"You called what number?"

Explaining this to Iris was going to be, admittedly, a confusing situation. She had not mentioned the strange woman, with the wry smile, and the icy eyes, to anyone. The picture of monochrome who had strode through the rain and into existence, with her ruby-red umbrella and lipstick, and who had handed Lizzie a business card with a phone number – until then, she had remained solely in Lizzie's memories. However, that was going to change.

The two of them were in the Doctor's TARDIS, alone. Iris had said that she was using it to prepare for her driving test, and so had dropped her mum and dad off for a nice meal. However, it was probably not the best idea to allow a learner driver loose at the wheel of a TARDIS, and the Doctor and Cioné had only realised the irresponsibility of their actions when the first course had arrived. Iris assumed that was business as usual when you had an adrenaline junky for a father and a mother who blundered through life being scatty 100% of the time.

"When the universe ended," Lizzie casually explained. "And I was with Maggie, and you came to pick me up – I waited like, five seconds to wave Maggie off – and then this woman came up to me, and gave me a card with a number on, for when I wanted to know more about dealing with Evangeline."

Iris nodded understandingly, although she seemed to have very little idea as to who the mysterious woman had been. She was also not surprised Lizzie had decided to phone the number – she had witnessed, first hand, the consequences of what Evangeline had put Lizzie through, and so Iris knew how much this meant to her. Whether it was the right decision, who knew. But there was no harm in trying, and Iris would be with her.

"Where are we going?"

Lizzie did not need to consult the note she had left for herself – it was a place name that had stuck firmly in her mind. "Palem Blue. The Mansion."

"Oh yeah," Iris observed, almost certain she'd heard of it. And so, she fumbled her way around the controls, trying to figure out how it all worked. She did sort of know, but when Dad had been explaining it to her, she'd been distracted by something more interesting. Eventually, she found a screen and pushed some buttons and typed in some coordinates, and then pulled down that big lever

"Do you know what you're doing?" Lizzie asked her.

"Nope," Iris shrugged.

"Right…."

That was reassuring. They both hoped that if TARDIS' were flown wrong, they didn't… punch holes in the space-time continuum, or something. However – they seemed to be flying, at least. And it was a bumpy ride, the sort Iris' father decided to preside over, and so both of them had to grab onto the console to stay upright. A minute or so passed, before the TARDIS ground to a halt.

It was silent, then – until Lizzie took a deep, shaky breath. Now was the moment – time to find out more about Evangeline Cullengate. A woman who she barely knew, and yet someone who had managed to impact her life in so many ways. Outside of the doors someone waited for her, who knew who she was – and yet, Lizzie had never met her before in her life. Lizzie hesitated, deciding that this wasn't going to be something she could prepare for. She would just have to go for it.

Lizzie nearly jumped when she felt Iris' hand on hers, which she hadn't realised was gripping the console so tightly. "You sure about this?"

Lizzie thought about it – something potentially dangerous that the Doctor didn't know about, regarding grim memories she'd tried very hard to forget. "Nope."

"I'll be with you, yeah? Not just now, but always."

"Yeah…" The way Lizzie said it made her sound vacant and distant, which she wasn't. In fact, Iris' words meant a great deal – to know that she would be there beside her. And she knew Iris held their relationship in especially high regard. Family was important to Iris.

Lizzie took a deep breath, and walked over to the doors of the TARDIS.

Gently, she pushed them open.

The Mansion, on the planet Palem Blue, was rather beautiful. A long, gravel driveway led up to the grand house in front of them, a hodgepodge of all architectural designs – towers, turrets, chimneys. Windows of steel and stained-glass, walls of brick, walls of stone, all bundled together to create an almost hybrid-castle.

There was an eerie wind in the air – the sort that comes from a completely flat plane, stretching on for as far as the eyes can see, with no hills or undulations at all. As Lizzie stepped out, she felt vulnerable, and alone. There was nothing to hide behind – to all sides of her, there was an extensive nothingness, perhaps going on for infinity, the chalky whiteness of the horizon merging with the flaring orange of the sunset. The never-ending fields were, however, occupied.

With flowers.

Fields and fields and fields of flowers, going on and on forever. Crimsons, turquoises, azures, maroons, indigos, gold, silver, sunny yellow and snowy white, a mix of wild and planted flowers, bringing a peculiar life to what felt like a dead landscape – for there was a strange absence of any activity on that strange world. The Mansion, in its fields of flowers, was completely alone, and there were no signs of life at all.

No noise. Just the silence.

"Oooh."

Iris was already halfway down the driveway when Lizzie took her eyes off the setting sun, striding towards the big house with burning curiosity in her stride.

"Hold on a sec," Lizzie awkwardly jogged after her.

"This planet is beautiful," Iris spun on her heels, gazing at the blanket of stars slowly peeping from the sunset, as a dusky evening crept over the looming house.

"And also potentially a bit dangerous," Lizzie caught up with her.

"I love new worlds," Iris murmured, as she held out her hand, and a butterfly fluttered down from nowhere and perched on top of it. Iris watched it with a look – a look highlighting a love of all things living, and an awe and wonder, of someone who truly loved the universe. Lizzie wished she could give it the same look – but the house was a bit too imposing, and the sky a little bit too grey.

"Come on," Lizzie urged her forwards, desperate to just… get in the house and confront whatever it was she was preparing to confront. "I want to get this out the way."

The butterfly fluttered away, and then that chilling state of lifelessness returned. So, Lizzie and Iris made their way down the driveway, the impending house growing ever closer.

When they arrived, Iris pushed the doors open with astounding confidence. Or at least, with as much confidence as the doors could bear, as they were too great and too heavy to swing open with a self-assured clatter. Instead, they shuddered forward slightly, and Iris sighed at the anti-climax, before ploughing into them.

"Yo!" she declared, striding into the main hallway of the Mansion. Lizzie anxiously followed behind her, her eyes scanning as she entered, picking up on every little detail. The floor was chequered, crafted from black and white tiles, and far above their heads was a great arched ceiling, an exquisitely crafted chandelier hanging down above their heads. It was not in use – the sole light in the room came from the crackling flames in the ornate fireplace – a great frame of marble, merging into the chimneybreast, upon which hung a painting. It displayed a silhouetted figure, crouched in a white landscape, alone but for a series of red tendrils crawling across the floor. It was peculiar – unlike anything Lizzie had seen before.

The warm light from the fire was just out of reach of the figure sat beside it in the armchair. She was slim, her legs crossed, her hand propped up on the arm, fingers twisting and curling. Briefly the light danced over her hands, revealing blood-red nail varnish on perfectly-done nails. The woman seemed small in the hallway of the Mansion – but it was a huge hallway, with a gigantic staircase forming a runway to the upper echelons of the house. There were several doors leading off to other parts of the Mansion, and other than the woman's armchair, the only furnishings was another armchair opposite, and a glass coffee table in front of the fireplace, a stark edition in contrast to the antiquity of the interior.

And there was a piano.

A great grand piano, sat beside one of the towering windows, looking out over the miles and miles of flowers.

The woman rotated in her armchair, revealing her face to Lizzie – as she did so, the woman seemed to grow in stature, belittling the house surrounding her. And yet, the woman hadn't changed.

The first words she spoke were quick, cold, and to the point – but they were not what Lizzie had been expecting.

"You play?"

The woman gestured to the piano.

"Yes," Lizzie replied, just as curtly.

"Good. Play something."

Iris nearly spoke, but she didn't dare, as she caught sight of the woman's eyes staring at her. There was something about her… some unearthly presence, as she sat there, just outside the firelight. She was almost… kept alive in her own pale, white, ghostly light, barring the red dashes that came from her lipstick, nails, and heels. Late 20s, perhaps, she glanced over at Iris unwaveringly.

Lizzie, meanwhile, carried herself over to the piano, and perched on the stool, close to the edge. An awkward silence followed, as she wondered what to play. There was always something awkward about playing for people – especially small audiences. Lizzie had a tendency to get halfway through a piece and just stop, saying that the piece just went on like that, even if it didn't. Lizzie, however, knew that she needed to play something well. So, she went for her favourite piece of music. I Giorni, by Ludovico Einaudi. Lizzie found her place on the keys, illuminated by the final remnants of orange sunlight, and she began to play.

The sounds of the keys reverberated in the heights of the hall, as steadily, Lizzie played the piece. It was her favourite – and so not only did she play it well, she played it with honesty, and she played it with love. The music came from inside her, her fingers and the piano merely the tools to make it into something the woman could hear. The woman, who sat back in her armchair, staring into space, and listening. Iris, meanwhile, hovered on the far side of the room, watching Lizzie from a distance, hugely impressed.

The room became captivated, united under that umbrella of music, and for six minutes the atmosphere became electric, as Lizzie's playing transported them to somewhere else, some… unearthly plane, the sort that can only be discovered through music.

And then it came to an end.

Lizzie stared at the keys, for just a bit longer, before glancing behind her to see the reaction of the strange woman. She didn't say anything, and so Lizzie tentatively got up and hovered by the piano.

"Why did you want me to do that?" Lizzie eventually asked.

The woman paused, but she did not hesitate – she knew what she was going to say.

"You."

That took Lizzie by great surprise. "I'm sorry?"

The woman spoke as if it was obvious.

"People inject themselves into what they do. I was reading you. Seeing you for who you truly were, and not who you told me. I didn't need you to play well, I needed you to play honestly. I'll take your case."

Thank god Lizzie played a piece she loved.

"Sit," the woman gestured to the armchair opposite her. "Your lapdog will have to stand."

"Oi!" Iris exclaimed, realising she was the lapdog. "I will bite you."

"I prefer the word sister," Lizzie said. Whoever this woman was, no matter how she was going to help her, Lizzie would not have Iris spoken to in such a way. The woman ignored her, however, and Lizzie sat in the opposite chair.

"Elizabeth Darwin," the woman spoke as if she were feeling the words in her mouth.

"Wait," Lizzie interrupted. This was going to go her way – and not the way of the sinister woman sat opposite her. The woman stopped, and looked up, arguably looking quite pleased that Lizzie had interjected in such a way. "I need to know who you are. How you know me, and how you knew where to find me."

"Who I am is of no concern to you."

"I think it is, actually. How did you know where to find –"

The woman held up her hand and Lizzie was instantly quiet – the woman exuded an authority, even with the smallest of gestures. "One question at a time. Due to your incessant pestering, the authority in this interrogation has returned to me."

"Who are you?" Lizzie returned to her original question, strangely enraptured by the woman – perhaps that was why she was adhering to her advice.

The woman relented – but Lizzie knew that it was deliberate.

"My name is Emma. I'm a private investigator."

"Why did you come to me?" Lizzie asked, remembering back to their first meeting, on that rainy day when the Doctor had come to pick her up.

"You're interesting."

Not the most detailed explanation Lizzie had ever heard, and as she looked over at Emma, Lizzie knew she was lying. She was a good liar, though. However, Lizzie was not going to keep on at her. She had much more pressing business to deal with – the main reason she'd phoned. Lizzie had to get this out of the way, she didn't want it haunting her any longer.

"Do you want me to expl –"

"I already know," Emma spoke as if Lizzie were merely being irritating. "You want information on Evangeline Cullengate and you want to know where she is."

"How did you –"

"Cullengate is unreachable," Emma seemed to have already begun on the investigation. "Nobody can contact her, nothing can get into Downing Tower, not even a TARDIS –"

Lizzie had no idea how she knew that – but then, it seemed obvious. A woman as clever as Emma, and one would pick up on the slightest of details. Why would Lizzie be there if a TARDIS could get to Downing Tower? They could find Cullengate instantly.

"Also," Emma continued. "Nobody has seen her for months. All her major speeches have been broadcast from her office, none of them in front of an audience. She's shutting herself away."

Fear, Lizzie thought. They'd destroyed Cullengate's greatest weapon, they'd promised to overthrow her regime… why else would she go suspiciously silent?

"Yes, Elizabeth. I'll research Cullengate for you. I'll find where she's gone."

"And payment?"

"Do not worry about that. Your trust in me is your payment. That will be all, Elizabeth. I'll be in touch."

Taking the hint, Lizzie stood up and hesitantly walked away. Emma turned and stared at the flames, watching as the wood beneath them burned, crackling, spitting, slowly dropping away, bit by bit.

Lizzie and Iris left the hall, and Emma didn't look at them as they did so.