A good soldier is never afraid when they are captured. A good soldier knows the score. You give up nothing. Ever. No matter what they do to you, however vile, however painful, however disgusting, you give up nothing.

A long time ago, Jessica Apple was a sort of a soldier. They called the Little Ghost then. Normally, she doesn't like to think about it. It was never something she really chose to be involved in. They made her into a soldier, her former owners. And when they made her, they made her without hearing and without voice.

There were all sorts of reasons for this. Quite a number of the reasons turned out to be lies, little delusions she was fed to make sure she stayed on their side. One which turned out to be true is that a deaf-mute agent is a very silly thing for anyone to capture. You can't, for instance, torture them into screaming out the secrets, can you?

Jessica wishes very much that she was still a deaf-mute today.

All those hours ago, the Doctor sent her away from the hospital. "Jessica," he said, "am to be going out and finding MissusToffee person. Must be being much-much careful, Jessica, because her am being much-much dangerous. Not goes near her, only watches. To be finding out where stays, and if is having man with her, who am tall, bald man called Louis. Him also am being bad, much dangerous, not going near, please, Deargirl. Right-yes?"

It was important. She could tell from his voice and his… the lookings in the eyes… There's a word for it, but that's as much as Jessica knows. She could tell, that's all. And, being very good at missions, she was happy to take this on and go and find the bad enemies.

Reconnaissance. That's the first thing you need in any war.

She must have done it wrong. Her heart sinks at just the thought. The Doctor was depending on her and it was so important, but she must have done it wrong.

Firstly, she found a taxi driver making a phone call about MissusToffee. While he was talking, she crept up to his car and asked the onboard computer to tell her where he'd just been. That gave her the hotel, and she went there happy and bright. Thought she was doing well up until then. Maybe her mistake was already made, but she can't spot what it might be.

She crept past the desk clerk and started on the stairs. As she climbed, she saw the top of someone's head looking around the corner at the top, and tucked herself into an alcove. When she glanced again, no one was watching, and she climbed a few more stairs.

Then, somehow, there was a person behind her. She turned, in case it was the clerk, but no; it was a pretty lady, in a long blue dress. Looking very, very annoyed. "Being MissusToffee?" Jessica asked, knowing that any attempt at stealth or cover would be futile now. She shut her eyes for a second, feeling caught and ashamed.

When she opened them, there were no stairs between them anymore. MissusToffee had her by the back of the collar. Jessica struggled, but then, somehow, there were no stairs between them and the top corridor. She called for help, stretching back toward the lobby. But from nowhere, the clerk was suddenly wearing huge, red ear-defenders, and couldn't hear her.

By the time Jessica lifted her head again, a door was slamming on her.

"Hush, hush," said a voice. "Quiet, love." For a moment she could have sworn it was the voice of the Doctor. She stopped struggling and craned to get a look at him. He didn't seem to be there, though, just his voice. "Hush, now, it's alright." A hand reached up from behind and drew her hair back over her shoulder, lifted it out of her face. It was white and slim and wore a diamond ring and Jessica panicked again, "No, no, that's alright. Come along now. You must be feeling heavy as lead. Come and lie down here. Why, you're no more than a living statue, like marble…"

As Jessica's arm hardened and cooled, she tried to fling up at the source of this voice, but her shoulder was seized. She tried to spin around and see who could do this to her, but her feet had fixed themselves facing forward. She could do almost nothing, and yet the person who guided her had no problem pushing her ahead.

Jessica was being brought across the enormous suite. Whether she was made of marble or not, she still knew there was deep carpet under her feet. Though she couldn't move her head to look, she saw the gilded frames of the paintings and mirrors go by on either side. She saw the bed ahead, getting closer without her ever having to take a single step. It was the size of the cell she'd grown up in all on its own. Five of her old mattress on top of each other wouldn't have been so deep as this one. The four posts reach up, intricately carved, on either corner, and the velvet swags sink on either side like sleep itself coming down.

She did not want that.

Didn't have a choice, though; there was a hand in her back, still pushing her forward, closer to it. And when it brought her there, though Jessica herself couldn't move one single joint, the hands were able to lay her down in comfort on the feather pillows.

That was when she saw her. MissusToffee was clearing the Doctor's voice out of her throat with a little cough, and she sat on the edge of the bed with Jessica's cold, stony hand in hers.

Slowly, over her shoulder, the tall, bald man appeared.

To test, Jessica tried to ask if his name was being Louis. Her question eked out between sealed teeth, until MissusToffee tapped a forefinger at the joint of her jaw and it sprang open again.

He seemed to understand enough, "Yes, that's me." Then grinned at MissusToffee, "What a catch!" He clapped a hand down on her bare shoulder. Jessica could just see how scared and stiff MissusToffee became, how big her eyes went. She saw enough to be afraid.

Louis walked away, taking MissusToffee with him. They seemed, for a while, to forget about her. Jessica lay perfectly still (something she didn't have a lot of choice in) and fought hard to move her limbs.

But she listened too. Louis said, "Take her shape, go to the Doctor," and Jessica is almost sure her little finger twitched.

"Agreed. He talks to her. Personal things, I mean. It's my best shot at finding out what to offer him."

"No!" Jessica barked. "Not does! Him am not ever giving up for them, not for any prizes, never! Doctor am being real person, real soul, much big hearts and them am never to be having any of him!"

"…Could you kindly seal her mouth again before you leave, my dear?"

The high-heeled footsteps started back across the room.

"Please, MissusToffee, not does. Because… because…" Jessica couldn't think of a because, and floundered. Then it came to her. Suddenly very clear. The Doctor told her this secret before; whenever you can't think of something to say, it's because you already said it earlier. "Because Missus!" she cried. "If is being Missus then is having Mister and is having love! People who am having love am not being bad peoples!"

The last few steps got fast. The face above her was tearful and raging as MissusToffee slapped her teeth back together, and they stayed that way.

After that, Jessica went back to concentrating. She could move, she knew she could. Deep down she knew it. It was just a matter of convincing her body.

But MissusToffee still wasn't quite ready to leave. She began to say, "Sit down, boss." Her voice was charming, warm. "C'mon, take the weight off. Relax. Enjoy your prize-"

"None of your tricks, girl. Not on me, you should know better."

"Please. For me. Come on, I'll sit with you." There was a rustle of clothing; the two of them falling into a chair together. "See? Isn't this nice? Don't you feel rested?" Louis began to agree with her. Then there was a sudden metal clatter of chains, and another rustle as MissusToffee leapt away from him and scattered out of reach. "I'm sorry," she was saying. Fast, desperate, "I'm sorry. But she might be our best bargaining chip, and I can't have you sampling the goods while I'm gone. I'm sorry. It's for the best. I'm sorry."

Louis raged and bellowed at her. The noise was awful, full of other people's screaming, howling like hell. Jessica shook, in those deep down places where shaking was still a possibility. But by the time the noise was over, MissusToffee was gone.

Am being war-prisoner, she realized then. Must be being strong.

A long, long time went by. Louis sighed every now and then. Rattled his chains. They weren't going anywhere, though. "A lot of people," he began eventually, "seem to think that Toffee's abilities are just illusions. Mind games. Powerful ones, yes, but not real. But that's not true, you know. This is real iron that holds me. If someone were to take a sample from you right now, they would find your flesh had an incredibly high granite content."

Jessica was trying to make her toes flex. Oh, to be deaf again, and not to know he was even there.

"Miss Apple?" A pause, and when she didn't answer he sang, "Miss Ah-pple? You're being very rude, you know. You can speak. Why on Earth would you want to be rude to your host? You are, after all, in my bed. Like Goldilocks. Do you remember what happened to her? But then again, you had no one to read you fairy tales, when you were a girl. They read you battle strategy and weapons manuals, didn't they?"

How could he possibly know that? Her blood froze in her stony veins.

"Oh, Toffee's told me everything about you. She does research, you see. How can you offer someone their heart's desire in exchange for their soul if you don't know what that desire is? She's got you all figured out. You should see over here; she has a wall covered in information. On the Doctor. On Miss Oswald, and Elizabeth Goode. And on you. She has knowledge here you couldn't even dream of. It says you never find out some of these things."

"Stops!" she was able to shout.

The sound shocked her back into silence. He laughed. "I knew you could do it. A little rage goes a long way to clearing Mrs Lees out of the mind."

A little rage… A little rage, then, was all she needed. Her breathing came faster and faster and she thought, Probably can be manages that… Instead of flexing her toes, she decided to concentrate on balling up her fists. It didn't take much. Just the idea of MissusToffee wearing her face and speaking to the Doctor in her voice. That was all it took to make her fingers curl up.

"Ah, very good," smiled Louis, watching out of his chains. "Wait until you try something bigger though. Try and lift an arm, then you'll see. She really can change the world, you know, my Toffee…"

"All persons can be changing world."

He laughed, "Did your Doctor tell you that, Miss Apple?" His derision let her turn over, her whole body flung to one side. Her weight started to drag her off the bed. One knee was able to bend on animal instinct, to keep her fall from becoming too serious.

And that is where Jessica is right now. Poised to crawl and unable to do it. Digging deep for anger, brutality, rage. They are not so difficult to find as she might have hoped.

"You're doing quite well, aren't you?" Sievert tells her. "You must be so disappointed with yourself. You thought you'd become a better person, since your beloved Doctor took you under his tutelage. What was it you studied, out at Wise Star? Peace Studies, wasn't it?" His snigger gets her other leg up beneath her. Her limbs are loosening again, Jessica can feel it, and even if the flesh between them is still made of marble, that won't make any difference. Jessica is strong. And to be heavy as stone when her fist connects with his face, that doesn't sound like such a bad thing. "You're a creature of war. A weapon. You're built for battle, dear. Stop fighting it."

Jessica drags herself to the end of the bed. There she climbs the corner post until her feet are dragged up into position. She balances, testing her weight, swaying. More importantly, she can see him from here. His wrists and ankles are shackled to the arms and legs of the chair, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He looks quite as calm and relaxed as if he were on holiday. He sticks out his lower lip, mocking sympathy, "Oh, now, don't give me those big eyes. You and I both know you're a murderer. You and I and all those Time Lords you went around murdering before one of them got to you."

"Stops," and she staggers her first step towards them. A stake is growing inside her arm, trying to fight its way through the stone.

"Come now, we're all killers here. What was the number, when you stopped? Seventy, eighty bodies? Men, women and children, I heard. And the pets too. Were you counting pets? Is that part of the seventy-to-eighty total of your murders?"

"Not being murderer. Her was stupid, and not knows. Bad Silence lied to her."

"You still committed murder. You're a murderer."

Still staggering, glaring only at him, "No."

"You are."

"No!" but she's close now

"You're a murderer, Jessica."

The stake breaks the skin, bright and blue, lethal sharp. The instrument of all those murders… "Yes," she breathes, and throws herself across that last step, grabbing the back of his chair. Her fatal arm pulls back and she can see, so easily, how the point will disappear into the soft crook at the centre of his collarbone, how she won't stop until that tip has pressed on through and through the chair and left blood on the wall behind.

He turns his head to the side. It meets the skin of her steadying arm.

Everything stops. The world stops, crumbles away and leaves her in a dark, hollow void. The arm that should have killed him falls limp, and her knees give way, leaving her back on the floor. There's a moment's respite where contact is lost. But she's within reach of his tethered hand, and Louis grabs the top of Jessica's head.

It's like his howling before. Now, however, the feels is in her. Pain, misery, suffering, all the hate and all the awful of things of all the worlds in all the universe, it echoes in her skull.

If she were feeling quite herself right now, she might curl up on herself and beg for it to stop. Beg for mercy and be too weak to refuse when he offers her a fair trade…

Louis' mistake, of course, is that the creature at his knees is not Jessica, not really. There isn't a trace of marble left in her now. She reached back, and back there she found the Little Ghost. Quiet and caged for some years now, but still intact. And now that it's loose, it knows it doesn't have to take this. It has rage and pain all of its own, and quite enough to fling itself from beneath his influence. The Little Ghost still wants to fight. It wants to leave its mark on him, even if murder is too much to ask for.

It hears the razorblade howl at the heart of his terrible world every time a blow lands, but only for a second, and it is never taken so totally by surprise again. It stays on its feet, and it stays fighting.

Louis starts to lose consciousness. Planning to send him entirely to sleep, the Little Ghost grabs one ear to steady his head.

Behind the wind of hate, the hell song, it feels a little dampness at the tips of its fingers.

There, behind the ear, is a slit in the skin. Like an unhealed wound, but neater, feeling almost hemmed. A little sort of pocket in the flesh. Out of simple, animal interest, it pushes and out pops a small glass vial. Less than half-full of golden dust. It must mean an awful lot to him, if it needs to be hidden so very well.

The Little Ghost pockets it, and drops the last punch on his head. Leaves him bleeding and far away from this world when she walks out of the room…