Because I got such a beautiful reception for the last chapter, I figured I'd give this to you a few days early. This one doesn't have any new adventures thrown in. Sorry. I was trying to keep the lengths about the same, and I ended up having to move the original adventure I created onto the beginning of the next chapter. Please enjoy!
Chapter 3: The Unquiet Dead
Freya was thrown awake by the jerking of the TARDIS. Instantly she was comforted by the TARDIS, gold particles floating around her peacefully. Still, she staggered to her feet, throwing a robe over her nightclothes.
The Doctor had sent her to take a nap earlier and she had done just that. But something felt off. She wandered out of her room to the console room as the golden particles faded around her. They never stayed with her when she was within the Doctor's sight. She supposed that ought to be suspicious, but she couldn't care. The particles made her safe.
Almost as safe as the Doctor made her feel.
When she entered the console room, the Doctor was flitting around, grabbing levers and pushing buttons like some sort of maniac.
"Good! You're up! Grab that switch!" the Doctor ordered, pointing towards a switch on the console closer to her. She darted towards it, colliding with the TARDIS as it hit what she assumed was a rough patch.
"Hold that one down!" the Doctor shouted, pointing at a different lever.
"But I'm holding this one down," Freya protested.
"Hold 'em both down!" the Doctor shouted as he hit another button. Freya lunged for the lever just as the TARDIS stopped shaking.
"What happened?" Freya asked hesitantly. The Doctor was smiling, making her think they couldn't be anywhere too bad. Not with that expression, anyways.
"I promised you a time machine, and you're gonna get one. One that takes you out of the scope of your own life. Out that door is Naples, 1860, Christmas Eve," the Doctor said, a smug grin on his face. Freya's face lit up at his words.
"And we can go out there? It won't mess anything up?" she asked him.
"Nah," he said, smiling and shaking his head at her. She headed for the door but stopped just as he shouted at her.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her, slightly alarmed. She glanced down at her clothing.
"Do you have some sort of clothes I could wear? Ones that would be…time-appropriate?" Freya asked him. The Doctor beamed at her.
"Of course I do. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left. Hurry up!" he urged. Freya's mind spun at his instructions but she left the room nonetheless.
First left….second right…her mind went blank after that. But the TARDIS helped, shifting hallways in front of her very eyes before a door appeared in front of her. Freya couldn't keep the smile from her lips as she opened it to see a massive room full of clothes. And directly in front of her was a rack of clothes that Freya assumed fit the era they were in.
She grabbed the first one she saw, remembering how the Doctor told her to hurry. It took her longer than she'd expected as she struggled with the many layers of the dress. The corset itself took her much longer than it would have normally taken her to get dressed.
As she took off the dress, she noticed how filthy the poor thing was. The white dress was so worn, she was surprised it hadn't fallen apart already. She tossed in on the ground, hoping the TARDIS would take care of it.
When she'd finished getting dressed, she quickly ran out of the room and towards the console room. She arrived in time for the Doctor to leap up from wherever he'd been fiddling. His eyes trailed over the dressing gown, making Freya wish she'd picked a different outfit.
"Blimey!" he exclaimed, still staring at her.
"Don't laugh," she said, looking straight at the ground.
"You look beautiful," he told her, causing Freya's eyes to shoot up.
"…considering."
The Doctor's one addition threw her.
"Considering what?" Freya asked, struggling to keep her voice normal.
"Considering that you're human," he explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To him, perhaps it was.
"Are we going?" Freya asked, gesturing towards the door. The Doctor nodded, heading for the door. Freya let him lead her to the door.
He opened the TARDIS door, revealing freshly fallen snow.
"After you," he said, his smile so big that it nearly split his face. Freya's eyes widened at the offer and she quickly stepped outside. She pulled her foot back quickly, staring down at her footprint. She'd just left a footprint in the past. A footprint that wouldn't have been there before.
She slowly stepped out of the TARDIS, spinning around to examine her surroundings. Everything was so beautiful. It was nothing like she'd seen before.
She started walking, albeit slowly, as the Doctor took her hand. Everything was new to her. It was breathtaking. The Doctor broke away from her for a moment, heading towards a newspaper stand. Freya kept walking, eyes greedily taking in the sights in front of her.
"I might have got the flight wrong," the Doctor said sheepishly.
"I don't care," Freya murmured, still amazed.
"It's not 1860, it's 1869," he said.
"I don't care," Freya said, shaking her head.
"It's not Naples," the Doctor continued.
"I wasn't even too sure where Naples was," Freya admitted.
"We're in Cardiff," the Doctor finished. Freya stopped walking for a moment, eyeing him.
"I know Cardiff," she muttered before walking quickly to catch up with him.
"So where are we going?" Freya asked him. The Doctor shrugged, offering his arm to her. She looped her arm through his, wishing he'd held out his hand again. It was chilly out here, and while he was warm, she was not.
"Wherever. I usually just wait for trouble," the Doctor answered cheekily.
"And you always find it?" Freya asked him in disbelief. He shook his head, smile still in place.
"No. It always finds me," he told her just as they heard screams coming from a large building in front of them.
"See?" he said before tugging her along behind him.
"Shouldn't you come up with a plan first?" Freya asked him, feeling terrified at the thought of running into a place where everyone was trying to escape without a plan or even the slightest idea as to what was wrong. The Doctor, however, didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with his logic. He pushed his way through the crowds, forcing Freya to try keeping up with him.
As soon as they'd entered, the Doctor ran straight for the stage.
"Did you see where it came from?" he asked excitedly. Freya, however, noticed a woman being dragged out of the theater.
"Doctor, I found her! I'll follow them!" she shouted, hurrying after the two people. The lady they were dragging away had to be the person causing the fuss. There was no other reason for the man and woman to be trying to hide the body as they carried it out.
"Be careful!" the Doctor shouted after her as she exited the building. She ran after the two, stopping as they loaded the woman into the back of a long….carriage. A hearse. The name chilled her to the bone.
"What are you doing?" Freya asked them. The girl looked up at her, shocked.
"Oh it's a tragedy miss. We'll take care of it," she said. The girl continued but Freya ignored her, reaching out to touch the woman's forehead. It was ice. Freya flinched back.
"She's ice cold. She's…she's dead, isn't she? What did you do?" Freya accused, terrified. She took a step back, only to feel two arms wrap around her tightly. One hand held a cloth over her nose and her vision faded very quickly to black.
When she came around, her head was pounding and she was colder than she'd been before. She hated being cold. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Once her eyes were open, she glanced around the room.
She was in a coffin. An opened coffin, thank goodness, but a coffin no less.
And a coffin next to her contained the dead woman the pair had been trying to escape with.
A dead woman who was currently sitting up.
Freya's eyes widened and she tried crawling out of the coffin, only to crash onto the floor, coffin and all. She let out a cry at the impact, quickly trying to pull herself out of the splintered wood. Her right leg was throbbing.
She managed to get to her feet, dragging herself to the door before collapsing once more. She reached for the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn.
"Help! Someone let me out of here!" Freya cried, beating on the door. She glanced over her shoulder to see the corpse coming closer. Only now there were two. A younger corpse was there as well now, both of them closing in on her.
"HELP!" Freya shouted loudly as the first one grabbed her, pulling her up by her neck. She was barely clear of the door before it was kicked open by the Doctor.
"I think this is my dance!" the Doctor shouted, ripping Freya from the corpses. Freya very nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of him, but managed to stay standing by gripping his arm tightly.
"It's a prank! It must be! We're under some mesmeric influence!" an older man said, eyes wide.
"Who's he?" Freya asked, staring at the man.
"Charles Dickens," the Doctor said cheerfully.
"My name's the Doctor. Who are you then? What do you want?" the Doctor asked the corpses.
"Failing. Open the rift! We're dying! Trapped in this form. Cannot sustain. Help us!" the corpse shouted in multiple voices. Freya jumped at the words before they faded away.
The group of them hesitantly made their way to the living room, where the man who'd drugged Freya was sitting in a chair. She felt a wave of fury envelop her, but more than that, she felt exhausted. She slumped against the Doctor, not even bothering to yell at the man.
The Doctor sat her down carefully before moving towards the man.
"You should get talking about what's going on. I do not appreciate you kidnapping my companion. And I'm rather curious about these creatures," the Doctor said, staring at him. The servant girl, as Freya identified her now, approached the Doctor and handed him a cup of tea similar to the cup the man already had.
"Here's your tea. Two sugars, sir, just as you like it," she said. Her words left the Doctor puzzled momentarily before he turned back to the man. Freya noticed the kitchen, where the servant girl had come out of, and made her way in there. She automatically started washing dishes.
"Miss! You shouldn't do that! It isn't proper!" the girl protested, rushing for her.
"I'm only trying to help. What's your name?" Freya asked, feeling slightly hurt.
"Gwyneth, miss. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?" Gwyneth asked shyly.
"I'm Freya. Who's the man in there? The one who drugged me?" Freya asked.
"That's Mr. Sneed. He's my master. He's not too bad. He pays me much more than anyone else would," Gwyneth defended quickly.
"But why did he drug me? What's happening with the bodies?" Freya asked, dreadfully curious.
"They've been coming to life, miss. Mr. Sneed thinks it's the house," Gwyneth explained. Freya nodded, continuing to wash the dishes. Gwyneth sighed quietly and helped dry them as Freya washed.
"Your servants must love you, miss, if you're so willing to help them as you are me," Gwyneth observed. Freya shook her head quickly.
"Oh no. I don't have servants. I take care of my entire house on my own," Freya told her with a rueful smile. Gwyneth looked at the other girl in shock.
"So you are all alone. Completely alone. I have Mr. Sneed. But you have no one. No one but the Doctor," Gwyneth murmured, staring straight into Freya's eyes. The plate Freya was washing slid from her hands into the dishwater with a loud thud.
"How did you..?" Freya drifted off as Gwyneth continued.
"Your parents…so cruel. If my parents had treated me like that, I would not have mourned them when they died. But yours are still alive. Still so cruel," Gwyneth murmured. Freya took a step back.
"How do you know that?" Freya asked the girl shakily.
"I can see it. And I can see your house. So beautiful, so isolated. But you're near London. A different London. People walking around half-naked, for shame. Strange metal moving boxes, and the birds in the sky, no, they're metal as well. Metal birds with people in them. People are flying. And you, you've flown so far. Further than anyone. The things you've seen. The darkness you've felt. The gold lights….I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, miss!" Gwyneth gasped, snapping out of whatever haze she was in.
Freya shook her head, trying to offer a smile to the girl. Gold lights? Was she talking about the gold particles in the TARDIS. But why would they be mixed in with all the bad things? Was there something bad about the gold light?
"It's okay," Freya said quietly.
"I can't help it. Ever since I was a little girl, my mam told me I had the sight. She told me to hide it," Gwyneth explained to Freya.
"But it's getting stronger, more powerful, isn't it?" the Doctor asked from the doorway. Freya jumped at the sound of his voice, having not expected for him to pop in. Gwyneth nodded sadly.
"All the time, sir. Every night, voices in my head," Gwyneth said sadly. Freya instinctively moved closer to the girl before wrapping her arms around Gwyneth in a very loose hug. The Doctor regarded Gwyneth seriously.
"You grew up on top of the rift. You're part of it. You're the key," he explained.
"I tried to make sense of it, sir. Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts," Gwyneth admitted almost shamefully. Freya's hug tightened.
"Well that should help. You can show us what to do," the Doctor told her, placing a smile on his lips for Gwyneth's benefit.
"What to do where, sir?" Gwyneth asked, confused.
"We're going to have a séance."
Freya didn't like the idea of a séance. She didn't like the idea of Gwyneth leading it. And she especially did not like the idea of whatever these creatures were that kept making the dead rise. As Gwyneth set up the area for a séance, Freya grabbed the Doctor's hand, pulling him aside.
"Doctor…I don't like this. I have a really bad feeling," she said nervously, hoping he wouldn't think she was just scared.
"Nonsense. If we can help them, we will. It's like back at the observation deck," the Doctor pointed out.
"But you also said that everything has its time. That everything dies," Freya shot back. The Doctor looked none too pleased to have his own words thrown back at him.
"Yes. But if there's a chance to save lives, we take it. This isn't a fixed point in history. We can change this," the Doctor told her rather harshly, moving back towards Gwyneth. Gwyneth shot Freya an apologetic look before she called everyone over, mentioning something of another séance she'd seen.
"I can't take part in this," Charles Dickens protested angrily. Freya agreed with him wholeheartedly. She had an aching feeling. This wasn't a good idea. But she didn't want to speak out against the Doctor again.
"Humbug? Come on, open mind," the Doctor told him cheerfully as he sat down in a chair. Charles Dickens remained standing. Freya tentatively joined the circle, sitting next to Gwyneth instead of the Doctor. If the Doctor was hurt by her choice of seating, he didn't say anything about it.
"This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I strive to unmask. Séances? Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This girl knows nothing. The other girl has the right idea," Charles Dickens said, gesturing towards Freya. Freya's head lowered itself immediately. She hadn't realized that Charles Dickens had heard what she'd said.
Now she was causing problems.
"Freya has no idea what she's talking. And you don't want to go antagonizing Gwyneth. Everyone loves a happy medium," he said, his sharp expression melting as he cracked his joke. No one responded to it, not even Freya. The Doctor sighed at the reaction before turning back to Dickens.
"Come on. We might need you," he said. Dickens sighed and moved to sit down between the Doctor and Freya.
"Good man. Now, Gwyneth, reach out," the Doctor commanded gently. Freya squeezed Gwyneth's hand tightly in her, causing Gwyneth to give her a comforting look.
"Speak to us. Are you there? Spirits, come. Speak to us so that we may relieve your burden," Gwyneth called out, staring upwards. Around the room, a sort of whispering started. It began as a quiet murmur but started to grow, grow so that Freya could hear actual voices.
"Can you hear that?" Mr. Sneed asked, glancing around the room fearfully.
"Nothing can happen. This is sheer folly," Charles Dickens scoffed, but even he appeared to be nervous. And his hand was shaking inside of Freya's hand. Gwyneth's eyes were glued upward.
"I see them. I feel them," Gwyneth murmured. Tendrils of gas seemed to be drifting over their heads, the colors eerie. Freya's bad feeling intensified.
"They can't get through the rift. Gwyneth, it's not controlling you. You're controlling it. Now, look deep. Allow them through," the Doctor urged, also staring at the tendrils of colored gas.
"I can't!" Gwyneth exclaimed. Her own hands were shaking now. Freya gripped Gwyneth's hand tighter.
"Yes you can. Just believe it. I have faith in you, Gwyneth. Make the link," the Doctor told her, lowering his gaze from the ceiling to her. Even through Gwyneth wasn't paying attention, his words of encouragement seemed to be all he needed.
"Yes," she murmured. Behind her, outlines of people appeared. They were purple in color, as were the tendril of gas now. A shiver went down Freya's spine. They were not good. This was not good.
"Great God! Spirits from the other side!" Mr. Sneed exclaimed, looking quite horrified from Gwyneth's other side. Freya could share his horror.
"The other side of the universe," the Doctor corrected him, still watching the blue people.
"Pity us. Pity the Gelth. There is so little time. Help us," Gwyneth said in time with two of the figures. The voices sounded almost childlike, temporarily making Freya's heart go out for them. But the bad feeling still remained. Even if they were children, they weren't good children.
"What do you want us to do?" the Doctor asked them. Freya wished he'd listened to her.
"The rift. Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge," the creatures - no, the Gelth – urged.
"What for?" the Doctor asked, almost suspiciously. He glanced over at Freya for the first time since they'd begun the séance, noting her remaining unease.
"We are so very few. The last of our kind. We face extinction," the Gelth said. Their words felt false. Freya had no way of proving it. She had to be going crazy. But the room seemed to be getting colder.
"Why? What happened?" the Doctor asked them.
"Once we had a physical form like you, but then the war came," the Gelth and Gwyneth said in unison.
"War? What war?" Charles Dickens asked, glancing between Freya and the Doctor in confusion.
"The Time War. The whole universe convulsed. The Time War raged. Invisible to smaller species but devastating to higher forms. Our bodies wasted away. We're trapped in this gaseous state," the Gelth explained. The Doctor's entire expression shifted to one of eerie calmness. It frightened Freya more than the coldness in the room. Time War.
He said he was a Time Lord. Did that relate? Was this Time War what killed all of his people? It must have been.
"So that's why you need the corpses," the Doctor said flatly.
"We want to stand tall, to feel the sunlight, to live again. We need a physical form, and your dead are abandoned. They're going to waste. Give them to us," the Gelth pleaded.
"No," Freya said instinctively.
The Doctor's eyes slid over to her.
"Why not?" he questioned her, his tone serious. Freya considered her words. She had nothing. No defense that would convince him of her feelings. She lowered her head.
"Open the rift. Let the Gelth through. We're dying. Help us. Pity the Gelth," the Gelth pleaded as they faded back into the gas lamps on the wall. Gwyneth collapsed onto the table, her hand dropping from Freya's.
"Gwyneth?" Freya asked her new friend quietly. Dickens was murmuring behind her, but she ignored him as she helped Gwyneth up and onto a couchlike piece of furniture.
"You need rest," Freya told the girl gently.
"But my angels miss. They came, didn't they? They need me!" she said urgently. Freya glanced up to see the Doctor standing over them, his eyes full of turmoil.
"They do need you, Gwyneth. You're their only chance of survival," the Doctor said. He shot a look at Freya, daring her to question him. Freya wanted to stand up for Gwyneth.
But she also knew Gwyneth really wanted to do this. Freya said nothing, instead leaving and getting a wet clothe from the kitchen to rest on Gwyneth's forehead. The Doctor, Mr. Sneed, and Charles Dickens al began arguing. She came back and placed it on Gwyneth's forehead just as Gwyneth was speaking up.
"Don't I get a say?" she asked the men in the room. All of them turned on her, almost sheepishly.
"You're just a woman," Mr. Sneed pointed out.
"I know you think I'm stupid. All of you do. Except Miss Freya. Doctor, what do I have to do?" she asked. She reached out and squeezed Freya's hand, which Freya gladly reciprocated.
"You don't have to do anything," the Doctor told her, guarded now at the words Gwyneth had chosen.
"They've been singing to me since I was a child, sent by my mam on a holy mission. So tell me," Gwyneth said, sitting up and taking the cloth from her head. She handed it to Freya who merely sat it on the armrest of the couch.
"We need to find the rift. This house is on a weak spot, so there must be a spot that's weaker than any other. Mr. Sneed, what's the weakest part of this house? The place where most of the ghosts have been seen?" the Doctor asked, spinning on Mr. Sneed.
"That would be the morgue," Mr. Sneed said, looking highly uncomfortable at the conclusion.
"Too bad it wasn't the gazebo," the Doctor murmured.
Mr. Sneed led their small group down a set of stairs to a cold basement. The basement was filled with tables, each holding a dead body under a dingy white sheet. It was even colder down there than it was upstairs. Freya shivered, pulling herself closer to the Doctor.
He glanced down at the girl and shrugged his jacket off once more, handing it to her.
"I might as well just get a second jacket. You seem to wear mine more than me," he grumbled as she slid her arms into the sleeves. The added layer helped keep the cold at bay.
"Ugh. Talk about Bleak House," the Doctor joked, glancing around the grim place. Freya swallowed, working up the urge to speak.
"Doctor, if the Gelth succeed, what happens to them? There weren't corpses walking around in 1869…were there?" Freya asked him.
"Time's in flux, changing every second. Your cozy little world can be rewritten like that. Nothing is safe. Remember that. Nothing," the Doctor warned her.
"Docotor, I think the room is getting colder," Charles Dickens pointed out. Freya had to agree with him. A Gelth drifted out of a gas lamp by the door and stood under a stone archway. Even though it looked like an angel, Freya knew it wasn't. It was something else. Something darker.
"You've come to help us! Praise the Doctor. Praise him!" the Gelth cheered.
"Promise you won't hurt her!" Freya forced the words out of her mouth.
"Hurry. Please, so little time. Pity the Gelth," the Gelth continued, ignoring Freya's words.
"I'll take you somewhere else after the transfer. Somewhere you can build proper bodies. This isn't a permanent solution, all right?" the Doctor told them, glancing back at Freya. He was starting to feel uncomfortable as well. He could at least sense the discomfort Freya had been sensing.
"My angels.I can help them live," Gwyneth said almost joyfully.
"Okay, where's the weak point?" the Doctor asked.
"Here, beneath the arch," the Gelth urged. Freya, who was standing closest to the arch, too a few steps back, stopping only when she bumped into a table. She quickly moved from the table as well.
"Beneath the arch," Gwyneth repeated as she moved towards the arch. She stood underneath it, standing almost inside of the Gelth.
"You don't have to do this," Freya called out. Gwyneth merely gave her a sad sort of smile.
"Establish the bridge. Reach out to the void. Let us through!" the Gelth cried.
"Yes. I can see you. I can see you! Come!" Gwyneth cried, urged.
"Come to me. Come to this world, poor lost souls!" Gwyneth continued.
"It has begun. The bridge is made," the Gelth said. Gwyneth opened her mouth and the blue creatures came through. Freya moved farther back, hitting the table once more.
"She has given herself to the Gelth. The bridge is open. We descend," the Gelth said, turning from a blue to a dark red, sharp teeth appearing. The voice morphed as well from a childlike voice to a harsh voice. Freya shivered as the blue gas started falling into the bodies around her.
"The Gelth will come through in force," the Gelth continued.
"You said that you were few in number!" Charles Dickens protested, eyes wide.
"A few billion. And all of us in need of corpses," the Gelth said almost cheerfully. The dead started to rise. Freya skittered around a dead body, almost running into another in the process. She was grateful they were moving so slow.
"Gwyneth, stop this! Listen to your master. This has gone far enough. Stop dabbling, child, and leave these things alone! I beg of you!" Mr. Sneed begged the girl, just as a corpse came up behind him. Before Freya could even cry out, the corpse had snapped his neck. A Gelth went inside of him.
The Doctor shot her a look, one that was almost apologetic.
"I think it's gone a little bit wrong," he told her. His eyes widened as a dead body grabbed Freya. She twisted and kicked at its knees, hands flailing. Trying to keep it from snapping her neck as it had done Mr. Sneed.
"I have joined the legions of the Gelth. Come, march with us," Mr. Sneed said, his voice sounding identical to that of the other GElth.
"No," Charles Dickens gasped, taking a step back from everything.
"We need bodies. All of you. Dead. The human race. Dead," the Gelth chanted. Freya slammed her elbow back, hearing a snap. She was dropped and she lunged for the Doctor, falling into his arms. She turned back, noticing in horror that the corpse that had been holding her now had a head that was dangling backwards.
She'd snapped his neck, like he'd been trying to do to her. She felt sick at the thought.
But it didn't stop him. The body merely held its head up as it advanced on them.
"Gwyneth, stop them! Send them back now!" the Doctor shouted, helping Freya to stand properly.
"Three more bodies. Convert them. Make them vessels for the Gelth," the Gelth said in unison as they approached the Doctor and Freya.
"Doctor, I can't. I'm sorry. This new world of yours is too much for me," Charles Dickens said as he took off running up the stairs. The Doctor pulled open a gate, shoving Freya inside before slamming it behind him. He used his screwdriver, sonic screwdriver, to lock it, pulling Freya back to the wall.
"Give yourself to glory. Sacrifice your lives for the Gelth," the Gelth droned on.
"I trusted you! I pitied you!" the Doctor shouted back at them.
"We don't want your pity. We want this world and all its flesh," the Gelth continued.
"Not while I'm alive," the Doctor said with a glare that sent a shiver down Freya's spin. She never wanted to be on the receiving end of that glare. It made her blood run cold.
"Then live no more!" the Gelth exclaimed. Freya turned to the Doctor.
"But…I can't die, can I? I haven't been born yet. I can't die if I haven't been born!" Freya begged, hoping he would tell her she was right. But she knew in her mind she was wrong.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, tearing his eyes from the Gelth to look down at her. To see the terror in her own eyes.
"Time isn't a straight line. It can twist into any shape. You can be born in the twentieth century and die in the nineteenth and it's all my fault. I brought you here," the Doctor said grimly.
"It's not your fault. You saved my life," Freya told him, not liking to see grief on his face caused by her. But he wasn't paying attention now.
"What about me? I saw the fall of Troy, World War Five. I pushed boxes at the Boston Tea Party. Now I'm going to die in a dungeon in Cardiff," the Doctor said, almost sounding horrified at the thought.
"It's a morgue. That's worse. And it's not just dying. It's…becoming one of them," Freya said quietly, her voice quivering.
"We can fight them," Freya suggested quietly. The Doctor looked at her, almost surprised at her words.
"Yeah," he said, nodding.
"Together?" Freya asked tentatively. The Doctor gave her a smile before lacing his fingers with hers.
"Yeah. I'm so glad I met you," the Doctor told her earnestly.
"Me too," Freya whispered, only to see Charles Dickens run in from the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around quickly.
"Doctor! Doctor! Turn off the flame, turn up the gas! Now, fill the room, all of it, now!" Charles Dickens exclaimed. Freya turned instinctively to the lamp, but she hadn't the slightest clue how to do what Dickens was saying.
"What're you doing?" the Doctor asked him in disbelief.
"Turn it all on. Flood the place!" Charles Dickens continued, almost excitedly. The Doctor's own eyes lit up as he spun around to the lamp.
"Brilliant! Gas!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"Am I correct, Doctor? These creatures are gaseous!" Charles Dickens exclaimed.
"Fill the room with gas, it'll draw them out of the host! Suck them into the air like the poison from a wound!" the Doctor nodded, doing quickly as Charles Dickens had suggested.
The corpses seemed to have only just realized what Charles Dickens was doing and slowly started to shamble their way towards him.
"I hope, oh Lord, I hope that his theory will be validated soon, if not immediately," Dickens said lightly, but his face showed his true terror.
His words were paired with the Doctor ripping the gas pipe completely from the wall. The Gelth were sucked instantly from the corpses, causing the dead bodies to fall to the ground, lifeless once more. Freya let out a breath of relief, only for the inhalation to send her into a coughing fit.
"It's working!" Charles Dickens exclaimed cheerfully. The Doctor quickly unlocked the metal door and the two of them stumbled out of the small room.
"Gwyneth, send them back. They lied. They're not angels," the Doctor shouted across the room at Gwyneth.
"Liars?" Gwyneth asked. The Doctor frowned, crossing the room quickly. Freya went to follow him but had to stop to cough some more. The air was funny. No. It was the gas. The gas was what was wrong.
"Look at me, Gwyneth. If your mother and father could look down and see this, they'd tell you the same. They'd give you the strength. Now send them back!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"Doctor, your lady friend can't breathe," Charles Dickens said nervously, glancing over at Freya. She was still bent over, trying to steady her breathing and stop from coughing.
"I'm not leaving her!" Freya managed to choke out, taking a shaky step towards the Doctor.
"Charles, get her out," the Doctor ordered. Freya opened her mouth to argue some more but found her vision blurring. Two hands steadied her and she found herself being dragged. She could faintly hear words, but they made no sense.
"Come on, Miss, help me. Move your feet," Charles Dickens urged. They were…going up stairs? Yes. Stairs. Freya did her best to move her feet, fighting the urge to cough once more.
They collided with a wall before Freya was hit by a wall of cold air. Cold, fresh air. Freya stumbled to the ground, only to be dragged a ways from the house. She couldn't care. She was breathing. Fresh air.
Something collided with her and a loud explosion erupted, causing her eardrums to ring. Freya's eyes opened blearily to see the Doctor over her. He stood up, pulling her up by her hand. Freya's eyes shot back towards the house. It was gone.
Gwyneth was nowhere in sight.
Freya's eyes shot back to the Doctor.
"Where's Gwyneth?" Freya asked him.
"I'm sorry. She closed the rift," the Doctor told her solemnly. Freya's wide eyes filled with tears at the words. The Doctor's own expression was filled with regret as he pulled Freya to him, folding her into his arms.
"At such a cost. The poor child," Charles Dickens murmured.
"I really did try, Freya. You have to know I tried. She was already dead. Gwyneth died the moment she stepped under the arch," the Doctor told her, whispering the words into her hair.
"But she spoke to us. She helped us!" Freya protested, her words muffled by the Doctor's shirt.
"She saved the world. A servant girl. And no one will ever know," Freya said sadly. The Doctor didn't move.
And she didn't remember moving at all after that as well.
When she woke up, she was in her room on the TARDIS. Well, she assumed it was her room. It was the room she woke up in when she didn't wake up in the hospital area.
Med-bay. A voice provided for her. The voice didn't sound like anything in particular.
Freya sat up slowly. Yes. It did. It felt like the TARDIS.
She felt the laughter at her conclusion, proving that she was indeed right.
You ought to get ready for an adventure. My thief is getting worried and antsy.
Freya jumped from her bed. A thief? Someone had stolen the TARDIS? Why wasn't the TARDIS more concerned? Should she be concerned. The laughter resumed in her head.
No. My thief. The Doctor. He stole me, long ago. Like he stole you.
The words threw Freya. He hadn't stolen her…had he? Was that what he'd done? She'd originally assumed he was going to kidnap her. But he hadn't acted like a kidnapper would. And he was taking her on adventures.
And he had saved her life.
But why was the TARDIS saying he stole her?
Because he did. You're his now. You are his until he lets you go. He sees you as his.
The words worried Freya. Was she property to him? Was that what the TARDIS meant? And it must have read her thoughts. That meant Freya didn't have to look like a lunatic, talking to thin air.
But what exactly did the TARDIS mean?
It means you should stay with him. Stay with him, until he tries to leave you. And I won't let him succeed. Stay with him. You belong to him.
Belong? Freya bit her bottom lip at the word. Belong? She entered the closet, mulling over the troubling words. Was she only a possession now? Was that what happened to her? Was that what the Doctor viewed her as?
It will all be clear, one day, dear Freya.
I know it was mentioned in the first chapter that the Doctor was a thief, but it's been awhile and Freya's been taking in a lot. Give her time. ;) What do you think? How do you feel about that? You should feel excited! It'll be beautiful in the next chapter! So give me a lot of reviews! The more reviews, the more likely I am to update faster! :) Otherwise it'll be about a week in between updates.
I hope this story stays original. That was one of my biggest worries with it, that it would morph into every other Doctor Who OC fanfiction. I hope it's shaping up to be different. And don't worry! Rose doesn't completely disappear! We do still need her (haha)!
Andi