To Tegan, having a fight with Turlough was like having a bowel movement; you could rely on having at least one a day. And for some reason, each time, Tegan felt slightly relieved afterwards, like standing in a fresh breeze after a storm. Tegan studied her redheaded 'friend' as he walked in front of her, while some sort of mapping tablet bleeped away in his hand. He'd avoided eye contact since she'd woken up, which was honestly nothing new, but she'd also begun to notice him sneaking the oddest looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

It was beginning to irritate her.

Not to mention that dream.

She could only recall vague snippets, flashes that teased and licked her mind from behind.

Which only made her more irritated.

She was, she realized, getting just a little sick and tired of people from every corner of the Universe unloading on her. It wasn't her fault that she was 'just a human' who wanted to 'just be an air stewardess'. Honestly, what was the big deal? It wasn't like she was trying destroy the Universe… how many of them could say that?

What was she trying to prove? She wasn't a warrior… She had absolutely not desire to fight and kill things…

"Is this the best you can do?"

The flash of the dream tickled her skull, the face- her face, her other face looking askance in the dissolving airplane. Tegan remembered being shocked, helpless that even she wasn't on her side. No one was on her side, the losing side, the completely useless side…

And then the dream was gone and she was walking down the road again under the sweltering summer sun, her feet clicking painfully on the asphalt.

And why the hell did she keep wearing fashionable heels? They never landed in the middle of a wine and cheese tasting. She always ended up getting shot at, always. Perhaps they were all right, she'd never learn.

Mind you, she could outrun a Cyberman in heels. How many people could say that?

Like to see a Cyberman dominating the universe in a pair of three inch Minolos…

Tegan began kicking any pebbles unfortunate enough to be within striking distance. It was hot, 98 plus yuckily hot, that certain kind of yuck that plastered her bangs to her forehead, made every square inch of her blouse sticky and tight and her head began to throb under the blazing sun. She glanced over at the Doctor, who didn't seem phased in the slightest, his head bobbing up and down merrily as he pelted down the road with huge, happy strides, the soiled metal turtle strapped to his back with frayed bits of cable. The thing must have weighed fifty pounds, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, while she had to partially jog to keep up with him. Her toes were killing her.

It wasn't fair.

There were certain questions that Tegan didn't really have to ask. She really didn't. But sometimes, just sometimes, asking the questions that irritated the hell out of the Doctor really made her feel just a little bit better. "Are we there yet?"

The Doctor sighed and pause for a moment, turning in the middle of the road, shielding his eyes to stare around at the far off houses, dirt tracks and fields. "I've really no idea," he said eventually. "Turlough?"

Turlough walked slowly back towards them, the tracking device glowing a faint amber. "The signal is weak, but it's somewhere around here."

Tegan had woken after the shuttle had landed, stumbling down the gangplank and into the shade of a copse of trees that Turlough had parked the craft near for shelter. It only now occurred to her to ask, "Where are we anyway."

"England, 1928," muttered Turlough as he twiddled at the device, yet the flashing lights remained unchanged.

"Try zooming out," the Doctor suggested as he adjusted the cables that clamped the alien pod to his back. "The geoprobe you deployed in orbit should provide imagery on the correct scale of be of assistance..."

Tegan watched him and made herself ask another question that she really didn't want to know the answer to… "What are we going to do when we find her?"… she had the feeling she knew what he was going to say: 'improvise'.

"Improvise!" The Doctor enthused. "I'm sure we'll think of something; the problem is she'll be here soon," he squinted in the sunlight as he gauged its position. "Imminently, I should think if I know my old girl."

"I'm assuming you're referring to the TARDIS," grumbled Tegan.

"Doctor!" Turlough blinked at the display. "Why are we in eastern Hungary?"

"What!" The Doctor snatched the device out of Turlough's hands, almost overbalancing under the weight of the pod. "We shouldn't be… we're not… oh dear."

There was a long pause.

Silence stretched on…

Tegan began to count: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Turlough matched her gaze, and they were once again joined, equal as the Doctor's companions, their earlier quarrel forgotten in their solidarity of not being Timelords. Tegan knew he hated these moments just as much as she was, but she was damned if she was going to ask this time, not with this migraine.

Turlough sighed and rolled his eyes. "What's wrong Doctor?"

"Everything's changing, the dimensional instability… continents shifting, have shifted will shifting, different probabilities, different times, everything's being ripped apart, we're in the coordinates we're supposed to be but the world has moved under our feet, literally. Look at it now, we've shifted to the Yucatan."

Tegan stared around at the quiet fields and the grass that swayed with the soft summer breeze. "Why can't we see anything? Why isn't it affecting us?"

"We seemed to near the middle of a focal point…" The Doctor gazed around him. "We haven't got much time before the instabilities become permanent and rip the planet apart. We have to find her now. We'll need to split up," he jabbed at the center of the display with a pale finger. "But keep heading towards the center."

Turlough watched his two companions fork out away from him, and rubbed his neck, slick and salty in the English summer heat. Mexian… whatever. He sighed. "And three guesses who we'll find there…"