THE FIRES OF POMPEII

"There is no decision that we can make that

doesn't come with some sort of balance or sacrifice."

Simon Sinek


Hartley woke after only a few hours of sleep feeling bright-eyed and well rested. She changed into loose pants and a white turtleneck that were pretty and easy to move in, despite knowing they'd likely be all but ruined in whatever their next adventure might be.

She was more than used to their adventures taking chunks out of her wardrobe. Luckily for her, the TARDIS was infinite, so running out of clothes was never something she had to worry about.

The Doctor was already in the kitchen when she arrived. She was surprised to find him there, made even more so by the fact he was reading some kind of newspaper, two mugs of steaming liquid on the table in front of him.

"Morning," he greeted her distractedly, flipping the page with the low rustle of paper.

"Since when do you read the newspaper?" she asked in lieu of a proper greeting. Assuming one of the mugs was for her, she held a hand over the one on the left until the Doctor shook his head and pointed to the one on the right. She picked it up and took a sip, relishing in the tea made to complete perfection.

"I like to keep up with current events," he told her without looking up from the paper.

"You're a time traveller. You already know all of the events."

He only sniffed, not seeming to see fit to indulge her with a response. She grinned into her mug at the ease of it all. Things weren't always so easy. Sometimes they were hard and painful – the Year That Never Was came to mind – but in amongst it all there were moments such as these, moments where happiness welled in her like a bubble. That was life with the Doctor, she supposed, turbulent and amazing all at once.

The sound of footsteps hitting the floor in the corridor met her ears, and she looked up in time to see Donna stumble through the door, blinking at them both blearily. "I see you found us," said the Doctor, turning another page, eyes scanning the futuristic paper, the images on it moving like videos, like something out of Harry Potter.

"I dunno how," Donna replied, looking mightily confused. "I barely took ten steps out of my room before I was here."

"The TARDIS must be in a good mood," he said, carelessly rocking back on his chair, reminding Hartley of the boisterous 'cool' kids at school. She fought a smile at the comparison.

"That for me?" Donna asked, nodding at the still-full mug steaming on the table between them.

"Wasn't sure what you liked," the Doctor replied as she picked it up, wrapping her hands around the hot ceramic of the orange mug and inhaling its aroma.

She took a sip, then grimaced at the taste. "I think I'll make my own from now on," she declared. "This just tastes like sugar mixed with tar."

"It's how Hartley takes hers," argued the Doctor defensively, as though it were all her fault.

Hartley rolled her eyes, unperturbed by the comment as she took another sip of her tea, thinking that it really was very good. "You look nice," she told Donna, nodding to her pretty top.

"You think?" Donna asked, running her hands down the front of the blue and purple top, almost self-conscious. Hartley only smiled, the expression broad as she took another gulp of tea. "So, where to?"

As is these were the magic words, the Doctor dropped the newspaper he was reading and finally looked up at them both with a wide, unwavering beam. "I had somewhere in mind. Do you want it to be a surprise?"

"Can we go now?" asked Donna excitedly.

"Eager?" the Time Lord just barely kept from smirking.

"Like you wouldn't believe," she replied, utterly unashamed.

"Come on, Hartley," said the Doctor, leaping from his chair and swiping the half-empty mug from her fingers just as she was about to take another sip. "We've got places to be; things to do; people to save."

"People to save?" echoed Donna in confusion. "Are you expecting to run into trouble?"

"Not particularly, but I usually do whether I'm expecting it or not," he replied offhandedly, and Hartley rolled her eyes again as she climbed to her feet.

"He's cursed," she told Donna in a conspiratorial tone.

"I prefer blessed," he retorted.

Hartley grinned at Donna, whose eyes flickered between the pair thoughtfully. "You two have a weird way of flirting," she said as the Doctor began to lead the way through the halls towards the console room.

Hartley's cheeks grew warm and the Doctor sniffed indelicately from ahead of them, but otherwise didn't comment. Hartley watched while the Doctor checked the TARDIS' settings and the like.

He then paused at the doors leading out to their new destination. He turned back to look at Donna with a wicked glint to his eye. "Are you ready for what lay outside these doors?" he asked importantly, like a street magician setting up a trick.

"Oh, hush up and show me where you've taken us," Donna was having none of it. Hartley laughed at the pout the Doctor gave in response.

He pushed open the doors, stepping out first and letting the other two follow. Hartley slipped out after him, and just as suddenly regretted having all of her skin covered. Wherever they were, it was warm, the sun beating down on them, and she felt the back of her neck already growing damp.

Wandering away from the TARDIS to give Donna room to step out, Hartley picked up her long, heavy hair and piled it atop her head, securing it with the tie threaded around her wrist.

"Ancient Rome!" the Doctor declared as Donna joined them out in the open, the TARDIS doors shutting after them with a low creak. "Well, not for them, obviously. To all intents and purposes, right now, this is brand new Rome," he babbled, watching closely as Donna soaked up her foreign surroundings.

"Oh, my God," she said brightly, spinning in a full circle, keen eyes taking in every single little detail. "It's, it's so Roman," she stumbled over the words, and Hartley glanced over at the Doctor to see him grinning away, thrilled by her reaction. "This is fantastic," Donna exclaimed, hooking an arm around both of their shoulders and bringing them both into a tight group hug.

The Doctor laughed, giddy on her happiness, and Hartley squeezed her back before she pulled away, smiling kindly.

"I'm here, in Rome. Donna Noble in Rome. This is just weird," she continued eagerly. "I mean, everyone here's dead," she added in a whisper. Hartley had to giggle at the incredulity she felt, a strange haunting sensation, like she were suddenly surrounded by ghosts. Hartley supposed it wasn't exactly inaccurate.

"Well, don't tell them that," the Doctor murmured, smiling calmly at a passerby who frowned at them all curiously. Meeting the Doctor's eyes, the man could only shuffle along, muttering something derisive about tourists under his breath.

"Hold on a minute," Donna said, skepticism suddenly filling her. "That sign over there's in English." She pointed to a painted sign across the alley reading 'two amphorae for the price of one', looking at the Doctor flatly. "Are you having me on? Are we in Epcot?"

"No, no, no. That's the TARDIS translation circuits," he hurried to explain. "Just makes it look like English. Speech as well. You're talking Latin right now," he told her with an impish grin.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Hartley confirmed with a smile.

"I just said seriously in Latin," Donna beamed, giddy. "What if I said something in actual Latin, like veni, vidi, vici? My dad said that when he came back from football. If I said veni, vidi, vici to that lot, what would it sound like?" she asked in a rush.

"I'm not sure," the Doctor replied with a frustrated frown. "You have to think of difficult questions, don't you?" he complained.

"I'm going to try it," she told them happily. Hartley leant back against the Doctor, smiling as she watched Donna scurry over to a vendor selling various fruits.

"Afternoon, sweetheart. What can I get you, my love?" the man asked kindly.

"Er, veni, vidi, vici," Donna told him, and the vendor frowned in confusion.

"Huh? Sorry? Me no speak Celtic," he said in a slow, over-exaggerated voice. "No can do, missy."

Donna rocked back on her heels, smiling at him awkwardly before she meandering her way back towards her new friends. "How's he mean, Celtic?" she asked them, bemusement in her soul.

"Welsh. You sound Welsh," the Doctor explained with a sniff, tucking his hands back deep into his pockets. "There we are. Learnt something."

He turned to leave, but before Hartley could follow she froze under the sudden weight of eyes on their backs. She turned sharply, eyes narrowed with suspicion as she eyed the various vendors and merchants. Nobody seemed to be paying them any attention, but that didn't necessarily mean nobody was.

"Coming, Hartley?" asked the Doctor, and she swiftly spun back around. Without giving it much thought she threaded her arm through his, holding on to his side as they all wandered back down the street, aimless in their direction.

"Don't our clothes look a bit odd?" Donna was asking curiously.

"Nah – Ancient Rome, anything goes," the Doctor told her, then glanced down at Hartley with a small grin. "It's like Soho, but bigger," he quipped, and she muffled a small giggle into his coat.

"You've been here before then?"

"Ages ago," he confirmed. "Long before I ever even knew Hartley," he added, nudging her gently from beside him. She was curious, but knew there were better times to ask for more information. "And before you ask, that fire had nothing to do with me. Well, a little bit," he amended thoughtfully. "But I haven't got the chance to look around properly. Coliseum, Pantheon, Circus Maximus. You'd expect them to be looming by now," he said, glancing up at the sky in confusion. "Where is everything? Try this way."

The Doctor led them through a smaller alleyway, and eventually they came out in a large, sprawling street, filled with even more merchants with children running playfully between their legs. Hartley was just smiling at one such little boy when Donna's voice drew her attention.

"Not an expert, but there's seven hills of Rome, aren't there?" she asked, and Hartley looked up from the boy, turning to eye the mountain in question. "How come they've only got one?"

With the feeling of ice water trickling down the length of her spine, Hartley opened her mouth to voice her bad feelings only to be cut off as the ground began to shake, trembling beneath them like the chest of a furious beast as it roared.

Heart in her throat, she clutched tighter to the Doctor, staring up at the smoking mountain before them with a mounting sense of horror.

"Wait a minute," began Donna in a low voice, piecing together what had gone terribly, terribly wrong. "One mountain, with smoke," she said weakly. "Which makes this..."

"Pompeii," Hartley finished for her, voice thin from shock. "Oh, God."

"We're in Pompeii," the Doctor agreed, voice tight and severe. "And it's volcano day." There was a beat, both women staring up at the smoking volcano in varying degrees of dread. "We've got to go," said the Doctor suddenly, the words full of warning. "We've got to get out of here. Right now."

Then he turned so sharply that his coattails slapped Hartley in the shins, and he began to sprint back in the direction of the TARDIS.

"Doc!" Hartley yelped in surprise, nearly stumbling over a man with a cart full of chickens in an attempt to keep up. "Bloody-" she began to curse, nodding to Donna who helped her steady herself before they both took off, bolting after the Doctor.

The city suddenly looked completely different now that she knew where they were. It felt wrong, somehow, like she were seeing something forbidden.

She went into the past all the time; it was common for her to be surrounded by people who were all long since dead. She was all too familiar with what it felt like to be walking amongst ghosts.

But the people around her weren't going to live out there lives in health and peace. They weren't going to die in their own distant, happy futures. There was no hope for them, none at all. These people weren't ghosts – not yet. For now, they were corpses. Walking, talking, breathing corpses.

The Doctor came to a stop in the exact spot they'd left the TARDIS, and Hartley breathed a sigh of relief when she caught up, only to freeze when she realised the time machine was nowhere to be found. She didn't bother to muffle the sound of her frustrated groan.

"You're kidding," breathed Donna, coming to a stop between them, pushed up on her toes to see over their shoulders. "You're not telling me the TARDIS has gone."

"Okay," muttered the Doctor weakly.

"Where is it then?" she demanded.

"You told me not to tell you."

Donna had never looked more unimpressed. "Oi. Don't get clever in Latin," she snapped, but the Doctor didn't have the time to look chastised. He spun on the spot, bolting back out of the little alcove and across the road to where that same merchant from before was arranging his produce neatly in a wooden crate.

"Excuse me. There was a box. Big blue box. Big blue wooden box, just over there," the Doctor said, grasping the man's shoulders to force him to pay attention. "Where's it gone?" he demanded.

The vendor gave a wide, self-satisfied grin, showing off a row of ugly, blackened teeth. "Sold it, didn't I?" he said smugly.

The Doctor had never looked more incredulous. "But it wasn't yours to sell!" he exclaimed, looking very much like he might just sock Fruit Guy clean across the face.

Hartley appeared beside him, pressing her side into his, a silent but supportive presence. "It was on my patch, weren't it? I got fifteen sesterces for it. Lovely jubbly," purred the vendor like a cat with a head cold. The Doctor's jaw flapped as he searched desperately for words.

"Who did you sell it to?" Hartley interjected with a dose of her usual supply of endless patience.

"Old Caecilius," said the vendor in a matter-of-fact tone, growing tired with the questions. "Look, if you want to argue, why don't you take it out with him? He's on Foss Street. Big villa. Can't miss it."

"Thanks," muttered the Doctor with questionable sincerity, turning and rushing away, taking Hartley and Donna with him. "What'd he buy a big blue wooden box for?" the Time Lord asked them, beyond confused, and Hartley had to agree. She wasn't sure why anyone would want to buy the TARDIS – at least, not if they didn't know what it was. As far as almost everyone in the universe knew, it was nothing but a big blue box. "Ugh, where's Foss Street?" he growled after a few minutes of nothing but identical streets and more cheerful vendors.

"We might cover more ground if we split up," Hartley suggested, pushing up on her toes to try and see something useful.

"Good idea," said the Doctor absently, spinning around again in an attempt to find his way. "But stay with Donna, she's not ready to go off on her own yet."

"Oi," cried Donna indignantly, but the Doctor was far too distracted to bother replying.

"Don't go too far," he warned.

"I know the drill," Hartley rolled her eyes, then pushed herself up so she could smack her lips against the barely-there stubble dusting his jaw. She kissed him, pulling away with a smile at his dumbfounded expression.

She turned and grasped Donna's hand, pulling her away and off down the street, ignoring her own red cheeks in favour of focusing on their task. Donna was staring at her as they moved, and Hartley could just tell she wanted to say something.

"Come on, then," Donna finally cracked, unable to stand wondering any longer. "Out with it."

"How do they know which street is which if they don't have any signs?" Hartley asked in an attempt to divert Donna's attention. "Are they just supposed to remember? It's not a very good system."

"Don't try and change the subject," Donna huffed, refusing to be sidetracked. "You just kissed the Doctor."

"On the cheek – do you think it's this way?" she asked, determined to keep distracted.

"Has something changed between the two of you?" Donna asked in a gossipy tone of voice.

"No," Hartley denied it instantly, more out of instinct than rational thought. Judging by the look on her face, Donna didn't believe it. That was good, seeing as it was a lie. "Yes," she confessed with a sigh, but Donna still looked unimpressed, eager for more details. "It's complicated," Hartley said uncomfortably.

Donna snorted. "Well, I suppose running around saving people all day every day is bound to change the way you-" she cut herself off, coming to a standstill. Hartley paused, dodging a pair of men carrying a long beam of wood and turning to look at Donna in question. "Saving people," murmured Donna in response to Hartley's confusion. "You save people."

Hartley hesitated, a feeling like a pit in her stomach. "Well, yeah – when we can."

"But you save people – and this is Pompeii."

Finally Hartley connected the dots, and the pit in her stomach turned into a ball of lead. Donna wanted to save the people of Pompeii, she wanted to stop the most famous tragedy in the whole of the ancient world from ever happening. Hartley might not have been a Time-Lord, but she knew a paradox when she saw one.

"Donna-" she tried to say, wondering how exactly she was meant to break the news to her friend that this just wasn't something they could do. Who knew what would happen to history if Pompeii never happened? It could be catastrophic.

"We need to gather everyone, let them know so they can get out of here!" Donna exclaimed, spinning in a circle. She was set this mission, Hartley could tell, and derailing her wasn't going to be easy. "Look, we can start there," she said, gesturing to a large amphitheatre to their left where Hartley imagined local events were held, "get everyone we can inside and explain."

"Donna-" she tried again.

"Where's the Doctor?" Donna spoke over her without thought. Hartley couldn't blame her. Maybe on some level she sensed that what Hartley was trying to say wasn't going to be something she wanted to hear. "We need to find him – he'll know what to do!"

Hartley knew arguing further was pointless, especially when Donna turned and darted back the way they'd come. She wanted to call out, find some way to explain why it wasn't possible, why it would only do more harm than good, but despite not knowing Donna for long, she knew exactly how stubborn she could be.

The Doctor was looking for them too and when he found them he barrelled towards them, having to grasp Donna tight to slow his own momentum. "I've got it. Foss Street's this way!" he said, reaching out without thought to grasp Hartley's wrist, beginning to tug her the way he'd come.

"No. Well, I found this big sort of amphitheatre thing. We can start there. We can gather everyone together," Donna began at breakneck speed, rushing through the words, eager to begin saving these people, all of whom were long since dead. "Maybe they've got a great big bell or something we could ring. Have they invented bells yet?"

The Doctor stared back at Donna like she were crazy. "What do you want a bell for?" he asked, incredulous.

"To warn everyone. Start the evacuation. What time does Vesuvius erupt? When's it due?"

"It's 79AD, twenty third of August," the Doctor explained in a low, even tone that rumbled with old knowledge, "which makes volcano day tomorrow."

"Plenty of time," Donna exclaimed. "We could get everyone out easy."

"Yeah, except we're not going to," he deadpanned, then turned to Hartley with a frown. "What did you do?" he asked, disapproval coating his voice.

"I tried," she argued, offended by the accusation. "She won't listen to me."

"But that's what you do," interjected Donna stubbornly, grasping their arms and forcing them back around to face her. "You're the Doctor – and the Heart...person, whatever that means. You save people," she said with such blind optimism that Hartley's chest throbbed at the innocence of it all.

"Not this time," the Doctor hissed back. "Pompeii is a fixed point in history. What happens, happens. There is no stopping it."

"Says who?" Donna argued.

"Says me."

"What, and you're in charge?" she scoffed.

"TARDIS, Time Lord, yeah."

"Donna, human, no."

"Guys-" Hartley tried to gently interject. The last thing they needed was to start arguing in the middle of Pompeii. They had to focus on what was important: finding the TARDIS and getting as far away from here as physically possible.

But they ignored her, too focused on their bickering to listen.

"I don't need your permission. I'll tell them myself," hissed Donna, in no mood for the Doctor's rules.

"You stand in the market place announcing the end of the world, they'll just think you're a mad old soothsayer," growled the Doctor, throwing in jazz hands for effect. "Now, come on. TARDIS. We are getting out of here."

He grasped ahold of Hartley's hand, squeezing just a little too tight as he dragged her along after him, barrelling down the narrow street, scuffed up old chucks slapping against the dirty stone.

"Well, I might just have something to say about that, Spaceman!" Donna shouted after him furiously.

"Oh, I bet you will!" he called back over his shoulder, never breaking his stride.

As they moved, Hartley stared at the people they were passing, feeling her own resolve crumble. But it wasn't until they passed a small group of children playing tag in an alley that she realised she couldn't keep silent.

"Would saving them really be so bad?" she asked the Doctor in a small voice.

He pulled his hand away from hers, probably subconsciously, but she couldn't help but feel a sting from the action. "Not you too," he muttered disapprovingly. "You should know better."

"I can't help it," she said, swallowing thickly as they passed an old couple holding hands and smiling at one another, both blissfully unaware of the horror about to befall them. Oblivious to the way hellfire was going to rain down from the sky, like something from their darkest nightmares. "They're all so...alive," she whispered sadly.

"Fixed point, Hartley," the Doctor reminded her in his most stern voice.

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that it didn't matter; what was the point in being able to see and do the things they did, without being able to help people when it really mattered? She opened her mouth to make her case, only to catch sight of him and change her mind.

His shoulders were hunched over and his lips were pursed into a thin line. He was cringing like something was causing him pain and there was the slightest hint of crows feet at the corners of his eyes. He wasn't letting her feel his emotions – everything trapped behind one of the impenetrable walls she'd grown so familiar with – but despite that she knew he was hurting.

He didn't want to let these people suffer. He didn't want anyone to die. But sometimes he didn't have a choice, not even when doing nothing meant watching an entire civilisation burn to ash and coal. She wondered how the weight of that burden didn't eventually crush him into nothing.

They came to a sudden stop beside a large, sprawling villa. "A big villa," the Doctor said with a nod, and Hartley looked away from where she'd been scrutinising his expression, trying to read the emotions he wasn't letting her feel. "This must be it."

Donna caught up to them, panting from her sprint through the city. "What now?" she breathed, staring up at the villa cautiously.

"We go in, get the TARDIS and get far, far away from Pompeii."

Donna shot Hartley a look, pleading with her to help change the Doctor's mind. But she couldn't, not now, and they were both helpless to do anything but follow the Doctor inside the villa.

They'd barely crossed the threshold when the ground began to rumble again, trembling violently beneath them like someone had done something to anger the gods. The Doctor surged forwards, catching a marble bust just as it was about to crash to the floor, saving it from destruction.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, putting it back in place and straightening up. "There you go," he said, his big, charming grin secured in place.

Hartley turned to see a man in Roman robes standing before them, a grateful smile on his face. He looked kind, a warmth to his face that made her, in turn, feel warm. "Thank you, kind sir," he said, the words dripping with gratitude. "I'm afraid business is closed for the day," he added apologetically, eyes shifting quickly between the three travellers. "I'm expecting a visitor."

"But that's me, I'm a visitor," said the Doctor brightly. "Hello," he greeted the man, reaching out to grasp his hand, shaking it with renewed enthusiasm. He let go, moving deeper into the villa, taking a subtle look around, searching for his beloved box.

"Who are you?" asked the man with a hint of suspicion.

"I am..." he trailed off unsurely. "Spartacus," he finally said, the false name awkward and insincere on his tongue.

"And so am I," said Donna, just as awkward.

"Mr. and Mrs. Spartacus?" asked the man.

Both the Doctor and Donna grimaced at the implication. "Oh no, no, no. We're not, we're not married," said the Doctor quickly, Donna agreeing emphatically.

"Oh, then brother and sister?" the man asked with a sure nod. "Yes, of course. You look very much alike," he smiled.

Donna and the Doctor exchanged bewildered glances. "Really?" they asked as one, each giving the other a once over, considering the words.

"And you are?" asked the man again, and Hartley blinked as she realised he was talking to her.

"Hartley," she answered him, smiling politely as she reached out a hand. He took it, shaking it respectfully. She figured there was no need for a false name; what were these people going to be able to do with her real one, anyway? "It's lovely to meet you."

"Hartley," he repeated in a curious tone of voice. From behind him an older woman and a younger boy were watching on with careful eyes. She assumed they were the man's family. "That's not a name you hear around here. You're a traveller?"

"Oh, you have no idea," she smiled, the expression open and cheerful, and despite being confused by the answer the man still smiled back.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not open for trade," he told them politely.

"And that trade would be...?" the Doctor prompted, giving the villa another casual scan.

"Marble," said the man proudly. "Lopus Caecilius," he added, gesturing to himself, and Hartley understood this was his name. "Mining, polishing and design thereof. If you want marble, I'm your man," Caecilius said with the broad smile of a salesman.

Hartley could spot the plan forming in the Doctor's head from a mile away, and she watched as he fished out his psychic paper, flashing it in front of Caecilius' face with all the confidence of an honest man. "That's good. That's good, because I'm the marble inspector."

"By the gods of commerce, an inspection!" exclaimed the woman behind them breathlessly. "I'm sorry, sir. I do apologise for my son," she said in a small sneer, snatching a goblet of wine from the boy in question.

"And this is my good wife, Metella," said Caecilius anxiously. Hartley glanced to the left and felt her stomach swoop with glee as she spotted the big blue box they called home. The TARDIS stood in the corner, tall and beautiful and looking wholly out of place in the ancient Roman villa. "I must confess, we're not prepared for an-" Caecilius tried to say.

"Nothing to worry about," the Doctor assured him easily. Hartley jabbed the Doctor in the ribs, nodding to the TARDIS once she had his attention. "I'm sure you've nothing to hide. Although, frankly, that object looks rather like wood to me," he continued on, already making a beeline for the ship.

Hartley followed quickly, with Donna close on their heels. The moment she reached it she felt a thrum of happiness in her veins. Pressing a hand against the cool, smooth wood, she sighed in relief, the proximity like a balm to her soul.

"I told you to get rid of it," Metella hissed at her husband.

"I only bought it today!" Caecilius argued, sounding rather torn up at the thought that they might take it away. Hartley understood the feeling – the TARDIS was all too easy to grow attached to, even if you hadn't yet even been inside.

"Ah, well. Caveat emptor," said the Doctor, falsely apologetic.

"Oh, you're Celtic," mumbled Caecilius awkwardly. "That's lovely."

"I'm sure it's fine, but I might have to take it off your hands for a proper inspection."

Hartley remained leant up against the box, watching on with a polite smile. "Although while we're here, wouldn't you recommend a holiday, Spartacus?" Donna asked, anything but subtle, and the Doctor turned to her with disapproving eyes.

"Don't know what you mean, Spartacus," he said, voice like steel.

"Oh, this lovely family. Mother and father and son. Don't you think they should get out of town?"

"Why should we do that?" asked Caecilius in confusion.

"Well, the volcano, for starters," she explained, and Hartley tilted her head back until it was pressed against the TARDIS, hearing it gently hum in her head. It was soothing against the chaos of the moment, and she wished suddenly for her bed, where she could curl up and pretend none of this mattered.

"What?" asked Caecilius, bewildered by the word he didn't yet know.

"Volcano."

"What-ano?"

"That great big volcano right on your doorstep," she said, growing frustrated when they wouldn't understand.

"Oh, Spartacus, Hartley, for shame," the Doctor exclaimed with great dramatics, "we haven't even greeted the household gods yet." He reached back, grasping Hartley's hand and using it to tug her along, giving Donna no choice but to follow. "They don't know what it is," he explained in a low voice, ensuring the others wouldn't overhear. "Vesuvius is just a mountain to them. The top hasn't blown off yet. The Romans haven't even got a word for volcano. Not until tomorrow."

Donna was glaring at him, and Hartley nervously began to babble in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Volcano, from the Latin Volcanus, 'Vulcan', meaning-"

"Really not the time, Hartley," the Doctor interrupted her with a stern look. She wisely sealed her lips, chastised.

"Don't speak to her like that," growled Donna, and both travellers looked up at her in shock, the Doctor irritated, Hartley just stunned.

She wasn't sure anyone had ever called out the Doctor for the way he spoke to her. These days he rarely ever snapped at her, but she suddenly wished Donna had been around back when the Doctor was still in his Ninth regeneration. She sure could have used her quick wit and protective spirit back then.

"And she's right," Donna added coldly, glare at the Doctor intensifying. "They can learn a new word as they die."

The Doctor let out his breath in a frustrated huff. "Donna, stop it," he begged her tightly.

"Listen, I don't know what sort of kids you've been flying round with in outer space, but you're not telling me to shut up," Donna growled. Pride buzzed in Hartley's chest, and she just barely refrained from going 'ha' to the shocked look on the Doctor's face. "That boy, how old is he, sixteen? And tomorrow he burns to death."

"And that's my fault?" the Doctor hissed.

"Right now, yes."

And as proud as Hartley was for Donna standing up to the Doctor, there were some things that just went too far. "Donna, that's not fair," she said reproachfully.

But Donna still had fire left in her argument. "If you can stop something tragic from happening, but for some reason you don't, don't you think you're partially to blame?" she asked smartly.

Hartley winced. "Yes, but this is a fixed point-"

"Don't hide behind his excuse," said Donna forcefully. Hartley blinked in surprise. It might not have felt good, but it was a valid point. What did she know about fixed points? And yet here she was preaching about them like gospel? Apparently they needed Donna even more than she'd thought.

Before she could formulate a reply, a loud voice was proclaiming, "announcing Lucius Petrus Dextrus, Chief Augur of the City Government!"

The trio of travellers spun around, eyeing the newcomer with surprise. He was old, with grey hair and lined features, wearing a cloak that covered the entire right side of his body.

"Lucius. My pleasure, as always," Caecilius greeted the man graciously. "A rare and great honour, sir, for you to come to my house." He held out a hand, but the new man, Lucius, didn't take it, staring at it in something like disdain. Hartley immediately decided she didn't like him.

"The birds are flying north, and the wind is in the west," said the one called Lucius in a flat, unemotional voice. His insides were a swirl of vague feeling, like not all of him were there in the moment with them.

"Quite. Absolutely. That's good, is it?" Caecilius asked unsurely.

"Only the grain of wheat knows where it will grow."

"There now, Metella. Have you ever heard such wisdom?" gushed Caecilius, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"Never," said Metella with a small bow of her head. "It's an honour."

"Pardon me, sir. I have guests," said Caecilius quickly, turning to gesture at the three travellers watching on in curiosity. "This is Hartley, Spartacus and, er, Spartacus."

Lucius gave them a long, assessing look. "A name is but a cloud upon a summer wind," he finally said, utterly unbothered. Hartley had a Masters in Literature, and degree in poetry to boot, and yet suddenly even she felt wildly out of her depth. Was any of this supposed to make sense?

"But the wind is felt most keenly in the dark," replied the Doctor, apparently not quite as lost as they were.

"Ah. But what is the dark, other than an omen of the sun?" said Lucius, stepping forwards, suddenly far more interested than he had been before.

"I concede that every sun must set," said the Doctor with surprising ease. "And yet the son of the father must also rise."

"Damn," Lucius muttered. Hartley raised her eyebrows as she felt a flare of attraction towards the Doctor. She found seeing him discuss philosophy with a soothsayer and win to be strangely hot. She looked away to hide the pleased smile curling at her lips. "Very clever, sir. Evidently, a man of learning," conceded the Augur before them.

"Oh, yes. But don't mind me," said the Doctor dismissively. "Don't want to disturb the status quo."

"He's Celtic," Caecilius explained in an undertone.

"We'll be off in a minute," the Doctor told them surely. He wrapped an arm around Donna's shoulders, guiding her away from the group and towards the corner where the TARDIS sat, waiting. Hartley sent the Augur a perfunctory smile, the weight of his beady eyes uncomfortable on her skin.

"I'm not going," Donna was muttering stubbornly.

"You've got to," the Doctor hissed back.

"Well, I'm not."

"Donna," Hartley said, threading an arm through hers and keeping her voice low so as to not attract any attention. "Really, I want to stay and help too, but it isn't that easy."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't," she whispered.

"But why?"

Hartley opened her mouth to respond only to have the Doctor come to a sudden stop. The women followed his gaze to see Caecilius revealing a slab of marble with a vaguely familiar, intricate design scribed into its smooth surface.

"Exactly as you specified. It pleases you, sir?" Caecilius asked hopefully.

"As the rain pleases the soil," Lucius replied vaguely, staring at the marble intently.

"Oh, now that's...different," said the Doctor, attention successfully caught. "Who designed that, then?"

"My Lord Lucius was very specific," said Caecilius emphatically. Hartley felt like something was at foot here, something more than nefarious than just the image of a circuitboard in 79AD.

"Where'd you get the pattern?" asked the Doctor in a casual tone of voice, but Hartley knew he was anything but.

"On the rain and mist and wind," Lucius answered vaguely. She wondered if he ever spoke in anything but poetic riddles.

"But that looks like a circuit," muttered Donna to her friends.

"It is," Hartley confirmed grimly.

"Made of stone," the Doctor added.

"Do you mean you just dreamt that thing up?" Donna asked Lucius skeptically.

Lucius glanced up at her, fire in his eyes. "That is my job, as City Augur," he said sharply.

"What's that, then, like the mayor?" asked Donna confusedly. Hartley had to smile at her matter-of-fact way of speaking. It was definitely refreshing, of that much she was certain.

The Doctor gave an awkward, huffing laugh. "Oh, ha. You must excuse my friend, she's from...Barcelona," he said to the group, who were paying them little attention by now, turning back to assess the marble work before them. "This is an age of superstition," the Doctor continued to Donna and Hartley, low and quiet, for their ears only. "Of official superstition. The Augur is paid by the city to tell the future. The wind will blow from the west? That's the equivalent of ten o'clock news," he added blithely.

"They're laughing at us," came a new voice, and everyone in the room turned to look. A younger girl was shuffling into view. Her skin was pale and waxen, her eyes glazed over, like she were seeing something that wasn't there. "Those three, they use words like tricksters. They're mocking us," the newcomer said, voice weak and detached.

"No, no, I'm not," said the Doctor quickly. "I meant no offence."

"I'm sorry," exclaimed Metella, striding across the room to gather the girl in her arms. "My daughter's been consuming the vapours."

"Oh for gods, Mother. What have you been doing to her?" hissed their son, the anger he felt in his heart trembling in his voice.

"Not now, Quintus," barked Caecilius, casting an embarrassed look over at Lucius.

"Yeah, but she's sick. Just look at her!" Quintus exclaimed.

"I gather I have a rival in this household," said Lucius with easy interest, taking a step closer, eyeing the weak girl with curiosity. "Another with the gift."

"Oh, she's been promised to the Sibylline Sisterhood," Metella assured him. "They say she has remarkable visions," she smiled, like the illness of her daughter was of no consequence. Hartley felt her lips pull down into a disapproving frown.

"The prophecies of women are limited and dull," snapped Lucius, and as one, Hartley and Donna turned their heads to pin him with a narrow-eyed stare. "Only the menfolk have the capacity for true perception," he said coldly.

"I'll tell you where the wind's blowing right now, mate," muttered Donna, and Hartley snorted in amusement, her grin almost arrogant in its pride. She could tell Lucius was a guy who seriously needed to be put in his place. And nobody was better at that than Donna Noble.

Before Hartley could truly revel in Donna's words, the ground began to shake again. The tremor wasn't as violent as before, a mere quiver in comparison, but Hartley still reached out to grasp the Doctor's arm, holding on tightly, keeping her hand there long after the earth had stopped trembling.

"The Mountain god marks your words," said Lucius to Donna, as though the tremor had just won him the argument. "I'd be careful, if I were you." Hartley wondered if it were just her who heard the threat in his words.

"Consuming the vapours, you say?" asked the Doctor, successfully diverting the attention of the room.

"They give me strength," said the girl, who was being held up by her mother, swaying on the spot. It was like she had no strength at all. Hartley watched her with palpable concern; she looked anything but healthy. In fact she looked ready to keel over at a moment's notice. How could any mother let the daughter get into such a state?

"It doesn't look like it to me," the Doctor argued evenly.

The girl swayed again. "Is that your opinion?" she asked, voice thready. "As a doctor?"

In an instant the room fell still. Hartley felt her own insides freeze in place, like someone had injected ice into her veins. Eyes wide, she stared back at the girl, barely daring to even breathe.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Doctor thinly, shock echoing within him.

"Doctor," repeated the girl unsteadily, giving another sway, as if her centre of gravity had been stolen by the vapours, too. "That's your name."

The Doctor considered her carefully. "How did you know that?"

"The Doctor and his Heart," she told them, giving a slow blink. Hartley gripped the Doctor's hand tightly, staring at the girl in pure shock. How could she know that? This title that seemed to follow her throughout all of time and space? How did this one girl from Pompeii know it? It shouldn't have been possible.

"Hartley's my name," she said, almost like she were trying to justify it. But her voice was weak in her surprise, and it wasn't a very convincing attempt.

"No, nut it's who you are," replied the girl with another slow blink. "It's what you are."

Hartley swallowed, staring back as she felt her pulse thrum with added adrenaline.

"And you," the sickly girl said suddenly, turning her bloodshot eyes onto Donna. "You call yourself Noble."

"Now then, Evelina," said her mother abruptly. "Don't be rude."

"No, no, no. Let her talk," the Doctor told her, his interest piqued.

"You three come from so far away," murmured the girl, Evelina, swaying where she stood.

Lucius was practically frothing at the mouth from behind them. "The female soothsayer is inclined to invent all sorts of vagaries," he said dismissively.

"Oh, not this time, Lucius," the Doctor drawled. "No, I reckon you've been out-soothsayed."

"Is that so," began Lucius coldly, "man from Gallifrey?"

The ground beneath their feet gave another violent tremor, as though punctuation to the old soothsayer's words. Hartley felt her insides rattle, swallowing around her dry throat.

The Doctor froze. "What?"

"The strangest of images," the soothsayer purred. "Your home is lost in fire, is it not?"

"Doctor, what are they doing?" Donna asked quickly, and Hartley could feel her growing fright. She let go of the Doctor, winding her arm through Donna's instead, holding on tightly. She gave herself as a grounding presence to the woman, doing what little she could to comfort her. As far as first adventures went, this one was more intense than most.

"And you, daughter of…London," Lucius said without hesitation, peering at Donna like he could see into her very soul.

"How does he know that?" Donna demanded. Hartley gripped her tighter in silent support, and Donna grasped her hand, holding firm.

"And you," he said next, eyes focusing on Hartley like a pair of deadly lasers. "The Heart of the Storm. I see death in you. And yet there is eternity in your eyes."

Hartley didn't bother replying, tilting her chin up defiantly. She wasn't afraid. She wouldn't let them make her afraid. Not anyone. Not ever again.

"How do you know these things?" asked Donna, panic drenching her voice.

"This is the gift of Pompeii," said Lucius, attention back on her, for which Hartley was grateful. "Every single oracle tells the truth."

"That's impossible."

"Doctor," Lucius barked, heedless to Donna's shock, "she is returning."

"Who is? Who's she?" the Doctor demanded.

"And you, daughter of London," he continued without pause. "There is something on your back."

Something about the words struck a chord within Hartley, who gripped Donna tighter, like she might be able to protect her from the universe, from whatever darkness these words held.

"What's that mean?" Donna demanded, growing scared.

"Even the word Doctor is false," said Evelina from the other side of the room. Every eye turned to her, watching as she stumbled away from her concerned mother, eyes focused on the Doctor, hazy with illness. "Your real name is hidden. It burns in the stars, in the Cascade of Medusa herself. You are a Lord, sir," she said, both strong and breathless in the same instant. "A Lord of time."

Then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the floor, drained of strength. The Doctor was the first to react, diving to her side, checking her pulse as her mother appeared, hovering over the girl in maternal terror.

"She's okay," the Doctor promised, already gathering her in his arms, lifting her with impressive strength. "A bed?" he asked her mother, who nodded worriedly, hurrying off into the next room. The Doctor left with her, taking the girl away from the others and safely out of sight.

Donna didn't even pause to think as she hurried out after the Doctor and the girl. Hartley didn't move, left in the centre of the room, the weight of strangers' eyes on her back. She turned, pasting on the closest thing to a confident smile as she could muster.

"Is he really a doctor?" asked Caecilius, unmistakably hopeful as he stared after his daughter in concern.

"Yes," she promised. "He'll do everything he can to help her."

"I'll be going now," said Lucius, derision in his eyes as he nodded to one of his servants who scurried forwards with a small pouch full of coins, handing it off to Caecilius, who took it slowly, as if in a daze. "You'll find it's all there," the soothsayer continued, already turning to leave, as though they were nothing, not even worth a farewell.

"How did you know those things?" Hartley asked before she could stop herself.

Lucius turned back to her with an arrogant smirk. "How do you know of others' sadness, or pain, or glee?" he questioned without pause. Hartley crossed her arms over her chest, made uncomfortable by the onslaught of impossible knowledge. "You convene with the gods, too," he said, confident in his words. "Though perhaps for a different purpose."

"My power comes from within," she argued quickly. "Not from any god."

Lucius only smirked – a smug, superior look – before turning away and leaving through the doors, taking his marble circuitboard with him.

He'd just barely disappeared from sight before the Doctor reappeared, making a beeline for Hartley as though it hadn't occurred to him that anything else might be as important. "You okay?" he asked once he'd reached her, gripping her narrow shoulders in his large, capable hands.

"A little in shock, but otherwise I'm fine," she told him, and he nodded even as his eyes searched her, as though looking for sign of injury. "Is Evelina okay?"

"She should be fine," he replied softly. Neither added that it didn't matter either way – come tomorrow, nothing of her, her family, or the city she called home, would remain.

Hartley moved over to Caecilius who was stashing away his pouch full of Aureus, a frown pulling at his impressive eyebrows.

"Where does Evelina consume these vapours?" she asked him carefully.

"Over here," he told her, leading her over to a vent leading down to what seemed like a hot spring beneath the city. Hot steam rose from it with soft sounds like the hissing of snakes. She leant over it only to cough at the strength of the vapours it was emitting.

The Doctor joined her a moment later, not hesitating to wrench off the grating and set it aside so they could see into it. The metal was hot to the touch, but the Doctor wasn't human, able to handle the heat longer than Hartley would have been capable of.

"Different sort of hypocaust," he murmured, conversational.

"Oh, yes. We're very advanced in Pompeii," said Caecilius proudly. "In Rome, they're still using the old wood-burning furnaces, but we've got hot springs leading from Vesuvius itself."

The Doctor hummed. "Who thought of that?"

"The soothsayers after the great earthquake, seventeen years ago," he replied, taking a seat by the Doctor's side. Hartley was crouched opposite the Doctor, watching him work. "An awful lot of damage. But we rebuilt," said Caecilius with a sure nod.

"Didn't you think of moving away?" the Doctor asked exasperatedly. "Oh no, then again, San Francisco," he allowed, exchanging a knowing look with Hartley that nearly made her grin.

"That's a new restaurant in Naples, isn't it?" Caecilius mumbled, brows pulled into a confused frown, but his question never got answered as a loud snarling noise from below caught their attention. The sound was like a great, hungry beast lay in wait beneath them, hidden by the fumes.

Hartley glanced up at the Doctor in the same instant as he looked up at her. Their eyes met, and they shared their concern. "What's that noise?" he asked Caecilius curiously, the moment over as quickly as it had began.

"Don't know. Happens all the time," he replied, seemingly unbothered, but Hartley could feel the wariness that was itching beneath the skin. "They say the gods of the Underworld are stirring," he added thoughtfully. Hartley wondered what it might be like, to live in a world dictated by the whim of gods from fiery underworlds.

The Doctor absorbed this slowly. "But after the earthquake, let me guess – is that when the soothsayers started making sense?" he asked, the question gentle but probing.

"Oh, yes, very much so," Caecilius confirmed. "I mean, they'd always been, shall we say, imprecise? But then the soothsayers, the augurs, the haruspex, all of them, they saw the truth again and again. It's quite amazing. They can predict crops and rainfall with absolute precision."

"Haven't they said anything about tomorrow?" the Doctor asked before either him or Hartley could think to sensor it.

"No. Why, should they?" asked Caecilius, suddenly concerned. "Why do you ask?"

"No, no. No reason. I'm just asking," the Doctor replied rather unconvincingly. Hartley conceded that for someone who spent a good time of their life lying, he could really be an awful liar. "But the soothsayers, they all consume the vapours, yeah?" he continued on fluidly.

"That's how they see," Caecilius nodded.

The Doctor yanked free his glasses, slipping them onto his nose. "Ipso facto," he muttered to Hartley, who couldn't help but smile.

"Look you," said Caecilius uncomfortably, and Hartley's smile only grew. The Doctor reached into the hole leading to the spring, and when he pulled his hand back out he had something pinched between two fingers.

"They're all consuming this," he said, and both Hartley and Caecilius leaned forwards to get a better look.

"What is it?" Hartley asked, watching as something like dust fell from his fingertips, fluttering back down into the hole, mixing with the vapours.

"Tiny particles of rock," said the Doctor matter-of-factly. Then he brought his fingertips to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick at the dust. Hartley watched with a raised brow as he considered what he'd discovered for a weighty moment. "They're breathing in Vesuvius," he announced grimly.

"What does that mean?" asked Caecilius, trying to understand.

The Doctor switched from concerned and thoughtful to blithe and cheerful in an instant, the change seamless as only he could produce. "Oh, probably nothing," he said brightly, moving to put the grate back in place over the hypocaust.

Hartley wanted answers, but she very much doubted she'd be able to get them from the Doctor while Caecilius was still hovering over them curiously.

"We should go check on Evelina," she suggested quickly.

"Right you are," the Doctor agreed, climbing to his feet quickly and holding out a hand for Hartley to take. She let him pull her to her feet, squeezing his hand softly in thanks.

"Is she going to be okay?" asked Caecilius, and both travellers turned to look at him.

Hartley took in his worry, the kind of bone-deep concern that only a parent could hold, and she smiled calmly. "She'll be fine," she promised him, a bare-faced lie. None of them would be fine, not ever again – but come tomorrow, none of that would matter.

Disgust twisted in her insides and she automatically reached for the Doctor's hand. She found it and held tight. Shooting a final smile at Caecilius, she let the Doctor drag her away, both of them disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

There was a small alcove off the side of the hall and Hartley pulled the Doctor into it, relieved to have a brief moment to themselves. She took a beat to close her eyes breathe deeply. She was hoping to smell the Doctor, knowing his scent would calm her, but instead she just smelled the rusty, smokey scent of the vapours, and sighed in disappointment.

"You okay?" the Doctor asked, fingertips brushing against her chin, gently pushing her head up so their eyes could meet.

"How bad is it?" she asked rather than answer.

A frown creased at his brow. "On a scale of...?" he asked, something that had become a sort of running joke between them. It warmed her to hear it again, calming her down to her atoms.

"Slitheen to Dalek," she supplied, and despite himself, he smiled.

"Slitheen are dangerous, you know?"

"They're ridiculous," she argued playfully, pulling at his tie to fix it in what was a gentle and affectionate move.

He gave a small, huffing laugh that warmed her from the inside out, and she smiled. Silence hovered between them, not awkward or uncomfortable, but heavy with the knowledge they held, and their smiles melted away at the same time, like ice cream in the sun. Hartley kept hold of his tie, the feeling of it under her skin helping to ground her, remind her he was there with her, protecting her.

"Why don't we just leave?" she asked whispered. It wasn't just a question – it was a request. One she knew in her heart would never be fulfilled. "Just get in our big blue box and go?"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "We can't."

"These people..." she trailed off, the words too hard to say. She shut her eyes and forced them out through gritted teeth. "These people are already dead." Opening her eyes to look at him, the Doctor's brown stare glittered with pain. "You said it yourself. It's a fixed point. Anything we do now – come tomorrow, will it even matter?"

He sighed, staring back at her with overwhelming feeling. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we can't leave. Not yet."

She sighed, letting go of his tie to smooth down his jacket lapels, more of an excuse to run her hands over his chest than anything else. "I know," she said, resigned. "It's just…more painful this way."

"I know," he echoed her, voice tinged with empathy.

They took a moment of calm for themselves, but Hartley knew the peace couldn't last forever. Something was set in motion. They were on a journey to whatever the fates decided it might be. And she knew they were going to find out whether they wanted to or not.

"What's next, then?" she asked, keeping close to him and just revelling in the fact that she could.

"I need to talk to Lucius, find out what he's up to," he told her quietly.

"I doubt you can go to Caecilius," she replied, pushing herself up onto her toes to glance over his shoulder, making sure nobody was around to overhear. "He won't want to risk pissing off the City Augur."

"I was going to go to Quintus," he said, reaching up almost in reflex to brush a loose strand of strawberry-blonde hair from her face. Her skin grew warm at the gentle brush of his fingers but she didn't move away, silently hoping he'd do it again.

"Can I come?"

"I want you to stay here with Donna; make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"Like foretell the end of the world?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Anything like that, yeah," he agreed. His smile grew, wide and cheeky, and she felt the sudden urge to kiss him like a bell ringing in her head.

Seeing no reason why she shouldn't, Hartley pushed herself up onto her toes to reach his lips, but before they could meet the curtain separating them from the next room was drawn sharply aside, and the pair broke apart like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Oh, so you're snogging in cupboards now? Really?" Donna asked them, dry and unimpressed. Hartley decided against telling her it wouldn't have been the first time.

"We weren't snogging," the Doctor argued in the tone of an exasperated older brother, but Donna didn't let him finish.

"Just thought I'd let you know Evelina seems to be waking up," she continued with an amused, knowing look at the pair of them before sauntering away like she owned the place.

Hartley rolled her eyes, noting with a small smile that the Doctor's cheeks were flushed slightly pink. "I'll go check on Evelina. You go find out what today's big, evil plan is," she told him, patting him soundly on the chest. "I'll still be here when you get back."

He nodded, watching her as she smiled back one last time before turning away and rushing to catch up with Donna. "You know anything about medicine?" Donna asked hopefully as they walked.

"I took a first aid course in university," Hartley supplied.

"It's gonna have to do," she murmured, leading her into a small, curtained off room, where Evelina was laid back on a bed, blinking up at the ceiling sleepily. "Evelina," said Donna in a kind, gentle voice, "I brought Hartley with me. She'll check you over, make sure you're okay."

"Hey Evelina," Hartley began, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. It seemed to be made of feathers, more comfortable than she expected it to be. "Remember me?"

"The Heart of the Storm," Evelina said, staring up at her with dopey eyes.

"Just Hartley, actually," she smiled kindly. "Can you sit up for me?"

"I'm fine," insisted the younger girl even as Hartley had to help her up. "Really, I am."

"I'm sure that's true," she allowed. "But I would still like to be certain." After quickly checking her over, Hartley deemed her to indeed be okay. "Still, have some water," she added, gesturing for Donna to pour her a glass. She handed it over and Evelina took a healthy sip.

"You wear such strange clothes," said the girl once she was feeling more herself, sitting up unassisted.

Hartley looked down at her wide-legged pants and turtleneck top. They were certainly strange considering the era they'd landed in. "Side effect of travelling so often," she explained easily. "We're not always dressed for to the right occasion."

"Or the era?" Evelina supplied, and both travellers went silent. She smiled, the expression soft and secretive, and instead nodded to the box at the end of her bed. "Why don't you try on some of my dresses? If you're going to be here, you should at least look the part," she said with that small, knowing smile.

"I'm not sure if they'll fit..." Donna tried to say.

"Please," Evelina insisted. Donna and Hartley exchanged a hesitant look, but then the latter smiled, nodding for her to open the chest. It was full of an array of gorgeous garments, each one a different colour than the one before it. Hartley grew excited, leaning over and rifling through them cheerfully. Donna picked one out quickly, turning and disappearing behind the curtain to get changed.

"You like clothes?" Evelina asked Hartley conversationally, taking another sip of water for her dry throat.

"I like self-expression," Hartley corrected her. "Fashion's just one of many different ways I can do that."

"You like words, too," she said, a smile in her voice as Hartley decided on a deep red dress, plucking it free and holding it up to the light. "I can hear it. The beauty of words sing in your blood."

"Words are … they're everything to me. They always have been," she told Evelina with a wistful smile.

"Words have never really been my thing," said Donna blandly, her voice raised as though Hartley might not hear her through the thin curtain separating them. "Always more of a numbers girl, myself. But I guess that's how it is," she added thoughtfully. "In school, you're either a maths-kid or an English-kid."

Donna reappeared dressed in gorgeous purple robes. Evelina immediately began to giggle, and Donna gaped at her in mock-offence.

"You're not supposed to laugh," the redhead chided her playfully. "Thanks for that. What do you think? The Goddess Venus?"

"Oh, that's sacrilege," Evelina gasped. Hartley laughed, stepping around Donna and disappearing behind the curtain, beginning to change into her own robes of choice.

"Nice to see you laugh, though," Donna said kindly. "What do you do in old Pompeii, then, girls your age? You got mates? Do you go hanging about round the shops? TK Maximus?"

Hartley rolled her eyes at the curtain between them but couldn't keep the smile from her face. "I am promised to the Sisterhood for the rest of my life," Evelina said simply.

"Do you get any choice in that?" Donna asked, a frown in her voice.

"It's not my decision. The Sisters chose for me. I have the gift of sight."

"Then..." Donna hesitated, "what can you see happening tomorrow?"

Hartley stepped out from behind the curtain, her smile missing from her face. Neither Donna nor Evelina looked up at her, their eyes locked as they spoke. "Is tomorrow special?" the younger girl asked delicately.

"You tell me," Donna said probingly.

"Donna," Hartley interjected, but she went ignored.

"What do you see?"

Evelina indulged her, closing her eyes and concentrating. "The sun will rise, the sun will set. Nothing special at all," she revealed, shrugging her shoulders simply.

"Look, don't tell the Doctor I said anything because he'll kill me," Donna began slowly. Hartley surged forwards, eyes wide.

"Donna, you can't," she argued, physically stepping between them in an attempt to stop what was about to happen. "This is a bad idea."

"Don't you want to save them?" Donna asked, pain in her eyes and in her heart as she pleaded with Hartley to understand, to agree.

"Of course I want to, but it's more complicated than that," Hartley hissed. Panic welled up in her chest. What would happen if this continued? Would it work out, or would it be disastrous? Would time itself concave into nothing? What would their future become if this event in history was altered?

"Listen, Evelina, I've got a prophecy too," Donna said, heedless of Hartley's warnings. Evelina gasped loudly as if the words had hurt, throwing up her hands to cover her face. On the back of each hand was drawn a single eye, done with some kind of kohl.

"Evelina," Hartley breathed, concerned but knowing enough by now to know not to touch her. Instead she just hovered over her awkwardly, unsure how she could help.

"Evelina, I'm sorry, but you've got to hear me out," Donna tried again.

But Hartley ignored her, leaning closer to Evelina, the girl's emotions a combination of panic and frustration. "Are you okay, Evelina? Can you hear us?"

"Evelina, you need to listen-"

"There is only one prophecy," Evelina insisted in a pitchy voice.

"But everything I'm about to say to you is true, I swear. Just listen to me," Donna pushed ahead. "Tomorrow, that mountain is going to explode."

"Donna, for God's sake," Hartley hissed sternly.

"No, I'm doing this, Hart – whether you like it or not," Donna retorted, filled with desperation as she turned back to Evelina, who was still curled in on herself like it would protect her from the words Donna was saying. "Evelina, please listen. The air is going to fill with ash and rocks, tons and tons of it, and this whole town is going to get buried."

"That's not true," Evelina cried.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but everyone's going to die. Even if you don't believe me, just tell your family to get out of town. Just for one day. Just for tomorrow. But you've got to get out. You've got to leave Pompeii."

"This is false prophecy!" Evelina shouted, growing hysterical.

Before either woman could say anything to help the ground began to shake. Not a long tremble, like before, but instead a single pulse, like something large and angry had slammed against the earth beneath their feet. All was silent as the three girls looked at one another, confusion on their faces.

Then it happened again, a sharp bang and a quivering ground. It happened once more, and it was then Hartley realised what it was. Footsteps.

"Up," Hartley ordered Evelina quickly, hurrying to her side and beginning to help her out of bed. "Up, now. We need to find the others."

"What's going on?" demanded Donna, struggling to stand upright with the shaking of the floor beneath her feet.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one," Hartley admitted, wrapping one arm around Evelina and guiding her gently out the door towards the main room of her family's villa.

"What is it?" Metella was asking where she stood by their household fountain, her voice shrill. "What's that noise?"

"It doesn't sound like Vesuvius," said Caecilius, standing beside one of his precious sculptures to be sure it didn't fall and shatter.

"Just stay calm," Hartley told them, her voice even in comparison to theirs.

"Caecilius?!" the Doctor appeared just as she spoke, barrelling into the room at top speed, like something was chasing him. Not totally unsurprising – something usually was. "All of you, get out!" he ordered them, coming to a sudden stop by Hartley and Donna, grasping the latter by the shoulders as he glanced wildly around the room, searching for the source of the footsteps.

"Doctor, what is it?" Donna asked quickly, her panic mounting.

"I think we're being followed," he revealed, still scanning the room for a threat. In a burst of activity the grill to the hypocaust flew into the air with a deafening bang, spinning in the air before landing on the stone floor with a loud crash. "Just get out!" he bellowed, but nobody listened, not even Hartley.

There was an almighty crack and the entire hypocaust burst open, stone and metal and fire thrust across the room. A thing appeared in its place, something massive and hulking climbing up from the underworld itself. Made of stone and lava, its skin crackled with dangerous heat. The room screamed, everyone scrambling backwards, desperately trying to get away from the thing, so tall its head nearly brushed the ceiling.

"The gods are with us," gasped Evelina, staring up at the creature with reverence.

"Water. We need water! Quintus – all of you, get water. Donna, Hartley!"

"This way!" Donna cried over the mayhem, grasping Hartley's arm and yanking her out the door after her. Just outside there was another fountain with a pile of wooden buckets stacked beside it. They hurried to grasp one each, moving quickly as they dipped them into the pool of water, filling them up and then turning to take them back inside.

Hartley took a second longer than Donna, and when she looked up it was to see a handful of women grabbing her friend and wrenching her unwillingly to the side. "Donna!" Hartley screamed, but the sound of it was lost over the furious roars of the magma-creature inside the villa.

Dropping her bucket, she moved to one of the robed women. She was a pacifist by nature, but if someone was going to try and abduct her friends, she sure as hell was going to do something about it.

She threw a punch that had the masked woman turning on her in a heartbeat. Thrusting out her hand, the woman's palm slammed into Hartley's nose and pain radiated through her head. Before she could so much as scream for the Doctor there was another sharp pain in the back of her skull, and she felt herself falling into a pair of lean, unfamiliar arms before everything went horribly dark.


When Hartley came to it was to a series of unintelligible chanting and the luminous dancing of open flames.

"Donna," she was saying before she was even fully conscious, the words an instinct. Was Donna okay? If she wasn't, Hartley wasn't sure what she'd do with herself. Wasn't sure if she'd survive it.

"Oh great, now she wakes up!" exclaimed Donna's demanding voice, and Hartley's entire body relaxed as pure, unadulterated relief flooded her veins like a drug. "Where were you two minutes ago before they tied you up – when you could have actually been of some use!"

"What?" Hartley asked, still groggy. It only took another beat for her to realise what Donna was on about, tugging at her hands only to find them bound above her. She was tied up to a hook hanging from the ceiling. How novel was that?

She was at the far end of a large, sprawling room. It looked to be some kind of temple, full of women in those fancy robes. All of them were convened around a table in the centre of the room where Donna lay, bound by her hands and feet. They were still chanting, heedless to the other women's cries.

"You die again, then?" Donna called, almost conversational.

Hartley groaned. "Do you have to be so blasé about the whole thing?" she complained, scraping her shoes against the floor and tugging uselessly at her bound wrists.

"Not like it matters – you're immortal," Donna reminded her primly, as if she might have forgotten. It was sort of refreshing, she had to admit, not to have someone tiptoe around the issue. She actually sort of enjoyed it. It made her feel normal, to some degree.

"Just knocked out," she answered the original question. "You don't seem to be doing so well," she added, also conversational in tone.

"You think?!" Donna hissed. Hartley was nothing if not empathetic to her plight.

"Kidnapped on your first trip – I wish I could say it was a new record, but I think at this point I've probably seen it all."

"You're not helping, Hart," Donna growled, furiously tugging at the ropes binding her to the table. "What're they doing with me, anyway? Some kind of ritual?"

"Sacrifice, most likely."

"You have got to be kidding me," Donna growled. Even despite the dire situation Hartley managed a smile. The women surrounding them finally stopped their chanting and Hartley watched as the one holding the blade moved closer to Donna.

"Hey!" Hartley screamed at her with everything she had, attempting to throw suggestive emotions in her directions, hoping to oil her resolve. "Hey, stay away from her! I mean it!"

The one with the knife paused, and Hartley knew she was feeling they sway of her efforts. But just as quickly she shook it off and turned back to her task. "The false prophet will surrender both her blood and her breath," she announced ritualistically.

"I'll surrender you in a minute. Don't you dare!" bellowed Donna, writhing where she lay, struggling with everything she had to get free.

"You will be silent," ordered Knife Girl.

"Listen, sister, you might have eyes on the back of your hands, but you'll have eyes in the back of your head by the time I've finished with you. Let me go!" Donna screamed, and Hartley opened her mouth to join in when she felt the atmosphere of the room shift, growing warm in a way that could only mean one thing.

With a gasp she glanced sharply to the right, more than relieved to see the Doctor standing casually against one of the temple walls. Eyes bright with relief, the Doctor met her stare long enough to shoot her a playful wink.

His happy expression melted, however, when he caught sight of her face, and judging by the dried blood she could taste on her lips, she looked anything but unharmed.

He looked away just as quickly, eyes returning to Donna, the one in more immediate danger.

"This prattling voice will cease forever!" Knife Girl lifted the blade, its tip hovering over Donna's heart.

"Oh, that'll be the day," drawled the Doctor, looking for all the world utterly at ease.

The robed women all gasped in horror. "No man is allowed to enter the Temple of Sibyl!" exclaimed Knife Girl, aghast.

"Well, that's all right. Just us girls," the Doctor strolled forwards, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Do you know, I met the Sibyl once. Yeah, hell of a woman. Blimey, she could dance the Tarantella. Nice teeth. Truth be told, I think she had a bit of a thing for me. I said it would never last. She said, I know. Well, she would," he sniffed.

"You trying to make me jealous?" Hartley shouted, unable to help herself. Their banter came easier than breathing, and it was the only thing she could think to do to help calm her racing pulse.

"I like to keep you on your toes," he replied, just as casual. "You all right there?" he asked Donna, already fishing out the sonic.

"Oh, never better," Donna said, the words easy.

"I like the toga."

"Thank you. And the ropes?"

"Yeah, not so much."

He aimed the sonic at Donna's restraints. They fell free, as if by magic. Then, as soon as Donna was unbound he turned to Hartley, crossing the space between them in a few short steps and aiming the screwdriver at the spot above her head.

Her cuffs broke open and she dropped the final inch to the floor. The Doctor caught her in his arms, wrapping them around her and immediately bringing her into his chest, as though he could shield her from all the dangers of the world in a single embrace.

"Okay?" he asked under his breath.

"I'm the king of okay," she replied playfully. He gave a wry sort of a grin at her typical response.

"What magic is this?" Knife Girl demanded furiously.

"Let me tell you about the Sibyl, the founder of this religion," hissed the Doctor, ignoring their shock. "She would be ashamed of you. All her wisdom and insight turned sour. Is that how you spread the word, hey? On the blade of a knife?"

"Yes, a knife that now welcomes you," bellowed Knife Girl, holding up her dagger, pointy end aimed smack bang between the Doctor's twin hearts. Without second thought to her own life, Hartley shoved him back so she stood as a barrier between him and the weapon.

Thankfully, however, none of them had to find out how that might have ended. A voice called out, "show me this man," and all of the robed women dropped respectfully to their knees.

"High Priestess, the stranger would defile us," said Knife Girl, the only one not to kneel.

"Let me see. This one is different. He carries starlight in his wake," said the High Priestess, her voice harsh, like two stones being rubbed together.

"Oh, very perceptive," drawled the Doctor, pressing a hand to the small of Hartley's back, gently urging her forwards until they all stood before the curtain hiding the Priestess from sight. "Where do these words of wisdom come from?"

"The gods whisper to me," the seer answered roughly.

"They've done far more than that. Might I beg audience? Look upon the High Priestess?"

The veil obscuring their view was promptly drawn out of the way, revealing the High Priestess in all her glory. Made entirely of stone, she was stiff and rigid, her features almost impossible to ascertain given that her face was so chipped. She was nothing but a living statue, cursed by the evil creatures she worshipped as gods.

"Oh, my God," breathed Donna in unbridled horror. "What's happened to you?"

"The heavens have blessed me," the High Priestess told them proudly even as she gasped for breath, like her lungs, too, were made of rock.

"If I might...?" the Doctor requested gently, stepping forwards.

She held out a hand, and both he and Hartley stepped forwards to get a better look, only for the High Priestess to wrench her hand back. "She is not welcome," she spat in her gravelly voice. "She reeks of the never ending death; of the unholy immortality."

Inexplicably hurt, Hartley shuffled back until she was beside Donna once more. After a moment the High Priestess held her hand out again for the Doctor to see. He took it without hesitation, eyeing it thoughtfully. "Does it hurt?" he asked her gently.

"It is necessary."

"Who told you that?" he asked, nothing but compassionate.

"The voices."

Hartley felt sick to her stomach. Who could manipulate these girls into worshipping them, into converting themselves into stone, and still have the nerve to call it a religion?

"Is that what's going to happen to Evelina?" Donna demanded, voice dripping with horror. "Is this what's going to happen to all of you?"

Knife Girl approached them, but the moment she was close enough to touch, afraid of what they might say if they did. "The blessings are manifold," said the girl, unbothered by Hartley's wariness.

"They're stone," said Donna with a gasp as the girl revealed her transforming arm.

"Exactly," the Doctor exclaimed, pushing away from the High Priestess, letting her go and standing to his feet. "The people of Pompeii are turning to stone before the volcano erupts. But why?" he posed the question, hand pressed again to Hartley's spine, a reassuring weight.

"This word, this image in your mind. This volcano," said the High Priestess, her words bordering on a plea. She didn't understand, and Hartley could tell that she hated not knowing. "What is that?"

"More to the point, why don't you know about it?" the Doctor mused, still touching Hartley until finally he broke away, stepping closer to the High Priestess, emanating a silent threat. He was going to get answers, of that much Hartley was certain. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"High Priestess of the Sibylline," she responded in that dying, crackling voice.

"No, no, no, no. I'm talking to the creature inside you. The thing that's seeding itself into a human body, in the dust in the lungs, taking over the flesh and turning it into, what?" he asked, voice turning venomous. If there was one thing that was just unacceptable to the Doctor, it was the destruction of human life.

"Your knowledge is impossible," the Priestess – or maybe the creature – wheezed.

"Oh, but you can read my mind. You know it's not," he said, at ease until he continued on, voice like a shard of ice, cold and deadly. "I demand you tell me who you are!"

"We are awakening," the High Priestess responded, but it wasn't only her anymore. Now there was another voice, one deep and resonating, echoing with a dark power that made Hartley break out in chills.

"The voice of the gods," one of the Sisters gasped, and as one they all began to mindlessly chant, rocking back and forwards like scared little children. "Words of wisdom, words of power. Words of wisdom, words of power..."

"Name yourself," the Doctor demanded, growing tired of the back and forth. He rounded on the creature, fury of the Time Lord in his eyes. "Planet of origin. Galactic coordinates. Species designation according to the universal ratification of the Shadow Proclamation."

"We are rising!" the creature inside the Priestess roared, head tilted back. Hartley's chest hurt. The woman – the human inside, whatever might have been left of her – was in so much pain. It was like flames of an inferno licking at Hartley's skin, and she wasn't even the one feeling it firsthand.

"Tell me your name!" the Doctor screamed back, unrelenting.

"Pyrovile!"

There was a beat of crushing silence, then the Sisters began to obediently chant, "Pyrovile. Pyrovile. Pyrovile."

"Doctor?" Hartley prompted him when he didn't immediately speak. "What's a Pyrovile?"

"Well, that's a Pyrovile, growing inside her," he explained to his companions under his breath. "She's a halfway stage."

"What, and that turns into...?" Donna trailed off, and Hartley knew they were all thinking of the monster that had attacked them back at the villa.

"That was an adult Pyrovile," the Doctor confirmed grimly.

"And the breath of a Pyrovile will incinerate you, Doctor."

"I warn you, I'm armed," announced the Doctor, and Hartley was shocked until she glanced over to see him holding a plastic water pistol in hand. It took everything she had not to roll her eyes. "Donna, get that grill open," he ordered Donna sharply.

"What for?" she asked, confused.

The Doctor looked about ready to scream in frustration. "Best not to ask questions," Hartley muttered to Donna, who understood and quickly went about completing her task.

"What are the Pyrovile doing here?" asked the Doctor in a rush, like he knew the time to get answers was limited. Hartley wondered what was going to come next. Was descending into the underworld really their best option?

"We fell from the heavens. We fell so far and so fast, we were rendered into dust."

"Right, creatures of stone shattered on impact. When was that, seventeen years ago?"

"We have slept beneath for thousands of years."

"Okay, so seventeen years ago woke you up, and now you're using human bodies to reconstitute yourselves. But why the psychic powers?"

"We opened their minds and found such gifts."

"Okay, that's fine. So you force yourself inside a human brain, use the latent psychic talent to bond. I get that, yeah. But seeing the future? That is way beyond psychic. You can see through time. Where does the gift of prophecy come from?"

"Got it!" Donna announced from where she had been working on the grate.

"Now get down," the Doctor ordered her.

"What, down there?"

"Yes, down there," he snapped back. "Hartley, you too," he barked, and knowing better than to argue, she did exactly as she was told. Turning, she stepped around the bowing sisters and made her way over to Donna, leaning over to peer into the eerie hot spring beneath them. "Why can't this lot predict a volcano? Why is it being hidden?" the Doctor asked the thing inside the Priestess.

"Sisters, I see into his mind. The weapon is harmless."

The Doctor sighed, exasperated as he usually was when things began to unravel. "Yeah," he conceded, "but it's got to sting." He began to squirt water at the creature, which cried out in agony. "Get down there!" he shouted at the women, both of whom yelped as they tumbled down the hole and into the valley of fire.

Hartley landed on her hands and knees, feeling her skin break and sting on impact. Grunting, she rolled out of the way just in time as the Doctor dropped down beside them.

"You fought her off with a water pistol. I bloody love you!" Donna exclaimed, but the Doctor was paying little attention, too busy helping Hartley to her feet then booking it down the path.

"This way," he called over his shoulder.

"Where are we going now?"

"Into the volcano!" he told her cheerfully, over the crackling of crackling fire and roaring magma.

"No way."

"Yes, way," he shot back, bright. "Appian way!"

Hartley stumbled after him, using the wall to help steady herself. "That was so cheesy," she complained even through a smile.

"It's a gift."

"How d'you do that?" Donna asked Hartley, voice ringing loud over the roar of the volcano.

Hartley frowned in confusion. "Do what?"

"Smile even though you're soaked in blood."

Realising she probably looked like a complete and utter mess, Hartley's cheeks flamed. She grabbed the sleeve of her borrowed toga and began to scrub at her face where the blood had long since dried. "Broken nose?" the Doctor asked from ahead of them, voice carefully devoid of emotion.

"It's already healed," she assured him, noting the tension held in his shoulders.

He didn't turn back to look, but something about the tension made her uneasy. She couldn't feel his emotions. They were locked up even tighter than usual. It was strangely offensive, and she wondered why he constantly felt the need to hide from her like that. What was so bad about what he felt for her that he couldn't let her know?

"Wait, maybe this is how we can save everyone!" exclaimed Donna some minutes later as they huffed and puffed their way deeper into the fiery belly of the volcano. It was stiflingly hot, and Hartley's clothes were beginning to stick uncomfortably to her skin, hair curling from the damp, heavy on her head.

"What're you talking about?" asked the Doctor from where he remained up ahead.

"If it's aliens setting off the volcano, doesn't that make it all right for you to stop it?" she asked, as though she thought she'd just solved the problem; found some cosmic loophole the Doctor had overlooked.

But the Doctor just shook his head. "Still part of history."

"But I'm history to you. You saved me in 2008. You saved us all. Why is that different?" she pressed stubbornly.

"Some things are fixed, some things are in flux. Pompeii is fixed," he replied.

"How do you know which is which?"

The Doctor stopped walking so abruptly that Hartley nearly smacked into him. She stopped just short and looked up at him, his face lit up in the glow of the nearby magma.

"Because that's how I see the universe. Every waking second, I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not," he told her, voice dark and ancient, ringing with all the years he'd lived. "That's the burden of a Time Lord, Donna. And I'm the only one left."

Then he turned and walked away, and suddenly Hartley could feel him again. The pain within him echoing like a sound you couldn't hear with your ears, but rather with your heart. It made her eyes burn with tears and she swallowed back the agony, looking away as she struggled to contain herself.

"How many people died?" Donna yelled after him, and Hartley shut her eyes at the question. The answer to which she'd been trying her best not to think about; knowing it would haunt her forever.

"Stop it," he snarled, refusing to turn back.

"Doctor, how many people died?"

He stopped, spinning around and levelling Donna with a glare that made a note of fear spike in Donna's heart. Maybe not fear of the Doctor himself, but rather fear of what he might become if this came to pass.

"Twenty thousand," he said, hating himself more with every syllable.

Donna's eyes glittered with tears. "Is that what you can see, Doctor? All twenty thousand? And you think that's all right, do you?"

The pain the Doctor felt magnified, and Hartley realised maybe he wasn't letting her see it after all. Maybe it had just become so great he couldn't contain it all, some spilling through the cracks.

Patience snapping like a band, Hartley rounded on the Donna with a glare. "Donna, you've only been here five minutes – you don't get to just walk in and-"

"You're right," Donna allowed, and Hartley fell silent in surprise. "I haven't been here as long as you. Which is why it shouldn't be me saying these things. It should be you – but instead you're too concerned with making lovey eyes at him to focus on the bigger picture!"

This time it was the Doctor coming to her defence, stepping forwards and reproachfully saying, "Donna."

"You've become complacent, Hartley," Donna told her, words ringing with truth. "You're meant to be the Heart – his Heart – that's who you are. You're meant to be the kind one; the compassionate one. What happened to you?"

It stung like a slap, but before Hartley could even begin to gather her wits enough to reply there was a distant roar that shook the very rock beneath their feet.

"They know we're here. Come on," the Doctor hissed, grasping Hartley by the hand and yanking. The corridors of rock only grew hotter and narrower the closer they travelled the the heart of the volcano. Hartley pulled off the shawl she'd had wrapped haphazardly around her waist, abandoning it carelessly on the ground.

No more words were said, and tensions were at an all time high by the time they reached the centre of the mountain, populated entirely by Pyroviles.

"It's the heart of Vesuvius," the Doctor announced in a hushed whisper, watching the giant, hulking Pyroviles as they plodded past, taking no notice of the three tiny little people crouched behind a big pile of rocks in the corner. "We're right inside the mountain."

"There's tons of them," breathed Donna.

"What's that thing?" mused the Doctor, fishing a monocular from his bottomless pockets, holding it up to get a better look.

"Don't suppose you have a water bomb the exact size of Mt Vesuvius inside those pockets of yours, by any chance?" Hartley mumbled to him quietly.

"Left it in my other suit," he muttered back, and in spite of their dire situation, Hartley's lips curved upwards into a smile.

"Oh, you better hurry up and think of something. Rocky fall's on its way," said Donna, eyeing a passing Pyrovile with contempt.

"That's how they arrived. Or what's left of it," the Doctor murmured to himself as he assessed the object in the distance. It was a pod of some kind, spherical in shape. It would look almost identical to any of the other rocks laying around the mountain, if not for the cracked door exposing futuristic circuitry and machinery. "Escape pod? Prison ship? Gene bank?"

"But why do they need a volcano? Maybe it erupts, and they launch themselves back into space or something?" Donna suggested wildly.

The Doctor's expression was drawn. "Oh, I think it's worse than that," he said darkly.

"How could it be worse?" Donna asked plainly. There was a thunderous growl and the ground below them trembled as whatever was guarding the place steadily grew closer. "Doctor, it's getting closer," she pressed anxiously.

"Where do we go?" Hartley hissed, the pit in her stomach growing as she wondered how their situation could possibly get any worse.

"Heathens defile us!" an unwelcome voice bellowed from across the cavern. They turned to see Lucius glowering down at them victoriously from where he was stood on a rocky cliff high up above them, a Pyrovile at his side. "They would desecrate your temple, my lord gods!"

"Come on!" the Doctor shouted, springing to his feet and dragging them along after him.

"We can't go in!" Donna argued.

"Well, we can't go back."

"Crush them! Burn them!"

They ran, but a Pyrovile appeared in front of them, seeming to materialise from the very stone itself, like they it one with the rock. The Doctor produced the water pistol from before, shooting the looming creature with cool water and watching as it sizzled away.

They turned, making a beeline for the pod but coming to a stop just outside of it. Hartley wanted to get them inside the thing where they would be just that little bit more safe, but the Doctor spun around to face Lucius, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he had a plan forming in his mind.

"There is nowhere to run, Doctor, Heart of the Storm, Daughter of London!" Lucius called to them in his nasal, sneering voice.

"Now then, Lucius. My lords Pyrovillian, don't get yourselves in a lather. In a lava? No? No. But if I might beg the wisdom of the gods before we perish?" the Doctor asked loudly. "Once this new race of creatures is complete, then what?"

"My masters will follow the example of Rome itself. An almighty empire, bestriding the whole of civilisation!" said Lucius with misplaced pride. Hartley felt sick again.

"But if you've crashed, and you've got all this technology, why don't you just go home?" Donna cried over the Pyroviles and their loud, guttural roars.

"The Heaven of Pyrovillia is gone," Lucius told them.

"What do you mean, gone? Where's it gone?" demanded the Time Lord between them.

"It was taken. Pyrovillia is lost. But there is heat enough in this world for a new species to rise."

"Yeah, I should warn you," the Doctor said simply, "it's seventy percent water out there."

"Water can boil. And everything will burn, Doctor," snarled the soothsayer victoriously, like he was spearheading a war he'd already won.

Hartley felt the change in the Doctor's emotions as clearly as she could her own. Grim acceptance flooded him, and she watched as he nodded in understanding. "Then the whole planet is at stake. Thank you. That's all I needed to know. Girls," he said, turning and ushering them into the pod behind them, then sealing the door shut with the sonic.

There was a beat of silence as all three friends took a deep breath in and turned to assess the intricate panelling of circuits before them. "Could we be any more trapped?" huffed Donna, and Hartley had to agree.

"Where can we go?" she asked the Doctor, giving the small space another glance. There didn't seem to see anything that could help, but that didn't mean much – she could barely use a television remote. This really was the Doctor's area of expertise, and she turned to him hopefully.

Only he was silent, staring at the circuits with wild eyes.

The temperature in the pod skyrocketed. It felt like they were in an oven, cooking on high. Fear thrummed through her – she would be fine, she always was, even when she sometimes desperately wished she wouldn't be.

The Doctor and Donna, on the other hand, were anything but impervious to flames. If they stood there much longer, they'd cook from the inside out. And Hartley would be damned if she was going to stand there and watch it happen.

She felt the Doctor's indecision, felt his pain like it were her own, and tears came unbidden to her eyes.

"Little bit hot," Donna murmured, the understatement of the year, fanning herself with her hand.

"See?" the Doctor said, distracted as he fiddled with the controls. "The energy converter takes the lava, uses the power to create a fusion matrix, which welds Pyrovile to human. Now it's complete, they can convert millions," he breathed in horror.

"But can't you change it with these controls?"

Pain reappeared, like a white hot poker on her heart, only it wasn't her own. The pain wasn't hers to feel, but she did anyway.

"Of course I can, but don't you see?" the Doctor snarled, glaring at the circuits like they were at fault. "That's why the soothsayers can't see the volcano. There is no volcano. Vesuvius is never going to erupt. The Pyrovile are stealing all its power. They're going to use it to take over the world."

Donna hadn't realised yet, Hartley could tell. She, on the other hand, understood with a sinking gut exactly what it was the Doctor was saying. It was an impossible choice, one she knew would haunt her Time Lord for the rest of his days.

"But you can change it back?" Donna ploughed ahead, not seeing the problem.

The Doctor gave a sharp exhale of frustration. "I can invert the system, set off the volcano, and blow them up, yes. But, that's the choice, Donna. It's Pompeii or the world."

Donna looked sick to her stomach. "Oh, my God," she breathed, tears in her eyes.

"If Pompeii is destroyed then it's not just history, it's me," the Doctor said, horrified and guilty before he'd even done anything. He'd already made his choice, he just didn't want to admit it. "I make it happen," he whispered, ashamed.

Hartley felt like she couldn't move, frozen with horror. The Doctor was moving quickly, setting about manipulating the controls, making it so they could do this, so they could destroy the Pyroviles – and take Pompeii with them.

"Doctor, the Pyrovile are made of rocks. Maybe they can't be blown up," Donna cried, scrambling for something, anything that might get them out of this terrible decision.

"Vesuvius explodes with the force of twenty four nuclear bombs. Nothing can survive it." He paused, turning back to Donna with regretful eyes. "Certainly not us."

Donna swallowed, the reality of the situation taking her by surprise. "Never mind us," she said, sincere and full of unyielding acceptance.

They Doctor swallowed, then placed his hands on the lever in the middle of the controls. "Push this lever and it's over," he said weakly, eyes misty and distant. "Twenty thousand people," he murmured, self-hatred like a fire under his skin.

"Doctor," Hartley said, unable to keep silent any longer. He turned, finally looking at her. The pain and remorse he was feeling hit her front on, like a wave of emotion, and her eyes stung. She stepped closer, reaching up to press a hand to his face. He stared down at her with watering eyes, and she brushed the pad of her thumb tenderly over his cheekbone.

A tear finally escaped her eye, realising what this meant. If they couldn't survive it, then they couldn't survive it. Worse still, she would.

"I don't want to go on without you," she whispered, more of a revelation than a plea.

"You'll be okay," he smiled gently, eyes following the path of another tear as it trickled down her face. "You're the king of okay," he reminded her in a futile attempt at levity.

"There is no decision we can make that doesn't come with some sort of balance or sacrifice," she reminded him breathily. He nodded, understanding what she was trying to say.

She gripped his face tighter, refusing to so much as blink as she stared up at him, wrestling with herself. She was being forced to let him go. She felt like he was being torn from her grasp. She knew she could survive anything – but in the back of her mind, she had to wonder whether this was the one thing in the universe she wouldn't survive: losing the Doctor.

"I have to do this now, Hart," he whispered, regret in his voice and remorse flowing from his skin.

She wanted to say it, those three words that held such power, but she wasn't ready – and now she never would be. Saying them felt so final, saying them made it real. But she was an Empath, and she didn't need words to let someone know how she felt.

Pushing herself up onto her toes, she quickly pressed their lips together in a chaste but heartfelt kiss. With everything she had, she pushed those feelings at him, letting him know exactly how she felt, exactly what she couldn't bring herself to say.

It was over as soon as it had begun, and she forced herself to pull away. With a sniffle, she turned to the lever and wrapped her hands around the Doctor's where they lay, ready to end it all. Donna's hands were there too, already prepared to help, so the Doctor wasn't doing it alone.

As one, the trio took a deep breath, and then they pushed.

It happened so quickly. One moment they were steady, the next the pod was being tossed around like a tennis ball. They all fell to one side and Hartley's shoulder smashed into the side of the pod. Pain radiated down her arm but she ignored it, putting her energy into steadying the others.

Her stomach disappeared from under her, giving a swoop like she were on the most wild rollercoaster of all time, and the pod got even hotter, like they were mere metres away from the sun itself. Donna screamed, loud and piercing.

They seemed to be moving and dropping and cooking for hours, but in reality it was probably only a few seconds. Then they hit something with enough force to knock them all together like bowling pins.

Everything was still, then the Doctor opened the hatch and toppled out onto the soil. "It was an escape pod," he breathed, reaching in to fish both of them out before turning to survey the damage.

Hartley didn't want to look up, but she knew it would only delay the inevitable. With great reluctance she glanced up to see Vesuvius exploding with terrifying force, like an atomic bomb going off in her backyard.

"Come on!" the Doctor yelled over the angry rumbling of the volcano. He grasped Hartley's hand, holding on tightly and tugging. Hartley grabbed onto Donna, and together they ran, pushing themselves faster than they'd ever gone, fighting to stay ahead of the wave of sulphur and rock and ash that was rolling towards them like the first wave of a deadly tsunami.

The town was in a chaos, every single person crying and screaming with unadulterated terror. Hartley couldn't stop to look. She couldn't spare even a moment to meet anybody's eyes. All she could do was run, pushing her legs harder, picturing the safety of the TARDIS in her mind.

They would get there. They would be okay. They would survive.

"Don't go to the beach! Don't go to the beach, go to the hills! Listen to me! Don't go to the beach, it's not safe! Listen to me!" Donna was screeching into the bedlam, imploring them, begging them to just listen. Hartley whimpered, spotting a boy who couldn't have been more than five crying all alone.

Ash fell from the sky like a lethal snow. It was getting hard to breathe, the air toxic and thick.

"Come on!" the Doctor yelled to Donna, grasping her arm and forcefully dragging her back in the direction of the villa.

Glass shattered as clumps of rock fell from the sky. The roads were overflowing with the panicking dead. Hartley thought it couldn't get any worse, but then they burst into the villa to see Caecilius and his family cowering in a corner, the father's arms wrapped around his children like he might be able to protect them if he just held on tight enough.

"Gods save us, Doctor!" the man shouted, tears of terror in his eyes.

The Doctor didn't listen, turning and heading straight for the TARDIS, shoving his way inside. Hartley felt frozen, staring at the kind little family all scared out of their minds, living through what, to them, was the end of the world.

Donna's words from earlier echoed in her mind, haunting her waking thoughts.

"No! Doctor, you can't. Doctor!" Donna screamed after the Time Lord brokenly, but the TARDIS only gave a groan as he began to leave. Torn in two, Hartley sobbed. "Hart – you have to stop him!" Donna pleaded with her.

"Donna-"

"You have to!" she cried, tears making clear paths in the ash on her face. "You have to!"

And Hartley knew she was right. This wasn't who she was. She wasn't the one who stood idly by and let people die. She wasn't the one who abided by the Doctor's unfair rules.

With renewed resolve, Hartley shoved her way into the TARDIS, Donna close on her heels. "You take this back, right now!" Hartley screamed at the Doctor. She felt rather like someone had scooped out her insides and used them as kindling.

It was like she was watching this as an observer. It wasn't her making these decisions, or shouting at the Doctor. It was who she was meant to be, maybe, or who she was going to be one day. She didn't often stand up to him, but Donna was right; this was her purpose. This was who she was.

"Hartley-" the Doctor began in a dark, detached voice, not so much as glancing up from the console.

"You can't just leave them!" Donna yelled, the doors closing behind her and the floor of the TARDIS shuddering as it dematerialised.

"Don't you think I've done enough?" the Doctor snarled, patience chipped away to nothing. "History's back in place and everyone dies."

"You've got to go back. Doctor, I am telling you, take this thing back!" Donna yelled forcefully, more tears streaming down her face. The Doctor only yanked on a lever to send them into the vortex, the ship giving a lurch that went ignored by all.

"This isn't you," Hartley said, voice darker than it had ever been, giving the Doctor pause.. "This isn't you, this isn't right, and this isn't fair!" she felt like she were screaming it into the void, another tear escaping down her ash-smeared face. She felt the pain like a bullet being slowly driven, inch by inch, into her heart.

"You're right Hartley!" the Doctor hissed, spinning around to glare at her, radiating self-loathing. "It's not fair!"

They collapsed into silence, and Donna whimpered. "But your own planet," she cried, voice trembling. "It burned."

Something in the Doctor snapped, and he whirled around to glower at her, pain seeping out of his very pores. This time it was Hartley who whimpered, arms coming up to wrap around herself, a weak comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"That's just it. Don't you see, Donna? Can't you understand?" the Doctor snarled. More tears trickled down the length of Hartley's face, mixing with the blood she still hadn't completely washed off. "If I could go back and save them, then I would. But I can't. I can never go back. I can't. I just can't."

He looked away, unable to handle the weight of their stares, unable to handle his own agony.

"Just someone," Donna whispered. "Please. Not the whole town. Just save someone," she begged him.

His resolve wavered, looking up at his friends with tortured eyes. His gaze flickered between them, taking in the pleading of Donna to the unending compassion of Hartley. "Please," Hartley whimpered, "please, be the man I know you are."

The Doctor didn't speak for a long while. He said nothing, just turning back to the console and beginning to work the controls. Nothing happened for a minute, and they wondered if they hadn't gotten through to him at all, if he was just going to fly away like all of this meant nothing.

But then they landed and the Doctor walked silently down the ramp, opening the door and letting in the chaos of the dying Pompeii.

"Come with me," he said, and relief filled Hartley like the breaking of a dam. Her knees nearly buckled but she caught herself on the console in time, watching with wet eyes as the family of four were brought aboard the TARDIS.

They didn't spare time to marvel at the bigger-on-the-inside box, they didn't have the emotional capacity to even notice. Everything they knew was burning and all they could do was stand there, reeling from the shock as the Doctor piloted his ship, taking them away from the death of Pompeii.

The Doctor landed the ship only a moment later, and he gently manoeuvred the family further into the TARDIS, murmuring something about Donna taking them to clean up. Hartley didn't follow, her legs feeling frozen beneath her. Holding herself up on the console, she stared into empty space, the inside of her mind so loud she couldn't focus on one single thought. It was all just a blur, eyes stinging with emotion.

"Hartley." She wasn't sure how much time had passed – either hours or seconds – but then the Doctor was standing in front of her, a damp cloth in his hand. "Hartley," he repeated when she didn't reply.

"Doctor," she said instinctively, feeling strangely numb from the whole experience as she moved her eyes away from nothing so she was staring back at him. He was no longer bleeding pain, but instead a calm reassurance – one she didn't doubt was intentional. Still, she appreciated the effort.

"You're still covered in blood," he told her quietly, stepping closer and slowly bringing the cloth to her face.

She flinched away from his touch and pain clouded his eyes, sharp and intense, before it disappeared, replaced by warm understanding. It wasn't him; it was her PTSD. Nothing like a natural disaster to bring back the memories of nearly losing everything near and dear to her heart.

"You're okay," he promised her.

But that wasn't enough. It wasn't right. "But twenty-thousand other people aren't," she said cooly. The Doctor's expression twisted again.

"Come on," he said, rather than indulge that avenue of thought, "let me clean this blood off." She didn't feel like being touched, but she still leaned forwards and let him gently clean off the blood coating her face. "How?" he asked after a few minutes of tender, methodical cleaning.

"A Sister's hand to the nose," she replied factually. "I've had worse," she added in an attempt at conversation, "at least I didn't die this time."

He was careful not to react. "Neither did I," he told her with a tiny smile. "That's always a plus."

She didn't hesitate to push the cloth away and throw her arms around him, bringing him into a tight embrace. He still didn't smell like himself, but rather of ash and sulphur, so she stopped breathing him in and simply held him. His arms wrapped tightly around her middle, clutching her to him like he were just as desperate for the contact.

"I was so scared," she said into his neck, where her head was soundly buried.

"So was I," he confessed quietly, the words just for her. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in despite the ash that clung to her like snowflakes in winter.

"If anything had happened to you-"

"But it didn't-"

"But if it did-"

"Hartley," he said, reluctantly pulled away, bringing his hands up to cup her face. "We're all fine. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you promise?" she whispered, feeling like a silly child as she did. But it didn't matter; in that moment she needed reassurance more than she needed her dignity.

He ducked down to catch her eyes, and when their stares met she saw his eyes were shining with sincerity. "I promise."

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded, pretending for one blissful moment that it was something he had the ability to control. That he'd never leave her. Ever.

She wanted to tell him how she felt, but found she couldn't say the words, couldn't even think the words. So she just pressed her forehead against her Doctor's chest, right between where his twin hearts beat, and pushed emotion through the contact again.

His grip on her tightened and he buried his face in her hair once more, soaking up the feeling neither were ready to put into words.

"I know," he whispered, but she wasn't totally sure he did.

"We interrupting?" Donna's voice asked, a note of levity to it that surprised her.

The Doctor squeezed her one final time before pulling away, and she was quick to dry what remained of her tears before turning to the others. Donna, along with Caecilius and his family, stood in the doorway, the soot and ash now missing from their faces.

"Come on," said the Doctor. "I think there's something you should see."

Pompeii was nothing more than a pit of shadowed rock and bubbling lava as they stood watch over its demise. Caecilius and his family stood and watched with tearful eyes. Hartley stood beside the Doctor, watching on with wracking guilt contrasted by a grim acceptance.

This was history. What had happened here today was what was always meant to have happened. That's what she would tell herself in years to come, late at night when the horrors of this day kept her awake. She would tell herself they made the right choice. And some days she believed it.

"It's never forgotten, Caecilius," the Doctor spoke after a long time of nothing but contemplative silence. "Oh, time will pass, men will move on, and stories will fade. But one day, Pompeii will be found again. In thousands of years. And everyone will remember you."

Donna moved forwards, edging closer to Evelina. "What about you, Evelina?" she asked gently. "Can you see anything?"

"The visions have gone," Evelina said honestly, voice still trembling with a grief for her lost people that maybe none except the Doctor could ever share.

"The explosion was so powerful it cracked open a rift in time, just for a second. That's what gave you the gift of prophecy. It echoed back into the Pyrovillian alternative," the Doctor explained quietly, a small smile on his face. "But not any more. You're free."

She looked like, in another life, that might have made her smile.

"But tell me. Who are you, Doctor?" asked Metella in a shaking voice. "With your words, and your temple containing such size within?"

The Doctor's expression was grave. "Oh, I was never here," he said mildly. "Don't tell anyone."

Caecilius stepped forwards, eyeing the destruction below with undeniable awe. "The great god Vulcan must be enraged," he said darkly, voice tinged with horror. "It's so volcanic. It's like some sort of...volcano," he said. Although that fact that Hartley was there for the birth of a brand new word would ordinarily make her happy, she felt nothing but pain for this beautiful family, who had lost everything and everyone all in one terrible day. "All those people..." Caecilius trailed off sadly.

The Doctor was the first to move, tightening his grip of Hartley's hand and beginning to lead her back inside the TARDIS. Donna followed, eyes sad as she left the small family behind, stepping inside their magic box, the doors creaking shut after them, sealing them off from Pompeii forever.

The Doctor squeezed her hand one more time before letting Hartley go, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he slowly circled the console, brow furrowed in thought.

"Thank you," Donna said, barely a whisper.

The Doctor looked up but didn't meet her eyes.

"Yeah," he said after a moment of weighty quiet. "You were right," he added suddenly, surprising them both, "sometimes I need someone."

He paused, considering as his eyes flickered over to Hartley, who was leant against the railing, watching him softly.

"And sometimes, you need someone too," he told her, meeting her eyes and something passionate and loving in his whisky eyes, "to remind you who you are…especially when I can't."

She smiled, eyes glittering, and the Doctor turned back to Donna with a more sincere grin.

"Welcome aboard," he said warmly.

"Yeah," Donna whispered, her stare wet with emotion, and the time rotor groaned as the Doctor did what he said he was going to do from the very start; and he took them far, far away.


A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Bit of a darker one, but I think that's pretty true to the episode itself. What did you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Up next is an original one to break things up a bit, and I think you'll be interested to know we're taking a short break from Hartley's POV in this next chapter...

See you there!

Coming up next: Truth and Honesty