Not my best of chapters, but...eh...explains a bit. Rawr, hope you all like!

Kathryn Hart: First story I ever read, I reviewed chapter 1 and said "Better get ch. 2 up soon".

then I read there were fifteen more chapters to read.

lolcats. 8D

BANG.

"Oi! What was that about!"

"Sorry Doctor,"

"Ouch! That was my foot!"

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Was that you touching me?"

"No! I didn't do anything!"
"JACK!"

"WHAT?"
"Alright, just shut up! Both of you shut up a minute!"

There was a ringing silence following this. A woman walking past the junkyard paused, and stared into the darkness, squinting to see what was going on. However, when nothing appeared, she merely shrugged, grabbed her suitcase and went on her merry way. A few seconds later, there was a funny ringing sound, and suddenly, an old, wooden wardrobe from the middle of the junkyard exploded. It had been face down, so the wardrobes occupants had been forced to blast the entire thing into multiple pieces. Following this explosion, three people fell out of the space previously occupied by the wardrobe in which they had been contained.

They straightened up, revealing Martha, Jack, and the Doctor as he looked in his tenth regeneration. The Doctor was rubbing a spot on his cheek, which looked rather dirty.

"I mean, seriously," he said. "Did you have to kick me? It wasn't like there was much room, and you just thought it was me? And Jack was in the room? Martha! I thought you were cleverer than that," he sighed, tutting and sat himself down on a moldy old chair.

"Sorry Doctor," Martha sighed. She looked at Jack. "Not at all as smooth as last time," she growled. Jack shrugged.

"These things are a bit dodgy sometimes, nothing I can do," he said. Martha glared at him.

"The least you can do is keep your hands to yourself," she spat.

"It was dark, I couldn't see anything," Jack said with supposed innocence. Martha rolled her eyes, and then looked at the Doctor smiling.

"Just like old times?" she asked. He looked up at her, and grinned that old, mad grin that she knew so well.

"Just like old times!" he said, and he jumped to his feet.

"So where are we?" he said. "Jack, you set the coordinates for London, but I think something went amiss, because I don't think we're in London, or at least, in the center of London anyways."

"Well," said Jack, checking his teleport. "It looks to me like we're in London, on the outskirts," said Jack.

"Brilliant!" said the Doctor cheerfully.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Martha asked. The Doctor shrugged.

"No idea, something out of the ordinary, but not a Dalek," he said cheerfully. "You had to bring us here at night?"

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Oh, the gratitude," he said sarcastically. "I got us here, be grateful for that, I don't know if you can say the same for the others."

The Doctor, who had been walking away briskly to look around the place, spun around and looked at Jack. Martha was staring at him too, horror on her face.

"What are you talking about?" she said. Jack looked uncomfortable. The Doctor strode back over to him, staring at him with an extremely worried expression on his face.

"What did you see, did something happen?" he asked.

"I don't think Lucy plugged the coordinates in right," he said. "I also think you're screwdriver isn't working very well," he added. The Doctor looked horrified, and flipped his screwdriver on. Sure enough, the bright blue light was duller, and that wonderfully familiar ringing was slightly pathetic. Martha swallowed.

"Indigo was supposed to be dangerous, it was worse than these things, and I made it alright" she said. The Doctor put his face in his hands and groaned.

"Yeah…" he said. "But there was still every possibility you could have been scattered into atoms as well, you just got lucky," he said.

"Twice?"

"She has a point," Jack supplied. "They could have made it," The Doctor looked up at him, and for a moment, Martha thought he was going to shout at him, but he didn't.

"Could have?" he said quietly. "But you know that's not what I'm going to be thinking, and it's not what you're going to be thinking either,"

He sounded terrified, and Martha looked up at the sky a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Well there's nothing we can do right now. Lucy's clever, she might have been able to do something," she said.

"I really hope you're right," the Doctor said. "Come on, let's go have a look around."

"Amy? Amy!"

Something was prodding her. Or someone? Amy groaned, and blinked. Everything was rather blurry, but she was vaguely aware of something yellow in front of her. Actually, there was quite a lot of yellow.

"That was bumpy," she said groggily. There was a small chuckle from somewhere around her.

"Tell me about it," came a voice. Amy blinked harder. Goodness, this was difficult. However, after a few moments, everything began coming into focus, and Amy propped herself up on her elbows, and realized that she was leaning on something fairly soft, but slightly prickly. She looked down: hay bales.

"That explains the yellow," she said groggily. Then, as if somebody had dumped a bucket of water on her head, and she sat bolt upright. Everything was crystal clear, the teleport, the ripping sensation, Rose, Lucy. She looked around frantically, and realized it had been Rose poking her.

"Rose!" she exclaimed. "Thank goodness, you...oh! Er, you okay?" Amy stared at Rose, her eyes slightly wider. She swallowed.

"I know," Rose said grimly. "It looks worse than it is though truly,"

For the entire right side of her face was covered in dark, dried up and crusty blood, from what looked like a nasty cut above her eye. A moment later, Amy felt an odd sticky, and somewhat painful sensation on her elbow, and looked to see a similar sight there.

"How did this happen?" she asked. "How did you get that, why are we here, and where is Lucy?"

"I dunno," said Rose, slightly helpless. Amy frowned.

"Well, let's see what the date is," Amy suggested. "Then we can find her."

"Right," said Rose. She rubbed at her face, looked at her hands and pulled a face. "Uggh…funny, I don't actually remember getting this, we must have crashed," Rose remarked, looking around. "And in a good place too. Otherwise…" Amy took that moment to take in the surroundings as well. They had landed in a barn, a fairly large one too, and in what looked like the hayloft.

"We'd be dead," Amy finished. She looked back at Rose again, who was still rubbing at her face. "God, I can't go out like this," she muttered to herself.

"Come on," said Amy, "We've got to find Lucy. Rose nodded, and the two of them scrambled across the loft, and down the ladder. Lucky for them, there was nobody in the barn at the time. Amy jumped down, and observed the crash site. It wasn't much. There were a few horses peering curiously over the stalls at them, but aside from them, and the stink of manure, there was nothing. Rose dropped down beside her, and made an attempt to brush herself off.

"Don't," Amy said, catching her arm. Rose looked at her.

"Why not?" she asked.

"We'll fit in more, seeing we didn't bother to change," said Amy.

"Right," said Rose with a sigh. "Lets go then."

The two of them wandered out of the old barn, and into the street to get a good look. It was certainly in the right time period, that much Amy knew. It was a busy day, and it was cold. The middle of winter, and she was wearing a tee shirt and a lightweight jacket! She shivered. Rose was somewhat better dressed, in fact, she could even pass for the time period. She was wearing a nice, long, rather fancy looking coat, and the only thing that was different was that she was wearing a pink wooly hat. Amy stared.

"You did not look like that earlier," she said. Rose stared down at herself.

"No," she said. "I…I didn't…" she twirled the coat around. "It's nice though," she remarked. "But you look the same, why's that?"

"No idea, but whoever did it has a slap in the face coming their way," Amy growled. Rose frowned.

"Well, I'm roasting in this thing," she said, and she pulled the massive coat off, and tossed it at Amy, revealing another, smaller jacket. Rose snorted.

"This is so weird," she said.

"Why didn't I notice you were wearing different cloths?" Amy asked, more to herself than Rose. "Thanks," she added as she pulled the coat on.

"Don't mention it," Rose said. Suddenly, she looked extremely aggravated.

"We've got to figure out if we're in the right year first though," said Amy.

"We are," Rose said shortly. Amy looked at her.

"And you know….how?" she asked skeptically. Rose glanced at her, and her eyes flashed.

"I just do, so shut up, and come on," she replied shortly. Rose hurried on irritably out into the street, and Amy stopped, looking after her, surprised and offended at this sudden rude treatment. She narrowed her eyes as Rose marched off, and was slightly confused, and concerned as she wrapped the coat tighter around herself and followed.

"Go on," Jim urged. "try again."

Jim, a tall sturdy youth of twenty, obliged his friend's encouragement and reached out with the butt of his gun, and poked the girl. She stirred a little, followed by low chuckles and hoots from the other guys. The girl sat up groggily from the cobblestone alleyway on which she lay, and opened her eyes. Jim's eyes glanced up and down at her, and he noticed with a smirk, that she was hardly wearing anything. She looked almost like a boy, with long, odd blue pants and a strange looking coat. Or was it even a coat? He didn't know. All he knew was that there was a girl, in an alleyway, alone with him and his mates. They had been screwing off, taking a break from their duties as young soldiers.

"Wha…?" asked the girl. She looked extremely confused. "What year is it?"

All five of them laughed heartily, realizing that they were going to have a good time with this one.

"Somebody buy you one to many drinks love?" asked Charley, Jim's best mate.

"It's 1825, sweetheart," Jim supplied.

"Oh," the girl giggled, confirming her intoxication. "Good year…oh my, I certainly had a rough trip, didn't I? Where am I?"

"No matter," Jim said, grinning. "We'll help you out."

The girl stopped, and there was a flicker of fear in her eyes as she looked at the boys. She wasn't stupid.

"No…" she said wistfully. "I can manage,"

"I don't think you can," said Jim. This was more or less true, because as the girl tried to get to her feet, she collapsed. Then, she started to giggle uncontrollably. She tried again to stand, but this time was successful, but she couldn't walk very well. She staggered over to Jim's horse, where she caught herself by leaning against it. The horse turned and looked at her, ears pricked, and she stared at it for a moment. She giggled again.

"Come on then sweetheart," Jim said, grinning as he approached her. He reached for her arm. In that moment, she looked up at him, and he froze. She was not at all intoxicated. She knew exactly what she was doing. In less than a second, she had hold of the horse's reins, and jabbed the horse in the flanks. By instinct, the horse leaped forward right at Jim, who darted to the side, and felt his rifle wrenched out of his hands. As the horse jumped forward, the girl swung up onto his back, pointing the rifle right at Jim.

"All of you, stay put!" she shouted, her voice strong and clear, her eyes sparkling with fury and determination. Jim put his hands up, and the others lowered their own rifles, in an effort to spare their companion. She steadied the horse, who pawed the ground furiously.

"Now then, where am I?" she growled.

"Downtown London, miss," Jim said in a small voice.

"What's the date?" she asked. Jim just stared at her.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"THE DATE!" she snarled.

"December 21st!" he said quickly. Her eyes sparkled with malice.

"Right," she said, and her expression softened. "You know," she added. "You really ought to get some backbone." She threw Jim's rifle at him, hitting him in not too gently, "Did you honestly think I was going to shoot you?"

Before anyone could react, she spun the horse around, and disappeared down the alley with a clatter of hooves. Two of the boys made to get their horses, but Jim held out his hand.

"Let her go," he said, his expression odd. "Whoever she is, there's more like her where she came from, and I think it's best we leave her alone."

How very right he was.

Enjoy and review!