Before Tyler could say a word, Amou had shifted and torn off down the road on unsteady paws.
"Amou, wait!" Tyler called after the scampering wolf in vain. She knelt next to the body.
She knew this man; it was Skoll, the iron worker, but his body was emaciated, the muscles he'd acquired working daily, beating the heated metal into shape were all but gone, making him seem smaller in death than he had ever been in life. There were no visible wounds on the body, so it wasn't likely that he had been attacked.
They say the Romans are demons. They can kill men in ways that no human can manage. But they always leave their mark on the body, injuries no mortal blade could create, but marks nonetheless, Tyler thought to herself. She picked up the basket of onions that Amou had dropped when she shifted, knowing there was no reason for them to go to waste before running towards the village, the Doctor, and safety.
As she reached the wooden walls that protected the village, she heard the pounding of feet, heavier than any of the bliethed because of the sturdy boots she knew encased the feet. The Doctor rounded the nearest corner and pelted towards her, panic in his eyes.
"Rose!" he called her frantically, and Tyler couldn't find it in herself to correct him, not when he was already so distraught. He grabbed her and wrapped her up in his arms, blocking the outside world out. For a few moments, she let him enclose her in a world where it was safe, where it was just them, and she clung to him as tightly as he clung to her. Finally, he pulled back enough to look at her, and the haunting image of Skoll's body flooded back. "Are you okay?"
Tyler nodded shakily. "I'll be fine, Doctor. It just came as a bit of a shock." A look of distress crossed her face. "Amou ran off. I don't know where she's gone to. I need to tell her father." She tried to head off towards the village square, but the Doctor held her tight.
"Time for that, later. Tell me what happened," the Doctor insisted softly.
"It's Skoll," Tyler choked out. "He's dead." A thought struck her, and she examined the Doctor closely. "How did you know that something was wrong?"
The Doctor resembled a hind caught unawares by a wolf, too stunned and panicked to run. "The, uh, gods told me you needed me," he answered after a long pause. Tyler knew he was lying, but she found she didn't care. She had needed him, did need him, and she was just glad he was here.
"They were right," she said with a small smile, letting herself get lost, for a moment, in the hope in his eyes. "But right now, I need to go tell the pack leader about Skoll."
"Rose, no, let me tell them, you don't need to do that."
"Tyler, Doctor," she told him, hoping she kept the wistfulness from her voice. It was in moments like these, when he looked at her so tenderly and wrapped her in his arms of gentle strength that she wished she could be his Rose. "And it'll be better coming from me. They know me; they trust me. And I'm the one who found the body. You're still new here. If you tell them one of the bleithed is dead, they will suspect you. You should go back to your home. I don't know why, but they're beginning to be more guarded than they used to be, more prone to anger. The shift is starting to make them weak afterwards. Something's going wrong, and they'll turn on you if they connect you to Skoll. I need you to be safe." Her hand found its way to his smooth cheek in a gentle caress. "So go home, Doctor. I'll try to convince them to ask for your help, but you need to let me handle this."
The Doctor searched her eyes with a pained, conflicted expression that made her chest ache, his hand trapping hers against his cheek, obviously unwilling to let her go just yet. Finally, he nodded. "Do what you must." With one last longing look, the Doctor planted a kiss on her forehead before loping off, back towards his house with the fantastic blue door.
Tyler shook off the melancholy that struck her whenever they parted and strode off towards the center of the village, where the returning hunters would be gathered.
The Doctor paced the console room, longing for something to throw or to hit with his mallet.
He'd been on edge for so long, that when the TARDIS alerted him to a sudden spike in Rose's pulse rate and blood pressure, he'd raced headlong towards her, barely waiting to figure out where she was.
But it seemed that almost as soon as he'd reassured himself of her well being, she'd insisted on telling a group of increasingly unstable, physically augmented people about a death of one of their own. He knew that she was right; if he were to tell them about this death, they'd have turned on him instantly. Rose had been trapped in their joint delusion and should be afforded some security as such. But she didn't change like they did, and as such, she was on the fringes of their world. They might just as easily turn on her.
So he paced, and he waited, and he learned to hate the door for not echoing with Rose's knock.
Before long, the Doctor heard a howl start outside, first a lone voice, but quickly joined by another and another until it seemed even the TARDIS could not contain the sound. Before the howl had died down, new textures were added to the pandemonium: that of rushing feet, pained yelps, the slamming of doors, and in the distance, the whinny of a panicked draft horse. Eventually, the chaos moved away and faded.
Still no knock.
The Doctor resentfully resigned himself to an impatient night.
After twelve hours without news, the Doctor could be patient no longer. He had waited this long only because Rose had asked him to, and because the TARDIS had reassured him that Rose's vitals were stable. He threw open the TARDIS door and scowled at the empty streets that greeted him. The overcast sky was colorless, and it seemed to sap the life out of the world, leaving only an angry red streak to throb spitefully against the horizon, a warning of bad weather to come. While the Doctor knew intellectually that it was nothing more than an atmospheric phenomenon, he still begrudged it, a visual representation of the world without Rose.
He set off to the village square, his long legs eating up the short distance in moments that still felt like ages. It was there he found Rose, surrounded by a crowd of humans and wolves who were anxiously attending her.
"Wulffrith has sent news that he picked up Amou's scent to the north, I need one of you to join him." One of the wolves pealed away from the crowd. "Phelan," Rose continued, "you're the fastest. Conall was searching in the west; he will want to know the news of his daughter and join them. Go tell him."
A shaggy blond man nodded, dropped to his knees and shifted. The Doctor winced at the sickening sound of bones popping and muscles rewriting themselves to the new form. For a moment, he thought he could hear a scream, but no one else seemed to notice. The wolf, Phelan, paused a moment and staggered, before shaking his head and racing off.
The Doctor observed that Rose watched this change with concern, but the other bleithed saw nothing of this momentary weakness. She turned back to the group, "The rest of the men need to split up and inform the other searchers to return until we hear further notice." The last of the wolves hurried off, joined shakily by a few recently shifted men. Rose turned to those who remained, only a few women. "Orfilia, many of the men will be returning soon, they will need rest and refreshment. I need you to organize the women to prepare food and drink for the village. I will go and tell Faoiltiama that we have news about Amou and ask the baker to grant us the use of his ovens. It should be arranged by the time the women are ready to start cooking." The tall redhead nodded and led the remaining women out of the square after a few barked orders.
Thinking she was alone, Rose leaned for a moment, wearily, against the wall of the blacksmith's which was uncharacteristically cold and silent. The Doctor couldn't help the swell of pride, of love, of loss that nearly undid him. No matter what they did to her memories, they couldn't take away the essence of Rose Tyler, working tirelessly to help others, taking action to guide others when they panicked, caring so much when she didn't have to. He stepped up behind her and slipped his hand into hers. Without opening her eyes, Rose turned and burrowed into his side, her arm going under his jacket and her nose nuzzling into the soft wool of his jumper. She breathed in deeply and sighed, a sweet look of peace soothing its way across her brow. The Doctor hugged her close, breathing in the comforting smell of her that, underneath the bear-fat soap, remained the same.
They stood like that, lending and drawing comfort from each other for some minutes until a distant howl prompted Rose to pull back, her hand sliding down to grasp his in a grip that betrayed her desire to stay.
"I have to go. There is still so much to do," she told him wearily.
"Rose," he began, but she cut him off.
"They haven't yet moved Skoll's body. You need to look at it. Rumors of the Romans' approach has captured the pack's imagination, but I think no man did this, and no Roman." She clutched his hand convulsively. "Doctor, there were no wounds. Please, go and examine him now, while the pack is still busy. I'm still trying to convince them to seek your help, but they are worried, and a scared wolf doesn't think straight." Her hand tightened its grip even further, despite her command for him to leave. "Go. Now. I will come to you as soon as may be, though that will likely not be for many hours." Rose released his hand and gave him a small push away from her. Rose headed off in the direction that the Doctor knew would take her to the pack leader's wife. When she turned a corner out of his sight, the Doctor was able to turn and jog off towards the body of Skoll, and what he hoped would be the final clue about what was affecting these people.
The day passed in a dizzying, exhausting whirl. Tyler pushed through the insanity and through the pain that had taken up a permanent residence in her skull over the past few weeks, by clinging to the brief moment of peace she had claimed with the Doctor that morning. By noon, Amou had been found, unconscious and feverish, but still living. Her father had carried her back, so distraught that he could barely cling to his human form. While the women took over tending the girl, the men went forth to investigate the body of the blacksmith. For a few minutes, Tyler's heart lived in her throat as she hoped that the Doctor had already left. When no commotion arose, she tentatively began to breathe.
Night had fallen before Tyler was able to escape from the pack. Orfilia recalled that it had been 48 hrs since Tyler had slept, and she sent her off with strict instructions that the girl rest. However, Tyler needed to know what the Doctor had discovered, so she hastened to the blue door that seemed to shine like a beacon even in the dark of night. Wearily, she knocked on the blue door, but the Doctor did not come. Tyler leaned against the door as she waited, slipping into a much-needed doze. Her head fell back against the door, and a comforting hum entered her, banishing the pain in her skull. She stood straighter, stepping away from the door, and the pain returned, but with it came a strange compulsion. Without questioning it, Tyler reached for a chain around her neck and pulled out the strange silver talisman that had hung around her neck for as long as she could remember. She fit the talisman into the small hole on the blue door and instinctively turned her wrist.
The blue door opened at her touch, and Tyler stepped inside, hastily returning the talisman to her neck. As soon as she entered, the pain disappeared again, replaced by a soothing song she couldn't quite hear but sensed all the same. Looking around at the room that seemed to be larger than the house could contain, Tyler could believe that the Doctor hadn't been lying when he said that the gods had sent him to her. It was magnificent. It gave the sense of having grown rather than having been built. The center of the room was dominated by a column that looked like glass, but it wasn't possible that anyone could afford such an extravagance. Unintelligible bits and bobs decorated the table that surrounded the column, and Tyler hadn't the courage to touch them. A chair beckoned invitingly from next to the table, empty save for the Doctor's jacket, strewn carelessly across it's back.
"Doctor?" she called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. She stepped forward, her feet clanking on the metal floor. Further proof of the Doctor's immeasurable wealth. Why was he here, since he obviously could afford to live anywhere? You, whispered a tiny voice in her head, but it went unheeded. "Hello? Doctor? Are you in here?"
A door opened in the back of the chamber, leading further into this magnificent place, but Tyler hung back, not sure she would be welcomed. Instead, she took a seat on the chair by the table, content on waiting for him to show up. His jacket was here; he'd be back if only for that.
She glanced at the table, and her breath caught in her throat. There, tucked between items that Tyler couldn't begin to fathom, was an image, much more detailed than any artist's drawing or carving. Like any of the bleithed, Tyler had seen her reflection in still water, and she recognized herself, laughing and smiling up at the Doctor whose eyes were twinkling down at her in return. She was dressed in the most peculiar clothing, but there was no doubting that she was looking at herself. Or, rather, at his Rose. She thought back over her life, trying to reconcile this image with her memories, and for a split second, there was an image of the Doctor, welcoming her into this magnificent room, but a cutting spasm of agony knifed through her, stopping her thoughts cold.
She cried out in pain, and heard almost instantly two things, a mechanical grinding coming from the glass-like column, and heavy pounding on the grating, coming quickly closer.
"No!" she heard the Doctor's voice ring out. "We don't know what will happen if she's separated too quickly!" He pelted to her side and his hands fluttered gently over her head, his fingers fixed at her temples, and Rose could feel the pain being pushed away. The grinding stopped reluctantly. "Rose, are you okay? What happened?"
Rose moaned softly, curling into him, grateful for whatever he was doing to guard her from the pain. Something in her knew that he always guarded her, but trying to follow that thought only caused the pain to flare back up, so she let it escape. She gestured vaguely toward the image of them. "That picture," she began. The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and cursed.
"I'm sorry, Rose. I thought reminders might hurt you. I would have hidden it if I'd known you were coming," he babbled desperately, his hands rubbing soothing circles into her scalp.
"That's me. But, I don't remember-"
The Doctor hushed her gently, pulling her into his arms. "Don't worry about it, Rose. I'm working on it. I'll sort this; I promise." Rose nodded against his shoulder, grateful for his strength holding her up, as she was pretty sure that exhaustion, pain, and worry had stripped away all of her own. The Doctor adjusted them until he was sitting on the seat, Tyler tucked up against him. "Now, how about I tell you what I found, eh? Let's not think about that anymore."
Rose nodded wearily into his jumper. "Do you know what killed Skoll?"
"Not exactly. I know he died of exhaustion, his body completely taxed. I think it's happening to all of the bleithed, Rose. The change is weakening them. They're not supposed to change. The TARDIS admits that's part of the reason why she protects you from the change, but she won't tell me any more than that."
"But Doctor, the bleithed have changed for generations."
"Not really. It started a few months ago, and it's changed all of your memories to match. I know of a species that could do this, but I've never known them to invade Earth. And they would need a host."
"A host?" Rose asked sleepily.
"Someone whose emotions, especially fear, they could feed on. Someone already slightly psychic. Thank Rassilon that they didn't find you, first. Someone who's been maybe seeing things or is losing control over their own mind. It would put a drain on them, but they won't die. The Alii are very careful to keep their host alive."
"Amou," Rose murmured, more than half asleep against him. "She keeps seeing a burning man." She started to rouse, pushing herself from his arms, but the Doctor held fast. "We need to go to her, help her."
"It can wait a bit, Rose. She likely won't wake until morning, and I need to talk to her before I can do anything." He pulled her back down to lean against him. "Rest for now." Tyler stopped struggling and let him pull her more fully into his embrace. With the pain fully gone from her head for the first time in weeks, and feeing fully safe, Tyler dropped off almost instantly. One of her last waking memories was the Doctor's lips gently caressing her brow.