All things considered, crawling through the cool darkness found only in the tacky mechanical innards of a space station wasn't the worst thing August felt he could be spending his time doing. How many people back home could say they'd done the same, anyway? And not on one of those shoddy movie sets made of plaster and wood; an actual maintenance shaft—in space! Tom Skerritt, eat your heart out!

There was one change he would have made, though, and that was to the size of the damn thing. Despite the largeness of the entrance vent, the actual tunnel was deceptively small and extremely narrow. It wasn't nearly as smooth, clean, nor as inviting as the ones in the movies either. The floor was a thin, grate-mesh made of some sort of polycarbonate filament thingamajig that looked and felt like plastic, but was really a whole lot stronger than that. Visible below it, reminding August of the TARDIS, were piles of wiring, valves, and other knobs and switches maintenance workers might need to fiddle with. The grating itself was already highly uncomfortable to press his knees and sweaty palms into—especially in an equally thin suit. The heat emanating from the machinery made it worse. If he didn't move quickly enough, August's palms would start to burn.

To add more injury to injury, the walls were just like the floor except without the grate covering. This meant that, occasionally, an odd piece August couldn't see in the pitch blackness would be sticking out right where his arm needed to be on either side. His shoulders were accumulating bruises and his left sleeve had been singed twice (Actually, he was pretty sure there was a hole and possibly some bleeding there too, but it was something he'd have to apologise to the Doctor for later). The ceiling, however, contained nothing but a flat, metallic surface which August could comfortably press the top of his head against. Not that he had any other choice, but it was a small mercy.

Ahead of him, August could hear Donna's elbows hitting against the grating. There was no distinct clang-clang-clang sound, just a vague pok-pok-pok which was extremely dissatisfying in his opinion. Every now and again the sound would pause. August would hear Donna's clothes shifting as she manoeuvred around one of the pointy, sticking-out bits in the walls, and then it was back to pok-pok-pok until the next.

Neither one of them had elected to speak since entering the shaft. There didn't seem to be any reason to. This left August to his own thoughts. At first, he tried to focus on a plan for when they got back to the TARDIS. They would need the key. Hopefully it was in one of the Doctor's pockets. He couldn't check right now—what with the enclosed space. Then he realized he didn't need the key; he could just snap his fingers and the TARDIS doors would open. But then he considered the TARDIS might not listen to him. She'd never been fond of performing that trick for anyone who wasn't the Doctor.

He reflected on the sight of her sitting in that docking bay. Strange, he thought, that she appeared just as flimsy and wooden as all the fake ones he had seen in his world. The TARDIS was such a special thing and yet it could seem incredibly ordinary at times. Today had almost been like that. The morning had seemed so dull and restless, but then the afternoon came and there she was. He could hear Holly laughing—see her smiling as she stood in front of the most unremarkable copy of the time ship, teasing the door handle as if it actually held any secrets. That's what he loved about her. She dared to believe the plainest things could be magical.

August shook his head. That was mushy. He didn't feel like being mushy right now. It wasn't that it was painful, per say. It just made him feel angry at this point. Angry that he hadn't gotten to tell Holly how much he cared about her before this whole mess started. Angry at Parady for getting them all dressed up as if that really had any influence on the situation at all. Angry at himself for not being able to handle things the way he thought he ought to (which way that was he didn't even really know). Angry at being angry and that this STUPID shaft kept TEARING into his arm like it had a hit out on handsome men in suit jackets.

Fully aware of the long gash in his sleeve now, August punted his fist against the flat ceiling, resulting in an extremely satisfying clang sound and—if he could've seen it—a dent.

Ahead of him, Donna froze. 'What the hell was that?!'

'Sorry,' said August. A word that was quickly becoming his go to. 'Look, how much longer are we going to be stuck in here? The docking bay can't be that much farther, can it?'

'Twenty minutes to get to the waiting room,' Donna reminded him in a sing-song voice. 'And now we have to crawl back.'

'We shouldn't be too far from the first ladder,' came a third voice. Overalls, August remembered, was behind him. He'd almost completely forgotten their mysterious rescuer. The man didn't make any noise as he crawled, probably due to the fact that he was lighter than air. 'If we climb up that, we'll be right above the other waiting room and be able to make our exit.'

'Is this it?'

Before August could recognize the strangely-shaped outline he was seeing in the darkness as the bottom of Donna's shoes, one of her golden heels stabbed him in the nose.

'Ow! Donna!' he whined.

'You might want to back up a bit, sunshine. I'm going to need to turn round.'

Donna had a more compact shape compared to August. Her shorter legs allowed her to tuck them into her stomach and keep her head down. Thanks to her narrower shoulders, she was able to lie on her back and shimmy forward onto the ladder before twisting back around to face August and climb up. On the other hand, August, with his broad, manly shoulders and unaccustomed lanky-limbed form, had to crawl toward the ladder normally. Once he was in the vertical shaft with a drop of however-many-feet-he-couldn't-see, he had to use his upper body strength to twist around and grip the ladder above, unwinding himself as he went.

It was only after he'd done this precarious manoeuvre that August remembered how little upper body strength he possessed. Essentially what he'd just done required the strength necessary to do a hanging pull-up for at least a solid minute-and-a-half. August didn't consider himself a physical-slouch, but footballing was much more his speed then weight-lifting.

'You know,' he muttered allowed, 'I don't think I ever considered it before, but the Doctor is quite strong.'

Donna snorted. 'If there is one thing I know about the Doctor, mate, it's that looks can be deceiving.'

'Yeah,' said August. 'I'm just not used to it—not used to being it.' He stared after the shadowy remnants of his hand thoughtfully for a moment, vaguely noticing one of his hearts was beating faster than the other, before climbing after Donna.

Overalls made his way onto the ladder. 'In the next shaft, they'll be another vent,' he explained. 'From there, we'll be able to cross into Docking Bay Eight and take a private elevator up to Bay Four where your ship is.'

'Alright. Thanks…' Donna started before trailing off. Then, 'Hold on, what is your name?'

Overalls took a moment to respond. Almost as if the idea of his own name hadn't ever occurred to him. 'Feric,' he said eventually. You?'

'Donna,' said Donna, 'and this skinny git is August.'

'Hullo,' said August, 'nice to meet you, Feric.'

'Likewise,' said Feric.

A tense bout of silence passed as they continued climbing. Eventually, Feric gestured towards their stop. Another uninviting, dimly lit shaft. August estimated they'd been crawling for about five minutes before Feric's voice broke the silence once again. 'Why have you come to Eternis?'

'We didn't mean to,' August explained, a hint of annoyance entering his tone. 'It was sort of an accident we were even in your sector of space. Actually… Donna, what were you doing before we ended up here?'

'Last thing I remember, the Doctor was talking about visiting some library,' Donna responded nonchalantly. 'Is this space station a library, Feric?'

'No,' said Feric plainly. 'Not in particular.'

'A library?' asked August. 'You don't mean like… a grand space library in the 51st century, do you? As in The Library?'

'I think so. Why? Is it important?' Donna's tone did not hold any of the gravity August was feeling at the revelation. Was The Library important? Only one of the most important places the Doctor and Donna ever needed to be! Lux Corp, Cal, Vashta Nerada, River Song. Oh my God, he couldn't even imagine what the future would look like if the Doctor didn't meet River Song precisely when he was meant to.

August bit his lip, thinking harder. Donna was still in her flapper's dress. They couldn't have gone straight to The Library after Agatha Christie. There were so many comic books, novels, and audio adventures that covered the time frame in between television episodes. August could think of several meant to play out between now and then. Then again, Doctor Who lore had always been a bit wibbly. How much of the extended media was canon was always questionable. Maybe, in the reality of the Doctor's world, things played out differently. The 20th century led straight to the 51st with no pitstops to future London's Technological Museum or the discovery of the Time Reaver. But that seemed incredibly unlikely.

If only he could tap into the Doctor's time senses… The what is, what was, and what could bes. Then maybe he could know for certain. For a moment, August thought really hard about time and the flow of the universe, but nothing came to him. Sadly, despite having the Doctor's physical capabilities and dashing good looks, inside he was still just himself. A sort of… reverse meta-crisis, if he wanted to put a name to it. As ignorant as Lady Cassandra was in the Doctor's body (maybe not quite as ignorant; at least August knew what a sonic screwdriver was).

Too focused on his continuous discovery of new things to mope about, August once again got his nose stabbed by Donna's heels. This time he could see it clearly, as well as Donna as she peered down into a brightly lit room.

'We've reached the vent!' she announced. Then, with a short curse, harshly whispered, 'Feric? You weren't planning on having us jump down there with armed guards waiting. Were you?'

'What?'

By his tone of voice, August could tell the man was confused. 'She said there are guards below,' he explained.

Feric was quiet for a long while. 'Keep moving. There's an alternate route we can take through one of the cargo bays. It'll be the door connected to the next ladder.'

'What did he say?' said Donna.

'He said keep going till the next ladder,' August rallied once again.

With an aggravated sigh from Donna, they were back to crawling. As he passed the grate, August peered through. A group of guards stood in a waiting room that looked identical to the one he and Donna had escaped from. They didn't seem particularly pressed, nor aware they were being spied on. August took note of the large guns they carried, about the shape and size of a shotgun, before continuing on.

Once pass the vent, 'So, who's this Doctor you mentioned,' Feric asked.

'A friend,' said August and Donna at the same time.

'Sort of a space professor,' continued August.

'Spends a lot of time saving the universe,' said Donna wistfully. 'And trying to convince me to go fishing with him on some moon even though he doesn't have the patience for it.'

'Saves the universe?' asked Feric, dubiously.

'Occasionally,' said Donna.

'A lot,' corrected August.

'Cool,' said Feric.

They reached the next ladder. Once again, Donna manoeuvred herself around to grab it, this time heading down per Feric's next instruction. August followed, then Feric himself. Once they'd climbed double the length of the last ladder, they reached a substantial compartment door, exiting the shaft directly into cargo bay ten.

Standing up in the bay, August stretched, his back cracking in several places. The lighting was still liminal, but he could now clearly see the large tear down one side of his sleeve jacket. The other side had developed several, but small, tears and a section that had turned black from burns. With a sigh, August made a difficult decision. He retrieved the sonic from his breast pocket, checked the outer flaps—which were empty—and then took off the tattered jacket, tossing it to the ground. His white shirt had one tear in it where he had received a cut, but it was small and harmless for now.

'Raggedy Doctor,' said August happily as he rolled up his sleeves.

Beside him, Donna was pulling out all the clips that had held up her hair and chucking them to the floor. Feric moved ahead of both of them, no worse for wear in his overalls, and picked something off a shelf. There was a click and then August was blinded by torchlight.

'Oi! Watch it!'

As Feric muttered his apology, he pointed the torch ahead of them, illuminating the way. August and Donna followed him down the long corridor flanked by towering shelving units. Wooden crates, plastic-covered furniture, bells, whistles, safes, and machine parts piled each level in abundance, completely disorganized and yet cautiously placed. They passed a mirror. August stopped to look. Only the reflection of the room greeted him. Frowning, he continued on.

'Alri', so what is this place?' August asked Feric. 'You mentioned a cargo bay before; what exactly are we storing here?'

'Tons of stuff,' said Feric. 'Eternis sells out its bays to those who can afford it. They store all kinds of things.' He then hummed, moving over to a large panel on the wall. He unlatched the cover, revealing an enormous lever which he grabbed and shoved up. The hanging, coved spotlights came on in succession. The closest ones first, before filling out across the rest of the bay.

'Is all this legal?' Donna asked as she viewed the contents of the shelving units surrounding them. Most of it seemed to have transitioned into exotic food items and a few sea creatures. August supposed those could also be considered exotic food items.

Feric's gaze turned shifty. 'Depends on who you ask.'

'What about the Shadow Proclamation?' asked August. He wasn't looking at Feric, rather a squid-like creature whose little suckers were repeatedly stroking the sides of its tiny enclosure. 'Or whatever government this station is attempting to hide from?'

'How do you know their hiding?' asked Donna.

'A space station in the middle of nowhere that gets to get a bit edgy when health and safety inspectors start poking around? It's even in the name. "Eternis". More like, "we'll hold your contraband for as long as necessary until the Feds get off our back",' explained August. '"And if the Feds do show up you pay us enough that we'll dispose of them if necessary".'

'But that would have been a mouthful,' said Donna, matter-of-factly.

'I bet those guards of there's are contract workers to,' August continued. 'Maybe not Mayborune. I doubt any high level leadership positions are outsourced.'

Donna raised her brow.

August shrugged. 'You watch enough telly…'

'But none of that explains why we've got string bean here trying to help us escape.' Donna looked to Feric; her eyes boring into his. 'You wouldn't be helping us without reason. Would you?'

As if in reply to Donna's question a sudden cacophony of voices sounded from across the bay. Wails more like—ghoulish and sorrowful.

A sudden, overwhelming feeling of dread passed through August. 'Who was that?' he asked, eyeing Feric.

Feric, for all he was worth, swallowed tightly and gave both of them a determined look. 'You said you help people?'

Before August could answer, Donna did. 'Yes.'

'Would you be willing to help them?' asked Feric.

Donna nodded vehemently. Feric returned the gesture, then took a sharp turn around the next set of shelving unit. He was fast. August and Donna had to jog to catch up with him once they realised they were meant to be following. However, August suddenly found himself taking Donna's arm, slowing her down and then stopping her all together.

She looked up at him, bemused. 'What?'

He took a deep breath, unsure on the reason himself. There was a voice nagging at him from deep within. He couldn't quite hear what it was saying, but he knew it was a warning. Something was in the air; something not quite right. 'Do you really think now is the best time for this?' his enclosing throat managed to squeak out.

'What would you have me do? Just ignore people in need?' She shrugged out of his grip, following after Feric. August took in the shelving around him—was it just his imagination or did they seem to be leaning inward? —before following her.

The wailing grew louder the farther into the bay they went. Eventually, Feric turned one last corner and stopped in front of a medium-sized metal cage. What, or rather who, was inside gave August and Donna pause.

Eight, drab human faces. Covered in dirt and barely clothed, withering and wailing on at the sight of them. Could they even speak? Or were they just too weak to make anything other than noise? August felt a wave of remorse and guilt riddle him, coupled with such a reinforced sense of anger he was momentarily stunned.

August's hand grew warm and began to hurt. He looked down. Donna was holding it tightly. He thought, for a moment, that she was doing so for his benefit. Then he saw the look on her face.

'All the possible wonders in the universe,' she muttered, dryly. 'And there are always people being treated like this.'

Feric stopped down beside the cage, holding out his hand for the old, greying woman who looked up at him solemnly. 'It's okay. I've brought help,' he told her.

The woman looked over to Donna and August. The smile she gave them de-aged her ten years.

'They've been brought here for debt collection,' Feric explained. 'Taken from their families to be locked in cages like animals. I've been trying to find a way to get them off this station, but the automated cargo ship that comes and goes every couple of days won't be here till late tomorrow evening. By then they'll be taken by the depositor to be killed. At least those whose families haven't made payments.' He squeezed the old woman's hand delicately, looking up at those who he had risked his life to save from a similar fate. 'But you both have a ship. That funny blue box? Could you help me get them out of here before then?'

Donna was nodding again. She released August's hand and, with great difficulty, approached the cage. She sat down beside Feric, eyeing those whose dreary expressions were welling up with hope. 'Of course, we'll help you. Absolutely we will.'

Meanwhile, August remained completely still. It wasn't due to any ill will towards these people or their predicament; in fact, quite the opposite. He was overwhelmed with nausea, but that wasn't what kept him on his feet.

Throughout the day, his mind had been bombarded with impossible feats, people, and things. What he knew to be real and solid facts of how the world worked was in flux, leaving August unable to completely trust any external input he received, not even from his own body. This left him with only his instincts—specific ones used to discern a tractor beam from a transporter, figure out a plot linking troublesome security detail to illicit cargo with vague context-clues, and forewarn of impending doom when lightbulbs began to flicker.

August looked up; his expression devoid of emotion. 'Looks like a light needs replacing,' he mentioned casually.

Feric followed his gaze. 'Strange,' he murmured. 'I replaced it just a few hours ago. It shouldn't be doing that.'

'Of course,' said August. There was something he was missing. Something in the room. He could feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end!

August looked round, saw the white sheet.

'It's just a statue,' said Feric when asked.

'Of what?' spoke August, coolly.

'What does it matter?' asked Donna.

She didn't know. How could she? Still, August couldn't keep the ice from his tone. 'It matters quite a lot, actually. So, if you could just tell me, Feric, we'd all feel a lot safer.'

Feric shrugged, stood and as casually as a man out on an evening stroll, walked over to the sheet and gripped it. 'See for yourself.'

He pulled, the sheet billowing onto the ground like a curtain revealing the stage to an ecstatic audience. At last, they could see it. The star of the show. What everyone had been waiting for; second act.

The beautifully carved weeping figure stood before them, its angelic wings tucked to its side, cowering away from its onlookers like a pitiful, unjustly judged thing that could never do harm to anyone.

August's entire body tensed at the sight of it, fire snaking up his spine, burning his widening eyes as every bell and whistle inside his mind began shrieking at him not to blink. Nana, dear Nana, always teasing August for his fearlessness in front of all the monsters that had ever taken to the screen. He didn't cower, he didn't hide, he was brave! Great. There was a fault to that assessment, however. Because the one creature that had absolutely terrified him—the one that he was absolutely willing to hide behind the couch and cower away from—made it impossible to do so.

Daleks, Sontarans, Cyberman? Unreasonable, but possible to engage in a witty bit of banter given their morally questionable and high-level world domination plans. Weaknesses? Several. Back of the neck, gold—disable a Dalek's plunger, what's it going to do you? But a Weeping Angel? An angel didn't have any higher reasoning. It just wanted to feed. It's weakness was only as good as your own strengths of which August found his to be quickly failing.

'Donnnnaaaaa,' he wailed.

Whatever scepticism had laced her tone before was replaced with a strong sense of wariness. She wasn't quite sure what she should be afraid of yet, but she knew not to take August's panic lightly. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'We have to go,' he said, backing up into her. His eyes were burning. 'We have to go now. We have to get to the TARDIS and… and leave.'

'But it's just a statue!'

August's voice cracked horribly. 'That is not just a statue. It is ALIVE and it will kill us the moment we give it the chance.'

Donna opened her mouth to speak, but then the lights flickered again. Suddenly the entire bay was drenched in darkness—just for a fraction of a second—but that was all it took for her to see what he was so afraid.

The statue moved; its stoney hand outstretched, inches away from August's neck. Donna gasped at the same moment August managed to get her hand into his. And then, with the force of near sixty years of experiences backing his actions, he shouted, 'RUN!'

Off they went, dashing down the corridor in mad-cap fashion, Feric right on their tails. August didn't have to think, he just went. One sneaker barely hit the ground before the next pushed off. The angel lurked behind them. Unlike on television, there was no soundtrack to pace its movement, only the weak flickering of the lights emitting a faint bizzzzz as they intermittently turned on and off. August didn't know if it was possible to lose the angel in the complex halls of the cargo bay, but damn if he wouldn't try.

'What is hell is that thing?!' cried Donna.

'Weeping Angel,' said August. 'Not really a statue; only looks like one. As long as you're staring at it, it can't move, but if it touches us, it'll send us back in time and feed off our potential time energy. Or just kill us out right. Depends on its mood. Point is we can't stay here.'

'But what about those people! We can't just leave them!'

'There's no time!'

Donna was incredulous. She dug her heels into the floor and yanked her hand out of August's grip. He stumbled backward, catching himself in just enough time to lock eyes with the angel again. It froze in a gruesome expression, it's arms curving toward them like a cat in the middle of a pounce.

Feric, showing more expression on his face than he probably ever had in his life, shuffled behind them as Donna kept her own gaze glued to August.

Her voice was low and deadly serious. 'If this thing's as dangerous as you say, we need to find a way to go back and help them.'

August resisted the urge to glance in her direction. 'You don't understand, Donna. Going up against one Weeping Angel is like fighting a billion Sontarans. There's no winning against it. You just get lucky. We have to go.'

'No.'

'What?'

'N. O. No!' Donna repeated. 'I made a promise. All we need is for someone to stand here and keep an eye on it, right? We'll use a flashlight—'

August scoffed, cutting Donna off. 'It's controlling the lights; you really think a flashlight is any better?'

Donna was silent for what felt like an eternity. 'We can't just leave them,' she repeated.

August could hear the pain in her voice. He could feel tears forming in his own eyes, straining to stay open. He couldn't keep looking. The moment he needed to blink, he chanced a glance at Donna and saw.

Less then a second passed before he was looking at the angel again. August felt he might as well trade places with it for how paralyzed he was. Why was she expecting so much from him? He was just a fan of a silly little television. Sure, he knew a lot, but—

'I-I can't, Donna. I'm not… I'm not him. I don't know what to do. I'm just…' His breath was so heavy. As were his eyelids. Maybe he could close them. Maybe he could sleep. Sleep would be nice. How long had he been having this dream now? Hours? Days? It felt like centuries. If they could just get back to the TARDIS. He could find a bed amidst its endless, ever-expanding rooms and sleep. Just… sleep

'Excuse me,' came Feric's small voice, piercing through the white noise inside August's head. 'I think… You may want to take a look at this.'

Out of the corner of his eye, August saw Donna nod at him. She would watch it, anger fuelling her resolve.

He backed up, swallowing tightly, before looking out the port hole Feric was pointing him toward, hoping for a solution. A miracle. Something. Anything to escape this nightmare!

Instead, to his absolute horror, August saw the TARDIS, shrinking as it tumbled out into space. Further and further, it went from the space station, like a loose piece of debris, until it was nothing more than a tiny blue pinprick of shabby wood.

August, imperceptibly, shook his head. 'No,' he murmured.

And then the lights went dark.