ah, that's better," the voice continued, growing louder as its owner came closer down the hall. "Thank you. Open again? You don't want all the prisoners to escape, do you?"

Terna twisted around in her seat, straining somewhat because of the ropes holding her. The Jailer jumped up as a guard entered the room along with another man, who swept over the threshold with a flourish.

Terna's jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and joy to see that it was the Doctor standing before her. He was dressed in a rather bizarre outfit consisting of a long black cloak, a red, white, and, blue sash over his chest, and a gigantic black hat adorned in dark plumes and red, white and blue pins.

"Doctor!" Terna tried to rise from the chair, momentarily forgetting herself, but was quickly yanked back down by the ropes.

The Doctor turned towards her, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Isabelle! What on earth are you doing there?" he exclaimed.

Terna faltered "What?"

The Doctor, ignoring her confusion, turned on the Jailer. "How dare you! How dare you, man? I sent my wife ahead of me with a guard in the hopes that she would be safe from this madness, and you threw her in prison!"

The Jailer looked dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond. The Doctor scoffed at his silence as he strode over to Terna and quickly untie dthe ropes holding her to the chair.

The Lyall gaped at him. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

Just play along."

Terna grimaced somewhat at the thought, but realized that her life might depend on it so, as she got to her feet, she put on her best relieved smile. "Oh, thank goodness you came. Darling, they were going to shoot me!"

"Of all the indecency. This is an outrage!" the Doctor cried, turning back to the Jailer, "Who's is in charge of this prison, hmm? Well, speak up, my man!"

The Jailer was utterly flabbergasted. "I am, Citizen, but who are you?"

The Doctor's response was shoving a paper under the man's nose. "My credentials."

The Jailer barely had a chance to look at it before the Doctor yanked it back.
"And while we are about it, why wasn't I met, hmm? Do you realize that I walked through the whole of Paris without a guard? Me?"

"We would have arranged an escort had we been advised of your coming," the Jailer stammered.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Or rather you were too busy planning to shoot my wife and have her relatives and guard executed. And for that matter, you were advised! I forwarded the communication myself. What if Robespierre hears about all this?"

Here, the Jailer went very pale. "Robespierre? Why, I don't think you should worry the First Deputy, Citizen. He's a very busy man," he stammered, bowing awkwardly, "I am at your service, Citizen. Anything you wish to know."

"Very well," the Doctor relented, "Thank you. Yes, you seem a capable man, and I'm sure this misunderstanding is none of your doing. Aren't I right, dear Isabelle?" he added to Terna.

Oh, yes quite," she replied with a wide smile, "I suppose all can be forgiven…in time." She glared pointedly at the Jailer.

He laughed nervously, "Oh, indeed madam. I am most grieved by this misunderstanding, but pray tell, why did you not inform us of your husband's position when you were first arrested?"

"Don't you think I tried? You didn't let me speak!"

The Jailer shifted uncomfortably, faltering under the look she was giving him. "Oh, do forgive me; I myself am most conscientious, but when you're assisted by idiots..."

"Of course, of course," the Doctor waved his hand dismissively, "Then I'm glad we understand each other."

The Jailer nodded, pausing to mop his brow. "Some wine, Citizen?"

"No thank you."

"I would deem it a privilege if I could be of help," the Jailer offered, bowing slightly.

"Thank you, Citizen!" The Doctor smiled, "It's all perfectly simple: now, along with my wife, three others were brought to this prison with her: a man, a woman and a young child. The man was my wife's guard, and the woman and girl were her relatives. I sent them ahead of me to make the journey. I can see, due to the folly of your idiotic assistants, that this was a mistake. However, I'm sure you remember them?"

The Jailer scrambled somewhat, "Ah, yes. Ah, yes. Uh..."

"Well? If they're still here," the Doctor snapped impatiently.

"The woman and the girl were dispatched to the guillotine; however, they were rescued," the Jailer quickly explained.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "What? By whom?"

"We don't know!" the Jailer exclaimed. "Many times traitors have snatched away those on the road to the guillotine. You understand, of course, that I cannot be held responsible? They were outside my jurisdiction."

The Doctor smirked. "Yes. But what of the man? You haven't mentioned him."

The Jailer rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "No. Well, the man, uh, well uh."

"Well, come along," the Doctor snapped impatiently, "Out with it, man."

"He escaped; I tried to stop him, but he fought with the strength of ten men. He gave me this wound," he gestured to his bandaged brow, and Terna couldn't help but smile slightly at what was her own handiwork.

"Yes, yes, yes, I believe what you say," the Doctor relented, "I'm sure you did the best you could. He naturally, of course, would not have come to any harm as he is my wife's guard. It's a pity you're surrounded by such fools."

"Exactly, Citizen. Exactly."

"Yes. So, all three of them are somewhere in Paris," the Time Lord mused.

"They will be found, you may rest assured."

"Yes, of course. Well, I'll take up no more of your time, Citizen. Come along, Isabelle," he gestured to Terna, who gladly followed him as he bid farewell to the still disgruntled Jailer.

However, as the Doctor opened the office door, he found none other than LeMaitre standing on the threshold.

His jaw dropped, and he was momentarily at a loss for words. The Conciergerie warden glared at him before looking pointedly to the Jailer in search of an explanation.

"LeMaitre, the Citizen here has come to clear up a misunderstanding."

"Yes, I heard what was said," the other man replied shortly, "Your papers, Citizen?" he added to the Doctor.

The Doctor handed him the pile of paperwork. "Mine, my wife's, her guard's, and her relatives'."

"He's a regional officer from the southern province," the Jailer added eagerly.

"I can read, thank you, Jailer," LeMaitre replied, his expression unreadable as he examined the papers. He glanced up at Terna, "Why were these not on your person when we arrested you?"

"They were taken by the traitors we encountered on our journey," she quickly replied, "Oh, it was terrible: the scoundrels held us at gunpoint." She wrung her hands, hoping to appear as frail and unassuming as possible.

She still couldn't tell what LeMaitre was thinking; his expression remained impassive as he turned to the Doctor. "I see, and where are you going now, Citizen?"

"Well, uh, home," the Doctor replied, "Right, darling?"

"Yes, please."

"It's rather late," LeMaitre asserted, "It would perhaps be better if you journeyed tomorrow."

The Doctor looked uncomfortable at the thought, but figured it would probably be in their best interest not to argue. "Yes. Yes, we could do that."

LeMaitre smiled slightly. "I'm happy you agree. You see, I'm taking the execution lists to the First Deputy's palace and, by a coincidence if you like, your province is going to be discussed. It would be a great help if you were on hand to answer any difficult questions that crop up."

The Doctor dropped his eyes, doing his best to hide his reluctance, a slight anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. "A great help. Very well."

LeMaitre's smile widened, "I promise you will find it most interesting. Jailer, attend to the woman, make sure she is comfortable." He turned back to the Doctor and gestured out of the office with a flourish of his cloak, "Come. We must not keep Citizen Robespierre waiting."

The Doctor hesitated a mere fraction of a second before following the warden out of the room, casting one last meaningful glance at Terna as he did so.

()()()

Barbara and Leon were sitting on the sofa in Jules's parlor, both enjoying a bottle of some surprisingly good red wine considering the economy's current circumstances.

Leon smiled in satisfaction as he set down his now empty glass. "Where do you come from, Barbara?"

Barbara twirled her finger along the rim of her own glass. "Does it matter?"

"No. I'd just like to know."

The woman dropped her eyes. "I don't think you'll like the answer. I was born in England, so that makes us enemies."

"Does it?" Leon leaned forward slightly, "I prefer to think that it means you have no interest in France or the Revolution."

Barbara glanced back up, "That's a strange thing to say."

"Perhaps I'll explain one day," Leon offered, scooting a little closer to Barbara. He reached to take her hand, but Barbara jumped up from the couch.

"Well, I think I'd better go and see if Susan's all right," she said a little too loudly before pausing and looking about her, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "Where has Terna gotten to?"

()()()

The Doctor hadn't been this nervous since his TARDIS piloting license test. As he walked down the polished white halls of Robespierre's palace beside LeMaitre, his thoughts raced, and his hearts hammered in his chest.

He couldn't believe he was about to stand a mere table length's away from one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the history of Europe.

And he was wearing such a stupid hat.

He swallowed quietly as an attendant led him and LeMaitre into Robespierre's large, equally white office. Despite the possibility of losing his neck, the Doctor couldn't help a slight surge of excitement when he stepped into the room and saw the man himself: Maximilian Robespierre, ruler of France, sitting at his deck, vigorously scribbling away on a piece of parchment with a long, black quill.

He glanced up as they entered.
"LeMaitre, to see Citizen Robespierre," the attendant announced.

Robespierre nodded distractedly to him, and the man left, before turning to LeMaitre and the Doctor.

"Here is the complete and detailed list of the recent executions, Citizen," the former began, handing the French Tyrant a rather large pile of papers.

Robespierre examined at them only briefly before looking over to the Doctor.
"Who is this, LeMaitre?"

The Doctor clenched his fists; the man had a sharp, commanding tone that sent goosebumps up and down his arms.

"A Regional Deputy visiting from our southern province, Citizen," LeMaitre explained, "And as the province in question is to be discussed, I thought the Citizen could make his report personally."

Robespierre nodded. "I see; I am always prepared to listen to a first-hand account of a region's situation."

"I welcome the opportunity. Thank you," the Doctor replied, bowing slightly and nearly knocking off his hat, "Before you question me, perhaps you would like to hear my views on Paris?"

Robespierre arched a brow at this, "When did you arrive?"

"Just today."

Robespierre smiled slightly, "Hardly long enough for you to have gauged the present mood of our capital."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the Doctor asserted.

"I am only interested in your comments on your own territory," Robespierre declared pointedly, setting down his quill. "Recent memoranda from your province suggest that the purge of our enemies in your region is progressing very slowly."

The Doctor's hearts each skipped a beat. "Oh, you've reached that conclusion? Hmm, well, perhaps we have fewer enemies in our region, and it maybe that Paris can take an example from us, hmm?"

"We in Paris are aware of the danger, Citizen," Robespierre replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, "We live in troubled times. There is much, much work to be done, work that is constantly delayed by the need to ferret out the traitors that we harbor in our midst."

"Is there such a need, Citizen Robespierre?" the Doctor insisted, "I mean, what can this Reign of Terror possibly achieve? For every opponent you put to the guillotine, two more will spring up!"

"I think you have said enough, Citizen," LeMaitre interrupted, his tone clearly conveying a 'dude, you're going to get your head cut off if you don't shut up' kind of vibe.

However, the Doctor seemed unfazed by back talking a mass murderer. "Oh, you do, do you?"

"Let him speak, LeMaitre," Robespierre asserted, although there was still a cold edge to his voice, "What he said is true: my enemies do multiply. He is only warning me of the dangers I face."

"As you wish, Citizen," LeMaitre relented.

"I could, and I shall, do great things for France," Robespierre continued, curling his hands into fists, "For too long the Nobility have kept our people to heel, and now finally, my world is at power, and what happens? My colleagues, my trusted friends, plot for power."

The Doctor barely suppressed a scoff. "Do they? Or is it just their wish to keep their heads, hmm?"

Robespierre gritted his teeth, "Danton planned to restore the monarchy. I had the proof, I knew! I had to dispose of him." He slammed his hand against the desk, rattling the ink well and knocking the quill onto the floor, "And the Girondins! Even now, Convention members are at work, plotting my downfall. But I will triumph, even if I have to execute every last one of them!"

He looked up at the Doctor, who nearly folded under the murderous glint clearly shining in his eyes. This man was mad, completely and utterly mad.
Robespierre clenched his jaw, dropping those broiling eyes onto the ink splatters across his desk, "Death, always death," he whispered, "Do you think I want this carnage? Three hundred and forty two executions in nine days in Paris alone. What a memory I shall leave behind if this thing lasts."
He placed his hands over his eyes and sighed heavily, "You must come again, Citizen," he added to the Doctor without looking up, "We never did talk about your province."

The Doctor exhaled quietly, "No we didn't, did we? And I was so looking forward to it. It's a pity we talked for so long about Paris."

Robespierre nodded, finally looking up to meet the other two men's' eyes, "Bring him with you tomorrow, LeMaitre."

"Yes, Citizen."

()()()

Susan shivered under the blanket; her face wet and waxy in the half-light. Barbara sat beside her, her face lined with worry. She looked up when Danielle entered, carrying a brandy.

"This will warm her," the woman said, handing her the bottle.

"Thank you," Barbara replied gratefully, "Any sign of, Terna?"

Danielle shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. She left without pretense; we don't know where she's gone."

Barbara nodded. "I see. I fear she may have gone to look for the Doctor; I hope she has enough sense to stay out of trouble, but I suppose I shouldn't worry."

"Your friend is rather odd," Danielle remarked.

"Yes, I suppose she is."

At that moment, Leon entered the sitting room. "Would you like something, Barbara?"

"No, thank you."

"I think I'd like some more wine," the man added to Danielle.

"The wine is on the table."

"Thank you." Leon went over to the side bar and picked up the half empty bottle, pouring himself a glass.

"I think I'll return to bed, if you'll excuse me." Danielle declared.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry we disturbed you." Barbara smiled apologetically.

Danielle bowed before leaving.

No sooner had she done so then Susan shifted from her place on the couch. She opened her eyes and looked about her, blinking rapidly.

"How do you feel now?" Barbara asked her.

"I'm all right, thanks," Susan replied thickly.

"You try and get some rest; I'll be here if you want me," Barbara assured her. The young Time Lady nodded as she nestled back against the pillows and closed her eyes.
"I wish I knew for certain what it was," Barbara added to Leon. "She could have caught almost anything in that jail."

"We've done all we can, Barbara."

"Yes, but is it enough?" she insisted, "When I went upstairs, she'd kicked off all her clothes and was shivering with cold. I was so worried, I thought I'd better bring her down here."

"It's probably just a chill."

"Yes, but what if it's worse?"

"Well, we could call a physician," Leon offered, "But it would be dangerous. They report almost everything to the militia these days, if only to save their own necks." His last words were thick with bitterness.

"Yes, well, that's a risk we'll have to take," Barbara declared, "You must know someone we could trust."

Leon thought for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I think I do."

"Good. That's settled then." Barbara glanced back at Susan to see her breathing peacefully. "She's asleep."

"Good. I wonder what's happened to Jules?" Leon mused, "He should have been back before this."

"Oh. Well, if you have to go, we'll be all right here," Barbara declared.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course. I know you didn't intend to stay so long."

Leon nodded in agreement. "I think I'd better go. I shall need time to arrange for the physician."

Barbara rose to her feet as he turned to leave, making him pause. "We'll see you tomorrow?"

"If I can't come back, I'll send a message," Leon replied with a slight smile, "You'll tell Jules?"

"Yes, and be careful, Leon."

Leon's smile widened. "I will. We'll meet again, Barbara, and soon."

With that, he left, just as Susan woke up again.

"I thought you were asleep," Barbara said to her.

"No, just dozing. Where's Terna?"

"She's not here. She left to find your grandfather. Do you want to go back to bed now?"

Susan nodded. "You like Leon, don't you?" she remarked as Barbara helped her sit up.

"Come on, I'll help you upstairs," the other woman replied tersely, feeling her cheeks redden.

She led Susan, wrapped in her blanket comforter, out of the parlor and up the stairs.

()()()

"No, far from it. I'd say you created a favorable impression on Citizen Robespierre," LeMaitre was saying as he and the Doctor reentered the Conciergerie. It was very late in the evening at this point and the dark shadows surrounding the prison looked all the more menacing.

"I didn't say half the things I wanted to say," the Doctor replied bitterly, "He twisted my words."

LeMaitre laughed lightly at this, "Politicians usually do. Still, you are going to have another opportunity."

"Oh, I think not. No, no, no," the Doctor quickly asserted, "Your hospitality has been most successful, and most accepted. No, I think I must bid you goodbye and leave you."

LeMaitre raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this, "That would be rather difficult, Citizen. Robespierre is expecting you tomorrow."

"Then convey my apologies to him," the Doctor replied dismissively.

"On the contrary, it would be more than my neck is worth to disobey such an order. You must try and stay."

"It's out of the question!"

LeMaitre took a step forward, and the Doctor almost took a step back. "Oh, but I insist," he whispered. "Jailer!"

The addressed stumbled up the stairs almost instantly. "LeMaitre," he replied breathlessly.

"Arrange suitable accommodation for our Citizen guest, his wife as well."

"Of course, Citizen, of course. For how long?"

"They will be staying at least until tomorrow night."

"Definitely no longer," the Doctor interjected.

"They can have one of the soldiers' rooms. I'll throw them out."
LeMaitre nodded his approval and was about to leave when the Jailer stopped him. "Oh, Citizen, just one thing. There's a man waiting to see you. It's very important."

LeMaitre arched an intrigued eyebrow before brushing past the Doctor and headed down the hall towards his office.

"I trust the room will be to your satisfaction," the Jailer added to the Time Lord.

"I'm sure it will be" the Doctor grumbled, "Where is Ter-I mean Isabelle?"

"Upstairs awaiting your return. She is most impatient," the Jailer replied sounding somewhat annoyed.

The Doctor couldn't help but smile slightly at this.
So, Terna was giving him hell as compensation for the way he'd treated her.
"Good. Then I shall go to her."

"If you're ready, Citizen; I'll show you your room," the Jailer continued.

"Oh, that's alright, Jailer. I don't think I shall stay after all," the Doctor asserted, "Just send my wife down and we shall be on our way."

The Jailer gawked. "Eh?"

"I'm sure LeMaitre will understand," the Time Lord assured him, "It's a pity that I asked him to put us up. Besides, those poor soldiers will need their rest."

"It doesn't matter about them," the other man insisted.

"Nevertheless, we must be on our way; we have a long journey," the Doctor continued, "So kindly give my regards to LeMaitre."

His hearts skipped a beat when the Jailor suddenly pulled out a pistol.

"Citizen!" he called, pointing it directly at him.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Jailer? Hmm?" the Doctor snapped.

"LeMaitre said you are staying," the Jailer replied definitively, "I must obey him."

"And what do you think he'll say when he hears you delayed me, hmm?" the Doctor tried, his mind racing as his eyes never left the end of the gun barrel trained on him.

"I'm sorry, Citizen, I'm sorry. But if he comes back and finds you gone, it could be even worse."

The Doctor sighed, gritting his teeth in frustration. Could he not catch a break today?

"Very well, we'll stay then. And I shall say nothing of this disgraceful behavior, if only for your sake."

The Jailer grinned, showing rotten teeth, as he immediately lowered the gun. "Thank you, Citizen, thank you. This way."

()()()

LeMaitre entered his office to find a short, relatively inconspicuous man waiting for him.
"Well? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Citizen LeMaitre," the Tailor replied, "I think I may have some information for you."
He held up the Doctor's ring.

LeMaitre listened intently to the other man's story as he recounted his tale.
"Your story is that this white-haired old gentleman exchanged clothes and this ring, and that you also gave him writing material?"

"And the sash, Citizen," the Tailor replied, "It was when he took the insignia of a Regional Officer of the Provinces that I became, well, suspicious."

"Yes, so you said." LeMaitre rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Of course I realize it may be nothing, but it was my duty to report it," the Tailor continued.

LeMaitre's pensive expression quickly morphed into a slightly sinister smile.
"You did well, Citizen."

The Tailor took this as his cue to leave, and yet his eyes couldn't help but waver back to the Doctor's clothes and ring sitting neatly folded on the desk before him.
"Will you be keeping the ring and the clothes, Citizen?"

"They may be needed as evidence," LeMaitre replied.

"Oh. Yes." The Tailor licked his lips, "Of course, you realize they were part of the exchange. I'm a poor man, Citizen, and normally I'd have thrown him out of my shop."

LeMaitre rolled his eyes. "This should more than compensate." He dropped a small bag of gold coins onto the desk between them.

The Tailors eyes lit up. "Thank you, Citizen!" he exclaimed, snatching the bag from the desk and turning the coins over in his hands, "Although I cannot accept a reward for what, after all, was my duty."

"Keep it, on one condition."

"Anything, Citizen."

LeMaitre leaned forward, his eyes stern. "You will say nothing of this to anyone."

The Tailor nodded eagerly. "You have my word."

"Leave this way," LeMaitre crossed the room and opened a back door, "I don't want you seen in the prison."

"Thank you, Citizen, thank you," the other man gushed as he hurried out the door and into the night.

()()()

After seeing Susan off to bed, Barbara reentered the dining room to find Jules and Jean had returned, but they were not alone. A third man was lying unconscious across the now cleared dining room table with Jules and Jean hovering over him.

"He's coming round," the latter announced. He looked 'round as Barbara approached. "I'm sorry we were so long, Barbara," he said to her, "We had to carry him all the way, dodging patrols all the time. How's Susan?"

"Oh, she has a slight fever, but she's sleeping now."

Jules nodded before looking to the door. "Leon's not here?"

"No, he had to leave. He's arranging for Susan to see a doctor t-" Barbara was cut off as the man on the table suddenly awake and sat bolt upright.

"Barbara!"

Barbara's jaw dropped. "Ian!" She let out a little scream before rushing over to embrace him, gripping him as though she'd never let go.

Ian laughed, patting her back reassuringly
"Are Susan and Terna here too?" he asked once she'd released him.

"Susan's upstairs, but Terna I'm afraid is missing."

Ian's eyes widened at this. "Any news of the Doctor?"

Barbara shook her head. "No. We don't even know if he got to Paris; I suspect Terna went looking for him."

Jules laughed at their display. "Well, we did not know when we left here we were going to collect one of your friends, Barbara."

"Ian, this is Jules" Barbara introduced him, "He saved our lives."

Ian looked to him, shocked. "Not Jules Renan, by any chance?"

Jules looked startled. "Yes?"

"What?" Ian scrambled to his feet, "I've been looking for you!"

"We heard that somebody was," Jules replied, "We did not know it was you."

"You can say that again," Ian replied with a slight laugh, pausing to rub the growing bump on the side of his head.

"We're very sorry about that. Jean, this calls for a celebration," Jules added to his friend.

"I'll get a bottle from the cellar," the other man replied, hurrying out of the room.

"Come and sit over here, you'll be more comfortable." Jules lead Ian and Barbara into the parlor.

"I think I'd better go and sit with Susan," the later rejected the offer for a drink on the couch (having had her fair share with Leon).

Ian looked surprised at this. "Oh?"

"She isn't feeling at all well," Barbara explained.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Don't know. We're hoping to see a doctor tomorrow," Barbara couldn't help but smile, however, despite her grave statements, "Although when she hears you're back, that should be tonic enough."

"I know it is good news, but I think it's best not to wake her," Jules advised.

"Oh no, I won't," Barbara replied, "She doesn't sleep for very long anyway. Look, you have a talk to Ian."

With that, she left.

Ian turned back to Jules, smirking. "Sounded like an order."

"Well, there is one question I would like to ask you," Jules remarked, "How did you know Barbara and Susan were here?"

Ian shook his head. "I didn't."

"But I thought when you were asking for me."

"That was for an entirely different reason. Do you know a man called Webster?"

Jules looked surprised. "No."

"I shared a cell with him in prison," Ian explained, "Unfortunately he died. He asked me to contact a man called James Stirling."

"James Stirling." Jules turned the name over in his mind, "No, I'm afraid that name means nothing to me either."

"What?" Ian was aghast. "You mean to say you don't know him?"

"No. Should I?"

"Well, I don't know" Ian admitted, "I somehow took it for granted that you would."

"Perhaps you'd better tell me the complete story."

"Yes."

"Over a glass of wine."

Right, Ian kept forgetting he was in France.

"Well, as far as I know, Webster was an Englishman who'd come over to France to persuade Stirling to return to England. Stirling must be a spy."

As Ian talked, Jean reappeared with a bottle.
"I'll share one drink, then I must start my journey," he said as he poured three glasses.

"Thank you. Yes, you should leave before dawn," Jules advised. "Your health, Ian," he added, raising his glass aloft.

"Well, as I told you, Webster was dying," Ian continued, "But before he died, he begged me to get a message to James Stirling. I asked him, how would I recognize him? And he told me to contact you at the sign of Le Chien Gris."

"I see. Well, Webster is right there," Jean remarked, "It is an inn that we frequent. I'm sorry, please go on."

"No, that's all there is to say," Ian replied, "Except that, as I found Le Chien Gris, you found me."

"Did Webster know Stirling?" Jules inquired.

"Oh, I imagine so."

"Probably by sight," Jean surmised.

"But if as you say Stirling is a spy, to do his job properly he must be able to move around freely," Jules deduced, "That would mean an alias, a completely new identity."

"What, something that Webster didn't know?" Ian offered.

"Yes, exactly."

"So, Webster was counting on recognizing him," Ian inferred.

"Well, that makes good sense," Jules declared.

"Yes, well why did he ask me to contact you?" Ian wondered aloud.

"Men like Webster have been in touch with me before," Jules explained, "I imagine the English are giving me as a contact to people they send over in case they need help."

"That's not going to help me find Stirling, is it?" Ian remarked.

Jules shook his head before turning to Jean, seeing he looked somewhat disturbed.
"What's the matter, eh?"

"I'm not sure I like the idea of being used by the English," the other man replied somewhat bitterly, "You shouldn't either, Jules. We're at war! And they're our enemies, and here we are helping their spies."

"England is at war with the people ruling France, Jean," Jules asserted, "So are we. When the tyranny ends, so will the war."

"I suppose the chances of finding Stirling are pretty slim," Ian mused.

"We can try," Jules offered.

Ian nodded. "Good."

"Now, you have a few days to spare, if that's correct," Jean continued.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do I?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't told you," Jules apologized, "Jean is leaving soon to search for the fourth member of your party, Susan's grandfather."

"You know where he is?" Ian asked Jean.

"No, but I will start at the house where you were arrested and follow the trail from there. I'll find him."

"And while we wait, we will also search, for Stirling," Jules added.

"Providing you have no objections, Jules, I'll start my journey now," Jean added.

"No objections."

"You'll hear from me within three days."

"Take care, Jean." Jules bid farewell to his friend, who nodded in response.

"Ian." He bowed to him.

Ian nodded to him. "Good luck, and thanks."

"If anyone can find him, Jean can," Jules reassured him after his friend had left, "Now to our problem. I wonder who can help us. Of course, there is one man."

"A friend of yours?" Ian offered.

"Yes, Leon," Jules replied, "We've shared many escapades. He moves in a very wide circle and knows a great many people. Perhaps he is James Stirling."

"I'd like to meet him," Ian declared, "Can you arrange it?"

"Very easily, he's coming here tomorrow, bringing a physician for Susan," Jules replied.

"Good. This calls for another drink," Ian remarked, reaching for the bottle. "Oh, Barbara, just in time."

Both men looked up as she entered.

"How's Susan?" Jules inquired.

"I'm afraid she's getting worse," Barbara replied grimly.

()()()

When the Doctor entered the room that had been sectioned off for him, he found Terna sitting on the bed waiting for him. She got to her feet as he entered.

"Took you long enough."

"Forgive me," the Doctor replied somewhat breathlessly as he was still a little shaken, "I had a bit of a disagreement with Robespierre."

"People keep mentioning that name," Terna remarked, "Who is he?"

"The tyrant of France."

"Oh."

The Doctor glanced around the room; it wasn't exactly five star. There was little improvement over a basic cell aside from the fact that it was a little cleaner. The walls were still rough stone, the floor straw, the cot lumpy, and the air drafty.

"Nice room you have here," he declared sarcastically.

Terna shrugged as she sat back down on the bed. "Could be worse. Sure beats a cell."

"I suppose." The Doctor eyed her thoughtfully, "How did you come to find yourself back here anyways? I'd been told you'd escaped."

"I had, but I had lost my Omni-Vice when a guard threw it out the window," Terna explained, "I can't be without it, Doctor, so I had to risk coming back here to retrieve it."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile as he reached into the pocket of his coat. "You mean this?"

He held up a familiar bronze magnifying glass.

Terna shrieked in delight as she jumped to her feet and quickly grabbed the object from him.
"Oh, Doctor, you found it!"

"Yes, I spotted it lying in the mud as I was coming to the gate."

"I can't thank you enough," Terna gushed, gripping the glass tightly as she slipped it into her dress pocket, relishing in the familiar weight of it against her hip.

"On more accounts than this," the Doctor replied rather sternly. "If it hadn't been for me, you'd have been shot. Coming back here was a very foolish thing to do."

"Perhaps, but not more foolish then you impersonating one of them and coming here unarmed to clear my name," Terna asserted.

"I suppose." The Doctor sat down on the bed beside her and light his pipe.

Terna eyed him thoughtfully. "Tell me, Doctor, are you attracted to me?"

The Doctor choked, nearly lighting his finger on fire. "What? Whatever gave you that idea?"

Terna shrugged. "Well, this is the second time now you've played the 'wife' card. Is it some kind of Freudian wish fulfillment?"

The Doctor glared at her. "Don't try and apply Earth psychology to me, Eternal."

"Fine. Jeez, I was just asking," Terna exclaimed, holding up her hands in submission.

The Doctor scoffed. "Well, then my answer is no: I'm not attracted to you."

Terna nodded astutely. "Oh, alright. Good: I'm not attracted to you either."

"Good."

There was an awkward paused.
"We should probably go to sleep."

Tena blinked. "Huh? Oh, right, but first two questions: how did you get here and why do you look like a peacock?"

The Doctor snorted. "My dear, Terna, this is the official garb of the Regional Officers of the French military."

"Oh, I see." The Lyall smirked as she took off his hat and put it on her own head, "I think I used to have a hat like this once."

"As for how I managed to escape the fire, I was fortunate enough that the boy we found in the woods pulled me from the flames," the Doctor continued as Terna messed with the feathers.

"I see. Well, I'm glad you're alright," she remarked, setting the hat down on the chair beside the bed. "Although, I do have one more question: why Isabelle?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "I don't frankly know. It just popped into my head, but I suppose it's appropriate as it means 'beautiful'"

Terna rolled her eyes. "Would you stop?"

"Perhaps, but I'm quite tired; I had a long walk to get here. I suggest we turn in." The Doctor moved to stand up but Terna held up a hand to stop him.

"Oh no, mister. Turn around."

The Doctor looked confused. "What? Oh." He rolled his eyes before turning to face the wall.

Terna stood up and strode across the room. "For the record," she continued, as she pulled her dress over her head and reached for the nightgown put out for her, "You'll stay on your side of the bed. Got it?"

"Hadn't we just gone over this?"

"Alright. I'm decent."

"Good." The Doctor turned back around, "Now, goodnight, and please do stay on your side of the bed as well."

The following morning, the Doctor awoke, rather uncomfortable and confused. He rarely slept and when he did, he always found himself in the comfort of his bedroom in the TARDIS.
The draft in the room had been terrible, and he'd been shivering all night. A part of him had actually wanted to shift a little closer to Terna lying beside him, unperturbed by the chill, but he reasoned that, due to her lack of body heat, she probably wouldn't have made a very good heat source.

However, as he sat up, he found the Lyall's side of the bed empty. He soon spotted her sitting on a chair in the corner fully dressed, wearing his hat again and writing in a notebook.

She glanced up. "Good morning. You know you kept kicking me last night?"

The Doctor felt himself grow somewhat embarrassed. "Did I? Forgive me. I'm not used to sharing a bed with someone else," he admitted.

Terna arched an eyebrow. "Really? No wife, no girlfriend, no siblings that you clambered into bed with when you were small?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Aside from Susan and a few other attachments, I am relatively alone."

Terna dropped her eyes. "No wonder you left."

"What are you writing?" the Doctor inquired, eager to change the subject.

"Oh, this? I found it in the bottom of the chest where the clothes were," Terna explained. "Rangi told me once that it's important to keep a log of situations that way you can go over them later. Normally, I just write on scraps of paper I find lying around the TARDIS, so I was fortunate to come across this."

"Who's Rangi?" the Doctor asked, surprised that Terna would mention something from her past as she was normally quite reluctant (although he was one to talk).

"Oh, no one of importance," Terna replied dismissively.

"I see. You know, I could probably find you some empty volumes to keep record on in the TARDIS library," the Doctor offered.

Terna was surprised. "Really?"

"Of course, why not?"

"Thanks, but I suppose," Terna dropped her eyes, "That is to say, if we can make it back to the TARDIS."

"Don't lose heart, Terna," the Doctor reassured her, clambering out of bed and pulling on his waist coat. "We just have to find the others."

Terna nodded, standing up as well, "I left the place where Susan and Barbara are. C'mon, I'll take you to where they are. Then we can all try and find Ian together and get out of here."

As the Doctor and Terna came downstairs into the main hall of the prison, they found the Jailer lying on the ground in a drunken stupor.

They exchanged a glance just as LeMaitre entered. "Good morning, Citizens. I hope you slept well."

"I did not!" the Doctor snapped indignantly, "The bed was hard, and the draught blew through the room like the north wind."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, I dare say you are, but if I catch rheumatism, apologies won't cure it. Will it, hmm?" the Doctor snapped.

"Well, better feed the pigs," the Jailer declared loudly, shuffling out of the room.

"Most appropriate," Terna remarked.

"Come, we'll have breakfast," LeMaitre gestured to him, "And your time may not be wasted, Citizen. I've got a feeling that it will be quite an eventful day."

()()()

Not a word had come from Leon until Danielle received a message.
"The physician won't come here."

"Thank you," Jules replied.

"But we must do something for Susan," Ian insisted.

"Well, if Danielle says the physician won't come here, Susan must be taken to him," Jules declared.

"I'll arrange for a carriage to take them," Danielle announced, bowing out of the room.

"Let me go with Susan," Ian added.

"No, I think it'll look less suspicious if two women were to go," Jules asserted, "Barbara can take her; the physician is reasonably near."

"I've just found them; I don't want to lose them again," Ian insisted.

"That's quite understandable," Jules replied calmly, "But there's no reason for you to fear for your safety. Besides, there's your meeting with Leon."

"Yes, but you haven't arranged it yet."

"I can. Ian, it'll all be over by today; you'll be able to leave together. It'll be quicker this way."

"Well, I don't like it this way, but- ." Ian sighed, finally relenting.

"Good. I'll go and fetch Barbara and Susan."

As Jules left the room, Ian watched him go.
"Let's hope we can trust the physician."

()()()

An hour later, Susan was being examined by a physician.

"Yes, you appear to have a feverish chill, but it's nothing very serious."

"Well, that's a relief," Barbara declared.

"All the same, I'm surprised at your condition," the Physician mused, peering at the young girl over the rim of his bifocals, "Tell me, have you any idea how you came to catch it?"

Susan shook her head. "No, none."

"Your symptoms would suggest that you haven't been looking after yourself."

"Well, I've done nothing unusual," the young Time Lady replied with a shrug.

"Has she been eating properly?" the Physician inquired of Barbara.

"She has an enormous appetite," the woman asserted, "Look, doctor, if you could, well, give her something? We appreciate your time's valuable. We've no wish to delay you."

"Quite so, quite so," the man agreed, "There's another thing, your, er, your hands. They're very blistered, aren't they?"

"We've been doing some gardening," Susan replied, quickly yanking her hands away.

"Doctor, can you help her?" Barbara asked urgently.

"Yes, I'll treat her. It's a simple matter of blood-letting."
Susan gasped, horrified. "Unfortunately, I shall have to go out and collect some leeches," the Physician continued, "You called rather early; I was on my way to collect them first thing this morning, but you're welcome to wait."

Barbara looked uncomfortable. "Well, maybe it would be better if we came back."

"Come back? No, no, no. I shall be out all day," the man replied, "You'll have to wait, but please, make yourselves comfortable."

With that, he left.

As soon as the shop door closed behind him, Susan grabbed Barbara's hand and looked at her pleadingly. "Barbara, I don't like him, and I can't stand the thought of having leeches on me."

"I know, and I got the impression that he suspected us," Barbara agreed, "Come on, let's go."

Susan didn't need to be told twice as she jumped up and bounded across the room. She yanked on the door, but it didn't budged
"It's locked!"

()()()

At Jules's estate, Ian anxiously paced the room.
"Barbara and Susan aren't back yet."

"They'll be all right," Jules assured him, "It is not unusual to be kept waiting at the physician."

"Well, I've got a feeling something's gone wrong," Ian declared.

"Now don't worry, Ian," Jules pressed, "I've arranged your meeting with Leon."

"Oh, he can wait."

Jules sighed. "If it'll make you any happier, I'll go and fetch Barbara and Susan. Now if you want to see Leon, you must hurry. He moves around a great deal. It may be your only chance."

"But you'll leave immediately?" Ian asked.

"Yes, of course I will," the other man replied, "Leon is at a disused church; you're to go alone. I've explained some of the story."

"Ah, so he's not James Stirling," Ian deduced.

Jules shook his head. "No. I'll draw a map for you; it will help you find the way."

()()()

Barbara tugged frantically on the door, but it held firm.
"Oh, this door's stronger than it looks."

"He's been gone ages," Susan exclaimed, "He'll be back soon. There's someone coming."

She gripped Barbara's arm, and both of them jumped back as the door was kicked open and a swarm of guards spilled into the shop, spearheaded by the Physician.

"There they are."

The soldiers grab the two women and lead them away.

It wasn't long before both women found themselves back at the Concierge at the mercy of its sleazy Jailer and heartless warden.

"So, you thought you'd escaped," the former sneered as he led them down the foul-smelling hallway, "Well, we're not as big a fools as you take us for. Ah, LeMaitre. Two recaptured prisoners."

The warden stepped into view and silently beckoned the Jailer over to him. He whispered something to him.

"Barbara, what do you think they're talking about?" Susan hissed.

"I don't know, but we'll find out soon enough."

"I'll see that your orders are carried out, Citizen," the Jailer concluded before turning to two guards, "Take the girl to the cells."

"No! Barbara!" Susan struggled against their hold as they grabbed her and hauled her away.

Barbara tried to follow, but the Jailer caught her wrist and held her back.

"Not you. You're wanted for questioning."

Barbara was led into LeMaitre's office.
"Citizen, LeMaitre thought you might like to question this prisoner," he announced.

The Doctor looked up as he entered. "What's that?"

Barbara's jaw dropped. "Doctor?"

"My dear Barbara!" the Time Lord exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing over to her.

"Doctor!" Barbara beamed as the Doctor hugged her, relieved.

"This is no prisoner," Terna added to the Jailer, "This is my cousin, who was accompanying me to Paris. I do believe we informed LeMaitre of this."

The Jailer flushed. "Oh, yes of course, madam. I apologize for the mistake."

"I certainly hope so," Terna snapped, "Now, out with you. We have matters to discuss."

()()()

The meeting place that had been arranged for Ian and Leon was an old crypt at a disused Church. The space was cold, damp, and low-ceilinged with thick Norman pillars that allowed very little light to enter the space.

Ian cautiously moved forward. "Leon?"

A figure stepped out of the shadows. "Yes. You must be Ian."

"That's right." Ian replied, not relaxing despite the smile the man he deduced to be Leon was wearing. He had a hunch something wasn't right.

"Are you alone?" Leon inquired.

"Yes, Jules said you might be able to help," Ian replied.

As soon as he'd spoken, he heard the sound of movement and jerked his head to see a half dozen men melt out of the darkness and surround him.

Ian exhaled. He knew it.
"Soldiers."

"Yes, I know." Leon's smile widened as he cocked his head to the side, "You walked right into my trap, didn't you, Ian?"

Ian shot him a murderous glare, seething as he then scanned the area, trying to find an opening.

"You can put all ideas of escape out of your head," Leon read through him, "And as for your rescue? Well, no one will come here, you can take my word for that."

"If I don't get back, Jules is going to get suspicious," Ian replied.

"By the time that happens, my friend, we shall have left," Leon asserted simply, "And afterwards we'll take care of him."

Three of the soldiers then grabbed Ian; he doesn't bother to struggle, realizing Leon is right as the other men chain him to a set of iron rings set into one of the pillars. He'd have to find another avenue of escape. But what?

"You never know who your friends are." Ian grimaced.

"My association with Jules was bound to come to an end," Leon replied with a shrug, "He already suspected that a traitor, if you want to use those words, was working in the organization. But it's no matter. We're ready now to close in on him, too."

"So what do you want with me?" Ian demanded.

"Information," Leon replied, "You will cooperate, Ian," he added when the man opened his mouth to retort, "Think about it. We have plenty of time."

With one final smile, he turned and left.

One of the soldiers grinned at him. "He's giving you time to consider."

"I don't need time," Ian spat, "I have no information."

"We'll decide that when you talk," the man replied, chuckling at his resolve, "And you'll talk. You'll talk."

()()()

Barbara couldn't seem to stop smiling.
"Oh, Doctor, I thought we were never going to see you again."

The Doctor chuckled, "You should know by now, young lady, that you can't get rid of the old Doctor as easily as that."

"Yes, we've been quite fortunate," Terna agreed.

"But Terna, why on earth did you come back to this dreadful place?" Barbara inquired of the Lyall.

"I needed the Omni-Vice. One of the guards threw it out the window."

"Oh, I see."

"And Susan's in the cells," the Doctor continued, "Now all that's left is to find Ian."

"No need for that," Barbara asserted, "He's waiting at the home of the men who rescued us."

"Oh, you found him then?" the Doctor deduced.

Barbara nodded. "Yes, pure stroke of luck."

Terna grinned, relieved. "Thank heavens for that."

Barbara turned to the Doctor. "Tell me, how did you get out of that burning farmhouse? "

"Oh, never mind about that now," the Doctor replied, waving his hand dismissively, "And what of Susan? How is she?"

"Yes, is she well?" Terna added.

"She's fine," Barbara replied, "She had a slight fever, but she's recovered now."

"Good. Well now, we must go retrieve Chesterton and try and get back to the ship," the Doctor declare.d

"Yes, where was that again? I forget the name." Terna inquired of Barbara.

"We were all in hiding at a house owned by a Jules Renan," Barbara replied.

Out in the hall, LeMaitre was listening at the door.

"Not now, Jailer," he hissed when said man approached him.

"But Citizen."

"Later!"

"But- ."

"I said, not now."

"I just had a message from the First Deputy, Citizen."

LeMaitre sighed, tearing himself away from the door. "Well, what is it?"

"Robespierre says he wants to see you immediately; it's a matter of the utmost importance," the Jailer hurriedly explained, "Robespierre said immediately, Citizen."

"Yes, yes." LeMaitre sighed, "Has the young girl been locked away?"

The Jailer nodded astutely, "She has. I saw to it myself, just as you ordered, Citizen."

"Good. She shall remain in her cell, do you understand? Under no circumstances is the door to be opened."

"Just as you say, Citizen."

"And if that order is disobeyed, I'll have you guillotined," LeMaitre declared darkly before he marched down the hall towards the prison gate.

()()()

"Yes, that's it! The physician must have been the rat," the Doctor deduced after hearing Barbara's story.

"Oh, I should never have taken Susan to see that physician," the woman replied.

"Oh, don't blame yourself, Barbara," the Doctor assured her, "As it happens, everything has turned out very well. It might have taken us ages to find each other."

"Do you think we stand a chance of getting out of here?" Barbara inquired.

"Well, my voice seems to carry some weight, hmm?" the Doctor reminded her.

"Yes, well, I'm not surprised in that get-up," Barbara replied, fighting hard to hide a smile.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Terna agreed.

"Now, listen," the Doctor continued, "We're going through that door. Give me a few minutes, then I want you to go through the door and straight out of the prison."

Barbara gawked. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely serious."

"Remember, the Doctor managed to clear your name," Terna reminded him.

"What about Susan?" Barbara asked.

"We'll look after her and follow later," Terna assured her.

"But Doctor, you-" Barbara continued to protest.

"Now, now, now, there's no buts. Don't argue," the Doctor urged, "You know my plans always work perfectly. Hmm? In a few minutes, then."

After their audience with Barbara, the Doctor and Terna exited LeMaitre's office to find the Jailer waiting for them.

"Ah, tell me. Is LeMaitre here?" the Doctor inquired of him.

"He's left to see Citizen Robespierre."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear. How irritating, and I did want him so urgently."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be back shortly, Citizen."

"No, no, no, this matter can't wait," the Doctor insisted, "It's urgent. I've just been interrogating my wife's cousin, and I'm now convinced she's a member of that dangerous Traitor's Party."

The Jailer's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, I see, I see."

Terna nodded, sighing dramatically. "It's quite tragic, but then again, she was always the black sheep of the family."

"And I'm sure she's swayed her daughter in that direction too," the Jailer mused.

Terna blinked in confusion. "Who?"

"The girl."

"Yes well, I think she could tell us the names of every traitor in this country," the Doctor continued.

"Perhaps we should make her talk?" the Jailer offered.

"No, no, chance of that," the Doctor asserted, "She'd rather die first than betray her friends. I think, if there's only some way of using her. If only we could get through her to her friends."

"Perhaps…." The Jailer trailed off.

"Perhaps what?" Terna asked.

"Well, if she were to escape, she could be followed," the Jailer offered, "She'd meet these traitors, than we'd arrest them. LeMaitre once did this."

The Doctor beamed. "My dear man, what an excellent idea! Isn't it an excellent idea?" he added to Terna.

"Yes, quite inspired," the Lyall agreed.

"Alright that's what we'll do, and LeMaitre will be delighted!" the Doctor declared, "Now look here, Mister Jailer, I want you to open those prison doors. Keep out of sight."

"Oh, but, uh…" the Jailer hesitated.

"Tch, tch, tch. No buts, no!" the Doctor chided, "And sooner or later, that young woman will come through those doors and we can grab her. Go along, quickly."

All three of them moved down the hall and ducked out of sight.

A few moments later, Barbara came out of the office, saw everything was clear, and walked out of the prison.

()()()

In the Church crypt, Ian twisted in his restraints, watching the soldier left to guard him slowly pace up and down in front of him.

"Getting impatient, are we?" the other man sneered, "That's a good sign; Citizen Colbert really knows how to make pigs like you squeal. He leaves them alone, lets them think. Now me, I have other ways."

Before Ian could react, he raised his hand and backhanded Ian across the face so hard he saw spots. Bleary, Ian shook his head as he tried to clear the haze, his head pounding as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Stop that," Leon scolded as he reentered the crypt, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid my men are very bad-tempered," he added to Ian. "Ian, I don't want anything to happen to you, really, but I think you have the information that will help the cause I believe in.

"You're wasting your time with me," Ian scoffed. "I'm very small fry."

"Surely you don't expect me to believe that?" Leon scoffed. "We learned of the existence of James Stirling two months ago. We've been searching for him ever since."

Ian arched an eyebrow. "We?"

Leon nodded. "Yes, I've been loyal to the Revolution from the beginning. If you'd known what France was like six years ago, before the Bastille, you'd understand."

"I do understand," Ian replied, "But I can't help you."

"Or you won't," Leon snapped. "France will never be anything until we're rid of these high-born leeches who've been sucking the life-blood of France for so long."

"You must believe me," Ian insisted. "I can help you in no way."

Leon sighed. "Ian, you can save yourself a lot of trouble and suffering by talking. This is your only chance. Do you realize that when I've finished with you I'll transfer you to the prison, and then to the guillotine?" He paused to lean forward, his voice growing quieter. "Now, if you were to talk, I have the power to set you free."

"Jules must have told you all I know," Ian retorted, unfazed.

"Ah yes, what did Jules say?" Leon paused as though trying to remember, "That Webster gave you a message to give to Stirling."

"Yes, that's right. Only I can't recognize Stirling. That's why I'm here."

"Oh, that I accept." Leon waved a hand dismissively, "But you must have known of their organization. You were in it with Webster. He would never have trusted you otherwise. Now, who sent you from England? How did you get here, and who helped you?

"What's the use?" Ian cried.

Leon shook his head in a patronizing manner as though he were scolding a small child. "I really don't understand what you hope to gain. If I don't get the information from you, I shall find it elsewhere. Now be sensible. Save yourself from the guillotine."

"You wouldn't believe my story anyway," Ian declared.

Leon's eyes narrowed; he crouched down in front of Ian, so he was eye level with him. "Suppose you let me be the judge of that? How did you get to France?"

Ian smirked. "You really want to know, eh?

"The truth?"

"Oh yes, it's the truth all right."

"You swear it?"

"Yes, I swear it," Ian's smiled widened to a grin. "I flew here with three friends in a small box. When I left England it was 1963."

"Oh for God's sake." Leon signaled to a soldier with a rather large bayonet. The man started forward but stopped short when a voice echoed throughout the crypt.

"All right, Leon. Release him."

Jules Renan appeared out of nowhere, shooting one soldier, who fell to the ground with a cry. Before anyone could react, Jules whipped his now empty pistol at Leon, hitting him in the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.
Another soldier draws his own musket, but Ian kicks it out of his hand. Jules rushed the now disarmed man and pinned his arms behind his back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian spots Leon stagger back to his feet, drawing two pistols.
"Jules!"

Jules turned towards Leon, pinning the solder in front of him as a shield, and both Leon's shots hit the other man instead. He screams and convulses, falling to the floor as Leon made for the musket on the ground.

Before he could make it, Jules drew a second pistol.
"You traitor. It's you who's the enemy of the people."

One shot through the chest, and Leon falls to the floor dead.

Ian gasped, his adrenaline dying down as Jules stepped over the body of his once friend and hurries over to release him.
"I thought I was going mad when I saw you here," Ian said to him, "Why did you come?"

"Bad news for you," Jules replied grimly.

"Oh?"

"Barbara and Susan were arrested at the physician."

Ian nodded gravely. "Yes, I feared that as soon as Leon turned up here. We must get to them."

"I think it's best to go back to my hide-out," Jules asserted.

"What? The soldiers will be there already," Ian protested.

Jules smiled sadly. "Well, if I know Leon, he will have wanted the satisfaction of arresting me himself. And anyway, we'll just have to risk it. Come on."

()()()

Susan sat in her cell, no longer feverish, but still feeling like she was going to be sick, overwhelmed by her current situation.

She jumped slightly when there was a tapping on the door.

"What is it? What do you want?" Susan snapped.

"Susan, Susan, it's us, child!" the Doctor called through the bars.

"Susan?" Terna added.

"Oh, Grandfather!" Susan jumped to her feet and rushed over to the door; peering through the bars, her face lit up when she saw Terna and her grandfather.
"Oh, Terna, you've found him! How'd you get away from the farmhouse?"

"Oh, I can't explain that now, child; it'd take too long," the Doctor replied dismissively.

"Barbara's here somewhere," Susan added, lowering her voice.

"Don't worry we've taken care of that," Terna assured her, "She should be out of the prison and well on her way now. And we-."

"Shh! There's someone coming!" the Doctor cut her off. "Quiet! We have to go, Susan. See you later."

"Be careful!" Susan whispered.

"Shh!" the Doctor called to her as they hurried off.

()()()

"But Citizen!" the Jailer cried, "Didn't you collect the soldiers and follow the released prisoner?"

"Me?" the Doctor exclaimed indignantly, "Certainly not!"

"But, w-why not?"

"I was under the impression, my dear man, that you were doing so," the Doctor replied as though this were obvious, "I'm hardly dressed in the proper clothes to go skulking after people, now am I?"

"I couldn't have gone," the Jailer replied, "I can't leave the prison."

"Well why didn't you say that in the first place?" Terna demanded.

"I...Uh."

"What do you think LeMaitre will say? He's bound to want to know whose idea it was."

"It was mine." The Jailer went very pale, "Citizen, you must help me."

"I'll try," the Doctor assured him, "Now, don't worry, I'll cover up for you. But you know, I have a feeling that this young girl is tied up in this somehow. Now I think if we let her go, I personally could follow, and then arrest all of them.

"Yes, and I could go with you," Terna added. "We'd be less conspicuous that way. Now, we need from you is the key to that child's cell," she added to the Jailer.

The Jailer shook his head vigorously. "Citizen, LeMaitre was very clear with his instructions. If that door is opened, I lose my head. That's wha-what LeMaitre said just before he left, that's what he said!"

"LeMaitre, LeMaitre. Why can't you use your own initiative, my man?" Terna exclaimed.

"Aye, well you must see him when he returns, Citizen," the Jailer replied, "I'm just a humble servant. If his orders are countermanded, well then…"

"I demand you open that cell door!" the Doctor commanded.

"To lose one prisoner is bad enough, to lose two would be the end of me," the Jailer exclaimed. "Especially after my orders. LeMaitre will be returning soon. We'll do as he says. Until then, that door remains closed.

()()()

Meanwhile, LeMaitre had just arrived at Robespierre's office where the tyrant of France was eagerly waiting for him.

"Ah good, LeMaitre. We are not to be disturbed," Robespierre nodded to his attendant, who nodded and bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him. "The news is serious, Citizen, and there is not much time," Robespierre added to LeMaitre.

"I am at your service," LeMaitre replied with a bow. "You have only to give the order."

"There is a meeting of the Convention tomorrow," Robespierre began.

"Yes, I know, Citizen."

"I have been warned that certain influential members, traitors, all of them, are planning to bring an indictment against another member."

LeMaitre arched an eyebrow. "You have their names?"

"Oh, I realize they are forever plotting," Robespierre continued, "But this latest information suggests that more and more of the Paris Commune are taking sides. The plan is that even I shall not be allowed to speak. They're out to destroy me!"

"All is not lost, Citizen," LeMaitre urged, "You still have many friends sitting in the Convention."

Robespierre shook his head, "But can I trust them? If this motion gets underway, they will turn against me to save their own necks. Mark my words, LeMaitre. If this plot is successful, tomorrow, the 27th of July 1794, will be a date for history."

"Tell me the leader of this group, Citizen," LeMaitre insisted. "He will be immediately executed."

"Patience, LeMaitre," Robespierre urged. "This is no lone voice we are fighting against. If they are to hold power, they will need the Army on their side. Meetings must have been arranged."

"By whom?"

"It is my guess that Deputy Paul Barrass is at the forefront of the rebels, but I must be certain before I strike. I shall not get a second chance, LeMaitre."

LeMaitre leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me what I must do."

"I understand that Barrass is leaving Paris tonight. I assume it must be for a meeting," Robespierre explained. "With the position as it is, it can be for no other reason. I want to know who with, and the decision. Given that, I can still defeat my enemies."

"What if he's just a decoy?"

"That is my worry, LeMaitre. Tonight my men will be everywhere. Barrass is your responsibility."

"I shall not fail you," LeMaitre declared with a bow, "Against which Member is the indictment being brought, Citizen?"

"Against me, LeMaitre!" the tyrant exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Against me, Robespierre!"

LeMaitre nodded, decided the best course of action would be to slowly back out of the room. He excused himself and stepped into the hall where he had a whispered conversation with a nearby guard before making his way back to the prison.

()()()

Ian and Jules were relieved to find the hideout no swarmed with soldiers upon returning to it.
"We're safe here for the moment," the latter surmised, "But I shall have to give up this house very soon. It's becoming too dangerous."

"Ian?" The addressed whirled around in time to see Barbara step into view.

"Barbara!" Ian's face lit up, his ordeal instantly forgotten as he ran up to hug her. "We thought you'd been arrested."

"Yes, we were," Barbara replied, "But when we got to the prison, the Doctor and Terna were there."

Ian gaped. "What?"

"Yes, the Doctor is dressed up as if he's running the revolution!" Barbara exclaimed with a grin. "From what I could gather, half the people there take orders from him."

Ian smirked knowingly. "That sounds like the Doctor, all right."

"The Doctor?" Jules raised a brow, "You mean Susan's grandfather?"

"Yes, that's right," Barbara replied.

"Where's Susan?" Ian asked her.

"Oh, she'll be along later with him. I just walked out."

Ian gawked. "Walked out? But…" he relented, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all. "I don't know how he gets away with it half the time. What did they say?"

"Well, not very much, we didn't have a chance," Barbara admitted, "But they'll all be here soon, so no doubt we'll get the whole story, several times. What have you been?"

Ian grimaced. "Let's just say I fell into the wrong hands, and Jules arrived in time."

"And Leon?"

"He's dead, Barbara," Jules replied, "I killed him."

Barbara paled. "Killed him?"

"Yes. He was the traitor we were looking for."

"It was the only way, Barbara," Ian added.

"He deserved to die," Jules continued bitterly, "He was a traitor."

Barbara shook her head in disbelief. "What do you mean, he was a traitor?"

"When I got to the church, he turned on me," Ian explained. "He was going to kill me."

"He betrayed us, Barbara," Jules added.

"He was a traitor to you," Barbara retorted, "To his side he was a patriot."

"Barbara, we've taken sides just by being here," Ian insisted, "Jules actually shot him; it could just as easily have been me"

"And what about Robespierre?" Jules demanded, "I suppose you think- ."

"Well, just because an extremist like Robespierre- ." Barbara began, but Ian cut her off.

"Oh, Barbara, Jules is our friend. He saved our lives!"

"I know all that!" Barbara cried, overwhelmed as tears brimmed in her eyes. "The revolution isn't all bad, and neither are the people who support it. It changed things for the whole world, and good, honest people gave their lives for that change."

'Well, he got what he deserved," Ian declared.

Barbara glared at him. "You check your history books, Ian, before you decide what people deserve."

()()()

Susan was just about to lose her mind with impatience and worry when she heard a familiar voice whisper to her through the bars.

"Susan."

"Oh, Terna!" Susan jumped up and rushed over to her, "I thought you were never coming. Where is Grandfather?"

"He's taking care of something," Terna replied, "We shall have you out of here soon, but I need you to do something for me. I want you to get down onto the floor, behind this door, and don't move, whatever you do."

"But Terna- ," Susan started to protest.

"Do it now, Susan," Terna urged. "Don't argue, do it now. And don't make a sound! Stay there! There's someone coming."

Tentatively, Susan obliged, crouching down behind the door.
"Be careful!"

"Yes, yes, now keep quiet."

Checking to make sure no one saw what she was doing, Terna then ran down the hall towards the Jailer's office.

"Oh, it'll be the end of me, this business," the Jailer wailed, "I don't know what LeMaitre will say."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Oh, he's not back yet then, eh?"

"Oh, but we expect him any minute, and then- ." The Jailer was cut off as Terna suddenly burst into the room.

"Jailer! Jailer! That young girl, she's gone!"

"What?" the Jailer shrieked.

"She's gone?!" the Doctor exclaimed.

The Jailer shoved him aside as he sprinted out of his office and down the corridor to Susan's cell.

He peered through the barred window, scanning desperately for any sign of the prisoner, but found none.
"She's gone!"

Desperately, he fumbled for the keys at his belt, but never got them as Terna knocked him out with her sword hilt.

The Doctor took the keys from him and unlocked the door.
"Come along, child, quickly!" he urged Susan, who gratefully exited the cell.

The trio of aliens made to leave, but they ran straight into LeMaitre.

The warden looked at them, momentarily startled.

"Guards! Guards!" he hollered before any of them could respond.

Once again, the Doctor, Terna, and Susan found themselves surrounded by guards.

The Jailer picked himself off the ground, massaging his head. "They tricked me, Citizen. They tricked me!"

"Lock her away," LeMaitre ordered the guards. One of them grabbed Susan and shoved her back into the cell, locking it securely behind her.

"They did as you said they would, Citizen," the Jailer continued, "They tried to get the young girl released, and he let the other prisoner go."

"Oh, spare your breath, please!" the Doctor snapped at him, "I'm quite capable of explaining the situation myself."

"All right, Jailer," LeMaitre urged him before turning to the Doctor and Terna. "I think it's about time we had a talk."

()()()

"I must insist that you release that young child immediately!" the Doctor cried.

"I'm afraid you're not in a position to insist on anything at the moment," LeMaitre calmly replied.

"Position, sir?" the Doctor exclaimed, "Do you realize who you're talking to?"

"Not yet. But I intend to find out. Do you recognize this, Citizen?" LeMaitre held up the Doctor's ring.

The Doctor felt like his hearts had switched places with his stomach; it was a struggle to keep his expression neutral.
"No. Should I?"

LeMaitre opened a drawer on his office desk and pulled out the Doctor's clothes.
"And these? They're yours, aren't they? Given in exchange for those rather splendid clothes and the insignia of a Regional Provincial Deputy."

"Do you know that's the biggest fairy story I've ever heard in my life," the Doctor declared.

"Utterly ridiculous," Terna agreed, "Those clothes could belong to anyone. You're grasping at straws, LeMaitre."

LeMaitre glared at them. "I could have had you both arrested any time I wanted!"

"Yes. Why didn't you then?" the Doctor demanded, casually sliding the ring back on his finger.

LeMaitre rolled his eyes. "Please, please, keep it," he grumbled sarcastically. "Why didn't I? Well, with the political situation as it is, and my position being what it is, I need friends even if they're enemies. People I can call on for help. If I have something on them, so much the better."

"It's become quite obvious to me why you didn't wish us to leave the prison," the Doctor stated knowingly.

"I knew I'd never see you again if you did," LeMaitre replied.

"But you relaxed the regulations today," Terna remarked, "We could have walked out any time we wished."

"And leave your granddaughter? Just an assumption, but obviously correct," LeMaitre surmised, noting both Terna and the Doctor's stunned expressions. "I knew I had you so long as she remained here under lock and key. If you remember, when I first met you, you were inquiring after your friends. The young woman, whom the jailer says you've just released, the girl and, what was his name? Ian?"

The Doctor was astounded. "So you knew all the time?"

LeMaitre smiled. "Let's just say I added to my knowledge. Listening at doors can still be effective."

The Doctor sighed, realizing the game was up. "What do you want?"

LeMaitre looked delighted. "Ah. So I see we understand each other. If you agree to help me, your granddaughter will be released after you have kept your side of the bargain."

"You can't possibly think- ." Terna started, but the Doctor held up a hand to silence her.

"The least we can do is listen."

"Good. Now, I'm reasonably certain that your group are working with, or for, Jules Renan. I think you used his hideout. Certainly you know where it is, and if you don't, your granddaughter does.

"I have never met the man!" the Doctor asserted, "Oh, I fully appreciate why you must want to find him, but if you think that we are going to betray him, then you are a very poor judge of character."

The smile never left LeMaitre's face. "If you want your granddaughter released, you will have to take me to his hideout."

"Never," Terna retorted. "We refuse!"

LeMaitre's eyes narrowed. "I repeat: if you want your granddaughter released, you do not have a choice."

()()()

Barbara sat on the sofa in Jules's sitting room, having not said a word to anyone since she'd learned of Leon's death.

She looked up as Ian entered.
"Where's Jules?"

"He went to the end of the street, to look for Susan Terna, and the Doctor."

"Well, the Doctor would have to wait for the right moment," Barbara surmised.

"Yes, but how long can we wait?"

"Oh, I don't know." Barbara dropped her eyes, wringing her hands. "Whenever somebody passes the house, I think it might be them."

"Yes, I know." Ian sighed, moving to sit on the couch beside her, "Barbara, I'm sorry about Leon, but it really was the only way. Believe me."

Barbara sighed. "I know. I wanted to apologize to Jules." She shook her head, tears once again threatening to fall, "I'm so sick and tired of death, Ian. We never seem able to get away from it."

Before Ian could respond, Jules entered.
"There's no sign of your friends."

"Well, we must wait a little longer," Barbara declared.

"I left the door unlatched," Jules replied.

"Oh, so now anyone can walk in?" Ian almost snapped.

"Try and be patient, Ian," Jules urged. "I know these long hours of waiting only too well. I've had my share."

Barbara looked to him, her eyes shining. "Jules, when I spoke to you before, I…The things I said."

"You said because of Leon," Jules finished for her. "Yes, I know, but I did what I had to do because of what he represents. Do you ever wonder why I'm doing these things, hiding in shadows, fighting in corners?"

"We took it for granted you belonged to the other side: the aristocracy," Ian admitted.

"No, I have no title or position," Jules replied with a shrug. "I belong, well, in the middle. But I hate to see order thrown out of the window like so much dust. There can be no loyalty or honor where anarchy prevails."

"And Leon was your friend," Barbara whispered.

"There are only two sides today, Barbara," Jules explained, "Those who rule by fear and treachery, and those who fight for reason and justice. Anyone who betrays these principles is worse than the devil in hell."

At that moment, the door opened.

Ian rose to his feet. "Here they are."

The Doctor entered along with Terna, but Susan was not with them.
Someone else was.

"LeMaitre!" Barbara cried as she and Ian jumped to their feet.

Jules reached for his pistol. "Your friends have betrayed us!"

"Hold it! Whoa, put the gun down," Terna urged, holding up her hands in submission.

"Have you brought the soldiers?" Ian demanded of LeMaitre.

"No, I came alone and unarmed," he calmly replied. "Ask your friends."

"We did come alone, my boy," the Doctor confirmed, "We made a bargain."

"A what?" Ian gaped.

"Ian, let him speak," Terna urged. "He holds Susan prisoner."

"What could you have to say to us?" Jules spat, his hand never leaving the weapon at his hip.

LeMaitre raised his hands. "Please, I come as a friend."

"A friend?" Barbara asked.

LeMaitre nodded. "Ian will tell you that what I say is true."

Ian blinked. "I will?"

"Well, surely you realize that your escape from prison was arranged?" LeMaitre replied as though this were obvious. "I saw to it that you got the key, and I took care of the jailer."

Ian gawked. "You did? Why? Why should you do that?"

"I was certain in my own mind that Webster gave you a message to deliver," LeMaitre replied. "You had to have the opportunity to deliver it. Unfortunately, I don't have enough time to wait now. I have to collect.

"Collect?"

LeMaitre smiled. "Yes. I am James Stirling."

Ian reeled, shocked. Everyone was. "Stirling? You?"

LeMaitre, or Stirling rather, laughed. "Is it so surprising? You must have already decided that to be of any use I would have to hold some position of authority."

"Why have you not made yourself known here before?" Jules inquired, "Webster had been told about me."

"I've been in France several years," Stirling explained. "When I came over you must have been unknown to us; although, I'm not sure I would have contacted you even if I could. I prefer to work alone."

"You could have made yourself known to me in prison," Ian stated.

"Yes, but I didn't know whether I could trust you," Stirling replied, "After all, I had no idea who you were. I also could have been overheard. No, Ian, I took the only course possible."

"That's all very well, LeMaitre, Stirling, or whatever your name is," the Doctor interjected, "But the only reason Terna and I brought you here was to help Susan. And we've kept my part of the bargain."

"I know, but let me explain my position."

"I certainly will not!" the Doctor snapped, "I want my granddaughter out of that prison!"

"Doctor, calm down," Terna urged.

"She already has been out of that prison, and she was rearrested," Stirling reminded him. "I will help you if you will help me. Don't you see? I can use my authority to get safe passage for all of you to wherever you want to go."

"But look here- ." The Doctor started, but Ian cut him off.

"He's right, Doctor."

"Yes, but you have to promise no harm will come to Susan," Terna added to Susan.

Stirling nodded. "I promise. I gave orders that she was to remain in the cell. Now you know that's true. The Jailer would die rather than see that cell door opened again."

"Very well" the Doctor relented, "If you must tell your story, then get on with it."

Stirling turned to Ian. "First, the message."

"Oh, Webster said very little," Ian admitted. "He was badly wounded as you know."

"Yes. I know that," Stirling replied, "I read reports of all arrests in case something like this happens. It's why I came to your cell, I realized that he could have been Webster. I've been expecting to be contacted for months."

"He didn't know where you were, or even where I could find you," Ian added.

"No, the plan was that he was to look for and recognize me." Stirling dropped his eyes, "He was a good friend."

"Ian, the message." Terna pressed.

"He said you were to return to England immediately," Ian informed Stirling, "It seems that whatever information you have is wanted there urgently."

Stirling arched a brow. "Nothing more?"

Ian nodded. "That was all Webster said."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, he mumbled occasionally," Ian admitted, "Odd words. But what I've just told you was all he asked me to tell you."

"What were these mumblings about?" Stirling inquired.

"Oh, well, they didn't really make sense," Ian replied. "He was unconscious; he said strange things. I can't really remember now."

"He may have realized that he didn't have very much time," Stirling inferred.

"Yes. I'm afraid I can't remember them," Ian added.

"Well, I'm already planning my return to England," Stirling declared, "But before I go, and before I can give you all safe passage, there is one more piece of information I must have."

"You asked for our help. What can we do?" Barbara asked, "You have all the power."

"Robespierre sent for me today," Stirling explained, "There is another plot to depose him."

"Will it succeed, do you think?" Jules asked.

Stirling shrugged. "Possibly. He gave orders that I should follow Paul Barrass, a deputy, and report back on a meeting."

"Barrass…Meeting…Webster did speak of that," Ian recalled.

"What did he say?" Stirling asked.

"Well, nothing specific but he said Barrass, meeting, and something about a sinking ship," Ian replied. "No. No, The Sinking Ship. That was it!"

"Just a moment. There's an inn called The Sinking Ship on the Calais Road," Jules exclaimed, "It would be ideal for a secret meeting."

Stirling nodded. "Right. Better than following him, we can plan a reception committee. If I can discover the results of this meeting, I'll be ready to return to England, and I'm free to help you."

"Have you any idea who Barrass is meeting?" Barbara asked.

Stirling shook his head. "No, but whoever he is, he could be the next ruler of France."

"I still don't understand why you need our help," Ian remarked.

"Barrass knows me by sight, I'm sure of that. He could even know of you, Doctor," Stirling explained. "Now my plan, if you agree, is for Barbara and Ian to attend the meeting."

"Nonsense!" the Doctor exclaimed, "It's far too risky."

"Why not use your own men?" Ian inquired. "You would still learn the details."

"True, but then they would also know, and they may talk. Then I have no advantage."

Barbara turned to Ian. "I think we should go"

Ian sighed. "It's risky, but we're not going to get away without help."

"Quite so," the Doctor agreed, "And there's Susan to think about."

"Then you agree to go?" Stirling asked.

Barbara nodded. "Yes."

"We agree," Ian added.

"I'll go too," Terna piped up, "My role in all this has been pretty irrelevant, and I also wish to help."

Stirling nodded. "Very well, the Doctor and I will remain here. If we're seen, it could hinder you, or worse."

"I'll take them to the inn, Stirling," Jules offered, "If you've no objection."

"Good. I was going to ask you to. Now, when you get there I suggest that the innkeeper- ."

"You can leave it to us, Stirling," Jules replied with a sly smirk.

Stirling relented, smiling slightly. "Sorry, I know I can. You should have little difficulty getting there tonight. Stay the night and return here tomorrow morning. That way you won't run into any patrols. Now, where exactly is this inn, Jules?"

"It's a good two hours ride. We'll take the Calais road and ride due north. When we reach this fork we'll see a forest. We'll circle it and ride west."

"Alright then," Terna declared, "Let's get going."

()()()

The Sinking Ship was a rather rundown little tavern, but Terna supposed that might be the point. She and Barbara were masquerading as waitresses, the latter serving Jules drinks as he sat by the door.

"Thank you," Jules said as she handed him a beer.

"Well, if this is a typical night's trade, I'm not surprised this place was chosen," Barbara whispered to him.

Terna approached them. "I've bound and gagged the innkeeper and left him in the wine cellar. He'll be found when we leave."

"Ian's nearly finished," Barbara added.

Jules nodded. "Good."

Barbara glanced around at the nearly empty tavern. "You know, if Barrass doesn't arrive soon, he'll find the place closed."

"Perhaps that's what he's waiting for," Jules offered.

Barbara nodded in agreement before she and Terna hurried to the back room to check on Ian.

When they entered the back room, they found him furiously whittling away a small hole just large enough for a single eye through the wall behind the bar.

"Are you through?" Barbara aske.

"Yes, I think that'll do it," Ian replied. "Many out there?"

"Just two. They look set for the night."

"And Jules, of course," Terna added.

"What did you do with the innkeeper?" Ian asked her.

"Put him in the cellar."

"Good." Ian paused for one last look at the spy hole. "Yes, looks all right. Now we're ready for them."

At that moment, the door opened with a fierce gust of wind and a cloaked man stepped into the tavern.

From his spot in the corner, Jules signaled with his pipe that it was Barrass.

Ian hurried forward. "Ah, let me take your cloak, Citizen. Horrible night."

Barrass eyed him suspiciously. "Where is Jacques?"

"Ah, Jacques? Oh, he's sick," Ian replied quickly. "He asked me to help him out. You must be the citizen who ordered the room. This way. This way, Citizen. Here we are."

He led Barrass the back room where Barbara was waiting for him.

"Can I get you anything, Citizen?"

"Yes, some wine."

"How many guests are you expecting?"

"Just the one."

Barbara nodded before heading over to the bar.
"There'll only be two of them," she whispered to Terna as she hands her a bottle and two glasses

Barbara took them into the back just as the other bar patrons left.

"Goodnight!" Ian called to them.

"Goodnight!"

As soon as the door closed, Jules jumped up and slipped outside to stop any more unwanted customers.

"As soon as his guest comes you can lock up," Ian whispered to Barbara.

Outside, the sound of a coach pulling up in front of the tavern can be heard. A few minutes later, a man in uniform came inside and went straight through to the back room.

"Did you see who it was?" Barbara whispered.

Ian shook his head. "No. Did you?"

"No."

They hurried behind the bar where Terna was standing on tip toe, squinting through the peephole.
"Can you see?" Barbara asked her.

"Yes, the other man took his cloak off. Barrass is talking to him."

"Do you know who it is?"

"How would I know? But Barrass did call him General."

"Here, let me see," Ian offered. Terna stepped aside, and he crouched down for a look.
"Barbara! It's Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte!"

"Shut up," Terna hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth.

All three of them pressed closer to the wall, so as to hear what they were saying.

"We're quite safe here. I made certain I wasn't followed," Barrass declared.

"The meeting place was well chosen," Napoleon replied.

Barrass nodded. "I, uh, assume from your presence here that you're interested in my proposition."

"Interested, obviously. But, no more. At least, not until you disclose the full details."

"Robespierre will be arrested after tomorrow's convention meeting."

Napoleon looked unconvinced. "Will be? It won't be the first attempt."

"But it will be the successful one," Barrass insisted, "He'll be tried and executed before his friends have time to reorganize."

"You make it sound simple, Barrass. I think you underestimate Robespierre. He has a talent for commanding support."

"Only if he is allowed to speak, and he won't be able to."

"As far as I'm concerned, your success or failure means very little to me."

"Oh, possibly, but only for the immediate future. Success could well mean that I would take control of the governing committee."

Napoleon looked intrigued. "Would it be within constitutional rights?"

"The constitution could be amended," Barrass replied simply. "Oh, I'm well aware of your disgust for politicians, tearing France to pieces while her enemies wait to pounce."

"Exactly," Napoleon replied. "What is your proposal?"

"I believe that to rule a country successfully, one needs a certain support from the people being governed."

"Agreed, and how do you plan to raise that support?"

"With you: your victories, inspiring victories, in the Austrian Wars have made you a public figure. You're a hero in the people's eyes."

Napoleon arched an eyebrow. "And in your eyes? A useful prop for your new government."

"Oh, come, General. You would be more than just a figurehead."

"Yes, I know I would. I'm glad you appreciate it. In which capacity would you require me to serve?"

"The constitution amendment would call for a government of three consuls," Barrass explained, "You would be one of them."

"When would you require my decision?"

"Now."

"If I refuse?"

"You're in a strong position, Bonaparte, but hardly indispensable. There are other young men equally ambitious."

Napoleon smiled, seemingly realizing Barrass was right.
"I accept, dependent on Robespierre's downfall. In the event of failure, I shall of course deny this meeting ever took place."

Barrass nodded in understanding. "I will summon you to Paris as soon as a suitable time has elapsed."

"I shall be ready to take over."

()()()

Stirling was aghast. "Napoleon? Napoleon as ruler of France?"

"Yes. As one of three consuls," Barbara concluded.

"He won't be content with that," Stirling declared, "I've watched his promotions. Bonaparte's clever and ambitious. If he gets a foothold to power, one day he will rule France."

"Our only concern now is Susan," the Doctor reminded him.

"She's only part of it, Doctor," Stirling insisted. "If they take Robespierre to the prison we might find it hard to get in there, let alone get out."

"You made a bargain with us," Terna declared.

"And I'll keep to it."

"You knew this might happen," Ian inferred.

"Yes, but I had no idea Barrass was so strong," Stirling replied, "Jules. What time is this convention meeting?"

"It will be over by now."

"Then Robespierre could already be under arrest," Stirling mused, "I must find out. There may still be time."

"You'd keep Robespierre as ruler of France?" Barbara exclaimed.

Stirling smiled grimly. "It is better than the alternative."

"We need a strong government, but not a military dictatorship," Jules agreed, "And it could happen."

"It will happen," Barbara whispered.

"Oh, save your breath, my dear," the Doctor chided before turning back to Stirling. "Do as you think fit. I'm going off for Susan."

"I'm coming with you," Terna added.

"Yes and take Barbara with you as well," Stirling said to them, "Let her hide outside the prison. Jules?"

"Yes?"

"Get a carriage. Take her to the prison. If there are crowds, wait until they disperse. Barbara will watch out for you."

"Right."

"If you can get Susan, take her and join Barbara and wait for the carriage," Stirling added to Terna and the Doctor, "Ian and myself will join you as soon as we can."

"Where shall we go?" Ian asked.

"To the palace. We'll get news of Robespierre. If you're not outside the prison when we return, I'll come for you."

"Go with him, my boy," the Doctor urged Ian, "You can at least make sure that he helps us."

Ian nodded. "All right. I'll see you outside the prison. Good luck."

"Same to you," Terna replied.

"Take care, Ian," Barbara added, a small smile playing on her lips.

"What is it? What do you find so amusing, hmm?" the Doctor asked her.

"It's this feverish activity to try and stop something that we know is going to happen," Barbara replied. "Robespierre will be guillotined whatever we do."

"I've told you of our position so often," the Doctor reminded her.

"Yes, I know. You can't influence or change history; I learned that lesson with the Aztecs."

"The events will happen, just as they are written," Terna mused, "We can't stem the tide, but at least we can stop being carried away with the flood!"

"Yes," the Doctor agreed, "And now, Susan and the prison."

()()()

Ian and Stirling sprint down the halls of the palace, heading for Robespierre's office. As they approach, they hear the Tyrant himself addressing some men that had flooded his office with hostile intent.

"…If, citizens, you swear your allegiance to me now, I will promise your safety. I promise to save France. I will promise-!"

BANG!

Stirling started forward, but Ian held him back.

"Ha! That'll keep you quiet for a while," a soldiers bars. "No more talk out of him. Come on, Citizen, to the prison."

Stirling and Ian flatten themselves against the wall as the pack of soldiers drag a bleeding and gasping Robespierre out of the office and down the hall.

"You should have let me go in, Ian," Stirling whispered.

"No, Stirling. Robespierre's finished," Ian asserted, "We were too late."

Stirling nodded. "Yes. Did you hear the men? They're taking him to the prison."

"Yes, it's up to the Doctor now."

()()()

When the Doctor, Terna, and Barbara arrived at the prison, it was pouring rain.

"I think we're going to have quite a storm," the Doctor remarked as they crouched in the overhang of a building across from the Conciergerie.

"Yes, we were lucky to find shelter so near the prison," Barbara agreed.

"The prison that Susan's still in," Terna added.

"Hmm, we've waited around here long enough," the Doctor declared. "It's far too conspicuous. I think the carriage might be here when I return. Will you be all right?" he asked Barbara.

"Yes, of course."

"I think I'll go and get Susan, or at least try. Terna, come with me."

"Of course."

"Be careful," Barbara urged them.

()()()

When the Doctor and Terna entered the prison, they found the Jailer drinking with several guards.

"Up with the Revolution," the man exclaimed, a stupid grin across his face. It faded when he saw the Doctor and Terna "You! You came back."

The Doctor smirked. "I see you did not expect us."

"No, but I am glad you came," the Jailer replied, stumbling over to them, "I still have a score to settle with you two."

Terna raised an eyebrow. "Really? I see you haven't heard the news then."

"Who hasn't?" the Jailer scoffed. "Robespierre has been overthrown!"

"Yes, and LeMaitre was shot trying to run away," Terna continued.

The Jailer paled. "LeMaitre, shot?"

"Shot," the Doctor confirmed. "And now I've come to deal with his accomplices."

The Jailer staggered back. "W-Who are you?"

"Why do you think a high-ranking official like myself came to Paris, hmm?" the Doctor replied teasingly, "I was part of the plan."

"We both were," Terna agreed. "We came to make sure of Robespierre's downfall."

"I-I didn't know, Citizens," the Jailer stammered.

"No, you didn't, did you?" the Doctor agreed, "And that is why you didn't expect us to come back. You thought you'd get away with it."

The Jailer's eye widened, "G-Get away with what?"

"Being LeMaitre's accomplice. Take him!" he baked to the soldiers, who jumped up and grabbed the Jailer. "You were LeMaitre's accomplice, weren't you? You did help him to carry out his torturous actions?"

"I only carried out the orders I was given, Citizen," the Jailer protested.

"Orders? Orders!" the Doctor scoffed, "Don't tell me that, my man, I was there, remember? I saw you conniving with him all the time."

"I didn't, Citizen," the Jailer wailed.

"It was you that betrayed me and my wife to LeMaitre, was it not?"

"Well, after all, Citizen, your wife did hit me on the head," the Jailer grasped desperately, "And how was I to know LeMaitre was a traitor? And, well, you, Citizen, you, well, that was a secret wasn't it?"

"Well, I suppose there's some logic in that," the Doctor admitted, "I can't decide whether you're a rogue or a half-wit or both. Ha!" he chuckled at the Jailer's terrified expression, "However, I will give you the benefit of the doubt."
He turned to the guards "Get out. Now, while we're reconsidering the post of jailer you may stay here in a temporary capacity."

The man gasped with relief as the guards released him and left. "Thank you, Citizen. You won't regret it, I promise you."

"I hope not. Now, Robespierre's friends smuggled him away after the convention," the Doctor explained, "The soldiers are after him. He will be caught and probably brought here."

"Ah, well we'll look after him, Citizen. Never fear," the Jailer reassured him.

"Tomorrow there will be a new bunch of prisoners," Terna added, "Robespierre's friends, so I hope everything will be ready, including the cells?"

"Well," the Jailer hesitated, "Shall I release the prisoners, Citizen?"

"Certainly. Now let me have the key to the dungeon."

()()()

Outside the prison, Barbara saw soldiers arrive at the prison gates.
"Open up! We've got Robespierre!"

"Are the Doctor and Terna back yet?" Ian asked her.

"No, but they've got Robespierre! I've just seen them take him into the prison."

"Yes, we followed them here," Stirling replied, "Perhaps I'd better go and see what's happened."

"You stay where you are, Stirling," Ian urged, "You set one foot inside that prison and you'll be arrested. We must wait until Jules arrives with the carriage."

"And you obviously didn't get to Robespierre," Barbara whispered to Ian.

"No."

"We saw him taken," Stirling added, "He was shot in the jaw."

"Is Jules going to be able to see us from here?" Ian asked Barbara.

"I think so. At least this storm will allow him to pull up in front of the prison."

"I shall be heading for Calais," Stirling continued, "I can get a boat from there."

"Good. We can save you some time," Ian said to him, "We're going the same way."

"While we're waiting, you might as well explain exactly where it is you're making for," Stirling replied.

"Well, as far as I can remember from the map I saw in the hideout, we head north of Paris," Barbara explained.

"Here's Jules!" Ian suddenly called as said man arrived.

()()()

The Doctor and Terna let Susan out of the cell.

"Oh, Grandfather! Terna!" the young girl exclaimed, rushing forward to hug Terna around the waist.

"It's alright, Susan," the Lyall assured her, tentatively hugging her back. "We're all going back to the TARDIS. It's all over now."

"Where are the others?" she inquired.

"Barbara's outside and Ian should arrive at any moment," the Doctor explained, "We have a carriage waiting."

"A carriage?" Susan smiled in relief, "Oh, that's better than a tumbril."

Terna laughed. "Yes, indeed."

The sounds of rioting coming from outside made all three of them turn towards the window.
"What's happening?" Susan asked.

"They've just heard about the downfall of Robespierre," the Doctor replied. "A sort of celebration, you know?"

"Oh, look!" Susan pointed down the hall just as a group of soldiers dragged Robespierre inside.

"Jailer!"

"Yes. What is it?"

"A prisoner for you." They throw Robespierre at the Jailer's feet.

"Oh, Citizen Robespierre?" the Jailer bowed mockingly, "This is indeed an honor."

"Don't waste your breath on him," the soldier explained, "He can't answer you back. He tried writing us a letter but, too bad we don't read, eh?"

Susan gripped Terna's hand. "Let's go back to the Tardis."

"Yes, let's."

"The rabble are far too busy to bother about us," the Doctor added, "Everybody lived in fear yesterday of that man, and today-well, those at the top have the farthest to fall."

()()()

While waiting for the others, Ian talked with Jean while Barbara showed Stirling where they had left the TARDIS.
"Yes, the fall of Robespierre has changed everything for me," Jean was saying as they slipped away.

"I'm sure it has, Jules," Ian agreed, "What are you going to do now?"

"First I must find Jean. Then I shall wait somewhere in the country and see how this situation in Paris develops."

"Going to be disturbed for a long time, I think," Ian mused.

"Yes, I know. I wonder who will emerge as the next ruler of France?

"Remember the name, Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Corsican?" Jules scoffed, "Ruling France?"

Stirling examined a map, noting the spot Barbara had indicated, "Well, if you're certain that's where you want to be left."

"That's the place," Barbara agreed. "We'll be safe there."

"Yes, but I don't-. " Stirling started, but Barbara cut him off.

"Please, no questions. Promise?"

"Very well, if that's what you want," Stirling relented, "Now then I'm going home, I just can't wait to see England again."

Barbara smiled wistfully. 'Oh, England. I know how you feel only too well."

"Why don't you all come with me?"

"Uh, no. We must travel our way."

Stirling eyed her oddly. "Barbara, who are you really? Where do you all come from?"

"Here they are!" Jules suddenly cried just as the Doctor, Terna, and Barbara ran up to them.

"Susan's with them!" Ian exclaimed.

"Ian!" the young girl rushed towards them.

"Now come along," the Doctor urged, "Don't stand around. It's too dangerous."

"Hurry," Terna agreed.

"Come, LeMaitre," Jules said to Stirling as they all clambered into the carriage. "We mustn't keep them waiting. I hope they have a pleasant journey."

"So do I. But to where, Jules?" Stirling mused. "Funny, I get the impression they don't know where they're heading for. Come to that, do any of us?"

()()()

One bumpy carriage ride and last farewells to Stirling and Jules later, the Doctor, Terna, Susan, Barbara, and Ian were all gathered in the TARDIS, finally able to discuss all they had transpired now that they were safely out of danger.

"Well, I can assure you, my dear Barbara," the Doctor was saying, "Napoleon would never have believed you."

"Yes, Doctor, but supposing we had written Napoleon a letter, telling him," Ian offered, "You know, some of the things that were going to happen to him."

"It wouldn't have made any difference, Ian," Susan replied, "He'd have forgotten it, or lost it, or thought it was written by a maniac."

"I suppose if we'd tried to kill him with a gun, the bullet would have missed him," Barbara added.

"Or it wouldn't have and then we'd have that mess with the Aztecs all over again," Terna reminded her.

"Well, it's hardly fair to speculate, is it?" the Doctor remarked. "No, I'm afraid you belittle things. Our lives are important, at least to us. But as we see, so we learn."

"And what are we going to see and learn next, Doctor?" Ian asked.

The Doctor smiled.
"Well, unlike the old age, my boy, our destiny is in the stars, so let's go and search for it."

---

A/N:Next Week: Planet of Giants