Lucy practically threw herself onto her bed once she and the Doctor were inside. She was tired, bone deep tired. And for what felt like the first time in a very long time, she slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

The Doctor looked in on Lucy. She was sleeping, fully clothed and on top of the sheets and covers. The Doctor strode in and pulled the quilt at the foot of the bed over Lucy, looking down at the only outward sign of all her struggles. A single, thin white scar that could only be seen well under a light, peeked out on her right cheekbone. She had no other scars from the mirror, from what he could see. He recalled, with sickening clarity the amount of blood pooled around her when she'd first fallen out. He remembered how there had been no rise and fall in her chest, no air at all. He'd lost so many people. He'd lost so many people due to his own actions and Lucy Blake would not be one of them. He just briefly touched the thin white scar on Lucy's cheekbone and left, brooding as usual.

Lucy awoke slowly, like she was trying to swim through soup. She finally managed to rise and saw that she had been covered by the quilt she never used and just stored at the foot of her bed. Had she, in her exhausted fogginess put it over herself? Or had the Doctor come in to check on her? Probably the latter, he had seemed somewhat shaken when they'd left the hospital. Curious that someone as traveled, experienced and other-worldly as him would take suck an interest in her. She though back to New Year's Eve, to when he'd kissed her at midnight. Had he been able to feel her shaking? Had he known that his approval, his respect was all she wanted? Not that she was throwing her life away for some man. Some alien, she corrected herself. As she sat up in bed, she put her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. God, she was daft. She traveled with him, that was all. She was no more than a glorified accomplice. Well, maybe a bit more than that. He was the best friend she'd had since her own twin sister that was for sure. She rubbed her eyes a bit and staggered to the shower in her bathroom, trying not to look into the mirror. Ten minutes later, she was out and trying to convince herself that nothing was in the mirror, she wouldn't disappear again and there was no awful little girl trying to kill her. She put on her make-up as quickly, yet efficiently as she could. When she was done she walked over to the large rich brown, dark wooden armoire that was nearly as tall as her. She opened it, selecting a sweater-dress that was a sleeveless turtleneck. Under that she put on black leggings and black ballet shoes. The bottoms were worn from actual use and she stretched her toes a bit, missing the feel of dancing on Pointe, though not the actual pain in her feet and toes for days afterward. She did a plie, then a double pirouette, landing briefly in fourth position. She swiftly raised her right leg, toe pointing high over her head then swung it back down, leaning her body forward, right leg behind her in a perfect arabesque. As she stood herself upright she heard, "Impressive." coming from her doorway. She looked up, blushing at the Doctor, leaning against the frame and raising his eyebrows. "Yeah well, I have my moments." She said stiffly. He smirked and jerked his head forward.

"Come on then, I was about to set sail, then realised we don't have a destination and I thought I'd let you pick. Not China." When Lucy didn't answer, he waved his hand in front of her face and she started.

"Sorry! Sorry, I was thinking about that mirror. It was a bit like Through the Looking Glass, you know? You see something in the mirror on your side that isn't quite right and then all of a sudden, you're in a completely different place that's actually mostly the same. I mean, when I was there, it was like I was looking at the same things, only backwards. Christ, there was even a little lost girl!" The Doctor said nothing, just frowned a bit and held out an arm for her to walk into. He wrapped the arm around her and rested his head on top of hers. "It's alright, Lucy, she's gone. That mirror's broken, and I'd wager all the ones she took people from are gone as well." Lucy only nodded, pulling away, saying, "Well. I was actually doing some thinking. I haven't been to the future yet. I've been to other planets, the past, but not the future. And then I though, what if there are multiple possible futures, like you know the butterfly effect? If I do something one way, it could change what will happen later on."

"But you can't pick the future you want to go to. I need coordinates."

"Fair enough. Any old future then, you pick."

"Better idea, we'll make it random! More fun that way." The Doctor grinned and Lucy just couldn't help grinning back. The Doctor then walked over to the controls, twisted a few knobs, pushed a few buttons, and they were off.

Lucy was the first to bound outside, but when she looked round, her main feeling was….confusion. The Doctor followed her out and shared her expression, though his might have been a show.

"But…Doctor, this looks exactly the same. We're not in that alley near my flat, but still. This is London, it's just London, no different. How far into the future did we go? I was hoping for a few years, at least, but this looks like it could be next Tuesday."

The Doctor ignored her and was walking to a park bench. On it was another handy stack of newspapers. "It's Sunday, 15 March, 2099."

"So we've gone almost a hundred years into my future, and it looks exactly the same?"

"Well, be fair, we haven't done any exploring yet, there could be loads different."

Lucy frowned, biting her lower lip. He was right, of course. For all she knew, this was the only thing like her London. And sure enough, as she was looking at the street, a hover car came zooming by at 40 kilometers an hour. "Did you see that, Doctor? A hover car, a proper hover car! Oh, this is brilliant!" Lucy was practically jumping up and down and the Doctor was standing, hands in his pockets, grinning at her. As the wind blew her long, black hair, she grinned and turned to him, still giddy.

"Doctor, this is perfect, and before we leave you have to let me drive one of those things." She said, quite matter-of-factly. He only nodded, as if to say, "We'll see what we can do." They walked along the street, and Lucy started to wonder where all the people were. Sure, it was Sunday, and most people would be off work, kids not in school. But there was no one walking about. Maybe it was banned. Maybe they'd get in trouble for just strolling along. The Doctor seemed to share Lucy's sentiments and guided her by the elbow into a very large corporate building. They looked round, and everything was immaculate. Cleaner than a hospital, practically. The couches were all c-shaped and pale blue, looking like they'd never been sat on. The high walls were all painted slate grey and completely devoid of any decoration. Behind a silvery grey desk sat a very polished woman. She looked to be in her late-twenties and had a short, severe blond haircut, and grey eyes behind small round spectacles. She looked up as they entered and said in a snappish tone, "What is your business here? Do you have an appointment? This premises is not for tourism." She glared at the two of them, as though daring them to come nearer. The Doctor and Lucy did just that, the Doctor pulling out the psychic paper and flashing it at her, smiling all the while. She looked embarrassed and then said, looking down, sounding flustered. "Oh, forgive me, ambassador. I didn't realize Mr. Finch was expecting you. Please, through that door, and all the way down the hallway. It's the last door on the right." The Doctor smiled by way of thanks, and Lucy offered the woman a little wave. "So what does that say we are, then? Ambassador for where?"

"Australia, apparently. Oh, and you're my wife."

"Your what?" Lucy almost shouted, following after him. He didn't answer her, but she could have sworn he was chuckling to himself. They finally reached the last door on the right.

The Doctor had wondered why the name "Finch" had sounded so familiar since the receptionist said it. Did he know a Mr. Finch? As he pushed the door open, and saw the man standing at the head of the otherwise empty table, he recongised him immediately.

The Doctor just stood there, looking at Mr. Finch, the leader of the Krillitanes.

Mr. Finch finally looked up. When he spied the Doctor, a smile crossed his face, and when Lucy stepped out from behind his shoulder, he all but grinned.

"Doctor, it's been too long. And you have a new friend. What happened to the blond girl, Rose I think her name was?" The Doctor didn't answer. Lucy chanced a glance at his face, and saw that is was grim. Suspicious, even angry.

"What are you up to now, Mr. Finch? Still killing children to harvest the best parts of them? Oh, this one's thin, this one's clever. What form do you take now?"

"Generally human, as I said to you before, it is a favourite. We visisted Jupiter's ice moon Europa and found there a civilization of people who had these wonderful gills. You should have seen their cities, Doctor. All brightly lit, and luminescent in the water. We found their gills quite useful and adapted. We also adapted the thick, leathery hide of the Gallgosa people."

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here. If you have any plans to-"

"I must confess, Doctor, I have been waiting for you. I know Earth is your favourite planet and thought I'd run in to you at some point. I did tell you that we would meet again. And that you would be one of us." Mr. Finch's cold eyes locked onto the Doctor's. Lucy could tell there was no lost love between this seemingly old man and the Doctor. She was burning with questions, but thought it best to stay silent. One learned just as well that way.

"Oh, get over it, Finch, I'm never joining you, and you know it. Now go on, you have no business, here."

"On the contrary, I may have found just what I've been looking for." And now, Mr. Finch turned his cold, hungry eyes directly on Lucy. The Doctor made to move in front of her, but Lucy knew that this was her time. She stepped in front of him and stood feet apart, fists clenched and jaw straight. Her own stormy eyes were cold and mistrusting.

"Tell me who you are." She said.

The old man smiled at her and said, "I am the leader of the Krillitanes. We are a people of adaptation, evolution, much like the Doctor here. We find bits of different species and take what we want of them. In this way, we survive for so long. But I am getting old, my dear. I am much older than this body would suggest and you have come in here with exactly what I need."

"And what would that be?"

"Your ability to survive, my pet. That uncanny knack you have, that is what I crave."

Lucy felt the blood leave her face. What did these people keep going on about her survival for? She was nothing special. Now the Doctor did pull her back, keeping his right hand crossed over her, clutching her right elbow.

"It doesn't matter what you crave because you're not getting it. If you're getting old, take it as a hint, it's time to die."

"Hypocrite! How many faces have you had now? Ten? Ten regenerations, and you look so young. How old are now? Surely it's time for you to die?" And with that, Mr. Finch, the leader of the Krillitanes morphed. He turned into a strange being with black leathery skin, green glowing eyes, pointed fangs and gills. He charged at the Doctor, who threw Lucy into the hall in front of him and they ran. Lucy swore she had lost a pound or two with all the running they'd done. She had no idea where they were headed, but if she did have a latent sense, it was finding her way through a building. She remembered the walk down here and sure enough, there was the staircase coming up on her left. She tore up and looked behind her to see the Doctor hot on her heels. She could hear the scuttling, sinuous pad of Mr. Finch's leathery feet. Lucy quickened her pace, using the hand rails to boost her up two and three steps at a time. On the sixth floor, the Doctor burst in front of her and pulled her into an annex that seemed abandoned. The entire room was dark and dusty and probably hadn't been used in years. They hid behind several filing cabinets. Lucy wondered what for? Mr. Finch could probably smell them and had been quick to follow them; every turn they had made on the staircase, he had been just behind. And sure enough, he came padding into the room, sniffing around. His green eyes, so like a cat's and yet so reptilian, glittered in the dark. "The time for games is past, Doctor. I will find you. I will have your brilliance and the girl's life." Mr. Finch had already walked past the two of them, perhaps, despite his words, trying to trap them in a game of cat and mouse. The Doctor bolted out from behind the filing cabinets, tearing into the hallway and dashing up the stairs. Before tearing out herself, Lucy pushed the filing cabinets in front of her, hoping to stall Mr. Finch. It was foolish, but it might actually work, and anyway, it didn't matter now, she was right behind the Doctor on the stairs. On the eighth floor, the Doctor stopped again and motioned to the window through which the fire escape was visible. Lucy led the way onto it, then let the Doctor go in front of her. When she halted and made no move to climb up, he turned round, eyes wide and pleading. Then he saw her plan. Mr. Finch was closing in on them only slightly hampered by Lucy's pushing the file cabinets in front of him. So when he came to the window, grinning, if that's what it could be called, she kicked the heavy wooden jam and it fell on his black, leathery arms. He hissed and squealed in pain and only then did Lucy turn tail and start to run up the fire escape with the Doctor.

Not ten seconds later, Mr. Finch had already freed himself from the window's grip. Lucy heard his labored breathing, the stench coming off his strange body and quickened her pace, practically shoving the Doctor in front of her.

Finally, they were on the roof. On the positive side, they could stop running, on the negative, they were sort of trapped. And there came Mr. Finch all leathery hide, glowing eyes and incongruous gills. Lucy was breathing heavy now, and scared. She wasn't so sure about her ability to survive; it certainly seemed to have run out at any rate. The Doctor, also breathing hard, pulled her behind him, only a few meters from the edge, all the while staring down Mr. Finch.

At once, Mr. Finch turned back into his human form, his "favourite" form. The suit he wore looked expensive and not a single stitch was out of place. He dusted himself off however and cracked his neck. He trained his cold eyes on Lucy, who couldn't resist peeking out from behind the Doctor's back.

"Give her up, old friend. You've nowhere to go now. I don't see the T.A.R.D.I.S. anywhere. I know you, Doctor. You won't kill me, it's against your nature, your rules. Although…maybe not. You have changed so, despite your never aging appearance."

"I've changed for the better, Mr. Finch. I was so angry when last we met. I was angry and vindictive and lost. But Rose changed that. She made me calm again, and I'm calmer than I ever was. And you won't lay a hand on Lucy."

Mr. Finch only smiled and morphed in the blink of an eye, back to his gilled, leathery form. He charged at the Doctor, who made to shove Lucy out of the way. But Lucy was holding on tight and wouldn't let him. With all the strength she could muster, she shoved him aside and braced herself. As Mr. Finch saw that Lucy was alone, he started to morph back into human form. But before he could, Lucy punched hard into his left gills, keeping her fist between the slats. He choked, turning alternately human and true Krillitane. Finally, she let go and Mr. Finch tumbled, human formed to the ground. She looked away before he could hit and heard the sickening crunch from forty stories up.

The Doctor was walking over to her and he held her, seeing her shocked face.

"Breathe, Lucy. You're alright; I told you he wouldn't lay a hand on you." But Lucy was pushing away and said to his confused face, "I killed him, Doctor. I didn't mean to but I killed him. I-"

"Ssh, hush now. I know." And he said no more, just gently nudged her in front of him and let her lead the way back to the fire escape, down every flight of stairs, down the long hallway past the empty conference room and past the severe receptionist and onto the now busy street below. People were gathering all around Mr. Finch's body. The Doctor tugged Lucy into a corner so they wouldn't be seen. The police had already arrived, and clearly the Doctor didn't want to be questioned, or seen leaving the building. People were already haranguing the police, asking them what had happened, like they knew everything. Lucy heard snatches of conversation, the sirens were starting to drown everything out.

"Musta jumped, poor bloke."

"Dad, is he dead? Is he really dead?"

"What would make a person do such a thing? Honestly, the way things are headed…"

"That's Mr. Finch, that is. He handled me accounts, cost me a fortune."

And then the severe receptionist came running out. She was shocked, they both could see, clutching one hand to her breast, the other to her mouth. The police immediately walked over to her, suspicion on their faces; why was she looking round the whole place, searching? They said something to her and she said in a frantic voice, "Well he was meeting with the ambassador for Australia and his wife." The two coppers cast doubtful looks at each other and turned back to her; she wasn't finished.

"He was! He was a tall man, skinny with this dark hair, and his wife, this thin pretty thing, they was just here, they was!" And the Doctor and Lucy took that as their cue to leave. They hurried across the street to where the T.A.R.D.I.S., the most welcome sight in the world, sat waiting for them. As they got in and closed the door, Lucy could have sworn she heard the receptionist say, "Well that's them there, in that big blue box!" But by the time the coppers had turned round, they were gone.

Lucy heaved a sigh of relief. She was exhausted again, but she was safe. She had managed to convince herself that is wasn't really her fault Mr. Finch had died. She was defending herself and he certainly would have killed her, or stolen her essence, had she not. But something was still puzzling her.

"D'you reckon he was alone, Doctor? He said he was the leader of the Krillitanes. So where were the rest of them?"

The Doctor nodded and said, "I'd thought of that as well. It is rare for Krillitanes to be out on their own, but Finch said he was waiting for me. Maybe he got power hungry, didn't want the rest of the clan in on getting their hands on me. At any rate, we beat him and he won't hurt anyone again." Lucy nodded, biting her lip.

The Doctor could tell that something was bothering her, but also that she didn't want to talk about it.

"So where to next, Lucy Blake? You got your trip to the future, and I'll wager it was a bit more hectic than you bargained for, and I'm really sorry you didn't get to drive one of those hover cars."

Lucy just laughed, she seemed to have forgotten all about them. Still smiling, she looked up at the ceiling, as though that would give her the answer and said, "I fancy another trip to the past, I think. Farther though, this time. Let's go to Ireland! Oh, I don't know, round 1800's? Sound good?" The Doctor just smiled and pulled a lever, twisted a knob and they were off. Lucy could feel that now familiar jolt that took her off her feet, but that also filled her with such joy.

"We're off." The Doctor said, grinning at her, chocolate brown eyes glittering in such a warm, wonderful way.

They certainly were.