A/N: Edited. 09/04/14 TW for assault and (mild) attempted rape.


-1349-

-The Plague-


Calypso stumbled through the thickets, her shoes had long since worn holes through the soles and her feet bled freely as she walked. She didn't care though, nor did she care that her dark hair now looked matted and tangled, or that she probably smelled like the sewage in the streets. None of those things mattered to her, because she had lost everything. There was only the plague now, only death.

Six years she had spent rebuilding her life after she had lost the convent. And it had been a good life, a good home. Her mind lingered on those memories, just for an instant. But it was too much, too hard to think about, knowing it was all gone. She didn't want to see his face, or remember the bloated corpse he had become. She didn't want to remember how she had spent days in the room with him, begging the disease to take her too. But it didn't, and they had finally come for his body. She'd lost the strength to fight them off, but that didn't stop her from screaming obscenities at them as they did so.

She felt hot pinpricks in her eyes, but she didn't fight, she was too exhausted, and too empty to cry any more. She held out hope that the earth would open up and swallow her whole, if only she could walk far enough. Distance herself from the pain and the agony that had snatched away her joy.

"Oi!" A man's voice called from the road she had crossed. She paid him no mind. "Got us a beggar woman!" He called as though to his friends. Somewhere in the part of her mind that continued to stuff scavenged roots and water down her throat, a warning went off. But she couldn't have run, even if she'd wanted to. Her limbs were thin and useless, only her bitter anguish kept her on her feet, moving forward. In the hopes of finding some end.

"Hey!" He was closer now, perhaps he had followed her into the thickets. "Look 'ere!" When she refused to look back, she heard the whistle of a stone wing past her shoulder. For a moment she felt her misery transform to rage, bubbling up to replace the shell she had become. The urge to turn and hurl stones at him until she fell exhausted rose up, and then died bitterly. She couldn't make herself care.

All she had was the hope that someday she would fall, and then she would see him again, her Anthony, one last time. To see his smiling face in the next life, that's all she wanted. She was done with this world, and its confusion.

The next stone caught her square in the back of the head, the pain was sharp and she gasped as the world spun. She stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. She heard their scrabbling feet approach as they surrounded her, no doubt the kind of scum who had taken to thieving those too ill and weak to fight them off. She cursed them as one of them kicked her shoulder, knocking her to her side.

"Next time you'll mind me when I call." A squat balding man stood above her, a cruel grin on his lips. He added another kick to her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. He laughed as she curled around protectively, trying desperately to catch her breath. "Looks like a witch," he announced to the other two men that were nothing more than gray blurs to her. "Only one thing for it." His tone was deadly serious and that caused her to look up at him again. She could see it in his eyes, he wasn't just some bandit, he was a monster. There would be no mercy from this man, only a painful death. A part of her was grateful, after all, this had been what she wanted. But she tasted bile in her throat and felt fear course through her veins.

He struck her in the face with a heavy fist, "Don't look at me, witch eyes." He spat in her hair, but she couldn't focus. The world had reduced to star-burst patterns and clawing fear. Her fingers grasped the ground, struggling to crawl away from the man. She should have run, she wouldn't have gotten far, but she should have run. Her efforts now were useless, one of the men grabbed her by a handful of hair and hoisted her to her knees. The bald man kicked her in the stomach again, and then connected his knee with her mouth. She tasted blood as another fist connected with her ribs. No matter where she tried to defend herself, they found another, more vulnerable place to strike.

Anthony. She repeated the name in her mind as a mantra fighting the pain that overtook her. She was too weak, she couldn't fight them away. Angry frightened tears streaked down her cheeks, but it did nothing to stop the men.

"Why ain't she screamin?" The man who held her hair asked. "No fun innit?"

"I'll give her something to scream about," the balding man said with a smug grin. He reached for his belt and nodded to the man behind her. "Hold her down."

She shook her head, she couldn't make her voice work, but she knew she if she could she'd be reduced to begging. She didn't want to die this way, broken and screaming. She'd wanted peace. They weren't going to let her have that. She reached up with her broken nails and raked them along the man's arm and face as he tried to pin her to the ground. He shouted and swatted at her, but another took his place. The bald man laughed and kicked her in the ribs sharply, the vicious pain stilling her. She felt her tunic rip and she continued to thrash, but she could already feel the strength leaving her.

"Oi! You lot!" She heard a woman's voice calling in the distance. Run. She begged the woman. Run away. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" The grip on her shoulders loosened as the men turned to see who was daring to interrupt their fun.

"Mind your business whore!" The balding man shouted at the newcomer. He turned back to his men with a grin. "We'll be with you shortly."

Before they could continue, something whistled through the air, striking one of the men above her in the shoulder. His grip released as he stumbled backward, staring at the shaft that had buried itself in his arm.

"Next one's in your throat." A man's voice warned them. It was the first time Calypso dared to hope, his voice wasn't a threat, it was a promise.

"Just a witch 'ere!" The balding man was unimpressed, he hauled her up by the back of her neck. She could barely see the two figures on the road, but they were armed. Another arrow fired across the gap and the man had to throw himself to the ground to avoid being at the pointy end of it. Calypso didn't have the strength to stand on her own, and so she fell too. The man who'd already been shot was stumbling away, and the third had joined him in fleeing. The balding man looked at Calypso with a snarl, and then he too was running. For the first time she could remember, she felt something other than misery. She felt relieved.

"I'll 'ave you!" The woman shouted at the retreating men as she grew closer. "Always wanted to say that." She rolled Calypso onto her back as gently as she could, her grin replaced with a look of concern. "Blimey, they're right scum. Are you alright?"

Calypso swallowed, more tears coming unbidden. She was so exhausted, so tired from fighting and running. She couldn't answer her. She saw the man blur past as he nocked another arrow, ready to fire into the distance.

"Oi! Doctor, leave em. I think she needs proper help." She turned her attention back to Calypso as she brushed the hair back from her face. "Can you speak sweetheart? What's your name?"

The man knelt next to her, pressing a cool hand to her forehead. "It's alright," he reassured her. "We're going to get you help." His hand stiffened against her face, and she could see the intensity of his eyes boring into her. "Calypso?" His voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke it, and she wondered absently how she could have told him her name when she couldn't open her mouth. "Calypso is that you?"

"You know her?" Donna looked up at the man, concern in her voice.

"I-I…yes." His voice shook as he pressed a hand against Calypso's cheek. There was something familiar about his voice, and his warm brown eyes. Something that Calypso was struggling to place in the slowly darkening thoughts.

"Doctor?" she mumbled as her eyes finally closed.