"It has to be in one of these medical bays." He said, pointing to the map in the hallway.

"Why?"

"Where else would you put a cure?"

"No, I mean, why do you think the cure is here? What if they're not terrorists and they're just infected? Where is everyone? The ship's empty."

He pursed his lips. She had a point. He smiled broadly. He would be hopeful for both of them. "Eternal optimism, that's why. Come on, let's find the cure, and then our hosts."

The Verloc spaceship was a generation ship – this wasn't a vessel for short trips, they lived and died onboard. As such, it was enormous. Slow and steady. Meg told herself as breathing became harder and more painful. Deep breath, and hold, one, two, three, four- out two three four.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Her hands formed white-knuckled fists by her side. And out, two, three, four.

"You know, I didn't believe you the first time you said that, but relatively speaking you were."

"In your medical opinion, Doctor, do you think that excessive complaining ever got anyone anywhere?" she snapped.

"No, but hiding your symptoms from me could make things worse."

"How so?" Meg said through her teeth.

"What?"

"We don't have the anti-lambda, so what exactly can you do with knowing what I feel like?"

"Nothing."

"Well then..." She pushed herself forward, smothering a painful cough. "Let's keep moving."

Without a word he took her arm and put it over his shoulders, helping her stay upright. She accepted the help in silence. Finally, they came to the end of a hallway that read "Medical Bay #9."

"Hang on, why is that in English?"

"It's not."

"I think I know English when I see it."

"You'd think so. It's the TARDIS. She's telepathic. She gets in your head and translates all known languages. It's automatic. Sorry if you're uncomfortable with the idea. It's not as if she came with an off switch – or if she did, she's long since gotten rid of it."

If she wasn't dying, she imagined she would be very uncomfortable, but having a next-gen translator app in her head was the least of her worries right now. "You make it sound like the TARDIS is alive."

"She is."

Meg wiped at her eyes and trembled when her fingers came away bloody. "Doctor…"

"I swear to you Megara Savvides: I will find the cure." The doctor gripped her head in his hands, earnest, but frightened for his new friend. He didn't mean to do it. Slipping into her mind was strangely natural.

There was a plain white room. It was dark there, hot and oppressive. A small child in pigtails was curled up in the corner. Fear, like strangler vines, crept over everything.

It feels like my insides are dissolving. The child whimpered.

That's because they are. The Doctor answered. It was difficult to lie when sharing a consciousness.

The child looked up with a gasp. You're in my head!

"GET OUT!" The child was Meg all grown up now and furious.

I'm sorry.

She threw him out of her mind and slammed shut the door.

"I shouldn't have… it was an accident." Accident? The Doctor was at a loss. I never do that. Who is she? What is she?

"Don't touch me, alien." She growled, pulling away from his grip.

"I'm so sorry." He said again.

"Impressive." A disembodied voice came from a hidden loudspeaker. They both looked up at it. "Megara, I'm sorry to say you don't look so well, but I am glad to see you all the same." There was a long pause before he greeted the Doctor as well. "Still alive and trespassing I see, Doctor. I can save Meg. I have the anti-Lambda. Bring her to the center of the ship. I'll be waiting."

Nothing the Doctor said brought another word from the mysterious helper. There was nothing left to do but obey. He turned to Meg. He could apologize again… he sighed and held out a handkerchief as a peace offering. She took it and wiped her eyes.

"Who was that?"

"No idea. Don't you? He knows you too."

He shrugged. "Figured you're a smaller pool to draw from. How many aliens do you know?"

"Helpful aliens?" she shook her head.

How many bad aliens have you met? The Doctor wanted to ask. She obviously knew more than just the Verloc: she was taking their existence way too casually not to have previous encounters. Keeping her reaction to his (accidental) psychic intrusion in mind, he didn't ask.

"…Sorry for snapping." Meg said.

"Don't do that. I'm still going to help you." The Doctor said. "You were well within your rights to do far worse than kicking me out from where I wasn't invited."

She accepted his arm as they left for the center of the ship and hopefully the cure. They kept walking, with still no sign of any other living soul onboard. It was starting to get a ghost ship vibe.

Even with the cart, the Doctor could see Meg's condition deteriorating as the minutes ticked by.

"Not far now," he said.

"Hmmm."

"We'll get you to the center of the ship, and I'll find this person with the cure." He promised again.

"I appreciate your effort." She said woodenly.

"Are you resigning yourself?" he asked, shocked. Was this really the same woman to fight off two thugs, and a Verloc with abdominal injuries? What happened to the spit-fire temperament, death before surrender? "You shouldn't give up."

She chuckled - a wet sound with a cough at the end. "And you shouldn't make promises you can't keep. There are worse ways to die. With the pace this disease is making, you have an hour or two tops to save me. It'll be quick. I like that. And I'm assuming from your behavior so far I won't be alone. I'm just sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances. I'll always be that crazy chick you met and died on you the same day. Please believe me, that I'm not always this damsel in distress."

"Oh, I believe you," he said, pulling into the large open storage warehouse that was the center of the ship — rows upon rows of coffin-like structure filled the space. No one was there waiting for them.

"Hello?" she called. The sound echoed and died out with no response. "The cure is somewhere in here?" Meg asked, feeling exhausted just looking at the task before them.

The Doctor got out and studied the readout on one of the nearest pods.

"What is all this?" she asked from the cart.

"The crew."

"Why?"

He typed into the pad on the side of the stasis chamber. "He's dying of Lambda. And if he has Lambda, it's a sure bet everyone else in here has it too."

"What about you?" she asked, a little ashamed she hadn't asked before.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Well if I'm not, I will be just as soon as we find that cure." If they didn't, the two of them wouldn't be the only casualties – Earth would follow quickly after. He opened an empty pod and returned to help her out of the cart.

"What's the plan?"

"I'm going to look for our host. If you feel much worse than you already do I want you to get inside. If whoever invited us is just jerking us around, it'll give me more time to find your cure." He handed her his sonic screwdriver. "It's already set. Just point and think 'on.'"

She laid her head on the cool surface of the stasis chamber. She didn't relish getting inside. It looked like a coffin and smelled like the Verloc that tried to kill her. Not like the Doctor. He smelled nice, even if he was an alien.

Her thoughts swam and wandered. Her fever made it difficult for her to keep her focus. She shivered. She was so cold. The last thing she wanted was to be cryogenically frozen. Her eyes closed. She wasn't sure how long a time passed, but she felt someone place a coat around her shoulders.

She was too ill to be alarmed. She turned her head and smiled. "So it was you… I knew you'd come for me."

The man touched her cheek. "Always, my dear."

Meg didn't bother asking for the cure. Everything would be alright with him here, so there was no need to prompt him. "How are you in space?" She murmured. She closed her eyes once more and let herself drift into oblivion safe in his arms.