A/N: Alright, so I started out thinking I was going to make this all historically accurate. Gods know why. I saw the facts, I didn't like the facts. So I changed the facts. I'm going to have that printed on a t-shirt in latin and start selling it to historians. Anyway. In case anyone cares. I thought I'd mention it. Additionally, thank you all my fine readers! I really appreciate your feedback!
-1789-
-Versailles-
"Stay here." He warned Calypso with a finger. He was up on his feet and halfway across the grove before she had even realized it.
"What was that?" She stood up, bracing herself against the tree. The scream had effectively ruined whatever peaceful atmosphere the garden had once held. In its place, there was a cold dread.
"Shh." He turned back to her and pressed a finger against his lips. He peered through the leaves of the hedge for a moment before nodding. "Stay here. It'll be alright." He offered a small smile before he ducked through the bushes and disappeared.
"That…man." She fumed in a hushed whisper. She finished her wine in one last gulp, feeling like it was the right thing to do. There was nothing left now but to wait, he would be back. He always was, wasn't he? But that didn't stop her from walking to the very edge of the grass and peering through the bushes where she had seen him last. She thought she could just make out the light color of the gravel path. Though she couldn't be sure it was anything other than the sunlight filtering through, until a pair of shadows flickered past. She stepped back quickly, pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle her gasp of surprise.
"Still seems a bit off." She heard a man speak from beyond the bushes, his voice slightly muted by the foliage. She could hear them dragging something and they came to a stop just beyond the garden. "Killing the servants, I mean. He's just a gardener, isn't he?"
"A friend of the king is an enemy of the people." Another man grunted unsympathetically.
"It's not like it's his fault," The first man continued to argue. "Just lucky to have a job I bet." He didn't seem too thrilled to be involved with whatever they were doing. Calypso slowly crept forward, trying to make sure she could hear them clearly.
"So what are you then, Fernand? A royalist?" The second man's voice was sharp now, accusatory.
"Course not! I'm just saying-"
"Well don't." The man spoke with finality. "The march is nearly here and we don't need any more of these folks in the way then there already are. They'll have enough trouble taking the palace with all them guards out front. It's us or them, right?"
"Right." Fernand said finally in a tone of grim determination. Whatever misgivings he'd had were likely pushed aside by the fear of being caught on the wrong side of his companion.
"Alright. Let's go. Likely to be more out here somewhere." They dropped the thing they had been dragging and she could hear their footsteps retreating the way they had come. A march on the palace? Would they take on Versailles just as they had taken the Bastille? People were going to die, people she knew and worked with. And the King. Despite the Doctor's warnings to stay put, she had to warn them. With her hands shaking nervously, she pushed back the branches, trying to be as quiet as she could. When she pushed through the gap, she found the gardener, Henri. His body was sprawled unceremoniously on the path, a weak effort had been made to stuff him under the hedge. His face was pale and the evidence of his death had poured down the front of his shirt in a dark stain. She swallowed back her panic and gave him a wide berth; she could do nothing for him.
She wasn't completely familiar with this part of the garden, but she had been paying enough attention on the way here that she thought she could make her way back to the palace quicker than the two men who had murdered Henri. She finally found herself on familiar paths and knew exactly where she was. Gathering her skirts she prepared to run, needing all the time she could get. When suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and pulled her back toward one of the open gardens. She struggled as she was dragged, trying to scream but her efforts became muffled. Flinging her arms around wildly she spun and caught sight of familiar floppy brown hair. She let out a sigh of relief as she recognized the Doctor, who looked surprised to see her.
"What are you-" But his scolding cut short.
"Did you hear something?" They both heard the voice and froze. It was nearby, much too close. The Doctor dragged her along, his hand still covering her mouth as he ducked behind the curve of the hedges near the entrance of the garden. He pressed further into the leaves, hoping that the man wouldn't think to step inside. The cramped space in the foliage might have been intimate in any circumstance that didn't mean life or death for them both. The Doctor's tall frame shielded much of her from view, but she doubted that would do much good if the man spotted them. She tried to calm her beating heart; it was so loud in her ears that she was certain it would give them away. They heard the man's footsteps on the gravel path as he approached, just barely entering the garden. She could see him, just past the Doctor's shoulder; a pale figure against the green hedges. Her panicked eyes went to the Doctor, but his gaze was locked on the intruder, waiting.
"Hello?" She thought she recognized the voice as Fernand's. He didn't seem to have noticed them; his gaze was looking beyond the fountains in the center.
"Talking to the birds now?" The other man called from beyond the path with scorn in his voice.
"Just thought I heard something, is all." Fernand turned around without a glance in their direction. She felt her heart slowly start to return to its normal state as the silence grew longer and longer, signaling the men had gone. The Doctor finally stepped away from her, and with a warning glare, stepped out onto the main path to make sure the coast was clear. He returned shortly, looking rather angry with her.
"I thought I told you to stay in the garden." His voice was a harsh whisper as he pointed a stern finger at her.
"They mean to kill everyone they come across." She made sure her own voice was lowered. "There's to be a mob on the palace. I think they intend to take control of Versailles." They were headed that way even now, how many other unsuspecting servants would those men come across while they argued?
"Yes. And I told you to stay put." He said very definitely.
"You…you knew?" She shook her head, disbelieving. But then she remembered earlier, how he had spoken of her position being 'obsolete'. When she had questioned him about it, he had changed the subject. "Of course you knew." She said, feeling stupid. The sense of betrayal slithered down her back like an icy rain. When she looked up at him, he didn't even bother to deny it. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have warned them." She glared up at him, her eyes full of fire.
"That's not how it works." He spoke the words softly, but it was as though they were set in stone. "This is a fixed point."
"Why?" Her words were growing louder as the anger swept through her. People were going to die, people she knew and cared about. He could have prevented that. Instead, he had wanted to go on a picnic. "How could you?"
"Because sometimes, that's just how it is." His own annoyance seemed to be growing as well.
"Well maybe that's how it is for you, but it's not for me." She huffed at him, passing his shoulder to exit the garden. She would warn the palace, no matter what he said about 'fixed' points.
"Calypso!" He hissed, but she didn't turn back. He was forced to run after her and grab her arm. It did have the intended effect of stopping her, but the fury in her eyes as she turned on him was probably not what he had in mind. "Calypso, I'm sorry." He said with a labored sigh. "It's not that I wouldn't. But this is a fixed point. This is the start of the revolution. I can't change that, any more than you can." He sounded defeated, as if he had fought battles like this before, and lost. She believed him, but she wasn't ready to give up.
"I can still warn them." She argued. "They have the right to be prepared."
"You could," He gripped her shoulders, but she tried to shrug him off. "But then more would die." He said sadly.
"More?" She whispered a little breathlessly. "How many?" She asked, not really wanting to know the answer. "How many will die?"
"Most of the guards." He said, not quite meeting her gaze. "But most of the staff will be spared. Those who don't fight back, anyway." If he had meant that to be reassuring, he had failed. She felt her stomach twist into knots, all those people, all those lives. And they would all end, abruptly, and likely in fear. But she understood what he was saying then, what her warning would mean.
"If I warn them…" She had to say it aloud, to be sure of its truth. "They would prepare. And they would fight." She swallowed, trying to contain the lump of dread that grew in her throat.
"Yes." He spoke the word softly but it felt like a slap in the face. There was no satisfaction in his voice, only pain. And she could see it reflected in his hazel eyes.
"Then there is nothing we can do." She stared at the ground, demoralized, thinking of those who were going about their normal day, unaware of what was to come.
"Not for them, no." He gripped her chin gently and pulled her gaze back to him. "I'm sorry, Calypso."
"You should have told me." She said, feeling hurt still. Of course, she probably would have made things more difficult, but she didn't care. She needed someone to take her anger out on, and he was there.
"Yes, I should have." He nodded, taking it. It wasn't fair, it wasn't his fault. And yet he just seemed to accept it, as if that was a burden he was used to shouldering.
"What should we do?" She asked in a gentler tone. She wasn't quite ready to apologize, but she knew she should. She tried to push the thought of the mob away from her mind.
"Ideally," He looked over his shoulder. "We get back to the TARDIS." He offered a small reconciliatory smile. "As quickly, and as safely as possible." He added.
"Okay." She nodded.
"Right then," He clapped his hands together bracingly. "And we're off." He strode out into the open, and with a look both ways, headed in the opposite direction of the men. She hesitated only a moment before taking a deep breath and setting off after him. She took a few steps before she was, yet again, grabbed from behind. But this time she had no illusions that it might be the Doctor. The hand clamped over her nose and mouth and she struggled not only to get free, but also to breathe.
"Well, look what we've got here." The man behind her sounded quite pleased and she recognized his voice; he was the one who had been keen for violence.
"Told you I heard something." Fernand came into view, he was an older man, most of his hair had gone white and it hung over his head in thin wisps.
"What's a sweet maid like yourself doing out here alone in the gardens?" She muffled angry threats into his palm, sucking in what little air she could through her nose.
"Let her go." The Doctor's voice was low and deadly as he stood at the end of the path.
"No." The man who held her tight snickered. The Doctor took two long strides toward them, glowering as he came. The man dropped his hand from her mouth and she gasped gratefully. "One more step and I'll bleed her like a pig." His voice was a warning as he held a sharp blade to her throat. The Doctor froze mid step. She trembled as she felt the cold iron press against her skin. Her heart cried out a warning, and she knew instinctively that if this man did cause her to bleed out, she would actually die. She didn't know how she knew, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was the truth.
"Bernard," The old man hissed nearby. "She's a woman."
"She was sneaking around," Bernard shot his partner a glare. "Just like him. Means they're against us. Don't it?"
"Listen to me." The Doctor started to take a step forward, but Bernard jerked her around in his grip and she felt the metal bite into her flesh, a sharp burning sensation followed. It hadn't been deep, or even intentional, but it set her heart racing all the same. The Doctor retreated immediately and held his hands up. "Just listen." He said. "I just want to talk."
"Talk?" Bernard scoffed at him. "You just want to delay us so you can warn the King." He accused the Doctor, but there was little anger in his tone. Some movement out of the corner of her eye caught Calypso's attention. Fernand was reaching for his belt where a pistol rested on his hip.
"No. Not at all. I wish you all the luck in the world with your revolution." The Doctor smiled placatingly. "Honestly. All I want is to take her, and leave. We're not a part of this. And I'm sure we're taking up time that you could be spending…making posters…or guillotines."
"Of course you're a part of it. Dressed like that. You're one of them nobles." Bernard drew the blade across Calypso's throat lightly; she felt the burning pain spread. "I think I'll cut both your throats."
"You don't want to do that." The Doctor's eyes grew darker as he spoke. Darker than she had ever seen them, like the angry clouds of an oncoming storm. "You don't want to even think about doing that. Or I swear to you, Bernard. You will be so so sorry." He wasn't looking at Fernand who was cocking the pistol and looking to Bernard for approval.
"No!" She screamed as she saw him nod once. She slammed the back of her head into Bernard's nose as hard as she could and shoved at his arm. She felt the cold of the blade as it sliced into her, and the scorching agony that followed it. She ignored it as she pressed her palm against her neck and ran for the Doctor, who looked a little bewildered.
"What are you-" He frowned as she approached.
"Run!" She shouted, grabbing for his hand with her free one. They both heard the pistol go off behind them, along with Bernard's angry curses. They flinched and ducked as the gravel near their feet exploded, sending tiny rocks showering into their legs. The Doctor didn't wait for another invitation and with her hand tightly in his own; they took off, rounding the corner. Hoping to buy some time while Fernand was forced to reload. She could feel the warm blood spilling between her fingers as she ran, but she couldn't stop now. If she stopped, the Doctor would stop. She was pretty sure she could feel the tingling in her fingers, the sensation of her escape, but she couldn't be sure. It could be from her heart pounding as they raced through the gardens, or it could be from the loss of blood. There was too much for her to focus on at once, so she just worried about running, forcing her legs to pump fast enough to keep up with the Doctor. She was relieved when they finally turned a corner and she was greeted by the blue box, waiting for them near the center of a small pond decorated with statues. The TARDIS seemingly floating above the water, ready for them. Another fire shot after them and they heard the bullet skitter across the gravel on the path they had just left.
"Close one, eh?" The Doctor grinned at her a little breathlessly, but the amused glint in his eyes faded as he saw her blood soaked hand. "What-you're bleeding."
"Yes." She nodded her agreement as they walked toward the pond.
"A lot!" He exclaimed. Almost forgetting that they were running for their lives.
"It's fine." She said with some effort. "Let's get inside." She stumbled slightly as she tried to climb the marble edge of the pond, but he caught her in his arms.
"Oh," He scowled down at her as he snapped his fingers to open the TARDIS door. Bending down he scooped her feet up off the ground. "You are in so much trouble." He wasn't amused at all as he splashed through the water and carried her to the ship.
"They were going to shoot you," She argued feebly, the pressure she was applying to her neck was gradually growing weaker.
"You cut your own throat!" He scolded her irritably as he set her down gently in the jump chair. "Why've I always got to pick the problematic ones?" He muttered as he turned away, grabbing a towel that had been stuffed beneath the console. "Here," He said more gently as he returned. "Move your hand. This is filthy, but it'll help stop the bleeding." She let him pull her stiff fingers aside and he hissed in a breath as he saw the damage.
"That bad is it?" She tried to smile but didn't really feel up to it.
"It's worse." He said quietly as he pressed the towel against her throat. It throbbed angrily under the pressure, but it was somewhat muted. "What were you thinking?" He shook his head, looking up at her through pained eyes.
"It's okay." Her voice was growing fainter.
"No. It's not okay." He insisted sternly.
"No, look." With a great effort, she lifted her arms so he could see them. Her right was still covered in the same sticky blood that she could feel crusting down her neck, but they both flickered with that yellow glowing flame. As she did so, she felt the TARDIS watching her, somehow, knowing what she was, who she was. She let her eyes drift to the console reluctantly, deep down, she feared that knowledge.
"How did…" He shook his head with a frown. "Did you know?"
"An educated guess." She didn't think it was a good idea to let him know that her educated guess was that if she had been wrong, she could have died. She dragged her gaze from the center of the ship and looked back into his eyes. "It was a nice picnic." She did make an effort to smile, even if it was a weak one. "Thank you."
"Hah." He said without humor. "It was a rubbish picnic."
"It was nice to see you again, anyway." The pain in her throat was fading, along with the feeling everywhere else. She could see the glow rising up around her, enveloping her entirely. The Doctor saw it too and bent forward, kissing her forehead once and pressing his temple against hers.
"Goodbye." He whispered as she vanished.
