.

Love, Laugh, Die

Author's Note: Maria's hometown is a fictional one; it's quite literally the Irish Gaelic word for "refuge." Although it turns out it's a neighbourhood in Cork, it's not a real village.

And I'm so horribly sorry this took so long, but I'm back at school and as it turns out, they don't take pity on you in first year uni when you come back in the winter term and take it easy on you like they did in September.

Also, a sort of disclaimer: There's a line in here lifted and adapted from the movie "Genius" with Colin Firth, but it's quite short. I'd tell you what line beforehand, but, well, as River Song would say, spoilers.

Chapter 9

…

The Doctor woke up in an uncomfortable position, half-slumped against the wall by the head of his bed. Rose had fallen asleep, too, at the bed's foot: she'd been sitting normally and had tipped over sideways. Platinum blonde hair spilled over her face.

The Doctor groaned and winced, massaging the small of his back as he forced himself into a standing position. His sleep-fogged mind groped about and slowly reformed last night's events.

Oh. Fantastic.

He reckoned Rose would have an earful to give him when she woke. A pointed jibe at least.

Might as well let her rest for now, then.

The Doctor leaned over and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Her nose twitched slightly and she batted at his hand. The Doctor felt something like a smile tug at the corners of his lips even as he straightened and sat down at his desk. He pulled his sonic from his inner pocket and absently fiddled with it, eyes drawn to the faint blue glow emitting from its tip.

"Stupid thing hums, y'know." Rose's groggy mumble came from behind, and the Doctor turned around.

"Morning to you, too."

"Did I seriously fall asleep here?" Rose scrubbed a hand down her face. "Don't matter now, I guess. 'cept 'm all stiff now. Oh, Doctor, listen. We need a plan. You got that? One that doesn't involve you dying."

The Doctor nodded once. "Been thinking about it."

"Well, there's an awful response if I've ever heard one," Rose deadpanned. She stood, groaning and rubbing her back. "We've gotta think. We ain't got – the usual resources, so we're gonna have to work with what we got, yeah?"

He nodded.

"And Maria. We ought to find Maria. We're gonna need her."

He nodded again. He was only bobbing his head up and down. It was simple, a straightforward, physical process.

"So. If you've really been thinking, then share those thoughts."

The Doctor thought. He hated thinking when people asked him to, and it wasn't easy without the usual omnipresence of the TARDIS, resting in the back of his mind and near, always near, but he thought anyway.

At least he thought quickly. After a minute or two of maintaining a pensive, thoughtful expression on his face to keep Rose satisfied, he clapped his hands together. "We got to find Maria. Completely agree." He laced his fingers together now, leaning against the desk. "Listen. I haven't got the… usual resources, like you said, but I brought some stuff with me."

"All right?"

The Doctor allowed his features to form a grim expression. "You're probably not gonna like it from here." She looked instantly suspicious, and he sighed. "We've got to speak to the creatures." Before she could protest, he raised a finger. "And seeing as we're trusting Maria – which we are, totally and completely – then we'll discuss it with her."

Rose looked nervous, but she nodded slowly.

"Fantastic. Well, that's settled, then." The Doctor gave a bright grin and pushed off the desk, strode purposefully towards the door, and swung it open. He looked up and down the passageway – deserted, and for certain this time, thank God – then marched towards one of the staff panels on the wall and pressed down on the button.

…

They had to wait nearly ten minutes for Maria to arrive. The laundry-maid did so in a flurry of apologies – "I'm sorry, it was just really hard for me to get away – they weren't sure they wanted us staff members running about tending to passengers' simple needs – "

"'s fine," Rose smiled easily. "Come on inside." She jerked her head in the direction of the cabin room, and Maria followed.

The Doctor was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in a devil-may-care sort of position. Maria and Rose took their seats at the desk chair and on the bed, respectively.

"So… do we have a plan, then?" Maria wanted to know.

"Sort of," Rose shrugged, casting the Doctor a glance. "We know we don't want to make any sacrifices, at least." This last she enunciated with a pointed look. "Now we're trying to work with what we've got."

"No… sacrifices," Maria repeated slowly. "Well, there's a start."

"It wasn't a sacrifice," the Doctor muttered under his breath. Rose elected to ignore him.

"Anyway," she said smoothly. "The Dyrfain want to establish their new empire on Earth, yeah? And they need to store essences, gather enough energy, like the Doctor said. They're presenting us with two choices: either take the Doctor's more powerful essence, or keep takin' lives of passengers and crew until they got what they need."

"I remember," Maria nodded. "So… if they took the Doctor's essence, nobody else would have to die?"

"Nobody on the ship," the Doctor corrected her. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "not quite as simple as all that, though."

"How d'you mean?" Rose frowned.

"Time Lord essences are powerful," he explained. "My people were among the better-known races of the universe, in their time. Hardly a civilisation that didn't know us. That adds on to their strength. Leads to inflated egos, too," he added. "Anyway, there's a whole bunch of factors that contribute to our essences being as strong – and desirable – as they are, but that's one of 'em. Anyway, one o' the problems the Dyrfain have with humans is that, for all your benefits, you lot are ridiculously cut off from the rest of the universe, 'specially in this century. You don't even know about the Time Lords, and it's one of your weaknesses as essences."

"You mean – "

"In an uncultured race like yours, even knowledge of other races actually adds to the strength and power of your essence. Knowledge is a powerful tool, after all, and knowledge you shouldn't have… Anyway, combine a human and Time Lord essence, and with the Time Lord being dominant, you've got something pretty bleedin' powerful."

"Like a hybrid?" Rose pulled a face.

"No, no." The Doctor shook his head. "Just knowledge of a Time Lord can make a human essence incredibly strong, more filling and a better energy source'n just any old thing. Almost as powerful as a Time Lord essence itself, though still a decent ways off."

Maria sat forward. "So you're saying… "

He seemed to catch himself then. "I'm sayin' it's in your best interest to be careful," he said sharply. "Both your essences are desirable far as the Dyrfain are concerned. They're after me, and I'll do, but they wouldn't complain about having a little extra. And you really have got to be careful. See, the Dyrfain have got this little trick – haven't you been wonderin' how they acquire their victims? Lure the fly into the parlour, like Maria said? They don't well drag 'em down to the engine room kicking and screaming. Their nobles are the strongest as psychics; they've got the ability to go inside a person's mind. They extract thoughts and memories and morals, and from all that, they choose a form to acquire that'll best lure their victim to wherever they them want to go."

"And it could be anything? Anyone?"

"Nah, not quite. They couldn't take the form of, say, your mum or best friend if that's what you're thinking. Too specific. Instead, they take on the form of a representation of whatever'll work best on you. Like if you were some bloke whose wife died. The Dyrfain wouldn't take the form of his wife, just that of a woman. …One universal form. Even the bloke wouldn't necessarily see his wife, not even in his own head – though it does depend on the person, varies from individual to individual – but it wouldn't matter. And chances are the tug's been getting stronger and stronger with each person who's died. The Dyrfain get stronger over time, see, stronger as psychics and telepaths. They've got plenty of races – like Time Lords – worked out perfectly fine, but somehow I reckon they've never encountered a human before. There's an adjustment period – though they learn pretty quick. 'course, all that's for a person who didn't know a damn thing about the Dyrfain. Not sure how it'd work for someone who had their defences up, like you two, or a… person willing to die."

"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? None of us is going to offer ourselves up," Maria said forcefully.

"Right," he caught himself. "Doesn't matter. Best to forget it. Anyway – "

"He really was considering offering himself up, wasn't he, Rose?" Maria turned to her. "Really… considering… " When Rose nodded, once, solemnly, the laundry-maid spun on the Time Lord. "We all know that isn't happening. So let's think of something else. Have you got any little Time Lord knick-knacks?"

"Not anymore," the Doctor deadpanned, and Maria had the decency to look sheepish. "Though now that you mention it – " his expression morphed, and a light kindled in his eyes – "I might have something or other… " He patted around his chest, then thrust his hand deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"Your… energy-reading thing?" Rose cocked a brow, and the Doctor wrinkled his nose and shook his head as he began to produce from his pockets all manner of things that should not have fit within their limited depths, all of which he tossed onto the desk – a dumbbell, an Icelandic dictionary, a small device that looked to Rose like a transparent video game controller with unusually tiny buttons, a set of keys so large it must have weighed several pounds, a few bananas and banana peels – until suddenly he shook his head, muttered something to himself in what could only been his own tongue, and picked up the transparent video game controller, having apparently not realised he'd discarded it. He now held it up victoriously, as one might a key, a little grin on his face.

"This old thing," he said. "Had it for ages 'n' forgot. Might prove useful." That familiar expression was spreading across his features, eyes brightening, grin spreading. He was thinking. For real this time. "Simple enough to operate, pair o' you should be able to work it out with no trouble."

"Care to enlighten us, Doctor?" Rose said.

"It's sort of an energy-reading device, yeah. Not like the other one, though. That one was mostly for tracing and tapping into levels of psychic energy, tracing waves of its flow. This thing's different, invented it myself. Ages back. Blimey, I was practically a kid – probably why it's so easy to operate. Anyway. It works like this." the Doctor held the device out in front of him, then passed it to Maria to hold. Maria, looking nervous, wielded it as he had done, turning her head from side to side so as to study it. The Doctor rambled on, seemingly speaking faster with each word.

"It's essentially a follow-up to that other bit o' rubbish. A sequel."

"A… sequel." Rose repeated.

"Well… yeah. See, I made it with that other thing in mind. If you're in a certain environment – preferably an isolated, enclosed environment, which luckily we are – and you've managed to trace levels of psychic energy down to a very particular location, you can tap into those energy readings, like a hacker. We can monitor every wave of psychic energy coming out of the engine room in precise detail, even narrow things down so my energy signature doesn't mingle with the Dyrfain's and mess things up. We just don't enter it into the equation, and there you go."

"Your energy signature?" Rose narrowed her eyes. "But if we're only tracing the… energy waves or whatever from the engine room, then they wouldn't be part of the – equation at all."

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm heading down there."

Rose threw her arms in the air. "Not this again!"

"What? I did tell you that you weren't gonna – No, no. You don't understand. I'm not about to head down there to offer myself up, or whatever you're picturin' in your little human head. Really. Just gonna negotiate. Got a way with words, me. And – " he cut Rose off as she opened her mouth to protest – "if they don't… agree to talk peacefully, then I've got a backup plan."

"Which is?"

"Destroy their machinery." He gave a nonchalant little shrug.

"That's… actually clever." Maria had been silently studying the Doctor's invention, but now she spoke up. Rose, not getting it, turned to her in puzzlement, and the Irish girl elaborated. "If they don't agree to the Doctor's terms, then their own work will be completely destroyed. They'll have nothing to build on, and if anything they'll be set back and we'll have time to think." She smiled at the Doctor with something like respect. "You're a real pacifist, aren't you?"

His breath caught, but he nodded once.

"What are your terms, by the way?"

"Oh. Haven't decided yet."

When Maria looked incredulous, Rose laughed. "'s normal. This idiot here's used to winging it, and he's good, too. Well." She sighed, slapping her hands down on her thighs as she stood. "Worth a shot, yeah? Now show us how your latest bit o' space junk works."

…

Neither Rose nor Maria could pretend to understand the details of the workings of his own energy-reading device. Occasionally he would spit out complicated formulas, long strings of numbers intermingled with words that must have had at least ten syllables, and Rose couldn't be certain they were all in English. That he spoke as he sonicked and sometimes violently shook the device – "working," he called it – didn't exactly help. He had a habit of getting like this, of course, but she had to admit even this broke all records.

"Anyway," he concluded, closing Maria's fingers around the device, "essentially what you've got to do is keep an eye on these last three digits here – " he pointed to an all but microscopic panel near the top-centre of the device – and one of you ought to have your little finger on the lever here at all times, unless it shocks you, in which case I'd advise dropping it straight off and kicking it to the far side of the room."

"And… why?" Maria was studying the device with newfound suspicion.

"Means it's overheating, and that's not good. It won't harm you, but the device does rely on some level of energy waves off a sentient, intelligent life form to keep it warm. If it overheats, then that means your own energy levels are starting to interfere with the readings."

"You sure we're cut out for this?" Rose tried. "I mean, you seem to know what you're doin'. Us, not so much. You do realise we have no idea how to read the, the energy levels or whatever?"

"'course you do." The Doctor was indignant. "I explained – "

Rose raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"Oh. Right. Human. Sorry." He sighed impatiently, and gestured to the device again. "In a unit of measure you're not and never will be familiar with, this old thing measures levels of psychic energy, yeah? What really counts is the last three digits – there's always gonna be slight fluctuations, nothin' to get worked up about, but if there's any significant changes, these last three digits will display it. So if the first one drops or spikes, keep your guard up. If the second one drops or spikes, or if the first one starts to fluctuate rapidly, then give me a ring." He tapped his breast pocket where he was keeping Maria's phone, borrowed and modified with a bit of jiggery-pokery.

"And you'll come back?"

He nodded. "I'll make some excuse."

"And you're sure it works?"

"Mostly, yeah."

Rose paused. "So what does it mean if the last three digits change?"

"The Dyrfain's psychic energy levels are kept mostly stable. 's how they work. But if there's a significant change, it means they're preparing to – well, you know. Probably they'll try to catch me off guard with it."

Rose closed her eyes. "Why don't I totally trust you?"

"Because," the Doctor replied, "you should never trust anyone completely." He paused. "Unless, you're trusting me, of course." He clasped her hand a moment. "And I do you." Then he stood, their fingers slipping apart. "Ready?" Without waiting for an answer, he grinned at her. "Be seein' you, then, Rose Tyler."

She had to grin back. "Yeah. See ya."

"And Maria – " he addressed her as he turned to her – "you ain't got rid of me yet."

She smiled, raising her chin slightly. "I wouldn't want to."

"Right." He paused, eyes darting between the two of them for a moment. "Like I said. Be seein' ya." He patted his breast pocket, where the phone was situated, gave them one last grin, and then he opened the cabin door and slipped out, closing it behind him as he went.

A final question sat on the tips of both their tongues, one that had gone as unanswered as it had unasked. Both women were aware of it. The question worked its into the air, a stray thought. The room was soon swollen with it.

What did it mean if the last digit changed?

…

It was funny, he reflected, making his way down the stairwell to Deck A. The extents to which people went to trust him. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Rose was letting him – trusting him – to head down here alone.

Ha. He knew he'd made a good choice inviting her to travel with him.

Good old trust. Good old friendship.

Not that he actually was handing the Dyrfain his life, mind, all wrapped up in pretty brown paper. The Doctor had told more than his fair share of lies, but he really did mean to negotiate with them, grim though the prospects seemed.

The Doctor was one for doing things on a whim. But on every adventure, every quest, in every situation he stepped into, he always had some semblance of a plan, a final chip to play. Today, he had a plan, and he had a Plan B, and he had a Plan C, the lot of them worked out neatly in his head in a pretty little list. His energy device would keep Rose and Maria occupied, though technically it was fully accurate and functional.

Also funny – he'd exited the stairwell and walked the full length of Deck A's passageway. Now he was crossing the threshold of the watertight door into the engine room, had gotten there without even noticing. Even funnier, the door was open, but he couldn't for the life of him recall whether he'd opened it himself or if it had been that way to begin with.

He began to walk, his stride steady and sure, venturing deeper into the engine room. Voices like the fluttering, rustling wings of a thousand moths brushed against his mind, and he did his best to bat them away.

"Hello, Doctor."

The Dyrfain's voice caught him off guard and he spun on his heel to see her standing there just behind him, head titled and smile sweet as ever.

He offered her a curt nod, and she giggled, rocking back and forth on her heels. "We've all been waiting for you, Doctor. How nice to see you."

"Can't say likewise."

"Well, honesty is a good virtue, I suppose." Another airy little laugh. "The Time Lord comes with a plan, I see." She pushed her cheek out with her tongue, then grinned at him. "More than one."

His mind raced. Right, then, terms. An agreement. He laid down the tracks for his train of thought, and after a moment heard the sound of an oncoming steam engine.

He opened his mouth. And then –

A sudden pain in his chest hit him with staggering force, made him gasp aloud, and he saw stars.

He realised he was lying on his back on the cold concrete ground. His mind groped out blindly, trying to regain his composure, his thoughts.

And then he was suspended in midair, and he wasn't thinking anything at all.

…

"How long d'you reckon it's gonna take?" asked Rose anxiously.

Maria was still holding onto the Doctor's energy device, little finger on the lever and both eyes on the number panel. "I haven't the foggiest." She hesitated, then her gaze slid upwards to meet Rose's. "You're very worried for him."

"Well, yeah, 'course I am!" Rose was immediately indignant. "He's done some… he's done stuff that's completely mental before, but not like this."

"You don't trust him completely, then."

"No. 'course I don't."

"Well, of course you wouldn't." Maria inclined her head to the side. "I don't either. I'm just as scared as you he'll do something – rash."

That sounded like the Doctor. Rose had to admit she was impressed with Maria. The Irish girl had known him for just a few days, but it seemed that already, it was just as well as Rose did. Rose had been travelling with the Doctor for – well, it had been a few months now, she reckoned – and felt as if she was still discovering him. She tried to think back to the earliest days of their travels together: Cardiff 1869 and Platform One.

Or maybe their adventures had just been simpler. Maybe she'd just been lucky.

The problem with this journey, she reasoned, was that there wasn't nearly enough running involved.

It was Maria's hand on her arm that snapped her back into the real world. " – yeah?"

Maria's dark brown eyes had grown very wide. "The first digit. It's changed."

"What?!"

With her free hand, Maria pointed. The digit had been a lovely, stable 7 before. It was now an 8.

"So, we just watch, yeah?" Rose let out a whoosh of breath. Her hand went to her jumper pocket, and she fingered the phone there. "Maybe it's nothing. Or, or a mistake. If you're gonna travel with us, you'd better get used to the Doctor makin' all kinds of stupid mistakes."

"Right." Maria nodded. "I suppose. So we just – well, the Doctor did say we ought to keep our guard up, didn't he? And… that's all."

Both Rose and Maria nodded again, as much to themselves as to each other, and waited with bated breath.

The seconds.

Ticked by.

The second digit, once a 4, changed to a 3 in that exact same moment the first digit spiked up one, and then began to flicker frantically between 8 and 9.

"Right. I'm ringing him." Rose surged to her feet, whipped out her phone, dialled the number. She held the phone to her ear.

Ring.

Get out of there.

Ring.

Get out, get out.

Ring.

Come back, come back. Get out. Come back.

Ring.

Doctor, you stupid bloody –

Voicemail.

Rose had to hold back from tossing the phone onto the floor. "He's not answering." She began to zip up her jumper. "I'm going to head down there."

"What?!"

"What, you think 'm just gonna leave him down there?" said Rose hotly. "Sit here, call over and over and cross my fingers he'll pick up this time? I'm gonna help, whatever it bloody takes."

The hesitation in Maria's eyes lasted a mere second. "All right," she said. "All right, you're right. He can't be down there alone. But let me go."

"What - ? No, no way – "

It was now Maria's turn to stand. "I want to go down there."

"Why you and not me?"

"Yes, exactly. Why you and not me?" Maria let out a breath. "If I'm going to be travelling with you two, I can expect to get myself in a fix once in a while, can't I? Expect to wind up having to save his arse every so often. I expect he always tells you 'no,' too, doesn't he? 'No, it's too dangerous.' Well." There was another pause. "You stay here with this old thing. Or don't you trust me?"

Rose faltered. "You're the one holding the energy device," she said at last.

Maria grabbed her hand in both of hers, guiding her pinkie to the lever. Then she took a large step back. "Not anymore."

".. fine." Rose bit her lip. "I'm just scared for ya, y'know?"

"I imagine he's always much more afraid for you."

Rose closed her eyes. "Usually, before he heads off to do something completely stupid, we hug."

"There," Maria smiled, "I haven't got any objection." She stepped forward again, embracing Rose tightly, drawing her close, and Rose returned it with a fierce one-armed hug. They let go a moment later, stepping back. "Oh – I ought to leave you this. Just in case." From her pocket she removed an access card for the lower decks. "I've got a spare."

"Just be careful, yeah?" Rose managed.

Maria smirked. "Do the pair of you ever do careful?" And then she was gone.

…

Maria had never been down to the lower levels of the ship. She'd never had cause to. The stairwell leading down to Deck A had been ill-lit enough, but now she found herself plunged into true darkness. She wondered if she was supposed to feel as though she was being watched.

The watertight door at the end of the passageway was ajar. Whether the Doctor had left it that way or whether it had always been open, Maria couldn't guess. A pale sliver of light poured from the crack, a mockery of a beacon. She made her way towards it.

Her footsteps resonated on the cold concrete floor. The acrid air burned her lungs, her throat, made her eyes water. Still, she marched on. She swallowed down something like bile that had begun to crawl its way up her throat as she neared the door. On reaching it, she paused for a moment, peering around it to see if there was anything she could see.

Or hear, for that matter.

Though she could make out vague shapes of what she could only presume to be engines, the angle at which she was peering into the room offered very little. And in terms of sounds…

There was nothing. An absolute and utter nothing. Just the dull, droning, monotonous hum of the engines fulfilling their duty. She could not hear the Doctor's voice, no trace of the steely Northern burr she had quickly warmed to.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

Gathering her breath, her thoughts, and her courage, she slipped past the door into the engine room.

She squinted slightly at the sudden brightness, but felt no need to shield her eyes. She stopped for a moment to take in the view. Hulking masses of engines towered over her on either side like sentries.

But there was no sign of the Doctor. Squaring her shoulders, she ventured deeper into the room, turning in a random direction. After taking a few steps, she thought she could make out something like whispering. She picked up the pace, barely acknowledging where the engines had been defaced.

The almost-whispering grew louder, a tapestry of hushed voices reeling her in.

A right turn, and then she saw him – the Doctor. He was lying on his side on the floor, curled in on himself ever so slightly. His eyes were half-shut, and he made small moaning sounds. She rushed to his side, his name on the tip of her tongue, grabbing his hands with one of her own, grasping firm hold of his shoulder with the other. He was cold.

He moaned, lids fluttering. He made a sound that might have been an attempt to utter her name. "Doctor – " she began.

"Maria."

She startled, head snapping up. She could not have imagined how long the creature standing over them had been there – perhaps the entire time. Vaguely she was aware of her thoughts lagging behind slightly, mind growing sluggish.

Nor could she have begun to describe the creature. It was humanoid, she supposed. Slim build, dark hair to its shoulders. At gunpoint, she might have said it was a woman, but it could just as easily have been a man, or a child. In truth, it was more of a blank slate, a painter's anatomy mannequin, and her mind flicked from one understanding of it to another. The only consistency was how very wrong it was; empty eyes and chalk-white skin marred by cracks and fissures that spread across its face.

She stared at the creature, unable to tear her eyes from it.

"How interesting." The Dyrfain's voice was a honey-sweet hush, crawling up Maria's spine, and clinging to her skin from the inside. "You are unlike the others. I can enter, but I cannot settle on a form for you. I shall have to explore that mind further. How exciting for myself and my kin! And what a meal you shall prove."

She tensed, but glowered up at the Dyrfain, shaking her head to clear the fogginess there.

"I won't be a meal for anyone. I'm here for the Doctor. What have you done to him? Let him go."

"But we've already started our machines up," replied the Dyrfain, lower lip sticking out in a childish pout.

"I don't care whether you've started them or not."

"Of course, if you would prefer it, it would only be too easy for us to let the Time Lord go. A shame, but hardly a challenge. If you would have it, we could just as well claim the essences of another dozen or so passengers and staff." The Dyrfain hummed contemplatively. "Perhaps that would be for the better, no? After all, they're all just ordinary folk. The Doctor is special."

"You," said Maria, voice trembling, will not claim the lives of anyone else. I'll… I'll destroy your precious machines. Where you, where you store the energy of those poor people you killed. And then you'll – "

"Spunk. Some of my kin find it a bit too sour, but I rather like the taste of it." The Dyrfain shuddered, and Maria suddenly felt as though she were naked, exposed. She crossed her arms over her chest, sparing a quick glance at the Doctor. His eyelids had fluttered shut again. "You are such a noble little human, kind and – brave. Silly me, to think that Maria would sit back and let innocent people die. The Doctor is fond of you, after all: he and his friends are remarkably alike when it comes down to it. There is always another option, you know."

The Dyrfain vanished and she gasped. Then its voice sounded from somewhere deep within the room, where the engines were built so tall they cast the space between them in shadow. It was dark there, and unexplored. Though she could not see, she could sense the Dyrfain standing there. Waiting for her.

For her.

Nobody else on this ship will have to die.

The knowledge of a Time Lord.

Maria closed her eyes, kneeling down again to brush a hand along the Doctor's cheek. He stirred slightly. Looking closer, she could see the lines of his face were pinched in pain, even in his semi-conscious state.

Not sure how it'd work for someone who had their defences up, like you two. Or… a person willing to die.

It would not solve the problem. But it would give them time.

"You've already started your machines up," she said, rising once again. "Is that right?"

She could make out a humanoid silhouette if she squinted into the darkness, nothing more. And she was, too, aware of the creature's broad smile. Affirmative, then.

"I know of the Doctor," she said softly. "I know he is a Time Lord. I am completely and utterly human, and I know that there are complex, advanced races and civilisations spreading across every corner of the universe. My essence is filling, and powerful. So. My life for his. What do you say?"

"It would be my pleasure," the Dyrfain crooned. "Come closer, then. Shh. This way… "

Maria inched forward another few paces, trembling. "A long time ago," she whispered, and her voice quavered too, coming out weak and almost pitiful, "when we, my people, cloaked ourselves in furs, and animal skins, and lived in caves, we would gather around the fire and tell stories. So we wouldn't be so afraid in the dark." She swallowed. "I'm afraid. So let me tell my story."

Her heart began to beat faster, its pace more frantic, as if trying to escape the ribcage that contained it. A cage was a cage, after all.

"My name is Maria O'Sullivan. I am twenty years old. I was born in Ireland, in the town of Dídean. When I was a wee girl, my mam would sit me on her knee, and she would tell me stories. Stories of the faerie-folk, and of leprechauns, and pixies, and tricksters. Whether or not they existed in the real world was all up to me, and I would spend my childhood jumping streams and climbing trees looking for them. But it didn't matter whether they existed or not. Not really. What mattered was that I sought them out. And maybe it wasn't the faerie-folk and leprechauns I was looking for at all. Maybe I was just chasing out a story – that's what counts, isn't it? All this time I thought it was about them, but it wasn't. It was about me. I was looking for my story. I've been chasing it all these years. And tonight I've found it."

The voices closed themselves around her as she inched towards the darkness.

The deep and lovely dark.

Who could resist?

"This is the story of how I stood up."

Her chest felt as if it were about to burst.

"I am not standing up for the whole of humanity or Earth. I am standing up for individual, innocent people, each one on their own. I am standing up against your actions, and for what I believe is right. I am standing up for myself, and for my friends and family. I am standing up for my dad, and my mam. I am standing up for the Doctor, and for Rose, and for the lives of the people you already took. It's not a bad way to go."

"Yes. Yes. Shh. This way…. "

"And maybe," she continued, her voice raising even as it trembled all the more, and she suppressed a soft sob as it worked its way up her throat, "maybe my story will go forgotten and untold. Maybe my story will be lost to the winds. I imagine it will. But it doesn't matter, because I am telling it now. And it is mine." She stared defiantly.

There was something like a smile on the Dyrfain creature's face. It reached out a hand in welcome.

Maria took a final step forward, and the darkness and the Dyrfain and the voices embraced her.