After a few awkward minutes, the Romanov daughters agreed to show Molly their shared room. It was right next to the Tsar, Tsarina, and Tsarveich's shared room. The Doctor, Nicholas, and Aleksei weren't there anymore; Molly assumed they'd found a lead of some sort and were following it. Hopefully there was nothing to worry about.

The room was small, but not overly crowded. Instead of beds, four hard army cots were set up. The other three Romanovs filed into the room past Molly, but Grand Duchess Maria stayed beside her, looking at the room critically. "I'm not sure where you'd want to sleep," she apologized. "I can give up my cot if you need."

"No, it's fine," Molly assured her, "I'll just sleep on the floor." With a sympathetic grimace, she added, "The cots probably aren't much better."

Maria chuckled. "They're not so bad," she told the pathologist."We've never slept on anything else, so we're used to it."

Molly blinked in surprise. "These are your cots?" She'd assumed that the cots were part of their punishment, that four princesses of the largest country in Europe would sleep in something far more regal.

Maria nodded with a grin, seeming amused by her surprised reaction. From her spot on her cot, Anastasia added, "When we first came here, the cots weren't here yet, so we slept on the floor. It was like camping out."
Maria turned to sit beside Anastasia, while Molly lowered herself onto Maria's cot. The second youngest Grand Duchess blinked curiously at Molly. "What's your job in Moscow?" she asked.

Tatiana shot her sister a short glare. "Maria, there's no need to harass the woman." Her dark gray-blue eyes narrowed distrustingly as she turned to look at Molly.

Maria looked chastised, but Anastasia just rolled her eyes."Lighten up, Governess," she teased her older sister. "You're wound more tightly than Mama these days." Even as the Grand Duchess joked, Molly could see weariness in her eyes and in the tired slump of her shoulders. Her joking seemed to come more from habit than from any feeling of joy.

Molly felt a pang of sympathy for the youngest Romanov daughter, and for the suspicious Tatiana. Kept prisoner for so long, cooped up in one house for months without much hope of ever leaving, and soon they were to be brutally murdered. Hearing the names and ages and how the deed was done was bad enough, but now she was seeing them as real people, as a real family that argued and teased and loved just like any other. That made it far, far worse.

Aloud, she answered Maria's question with something as close to the truth as she could manage. "Er, actually, I haven't been there that long. Me and the Doctor've been working together for a few months now."

"Working together on what?" Maria asked curiously.

Molly shrugged helplessly. "Medical stuff, you know. We were working in a hospital for a while."

Tatiana looked up quickly, suspicion fading quickly to be replaced by sharp interest. "You were a nurse?" she asked.

"Sort of," Molly replied vaguely. She was a pathologist, not a medical doctor, but she'd gone to medical school to get her degree. Once she'd started traveling with the Doctor, she'd gone back over some of what she'd learned there, well aware that the life they led was likely to lead to serious injury at one point or another. "I'm a doctor, actually."

Tatiana's expression grew hungry with longing and wistful memories. "It's been so long since I've been in a hospital," she sighed. "It must be great to be out there helping people. I wish I was out there doing that instead of being cooped up in here."

Molly was surprised at the Grand Duchess's rapid change in attitude, but didn't question it. "You were a nurse before?"

Tatiana nodded with a smile that for once didn't seem tired or sad. "I was a Red Cross nurse," she said with a fond gleam in her eyes. "Headed some committees. Of course, me and Olga were shielded from the worst wounds, no matter how much I begged to help, but we learned a lot." Her voice softened sadly as she added, "I miss being able to help people like that."

In a tired, gentle voice, the eldest Grand Duchess spoke up. "Tatiana, you do help people." Olga seemed far more tired and worn-down than the rest of her sisters, but there was still warmth in her eyes as she looked at Tatiana. "You looked after us when we were left behind with Aleksei in Tobolsk. You've always been head of the house, Governess."

"And you look after Mama better than anyone," Anastasia added firmly.

Tatiana gave a small smile at her sisters' praise, but after a few moments it faded. "It's not enough, though. Out there people are dying, and there's nothing we can do. Our country is falling to pieces around us and we can't do anything but watch."

Molly felt a rush of respect for the girls. She had expected the Grand Duchesses to be sheltered and unassuming, but these seemed to be down-to-earth, intelligent girls who were passionate about their family and their country. The guilt weighed even more heavily on her heart now. In a low voice, she asked, "Olga, how old are you?"

The eldest daughter blinked in surprise at the question. "Twenty-two. Why?"

Molly ignored the question and turned to Anastasia. "And you?"

"Seventeen," the Grand Duchess answered warily.

"And your brother?"

"Thirteen," Maria told her. "And I'm nineteen and Tatiana's twenty-one. Why? What do our ages matter?"

Molly kept her expression composed, though their answers were like blows to the gut. The youngest was thirteen and the eldest only twenty-two. Lives with such potential, so much ahead of them, only to be stolen away. Her thoughts of guilt were starting to become a broken record in her head, but it didn't get any easier to look at these people and know there was no way to save them.

Aloud, she told Maria, "Nothing, just standard procedure, you know, something the Doctor said to ask."

Maria looked at her curiously. "You and the Doctor don't seem like any Bolshies I've met." Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd said. "Wait, sorry, not what I meant." Molly assumed bolshies was some sort of derogatory slang for Bolsheviks.

Molly just chuckled. "No, it's alright. I don't like them either. I certainly don't think it's right to imprison a whole family, even if they are the family of the deposed Tsar. It's not like you guys did anything wrong."

The four sisters looked at her curiously, with varying degrees of hope at her words. Olga finally said, "Maria's right. You and the Doctor don't seem like anyone we've met. You speak so openly against your government; everyone else is too afraid of the Bolsheviks. And I've never seen clothing like yours before." Molly glanced briefly at her jeans, jean jacket, and t-shirt, and her hair pulled into a pony-tail.

The pathologist shrugged. "We're a bit odd, yeah," she admitted easily. "But that can be a good thing."

The second youngest sister sighed. "It's nice having you here, Molly. It's been so long since we've been able to talk to anyone properly," Maria told her wistfully. "I used to be able to talk to the guards, but then I got in trouble when one of them made me a birthday cake. We weren't allowed to talk to them after that. We've got each other, but it can still get lonely."

Molly felt another pang of guilt. "Sorry about that. And sorry about just dropping in like this. I can't really tell you what the Doctor's up to, classified and all that – "

"Don't worry about it," Olga assured her. "I don't know what that Doctor of yours is doing, but I do know I haven't seen Aleksei this excited in a long time." She gave a fond smile as she thought of her brother. "Imprisonment is getting to all of us, even Sunbeam. But your Doctor seems to help. Maybe fantastic monsters and heroic quests to find them are exactly what he needs right now."

The pathologist couldn't give a proper answer. They were making Aleksei and the daughters happy now, maybe, but that didn't make up for their later fate.

SCENEBREAK

The Doctor followed Aleksei and Nicholas through the house, followed by Ivashov. He was still on edge – his time-sense was being screwed up by the wrongness of the fixed point. He could feel it, like a heavy fog, weaving its way around him. It was uncomfortable and worrying. If they didn't find this alien soon, there could be major damages to the timeline.

He'd asked that they stay overnight in case the creature was one that only came out at night. That's when Aleksei had seen it, at any rate. He couldn't take any chances with this creature, not this close to the established event. They only had five days until the fixed point; the closer they got, the more dangerous it was to change anything, even little things. He really didn't want a repeat of the last time a fixed point had been changed, nor did he want to relive those memories.

As they started towards the elevator to the second level, they were stopped by a new guard. "Ivashov, Yurovsky needs you," the man said in a low, husky voice. "He sent me to take over here." The Doctor frowned. If Yurovsky still thought they needed a guard to follow them around, then he clearly didn't trust them. He was a smart man, he would probably figure out they were lying sooner or later. They needed to find those aliens quickly and get out, before it was too late.

They rode up to the second floor. "This is our room," Aleksei said as they approached one of the many doors. "I saw the eye up there." He pointed up towards the top of the door.

The Time Lord immediately took out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning the door where indicated. He stiffened when he noticed something unusual. "Some low readings of excess heat," he remarked to no one in particular. He lowered the screwdriver to the ground, grinning slightly as the readings grew stronger. "Ah, left us a trail, did you?"

The Doctor didn't offer an explanation to either of the baffled Romanovs as he crouched over the floor, following the faint trail of heat. It led him down the stairs to the first floor and to the other end of the house, where he noticed something odd. He looked up at Aleksei and Nicholas. "Are you sure you've only seen that thing the one time?"

Aleksei nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"'Cause there's not just one trail," the Doctor breathed, eyes widening, "There's hundreds." The thin lines of heat wove across the ground, winding and intersecting, some far fainter than others.

"Hundreds of what?" Nicholas asked, sounding baffled at the Doctor's behavior.

"Trails, hundreds of trails," the Doctor replied distractedly, waving his hand for emphasis. "Whatever it is, it's giving off more heat than a human, leaving a trail of heat behind, a trail I can follow, but there's literally hundreds of trails in this house." He put his sonic screwdriver away, starting to pace with nervous energy. "Right, hundreds of trails, but they're not all fresh, so not hundreds of creatures. 'Course, I'd still say it's more than one, but I think this is the work of a few creatures over a long period of time, not a lot all at once. But how did they keep from being seen for that long? Big ol' beasts with yellow eyes, you think someone would've spotted them. Unless…"

Something was wrong with the picture behind him. Nicholas and Aleksei looked as baffled as before, but the guard behind them had gone completely still, expression going curiously blank. The Doctor turned and looked straight at him, realizing aloud, "Unless they're shapeshifters."

The guard's expression hardened, something steely glinting in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice had a strange, metallic edge, and seemed too high. "Oh, well done, sir, very clever indeed."

The Doctor straightened fully, studying the guard quietly. To all appearances, he seemed human, but he was standing far too still, not even blinking as he stared at the Time Lord. The Doctor measured the guard's expression, then quickly calculated the distance between himself and the Romanovs and the guard and the Romanovs. If he had to, if he moved quickly enough, he could reach them before the guard did, but what then? Aleksei was in a wheelchair; there was no way he'd be able to outrun an alien.

Best thing to do was to keep him talking. The Doctor put his hands casually in his pockets, gaze not moving from the guard's face. "Well, it's a nice trick, I'll give you that," he said lightly.

The guard stared unblinkingly at the Doctor. It was as though he'd been acting before, and now no longer needed to seem human. "As was yours," he complimented stiffly. "Figuring it out like that." His gaze flicked to the Doctor's jacket, where he'd stored the screwdriver. In a sharper tone, he commented, "That is not technology of this planet."

The Doctor scoffed. "You're one to talk." Hands stuffed in his pockets, he began walking towards the guard, playing it casual. "Wait now, I can figure this one out. Shapeshifter, excess heat, 19th century, I know I can figure out who you are. 'Course, I'd appreciate help, maybe your true form?"

"Oh, you've seen enough already," the guard growled, voice suddenly low and dangerous. The alien tensed, then without warning, gave a low, keening noise that the Doctor was pretty sure was below the humans' range of hearing. He tensed. A warning call, to the other aliens in the house. Probably calling for back-up. So there were more aliens coming; he had to get Aleksei and Nicholas out of there, fast.

The Doctor didn't give any outward sign that he'd heard the call. He kept his pace casual as he approached the guard. As he passed Nicholas, he lowered his voice so only the Tsar could hear. "When I say so, take Aleksei and run." He didn't give the Tsar a chance to argue, instead coming up to stand before the guard, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Maybe a name then? Rank, intention? Something?"

"I think not." The guard's expression had grown darker, his eyes shining with malice.

The Doctor stepped minutely to the side, instinctively shielding the Romanovs from his view. "Well, that's no fun," he quipped. Keeping it light. Keeping him unassuming.

The alien tipped his head slightly to the side, studying the Doctor. "Well, maybe I just think it's rude to ask so many questions without saying anything about yourself first. How about you... Doctor, wasn't it? You're not local, clearly. What brings you to Earth?"

"Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that," the Doctor replied vaguely. "Y'know, just wandering. Didn't even mean to come here."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "You're lying," he hissed. "Tell me why you're here!" Steps from further down the hall. They were running out of time.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that you get out of here, fast. This really isn't a time to have aliens around. I can offer transport if you need it, but Earth doesn't need any visitors right now."

For the first time, the guard grinned, a cruel little smirk that left the Doctor no doubt of his intentions. "I think not, Doctor. We're rather starting to like it here."

The Time Lord wasn't smiling anymore. "Last chance," he warned. "If you don't take it, I'll have to stop you. And I will. Don't doubt that."

The guard tilted his head slightly, still wearing that smug smirk. "I think, Doctor, if you try that, you will find yourself outnumbered."

Shadows approaching around the corner. Time was up.

"We'll see about that," the Doctor said lightly. Right before he activated his sonic screwdriver, and the radio he'd been fiddling with in his pocket.

An ear-piercing shriek echoed from the radio. The guard slapped his hands to his ears, doubling over as the loud screech continued. The Doctor turned immediately to the former Tsar. "Run!" Nicholas looked baffled, but he removed his hands from his ears and took off with his son's wheelchair, glancing back only once.

Long enough to see the creature change.

The Doctor knew Nicholas couldn't move fast with Aleksei in the wheelchair, so he stayed in front of the alien with the sonic screwdriver blaring until he was sure the former Tsar had made it to the elevator. He started to take off, but then it was too late. The alien had changed completely now, and the true form towered over the Doctor, yellow eyes glaring hatefully at the Time Lord.

A strange hum sounded, an oddly distracting sound that made his thoughts fuzzy and distorted. He only had a moment to wonder on it before darkness blotted out his vision, sending him crashing to the ground, unconcious.

Here's more of The Last Tsar. Sorry for the wait, again, schoolwork's been catching up with me. I've got Friday off though, and only two exams to study for, so hopefully I'll be able to get more out this weekend. If not, you'll only have to wait another week, then I should be able to resume regular updates. :)

Again, characterization of the Romanovs, especially the daughters, comes from "The Lost Crown" by Sarah Miller, and a bit from their Wikipedia pages. The layout of the house comes from the help of JiordanoAsya, who has visited what used to be the House of Special Purpose, and was able to tell me about how it looked when the Romanovs lived there. Thanks for the information, it was seriously helpful. :) And yes, the Romanov daughters actually did sleep on army cots their whole lives.