Kathryn came to an abrupt stop as her head cracked against a rock. She saw black for a moment, and then it cleared. Her head still hurt, as did the rest of her. Carefully she sat up, looking for whatever it was she had been crashing into.

"Oh, this isn't going to be fun."

Marching towards her through the flock of sheep was a rather irate man. He was broad shouldered and tall, with brown-red hair and dark eyes.

"What do ye mean by crashing in tae my animals?"

"I decided to take a shortcut down the hill." Kathryn gingerly touched the side of her head, feeling blood. She hoped the dark purple looked red enough in the dusk. She looked back at the man. "Am I in Scotland?"

"Aye, and ye've just woken my sheep by falling doon the hill. What were ye doing up thar?"

"Sightseeing. When is it?"

"How hard did ye hit your head, lass?" the man asked, seeming to lose some of his temper. "'Tis 1727, night before the first o' May."

"April thirtieth. Got it." She stood carefully, waving away the man's help. "Where in Scotland am I?"

"I think ye need tae sit back doon."

"I'll live. Where am I?"

"Yer on the Dixon's land. I'm one of the herds, Liam Hastings."

"Dixon," Kathryn repeated. "Why does that sound vaguely familiar?"

There was some scuffling and the Doctor came down off the hill, wading through the sheep. "Are you alright Kathryn?"

"Just dandy Doctor," she answered sarcastically. "We're in Scotland, by the way. 1727, April 30. Hey, does the surname Dixon mean anything to you?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Not right off. Why?"

"We've crashed into their sheep." Kathryn nodded gently at Liam. "One of the shepherds. Liam Hastings, meet Doctor Doom."

The Doctor gave Kathryn a look before grinning at Liam and holding out his hand. "Sir Doctor of TARDIS."

Kathryn choked back a laugh as Liam took the Doctor's offered hand. "Knighted by the king himself, aye? Mr. Dixon will be wanting tae meet ye then. Yer lucky they dine late in the day; ye'll be just in time for supper."

The Doctor nodded. "Thank you. I'll help Miss Moore along and we'll follow behind you."

Liam agreed and turned around. The Doctor took a look at Kathryn's head.

"Sir Doctor? Seriously? Where'd you get that one?"

"Queen Victoria. Werewolf incident."

"Pleasant. How's my skull?"

"Getting better, but you've got a rather large gash. You might want to try speeding the healing process if it's possible; it'd be better if it were to be a smaller wound by the time we get to the Dixon house."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to go from a split skull to a scar while we're eating."

"Do I heal that fast?"

"I don't know; you've only had to deal with energy absorption for a day. Yes, the body uses energy to heal, but we don't know yet how quickly it responds to something like this."

"Good point."

Kathryn closed her eyes. The landscape had been hard to make out in the diminishing light, but now it suddenly lit up with blues, greens, purples, and reds. Kathryn felt oddly detached as she looked at the Doctor and herself from a third person view.

"Well no wonder sheep are so stupid."

The Doctor sounded puzzled. "Come again?"

"I mentioned before…well, I guess it was yesterday. I told you yesterday that I had figured out the color mental energy gives off is purple. These sheep literally have it pouring out of their ears. Kinda gross. Although…I finally figured out the heat/light green/red thing. I'm fairly certain that green is heat."

"And this helps…"

"Don't get snippy. All I can do is see it; what more do you want me to do?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Try focusing on pulling it towards you."

Because the most abundant energies were mental and sound, Kathryn decided to start with those. Thinking very hard around her headache, she pictured the purple and blue coming towards her. Nothing happened at first, then the two colors started moving towards her, slowly at first, then picking up in pace. A few more moments and Kathryn saw herself wrapped in purple and blue lightning. Her mind felt particularly sharp and cacophony rang in her ears.

The headache dissipated and the blood stopped coming from the cut. Kathryn released her death grip on the colors and saw them rush off, bouncing away over the hills and sheep. She opened her eyes again and breathed deeply.

"Well. That was fun."

"Glad you enjoyed it," the Doctor said, sounding a little dazed. He looked down at Kathryn and grinned. "Would you join me for dinner in 18th century Scotland?"

"I believe I shall accept that offer, Sir Doctor."

Mister Robert James Dixon was a tall man, broad shouldered and squared jawed. His eyes were set with just the right distance between them and his mouth had found the balance between too thick and too thin. His skin was tanned and his eyes were a dark blue that went well with his black hair. Altogether a very handsome man. He was well groomed, well-polished, and well mannered.

Kathryn could feel the disdain radiating from him the moment he saw her. She held her head high and looked him in the eye, wondering if it was her A-line haircut or her disheveled appearance. Mr. Dixon turned to the Doctor, who had already offered his hand.

"Sir Doctor of TARDIS," Mr. Dixon said warmly, clasping the Doctor's hand as if greeting an old friend. "An honor to have you here Sir."

"Oh, just Doctor is fine," the Doctor said with his grin as he released the man's hand. Mr. Dixon gestured to the young man next to him.

"My son and first born, Jonathan Robert."

Jonathan Robert was a bit shorter than and not quite as filled as his father, but gave every promise of reaching his father's stature. He gave Kathryn the same sort of look his father had. She raised an eyebrow at him, trying to understand what exactly was wrong with her.

The Doctor must have noticed, because he gestured to Kathryn. "May I present my niece, Miss Kathryn Moore of TARDIS."

Kathryn felt the irritation from both men ease, but not dissipate. Both Dixon men gave her a polite nod. "Miss Moore."

"Mr. Dixon, Master Dixon," she answered pleasantly. "A pleasure to meet you. I've heard many things about your family."

All the men, including the Doctor, seemed a bit thrown by the comment, though the Doctor looked a bit amused at the Dixon's shock.

"What sort of things, if I may be so bold?" Jonathan asked tentatively. Kathryn smiled knowingly.

"Now that would be telling Master Dixon. I'd rather wait to see if you prove them right or wrong."

There was a moment of strained silence. "We were about to sit down to supper," Mr. Dixon said. "Would you join us?"

"Gladly," the Doctor answered for the both of them.

"Do you have a place I could tidy up first?" Kathryn spoke up. "I would hate to appear at table with dried blood on my face."

"Of course."

One of the servants led Kathryn to a guest bedroom and soon brought her a bowl of water. Kathryn quickly wiped off her face. As there was no mirror, she couldn't be certain as to how she had looked before, but judging by the dirt and blood on the cloth, she'd been pretty bad. No wonder the Dixons had been giving her the eye.

There was a small noise as Kathryn looked towards the door. Something disappeared around the other side. A curious someone, Kathryn decided, shrugging it off.

After making her hair somewhat smooth and taking care of the worst of the dirt and twigs, Kathryn slid on a pair of gloves she'd had in her bag. She wasn't about to risk draining someone of life should she touch them. After locating the dining room sat down and the first course of the traditional Scots meal was served; soup.

The Doctor and Mr. Dixon carried most of the conversation, with add-ins from Jonathan. Kathryn listened intently, but also kept looking at the young girl sitting across from her. She looked enough like Mr. Dixon that Kathryn was certain she was his daughter, but where was Mrs. Dixon? The young girl ate quietly, stealing glances at Kathryn when she thought she wasn't looking.

"If it's not too personal to ask," Mr. Dixon put in suddenly, "may I ask why your niece is forced to wear men's clothing?"

Finally it clicked in Kathryn's head why Mr. Dixon had looked at her that way. This was 1727! Of course women weren't wearing pants yet. Oh well, better go honest.

"It's a personal choice, Mr. Dixon," Kathryn answered evenly. "The length of my hair has the same reason. Now, if I might be so bold, might I be introduced to your daughter?"

Mr. Dixon flicked a glance at the young girl. "Her name is Elizabeth. My wife died in childbirth with her eight years ago."

Jonathan suddenly asked a question about something in politics, changing the subject. Elizabeth continued to eat silently. Kathryn waited for her to look up, then gave a quick smile and a wink.

"Where are you from?" Elizabeth blurted out. Mr. Dixon fixed her with a look that carried a great deal of threat.

"Elizabeth."

"It's quite alright Mr. Dixon," Kathryn said. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her tone. "The child has a right to question me. I am in her home and at her table, and am obviously not from anywhere near here." She stood carefully. "Seeing as you men are quite happy to entertain yourselves, might Elizabeth be spared to show me your home?"

Before Mr. Dixon could recover, the Doctor spoke up. "Sounds like a splendid idea, Kathryn," he said, seeming to understand what she was trying to do. "I'm sure our conversation has been entirely too dull for you."

With a knighted guest agreeing, there was little Mr. Dixon could do but give his permission. Kathryn stepped away from the table. Elizabeth slipped from her seat and took the hand offered by Kathryn.

"America."

Elizabeth looked up at Kathryn with large brown eyes. Kathryn explained. "You asked me where I was from. I'm from the American Colonies."

Elizabeth looked down at the rug they were sitting on. "I apologize for being so rude before."

"It's alright," Kathryn reassured her. "Next time just wait for a lull in the conversation before asking."

"Father doesn't like me to speak at the table unless I'm spoken too."

Kathryn sighed. "Yeah, I've met people like that. I think it's good to speak up."

"I've heard of America," Elizabeth said, changing the subject. "It's very far away."

"Yes it is. Do you often get the chance to go places?"

"No. Just to church and sometimes the neighbors four miles away for holidays. Tomorrow everyone is coming here, so I'm not leaving."

"Do you want to travel?"

"Father says that women are safer staying home."

Kathryn was already getting tired of Father. "What do you do here at home?"

"I'm taking lessons so that I can help run a household someday when I'm married, and I sew or knit. Sometimes Father lets me ride the horses."

"I always enjoyed horseback riding."

"It's my favorite thing." Elizabeth looked at Kathryn again. "How old are you?"

"I've lived for fifteen years, but I haven't been born yet."

"Is that a riddle?"

"Yes."

"I like riddles."

"Good. Let me know if you solve it, because I'd like to know the answer too."

"May I call you Katie?"

Kathryn blinked in surprise. "Any reason?"

"My nurse told me it was what my mother wanted to name me. Father didn't like the name, so he called me Elizabeth instead."

Kathryn smiled. "Sure. You can call me Katie."

"Where is your niece from, Doctor?"

"The Colonies, over in America."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do all women there act as she does?"

The Doctor nearly choked on his wine. "Depends on where you go," he said carefully, trying not to laugh again. Kathryn's mannerisms and attitude were a little…forward for the 18th century.

"Which side of your family is she from?" Mr. Dixon questioned.

The Doctor was caught off guard for a moment. "She's not really my niece. More of a distant cousin. Branch of the family we hadn't heard of in a good while. I've only known her a short time."

"How did they come to your attention?"

"I sort of…saved her from an attacker while I was…visiting. Kind of. She tried killing me at first, but we took care of that part."

"Pleasant people in your family tree," Jonathan commented.

"Well she was running scared," the Doctor defended. "Happens when you have…a great shock."

"It must be hard for her, traveling so much without friends her own age."

"Kathryn isn't really her own age."

"What age is that?"

"Fifteen. Just."

Two pairs of eyebrows went up. "Rather young to be away from home."

"She hasn't got one. In a sense, she never did."

"Really."

The conversation drifted off into other topics.

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