For once, everything was working out well. Paul Revere had been seen and recognized by Dr. Joseph Warren. Revere hadn't actually sold his Boston home, so the records would still show he lived there all his life. The Doctor had left Warren and Revere to talk about suspicious movements being made by the British. Knowing that he wouldn't miss any major historical points, it only being the 17th of April, the Doctor had decided to go in search of Kathryn. If things worked out, he would find her in time to join in the first meeting he knew would occur in Charlestown, one of the neighborhoods in Boston. That one would be where Patriot leaders would agree on a plan to get the word out that the Loyalists were on the move.

She'd get a kick out of going to that. Maybe she'd even react. That's the only problem traveling with her. Well, it's a good thing too, but it takes some of the fun out of it. Kathryn slips right into where ever or whenever we go, but she never seems overly impressed. No huge shocks, just acceptance.

The Doctor's expression grew thoughtful as he neared the place he had parked the TARDIS. That's how she was when we first met too. Yes, she struggled against the idea she could never see her family again, but that's natural. Everything else, psychic paper, perception filters, sonic screwdrivers, time travel, my age, the TARDIS… she blinked, absorbed the fact, accepted it, and left it at that. She admired different things, but didn't go over the top. She let it be what it was, and never demanded more.

Acceptance. Rare to find it in this universe.

As he turned the corner, the TARDIS came into view. But no Kathryn. Perhaps things weren't going so well.

Swell. Now I have to go find her. Why do I always end up having to find the people who come with me? I need to stop telling them to go places on their own. And letting them wander off. It always ends in trouble.

Despite what many of his other friends had thought, the Doctor was able to track people down with, as they would put it, gizmos. In his case though, it was his sonic screwdriver most of the time. He turned the setting to read energy spikes, knowing from a previous experience that Kathryn would show up as such. (It had involved a radar screen, a planetary war, a no-fly zone, a fist full of rubber bands, two spark plugs, and a blank CD. Bad mix.)

The signal was surprisingly weak, which probably meant she had walked a long way in her search. It was coming from the direction of the Boston Neck, a miniscule strip of land joining the almost island of Boston with the rest of the continent.

I hope she hasn't gone quite that far. Then again, that would be the only reason for such a weak signal. Ah well.

The Doctor walked the streets, checking the screwdriver every so often to make certain he was going the right way. Since he wasn't too worried about Kathryn, he almost strolled along, enjoying the sunset along the ocean and the architecture. After all, this was birth of a new nation. It was nice to not have to destroy one for once.

While growing a bit stronger, the signal never got as strong as it should have. Just how far did she walk? the Doctor wondered.

20 minutes after leaving the TARDIS, he arrived at the Boston Neck. He still didn't see Kathryn, though the screwdriver was defiantly showing her as nearby.

He started to jog instead, using the firmer, wetter part of the sand to make travel easier. Soon, the Doctor recognized a splotch of red that resembled Kathryn's hair color. The only problem was that it was flat down on the beach.

The Doctor started running. "Kathryn!" he called. She didn't answer. A weak signal doesn't only mean distance… a voice in his head whispered.

When he got to her, he saw she was lying face down, her head turned to the side. She was damp, and her hair was full of sand, as if she had washed up. He rolled her over, noting that she was still clutching her knife. He also realized she wasn't breathing. Upon checking her pulse, there was only the absence of her usual overlapping six-time beat.

She must have fought someone. But did she jump in to escape…or was she thrown?

After 903 years, the Doctor knew many different CPR techniques. However, the basic chest compression was always best. The only problem was that Kathryn had three separate hearts (hence the overlap of the six separate beats), and he had to try to get them all beating again. He also wasn't sure how much water she might have in her lungs.

Turning her head to the side so the water would be able to escape, he pressed on her lowest heart, about half-way down her left side. She didn't react, her skin still cold, her lips still a purple tint. He shifted to where a heart was on most humans. Before giving the chest compression, he had to move a transporter that Kathryn always wore around her neck. It resembled a smooth, black rock, and it was that transporter that had brought them together in the first place. It was burnt out, but she wore it as a keepsake. As soon as he touched it, Kathryn exploded.

Faster than he thought possible, she had him face down in the sand, his arm twisted painfully behind him, her knife against the side of his throat.

"Ow, ow, ow, Kathryn, it's me!" The Doctor's voice was slightly muffled, but the words were clear enough.

He heard the surprise in her voice. "Doctor?"

She released him and rolled off to the side, where she promptly vomited seawater. The Doctor stood to brush himself off as she rolled onto her back, eyes closed and a hand on her forehead.

"What was that for?" he questioned her.

"Nice to see you too, Doctor. Remind me to never try swallowing the ocean again. It tastes horrid."

"Too much salt?" he asked, knowing she would be alright if she could still tease.

"No. Too much tea," she quipped, smiling weakly.

He returned her smile with a broad grin, relieved. "It is Boston Harbor."

Kathryn's eyes widened, remembering something. She struggled to get up, and he bent down to help. Her words came rapid-fire as he tried to make sense of them.

"We've got to get back. What are you doing down here looking for me anyway? Jak's going to get to him, and it's not just Revere. He's going to try to knock off everyone else too. Tonight's a good start. Which direction is Charlestown from here? Did someone change history, or did I get it wrong after reading the book? Do you know anything about a 43rd century loyalist group? Or a 43rd century British Empire?"

"Breathe Kathryn!"

She inhaled deeply, gripping his arms for support. She nodded, signaling that she would be fine, and let go off him. "Sorry. Shock or something. I'll be fine. We do need to get moving though," she said, sliding her knife back in its sheath.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you can walk?"

She gave him a look. "I'm fine, Doctor. I had a…recent intake of energy. I'll heal, but we still need to get moving."

"What do you mean, "recent intake?"

Kathryn glanced away, her cheeks becoming a purple-pink color as she blushed. "Ah…let's just put it in the category of, "he isn't dead he's only unconscious but he's certainly not following me anymore."

"Kathryn, the last time you put something in that category the man wasn't found for three days. And he was tied to a flagpole."

She pointed at him accusingly. "He tried to sell me!"

"He was at the top! I still don't know how you did that."

"You don't want to. Anyway, that's not the point. We can walk and talk at the same time. I assume you left Revere as he was headed for Charlestown."

"Yeah, a few of the other leaders found him and they're headed that way. I figured Boston had probably taken all it could stand from you and decided to rescue it. It seems it fought back."

"That's one way to put it. Doctor, have you figured out yet why I don't absorb energy from you, and only you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Meaning you have no clue."

"Exactly. Still, why do you ask?"

"A recent intake," Kathryn said, pronouncing each word carefully.

The Doctor grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop along with him. No matter how often she had helped him, her tendency to use force was something he constantly found aggravating.

"Kathryn, what did you do this time?" he said with a calm that hid his anger. Kathryn saw through it, and was unrepentant.

"I jumped the man who blew up the dress shop. He caught me watching him after his partner in crime left to go hunt down Revere. So, I shut him up. Not permanently, just well enough that he wouldn't sound the alarm. Then, I started to chase, but ended up being chased by, a man with a vortex manipulator. I had a short, though interesting conversation with him, during which I found out that he's trying to make sure America stays part of Britain and will do anything to fulfill that goal. I had to swim for it when he pulled out a firearm. All this while you set kites on fire in the middle of the street." She flashed him a smile that was both irritated and smug.

"You've been useful at least," the Doctor said, piecing information together in his mind.

"You're welcome," Kathryn said dryly. "So, 43rd century loyalists. Information while we walk."

"Well, in the early 43rd century, earth finally just joined under a sort of global UN, except they called it EN for "Earth Nations". Once every country had joined, groups started popping up everywhere, trying to force their countries to stand alone again. Something about cultural conditions being compromised, I think. Every country had one, even the U.S."

"So the British branch decided to stay separate by coming back in time to keep their claim on America? How does that work, exactly?"

"Come now Kathryn, you're smarter than that! America became the richest, most powerful country on Earth. If you can keep a hold on that right from the start, you don't need anyone else."

The Doctor heard Kathryn snort in derision. "Yeah, richest and most powerful country. The when I lived in, we owed ourselves trillions of dollars and were in the middle of a war."

Not sure how best to answer that, the Doctor kept silent. He couldn't deny it, for America never quite got out of that debt. He saw her glance at him, then smile her customary half-smirk.

"You needn't be so gloomy. I think America is the greatest place to live, on Earth at least, but I'm not blind to its faults. Still, we did a few good things.

"Now, we need to pick up the pace, Doctor. Our British agent can move through time as well, so we need to get to Charlestown before he does. We can't have him setting fire to the meeting house or something. But we have to be careful; he knows I'll be there."

*Constructive critisisim welcome, praise happily accepted, flames not wanted*