A/N: "Why do we fall?" Mr. Wayne says to his small son who just fell down a fucking well into a bat infested cave and broke his god damn arm. "So we can learn to pick ourselves up."
This is the quote I would like you to apply to my failings as someone who sets updating goals and then fails to meet them. Also, what the hell Mr. Wayne? Seriously uncool.


-1933-

-The Dust Bowl-

It was long past midnight when Calypso was finally prepared to leave. The process of getting ready hadn't taken especially long, even with the sneaking around. But the Doctor had informed her that his kind were virtually blind in the darkness, and unlikely to hunt in the deepest part of the night. She ignored the nagging fear that perhaps he'd only told her that to get her outside.

She didn't trust him, not explicitly. But there was something in the way he had spoken so bitterly about his own people turning against him. She believed it. Whether she was being naïve or not, she couldn't really be sure. But she did know she had run out of options.

She pulled on the trousers and the boots she'd found in a cupboard long dusty with disuse. There was a pang of guilt as she did so, knowing that these clothes served no practical purpose the way they'd been abandoned. They had been stored for sentimental reasons and someday their absence would be noted.

It couldn't be helped though. She shivered in the cool basement as she cut away at the silky ends of her dress. It had served her well at a garden party, but they weren't exactly practical for hiking through a storm. The excess fabric she wrapped around her neck as a scarf, hoping it would be useful out in the blowing sands.

The only other thing she'd packed for their journey was a pair of canteens filled with water. She hadn't had the heart to steal any of Alona's meager rations when the people here needed them so desperately. Besides, she suspected if they were out there long enough to go hungry, then they had already failed.

Her eyes drifted to the cellar door, it remained locked as she had left it hours before. There was no creak of floorboards above her, and there had not been for several hours. The only thing preventing her from leaving now were her own fears.

She shouldered the small saddlebag with the canteens and turned toward the door. After striking the bargain, she'd been unwilling to remain in the room with him. It was too unnerving to feel the eyes of a stranger upon her from a friendly face.

But she and the Doctor both needed that stranger, so she took a deep breath and pushed the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Attempting to look fashionable for our untimely death?" The Doctor scoffed. He was sitting at the small desk in the near corner of the room, the lantern casting shadows flickering across his face. Even below ground the storm outside managed to disturb the air.

Calypso looked down at the shredded remains of her once lovely dress. It ended just below her waist where creased and dusty brown trousers replaced silk. It was not a particularly flattering look. Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Not especially."

The Doctor grunted. "I guess I'm not entirely sure what you people are going for with this-" he plucked at the tweed jacket on his shoulders with distaste. "Stuff."

"Are you ready?" She didn't have time to explain the premise of clothing to an alien creature that hunted people for sport, and she certainly didn't have the patience.

"Ready to march to death." He stood and stretched his arms up over his head. She'd left the chains undone, hoping to gain some semblance of trust between them. He hadn't strangled her as she walked in, so she supposed that was a start.

"Your optimism is especially reassuring." There was a dull throbbing in her skull that frayed at her temper. Added to that was the fact that the Doctor would have scorned the idea of them marching to their doom, whereas this creature seemed to wholly expect it.

"I'm a practical sort of species." He rolled his shoulders and gave her a short smirk. "I suppose now is as good a time as any."

She picked up the lantern from the table and led him to the stairs, pausing as she reached them. "After you."

He grinned wickedly, knowing exactly the fear that kept her from allowing him to follow her. She doubted there was anything she could do to prevent him from betraying her if he still intended to, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be cautious.

Their steps were heavy on the wooden stairs, but the house had long since settled and they made little noise. At the top of the stairs he paused, his hand lingering on the door handle.

"Douse the light." He said so faintly she hardly heard him.

She blew out the wick and waited, in the darkness she was able to listen more carefully. Beyond the door there were voices. Her heart began to race, she didn't know what Alona would do if she found Calypso sneaking around with the Doctor, but she suspected it wouldn't be good.

"It's fine." The Doctor whispered as he pushed the door open a crack. Calypso's breath caught in her throat, but as he stepped out onto the landing, she saw the source of the noise.

A thin tendril of light emerged from below the securely shut kitchen door. Whoever was still awake didn't want to disturb anyone else, which made it possible to slip down the hallway undetected.

Calypso left the lamp at the top of the stairs and followed the Doctor's lead, doing her best to muffle her steps. They passed the living room in darkness and she could hear the raspy breaths of those who were sick. No one cried out, though it was dark enough that they probably just couldn't see them as they passed.

The walls rattled with the wind blowing outside, the storm had eased somewhat from earlier in the day, but they had not ceased entirely. She tied her makeshift scarf up over her mouth and nose and made sure it was tight enough to stay put.

The Doctor turned to her, hardly visible in the shadows and waited. His hand was on the chair that barricaded the door outside shut. She realized he was waiting for her. She considered changing her mind, hiding down in the basement and hoping Jack made a miraculous escape.

She nodded sharply, steeling herself against further cowardly thoughts. The Doctor pulled the chair aside and opened the door, it whipped out of his hand as a fierce gust of wind tore through the opening and banged against the far wall. The Doctor strode out the door and Calypso shielded her eyes, following quickly. People were bound to have heard the commotion.

"Had a feeling you were trouble." Alona's voice rose above the wind and Calypso turned to face her.

The kitchen door was open wide and Alona stood there looking grim with her shotgun leveled at her.

Calypso opened her mouth to stop her, but the flash of the muzzle lit the entry and she knew it was already too late. Before she could even flinch she felt herself hurled backward through the door.

Wood splintered around her, but the wind carried the shards away as she landed hard on her shoulder. The firm surface of the porch knocking the wind from her lungs and she gasped beneath her scarf to breathe.

"Up Callie!" The Doctor shouted, pulling her to her feet. His face was transformed suddenly, urgent and anxious in the kitchen light that spilled outside. It was so unlike the mask that the creature wore. But then it returned once more, the cold demeanor twisting with confusion briefly before his hand clasped at hers the way one might snatch a towel. "Run!"

It rang hollow from this pretender, but as she looked back she could see Alona trying to reload. She didn't need further incentive to flee.

The Doctor was already hurtling forward, away from the light and protection of the house. And Calypso was dragged along behind him, urging her legs to keep up with his own.

It was only a moment before they were enveloped completely in the darkness, the blowing sands blotting out even the dim light from the stars. But still they kept running. Without the light, she had no way of knowing if they were ten feet or a hundred from Alona's porch.

The Doctor pushed on, his long galloping strides easily outpacing her own. Her shoulder jerked painfully as she tried to keep up. The scarf effectively kept out most of the dust, but she found it more difficult to breathe and her gasps for air became more and more futile.

The only sounds not blotted out by the tremendous roaring of the wind was her own heart pounding in her ears. Despite the athletic activity, she regretted leaving behind a jacket. Her thin shirt did little to block the fierce evening chill and she started to shiver.

When she grew certain her legs were about to give out, the Doctor finally slowed. He didn't stop outright, but continued forward, steady unflinching steps carried them deeper into the storm. She had no idea how he could pick a direction in this obscured dark world, it was possible they were just walking in circles.

It was hard to track distance, or even time under the endless onslaught of wind and dust. But they marched on long after her feet began to ache and her body begged to stop. Her throat was parched and she desperately needed water. But she lacked the strength to open her pack and worried the canteens would fill with sand as soon as she exposed them to the storm.

There was also the real fear that if she released the Doctor's hand, he might just leave her out there in the storm. He seemed little tired from their trek and if not for gripping her hand so tight, she might as well not even existed.

When her limbs could take no more abuse, she tried to raise her voice to ask him if he knew where they were headed, hoping that some hint at a destination might give her some final strength to continue on. But the dust caught in her already raw throat and she was struck by a coughing spell.

The Doctor stopped then, gracing her with a few moments of stillness. He came close enough to her to block the worst of the wind, though she could hardly make out more than the shadow of him. Her eyes were largely useless anyway, her vision blurred by tears as her eyes tried to fight off the onslaught of sand.

"You're slowing us down." He had stooped near her face so she could hear him.

She wanted to argue, but it was foolish to waste her energy. "I know."

He let go of her hand and for a giddying moment she had to fight not to snatch at it. He didn't take off, as she feared, but reached around her shoulders for the bag with the water and draped it across his own back. She hadn't realized how much the straps had been digging into her flesh until the weight had been lifted.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be able to see in the dark." Her voice was weak, but still loud enough to be heard this close.

"I can't." He admitted. "But my host appears to be better suited to the darkness." He opened the bag and held one of the canteens out to her, and raised his coat to offer some protection from the wind. "Drink."

She flexed her hand as she reached for it, unaware of how he had been crushing the bones in her fingers this whole time. She drank greedily from the canteen, emptying half of it before her thirst was slaked. There was still a burning in her throat, but that was likely the dust that had gotten past her scarf.

"Then how do you know where we're going?" She handed the canteen back to him, but he didn't drink. Instead he tucked it away in the pack and let his coat drop again.

"I always know which way is home." He frowned, clearly annoyed with her questions. "I don't need to see it."

That seemed the only answer she was likely to get and he held out his hand once more. Surprised at how relieved she was, she took it, and then they were moving again.

The short break and water had somewhat restored her energy, but she knew it wouldn't be long before she was struggling again.

Her aching body gradually went numb as they went. The constant buffeting of the winds distracted her from each of her individual pains. She thought it was helping, but she eventually realized that the arm's length between her and the Doctor continued to stretch out as they went. She half trotted to catch up again, but the yo-yo effect happened increasingly as her feet began to drag in the soft soil beneath them.

"We haven't got much time." The Doctor shouted over his shoulder, startling her out of her stupor. She hoped it meant that they were nearly there, though she was in no shape for sneaking aboard an alien ship.

Instead, it was the change in light. There wasn't much of it, the world around her was still a dusty blur, but the dusty blur had a decidedly browner appearance to it. Somewhere beyond the veil of the storm, dawn was approaching.

"We have to reach the ship!" She knew he was aware, but her wrist burned where the creature had grasped it. A sharp and frightening reminder of what would follow the light.

"We're not going to make the ship." He stopped moving and tilted his head, as though listening. He slowly spun in place, coming to a halt left of the direction he'd been facing before. "There's a house." He didn't sound entirely convinced and she wondered how he'd come to that conclusion. "We can make that before dawn."

Before she could respond, there was a chilling scream from somewhere above them. Calypso's already short breath grew ragged and her eyes searched the brown swirling above them.

"We need to run!" The Doctor's grip tightened and he took off. She had little choice but to follow or be dragged in his wake. She urged her wobbly legs to move, but the ground beneath felt like quicksand, each step slowing her further as they ran.

"Move!" The Doctor bellowed as an inky shadow materialized on their right. It vanished just as quickly, but it was enough to convince Calypso to push herself past her exhaustion.

The Doctor dodged left and she jerked along behind him like an errant kite. He leapt into the air and Calypso made a halfhearted attempt to follow. Too late she saw the small hurdle he'd avoided, her boot caught on a collapsed fence and she fell to the ground.

The Doctor's firm grip slipped away and her chin struck something hard, dazing her briefly as the rest of her body bruised against the solid surface she'd landed on.

She hoped it was a porch she'd fallen across, but it wobbled as she came to her senses. Just the gate from the fence that had thrown her down. Her eyes strained in the warm murky darkness, but the Doctor's lean figure was nowhere to be seen.

A shadow screamed nearby and she clutched at the object beneath her. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she spotted another. She rolled off the gate and hoisted it above her, trying to put some barrier between herself and the creatures.

Sand poured down through the slats, weighing down her scarf and choking off her labored breathing. Her eyes were already clogged with dust, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and she shut them against the fear of what she would see.

The moment of their attack stretched on until she realized that she'd been holding her breath. She gasped in a ragged breath and blinked in her confusion, struggling to make out anything in the storm.

She tilted the gate so that she could gain some grasp of her surroundings. The Doctor was absent, as were the shadowy creatures. The only thing she could see was the fence she'd tripped over. She thought she heard the faint shriek of one, but it sounded far off, as though it were hunting someone else. If it wasn't after her, there was only one other option.

She stood up on shaky limbs, discarding the gate as she did so. It was far too heavy for her to manage on her own, especially in the state she was in. She put the fence perpendicular to herself, and set off in the direction she thought the Doctor had gone.

She was either going to find him in this storm, or the creatures were going to find them both.