Lyssa crossed her arms with a huff as she glared up at the Doctor from her position on the bed. The Doctor, remaining completely unaffected by the force of the glare, only laughed at her, though both of them made sure that their conversations were unable to be heard by the patient in the curtained bed a few yards away.

"Why did we decide it had to be me again?" she whined, rubbing her eyes. "I don't like hospital clothes, and I'm pretty sure we can both agree I've had to wear them far too often. Besides, what if they can tell there's something different about me?"

The Doctor waved a hand in the air and sat down in the chair next to her bed. "Their equipment's too primitive to detect the time energy in you, and you still appear fairly human otherwise. Besides, out of the two of us, which one has two audible heartbeats? And, might I add, you are the one out of the two of us who actually is sick. The best lie is the one that has some truth in it, you know."

Lyssa sneezed into her gown before wiping her nose. "Fairly human? Oh, gee, thanks. It's nice to know that I still appear fairly human. Thanks for letting me know about that earlier, by the way. And your point is irrelevant. It's just a cold," she insisted.

The Doctor leaned back in his chair and eyed her disbelievingly. "Yeah. All right. Just a cold that gives you a fever and makes you sleep half the day. Just a virus that came on when you were still trying to return to your normal energy levels. Definitely not something to be worried about at all." He lost the sarcastic tone momentarily. "But don't stress out and think you're not human because of the energy in you. Don't define yourself by your race. Define yourself by your deeds."

"That's... actually really deep," Lyssa acknowledged reluctantly. "And I'm not really freaking out because I suppose it's only logical that if you have time energy in your body, your body changes with it. You did tell me that my body changed so I could survive. I get that, and I've accepted it. Again, I guess I just thought that surely you'd have me bundled up in the Infirmary, and refused to let me leave, rather than here on Earth, where they can't accurately treat all my issues."

"I can't actually treat you until all your symptoms are present," the Doctor informed her. "Since this is something that affects your time levels, it will react a bit differently. Which means I need to make sure I have the correct diagnosis before I give you a treatment. Everything they could give you here won't really affect you, it just might even make you feel better. And, you know, we needed to check out this hospital. And if they detect any changes - which they shouldn't - it'll just seem like an abnormality. Lots of humans have heart defects, for example."

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. More like you just wanted to get me out of the TARDIS, right?"

The Doctor shrugged, but had the grace to look slightly sheepish. It had been several weeks since Doomsday, and while Lyssa had improved a good deal mentally, she had been tired and reluctant to leave the entire time. After spotting something suspicious at the Royal Hope Hospital, he'd jumped at the chance to get Lyssa out of the TARDIS again, knowing she'd needed to start somewhere. They'd introduced themselves as a married couple so that the Doctor could remain with her, while Lyssa claimed to have trouble breathing.

"In a controlled environment, where they're almost as concerned for your health and safety as I am?" he asked. "I think it'd be a good way for you to start getting used to being outside again. It's a controlled environment, and this way you'll have the chance to get used to it before you jump again, into who knows what kind of situation."

Lyssa leaned back against her pillow and grinned at him. "What if I do end up jumping, and you're just visiting the planet of the fluffy pillows? I feel like that'd be a good place to visit. Nice and calm, no chance of us being abducted to the moon or anything."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose and chuckled. "Probably not. I've been there. The pillows are all carnivorous."

"Wait. Really?" Lyssa demanded incredulously. "Carnivorous pillows?"

The Doctor nodded solemnly. "Toothy little beasts, too. I've got a scar. Remind me, and I'll show you some time."

She snorted, and then started coughing, leaning forward in an attempt to get her breath back while the Doctor rubbed her back soothingly. After a long moment, she was able to suck in a deep breath and lean back against her pillow, gratefully accepting the cup of water he offered her from the table beside her bed.

"Sorry," she muttered, taking a sip from the cup. "Guess the idea of you running frantically from angry pillows was just too much for me to take. What were they doing, rolling after you?"

"Dragging themselves along by their tassels, more like," the Doctor objected, his lips twitching upwards at the memory. "Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'pillow fight.' You feeling all right now?"

She nodded, handing the cup back to him as he placed it on the table. "The water helped, I just wish I could get get over this already. It kind of sucks being sick and tired for the better part of a month. Are we any closer to figuring out why my levels got so depleted in the first place?"

The Doctor hemmed and hawed for a minute, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging awkwardly, not looking her in the eye. "It might have had something to do with the stress of Canary Wharf, combined with a few other factors that I can't... quite... explain right now." He flashed her an apologetic look. "Sorry. I think I know a few things that could have caused it, but I can't explain them to you right now because you haven't learned them yet. And me telling you about them now could just make your symptoms worse due to the stress."

Lyssa groaned and fell back against her pillow, closing her eyes wearily. "Yay. More spoilers. I don't even want to know how big my head's going to be by the time I've figured out all the secrets that everybody's hiding. Might even be bigger than yours." She snicked at the sound of his indignant protest but didn't bother opening her eyes. "Shush," she declared, flapping her hand in his direction. "Sick patient trying to sleep here. Don't be rude. You're in a hospital, after all."

He grumbled, but settled into his chair with quiet mutterings about sassy Americans. She opened her eyes once to grin at him, before snuggling into her pillow. "Ya know, Americans aren't the only sassy ones," she informed him tiredly. "You seem to have quite a bit of it yourself. May I just remind you of your last regeneration? I think he's the sassiest out of all of you. Except for maybe Twelve. He's sassy and grumpy."

"Maybe I'm grumpy because I had to put up with your sass for so long," the Doctor said cheekily. "And maybe I'm sassy because I learned it from you. Did you ever think about that?"

Lyssa snorted. "That would only work if I was there from your first regeneration onwards." She peered up at him curiously. "Was I?"

He smiled at her fondly and shook his head. "No. It was quite a while for me before I met you. But I think you'll be meeting me soon. Well." He waggled his hand in the air. "Soonish."

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. 'Soonish.' That works out so well when you're a time traveler stuck traveling around another time traveler's timeline. Now I definitely have an exact timeframe."

"... You've been watching too many of those crime shows. You're getting to be too sarcastic."

She would have made some sort of scathing remark that would have definitely put him in his place, but right then, a group of med students and their teacher came into their ward, stopping by her bed.

"Ah, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith," the man who'd introduced himself as Stoker greeted them. "Good morning. And how are you feeling today?"

Lyssa muffled a cough into her gown as she slowly sat up and adjusted her pillow to rest behind her, the Doctor watching her closely as she did so. "I'm not awful, but I've definitely been better. Sometimes it seems like the coughing just doesn't want to stop, you know?"

Mr. Stoker nodded sagely. "Indeed." He turned to the students, Martha Jones foremost among them. "Lyssa Smith, admitted by her husband yesterday for trouble breathing. Jones, why don't you see what you can come up with?"

Martha nodded, stepping forward, although she looked puzzled when she spotted the Doctor. Lyssa merely hid a smile, knowing what was confusing her. "How'd you get here so fast?" Martha directed to him.

"Sorry?"

"On Chancery Street this morning, you came up to me and took your tie off, then went off in the opposite direction," she explained.

The Doctor still looked clueless. "Well, what did I do that for?"

"I don't know, you just did," Martha said, frowning at him.

"Not me, I've been with Lyssa all morning. Ask her. Or the nurses," the Doctor contradicted. "As if I'd leave her alone in a situation like this!"

"Well, it looked like you," Martha said slowly. "Have you got a brother?"

The Doctor reached over and grasped Lyssa's hand gently. "Not anymore, no. Just me. Me and Lyssa." She looked over at him and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"As time passes and I grow ever more infirm and weary, Miss Jones," Mr. Stoker interrupted impatiently.

"Oh, right. Sorry!" Martha apologized, pulling out her stethoscope and placing it on Lyssa's chest, moving it around slightly to listen to her heartbeat. She frowned and moved it a few times, making the Doctor sit up straighter in his chair, his eyes narrowed. Lyssa just blinked, wondering at the delay. She knew why Martha had done it in the show, but she definitely didn't have two hearts - that she knew for sure. So why was Martha having trouble now?

"I weep for future generations," Mr. Stoker drawled. "Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"

"Um, I don't know," Martha stammered. "Pneumonia?"

"You were listening to the patient's heart, not her lungs. I don't see how you could have come to that conclusion without even first consulting the patient's chart - a basic technique," he rebuked her. He picked up the chart at the end of the bed, then flinched and dropped it when a sparking sound erupted from it.

"That happened to me this morning!" Martha exclaimed.

"I had the same thing on the door handle," a male intern agreed.

"And me, on the lift," another female chimed in.

"That's only to be expected. There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by, anyone?" Mr. Stoker waited.

"Benjamin Franklin!" the Doctor answered gleefully.

"Correct!" Mr. Stoker approved with a nod.

"My mate Ben, that was a day and a half. I got rope burns off that kite, and then I got soaked... and then I got electrocuted!" the Doctor rambled.

"... Quite," Mr. Stoker agreed, eyeing the Doctor with concern.

"You'll have to forgive my husband, sir," Lyssa spoke up, giving the Doctor's hand a warning squeeze. "He's a history buff, and often likes to play those role-playing games with his friends. Spends too much time on them, I say," she sniffed, eyeing him sternly and ignoring his pout. "He needs to focus more on the present, rather than imagining what it would have been like to be there with Benjamin Franklin."

Mr. Stoker nodded, now seeming far less worried about the state of his mental health. "Ah, well, we all have our guilty pleasures, don't we?" He turned back to the students, leading them into the next area. "Moving on, we have..."

Lyssa waited until they were out of range to turn to the Doctor. "Benjamin Franklin?" she hissed incredulously. "Humans don't have time travel in this age! What were they supposed to think?"

"Not that I'm a nerd," he grumbled back, sounding miffed. "I've never actually played one of those games in the basement before." Lyssa leveled him with a flat stare, waiting until he finally gave in. "All right, you're making a face. What?"

"You're the biggest nerd there is," she informed him, pausing to cough into her gown again and take another sip of water. "You set the definition for nerd. And geek. And probably every other science-related thing out there." He opened his mouth to argue, and she held up a hand to stop him. "You literally drive a time machine." She smirked at the look on his face and waved a hand at him. "Now go away and check the electric fence or something. I need to sleep."

He snorted. "Yes, Mum," he teased. She opened one eye to glare at him halfheartedly before closing it again, silently cursing whatever space cold it was that made her so tired all of the time. "I want to take a look at the inner workings of this place, see if there's something suspicious around here. I've connected your vital stats to my sonic. I'll know if something changes," he told her quietly, running a hand along her forehead. She hummed something unintelligible, quickly dropping off to sleep. She'd come a long way since she was terrified to fall asleep alone, but blamed the cold for her being willing to fall asleep in strange surroundings.

It seemed she'd only slept a short time when everything started shaking, sending her flying off the bed and onto the floor with a painful jolt. Her eyes flew open with a groan, darting about frantically as she tried to place just where she was. It was so loud, though, and people were screaming.

She flinched back against the bed, clutching her head as she tried to reorient herself. She wasn't in Canary Wharf, she knew that, could tell that she was in a hospital. But then the woman she knew as Adeola was kneeling in front of her, hands on her shoulders and shaking her. But Adeola was dead, she'd seen her - what was left of her, at any rate.

She shook her head desperately, trying to fling away the images. She knew Adeola was dead, and therefore she couldn't be seeing her, knew that Canary Wharf was gone, and she was in a hospital. She just... was seeing things. Hallucinating from the stress. Or maybe her rapid breathing, but she just couldn't seem to stop it.

The next moment the hands were gone, and new ones - familiar ones, that sent warmth flooding through her - were stroking her face, and she opened her eyes with relief to see the Doctor kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, Lyssa, it's all right, you're all right, I'm here," he told her softly. "I came back as soon as I noticed the rain was upside down. Can you believe that? Upside down rain?" he said with exaggerated incredulity.

She tried to calm her breathing and managed to huff a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "I think - that that's - the least of our - problems right now," she managed between breaths, fighting the urge to cough.

"Well, the most important one is you calming down and remembering to breathe," he reminded her. "Why don't we start with that? Breathe with me, nice and slow." He grinned when she managed to take a longer breath. "Brilliant! Just keep breathing with me, focus on me and my lovely hair. Or my new suit. It's a lovely shade of blue, don't you think? Really brings out the flecks in my eyes."

She was rather proud of herself for being able to roll her eyes, her chest no longer heaving so visibly. "Or the new growths in your ego," she panted. "But yes, your hair is very nice and fluffy. Like a penguin's. Or maybe a duck's," she added, when his ego almost visibly increased.

He deflated and removed one hand to wag a finger at her. "That's rude. But I'll let it go just this once, you hear me? I have brilliant hair. I've gotten awards for my hair, I'll have you know."

She managed to grin weakly, before finally sagging to the ground, the Doctor sliding his hands to her shoulders to help support her. "I thought I was getting better," she whispered. "I was doing so well, and then I woke up when I hit the floor, and, and she was there, and she looked just like Adeola, and -"

"And you thought you were back at Canary Wharf," the Doctor finished grimly, shaking his head in anger at himself. "Lyssa, it's not your fault. You went through something traumatic, and you have been getting so much better. You woke up in a new environment, all alone, after being incredibly disoriented, and saw someone who looks a lot like another person who died. It's perfectly reasonably for that to happen, and you don't need to blame yourself at all. It's not your fault, all right?"

She hesitated for a minute, eyes on the tile floor, before nodding slowly.

"Good. I'm glad we got that cleared up. Do you think you can stand up? Because something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore, and it wasn't a tornado that did this."

"I think I can manage, Dorothy," Lyssa cracked, maintaining a straight face when he grimaced, lifting her to her feet and making sure she was steady before he released her.

"Here's your clothes," the Doctor informed her, pulling out a bag from by the chair and setting it on the bed, drawing the curtains around the bed. "I'll be right outside while you change, you should be able to hear me talking. Is that all right?"

She nodded, looking down. "I'm sorry that I'm such a bother."

"Hey." His hands were on her shoulders instantly, and he waited until her eyes met his before continuing. "You're not a bother, you're my best friend." He lifted the blue snowflake on her necklace and pressed it into her hand.

"And there's proof of it, I don't give those out to just anyone, you know. And there's an excellent reason for that, which you will learn soon enough. You're not a bother in any way, and I don't blame you for anything that happened. It's not your fault. You've saved more lives than I can count, even in just the few times you've jumped all ready, and other things have been changed for the better as well. So why don't you get changed into something that didn't go out of fashion with the dinosaurs, and help me do it again?"

She squeezed her charm tight for a moment, remembering the happy moment she got it, before taking a deep breath and letting it out, trying to listen to the Doctor's words. "All right. You go do whatever it is you were planning on doing, and I'll get changed real quick."

He grinned at her before ducking out of the curtain, leaving her alone in the small area. She took another deep breath to fortify herself, before opening the small bag and quickly changing, relieved to be out of the hospital gown. Once she was dressed in a purple shirt, jeans, and thigh-high boots, she pushed open the curtains and followed the sound of the Doctor's voice, where he was staring outside a window next to - Martha Jones - she reminded herself firmly, and there was a crying woman as well - one of the interns from earlier beside them.

The windows had gone dark, and when she joined them, she could see why. The Earth hanging in the place the moon would normally go made it abundantly clear where they were. A trip to the moon without the normally high cost in dollars, but a potentially astronomical cost in innocent lives if things went wrong.

She had the best vacations.

"Well, then, Martha Jones, the question is, how are we still breathing?" the Doctor asked the medical student.

"But, we can't be," the crying woman sobbed.

"Obviously we are, so don't waste my time," the Doctor complained, before brightening when he saw Lyssa, tugging her under his arm. "Lyssa, this is Martha Jones, Martha, meet Lyssa. Martha was just going to help me figure this out. So, is there a balcony on this floor, or a veranda, or... ?"

Martha nodded, smiling in greeting at Lyssa. "By the patients' lounge, yeah. Nice to meet you. Sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to startle you," she said diplomatically.

Lyssa flushed. "Oh, no. Sorry. I get startled rather easy, I guess. Long story. Nice to meet you too."

"Fancy going out?" the Doctor offered Martha.

She shrugged. "Okay."

He frowned curiously at her. "We might die."

"We might not," she returned, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor grinned. "Good! C'mon. Not her, she'd hold us up," he mentioned, jerking a thumb at the crying intern. Lyssa swung her elbow into his ribs. He grunted, holding his ribs in pain. "What was that for?"

"That was rude!" she hissed. Stepping out from under his arm, she made her way over to the woman. "It'll be all right in the end, you'll see," she promised. "He's just completely oblivious about manners and things like that," she said, glaring over her shoulder at the pouting Doctor. "Why don't you go look after the patients? I'm sure they'll be needing some help," she prodded gently.

The woman sniffed and nodded, seeming to come back to awareness of her surroundings. "What about you? You're supposed to be in bed."

Lyssa smiled, looking over at the Doctor, who was waiting semi-patiently for her. "I've already got a Doctor to look out for me, don't worry. You just look out for the other patients, all right?" When the woman nodded and thanked her, she just shook her head and slipped back to the Doctor and Martha, the Doctor smiling proudly at her as they followed Martha through the halls. "What's that look for?" she whispered.

He linked his hand with hers. "You. You just barely got over a panic attack - which was completely understandable, by the way - and went out of your way to encourage someone who was on the verge of their own. That's what's so special about you, Lyssa. You're always looking out for others, even when you're still hurting yourself."

She wrinkled her nose, then regretted it when it made her sneeze. "It didn't seem right to just leave her there."

"No," the Doctor agreed. "But you were the only one who did anything about it." The conversation halted as they reached the patients lounge and pushed open the doors, stepping out onto the balcony into the darkness of space.

"We've got air! How does that work?" Martha exclaimed, taking a few experimental breaths.

"Just be glad it does," the Doctor murmured.

"I've got a party tonight. It's my brother's twenty-first. My mother's going to be really... really..." Martha trailed off, staring at the distant Earth.

"You okay?" the Doctor questioned.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "Yeah."

"Do you want to go back in?" the Doctor tried, not wanting to upset the hitherto brave medical student. He glanced at Lyssa to check on her, and she just smiled and shook her head, looking around at all the stars.

"No way!" Martha denied immediately. "I mean, we could die at any minute, but all the same, it's beautiful."

"You think?" the Doctor asked curiously, tilting his head to the side as he studied the young woman.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face. "How many people want to go to the moon? And here we are."

"Standing in the earthlight."

"Very poetic," Lyssa applauded.

Martha drew in a deep breath. "What do you think happened?"

The Doctor shrugged. "What do you think happened?"

"Extraterrestrial. It's got to be. I don't know, a few years ago that would have sounded man, but these days? That spaceship flying into Big Ben, Christmas, those Cybermen things. I had a cousin. Adeola. She worked at Canary Wharf. She never came home," Martha said sadly.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said quietly.

"Yeah."

"We were there. In the battle," the Doctor said, squeezing Lyssa's hand gently.

Martha straightened her shoulders in determination. "I promise you, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, we will find a way out. If we can travel to the moon, we can travel back. There's got to be a way."

"It's not Smith. That's not my real name," the Doctor mentioned.

She frowned at them. "Who are you, then?"

"I'm the Doctor."

Lyssa grinned, loosening her fingers from the Doctor's so she could explore the balcony a bit more. The stars set a beautiful backdrop to the squabbling behind her about whether or not the Doctor really was a Doctor, before Martha finally declared he would have to earn that title.

"What about you, then?" Martha asked, drawing Lyssa's attention to her. "Do you have a different name, or title? I suppose you're not married, either, no wedding rings for either of you."

The Doctor linked his hand back up with Lyssa's, tugging her over to them. "I come from a different culture. And just call her Lyssa. She gets all grumpy if you call her Miss Devons."

She rolled her eyes. "Only because you did it to irritate me." She turned to Martha, who was watching them with a confused look. "Just ignore him. And call me Lyssa."

"Oi! If she ignores me, how am I supposed to earn my title?" the Doctor protested.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't see you doing anything to earn it anyways." She stopped, turning to the side as another series of coughs racked through her. "Sorry," she muttered when she was done.

"No, it just means that I'll need to work a bit faster," the Doctor said, both him and Martha watching her with concern. "Maybe you should sit down on the bench?"

"I'm so sorry, I forgot you were still sick," Martha apologized. "Do you need to go back to your bed?"

She shook her head, tightening her hand around the Doctor's. "I need to stay here with him. I'll just try not to do anything that will aggravate my throat."

The Doctor nodded reluctant agreement. "If she goes back to her bed, she'll just worry, and that won't be good for anyone. I'll just get started." He leaned down and picked up a rock from the ground, throwing it off the balcony. All of them watched as it bounced off an invisible shield some distance away. "There must be a force field keeping the air in."

"What happens when it runs out?" Martha asked sharply.

"How many people in this hospital?" the Doctor asked simply.

She frowned in concentration. "Maybe a thousand? I don't know for sure."

"One thousand people. Suffocating," he told her solemnly.

"Who would do that?" she demanded, aghast.

Lyssa looked up as three tall, cylindrical ships landed on the moon outside the force field. "I think we're about to meet them," she gulped. They all watched silently as the doors hissed open, and tall, large creatures with what seemed like enormous heads covered in black helmets marched out towards the hospital.

"Aliens. Those're aliens. Real, proper, aliens," Martha stated in disbelief.

The Doctor's face was much more grim as he exchanged a glance with Lyssa. "Judoon."


A/N: I definitely didn't hide any Easter eggs in this chapter, nope. Nuh-uh. :D

Special thanks to everyone who's favorited and followed, and shout-out to GosaJane, Michael Thomas1, and TheProtectorOfHim for reviewing! (And I'm sorry if I missed anyone else. My notifications have been acting up, and I haven't been getting most of them, don't know why, though. Hopefully it'll be fixed soon.)

GosaJane: As long as it was a scream of delight and not terror, I'm all good. XD I love hearing that people are looking forward to and enjoying each new chapter. Not much this chapter, more of a lead up to future chapters... mwahahaha Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you like it! :)

Michael Thomas1: Yep! I already have the ending to this story, and a potential sequel all planned out (And everyone's gonna hate it. Mwhahaha) Thank you for reviewing, it's always good to hear from my readers, and know that they enjoy it. :)

TheProtectorofHim: Aww, that makes me happy to hear you like it that much when you're only halfway through. :D As for where the idea came from... I guess, I always have potential story ideas running through my head. No joke, counting my two published in progress stories, I have probably at least seven different story ideas in my head that I'm working on at different times. I've had this one ruminating up there for a while, but I didn't have a good beginning, so I waited to even write it until I could come up with a semi-decent way for Lyssa to enter the Whoniverse. And on the other hand, many of the significant plot points of this story have hit me out of nowhere. So it's a combination of both, I think. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter! :)

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)

General Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, just Lyssa.