To Have Faith

by ReakaDraws

If you were trapped in a fictional universe, how would you survive? Would everything be the same as ‘the show’? The same as ‘reality’? Would you really be able to walk around without a care in the world? Would you actually have fun? All you can do in that situation is have faith that you’ll make it through in one piece.

23. Chapter 23 : Taking a Stand

…smells like musty old pine…

Like my great-grandma's house…..

But there's yelling… why are people yelling..?

"First of all you drug us, then you kidnap us, and don't think I didn't feel your hands having a quick wander, you dirty old man!!" A woman yells—Rose?

I'm forgetting something….

"I won't be spoken to like this!" A quavering man's voice squawks,

What is it..? Where am I..?

"Then! You stuck me and Faith in a room full of zomb—"

Oh goodness!

With a jolt, I gasp in a large breath, sitting up— "Rose!" I yell—

…only to sag back on the couch with a groan, head pounding.

How many times have I passed out now??

Too many. Way too many times.

"'Bout time you woke up," that's the Doctor's voice.

I crack one eye open to glower up at him. "I feel horrible," I state morosely.

"You look horrible." He agrees with a nod, arms crossed and totally unsympathetic, "I thought I said to stay out of trouble."

"Yeah. I was actually trying this time." I grumble, sitting up to rub at my face.

It's just as I'm mumbling this, that Gwyneth bustles over to me with a mug of something. "Here miss, this should help with the headache."

I stare speculatively at the drink before eyeing her again. Thankfully one of my flatmates was Welsh, otherwise I'd be having a ton of trouble understanding her, and Mr. Sneed right now, even with the Tardis's help.

"It doesn't have willow bark in it, does it?" I finally ask, wondering if I'll be spending the remainder of this adventure debilitated in a restroom.

"No miss, Feverfew; it's a pain reliever. I would have used willow bark…" There's a knowing look in Gwyneth's eyes. "...but that would have made you ill, wouldn't it miss?"

I gulp, mouth dry as I nod slightly, taking the cup from her without calling her out on knowing things I haven't told anyone. Alex was the closest I got, but why would he need to know that I'm allergic to this universe's version of aspirin?

"Wait, should you drink that?" Rose asks, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, eyeing Gwyneth like she's trying to poison me, "They drugged and kidnapped us."

Ok. So yeah. The poisoning thing could totally happen if it was Sneed handing out the drinks.

Am I being too trusting? But at the same time I have the foreknowledge to back up that trust?

No. That's a pretty stupid excuse. Parallel universes and all that.

Meh. Gwyneth's forgiven.

I shrug, "Gwyneth was just doing her job. The old man is in the wrong, if anyone." —And to make a point I sip at my drink.

Mr. Sneed immediately protests, indignant, "I won't be spoken to like this! —Not by either of you!"

That starts Rose on a tirade, as she paces agitatedly around the room, "If your hands took a wander on Faith like you did me, you're gonna be getting a hell of a lot more than just words, mister!" She glances at me, eyes still full of fire— I shake my head, probably looking like a startled owl.

She nods decidedly and continues her pacing, "—Not only that, You stuck us in a room full of zombies! Just left Faith in the corner of the room like some forgotten doll! —And if that ain't enough, you swan off and leave us to die! So come on, talk!"

I blink.

I've…. Apparently missed some things.

When did this turn into an interrogation?

Wait, how long have I been out exactly?

I look over at the Doctor and he points at Rose with an amused little grin, like it's the funniest thing in the world to watch her chew someone out. I just raise my eyebrows at the room in general.

"It's not my fault! It's this house!" Sneed yelps as Gwyneth leaves the room.

I get up to follow her, not much caring for all the yelling. Not to mention the childish behavior of Mr. Sneed. Blaming the house after being accused of sexually harassing, and kidnapping two people?? Like seriously? What the heck is wrong with this guy??

Rolling my eyes, I mumble, "Don't blame others for your own actions." And I leave.

The Doctor snorts at my comment and I half grin, surprised he heard me over the yelling of the other two. Feeling a little sheepish now that I've been caught, I quickly make my escape.

In the kitchen, Gwyneth is preparing drinks for the others.

I silently enter, placing my cup in the sink as I start to wash it out; I just barely catch the surprised jolt she gives, out of the corner of my eye.

The feverfew is doing its job, as my headache is mostly gone by now; just like basically ever other substance I've come across in this universe so far, the drink's effect is strong and near immediate…

I'm blaming that on my body's lack of resistance to this world's chemical compositions, but like most of my speculations, I don't really have anyone to confirm or deny my thought process without saying more than I really want to.

"Really miss, you don't have to do that," Gwyneth says softy.

"Faith." I correct absently, continuing my self-appointed work, "Just Faith. And I don't mind. Thank you for the drink. I feel a lot better now."

"Um…miss F…miss Faith, you knew my name earlier… you called my name." She starts, glancing at me with anxious hope.

I nod setting the mug to the side and turn to lean my back on the edge of the countertop, having to resist the urge to jump up and sit on the perch. "I did. Sorry for that. It was rude of me."

"But that means—" Gwyneth takes a hopeful step forward before catching herself, turning back to her work. "Forgive me for being forward miss Faith, but might you have the sight too? Can you help me?" She asks, eyes pleading and desperate.

I bite my lip, "I'm sorry…" and Gwyneth visibly wilts. "My… er, 'sight' is a bit different from yours… it's like— reading a story. I'm not in it, and the story never changes…" Even when reality does.

"And you've come such a long way…" she murmurs, and I feel her gentle touch on my mind. There's also the feel of something else farther behind her.

The grasping, scraping claws of a thousand other hands.

I jerk slightly, blinking and unnerved. Gaze focusing on Gwyneth again. Her eyes stay distant for a second longer, before she's back in front of me, "...and you have such a long way to go. So many monsters to face. Poor lost Alice."

I'm not sure what to say to that. Alice in wonderland? I guess that makes sense, in a way, but where did she get that from? Then again, I am sort of like Alice right now. I've definitely thought about that enough times for her to read it in my head.

I can't really think on it more than that— Half my brain is busy trying to block out the hostile presences, while at the same time not touching Gwyneth's.

I don't know what could happen if I touch hers. What if I accidentally hurt her?

"You could have kept it, you know?" She says after a moment of silence.

"What?" I blink in confusion, barrier holding the clawed fingers at bay for the moment.

She nods at the tartan of my dress, "Your last name. You could have kept it. The last one doesn't matter so much. It's the first that holds power."

"Oh. No… I…" I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest, but she continues earnestly,

"Keep a small part of them… they were your world. It's in your head." She gives me a pitying look, "You're always thinking of them. You hold so much love for them…" Then she sighs, shaking her head. "You're a good girl. I don't think they would be angry with your choice to stay. And you'll see them in heaven; just like I will see my parents. We will be so blessed then." She finishes on that hope-filled note.

I nod absently, not meeting her eyes. I am not sure which part of her words I'm agreeing to.

The thought of heaven.

It's often been a comfort when it comes to lost loved ones. I just never thought to apply that to my close family. Not this early. I thought I'd have them all around for most of my life. Now, even if they were around, I could potentially outlive them by centuries.

She steps forward, squeezing my arm before picking up her tea tray.

I suck in a breath, a little rueful smile playing on my lips, "No." she turns back around, a question on her face, "That name doesn't fit very well, does it? 'Faith Baird.' It doesn't sound right. Honestly Faith-anything doesn't sound quite right. It's a name that's best on its own."

Maybe I'll use it if the Doctor and Rose aren't around, and I need a 'John Smith' name.

She returns my smile with a sad one of her own, "And yet, alone is the last thing you should be. You and the Doctor both."

I don't really know how to answer that, so I laugh it off, offering to help carry some of the drinks, but Gwyneth waves me off, telling me that I've only just recovered, and shouldn't do any work— Besides, it's her job, not mine. That's what she tells me anyway.

Basically, we both dropped the subject, like our conversation never happened.

As we walk, we pass by a room that looks almost like a chapel. It has a small altar and, as with the rest of the house, beautiful antique furniture. What's odd though, is that there's a well-dressed, balding man who is poking about inside, waving his hands like he's looking for strings.

I stop, leaving Gwyneth to her work, hovering at the threshold, "What are you doing?"

Internally, I wince. That came out with way more English accent then I meant. Apparently Rose and the Doctor are wearing off on me.

Have one English kid mock impersonate your American accent when you're little, and you never want to accidentally inflict that feeling on anyone else, ever again.

The man jumps, before looking over at me. "Oh. Nothing really, just… inspecting something. Pay it no mind, madam…" he pauses then approaches. "Do pardon my rudeness, but I do not believe we have been properly introduced. My name is Charles Dickens, pray, what might your name be?"

"Oh, um, my name's Faith." I hold out my hand for a handshake.

This seems to throw him for a second, though after a short pause, he does take my hand. "Oh…An American?" He asks, surprised, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he hesitates, "though, forgive me if this is rude: might I ask, is it 'just' Faith? No last name? A title for the lady, perhaps?"

I smile as I take back my hand, not thrown by his awkward motions at all, eyes crinkling with laughter that I refuse to let pass, in case I offend. "No, just Faith." After a second of thought I add, "I do have a last name, yes, but I don't like using it."

"Ah. Quite right." My company agrees, though only out of politeness, and with a mixed sort of expression on his face informs me that he definitely does not understand.

I wonder how many people will be thrown off with that. Maybe it'll become a thing, like 'Doctor who?' And 'It's bigger on the inside!'

"You know, I really enjoyed Great Expectations, and the Tale of Two Cities. Thank you for them." I say, changing the topic and throwing in a healthy dose of slightly empty praise. And really, how often do you get to tell classical writers what you think? Sure, they aren't my favorite books, but they were interesting. "My mom read them to me when I was younger. I haven't gotten to reading your other works yet, but I'm sure they're wonderful as well."

"Oh." He blinks, apparently taken off guard by my praise, or maybe the fact I'd read the books at all. "Well, thank you, madam. That is kind of you to say."

He clears his throat, looking around the room like he's not quite sure how to proceed, before stumbling on, "…And might I say, I am glad to see you awake and well...to be left in that room during such a dastardly trick! It was truly unsightly. —I am right in presuming that you are well?" He asks the last part while giving me a once over, like I might just keel over at any second.

With these stupid corsets, I guess it's not too uncommon.

"Oh yes," I nod with a smile, "I'm good now. Thank you."

"There you two are." The Doctor calls from behind me. Saving us from another awkward silence, and even more awkward conversation.

"Doctor!" I greet with a smile, which he flashes in return.

"—see you've met good ol' Charlie boy." He glances at the man adding, "Checking for strings?" In the same breath, though with no small amount of condescension.

"We were just chatting." I tell him, catching the Doctor's attention again, and taking it away from the mind-boggled writer.

He looks over at me, pushing off the doorframe, where he had been leaning, to join us, his hands clasped behind his back "Nice seeing you up and about; find out anything interesting?" looks over at me, pushing his off the doorframe, where he had been leaning, to join us, his hands clasped behind his back "Nice seeing you up and about, find out anything interesting?"

That stops me up short. Having to take that extra second to think.

Have I found out anything interesting?

Besides Gwyneth?

Actually, now that I think about it, I'd be completely lost without my—arguably shaky—foreknowledge right now.

"Well, no one's really explained it to me fully…"

Hint, hint; nudge, nudge.

"—but from what I know—" oops. Maybe that's too close to foreknowledge? "—well, figured out, the dead are walking and there're whispers in the pipes?"

I flail my arm around the room vaguely, like that will explain everything, and give him my best 'That's all I've got' face.

I'll just keep Gwyneth's foresight to myself, for now.

Contrary to what I expect— which is for him to look at me like I've just dribbled on my shirt— he smiles over at me with a nod, though it's a bit sarcastic. "Sounds like you've figured it all out."

I smile back, head tilting slightly in confusion before I shake my head, "Not really? …And isn't that your job?"

While we've been talking, Mr. Dickens—pfft.

OK, no. Charles Dickens— eh, too long.

Charles? —Maybe. Still sounds weird referring to the author in *any* manner.

That guy —has been searching around, and now he murmurs, "There must be some mechanism behind this fraud…" while bending over to examine the underside of a table.

The Doctor huffs an annoyed breath, "Oh, come on, Charles." I give him a reprimanding look and he backtracks slightly, pacing a step back like a caged animal with too much energy, before turning back and continuing, "—All right. I shouldn't have told you to shut up. I'm sorry." He apologizes, even though he doesn't sound very sorry at all.

"But you've got one of the best minds in the world. You saw those gas creatures." He gives me a prompting look, and, though confused— since technically, I've only seen the one ghost in the theater, I nod slowly.

"Don't tell me you believe in all this—this twisted folly, too, madam! Surely not!" Charles asks, askance as he whirls next me.

Apparently, that was not the right thing to do to make this situation better.

I blink at the sudden attention, before raising one finger and giving him a look, "I happen to believe in a lot of strange things."

"I cannot accept that—"

"And what does the human body do when it decomposes?" The Doctor prompts, interrupting Charles. "It breaks down and produces gas. Perfect home for these gas things. They can slip inside and use it as a vehicle, just like your driver and his coach."

"Stop it, Charles demands, turning away to lean against the table he was checking moments ago. "Can it be that I have the world entirely wrong?"

"Not wrong. There's just more to learn," the Doctor says.

"That's the beauty of it," I add, and the Doctor shoots me a grin.

"I've always railed against the fantasists," Charles murmurs before turning back to us. "Oh, I loved an illusion as much as the next man, reveled in them, but that's exactly what they were, illusions. The real world is something else. I dedicated myself to that. Injustices, the great social causes. I hoped that I was a force for good. Now you tell me that the real world is a realm of specters and jack-o'-lanterns."

"In which case, have I wasted my brief span here, Doctor? Has it all been for nothing?" Charles pleads, looking to the Doctor for answers.

"No, it's not for nothing," I pipe up, taking an adamant step forward. "You've lived to the best of your abilities, that's all any of us can strive for; just because you haven't learned all the secrets of the world doesn't mean you've wasted your time. It just means that there's more to life than any one person can see!" I spread my arms out for emphasis, "The world is bigger than you imagined! That's something to be happy about, not mourn!"

Charles turns back to me, intelligent eyes searching, "Even when the creatures I have only just learned of are such evil specters?"

I shake my head, chin up and eyes earnest, "There's bad, yes, but there's also good. The bad is just the bits in between." I take a breath and continue, eyes wandering as I try to place my thoughts. "If you focus on the bad, then you'll forget about the good, but the opposite is true too. We've had one bad moment in an otherwise good day. Don't let the bad spoil the good."

And maybe that's hypocritical after how I've been acting… but that's how I thought when I was back home, and that's how I want to think again.

"She's right," the Doctor agrees before taking my hand, tugging me to the door. "Now, we're needed elsewhere—" he glances back at me to see my eyebrows raised in curiosity at where I 'need' to be. "Let's go have a chat with Gwyneth. I've got some questions for her."

"Right," I agree as we head back down the hallway; after a moment I add, "You know, at least these things aren't anything worse, or something."

"What makes you say that?" The Doctor asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

I shrug, "I'm… sensitive or something? My vision gets static-y and I start getting a headache when there're… bad things around? Praying helps though." I start fiddling with the edge of my skirt, not meeting his eye. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. "You know what? Never mind. It's probably nothing. Just forget I said anything."

Not that this will really effect this universe. It's the other one that was filled with spiritual powers. Both bad and good. Maybe that's what's translating into my weird mind connection thing with the Tardis. That and the low mental shields thing everyone keeps mentioning.

Really gotta find a way to fix that.

There's the buzz of the sonic and I look up in dread to see the Doctor checking a reading before looking over at me speculatively.

No no no—

"Extra-synaptic engram and just a tad higher development in the brain than the average human, roughly equal brain activity in both right and left sides, and higher sensitivity." He rattles off.

I blink up at him. Feeling the muscles in my shoulders and jaw relax. He gives me a reassuring smile, "Means you're clever— for a human— and just slightly telepathic. Probably pick up stray signals. The sensitivity means you're more observant, but have a lower pain tolerance, and could be prone to over stimulation." He shrugs, "Overall, nothing much to worry about, but If you want, I can help teach you how to strengthen your mental shields later." He finishes by ruffling my hair, which, for once, I don't stop, too stunned by the fact that he hasn't noticed anything more than that.

"Right." I finally get out, as he steps away and returns to the task of searching for Gwyneth.

I take the moment to look at the bracelet River gave me. Or half-look at it, since my eyes don't really want to focus on it. Definitely a perception filter of some kind.

Is it really that strong, though?

Obviously, I keep forgetting about it. But does it make me read as more "normal" than I am?

Is that why I haven't been caught yet?

The Doctor can be an idiot sometimes, but he's still a smart idiot. He should have figured out more by now, surely.

Unless he has, and he just hasn't mentioned it yet.

That's definitely something I can see him doing.

The Doctor stops just outside the kitchen. I almost run into him, when he holds up a hand for me to stop and leans in towards the door. I can hear the murmur of voices within, but not clearly.

"Bad habit," I chide, moving in to listen with him, putting my thoughts to the side for later…like always.

"Hush, you," he murmurs, poking me playfully in the side— which immediately gets me to jump away from his tickle-y fingers with a halfhearted glare.

He wrinkles his nose at me.

I stick my tongue out at him.

He rolls his eyes at me and nods at the door,

I roll my eyes back, but turn my attention back to the voices on the other side: the voices of Gwyneth and Rose.

"—I shall be so blessed. They're waiting for me. Maybe your dad's up there waiting for you too, miss." Gwyneth's voice carries, continuing on from a subject that started before we arrived. Sounds similar to what we talked about earlier.

"Maybe..." Comes Rose's voice with a clear note of suspicion. "Er…who told you he was dead?" She asks, and there's a lengthy pause.

"I don't know… Must have been the Doctor or Faith." Gwyneth tries to hedge… the two of us in question looking at each other with raised eyebrows and equal looks of 'What? Not me.' on our faces. Though we drop back into investigation mode a second after that dual confirmation.

"My father died years back," Rose states.

My eyes soften in sympathy. Another stupid fact I forgot about. Facts that mean the whole world to someone else.

It could have been me saying those lines after any number of my own dad's deployments.

It could have been the words of any number of my friends too. We were just lucky…

It was one of those things no military-brat ever really talks about, or even thinks about. No one wants to consider that it could be their parent that doesn't make it home. I hadn't considered the consequences of my own dad's trips until he was retired and safe for good.

Or as safe as life ever is.

And now my parents really are gone. Both of them… but they're also alive.

In another universe, yeah, but alive…

She got—gets another version of her dad back too… not that it will make up for the one she lost, or the time she lost with him, but she'd get to see him. At least as long as I haven't screwed up anything too badly by that time.

Not that it's easy to change anything. It feels like I'm pulling at a thick rubber band whenever I try. It's possible to bend it, but it takes a lot of effort, and if you aren't careful, you'll be hit by the recoil.

I feel the Doctor's eyes on me and look up, but he turns away the second our eyes meet.

"But you've been thinking about him lately, more than ever." Gwyneth says, bringing my attention back to her, I peek through a crack in the wooden door, just as Gwyneth glances our direction for half a second— does she know we're here??

The whispers abruptly cut off my train of thought. All through the conversation they've been growing. Gnawing.

Now they're too loud to ignore.

They run like a chill up my spine. Whispering. Clawing. Scratching. Knocking. Looking for any cracks to pry at. Boney, emaciated hands running over my defenses.

—but what really scares me is what's behind the hands, the place they're coming from; a black oozing crack.

Dark and empty.

Howling in the complete lack of sound or substance. Screams that can't be heard.

Familiar—

I don't know what it is. I shouldn't know what it is. I don't remember it. I don't want to remember it.

Whispering in my ears—In my mind— I clamp down on my barriers and add a prayer for protection on top of that, whatever good that does in a universe based on science rather than religion.

"Faith." Someone's holding my hand. Squeezing it tight. I suck in a deep breath, both the whispers and the visual static clear, and I blink back into focus —face to face with a frowning Doctor, "Faith, are you alright?"

I nod, still a little spooked, "Yeah. I'm fine." I answer in the same near whisper as he just used, pulling my hand out of his, and taking a step back.

"No. You're not." He grabs my hand again, and I feel a definitive poke at my mental walls, "You're scared," he blinks, "Your shields are rubbish. How'd you manage that?"

"And you don't think that's rude?" I raise my eyebrows, feeling overly exposed.

"Well I didn't mean to!" He says with a roll of his eyes, "I might be a touch telepath, but I shouldn't be able to feel your feelings this clearly without touching your temples. That's only supposed to work with kids who haven't developed barriers yet!"

"So you're calling me a kid." I ask in the same deadpan tone as I did the last question.

"No— I mean, yes underdeveloped but— you know what I mean," he says flusteredly.

I stare at him with a blank, unamused stare, watching him squirm, before a genuine question comes to mind, "Actually, how come you didn't notice sooner? This isn't the first time we've held hands or anything."

He blinks like he's only just remembering something. "I did notice earlier—it just slipped my mind is all. It's probably connected to what we were talking about earlier. Why didn't you bring any of this up before now?"

I shrug, "You didn't ask, and it didn't come up in conversation?"

"It never came—" he sighs in exasperation, "Never mind for now; hush and let me listen."

"Fine, fine."

"—No, no servants where I'm from." Rose says, a shrug in her voice.

I blink. They've changed topics.

…oops?

"And you've come such a long way…" Gwyneth's voice has that far away note from earlier. "…you and Faith both."

"What makes you think so?" Rose asks, sounding a bit spooked.

"You're from London… I've seen London in drawings, but never like that…. All those people rushing about half-naked, for shame. And the noise, and the metal boxes racing past, and the birds in the sky, no, they're metal as well. Metal birds with people in them. People are flying. And you, you've flown so far. Further than anyone…" Gwyneth trails off, "...no, Faith has flown even farther. The things you've both seen. The darkness, the monsters. So many monsters. The big bad wolf." Gwyneth gasps in a large breath, whispering, "It will swallow one of you whole—" before she collapses against the pantry shelving, breathing hard.

I rush through the door, ignoring everything but the girl half-collapsed and breathlessly asking forgiveness "—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, miss."

"It's—it's all right." Rose stutters, shaken as she takes a step back, staring at Gwyneth and me in confusion.

I steady Gwyneth by her arms, looking in her fearful eyes, "Gwyneth? Gwyneth. It's alright. It's ok. The monsters aren't here." I soothe, hugging her tightly before pulling back. "You're ok. You're not in trouble."

"I've seen in your head, Miss." She whispers, still breathing hard, "How can you bear it? The demons. The death—"

"I have faith." I tell her resolutely, eyes focused on her large grey eyes. Trying to will away her fear, "We fight against the dark… Try to stop the deaths," I murmur, giving her arms a squeeze as I continue to stabilize her.

"But you can't save everyone." She shakes her head, pulling back so that my hands slide to hers, our eyes still locked. Her's are scared and teary, mine calm and understanding, "There can't be light without darkness."

"And the light is all the brighter for knowing what the dark looks like." I tell her with conviction. "We have to be the salt and the light, right?" I crack a smile, and she returns it with a shaky one of her own.

"What are you two on about?" Rose cuts in, perplexed. Both Gwyneth and I look over, remembering that we have an audience.

"I'm sorry Miss Rose, I can't help it." Gwyneth tries to explain, "Ever since I was a little girl, my mam said I had the sight. She told me to hide it."

"But it's getting stronger, more powerful, is that right?" The Doctor's voice calls, all three of us girls jump, my hands flying to my heart—I totally forgot he was still there!— we all whip around to see him standing nonchalantly in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

Gwyneth glances at Rose and me, before looking down, "All the time, sir. Every night, voices in my head."

"You grew up on top of the rift. You're part of it. You're the key." He tells her gently, trying not to overwhelm her.

"I've tried to make sense of it, sir." She tells him, sounding lost, "Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts."

Silently, I reach over and give her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go again, earning a grateful smile from her.

"Well, that should help." The Doctor nods, more to himself than anyone else, "You can show us what to do."

"What to do where, sir?" Gwyneth asks hesitantly.

I get a bad feeling in my chest. I remember what's supposed to happen here.

"We're going to have a seance." The Doctor announces with an excited grin, rubbing his hands together with a clap.

I shake my head, "No, thank you."

His smile drops, "What d' ya mean, 'No, thank you'?"

"I mean; I don't want to do it." I reiterate.

"Well, we need to do it, so we are." He states, turning on his heel and rushing back off down the hallway.

I dash after him, hand using the doorframe to swing and pivot in the direction he's gone. "I'm not. No," I call after him. Swallowing nervously as he freezes in place. "You guys can do what you like, but I'm not joining in." I repeat, letting go of the wooden doorway so I can cross my arms, feeling my gut clench— but I ignore it in favor of standing up for myself.

I may have lost some of myself over the last couple months, but this is not one of those parts.

He slowly walks back to me, each creaking footstep seeming to highlight how loud my heart is beating.

I lift my chin and meet his eyes.

"And why not?" The affronted frown on the Doctor's face, the way he crosses his arms, both make my heart drop a little…but I suck in a steadying breath and hold my ground.

"Because it goes against my beliefs." I state, jaw set, while keeping my eyes on his grey-blue ones. Hiding the fact that his disappointment—anyone's disappointment— affects me.

"Your beliefs??" He scoffs, turning his back on me to pace.

"Yes, my beliefs!" I state. Not moving. I'm not chasing after him.

He whirls back a second later, going for a different approach as he uncrosses his arms, gesturing with his hands as he talks, "Why do you have to be difficult now? Faith, this is another species! They could be in trouble! —Need our help!" He pleads.

Still frowning, I take a step forward, not cowed. "And I can feel them around me and it scares me!" —Especially after the Veshta Narada— "I'm not giving them permission to get in my head!"

"That's not what we're doing!" He argues, frustration coming off him in waves, "We're just forming a psychic link. Letting them talk."

"C'mon Faith," Rose pipes up placatingly, "let's just try. I don't see what the fuss is about."

I huff out a breath, copying the Doctor by pacing, "A séance requires you to empty your mind and soul, yes? To open yourself up to whatever's out there: and it's not always good." I debate for half a second before I go on, not waiting for them to answer my previous question, "I know what it's like to let something dark in, and I never want to go through that again." The Doctor opens his mouth again, but once again I cut him off, "—And even if that's not the case, and I put on your science hat, you just said that I have naturally weak mental shields. So, no. I'm not joining in on your séance." I turn on my heel, but Rose grabs my shoulder.

"Faith…" Rose tries, expression showing that she still doesn't get my position.

The Doctor cuts over Rose, "Faith, c'mon, be reasonable. We need you— "

"No, you don't." I turn to him with a half-smile, shaking my head with a breathy laugh. "You really don't. This isn't something I'm willing to compromise on, Doctor."

"Well then, maybe I should just send you home then," The Doctor sniffs morosely, though there's hurt under the threat. "If you can't handle it."

That comes like a punch to the gut.

Regardless, I nod, throat feeling tight all of a sudden. "OK. If that's what you want."

I look between Rose and the Doctor, both who have varying expressions of hurt, shock and anger. "I'm going outside. Excuse me."

I run away. Completely ignoring Rose's yells of, "You can't just say something like that! Faith! Come back!" that echo after me.

I rush through the house in a blur, accidentally slamming the front door on my way out.

Walking down the night street at my usual brisk pace, no destination in mind, I just try to clear my head and get my thoughts in order.

Not even the snow can cheer me up right now. It holds no joy. Only dirty, cold, wet slush, as I replay the conversation in my head again and again. Things I could have said differently, what I could have done better.

The Doctor threatened to send me home.

As if there's a home to go to!

I can make Home Base work… I can get an actual job. I'll do better than I did the first time around. That was an absolute disaster.

Not that I was really in the right headspace to come up with some long-term plan. 'Ignore the problem and it will go away' or something.

That definitely did not work.

Wait, doesn't he threaten Rose too? She calls him out because of the dead bodies.

I don't mind that part so much, though only as a temporary fix, and only if the Gelth were actually as nice as they were pretending to be.

I mean, the souls of those people are already gone by this point, so that doesn't bother me as much? It would be really disconcerting to see someone you knew walking around, though. So, I don't like that part. But if it was just temporary until the Doctor could get them to another planet with different bodies, then that wouldn't be too bad?

Still, just because he doesn't throw Rose out, that doesn't mean he won't do it to me.

Thinking on this and a million other topics, I slowly come up with a plan, then a backup plan, then let my mind wander where it likes, finding joy and beauty in my surroundings once again, as I wander.

After walking a little farther, I twirl around; it's not long after I start retracing my footsteps back to the house, that I walk down an abandoned street—

Something slams into me.

Half a second later my feet are dangling off the ground. Hard brick digs into my back. I can't breathe. There's a hand holding my neck. My head's aching from the impact.

My vision swirls in bursts of stars. I blink rapidly to clear it. My fingers claw at the hand. Trying to get more air in my lungs as I try to get a good look at the person— the hand around my neck goes cold and rigid as my vision clears. Stone. A snarling, angry face. An angel??

There's a glowing light in their hand. They stole my phone. Why haven't they killed me? They obviously had the time.

I squeeze my eyes shut and the hand becomes flesh again, "I can't breathe!" I wheeze out.

The hand eases ever so slightly, yet keeps me pinned to the wall. The phone's synthesized voice starts speaking "What have you done to me? What have you done to me? What have you done? What did you do? It burns. It hurts. I'm dying. What did you do??"

I crack one eye open, breath still coming in short rasps. Recognizing the stone face.

But?

They regenerated??

"Al..Alex..?" I close my eyes with a wince and the hand tightens for half a second before easing off.

The monotone of the phone echoing over my harsh breathing, "Don't call me that name. I don't have a name. This happened after you called me that name. I trusted you and you did this to me. I can't even control the jumps now."

"That's!" I gulp, using my grip on his hand to ease the pressure. This is Alex right after they sent me to the past. "Alex! Put me down! I can't breathe…!!" Again, like with Gwyneth's name, there's a slight pull.

Alex releases me and I fall to the ground, using the wall for support as I'm wracked with coughs.

Straightening up once I've got my breath back, I glance over, only Alex is crouched over, clutching at their chest in pain. One hand is still grasping my phone.

The words 'it hurts' stands out eerily on the glowing screen in contrast to the otherwise darkly lit street.

I take in a deep breath, or as deep a breath as I can manage with my corset, having to clear my throat again, before I can explain, closing my eyes to hear someone else's ragged breaths and the sound of footsteps in snow. Back and forth as they pace agitatedly.

——————

"You should go apologize."

The Doctor looks up, rolling his eyes at the maid hovering by the door, "Yeah, thanks for the advice." He tells her, voice dripping sarcasm.

"No, I'm serious," Gwyneth says, stepping closer, "Faith values her beliefs above all else," she pauses, looking off in the direction Faith ran off in, a far away look crossing her homely face, "That's why she chose her name."

He had been letting his eyes wander around the room, not fully listening.

He has no intention of apologizing.

She's the one being a stupid little ape, not him. So why does he have to apologize?

Now the Doctor focuses in on her, "What?"

"Oh goodness," Gwyneth says, eyes wide as she covers her mouth with her hands, "She hasn't told you yet, has she?" she starts for the door wringing her hands, "I'm sorry sir. I shouldn't have said."

Getting up from his seat by the fire, he grabs her by the shoulder, "No. Tell me," he stops her retreat as he meets her worried eyes with all seriousness.

It takes a moment, Gwyneth searching his eyes, before finding whatever she was looking for and letting out a soft sigh, "Well, I don't know the circumstances, but she chose her name, it's not her original… I can't see what that name is. It's hidden," she glances up at him through her lashes, like a child confessing to their teacher, "Like yours, sir."

The Doctor's hearts sink, why would she..? If her name is a lie, then what else has she lied about? Why would she do something like that??

A thousand other possibilities filter through his mind, is she an agent for someone?

An enemy?

Spy?

Puppet?

Is someone chasing her?

Is she running from something or someone?

Did she do something?

How much of what she's said is fake?

And yet, despite the lie, and his new suspicions… a spark of hope enters his hearts as well. One he doesn't want.

One he's not willing to acknowledge because it will hurt too much if it's not true.

There is absolutely no way it would be that.

He'd be able to feel it in his head if she was, right?

He'd even checked, human.

Even if her brain is slightly more advanced, she is definitely and certifiably human.

Unless….

—————

Eyes closed, I take a deep breath of cold air, leaning against the brick wall as I explain what future Alex explained to me, to younger Alex.

My gosh! Time travel is confusing.

"So, from what I understand, I accidentally named you. And that's causing some sort of reaction on the genetic lock," I tell him, absently rubbing at my neck, "It's…sort of reversing you back to before the lock? But that's also causing a regeneration…" I trail off, not sure what else to say.

"Can you reverse it?" comes the monotone voice from my phone.

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, "You want to stay like that? Where you can't be seen or talk?"

The pacing stops briefly, but soon starts up again, "I don't know. I've been like this for thousands of years. I can barely remember what it's like anymore. I'm scared. I got turned into this when I was just a kid— a teenager. Barely 200."

"What—" I was going to ask what happened, but I get cut off.

Someone curses— theres a feeling of wrongness, like I should run away— then someone yanks me to the side— I blink my eyes open, startled. There's a man's back in front of me. An American accent ordering, "Don't blink— it can't move if someone's looking at it!" the tall man starts backing up. Forcing me with him.

"Wait! No, you've got it wrong! That's my friend! —an' he's got my phone!" I explain, trying to push past the man and back to the frozen angel.

"Friend?? Wait—phone?!", the man exclaims as I stumble past him in his momentary shock, "Oh god, Fae-girl is that you?!"

Fae? Wait, what? Like fairy— more like faerie— I twirl around, blinking up at a familiar but unfamiliar face, "Wait? Jack?"

Just behind me comes the sound of the phone—since neither Jack nor I was looking at them, "It's happening again. I have to go."

"No!" I whip back around. I wanted to talk with them some more! But by the time I turn around, all there is to mark where Alex was is trampled snow and a fading gold glow. My phone lies abandoned in the snow.

With a sigh, I stride over and scoop up my phone, wiping off the melting snow from the screen.

"Faith, that was a Weeping Angel. What the hell were you doing with that thing," Jack says behind me.

I turn, eyebrows raised in a nonplussed stare, "Their name is Alex. And they're my friend," I tell him, keeping my distance.

Eyes wide Jack looks between me and the spot Alex just was, "Your friend?" he says, gesturing to the spot, "That was Alex? The friend you told me about?" he clarifies and I nod slowly. Assuming that's the only Alex future me would know about.

He nods back slowly, seeming to take that in, "Well, that's… actually that doesn't even make it into the top ten weirdest things I've heard," then a wide smile spreads across his face, shaking his head in wonder, "I still can't believe it's you!" he strides over to me and casually slings his arm over my shoulder, causing me to stiffen slightly… and his smile drops, "—are Rose and the Doctor with you? It's the 1800's so they have to be, right?"

"Um, yeah… they are. But…" I trail off.

His smile drops even more, "But…?"

I take in a deep breath, "This is actually the first time I've met you," I start, flustered as his smile drops completely, "—well, young you— past you?— ahh, why is time travel so confusing? I've met you before, kinda?? It's a really long ways off," I finish lamely, and it seems like my panicky rambling has somehow managed to put the smile back on his face, even if it is a little sadder then before.

"Jeez, what's with that, ya little faerie!" he ruffles my hair and I give an indignant shriek, pushing his hand away with a pout as he laughs, "You're just as cute as ever! But damn, you're young! You'll make me feel a little guilty."

There's that thing about my age again… "Guilty about what??" I ask, laughing it off.

He shrugs, "I wouldn't want to hit on someone underage. Gotta watch it, you know?"

"Hey! I'm 20!", I yelp in mock offense.

He raises his hands in surrender, playing along, "You just keep telling yourself that Fae-girl. I say you look 16 to me."

Regardless of what he just said he sticks his hand out with what he probably thinks is a suave grin, "Since we haven't been properly introduced; Captain Jack Harkness."

I grin, "Faith, nice to meet you."

He takes my extended hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifts it and gives my hand a kiss.

I can't help it; I laugh.

"Hey! What's that for?", he asks, letting go and giving me puppy-dog eyes.

"That! It's so cliché! Like some movie playboy!" I cover my mouth, still giggling, "I never thought someone would actually try using that on me— let alone you!"

"Hey, hey! Early twenty-first century—cliché is good, right?" he asks, shoving his hands in his trench coat with a grin.

"When is cliché ever good?" I shoot back still all smiles.

He tilts his head to the side, "Fair point— though there was this time in the thirty-second century—never mind that though. What's a pretty little faerie like you doing wandering way out here in the cold all alone?"

I puff out a breath, "it's Faith, not Faerie… and I was out here because, well, I needed to get away from everything for a little bit," I tell him starting to slowly walk back in the direction I was going before Alex slammed me into a side street for our 'talk.'

And yes, a side street. Because now that it's all over, this is definitely a different street to the one I started out on.

"Psh, you'll always be Fae to me," Jack scoffs, walking along with me, "So what? Ol' big ears and you have a fight?"

"Something like that," I shrug, "I didn't want to join his séance, and he threatened to send me home."

"Aaand? C'mon, Faith. I know there's more."

My eyes start to tear up but I'm able to blink them away, "No. Not really. I just said ok and left. It's his choice if he wants me along."

He heaves a breath, looking up at the now clear night sky, "Oof."

The clouds from earlier nowhere to be seen; leaving the stars to shine bright. I laugh. Finding that easier than crying, "Yeah. 'Oof' is right."

We walk on, only the sound of crunching snow, "Um… if he does send me back… and, and if you rem-remember this—or, well, me. Will you come and visit me in Leadworth? It's this town. There's this really big, kinda dilapidated house on the edge of it. That's where I want to go back to if this doesn't work out."

Maybe this way I won't be completely isolated? Have someone to check in with, plus then Jack doesn't have to be so lonely either.

Jack grabs my hand, "It would be my pleasure, Faith," without letting go, he gives my hand a little squeeze, swinging it between us.

I don't answer immediately. Thinking things over. It's a good minute before I remember to reply, "Thank you."

"Nah. No need for thanks," I laugh at that, but what he says next makes it die in my throat, "So, how do you know me if we've never really met before this? Besides the other 'sort of' meeting."

I glance up at him, free hand starting to fidget, "That's um— I mean, future me hasn't explained it?"

He swings our hands again with a laugh, "Hey! You know the rules. I can't tell you your personal future."

I twist out of his grip walking backwards, "You know, that's sort of an answer in and of itself," I grin and he barks out another laugh.

"No, you haven't said anything," Jack clarifies, sobering up, "Sure, some slips here and there gave me a few ideas, but nothing solid," he shrugs.

I take a deep breath of frosty air, puffing it out in a long stream of white vapor. Watching at it spirals up and disappears into the gloom of the night sky, "You know, it's funny. I explained all of this mess to Alex a couple days ago…" I let out a halfhearted laugh, "It still doesn't make it any easier to wrap my head around…."

After a moment of silence, Jack prompts me to continue with a nod, "Go on."

"Hmm… how do I put this..? I guess blunt is the best way to go..? It's still super weird… makes me feel like some kinda stalker…" I mumble to myself. Arms crossed, before making up my mind and turning back to Jack, "Ok! So— I'm from a world where aliens are fake, the people who look like you are actors, and the Doctor and his life are just a story," I put it all in one breath, as fast as I can get the words out without stuttering.

Nervously waiting for a reply, I keep my mouth shut and try to control my treacherous hands. A thousand different words fighting their way to my tongue; mostly along the lines of 'I'm telling the truth!' And 'I swear I'm not crazy!' None of it would make what I just said any more believable… which is why I've kept my mouth shut, up till now.

But, well, he did ask.

Eventually he answers, and thankfully I took a long enough walk that it allows for the extra silence, "So let me get this straight," he starts in a deadpan drawl. "You're from some alternate universe where aliens don't exist…but you know me, and who knows who else from this universe from, what? A story?"

I fidget under his disbelief, nodding hesitantly, "I, yeah. I think so." I stutter.

"And you're not joking?"

"No. I'm not."

He lets out an exasperated sigh, "And you're sure you aren't time sensitive or something? I don't know, prophetic? It's not just your brain translating the information because you can't handle it?"

Oh right. He was a time agent. I guess he'd have some experience with that kind of stuff.

I shake my head, "No. And even if it is like that, I can only see one outcome—and that's one where I don't even exist. So since I'm in the middle now, everything's playing out just a bit differently."

"Like what?" Jack asks, interest piqued.

I shrug, "I don't know, little things? Some bigger ones too. People who would've died if I didn't help, conversations, actions. Just… stuff." I shrug again, unable to think what else to do.

"So you—" he cuts himself off and I look up at him. Seeing the desperation in his eyes as he tries to organize his thoughts, "So you know what happened to me? Why they left? Will I— will I ever be able to die?" his voice breaks on the last question.

Biting my lip, I look down at the muddy slush at my feet, unable to meet his eyes, "I know a little. Just what I can remember, so it's foggy at best. I only watched it once, so it's not like I've got the whole thing memorized. Plus, they skip over a lot…"

Jack nods, "So like a movie," he says.

I tilt my head, to the side in a so-so gesture, "Ehhh, more like a TV show."

"That's what it was, wasn't it? A TV show where all our lives were nothing but some made up story," the words have a bitter edge and I bite my lip again, unsure what to say.

"Well…" I start, but Jack cuts me off, ruffling my hair.

"Don't sweat it, Fae-girl. Your face says it pretty clearly," he gives me a halfhearted grin, "For someone so good at hiding things, you really suck at lying."

I laugh, mildly disconcerted, and change the subject, "So how long have you been here?"

He looks around blankly, blowing out some air, "I don't know, nine? --ten years now? Died three times, during that." He shrugs, like it's not important.

"I'm sorry," I look away, feeling guilty for something that hasn't even happened for me.

Jack apparently thinks that too, "Don't be!" he laughs, "Hey, don't go making that face. I got to see you here didn't I?"

That doesn't make the frown on my face disappear, "Still. That just means I wasn't able to stop it."

He doesn't say anything to that. Changing the subject instead, "Do you know why he abandoned me there? Or when I'll see them again?"

I nod, still unsure how he'll take the information, "Um, 2006? 2007? Somewhere around then, I think." I glance up at him, only to see the resignation, "And.. as for the Doctor, he left because you became a fixed point; it makes you feel… wrong to him."

Wait, is that what I'm feeling? It's faint, but the wrongness is still there…

Brushing off that thought, I take a breath and continue, "Sorta like you wanna get away, even though you know there isn't anything bad around. Instincts versus mind, I think?" glancing up again I see him staring at me intensely, like he's trying to put together different pieces in a puzzle.

I laugh nervously, one hand going to the back of my neck, "Or something like that."

Nodding, he shoots a grim smile in my direction, murmuring, "Alright then…" under his breath.

After that he shakes off the sombre mood, "But man, I thought I'd never see you again!" or, sort of shakes it off, "—I mean, it sucks that you got in a fight with the Doctor an' all, aaand the fact that it's the wrong order, but still, here you are!"

More like he hits me with a guilt-punch while acting all up-beat.

I let off a polite laugh, "Well, I'm glad I could help?"

"Ha! And there's the famous laugh. I've actually kinda've missed that!"

This time I snort for real, not a full on laugh yet, but about as close as I'll get with most acquaintances, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Jack drawls, sounding like a know-it-all kid, while wagging his finger in the air, "Your 'I don't know how to react to this so I'll just laugh and hope everything turns out fine' laugh," Jack takes his wagging finger and moves to hold his chin sagely in his hand. "Now that I think about it, it's been awhile since I've heard that— well sort of. You still use it on me if I make too obvious of a pass on you."

I laugh again out of habit, "You know, it's kinda disconcerting to have someone pin down my actions like that," I mock pout, pulling my hands behind my back. Starting to really feel the chill through my dress and boots.

"I wish I'd stop meeting people in the wrong order," I murmur into the night air. Quiet, but not quiet enough, apparently, since Jack answers

"You and I both. Unfortunately, that's just time travel for you. Sometimes you meet in the right order," he shrugs. "Sometimes you don't. —Not that I don't enjoy your company…"

"You'd just rather have 'your Faith', not me," I state a tad bitterly, remembering the tenth Doctor and River, "Is it normal to be jealous of my older, wiser self?" I laughingly ask, though only half joking.

He smiles good naturedly, slapping my on the back— which causes me to stumble a step forward in the snow.

"Don't rush it, kid," he shrugs with a smile, when I look up at him like a startled deer. "You'll be there before you know it, so just enjoy the ride. Sure, I want to see my Fae-girl, but you'll be her before too long."

"That's true," I agree, my heart feeling a bit lighter, "And you only get one chance to meet me this young!"

"What? I don't get to meet any younger versions of you?"

"Nope!" I smile manically, skipping forward, only to stop abruptly. "Oh yeah! Before I forget; do I change a lot in the future? Everyone I've met in the wrong order talks about how young I look, but they don't really notice at first? What's with that?" We're getting close to the house, so hopefully I'll get a proper answer before we get there.

"Well, it's not so much that you look younger, you look about the same, honestly. It's your eyes."

"Oh." What else can I really say to that?

But wait, how does that even work? We're supposed to meet Jack in the Empty Child episode, and obviously Rose is normal, and they travel for what? Two years or something? If that's the case, how come my eyes look older? That doesn't make any—ouch!!

Something hits the top of my head and I look up, clutching at my skull, did he seriously just karate chop my head!? Meanie!! What happened to chivalry!!

"Hey! Don't give me that look. You were overthinking things!"

"Was not, you meanie!" Ah. And there's the house.

"Meanie? Who says that?" Jack laughs.

"I say that!" and there goes the house.

"You sure you're not 6?"

"I thought you said I look 16?" Bye house.

"Yeah, well your 'meanie' comment just lowered my estimation."

I roll my eyes at that, going quiet as I mull over something I haven't been able to answer myself.

"Hey, something on your mind, faerie-girl?" Jack asks, breaking me out of my contemplations.

"Oh. Um, well, if you know someone is going to die, but they want to do something, and they want you to respect their decisions," I trail off, fingers starting to dance as I try to find words for what I want to say, "—and it's sorta important for the future… is it right or wrong to try to stop the thing that will kill them?" I finish, looking up at Jack with hesitant eyes.

I don't want Gwyneth to die, or really anyone. But I also don't want to play God and choose who lives and who dies. And the rift is important in the future, and that rift is only created because Gwyneth opens it.

How am I supposed to manage free will in all of this?

Do I use my free will to potentially change this point, or do I let Gwyneth use her free will to make a decision that will kill her?

Potentially, she could be resuscitated when her heart stops, but I don't know how to do something like that, and even if I did, the zombies would keep me away too long for it to work.

From what little I do know, I'd only have a few minutes at most to bring her back after her heart stops, and those few minutes will either be spent: A) locked in a cage with the Doctor and Rose, B) dead from a snapped neck thanks to zombies, or C) upstairs with a panicky Charles Dickens.

Welp. Isn't this going to be a fun evening?!

"Well," Jack, who's been silently frowning, in thought, finally speaks up, "It depends on the situation… but if it's the one I'm thinking of, then I'm not sure there's much you can do," he pauses, looking apologetic, "Sorry, I really shouldn't say anything. Rose and your future self already told me how it turns out."

I visibly wilt at that, heaving a sigh, "So there's really nothing I can do..?"

Jack shrugs, "Hey, I didn't say that. Just—what's that saying you use? 'Do your best and forget the rest.'?"

I snort, despite myself, "That's something my mom and dad says. It just sounds weird coming from you."

He gives me his suave grin, tapping me on the forehead, "Hey, weird is good, right?"

I shoo his hand away, giving him a hesitant smirk, "Depending." looking around, I notice where we are and decide I should probably cut this off here… "Woops. We passed the house like two blocks ago," I state. Pointing back behind me.

Oh yes. Faith. Such subtleties. It's not like you couldn't have mentioned it, like, a few minutes ago and saved the both of us that downer of a conversation.

"Just couldn't keep your eyes off me, huh?" Jack says in mock exasperation, "I mean, I know I'm a pretty face, but.."

"Oh, shut up!" I laugh, feeling my face heat up even through the cold, "I noticed when we passed it— it just would've been rude to interrupt! We were in the middle of a conversation when it happened!"

"Sure, sure," He nods indulgently, "You just keep telling yourself that, beautiful."

I'm… gonna ignore the 'beautiful' part of that.

I turn to him, hesitating…What should I do? A wave doesn't seem right… a handshake is way too formal…

After a second of debate, I give him a quick side hug letting go before he can react, "It was nice meeting you, Jack." I smile awkwardly, taking a step away, before saying as sincerely and heartfelt as I can, "Please try not to get hurt. I'd feel really really bad. I already feel horrible that you've already died a bunch of times. I don't want you to keep going through that."

Jack smiles, but this time it feels a lot more genuine than the others, "You don't have to worry about me. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

I huff giving him my best stern 'You'd better not do anything stupid' glare, "Well I do care! So, take care of yourself and don't get into trouble!"

"Oh, c'mere you," and before I know what's happening, he has me in his arms spinning me high off the ground, cumbersome dress and all. I let out a shriek of surprise before starting to laugh, "It's been great seeing you, Faith. We'll have to meet up again soon— well, sometime, anyway."

Then he takes my cheeks in his hand, smooshing them as he grins down at my disgruntled face, and kisses my forehead.

Once he lets me go, I step away, polite 'I don't get what's going on' laugh coming forth out of habit, as I lightly touch the spot he kissed, "Um. Riiight. Ok, then. Uh. Bye??"

And with that, I run away for the second time today.

—————

The group back at the morgue house had spent the last half hour milling about, and moving furniture as Gwyneth instructed.

Still, the tension in the air was palpable. Had been since Faith ran off.

Charles was milling about, wanting nothing to do with 'this tom-foolery' yet he was too curious to actually leave and forget about these strange people he had met.

Mr. Sneed was muttering to himself, agitatedly pacing and fidgeting, caught between hope that someone would help him with his problems, and anger that two of those people were disrespectful girls who didn't know their place.

Rose sighs from her place on the couch, as she waits for something to happen.

The table and chairs had been rearranged, mainly because they needed more chairs than the original situation allowed, and besides that, the Doctor had gone off to pout after Faith left.

Honestly, what was the relationship between those two? Last adventure, Faith was mad at the Doctor and this time the Doctor is mad at Faith. And between all that they smile and laugh and flirt— though Rose is pretty sure Faith doesn't realize that's what she's doing.

She'd seen Faith in low twin-tails the other day skipping down the Tardis hallways while singing something, and would have guessed she was around 14 if she wasn't already aware of Faith's age. Yet Rose knows she can act serious too. It was honestly scary how easy the other girl made it to underestimate her.

And Rose still hasn't gotten an answer on what the Doctor actually did to get Faith mad in the first place.

Gwyneth had gone to talk with the Doctor, and shortly after that he finally got everything and everyone together, working with manic enthusiasm and— Rose is guessing, false— cheer.

Now they were all holding hands— well, all except Charles Dickens, and Faith—who still hasn't come back. Rose was starting to get worried for the girl. What if, she doesn't know, what if Jack the Ripper got her or something?

"I can't take part in this," Charles sighs out, finally reaching his limit as he makes for the door.

"Humbug?" the Doctor goads, stopping the man in his tracks, "Come on, open mind."

"This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I strive to unmask. Seances? Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This girl knows nothing!"

The Doctor tries urging Charles again, "C'mon, we might need you," from how his face fell, he was thinking about how he said the same thing to Faith, only for her to reject the idea.

Charles, however doesn't do what Faith did. Instead, grumbling, the writer reluctantly sits with them at the table, joining hands with the rest.

Gwyneth was just opening her mouth to speak when the front door creaks open, then closes, apparently not well— because there's the thump of someone fumbling with it twice more before there's a click and it actually closes properly.

Everyone's attention is taken, and they all stare at the door leading to the entryway, momentarily forgetting that they had an impending seance to start.

A second later, Faith's head peeks around the corner, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the cold, though when she sees the group staring with their hands clasped together, she grimaces at them. "Oof. Sorry. You're not done yet? I was hoping you'd be done with this part already."

"Why not join in since you're here?" the Doctor taunts.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Faith responds, looking uncomfortable. The tension in the room spiking as the two stare the other down.

For a second, it looks like Faith is going to retreat again. Maybe head back to the Tardis to await the consequence of her choice, but then she changes her mind, moving out of the doorway to lean against the wall near where Charles had been loitering before.

"Oh, so you're going to stay in the room? Or is that too close to participating for you?" the Doctor jabs again.

"Doctor…" Rose says, giving him a look as she squeezes his hand in warning. She's not really sure when she became the intermediary peacekeeper between the two, but since they both refuse to be anything but pouting children when mad at one another, she supposes she'll have to do.

"Well," Faith starts with a sigh, looking uncomfortable, her brow creased like she's concentrating very hard, has a headache, or maybe both, "You are the one who said you might need me," Faith lets that hang in the air, eyeing the Doctor to see if he will take the words back.

Surprisingly, the Doctor doesn't rise to the bait. Choosing to ignore her instead as he turns away, "Right then. Gwyneth, what do we need to do?"

"R-Right," Gwyneth agrees, sending a nervous look over at Faith and the Doctor.

Rose did similar, though with more emphasis on exasperation than nervousness.

Without further ado, Gwyneth explains that this is how madam Mortlock, of Bute Town, does her séances. In frustration, Charles refutes the whole thing, once again, as a trick. That Gwyneth knows nothing.

Meanwhile, Faith was doing her best, with her limited knowledge and experience, to prepare herself for the inevitable attack that the Gelth will incite. Her main goal of being in the room, was to protect Gwyneth from their full onslaught by using her own barriers as a cushion.

At least, that's her goal. Though, if the Doctor wasn't able to do this originally, Faith doubts she'll be able to do anything about it either. There is the off chance though, that he didn't do anything originally because it would 'disturb the signal' or some rubbish like that. So all she can do is hope, and have faith in herself and her abilities.

Her concentration is broken when the Doctor berates Charles. "Now don't antagonize her," he gets a cheesy grin on his face at he says his next words. Too smug with the pun he came up with, "I love a happy medium."

Rose snorts, bumping his shoulder, "I can't believe you just said that."

Despite herself, Faith laughs too, and the Doctor grins over at her, only to remember that they are supposed to be upset at one another, and both look away. Each is unsure how to go about making up, yet wanting to ease the tension.

Rose sees this, and her smile grows a little more exasperated as she jokingly rolls her eyes at Gwyneth, who smiles.

Regardless of her nascent crush, and Faith's own protests, Rose can tell there's something between the two. Maybe not love— yet. But something. And although her own heart is apprehensive, she does have a boyfriend… it would be more drama than any of them need. Even if he is a useless lump.

Plus, Faith is completely oblivious— to basically anything concerning herself— how could Rose take advantage of that? It would be cruel, not only to Faith, but to herself and the Doctor too.

Rose glances over at the Doctor, only to see him sneaking a glance at Faith. She huffs a silent sigh, a faint smile on her lips, even as her heart gives a little squeeze.

Honestly, her friends are hopeless.

———————————

Understandably I'm on edge when Gwyneth starts concentrating on the Gelth, but the second she actually starts speaking, my hair starts to stand on end. "Speak to us. Are you there? Spirits, come. Speak to us that we may relieve your burden."

I try to breathe in, but that only brings attention to my corset, which is making that near impossible.

If I wasn't leaning against the wall, I'm pretty sure I would be collapsing right about now. I can feel the minds of the humans in the room pressing against my own as they 'reach out.' Yelling for the 'spirits' —amplifying Gwyneth's thoughts and words.

It's all so loud. The whispers are growing too. The darkness is so close—so cold.

"Can you hear that?" Rose asks, but her voice sounds so far away.

There's singing in my head. Foreign alien words. Beautiful, yet eerie. Filled with dark unknown promises— like the songs mythology tells of sirens. A shiver crawls up my spine on long spindly legs.

"What's it saying?" Rose asks, as if from the end of a very long tunnel.

"They can't get through the rift." the Doctor explains back, equally as distant. I can feel the slimey tendrils of the crack trying to pull me closer, the singing ever louder. "Gwyneth, it's not controlling you, you're controlling it. Now, look deep. Allow them through."

'Yes! Yes!' excited voices cheer in praise at the Doctor's order. The singing ebbs away momentarily to be replaced by a million happy voices, 'Let us through! Free us! Let us speak! Let us sing for you!'

"I can't!" Gwyneth winces, her voice so much closer than the others. I feel that pain with her. The pain of the rift gnawing at my nerves, sapping my strength.

It's no wonder Gwyneth never thought to go against them. She's heard their songs her whole life. Their singing in itself is a manipulation.

I know this— and yet it sounds so lovely. Why did I want to keep them out of my head again? They sound so nice. Soothing. If I just listen, all the pain will go away. They aren't bad. Can't be bad.

No. They can. They are—

Promising something beautiful and glorious. Angels singing in heaven— everyone is waiting. It will be so happy. Let them through.

But to get to heaven— to get to those lost loved ones— you have to die. Death is the only way to reach them.

I think there's smoke starting to coagulate above the table, above Gwyneth, but my vision is filled with black spots and floating stars.

I'm barely able to concentrate on where I am, much less help Gwyneth. Caught up in the tide of voices clamoring around me, buffeted by the waves of silent noise. Clawed hands slowly peeling away at the wooden beams of my mind.

It's the kidnapping with Sneed all over again. I'm far too helpless. I keep overestimating myself. It's frustrating and infuriating all at once.

That's when they start to speak, my mouth ghosting the words that Gwyneth's mouth voices, joined by the voices of children. "Pity us. Pity the Gelth. There is so little time. Help us." I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself. Tasting the coppery effect of my actions, the pain clears the haze enough so that I can focus and lock out the intruding entities.

"What do you want us to do?" the Doctor asks, sounding far closer than he did a second ago when prompting Gwyneth.

A gaseous creature floats above Gwyneth as it projects its voice through her; many and one all speaking behind the children's voices, "The rift. Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge." Too much sound. It's too much noise! Why can't they all shut up! Just shut up!! —No. I need to concentrate on the words. Hear them and understand exactly what they are saying. How they are twisting the truth.

"What for?" the Doctor asks, and I have to concentrate just to differentiate between what is said and what lies in the between.

I swear when this whole thing is over, I'm getting the Doctor to help make my defenses become nearly impenetrable.

"We are so very few," the Gelth plea oh so sweetly, "The last of our kind. We face extinction."

"How…" I start, having to clear my raspy throat before continuing, "How many are a few?" Because they definitely do not feel like what I count as a few.

Both the Doctor and the Gelth ignore my question.

"Why?" the Doctor asks instead, "What happened?"

"Once, we had a physical form like you, but then the war came," the Gelth explain, sounding far too similar to the 'and then the fire nation attacked' speech.

Unfortunately for the Gelth, it's rather hard to empathize with a tragic backstory when said creatures are the cause of my current mental overload. Which makes it increasingly hard to think, let alone think from someone else's perspective.

"War? What war?" Charles asks.

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

"And did you do anything to, I don't know, to deserve what happened?" I ask again, head slightly clearer as I bat away the grasping hands.

"Faith…" the Doctor warns.

"We have done nothing to deserve this!" The Gelth insist, sounding offended that I'd even dare ask.

"Buut you did do something? Joined in a battle or whatever?" I wheedle, knowing I sound unsympathetic.

"We are failing! Pity us! Pity the Gelth!" they whine, ignoring me and letting off a pained wail.

"Faith, stay quiet and leave this to me," the Doctor admonishes again. I don't answer to that, just giving a vague hum as I focus on the ghost.

"We want to stand tall, to feel the sunlight, to live again," they plead. "We need a physical form, and your dead are abandoned. They're going to waste. Give them to us."

"But we can't," Rose cuts in, looking around at the others.

I nod, "Yeah, I agree."

"Why not?" The Doctor disputes, giving us both a stern look.

"It's not— I mean, it's not—" Rose fumbles.

"Not decent? Not polite?" The Doctor asks, "It could save their lives."

"And it could kill a lot more if we aren't careful," I remark ominously, crossing my arms, "Depending on how many of them there actually are."

Once again, the Gelth ignore me in order to plead to the Doctor, "Open the rift. Let the Gelth through. We're dying. Help us. Pity the Gelth—" with a dramatically pained cry, the Gelth disappears back into the pipes.

There's a moment of silence after they leave.

"Welp," I state, flopping bonelessly into an empty chair, Gwyneth similarly sagging in her chair, "That could have gone better."

Everyone starts talking at once.