A/N: PLAGIARISM :'(
I'm sorry to add this in before the chapter starts, I was made aware of a plagiarism taking place on quotev of my Star Wars series, yes, the series, both stories were stolen. I don't know the user's name as it wasn't visible to me, but I've posted screen captured evidence on my tumblr of both their stories and my own. They are identical. Tipping the Balance and Rise of the Chosen One were stolen.
They copy and pasted my work. Literally. Amira-Tal, Neeva, all my original chapters and content are there with no alterations, they didn't even change the OC's name, nor was there any credit given or mention of my work, the most they did was put up a different picture of Amira-Tal :(
Please help me report these stories on quotev.
If you go to the quotev website add to the end of the link:
/story/12474449/Tipping-the-Balence/1, for Tipping the Balance
/story/12476317/Rise-of-the-Chosen-One, for Rise of the Chosen One
I'm really upset about this. They posted about 3 months ago, which was roughly when I began posting again or preparing to post so it sort of leaves a sour taste in my mouth about when I got to start putting up work again :'(
If anyone wants to look at the evidence, it's pretty much the two most recent posts on my tumblr ( .com)
I'll be posting this on my next chapter as well as I've already put this chapter up but, now that the evidence is posted, I've edited this chapter to include it.
~8~
Mummy on the Orient Express: One Last Hurrah
Tailor sighed sadly as she stood before a mirror in the TARDIS wardrobe, looking at the dress she'd picked out for this adventure. It was black and solemn, which was how she felt. In some cultures, black was something fit for mourning and funerals, and wasn't that what this trip was? An ending?
It was a lovely gown, fitted on top, sleeveless, with a skirt that wasn't fluffy but hanging freely to the floor. She had sheer fabric for sleeves, from her shoulders to her wrists. Her hair was up in a twist, with a few black feathers decorating it. All her father had said was dress for the 1920s. She read between the lines though, no flapper dresses for her or her father would have coronary. She didn't feel much like wearing anything festive or fun either, not with the news of what this trip would mean.
Her Aunt Clara was going to be leaving them after this trip.
HOW was she supposed to enjoy any trip when that was hanging over her?
She didn't understand it though, hadn't sensed it either which made her question what sort of psychic she was going to be if she couldn't even get a sense off of her Aunt wanting to stop traveling. They had had such a nice time, saved the earth, saved the alien, watched the moon hatch and watched a new moon be created. Everything had been wonderful!
And then they had gotten a call from Clara to stop round, they never said no to Clara, and popped in. Clara hadn't seemed upset or angry, just sort of sullen and serious, had asked to talk to her parents quick. She hadn't thought much of it, likely just 'adult' things her father seemed to think she was too young to handle. (She was 405!) So she'd gone back into the TARDIS to finish running some upgrades on MK9, she wanted to try and add some teleporting capabilities to him, at least so he could get back into the TARDIS if ever he was caught somewhere else. She did not ever want to think about her little doggy being in a situation that Sarah Jane's K9 had been in with the Krillitane Oil.
She'd just finished and was about to test it, when her parents came back in. She hadn't needed to be psychic to know something was wrong, her father rarely ever looked so thrown or grave or confused all at once. Even her mother had looked a little startled and for something to surprise her mother? It was serious.
So many things had gone through her mind in the span of seconds. Kovarian was back. The Silence were hunting them again. The Time Lords had reappeared about to initiate the Final Sanction. One of the family had died. The TARDIS was going to explode again…
It was just as bad as any of that, Clara had decided she didn't want to travel with them any longer, that she wanted to start focusing on living her life on Earth.
Had...had she done something? Had she done something to make her Aunt not want to travel with them anymore? Was it her fault?
Her mother had reassured her before she could even voice her fears, that Clara had told them it was getting to be too much, all the adventures. It was too much of a strain to go from one life in the TARDIS to another on Earth. She had too many responsibilities and they were starting to suffer because of her travels and no, she didn't think that putting more time between when the Time Lords showed up would help.
It was like with her Aunt Amy and Uncle Rory, her mother had said, there came a time where human companions just felt the need to live their lives on Earth, build their foundations.
She didn't remember it hurting so much with her Aunt and Uncle though. But, then again, she had been very young and Amy and Rory hadn't actually ever ended the travels. Her parents were weaning them off, but they hadn't come to the very end, in a way where Amy and Rory had decided to stop and told her parents so.
She tried to look on the bright side, at least she would still see Clara, on holidays and with the rest of the family, but it still hurt knowing this was going to be their last adventure.
A tiny part of her wondered if Danny Pink might have had a hand in this sudden decision. He hadn't seemed happy with any of them during the Blitzer. But she'd been so sure, when her mother had talked to him, that something might have changed. He hadn't seemed as angry and upset…
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," her mother's voice spoke and she could see the woman approaching from behind her in the mirror.
She was grateful Clara had already found her outfit, a flapper-style dress, and gone out to the console room. She could talk to her mother in English and not Gallifreyan. She always felt bad when she or her parents did that around others. It always seemed to make people feel left out when they couldn't understand what was being said and she didn't like making people feel that.
"Thanks," Tailor murmured, looking at her mother's reflection. She cracked a small smile, seeing the woman was wearing a TARDIS blue gown. It was quite a silky dress, sleeveless but without even sheer sleeves, a slightly move v-like neckline, and a belt to cinch her waist in her hand. It appeared her mother had come to use the mirror as well.
Angel reached out a hand to twist one of the feathers in Tailor's hair, helping it lie a bit better, "It's not the end," she remarked, giving her daughter a soft smile.
"I know," Tailor took a deep breath, "I just…I don't like any endings."
Angel laughed lightly, "You sound just like your father."
Tailor smiled more at that, having experienced how he would rip the last page out of books just for that reason.
"Everything will be alright," Angel reassured her, "Clara just needs time."
Tailor nodded, offering her mother a small smile, before heading out of the wardrobe.
Angel watched her go, hoping her words would prove true. She hadn't expected Clara to stop traveling quite so soon, hadn't sensed it coming. But even now that the woman had called their adventures together off, she couldn't help but feel it wasn't…finished? If that was the right word. She could sense that time was all that was needed for everything to sort itself out. Maybe it meant Clara needed time and then would want to travel again, or it could mean they needed time to heal once she left. She didn't know for certain. She could hope, though, that maybe, just maybe, she hadn't sensed Clara ending their travels because she might change her mind and want to keep going and, therefore, there was nothing to sense.
She smiled a bit at that thought even as she shook her head. Part of her had been pleased her sensations and visions were getting stronger, sure that it would mean she could keep more people safe. Another part of her, small though it was, had been worried that there would be no mystery or excitement left if she knew everything that was coming. She was alright not sensing everything, so long as it meant, when it was important, she could.
She looked down at the belt in her hand, glancing at herself in the mirror, before moving to wind it around her. She tugged it a bit, about to close it, when she studied her appearance. The belt would be a little tight, being designed to cinch the waist, and the gown was designed to be a little more flowing and less restricted. It wouldn't look good with a belt.
She laughed, there she was, being the last one to be ready, as she always seemed to be whenever she dined to wear a costume on trips. Though she expected it, it wasn't that she spent too much time on the details of her outfits, it was just…she liked being the last one to appear. There was nothing to distract the Doctor after her, no one to come along and pull his gaze away. She rather liked when he lost his breath at her all dressed up.
She chuckled lightly under her breath and moved to place the belt back on a shelf, leaving the wardrobe.
~8~
In a quaint little train car, a waitress in uniform was walking along a narrow aisle running between the tables, taking orders from the patrons and seeing if anyone needed anything. It was quite a formal setting, everyone dressed in dinner clothes fit for the 1920s of Earth.
An older woman frowned as she eyed something at the end of the car, ignoring the young woman sitting across from her, "Is there some sort of fancy dress thing on this evening?" she asked her companion.
"I don't think so," the girl stuttered, "Why do you ask?"
The older woman scoffed, nodding her head at something over the girl's shoulder, "That fellow over there, dressed as a mummy monster thing," she gestured at the man she saw, playing at being a mummy, walking along the aisle, lurching almost, heading towards them.
The girl frowned and looked behind her, but there was nothing of the sort that she could see, "Who do you mean? I can't see him."
The older woman huffed, the girl was utterly useless, and so she held up her hand and waved over the maitre'd, "You! You! Throw that man out of my dining car," she gestured at the mummy, still ambling closer, it was utterly foul, unsanitary! Honestly, how dare these people think this was acceptable? "It's disgusting."
The maitre'd gave her an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, Madam. Which man?"
"Which man?!" she demanded, offended, as though it wasn't obvious, "I'll have your job. That man, right there," she pointed at the mummy, "Dressed as a monster."
"Mama…" her companion spoke, a hesitance in her voice that belied a belief that the woman before her was going mad, "There isn't anyone there. Are you feeling ok?"
"Don't you dare lie to me, girl!" she snapped, "I won't be made a fool of," she stood, glaring at the mummy, still approaching, "Stop it. Stop it!" but it kept coming and now she realized it was heading for HER specifically, not just in their direction, so she turned to those around her, "Stop him at once," she ordered, "Right now!"
"Mama, there's no one there," the girl spoke, "You're worrying me. Do you want one of your pills?"
But the older woman ignored her, waving her arms as the mummy reached her, doing all she could to ward it off, keep it away from her.
Sadly, to anyone else watching, it appeared more as though she were having some sort of fit.
"Oh, no!" the woman screamed, feeling its grip on her, "Get it off! Get it off!" she leaned back as far as she could, its hands moving to her head and a pain exploded there.
A moment later, she stopped, collapsing, dead.
The girl gasped, struggling to her feet and rushing to the woman's side, "Is there a doctor?" she cried, hoping someone might help her, "Sorry, I need a doctor! Sorry, I don't know, she just stopped."
She broke down in sobs as the other passengers and staff in the car could only stand and gape at what had happened, until a single man hurried forward to examine the fallen woman.
~8~
Angel smiled lightly at the Doctor as she stepped out of the TARDIS, the old box parked expertly in the baggage car of the Orient Express, a remake of the original that traveled through space. She was more focused on the Doctor's attire though.
"I can't believe YOU dressed up," she remarked with a little laugh, appreciating his dark suit that was faintly accurate for the period he'd said to dress in, even adding in a tie!
"Yes, well," he shrugged, his voice holding the barest hint of resignation and sorrow, for he too was affected by Clara's sudden decision to depart though he was trying not to let it show. Tailor had been upset enough by the revelation, he didn't want to make it worse. He had to be strong for his family and if that meant being 'fine' then he would be, "Special occasion, isn't it?"
She reached out to take his hand in her own, pressing a gentle kiss to his scarred knuckles, "You being here makes any occasion special."
He chuckled, "That's MY line, I believe."
She sniggered a bit, "That reminds me of William, how Martha's 'effect' was special enough all on its own."
"Right sentiment, wrong woman."
Angel shook her head at that though she smiled at him for it.
His eyes trailed over her, taking in her gown and her hair being up in a twist similar to Tailor's, he loved it when she wore blue. To him, the color wasn't just a reminder of her connection to the TARDIS, to how special she was, but it also brought out the golden flecks in her eyes.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, unknowingly echoing what she had said to Tailor but in a different way.
"You look quite dashing yourself," she reached out to pat his tie, a fondness in her eye that had him placing a hand over hers on his chest and just holding it there a moment.
"I bet you're not going to miss that," Tailor's voice spoke, a teasing note in her tone, though there was still that sad quality to it.
Clara, who had stepped out of the box beside Tailor, dressed in her own period appropriate attire of a flapper-reminiscent gown, her hair cut in a bob, could only smile at the two wistfully. She would miss it, she really would. The Doctor often appeared so cold to others, but when he was around his Mate or daughter he just lit up, softened, warmed. She would miss seeing them like that all the time.
In a way, it was an example of love she wished she could have in her own life.
She took a breath, stealing herself, reminding herself that was why she was doing this. Because she might have a chance at that sort of love, if she made things right with Danny and there was only one way she could see to do that. He couldn't handle all her traveling in space and time, and so...and so she wouldn't any more. She couldn't. The Time Lords would be fine, heal, move on, get another Companion, but she might not find another Danny Pink if she didn't do this.
...so why did she keep having to remind herself that she made the right choice?
The Doctor turned to them, "Your train awaits, my lady," he gestured behind him.
"Baggage car, my love," Angel reminded him quietly as she shut the door to the TARDIS, giving MK9 an apologetic look as the pup remained within the box. Despite being in space, the train was meant to be old-fashioned and so they'd decided the tiny robotic dog might stand out a little too much in such a setting and, for some reason, the Doctor was actually making an effort to blend in this time.
"Ah," he nodded, "Yes, right. The real train should be through here…" he led them to a door, stepping into the connecting area between the cars, "There were many trains to take the name Orient Express," he began to explain, "But only one..." he opened the final door into the main car, opening his mouth to exclaim the final piece.
When Tailor beat him to it, cheering, "In space!"
Clara could only gape, seeing an old-fashioned car, but through the window, literal space! There was a band playing in the corner, a lounge-esque rendition of 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen. Passengers were chatting lightly and having cocktails, passing hor d'oeuvres around.
"Of course it is," Clara breathed, still stunned.
There was so much beauty in that car, in the view, the wonder of it all, seeing something like this that no one would ever believe existed or was real? It was one of the many reasons why she had traveled with them so long. There was SO much to see and they wanted to share it with her.
…and she was about to walk away from it all.
"Completely faithful recreation of the original Orient Express," the Doctor smiled around the room.
"Though it IS a bit bigger than I remember," Angel remarked with a smile of her own, recalling that adventure.
"And it's in space!" Tailor nearly bounced on her toes, "Did I mention that?"
Clara chuckled, "I'm not sure, did you?"
Tailor rolled her eyes.
"Oh, and the rails are actually hyperspace ribbons," the Doctor added, "But, in every other respect, identical. Painstaking attention to detail."
"I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars..." the singer began to trill, just as a man with one eye shoved his way past them.
"Most of the time."
"On a collision course I am a satellite I'm out of control I'm a sex machine ready to reload. Like an atom bomb I'm 'bout to oh, oh, oh..."
Tailor glanced at Clara, seeing her just beaming at what she was seeing, "You're going to miss this though."
"Getting a feeling?" Clara tried to tease, clearing her throat.
Tailor shook her head, "You've got that smile on your face," she told her, "The sad smile."
Clara cleared her throat hard, "You…you can tell what my different smiles are?" she thought only Danny had noticed them.
"Of course," Angel told her, "Humans aren't robots. Your faces tell a story if you know how to read them. And we tend to pay special attention to our families."
"I've no idea what they're going on about," the Doctor told Clara as Angel and Tailor began to walk further into the room, "I find it confusing. It's like two emotions at once. It's like you're malfunctioning.,," he paused at that, turning to face her, eyeing her mock-suspiciously, "Are you sure you're not a robot?"
Clara shook her head at him, fond, not answering though as she stepped past him to follow the Time Ladies.
"Travelling at the speed of light," the singer continued, "Wanna make a supersonic woman of you..."
"Clara…" the Doctor began, glancing at her, "I…" he searched for the words, "I hope this is alright?" yes that sounded about right and hopefully not-insulting, "I just thought this would be a good one to..."
"To end it," Clara finished for him, nodding, "Yeah. It is. It's a good choice. Good one to end on."
"Yeah?"
Clara looked at him, her smile growing sad and touched, he really was worried it wouldn't be a good trip. He cared. He always did that, made her question if he still saw her as a sister…then went and did something that proved he did. Worrying about this? Wanting it to be something she'd like? He had taken her request for one more trip, a trip goodbye, and tried to make it one she would love, to end their travels on a good note and part ways in a positive manner.
"Yeah," she didn't even care that her voice cracked this time.
"Come on, Aunt Clara!" Tailor called from a little ways ahead.
"Shall we?" the Doctor chuckled at the eager tone in his daughter's voice, holding out an arm to Clara.
She laughed, sniffling, and nodded, "Yeah," she agreed, winding her arm through his as they moved to join the others.
They came to the Time Ladies' side, the two looking out the right side windows at a dark spot in space, moments before a computer spoke over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be good enough to look from the windows on the right of the train, you'll be able to see the soaring majesty of the Magellan black hole."
"Ah, I remember when this was all planets as far as the eye could see," the Doctor mused wistfully, "All gone now. Gobbled up by that beast."
"Thankfully not the same beast as Kroptor," Angel remarked, leaning into the Doctor as he moved an arm around her waist, "I really don't want to repeat that."
Tailor's face scrunched, "That was when you faced the devil, right?" she asked her parents, wanting to be sure she got the story right.
"The Devil?" Clara stared at them, "You're not being serious, are you?"
"I died then," Angel murmured, not answering completely, but letting her know it truly was as serious as she seemed to think it was.
"Won't happen now," Tailor proclaimed, "Mum's MUCH stronger now."
The Doctor nodded, "It's just a black hole this time."
Tailor glanced at Clara, "You're doing the smile again."
Clara could only nod. Though she was sure her smile was more from how torn she felt than anything else. They spoke so easily about a time where Angel died and...it made a pit form in her stomach when she thought more on her decision. She was going to leave, what would happen if she left and one of them got into trouble and regenerated? They'd have died and she wouldn't be there for them. They'd have died and, maybe, her being there would have saved them. Could...could she really just go like that? They lived their lives in so much danger and they (ok, the Doctor) took so much looking after and Angel couldn't see everything and...
No, she had to stop her thoughts running away from her. She had made her choice. The Doctor and Angel were older, Angel was stronger now than she had been when she died that time. They had Tailor to worry about and were both FAR more careful because of it. They...they'd be fine without her.
Oh, why did it hurt so much to think that?
She shook her head, trying to focus on the black hole through the window...but even that made her sorrow grow. Because here was something else that she would see that no one else would. Even now she was looking at a black hole, a literal black hole and it was…it was beautiful. And the Doctor wasn't done talking about that majesty, about all the other things she still had yet to see...and now wouldn't.
"There was this planet," he began, "Obsidian. Sweetheart?" he glanced at Tailor.
She rolled her eyes playfully, knowing he was testing her knowledge, "The planet of perpetual darkness."
The Doctor snapped his fingers, nodding, "There was also a planet that was made completely of shrubs…"
"Ni," Tailor supplied.
"And then there was Thedion Four."
"Constant acid rain."
"Had a lovely picnic there once, wearing a gas mask."
"Made me think of Nancy and Jaime," Angel laughed at the memory.
"Are you my mummy?" Tailor teased, bumping her hip with her mother's.
Clara felt another twinge at that, so many more inside jokes and references to adventures that they would have that she wouldn't be a part of. The next time she saw them they'd probably have a new companion, or even if they didn't they'd have new stories and memories of adventures, new jokes she'd miss. She wouldn't be there to experience them...
"That's a lie," a voice spoke, and they looked over to see a woman, looking rather worn and upset. And why wouldn't she be? After all she'd just witnessed, all she'd lost.
"I'm sorry?" Clara blinked at her.
"That's a lie, what you said," the woman pointed at the Doctor, "Thedion Four was destroyed thousands of years ago so you couldn't have been there."
And that struck Clara too. They would see things that were long ago destroyed, seeing them in their prime. It was a beautiful thing to be able to do and she wouldn't any longer.
"Miss Pitt," another man called, approaching the woman with two others at his side, dressed in a uniform full of gold braiding and a handful of medals, a security captain judging by his insignias, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather rest in your room?"
"That man's a liar," was all the woman said, pointing at the Doctor.
"Perhaps you'd allow Mr. Carlyle here to escort you back?"
"It'll be alright, miss," one of the men stepped to her side, gesturing her to walk on, "Just come with me."
The foursome watched the woman go, Angel frowning as she eyed her, feeling a deep grief radiating off the woman.
…a ghastly looking mummy reached out its hands towards someone, in the middle of a dinner car...
…a piece of cloth hung behind a glass display...
…a crowd of people looked on, stood in a dinner car, as an old woman screamed about a mummy but there was nothing there...
Angel looked over at the Doctor, catching his eye as a deep frown grew across his face at what she'd seen. It was…conflicting, the vision. It was as though she'd seen the same event but from two different perspectives, one where there was a mummy present, and another where there was nothing. And that cloth...what was that about?
Usually he would be thrilled to have some sort of mystery pop up but…not this time. Even with Angel and Tailor there, he would still have a little swell of curiosity and interest. But right now he just didn't want anything to go awry, for once. If this was going to be Clara's last trip with them, he wanted it to be a good one, not more danger, not more of a reminder of why she was leaving.
Angel reached out to take his hand in silent support, not wanting to let the others know that a danger might be on the horizon. The longer they could keep things calm and light, the better. For all they knew, they might be able to get this sorted without Clara or Tailor even noticing.
…ok, that would be quite the stretch, but it MIGHT be possible.
"Sorry about that," the security captain turned to them, "I suppose it's understandable in the circumstances. I don't believe we've been introduced. Captain Quell," he reached out a hand to shake theirs.
"I'm Clara," she introduced, "This is the Doctor, Angel, and Tailor."
"Ah, another one."
"Another what?" Tailor frowned.
"Doctor," Angel answered instead, moving to shake his hand in return, "Nice to meet you."
"Yes, quite," Quell answered Tailor while giving Angel a polite nod, "We've got doctors and professors coming out of our ears on this trip. So, what are you a doctor of?"
"Now, there's a question that's never asked often enough," the Doctor grinned, "Let's say...intestinal parasites."
Tailor could only shake her head into her palm.
The sad thing was…he DID have a degree in that, among many other things, like cheese-making.
Quell eyed him, "I'm beginning to think Miss Pitt was right about you," he tipped his hat to them and turned to go.
"Could you please give Maisie our condolences?" Angel spoke, causing him to stop, "There was a death in her family, wasn't there?"
"What?" Clara blinked, looking between Angel and Quell, "Someone died? What happened?"
The man frowned, "Don't you know?"
"Would she have asked if we did?" Tailor countered with a polite smile, "You know, whispers," she shrugged, "People talk, but are they speaking truth or falsities?"
The man nodded, understanding, there were a number of whispers going around the train since Miss. Pitt's unfortunate incident. And they really didn't know what had happened, for all they knew it might BE intestinal parasites that had been the cause behind it all. Perhaps if he told them what they knew, this Doctor could at least strike one possibility off the list.
~8~
A short while later would find the Time Lords and Clara gathered in a corridor of the train, Clara sipping on champagne, Angel and the Doctor with flutes of their own in hand though Tailor had a water.
"There's a body and there's a mummy," Clara began, thinking over what they'd been told by Quell, "I mean, can you not just get on a train? Did a wizard put a curse on you about mini-breaks?"
She looked to Angel for an answer, but the woman could only shrug, "Most wizards end up being him, so that would be like cursing himself."
Tailor sniggered when Angel took a tiny sip of the champagne, before spitting it back into her glass with a grimace, so much like the Doctor's last incarnation she only just barely managed to keep her full laugh in.
"Might be nothing," the Doctor remarked, absently reaching out to take her flute and put it on the tray of a passing waiter, wanting anything she didn't like far away from her, "Old ladies die all the time. It's practically their job description."
"And the monster?" Clara countered.
"Earth does have records of the mind going around a certain age for some people," Tailor reminded her, "It could have been a reaction to medications or her own brain playing tricks on her."
"A number of species believe death comes for us in the end," the Doctor nodded.
'...almost every culture in the universe has some concept of an afterlife...'
"Maybe in her religion or culture, they picture death as a mummy coming for them."
'...welcome to the Underworld. Otherwise known as the Nethersphere, or the Promised Land. It's where you go when you die...'
"Something seen by no one except her, which suggests that it wasn't there."
'...the three words...'
"A dying brain, lack of oxygen, hallucinations."
'...guard the graveyards...'
"Anyway, people do just die sometimes, she was over 100 years old."
"Everything, all things, must die," Angel said softly, closing her eyes and rubbing her head at the whispers she heard, small traces of the future that she had heard before, at least some of it. She was starting to get a deep weariness in her bones, all these whispers she kept getting of death and the afterlife. It was coming, she could sense it, but she didn't have a firm enough grasp to see when or where or to whom and she was starting to fear she wouldn't be able to stop it.
The Doctor reached out, his hand moving to the small of her back, his thumb stroking along her spin in reassurance, 'Whatever it is, we'll sort it,' he promised her, hearing those whispers in his mind from hers. None of it painted a good picture for the future to come, 'We'll stop it.'
He could only hope that it wasn't a premonition of this trip, that would be the absolute worst way to end this adventure.
"Says the 2,000 year old aliens," Clara pointed out, not seeming to notice the silent exchange, having taken to looking around the room at the other people when the Doctor began to speak.
Tailor, however, glanced between her parents, taking a sip of her water as she eyed them suspiciously. She knew when her mother had visions, and she knew the signs of when it was a bad one. Though, to be fair, most of her visions were hardly ever good. She knew her mother tended to see glimpse of when people were being hurt or dying so she could try to save them. But whatever she'd just seen now was upsetting...not in an immediate way, so it likely wasn't about this trip. Something about the future after this was alarming both her parents.
She would have to be extra careful and do as they said, they'd have enough worrying about whatever her mother saw. She wanted to ask, but she also didn't want to alarm Clara...so she promised herself she'd do so once this trip was over.
The Doctor frowned, a little confused at Clara's tone, "…Clara, you actually sound as if you want this to be a thing. Do you?"
He really wasn't sure what was going on now. He thought this was supposed to be a calm, happy trip, without danger, just a nice time to spend, the four of them, before Clara called it quits…but now it was sounding like she wanted it to be some sort of dangerous adventure that may or may not end well.
"I'm not saying I don't want it to be a thing," Clara answered diplomatically, "It's just...I don't want this to seem...different," she shrugged, unable to find the words to describe it, "I want it to be like a normal trip," if it was too calm, she felt like it would just be a reminder, even more so, that it was the last trip. If it was as mysterious and dangerous as always, maybe she could pretend a little longer that it wasn't. She sighed, it was unfair, really, to say it because it wasn't like they could control when or where danger appeared, it tended to happen more often than not but not always and not intentionally, "But, I mean, if you think that there is nothing to worry about, then that is fine by me, too."
Tailor watched as Clara moved to head back into the main car, and glanced at her parents, "It…it ISN'T anything to worry about, is it?"
The Doctor moved his arm around his daughter's shoulders, "Whatever it is or isn't, we'll take care of it," he promised her.
"So it IS something," Clara called, having only just gotten to the door.
"It might be, it might not," the Doctor said as Angel shrugged, her vision hadn't been very clear and she was too on edge from her last vision to sense much of the present.
"It's our last trip," Angel spoke, "We just want it to be a good one."
"It will be," Clara told them, "And, yeah, it's our last trip but it's not like I'm never going to see you again. You three are going to come round for loads of holidays. So…good or bad, it's not the end of everything."
The Time Lords smiled, as though they truly needed to hear her say that, to reassure THEM that it would be ok, no matter how this trip ended, she would still want to see them and spend time, even if it was relegated to just holidays with the family.
"Alright then," the Doctor smiled, "Let's find out what's going on."
~8~
Even though the Orient Express was travelling through space, not near enough any star to have a designate daytime or nighttime indicated by the rising sun or any sunlight, the train DID have an automatic light routine and sleep cycle. It turned out that the group of travelers had arrived in the evening hours, only a short while before the passengers were to retire to bed. Which was where the travelers found themselves.
The Doctor and Angel were cuddled together in a compartment, both wide awake. The Doctor was on his back, Angel beside him, her head and hand resting on his chest, listening to his hearts beating, her hand idly tracing odd patterns on his shirt. They didn't need much sleep, being Time Lords. They could sense their daughter, dead to the world, asleep in a nearby compartment, she was still a relatively young Time Lord, still growing. Clara was in another compartment, resting somewhat peacefully.
More peacefully than the Doctor was at least, his mind could not be quieted, too consumed with the odd mystery of the mummy-no-one-could-see.
"It's nothing," he murmured, "Nothing. Definitely sure. 99 percent sure."
"Really?" Angel hummed absently, "99? Not 100?"
"99 is quite high," he countered.
"But…" Angel smiled, not needing to have any connection to his mind or psychic ability to know 99 wasn't good enough for him to ignore a situation, sometimes not even 100 percent was enough. But she also knew, because this was Clara's last trip, he really WAS trying to make it a good one without any deadly danger lurking around the corner. He was trying to ignore the red flags his mind was sending him, for Clara's sake…so he needed to be teased into feeling it was a larger danger than it might be, so he could investigate it.
He fought it, he truly did, but he gave in with a huff, "Ok," he muttered, "Ok, 75 percent."
Angel laughed lightly, "That's quite a leap! 24!"
The Doctor fought a smile.
~8~
In Clara's compartment, the poor girl was wide awake, laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her mobile clutched in her hands, desperately debating whether she should call Danny. Her very first thought, as soon as she was alone in her compartment, was to call Danny and share with him the amazing trip she was on. She wanted to tell him all about the Orient Express in SPACE, with the 1920s design, and the glorious cocktails.
But she just kept remembering the last time they'd spoken, just after saving the moon, how he'd reacted. He didn't want to hear anything about her travels, he didn't want her to BE on her travels, would he want her to call now?
A train in space was pretty cool right? He'd want to know something like that existed, wouldn't he?
…but there was also the grim reaper mummy, and Danny wouldn't appreciate the danger that might not even be a danger.
Ok, so…no, she shouldn't call him. It was just a train. It might be in space, but take that away and it was a train. A 1920s themed train. You could find that on Earth easy.
It was boring, really. Boring, boring, boring, not worth mentioning.
Right?
~8~
"Because you know what this sounds like, don't you?" the Doctor asked as he hopped out of the bed, holding out a hand to Angel to help her up, neither of them having bothered to change into nightclothes as they hadn't planned to really sleep but stay awake and chat.
Angel hummed, already seeing the answer in his mind, "It sounds like a mummy who can only be seen by the victim."
"I was being rhetorical."
She snorted, shaking her head, "No you weren't," she squeezed his hand, "I've gotten better at understanding rhetorical questions. That wasn't one."
"I knew exactly what this sounds like," he defended, serious for a moment before grinning at her, "I just love hearing your voice."
She laughed, leaning in to give him a light peck on the lips, "The feeling has always been mutual."
He couldn't help how his grin grew smug at her words, recalling all the times in the past where she'd remarked about just that, how much she loved to hear him talk even if she didn't always understand what he was talking about, just the sound of his voice.
Angel turned and grabbed his jacket off a nearby hook, holding it up to help him into it before they stepped out of the compartment and into the train corridor. She reached out to take his hand when he lifted it to knock on Tailor's door, in the process stilling his other hand from coming up to knock on Clara's as well.
'We should let them rest, my love,' she told him in his mind. Tailor was sound asleep and Clara had enough things she was worrying about right now. She couldn't sense anything specific, just that it felt like there was something weighing on her thoughts, a number of different things. She wanted to help the girl feel better, help relieve some of her worries, but she also didn't want to push or make Clara feel like she was prying or invading her privacy.
When Clara was ready, she knew the girl would know she could always talk to them about anything.
The Doctor nodded, seeing her thoughts, and turned, keeping his hand in hers, to lead her down the corridor and out of the car. Angel glanced back a moment before the door closed behind her, knowing Clara was likely about to leave her own compartment and hoping they had been quick enough to slip out without her noticing. They didn't know how this mummy-thing worked and she didn't want Clara or Tailor to end up a target for it because of their snooping. Best to keep them in their compartments as long as possible.
She turned to continue on, just missing Clara stepping out of her compartment and knocking on their door, "Doctor?" she called in a whisper, "Are you awake? Angel? Hello?"
~8~
The Doctor smirked to himself as he flashed the sonic on the lock of the engineer's car of the train, Angel stepping through the door first, having led them right to it in a way others might describe as absently, but he knew it was her sensations guiding her. The room was full of equipment and tools and a piece of plastic covering some odd device. He moved over to it, yanking the plastic off to scan the device with the sonic.
"Hello Mr. Perkins," Angel spoke, before turning around to smile at a man who had startled at the sight of them, letting out a squeak just after she called out to him.
"How did you know my name?" the man, dressed in a periodesque engineer's uniform, frowned.
"You're the chief engineer," she said, as though it was answer enough, continuing on when the man opened his mouth to ask how she knew that because it wasn't a question most guests would ask about, and offering him a hand in greeting, "I'm Angel, nice to meet you."
"Er, you too," the man shook her hand, glancing at the Doctor.
"And this is the Doctor," Angel added.
"Yes, hello," the Doctor waved, distracted by the device and the readings on the sonic.
"Beautiful bit of kit, isn't it, sir?" Perkins moved closer, "The Excelsior Life Extender. It's like driving around in a portable hospital."
"Well," Angel frowned at it, "At least it helped Mrs. Pitt a little while."
"But not enough," the Doctor muttered.
"Got me there," Perkins remarked, "Certainly got me there. Maybe it malfunctioned."
"No," Angel murmured, reaching out to touch the device, "I don't believe it did."
The Doctor nodded, holding the sonic up to read the results, "The records show that the machine did everything it could to keep her alive."
"Yeah," the man snorted, "And almost drained the battery doing it."
The Doctor blinked at that and turned to the man who seemed quite familiar with the device if he knew that, "What do you know?"
Perkins crossed his arms, "Well, I know that when I find people fiddling with a chair that someone died in, it's best to play my cards close to my chest."
"Really?" the Doctor mirrored him, crossing his arms as well, "Well, I know that when I find a man loitering near a chair that someone died in, I do just the same."
Angel looked between the two men as they stared each other down for a long moment…before both cracked a smile.
"Touché," Perkins laughed, reaching out a hand to shake the Doctor's, "Pleased to meet you, Doctor, Miss Angel," he added, more cordial now, "Course, there's a rumor that someone...or someTHING else might be responsible."
"Really?" the Doctor asked, "Enlighten us."
~8~
Clara huffed as she stepped back out of her compartment, now in her day-dress. Foolish her had thought she might actually sleep and gotten ready for bed earlier. She was NOT about to wander a train in her nightclothes. She was just about to head to Tailor's compartment, she would probably be the best person to help her find the Doctor and Angel, when she saw something that made her pause.
Maisie, the woman who had called the Doctor a liar, was walking down the corridor, in her pajamas, her eyes wide open but vacant…and…holding a shoe in her hand?
She glanced around, not sure if she was really seeing this, before moving after the woman, "Hello?" she called softly, not wanting to startle her, "Are you ok? Hello? Excuse me? Excuse me?" she looked behind her for help, but it was just her, and so she sighed and moved to follow the woman, not wanting her to get hurt as she seemed so out of sorts. She trailed behind the woman all the way to the baggage car where she finally paused, "It's Maisie, isn't it?" she asked, when the woman seemed to look around a bit, taking it to mean she was coming out of…whatever this was, "Are you alright? Do you need some help?"
Maisie suddenly turned to face her, making her jump, "I'm not mad."
Clara nodded slowly, not fully believing it, "Ok. I didn't say you were," thought it, certainly, but she wouldn't say it, not while the woman might still be a tad unstable, "But you've had a bad day. I think anybody could do with a little bit of help after a day like today."
Maisie eyed her a moment before turning to a panel in the wall, "Computer, open the door."
"Call me Gus," the computerized voice replied, "I'm afraid this door can only be opened by executive order."
Maisie pouted and reached out to push the buttons on the keypad below the panel, her pressing getting more furious and desperate as it failed to work.
"Are you ok?" Clara repeated.
Maisie spun around once more, though this time she burst into sobs, "They won't let me see her body. They should let me see her body, shouldn't they?"
"Yeah, I should think so," Clara moved over to the woman, putting an arm around her to comfort her, half wishing Angel was there right now, the woman always had such a calming presence it would be sure to help Maisie, "It's in there, is it? Ok, I have a friend who's really good with locks. And if he can't do it, his…wife…has ways of getting into places," she tried to offer the woman a reassuring smile, "Do you want to come with me, see if we can find them?"
Maisie merely jerked away from her and slammed the heel of her shoe into the panel for her answer.
Clara could only blink as the panel sparked and the door slid open, "Or you could do that because...that works, too, apparently."
Maisie didn't hesitate another moment before hurrying into the room, leaving Clara little option but to follow before the door closed behind her.
The moment it shut, Clara couldn't help but feel a little grateful she hadn't gotten Tailor involved. If this was a trap or something dangerous looming, the Doctor would probably kill her if she put his daughter in the middle of it…without him or Angel around to keep them safe at least.
~8~
Despite the late hour, there were still a handful of people in the lounge car of the train, having midnight snacks, reading, working on things they didn't have time to do during the day. The Doctor looked around, trying to spot a Mr. Emil Moorhouse, whom Perkins had told them was the leading expert on 'the Foretold', a mummy-creature no one could see, whose remains were currently aboard the train. Angel reached out and took his hand, leading him over to a man sitting quietly in the corner and reading a book.
Angel had just opened her mouth to greet the man politely, when the Doctor beat her to it by pointing at him the moment they got near enough, "What's the most interesting thing about the Foretold?"
The man startled, looking up at them, "I'm terribly sorry, I don't believe we've met."
The Doctor still forewent the introductions, the need to know about this potentially threatening invisible mummy more important than sharing names. The more he learned about this thing, the more on edge he felt about being on the train with his Mate, his Daughter, and his sister there too, "You know, the Foretold, mythical mummy. Legend has it that if you see it, you're a dead man."
"Yes…" the man eyed him, "I know what it is. You see, I happen to be..."
"Professor Emil Moorhouse, expert in alien mythology," Angel cut in this time, though she at least followed it with, "I'm Angel, and this is the Doctor," she reached out to shake his hand, "It's very nice to meet you."
The Doctor managed the briefest handshake in history, before he moved to sit down across from the man in another small armchair, tugging Angel down with a tiny squeak into his arms, onto his lap. He stared at Moorhouse as though nothing had happened, expectation clear in his expression, "So, the most interesting thing about the Foretold...go!"
Moorhouse floundered for a moment, startled by the odd man's actions, "Ah...um, well, it would have to be the time limit given before it kills you. I can't think of another myth where it's so specific. How does it go? The number of evil twice over...they that bear the Foretold's stare...have 66 seconds to live."
"No," Angel gave him an apologetic smile, "That's not what he finds most interesting."
"Nice try," the Doctor added, "Very atmospheric. Try again."
"A cynical man might say you that were trying to pump me for information," Moorhouse remarked, starting to find it both amusing and suspicious.
The Doctor maneuvered himself so one arm was around Angel, the other reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a thin case and place it on the table, "The myth of the Foretold first appeared over 5,000 years ago. In some stories, there is a riddle or secret word that is supposed to make it stop. Some characters try to bargain with it, offer riches, confess sins. All to no avail."
Angel bit back a laugh when the Doctor opened the case…to offer Moorhouse the jelly babies that were inside.
Moorhouse reached out and took one of the sweets, "Well, you certainly know a little mythology."
"I know a lot," he shrugged, "Because, from time to time, it turns out to be true."
Angel couldn't help but muse about all the myths regarding the Doctor, from so many different civilizations and species, from the wizard in fairy tales to legends of his grandeur. The Lonely God who wasn't so lonely any longer.
'And his angel,' he reminded her in his mind, sensing where her thoughts had gone, 'There's quite a lot written about you, too.'
She leaned back in his arms, resting more comfortably, a little pleased both with his words and his actions. He was so warm around her and Tailor, it was so easy to forget at times, how he could react to humans in this incarnation. He'd been around them for so long in Christmas, without being able to leave them, seen so many generations, over and over. He had told her how tired he was of humans after that. It was one thing to take a human along for an adventure or two (or more), or to appear in human civilizations or events for a brief time. To see them in different settings and eras and situations. But to be so confined as to remain among them for so long…it had tried even HIS patience with the species. He had had his fill of humans, he just wanted something different.
And it was hard for him, because he had had to protect those people every waking (and unwaking) hour for so many centuries, he just wanted them to handle themselves, to not need him ALL the time. He was frustrated now, when humans acted like 'pudding brains' because it just reminded him of all that time he'd wasted on Christmas. But he would never be that person to turn his back on someone in danger or in need.
Clara being around didn't help his conflicting emotions either. He loved the girl like a sister, but he also felt like an older brother who just had their little sister tagging along and irritating him all the time. But he did love Clara, he knew his Mate and Daughter adored her, and he would never just leave her or kick her out of the TARDIS. For a brief moment, Angel knew, he had thought that he would look forward to the day when Clara wanted to stop the adventures, so he could go off and do something new and not HAVE to come back to Earth each week for their trips. Part of him had tried to push her away, a tiny part of him, maybe he had subconsciously lumped Clara in with every other 'pudding brain' at times to make it easier when that moment inevitably came…or perhaps to nudge her in that direction in the first place.
Humans promised forever, but never actually saw it through.
Now that Clara actually was asking them for her last trip, he was regretting ever feeling that, because now he was losing his sister and he didn't know how to handle that.
Angel shook herself from her thoughts and turned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, hoping she helped even a little with enduring the situation he'd found himself in now.
'Always,' was his reply in her mind.
~8~
Two chefs were hard at work in the kitchen car of the train, getting things prepped for the morning, making sure they were well stocked on caffeine, lord help them all if their patrons didn't have their morning coffees.
One of the chefs looked up, nearly jumping back when he spotted a mummy, the Foretold, standing across the room, "What's that?"
"What?" his partner looked up, glancing to where his friend was looking and frowning at nothing.
The first chef backed away when the Foretold reached out with a jerking motion, a breathy growl emanating from it, "What IS that?!"
~8~
"But that's the great appeal, isn't it?" Moorhouse was speaking, grinning excitedly at the Doctor and Angel.
However, the Time Lords were a little less giddy, the Doctor looking at Angel as she began to frown at something…
~8~
The chef backed away even more forcefully, knocking into things as he went, the rest of the kitchen staff eyeing him warily. HIM, not the creature coming at him.
"Can't you see?" he begged of them.
~8~
"Earth legends are such dry, dusty affairs, and always fiction," Moorhouse huffed, "But up here, in the stars…"
Angel looked away slowly, like she was seeing something on the floor or listening for something on the other side of the room.
~8~
"What are you talking about?" the second chef tried to approach him, confused and alarmed.
"Get it away!" his friend shouted, waving his arms to try and keep the thing back.
~8~
"…anything's possible," Moorhouse finished, "That's why I chose this field, to be honest, hoping one day I might meet a real monster."
"Isn't that everyone's dream?" the Doctor asked, if just to keep the man talking, though his own attention was on Angel as she tensed. She was feeling something building, but it was just on the cusp of her grasp, "But you still haven't answered my riddle. What's the most interesting thing about the Foretold?"
"Well, you can't run from it, that's for sure. There are accounts of people trying but it never works. No matter how far you run, it's always right behind you."
~8~
"There's nothing there!" the second chef insisted.
But his friend could not be comforted, "Can't you see it?!"
"Calm down."
The man grabbed the nearest thing to him, a knife, and slashed at the Foretold, desperate to keep it back, "Get it away! Get it away!"
"What's wrong with him?" the second chef turned to a handful of security that ran into the room.
"Get it away! No. Get it away!"
The second chef jerked forward when his friend bolted for the freezer, trying to stop him from locking himself inside, "What is going on?"
"Stumpy, open the door," one of the staff came over, knocking on the door, trying to get him to open it.
"Yeah, open the door!"
Stumpy, the poor man, let out a startled scream when he turned around to see the Foretold behind him, IN the freezer with him.
"Get out!" he could hear his friend shouting to him, but he paid not heed to it, backing away as the Foretold reached out for him.
"He's unhinged!" one of the staff was yelling.
Stumpy tried to jerk back as the creature grabbed both sides of his head, causing him to scream even as he slid down the wall in one last desperate bid to escape it's hold.
"No!" the chef called, hearing the noise, "Stumpy!"
~8~
Angel slowly got up off the Doctor's lap, moving around the car, his eyes on her even as he spoke with Moorhouse, "Nope. Even colder."
Angel paused at that word, cold…she felt cold. Why did she feel cold? If it wasn't her…WHO was cold?
"Alright," Moorhouse shrugged, "I give up, you tell me."
"Mrs. Pitt, the old woman who died…"
Angel moved over to the wall of the car, reaching out to touch it, expecting it to be freezing to the touch, but it wasn't…
"She died of old age," Moorhouse argued, "Nothing supernatural."
"No," the Doctor shook his head, "That's my answer."
"Her death?"
Angel shivered as a chill crept up her spine, and gasped quietly, knowing what that meant…
"No. The fact that you were here to witness it."
Angel suddenly spun around to look over her shoulder, before she ran out of the room, the Doctor up and on his feet, following her, in seconds, mere moments before a commotion broke out in the corridors. The Doctor didn't pay much mind to that, instead following Angel as she led them right for the kitchen car.
They came to a stop in the doorway, lightly pushing past a few of the staff that had gathered to see what was happening, Captain Quell was already within, a body of a chef lying on the floor of the open freezer.
"It was a heart attack," the man was saying to the kitchen staff, "And if I hear anyone spreading rumors to the contrary, they'll be getting off at the next station, termination papers in hand. Are we clear?"
Angel's gaze drifted down to where two men had lifted the poor chef and placed him in a body bag, zipping it closed.
She looked at the Doctor, a deep frown on her face, 'It wasn't a heart attack,' she told him, sure, now understanding what she'd been feeling before, 'It was the Foretold.'
The Doctor could only nod, guessing the same.
Well, it appeared this trip just got interesting.
A/N: Poor Clara :( She's so conflicted. On the one hand, she wants a chance at love and feels she has that shot with Danny, but Danny hit that roadblock of the traveling being too much. On the other hand, the Time Lords have been there for her much longer and they're her family :( She's sure she made the right choice, pick travel and lose Danny or pick Danny and still see the Time Lords on holidays. But this trip is making her question and regret :( I suppose the next question will be...what will Clara actually choose at the end? }:)
But lol, look at the Doctor actually TRYING for a non-dangerous trip lol :) His luck is never that good :D
Some notes on reviews...
I had issues with Clara as well this season, especially when Danny came around and then after she lost him :( That's why I like fanfiction and having so man OC series, I can explore different perspectives of the characters :)
True, I got the impression during some scenes with 11 that he maybe fancied Clara. I feel like 10 might have done that for Rose if he'd had time to think about it and it wasn't so instant. But then Donna came around and it sort of set him on the healing track. 12 definitely was more attached to Clara and I sort of didn't want him to go after Clara, because it wouldn't be fair to future or past companions how far he went for her but probably didn't/wouldn't go for them :( 10 and Rose gave me the impression of both liking each other but not saying while 12 and Clara could be a ARE they? so it's always cool to see the different ways emotions and connections are portrayed between new Doctors :) I'm not much a fan of any companion with the Doctors though so I was fine with 10 and 12 not ending up with Rose or Clara :)
I'm glad you liked TL6 :D
Thank you for letting me know! :( I took a quick look now and I agree, it's plagiarized :( I will be working on gathering evidence, screenshots, and then I'll be posting it on tumblr and the next chapter and reporting them. Thank you for letting me know though :'(