Thanks to everyone who's left reviews so far, much appreciated! Now, because I haven't had enough time or motivation to do sufficient research into this, seeing as it's only a fanfic (translation: I'm a lazy sod), I got one pretty important detail wrong – Privates didn't fly planes in the RAF. Thanks to David Alan Abramczykfor pointing this out to me and for providing me with the correct ranking system. Henceforth, Private Arthur Frobisher will be Sergeant Pilot Arthur Frobisher. I would change the first chapter to fit, but a) I don't know how to do that without deleting the entire story, and b) I really am just lazy.


Chapter Four

Bright, winter sunlight greeted the Doctor and Rose as they finally emerged from the network of tunnels and found themselves, rather oddly, by a roadside. A quick glance around confirmed to the Doctor that they were indeed by the White Cliffs – in fact, right now they were standing on top of them, with the imposing shadow of Dover Castle behind them and the murky Channel ahead of them. A fierce clifftop wind whipped Rose's hair about, and the Doctor pulled his coat tighter around him as he approached an ambulance unloading a patient.

"Sergeant Pilot Arthur Frobisher," said one paramedic, looking up at the Doctor, "shot down over the Channel. Shrapnel wound to the abdomen, left side. No other obvious injuries." As the first paramedic pushed the stretcher out of the ambulance and the second one pulled it out to make a trolley, the first paramedic peered suspiciously at Rose. She tugged at her hair self-consciously and tried to manoeuvre herself so that she was hiding behind the Doctor. At least he looked like he blended in. Clothes weren't Rose's strong point when it came to trying to blend in. In fact, Rose just wasn't very good at blending in at all. It hadn't been so much of a bother with the last Doctor, seeing as he had never blended in much either, but this Doctor had chosen such a timeless outfit that he seemed to fit in wherever they went.

"Who are you, then?" the first paramedic asked gruffly. The Doctor glanced back at Rose before going forwards to inspect the patient.

"I'm the Doctor," he said, looking down at the man on the stretcher. What was his name? Frobisher. The Doctor frowned. Something here wasn't right.

"Oh, you're the new fish?" the first paramedic confirmed, his expression clearing. Rose grinned. Clearly, getting in would now be a lot easier than she'd expected. If she and the Doctor pretended that these people were meant to be expecting them, they could move around freely without arousing too much suspicion.

"Well," the paramedic continued, mistaking the Doctor's silence for a confirmation, "this should start your shift off nicely. He's all yours. Follow me, I'll show you where everything is."

And with that, the two paramedics wheeled Frobisher down the tunnel, past a row of signs to point out the different sections of what was clearly a hospital, and through a door marked 'Operating Theatre'. As they walked, the paramedics continued talking at the Doctor, who was busy giving Frobisher the once-over with his sonic screwdriver.

"He was shootin' down some Nazi scum over the Channel when one of 'em fired a shot at him and blew his wing off," the first paramedic was saying. Rose listened intently as the Doctor merely glanced up. "His plane crash-landed half a mile from the British coast."

"Yeah," the Doctor said dismissively, "that's great, but –"

"Just as well it was the British coast and not the French Coast," the second paramedic butted in, "'specially with Dynamo last year."

"Dynamo?" said Rose. "That some kind of new aeroplane or something?"

"Have you two not been briefed yet?"

"Not as such, no," the Doctor admitted, smiling up at Rose.

"Best get on with it," the second paramedic said briskly. "Admiral Ramsey's office is on the floor above. And don't worry about Frobisher here, the Chief Surgeon can keep an eye on him. The Admiral don't like to be kept waitin' when there's new fish to worry about."

The two paramedics took Frobisher into the Operating Theatre and dumped him on the operating table. Expecting the Doctor to follow them, they strode out quickly, but the Doctor remained by Frobisher's side, still intent on examining Frobisher's wounds more thoroughly. Noticing that he wasn't moving, Rose, cleared her throat to get the paramedics' attention. The first paramedic walked slowly into the room, occasionally glancing at Rose in a questioning manner.

The Doctor carried on circling Frobisher and probing him gently with the sonic screwdriver, the frown lines in his forehead becoming deeper and deeper. Eventually, the paramedic could contain his curiosity no longer.

"What's that, then?"

"What's what?" the Doctor asked, still examining Frobisher.

"That," said the paramedic, pointing at the sonic screwdriver. When the Doctor didn't answer him, he continued. "That stick thing. What's it doing?"

"Just checking his vitals," he replied, still frowning intently. He finally finished his examination and straightened up, scratching his head.

"Look," he said, finally turning to face the two paramedics, "are you sure it's a shrapnel wound? I can't see any shrapnel …"

"Well, you wouldn't, would ya?" said the second paramedic. "It's in his side!"

"Is it?" the Doctor said disbelievingly as he double-checked the readout from the sonic screwdriver and frowned at Rose. Rose knew that frown well. That frown meant 'Something is wrong here and I am determined to get to the bottom of this'. The Doctor was clearly not convinced by the paramedics' judgement and sighed.

"Yes, well," he said, "I'm sure the surgeon will back me up …" He frowned down at Frobisher once again before looking back at the paramedics

"Alright," he said in a crisp tone, "you two go and alert the surgeons of his condition, and make sure there's a nurse to keep an eye on him until then. I'll just need to consult my assistant here on some medical matters. So, if you'd be so kind as to leave us alone, that would be fine and dandy by me."

He put the screwdriver away as the two paramedics, thoroughly confused, walked briskly out of the room. Checking that there was no-one else around the Doctor leaned in closely towards Rose, speaking in hushed tones and glancing occasionally at Frobisher to check his condition.

"His heartbeat's getting faster but his pulse is slowing down," he said, speaking quickly and with a definite note of urgency. "I think there's an internal wound somewhere in his abdomen but I can't be certain without checking him out. Now, I need you to go back to the TARDIS and –"

"Doctor," Rose said, interrupting him, "I think he'll be ok." The Doctor looked back incredulously, slightly shocked that she had interrupted him mid-flow. "I mean, if that ambulance brought him here, then this place must be some sort of hospital, yeah?"

"Well, yes," he said, unconvinced, "but –"

"Well, they'll be able to sort him out here then, won't they? Let's just get back to the TARDIS and re-set the destination, everything's under control here."

"Rose, look, just do me a favour – go back to the TARDIS, go on the computer and look up 'Operation Dynamo'. I'm sure there's something in the mainframe about it. I've heard about it somewhere before …" He trailed off, apparently lost in thought, muttering to himself. "Dynamo … Dynamo … it's something important, something really, really important …"

Rose was, by now, thoroughly confused. She could see no reason why the Doctor was being so vague about this. She also couldn't understand the reason behind the Doctor's newfound stubbornness – everything here was clearly under control, even if it was odd that there was a hospital in the middle of a cliff.

"But –"

"Go into the TARDIS, down the corridor, left, second left, second right, left, through the double doors and down the slide. Switch on the computer. Username's 'Doctor', password's 'jelly babies'. I'm sorry, Rose, but I need to find out what's wrong with Frobisher," the Doctor said, in a rush. Throughout his little speech at her, he took off his coat, hung it up on a nearby peg, checked Frobisher once more for good measure and straightened his tie before walking briskly away to get himself a surgical gown and mask. Rose sighed and rolled her eyes. Much as she hated to admit it, there did seem to be something slightly fishy about Frobisher's accident. Deciding that there was nothing that she could do about the Doctor's stubbornness, she opted to do as he said and look up this 'dynamo' thing. Now that she came to think of it, 'dynamo' rang a bell for her too …

She wandered through the tunnels, lost in her own thoughts and lost in wondering about why they had ended up here. She wondered exactly why she had chosen World War Two again (admittedly, part of the appeal had been Captain Jack, but she had been loathe to admit this to the Doctor). She wondered if Frobisher's wounds really had been caused by shrapnel. She wondered how the Doctor was, inevitably, going to save the day. She wondered what she would do if she couldn't remember the way to the TARDIS computer.

She wondered where she was.

Bollocks.

She'd become so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed where she had wandered off to. All these tunnels and corridors all looked the same to her. She glanced around, checked a few doors and yelled out for help, but all to no avail. Biting her lip nervously, she set off slightly further down the tunnel.

"Ouch!"

A tall woman in a smart blue uniform rounded the corner and bumped straight into Rose. The woman dropped the large pile of papers she was carrying, sending them flying everywhere. She shrieked and scrabbled over the floor to pick them up.

"Sorry, let me help," Rose said, bending down to help pick the papers up. "I'm Rose."

"Margaret," the woman said, giving Rose a brief smile of thanks. They picked up the papers in silence and as she walked off Rose briefly stopped her.

"Umm … do you work here?"

"Yes, I'm one of the telephone operators. I work in the receiver station," Margaret said, puffing herself up proudly. She smiled gently at Rose. "Are you lost?"

"Yeah, I am …" Rose sighed. "I'm looking for my …" My magic spaceship that takes me anywhere in time and space, that looks like a Police Box, and that is piloted by a 900-year-old alien? Yeah. Right. "Oh, never mind. I've just … lost my way," she finished, a little lamely.

"I did that on my first day, too," Margaret said sympathetically. "It's frightfully difficult, finding your way around, isn't it?"

"Yeah …" Rose said, smiling back. "Look, I don't suppose you know where the Admiral's office is, do you? Only me and my friend – well, we're, erm … new … and we got told to get debriefed by the Admiral."

"Admiral Ramsey?" said Margaret. Rose nodded. "Yes, his office is just through here – turn right at the end of this corridor, right again, left, right –"

MORE directions? Rose's dismay at having to remember more directions must have shown on her face, because Margaret suddenly stopped and smiled gently again.

"I know," she said. "Daunting, isn't it?" A thought seemed to strike Margaret as she grinned at Rose. "Would you like me to take you?"

"Thank you SO much," Rose enthused, "that'd be wicked …" Margaret suddenly looked very affronted, and her smile disappeared.

"Don't be silly," she told Rose crisply, straightening her back. "I know Admiral Ramsey can be mean, but that doesn't make me a bad person for taking you to him!"

"What?"

"Well, there's no need to call me a wicked person for it!"

"No," said Rose, exasperated. "I meant … look, it doesn't matter." She sighed again and forced calmness into her voice. "Thank you very much for offering to take me to the Admiral's office. That would be very nice of you."

Margaret looked rather suspicious of Rose. Rose tried her best to remain impassive, simply smiling fixedly at Margaret. After a while Margaret, narrowed her eyes.

"That's quite alright," she said. Rose sighed inwardly at this acceptance of an apology. "It's this way, follow me." Margaret stalked off down a corridor, leaving Rose to try and keep up. This was going to be one of those days.