Chapter 7.

I Want a Lot of Things.

It was all very terribly eerie outside. Beyond the solid barriers surrounding the town, and beyond the solid dome up above, there was a thin mist settling over all the streets. The Doctor wandered from the town hall and ran his hands through it, watching it dance around in the air like wisps of smoke that refused to dissipate. But what was it made of? Certainly not water vapor. It was too organized. It was meant to float around and fade away, not hover in the air.

He walked the town center over and over, looking down each street, assuring himself that the barrier was not moving. But it was growing foggier out. It was becoming more like a dream. Everything was hushed. No birds singing, minimal light, no breeze. It was impossible to know what time of day it was, and on what day.

Suddenly the sound of hooves started up behind him. He ducked to the side as a massive, magnificent horse trotted past and vanished just as quickly. It was like a ghost, like a memory, completely shrouded in the mist.

He started noticing more images appearing around town. He saw the same dog at the tailor, and then walking along the barrier, and then jumping over one of the beautiful mosaic walls. He saw beams of false sunlight, and piles of grain and meat that were never there, and supply wagons passing by, all of them completely made of mist. It was fascinating. It was telling. He was already forming a theory, and this one was the best yet.

And then he saw her.

She was on the road that lead to the lake. He would have missed her, had he not heard her mournful cry. He was captivated, walking closer, trying to make out the finer details.

It was a woman, created of mist, hovering on the street. Her eyes were hard to distinguish, but the line of her mouth was clear. She was sad. She was very enormously sad. He heard whispers of a voice all around him, and then she faded like all the other images.

He knew what was happening.

The Doctor went back to the town hall and banged on the front doors. "Let me in! I need to talk to my friend!" He waited, finding only silence. "Samuel, I know you're in there!"

His voice replied, "You are not permitted inside. Stop knocking at once."

The Doctor groaned. Leave it to humans and their fear to banish the only person who could help them. If there was one thing they were good at, it was destroying anything even moderately different from themselves – new ideas, new people, different species.

He circled the building, finding a back door and giving it a quick pop with his screwdriver.

He found Grace, Henry, and Polly inside, all looking at him like he was insane. Grace had a split lip and one of her eyes was darkened.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, coming in and shutting the door behind him. They were stored away in a little supply room off the main hall. "Did Samuel put you in here? Did he hit you?"

"No." Grace gave Henry a sharp look, and then bounced up to the Doctor. "What happened?"

He wanted to know what had gone on while he was gone, because there seemed to be a bit of secret keeping going on between Grace and Henry, but he saved his questions for another time. "I think I know what might be causing this, but it's a little complicated." He winced, realizing he had a great deal more to explain to Henry. "Er, let's start with me not being from around here. I'm not. I'm from outer space. Up in the stars. I walk right on among them."

"Like God?" Polly asked, sitting up from a nap. She climbed into her father's lap.

"Er, no. Sort of. The point is, other things live up there, loads of 'em, and I think one of them is causing this." He got his own chair, joining them in a little circle of three. "Have you ever heard of genies, Grace?"

"Yeah. Three wishes, right?"

"Right. This is similar. It may have even been the reason those legends started up. I think we're dealing with a swarm of wish-makers."

Grace cocked an eyebrow. He had already lost her. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. They're what I classify as 'emotional scavengers,' beings who feed on the emotional energy of everything around them. Usually they're harmless, but when they encounter a very powerful desire, they can begin to clump up. These particular scavengers are wish-makers – I've never found a real name for them, so I sort of named them myself – and they're unique in that they take these wishes, these desires, these great and overpowering wants, and make them manifest."

Grace was shaking her head. "That's impossible."

"Yeah, but what if it wasn't? Imagine these tiny little things, living their lives following little patches of distress and joy, dotting the entire planet and very much enjoying the rise of humans as a species – imagine them finding an incredible food source and clustering up around it, and combining their normally minute abilities into a very powerful weapon. Imagine that they could corral their feeding source, like we do with cattle, and feed on them indefinitely."

"So you think…? They're corralling us?"

"Maybe not on purpose. It might be purely physiological. Or maybe whoever their drawn to has a desire so strong that it's pulling them in like moths to a flame. They simply can't resist, and that dome out there is them trying to keep their distance."

"Doctor… did you hit your head while you were outside?"

He waved her off, looking to Henry instead. "Can you think of anyone who might have a desire like that? I saw some manifesting while I was outside. Er, a big horse running about."

"Aside from the one that ran into the mist, we had to put a mare down last week. Her owners were torn up about it." Henry wrapped his arms more tightly around his daughter.

"And there was a dog, on almost every street. Same dog."

"Lovely," Polly squeaked.

"Her dog," Grace supplied. "She lost her dog."

"Okay. And there was a woman."

Grace looked at Henry. "Do you think…?"

Henry looked at the floor. "My wife was killed years ago, but-"

"That would be enough. It's taking your desires and making them manifest. But something much stronger is fueling the rest of this. We need to find out who is in extreme distress in this town."

"Let me go and ask the others if they know anything." Henry stood, hefting his daughter into his arms.

The Doctor lingered in his seat, wondering something for himself.

Grace watched him with that eerie recognition, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"What is it?"

He shook it off, glancing at the back door. "I want a lot of things. I just hope it doesn't latch onto them."

"Yeah, me too."

The Doctor watched the door, his curiosity budding out of control. "But I wonder…" He got up, cracking it and staring out at the thickening mist. Grace followed him into the street. "It wouldn't be real, I know… but I could just… look at it. See my memory come to life. It's been so long."

"So long since what?"

He hadn't told her yet, and he wasn't sure if he could. Sometimes when he looked into her eyes he saw the leaves of Gallifrey, the leaves of the odd little tree that lived on his favorite hill, and his hearts were lifted straight out of his chest. His longing to go home again was the most severe he had at the moment – it transcended everything. It sometimes made him feel lost and empty inside, like a thousand years of wisdom would not be enough to guide his actions.

But no matter where he walked, he saw the desires of the townspeople coming to life, and never his own. Slowly, gradually, he gave up hope of seeing his home again.

Grace took his hand in the town center. "What were you looking for?"

"Something I lost… that I'll never get back." He looked at her, and, briefly, got a glimpse of those leaves in her eyes. It seemed to be the last fragment he would ever see, and little as it was, it made him feel better. "I never told you, but my home… my people… they're gone."

Grace nodded, interlacing their fingers. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "So are mine."

She was right. Her whole life had been wiped out. Her family, her friends, her experiences – all of it had been reset, and she had a new one, but it would never be the same. She was more like him than he had imagined. He also realized that he had helped it along. He had caused her to be in this state – she had said it herself. He was the one who changed the timeline in the first place. Her pain was because of him. It was just another red letter on his record.

And again she picked up on what he was feeling, and tilted her head, like when she had listened to the whispers of the TARDIS. She frowned. "Why are you guilty?"

Because I destroy everything I touch.

He stammered. "I'm not."

"Okay." She let off an unspoken 'you don't have to tell me,' and smiled at him.

He shook away his surprise, determined to get to the bottom of all of her mysteries one day. "We should get inside. I want to talk to the group again."

"Last time they threw you out."

The Doctor put his free hand to her chin, tilting her face toward him to look at the damage to her lip and eye. "I wish you would tell me who did that."

"To be fair, I started it." She flashed a smile. "Besides, we have a job to do."

"We do." Again, compulsively, he kissed her forehead, cherishing this quiet moment between them. She was a bit wild, and sort of unpredictable, and still very strange, but she was also precious, and strong, and fierce. And he found himself trusting her despite her secrets.

What was life without a little mystery?