THE CHASE

When the Doctor met Billy on the stairs, the former DI Shipton was carrying a satchel in one hand, much as the Doctor had been, not fifteen minutes ago. As the Doctor was explaining what he wanted, Martha locked up the flat and turned up on the stairs with them.

"But why does it have to be me?" asked Billy.

"Because Martha's her daughter who hasn't been born yet and who is, in fact, older than she is right now," the Doctor explained, machine-gun style. "She should have as little contact with Martha as possible. And as for me, well... she's never trusted me. Not to mention, she cannot recognise me when she meets me again in 2007."

Billy sighed. "Okay. But I have a date with Sally tonight, so we have to make it quick."

"Sure thing," the Doctor said. "Just a quick stop at our favourite creepy mansion."

"What for?" Martha wanted to know.

"We need that DNA signature detector," he told her. "If you can narrow down the street, even if you aren't sure which house, maybe we can get a reading on the contraption.

They all exited through the front door, Billy not even having stopped at home first. On the way down the block, Martha asked him, "What's in the satchel?"

"It's a video camera," Billy told her. "A very primitive one. Pfitzinger gave it to me to test out. He said to film something interesting and the research team will attempt to replicate it with one hundred per cent picture quality."

"Aww," Martha said. "It's almost cute."

"Yeah," Billy chuckled. "I can't wait 'til digital. I'm really going to look clever then!"

On the tube, and as they walked, they discussed what Billy might say to Frannie when he saw her. As they approached Wester Drumlins, the Doctor said, "All right, if she's outside, let me hear what you'll say."

Billy cleared his throat. "Say, aren't you that girl I saw at that big house a few weeks ago?"

"You're a little stiff," the Doctor told him.

"Well, what do you want from me? I'm a copper, not an actor!"

"Okay, fine. Try it one more time, and try not to clip your syllables so much."

"Are you sure that's not just my accent?" Billy asked, exasperated.

"Quite sure. Try it again."

"Say, aren't you that girl I saw at that big house a few weeks ago?"

"Better. Now..."

"Doctor," Martha warbled as they got close to the fence surrounding the house. She pointed down, just on the other side of the partition, where the DNA recognition device sat. It was vibrating like mad, flipping itself over and over, upsetting the dried leaves on the ground.

"She's here!" the Doctor gasped.

Without hesitation, the Doctor and Martha sprinted onto the grounds of Wester Drumlins, but the angels were nowhere in sight. That could only mean one thing: they had zeroed in on their prey elsewhere. After a quick stop and a glance around, the Doctor headed off to the left.

"You go the other way!" he called back at her. "Keep your eyes open, Martha!"

Back on the pavement where they had left Billy, he was fumbling with what felt to him like an ancient piece of equipment. He had thought that this could be the interesting thing caught on film, so turned on the recording function and set the camera down on a waist-high stump just inside the grounds. The viewfinder showed the entire front of the house, including four windows and the front porch.

And then, he went off in yet a third direction, toward the formal gardens. He left the house to the professionals.


The Doctor entered the house through the back kitchen door. He looked up and saw the hole apparently left by Frannie's kid sister Letitia, who had fallen through the floor weeks before.

"Frannie?" he called out. He knew she shouldn't see him, but he hadn't been prepared for the possibility that she'd be here right now, and already inside the house! He'd panicked and run. No time to dwell on the future now, not with this much at stake. He had reassured Martha that she absolutely would not cease to exist, but now, he wasn't so sure. And he couldn't lose her – he had to find that little klepto before it was too late!

He ventured up the back staircase. They looked questionable, but he wasn't planning on staying on them long. He sprinted up, and found himself standing in front of a large, glossed-over window which contained several lovely pieces of stained glass. He had admired this from the outside, but had never contemplated what it might be like to be this near to it from within. He liked it – it reminded him oddly of the view of the planet Hervang from the observatory of the TARDIS.

And when he was finished with this reverie, he turned.

A stone angel was baring her teeth and snarling, approximately two feet from where he was standing. His hearts each skipped two beats as he nearly ran smack into her. She reached out to him hungrily, her stone-cold eyes seeing him through their dead film. She stood absolutely still, and for an earth-shattering moment, so did he. He stared back at her, trying not to blink, as though they were both incapable of movement.

"Oh, you think you're so clever, don't you?" whispered the Doctor. "But I'm onto you. Oh, yes."

And then he found his faculties again. He glanced over the shoulder of the angel and saw two more, both pointed at the same destination. One was reaching out toward one of the bedroom doors, and the other was headed there as well. The one closest to him was still visible out of the corner of his eye, and he moved to his right, so as to keep all three within his line of sight. He stayed still for a moment, weighing his options. There was no way he could simply dash back down the stairs – they were unbelievably fast, and would catch him for sure. There was no way he could destroy them without taking his gaze from one of them or the other, and anyway, he had no desire to do that. He needed to tread slowly, carefully, stay in a position to keep them in sight. He moved to his right, farther away from all three angels, across from the bedroom door.

And then he heard a sound, coming from the bedroom where the angels were headed. The sound of looting, the sound of trinkets being moved about.

"Frannie!" he cried out. "Frannie, are you in there?"

The movement stopped dead. He knew she'd heard him.

"Come out here, right now, Frannie Obeng! You are in serious danger! I can help, just come through the door now."

Keeping his gaze trained on all three angels was not easy – the things stood at least ten feet apart, and they were only stationery because he kept them in his peripheral vision. But he was going to have blink some time. He wished he had just one more person...

"Martha!" he cried out. "Martha where are you? I could use a little help! Billy? Are you in the house?"

But neither answered. His eyes began to water. He was a threat to the angels now, standing in the way of their next meal, and oh, what hearty eating was a Time Lord all by himself! The potential energy he carried would make them fat and happy for decades. They wanted him now. If he blinked, it was all over. Martha would be left behind here, unable to fly the TARDIS, unable to find him. He supposed he could plant clues... the thought of it made him feel suddenly exhausted.

He wanted to blink so badly.

"Frannie!" he yelled again. "Get out here! Your life depends on it! All of our lives depend on it!"

He heard movement. He heard a bit of scraping against the door. She was leaning on it, listening.

"Frannie, listen – I know you're listening. I know you love this old house, but it's dangerous here. There are forces that you don't understand. Have you ever noticed the angel statues? Have you ever thought you saw one move out of the corner of your eye? Ever fancied that it had moved just a bit closer to you after you turned your back? I know you have. And you're right – they are moving closer to you. They are trying to hurt you, and you need to get out of this house right now. I need you to open the door. Please, just open the door, and I can help you."

He heard the doorknob slowly twist. A bit of light then shined through the slit between the door and the wall, and Frannie Obeng's young face showed itself in the gap. She looked up at the angel which was reaching out to her, and she made a frightened little noise and stepped back. Her gaze was terrified. The Doctor had not seen the face of the angel she was looking at, but he could guess that it was in its bloodthirsty stance.

"It's okay, Frannie, it's okay," he said, not looking at her, but keeping his eyes on the angels. "Walk to me. Slowly."

She did. "Is this for real?" she croaked out, now clearly scared out of her wits. For all her skulking about, nothing had prepared her for the timbre of dread in the Doctor's voice, or for opening the bedroom door to find a stone statue trying to kill her. She took her place beside him and instinctively grabbed onto his arm.

"I wish it weren't," he told her. "Now, can you do me a favour? Can you look at that angel over there on the left"

"Why?" she asked, nevertheless obeying.

"Because if you can see them, they can't hurt you. I know that sounds like crazy monster-in-your-closet stuff, but it's true."

"Okay," she conceded. "I'm looking at it. Now what?"

He stared at the two near the bedroom door. "You don't take your eyes off that angel, do you hear me? I'm going to get us out of here, but you have to trust me."

"Okay."

"I'm serious – trust me. Do everything I tell you, can you do that, Francine?"

"I think so."

Still locked arm-in-arm, he led her toward the front stairs, opposite of how he had come up, each of them keeping their eyes on the angels. Frannie protested that she couldn't go down the stairs backwards, but the Doctor assured her she could. He promised to catch her if she fell. "Who will catch you?" she asked.

"Worrying, always worrying," he said, still guiding her slowly down the stairs. "You can trust me, when will you learn that?"

The two near the bedroom door were visible from their vantage point when they were halfway down, but Frannie lost sight of the singular angel. But it wasn't long before it appeared at the top of the stairs, arms over its head, terrifyingly baring its teeth. Frannie let out a scream. She began to tremble violently against his arm, and lost her footing for a moment. For a horrible second as he caught her, he thought they both might fall.

"Be careful, Francine! No breaking your neck – I need you healthy! I'm not losing Martha!"

"What?" she spat, managing to be confused through her terror.

He caught her, caught his own footing, and said, "Never mind, just don't fall, okay?"

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, the Doctor carefully extended one foot behind him, just to make sure he'd have floor underneath him. The other two angels were now at the top of the stairs – all three gazed down, stony-faced at him and Frannie. They'd have to continue to move backwards if they were going to survive.

"Just don't take your eyes off them," he whispered. "Try not to blink."

They stood still for a few moments. Frannie finally ventured to say, her voice shaking, "Why did you call me Francine?"

He almost took his gaze away from the angels to look at her. "I didn't," he insisted.

"Yes, you did, twice."

"Well, that's your name, isn't it?"

She hesitated. "How did you know that? Who are you?"

He sighed. Normally, in this sort of danger, he would confess that he was the Doctor. But he couldn't risk it – not with the future Francine Jones. So he said, "John Smith."

"And you know Martha?" she asked. "That weird woman who was here the other night when my sister fell?"

"Yes, I know her. She's... a friend of mine."

Frannie managed a nervous little chuckle. "You hesitated. She's got to be your girlfriend, at least! Am I right?"

He exhaled, annoyed. "We're in a deserted mansion, stone statues want to kill us, and you're asking personal questions!"

And then for a moment, he swooned with déjà vu. He had said something remarkably similar, in remarkably a similar tone of voice, to Martha when he'd first met her. That day in 2007 when Royal Hope Hospital went to the moon, and amid the chaos, he'd found one medical student who seemed for him a good companion. One among many who was both beautiful and brave. That was their first adventure together. That was the first time they'd kissed. And that was the night when her insane family had driven her into his TARDIS – this cheeky girl standing next to him, in fact, had been instrumental in Martha's snap decision to leave.

This cheeky girl had given him Martha. And not just because she would become an overly-protective mother, but she was the mother. She was the one who would, fifteen years from now, bring Martha Jones into the world. For that, he could not be annoyed with her.

His memories of Martha flooded his mind, all in a split second. Their first meeting, when she had almost literally touched his hearts. When she was put out by the Carrionites and for a moment, he thought she had died. When she was kidnapped on New Earth and he became obsessive about getting her back. He felt the full weight of guilt and pain over causing her to feel second best for so long, and even the memory of the moment when she let him know she loved him was painful. He thought about when he realised he loved her too, the first time they'd made love...

"Fine, fine, whatever," Frannie sighed, snapping him from his reverie.

"Now listen," he said to her. "There is still one more angel somewhere, but I don't know where it is. Martha and another friend of ours are on the house grounds somewhere, so it's likely that the other angel is contained, but we can't be certain. You keep those three in your line of vision, and I'm going to look about and try to find the fourth angel. Can you do that?"

The fear returned. "Don't leave me!" she begged.

"No, I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going to turn away for a few seconds, that's all."

She gulped. "Okay." Her voice was fragile now, as it had been before. The brief cheek had fully gone, and now she was appropriately frightened again. But before he could turn, she asked, "Mr. Smith? Why are you doing this? Why would you help me? I mean, what do you or Martha have to do with me?"

He thought for a moment. What could he say?

"She just wants you safe," he told her. "And what she wants, I want."

"You love her."

"Yes."

"And if something happened to me, she'd leave you?"

"Maybe."

"Okay then. Lead the way."

And once more, before he could turn and search for the fourth angel, he was interrupted. The most heart-stopping sound of his life cut through the air bluntly, jagged, like a dull axe. It was Martha's desperate, terrified voice screaming at the top of her lungs. She was screaming for her life.

"DOCTOR!" she shrieked.

Without thinking, he turned toward the sound. The window at his back showed a large expanse of the grounds in front of the house, and the curtains were ripped, exposing the glass. He had turned just in time to see a the royal purple streak of Martha's dress as she ran for her life, ripping with a loud pop out of this time and place, as she was touched by an angel.

Abruptly, her cry was stifled and silence hung in the air.

All that remained in the yard was a still stone angel with its finger pointing to the spot where Martha Jones had been taken.

Frannie gasped violently, and the Doctor's hearts stopped.

No no no no no....! Not again! This will not happen to me again!

"Martha!" he screamed, as he tore toward the front door.