Apologies for late updates! I'm doing my best but brain has been in a meh sort of mood and irl things are going crazy. Grandfather got a pace maker, a great aunt is staying for a week meaning we have to juggle a reactive dog and an ignorant grandma who decided it would be a good idea to take her in, I've got a job again (same company, different place and i love my coworkers) and it's all just a mess.

Hope you enjoy though! I'm not dead yet, lol. And enjoy Asher's utter panic. It's the first time she's been put in this position and it got a little much.

I had lucked out and hadn't popped off until after the Doctor had properly treated my injury in the Tardis. It had been cleaned and bandaged before that at the estate once the werewolf was dealt with, but the Doctor had insisted on redoing everything in the Tardis despite my protests. Having my shirt off around a maid was fine but I couldn't help but flush when I had to have it off around the Doctor. He had no such qualms about it, rattling on about Time Lords not being bothered by their bodies and culture differences and whatever else he could think of. Didn't make me feel any less embarrassed, of course.

Thankfully, the process didn't last long and he had been entirely professional. I had no doubt that one of the future Doctors might tease me or something but this Doctor put down a firm line that neither of us crossed. All I got was a small smile and when I hopped off the bed, I stumbled right into the Tardis doors.

"Stupid piece of—" I groaned, rubbing my forehead and looking around to find myself in an office of some sort. "Twelve then. Cool. At least I get a bit of a break. Most of his adventures at this point are more relaxed… I think."

I sighed, resting my forehead against the Tardis as the ship hummed in amusement. I was still a bit tired from everything that had happened but at least my fever was down and the painkillers I'd been given were preventing my shoulder from constantly throbbing. The Doctor said that it was already starting to heal too. It'll probably scar though. I turned around and headed toward the desk in the middle of the room, dropping down into the chair and looking over the pictures and things on the desk.

There wasn't much, surprisingly enough. The photos were of Susan and one of myself too, which surprised me. I picked it up, noticing that I was smiling happily about something and I put it back with a small smile myself. He had a few books on random subjects stacked on the desk as well, some papers waiting for grading, and a metal tin with more basic-looking sonic screwdrivers. I pulled one from the tin, eyeing it as I dropped my chin in my hand, then plopped it back in with a clatter before leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes. I don't think I've met Bill yet, though depending on when this is, she's probably met me.

The door slammed open then, making me jolt and wince as the quick action did—in fact—send a sharp pain through my shoulder. I spat a muttered curse, reaching up to grab my shoulder as I saw the Twelfth Doctor back into the room with Nardole in front of him.

"Don't you have better places to be? I have a lesson to teach."

"Yeah? Are you actually going to teach the right thing or go off on another tangent about places you can't go?" Nardole huffed, folding his arms over his chest as the Doctor turned but glanced over his shoulder—not yet seeing me at his desk.

"I can go wherever I like," the Doctor huffed. "And currently, I'd like to go to my class to teach about crop rotation."

He finally faced me and was surprised for a moment before grinning.

"Excellent! See? Ash can babysit me," he said, tossing a hand in my direction as I sighed heavily.

"Hey, Nardole."

"Hello, Asher. I would ask that you talk some sense into him but I never know whether you do or not," he said with narrowed eyes.

"You know as well as I do that even if I did try to stop him, he'd never listen," I grumbled. "Also, I've no idea what you're talking about or when I am."

"Where'd you come from?" The Doctor asked as he gathered some things off his desk, giving me a sharp, probing look.

"Werewolf with Queen Victoria," I said, quickly grabbing his hand that snatched my arm; stopping him before he could pull me up or anything. "Don't. I'm rather sore still and while the pain meds you gave me work great, they stop when I move too quickly. So, I'd rather you didn't go pulling me around to check. I just got treated."

He let me go and reached for my forehead instead, as I swatted at his hand.

"I'm fine."

"You're a little warm," he countered as I rolled my eyes.

"From a fever that's finally gone down. What part of 'you already treated me' don't you get?"

"The irritable part," he teased, making me scowl before he smiled and offered me a hand. "Come. I know how you enjoy my lessons. I'll even have Nardole bring you some food."

Nardole sighed but went to the Tardis to grab something as I begrudgingly accepted his hand.

"Fine, but only because I do actually like your lessons."

"I'm a great teacher," he preened, making me snort.

"No, you're a terrible teacher. You're just very good at speeches."

He huffed. "I'll have you know I once taught a pygmy dolphin how to speak perfect French in order to better communicate plans to halt an alien species attempting to build a dam across their waterways."

"Yeah, you're a terrible liar too," I replied, giving him a look. "You going to tell me the aliens spoke French? Because I'm pretty sure you speak dolphin."

"They integrated with the French at the time, taking on their appearance and culture to not get spotted," he fibbed.

"Uh-huh. Why would they listen to a dolphin and not you?"

"Regional differences."

"You're talking out your ass," I accused.

"I am doing no such thing."

"Prove it," I said, giving him a look as we stopped outside of his assigned lecture hall. "Prove that you did all of that then."

He cleared his throat and suddenly made some clicking and whistling noises, making me raise a brow as a few passing students even paused on their own walks to stare.

"What the hell was that?"

The Doctor smirked, leaning toward me. "French dolphin."

He opened the door to the lecture hall as I burst out laughing and followed after him.

"You're joking!"

"Nope," he chirped, looking pleased with himself.

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Fuck off," I chuckled, sitting down at the chair he led me to as Nardole caught up and set out a plate with a sandwich and a soda on the desk in front of me.

"Is it really that hard to believe?" The Doctor questioned, leaning forward on the desk with a smug smile.

"One hundred percent. Rule number one: the Doctor lies."

"Not all the time," he countered.

"Often enough," I quipped, grabbing my sandwich and spotting the students filing in. "Don't you have a lesson to teach? Let me eat and contemplate French-speaking dolphins."

He snatched a strawberry off the plate and I scowled as he bounded off toward the chalkboard and watched the last few students wander in.

"Space!" The Doctor chimed, walking around the Tardis console and occasionally flipping switches.

Asher was lounging on the jumpseat with a soda, watching a crime show on a tablet; rather relaxed for once. While Bill was up on the second floor looking over one of the Doctor's books. They'd been introduced—or reintroduced—and moved on quite quickly thanks to the Doctor's restlessness. He was obviously eager for a trip out and Asher wasn't about to stop him. Nardole was the parent figure here and now that her shoulder was healing up quickly and her fever had finally gone, she wouldn't mind a bit of fresh air herself. If only to stop the Doctor from constantly checking in on her. He was very displeased his younger self had allowed her to get hurt and hadn't let up on it since she'd shown up.

A distraction was just what he needed.

"Going to space is exactly like camping."

"Is it?" Bill asked as Asher glanced at him.

"Are we talking going outdoors and setting up a tent kind of camping or more… dancing."

The Doctor pointed at her. "Not dancing."

"Just checking," she hummed. "I never know with the British slang."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and continued. "Too much between you and the outside and you might as well stay home. To really feel it, you need the space equivalent of a wafer-thin sleeping bag and a leaky two-man tent. So, pick a campsite," he said, pushing the monitor over as Bill came down to look at the map.

"Got any reviews?" She asked, confusing him.

"What?"

"You know, like for restaurants. Waiter was a bit handsy, lasagne gave me the trots. Two stars."

"Strangely, no," he answered as she hummed.

"Oh, I don't know. That one."

She picked a random spot on the map as Asher set aside her tablet and got up to join them as the Doctor complained.

"Ah, yes, well, possibly we could go there, pitch our tent next to the toilet block. How about something a bit more exciting?"

"What he means, is you didn't have a choice to begin with," Asher replied as he tapped a different spot on the map and she waved a finger at the red beeping swirl of Gallifreyan. "He found a distress call."

"You like distress calls?" Bill questioned him.

"You only really see the true face of the universe when it's asking for your help," the Doctor chimed before Nardole stepped in.

"You haven't seen my true face in years. Swapped it for this one on the run," he said, pulling at his cheek.

"Oh, look, Bill, it's Nardole. What a lovely surprise. I thought I sent you to Birmingham for a packet of crisps," the Doctor drawled.

"Yeah, I saw through your cunning ruse."

"Yes, well, if you will go thinking for yourself. What do you want?"

"I was given strict instructions to keep you at the university."

"Who by?" The Doctor asked, moving downstairs.

"You!"

He peered around the steps to look up at him. "Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you? I'll overlook it this once."

"And Asher," Nardole added and she raised a brow.

"Not been there yet so technically I haven't said a word."

Nardole shot her a glare before holding up a small cylinder. "Do you know what this is?"

"If it's not crisps, you're sacked," the Doctor threatened.

"Fluid link K57. Removed it from the Tardis the other night after your lecture."

"That is very untrusting," the Doctor hissed at him as he climbed back up to the level of the console.

"You took an oath, sir. The vault cannot be unguarded."

"Oh, listen to Mr. Boring."

Asher snorted, giving him a look. "Were you always this rude?"

"Rude and not ginger," he confirmed as Nardole shouted at him.

"I'm acting under your orders!"

"See how reliable I am?"

"What's a fluid link?" Bill asked, curiously, having moved back upstairs to her book.

"No idea," Nardole informed her. "But the Tardis can't go anywhere without it."

"Who told you that?" Asher asked, gesturing to the Doctor. "Because if it was him, I would double-check your facts."

"She's right, you know," the Doctor hummed, snapping his fingers and pulling the dematerialization lever.

"What?" Nardole questioned, stunned as the ship started up.

"Teach you to trust me!" The Doctor said with a smug grin.

"No—"

"I'm docking your pay for this," he cut the man off firmly, pointing a stern finger at him before bounding over to Asher and tugging her to his side with a kiss to the temple. "Anything fun, do you think?"

"I dunno," she replied, a little embarrassed by his fond actions but trying to enjoy it as much as she could.

She'd told him where she was with her feelings, surprisingly able to do so without too much awkward fumbling, and Twelve had taken it in stride. He wasn't as handsy as his last self anyway, so they were at a nice even ground when it came to how they showed their affection. Not that it stopped him from teasing her a bit but still.

"Some of it's familiar so far," she admitted, offering him a sheepish look at his raised brow. "Just little quotes though. I didn't rewatch much of your stuff. N-Not because I didn't like you but—"

"You liked my speeches," he concluded, having heard this before. "That's good enough for me. More fun this way."

"For you, anyway," she grumbled, a little nervous. "I don't like not knowing. Can't figure out if it's better or worse than when I know. If something bad happens—"

"It won't be your fault," he pressed, squeezing her shoulders so she was tucked tightly to his side.

"Doesn't mean I won't be upset about it."

"I thought I was the pessimistic one."

Asher cracked a small smile. "No, you're the gruff, overly serious, rude one."

"Except when I'm not."

"You two done flirting?" Bill asked, making Asher flush as the Doctor turned to her with a frown.

"Absolutely not," he said at the same moment that Asher replied.

"We weren't flirting."

"Sure sounded like you were," Bill teased with a smile before nodding to the doors. "Big adventure?"

The Doctor sighed heavily but released Asher's shoulders and took her hand instead, leading her out the Tardis doors and into a darkened corridor. He frowned lightly as Nardole stepped out with them, scowling with his arms folded over his chest.

"I'm a bit cross with you, sir," he said, leaning around to frown at Asher. "You too, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am," Asher muttered, brows furrowed herself as the Doctor hummed, scanning around with his sonic.

"Noted, scored out, forgotten," he replied before holding up a hand to stop Bill from wandering too far. "Wait. There's no oxygen."

"What? Well, how come we're breathing?" Bill questioned as Asher explained.

"Air pocket around the Tardis," she said, voice quiet and still frowning.

All of this was ringing familiar to her and not in a good way.

"Hang on," the Doctor said, lifting his sonic to open the Tardis doors again with a rush of air. "Now there's a really big air shell around the Tardis."

"How big?" Bill asked and he waved his sonic again to turn on the lights.

"Big enough for a stroll."

"So cocky," Nardole muttered as the group started to walk down the hall.

"Why aren't we floating?" Bill asked, ever the curious one.

"Artificial gravity."

"Doesn't feel like space," she countered after jumping a few times, before looking out a porthole. "Ah! Now it feels like space."

"Doctor," Asher spoke up as he went to the nearest bulkhead and ran a hand over it.

"Look at this. Classic design. Pressure seals, hinges. None of that shk-shk nonsense," he said, making Nardole grumble.

"Space doors are supposed to go shk-shk, nut urrr," he complained, miming a creaky door opening.

"Are you going to be like this all day?" The Doctor snapped as he sonicked the bulkhead open.

"Yeah, 'til you're back where you should be."

"Doctor," Asher pressed a little more firmly. "I know my memory of your adventures is shit but I've got a bad feeling about this one."

He raised a brow. "Because the doors don't go shk-shk? Or because Nardole wants us back at the university?"

Asher frowned at his attitude but brushed it off. "Neither. It's the lack of oxygen on a very human-looking space station where oxygen should be but isn't."

"Uh, guys?" Bill called out, drawing their attention to the figure on the other side of the bulkhead in a spacesuit.

"Hello?" The Doctor chimed, eyeing the unmoving figure cautiously before scanning him with his sonic. "He's dead."

"Well, how can he be dead? He's standing up."

"No, his suit's standing up. He's just along for the ride," the Doctor corrected, though his words made Asher go pale.

This was most definitely not a good adventure. She couldn't remember the whole thing but some bits and pieces were very abruptly becoming more and more clear the more they discovered. Lack of oxygen, the Tardis air shell, the suits, the corporate greed. Her not remembering exactly how things were to go in this episode meant she wasn't sure what she could say. If she could warn the Doctor about anything.

"Oh, God. It's standing for him?" Bill questioned in disgust.

"Gyro stabilizers, magnetic boots, and gloves, onboard computer. It could run, jump, and update his Facebook. Death, where is thy sting?" The Doctor murmured as Nardoel spoke up.

"So, back to the Tardis?"

"For once, I might actually agree with Nardole here," Asher breathed, glancing back down the hall they came from but shifting uneasily.

If the Doctor were paying attention, he might notice the hint of unease she was unconsciously giving off. Her mental abilities were better now, given the time she'd been able to work with him on it, but in times of great stress she tended to forget to hold back. She wasn't yet at the point where she could unconsciously keep hold of her emotions and right now, she wasn't even thinking about it.

"Yeah, could you turn it off?" Bill asked, disturbed by the standing corpse.

"Turn what off?" Nardole asked.

"The suit. Just, please. Just, just turn it off."

"Why?" The Doctor questioned, not really bothered by it.

"Human decency and culture regarding death and corpses," Asher rattled off, coming over beside the Doctor and reaching out to grasp at his hand.

She'd settled her initial panic and was now actively trying to get him to notice her unease. The Doctor picked up on it quickly with the physical contact but was misinterpreting it as her being upset about the corpse as Bill was.

"It's sick," Bill added. "It's disrespectful."

"I'll tell you what's disrespectful. Whatever killed him," the Doctor pressed, squeezing Asher's hand before letting go and moving toward some controls on the wall.

"Well, there was no oxygen, right? Before we got here? Didn't he just suffocate?"

"Well, his tank's full," Nardole replied, looking over the corpse himself. "And his field's up."

He reached toward the corpse's head and a flicker of a force field stopped him.

"His what?"

"Forcefield," the Doctor explained. "Keeps the air in."

"Well, look, can we just, like, lie him down or something? I mean, this isn't right," Bill said, more than unhappy about the walking corpse.

"No, it isn't. It isn't. Mining Station Chasm Forge. Crew of forty. I've got thirty-six records of life signs terminated. Last log entry, Station declared non-profitable."

"Yeah, your workers all dying'll do that for you," Nardole scoffed.

There was a noise then, making the group turn as Nardole clapped his hands with false cheer.

"Okay then! Back to the Tardis. Lovely in there. Nice and cozy."

"Yeah. Yeah, he's right," Bill agreed as they heard footsteps approaching but the Doctor didn't move and Asher reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Doctor," she murmured, drawing his gaze briefly to her. "I can't help with this. I-I don't know enough and what I do know is…I-It's really not good."

"Doctor? Ash? Are you listening?" Bill asked and the Doctor swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Asher was warning him and when she did, it never boded well for anyone. He had an opportunity to walk away, to follow Nardole and Bill and leave but there was one thing holding him back.

"Forty minus thirty-six," he said quietly.

"Sorry, what?" Bill asked as Asher squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture.

"Equals what?"

"Oh, no. I'm just saying that Nardole was saying—"

"Four," Asher replied for him, looking up at him as he glanced her way. "There are still four crew members left."

"Four survivors, one distress call. The universe shows its true face when it asks for help. We show ours by how we respond." He turned and lit up the next corridor, turning back and giving the exasperated Bill a look. "Any questions?"

Bill took a breath like she was about to say something but he held a hand up, cutting her off.

"Good."

He turned away from her and looked down at Asher, bringing her hand up and lightly kissing the back of it. She'd warned him. She told him it was going to be bad, that she wouldn't know what help her foreknowledge could offer, but she stayed. She hadn't left—only suggested it once—and despite her putting herself in danger by not arguing, she was going with him. She was supporting him because she'd realized that there were four people here who needed their help. As dangerous as it was, she was willing to risk it for them, just as he was and he loved her for that because he knew she was scared. He could feel it from their connected hands, hers growing clammy and somewhat shakey in his as he started to walk them down the hall. Neither would like what was going to happen but what choice did they have? There were people who needed them.

I wasn't sure what to do and it was really frustrating. I knew very little about this episode other than the Doctor going blind and the whole mess having to do with a corporation screwing over its employees with high oxygen costs and a failing station. I couldn't remember much else. I knew people died but didn't know who or in what order. I knew Bill would survive with her defective suit but couldn't remember for the life of me how the Doctor managed to do it. That… and I didn't know what my presence would change. As the Doctor had told me time and time again, my presence caused ripples. Not knowing how this would go, how I could change things, had me more than on edge and the Doctor was well aware.

He hadn't released my hand since I'd warned him and I knew he could feel what I was struggling with. He was lightly pushing a feeling of calm toward me, trying to not be stifling with it, though my internal unease was proving difficult to rein in.

"Hello," the Doctor called out to the helmeted suit that was moving crates—the source of the noise we'd heard earlier.

He did a quick scan with his sonic before slipping into the room with the rest of us and Bill waved her hand in front of the visor with no reaction.

"Has he got his tunes on?"

"Not exactly," the Doctor replied before using his sonic to pop the helmet off the suit and reveal no actual person in it.

Bill and Nardole gasped as my grip tightened and I smacked the grinning doctor on the arm.

"Calm down. It's empty," he chimed, patting my hand on his arm as Nardole and Bill scowled at him.

"And you couldn't just tell us?"

"Are you trying to scare us?"

"I'm maxing out your adrenaline. Fear keeps you fast. Fast is good," he countered with a shrug.

"Do people ever hit you?" Bill asked, clasping her hands around the back of her neck as I smacked the Doctor again, making him flinch with a scowl.

"Yes! I do and I should do it more often. Fun fact and something I can tell you: oxygen is precious so don't waste it on a stupid joke."

"Tetchy," he grumbled, rubbing his arm where I'd smacked him but hopefully listening to what I'd hinted to him.

It was the only thing I could think of telling him that might not cause too much trouble. I wasn't sure, of course, but still. I wanted to do something to help and my foreknowledge was the only thing I really had going for me here. The stubborn feelings of inadequacy swirled in my gut but I shoved them aside to focus on the current situation. Namely, the Doctor questioning the AI in the working suit.

"Hello, suit," he greeted.

"Good morning. How may I assist?"

Nardole smirked. "Ooh, recognize that voice. Yes! Nice girl, actress, bit orange. Left me for an AI in a call center."

"Didn't know you had it in you," I muttered, under my breath, earning an offended glare from him as the Doctor cleared his throat.

"What killed the crew of this station?"

"I am unaware of any recent deaths."

"What about the oxygen? Where did it all go?"

"There has never been any oxygen in this station."

The Doctor shot me a look at that as Nardole chuckled.

"Oh, listen to that. Still saucy after all these years."

"Explain," the Doctor demanded.

"Oxygen is available for personal use only at competitive prices."

"It's only in the suits. Personal use. They only have oxygen in the suits themselves," the Doctor realized, looking at me. "Oxygen is precious."

"Any unlicensed oxygen will be automatically expelled to protect market value."

"Charging you for the air you breathe. She hasn't changed," Nardole sighed. "What was her name?"

"Hang on," Bill said, realizing the importance of what the suit had said. "Didn't we just fill this place with air?"

"Yes, I suppose we did," the Doctor muttered, understanding as well.

"Because it said expelled…"

"We need suits. Now," I pressed as a klaxon began to go off and Nardole looked around uneasily.

"What's that?"

"It's the alarm saying the Tardis is about to be ejected because it's lowering the price of oxygen," I said, grabbing the Doctor's hand and pulling him back toward the Tardis. "Move!"

We started running but a bulkhead behind the Tardis opened up, starting to suck the air out of the station. We grabbed a hold of nearby handrails, getting pulled off our feet by the force before the Doctor managed to pull out his sonic and close the door between us and the Tardis. We fell back down to the ground and I groaned at the drop, rolling onto my backside as the Doctor went to test the door he'd closed. A loud noise interrupted his argument with Nardole about the door and Bill looked around uneasily as I got up off the floor.

"What's that?"

"Uh, nothing to worry about," the Doctor lied.

"Really?"

"Yes, not for several minutes."

"Don't stress about it," I muttered, doing my best to careful focus on my breathing. "Stressing will literally kill you here."

"What?"

The Doctor sent me a look but I wasn't someone who believed lying or hiding the truth would be better for people.

"I'll be blunt," I said, drumming my fingers anxiously on my thigh. "We just cut off our source of oxygen in an unoxygenated space station. There's only so much left. Without a suit…"

"You're joking," she breathed.

"Don't panic," I urged. "Please. Our only option right now is staying calm and regulating our breathing as best we can until we can get into suits."

"Don't panic?" She squeaked, voice high-pitched telling me that she absolutely would panic.

Thankfully, a voice over the comms interrupted it.

"Occupants of repair station, please identify. Occupants of repair station, please identify."

The Doctor went to a wall panel and spoke back to the man on the other line. "Hello, you first."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, all your crewmates are dead. So, either you're extremely lucky or you killed them. Which is it?"

"This is Drill Chief Tasker and I haven't killed anyone. Yet. Now, who is this?"

I wasn't watching him though, but the suit left in the room as it slowly turned toward us. "Uh… Doctor?"

"Doctor, plus three," the Doctor replied to Tasker, ignoring me for the moment as I took a hesitant step back. "You sent out a distress call. You should be expecting company. Now tell me, what happened to the crew of this station."

"Hang on, you're in the repair bay, right? Get out of there! Now!"

"Why?" The Doctor pressed, but I'd bumped into his back now, making him turn as I reached back and grasped at his coat.

"Maybe because the suits are the killers?" I croaked as Tasker shouted from the comms.

"There are suits in there! For God's sake, stay away from the suits!"

The Doctor whipped out his sonic as the others backed away but the sonic somehow flew into the suit's hand and was crushed before falling over from the feedback. The Doctor went over and took his broken screwdriver from it with a complaint about the damage. He tucked it away and started looking over the suit as Bill called out in concern.

"Doctor!"

"It's fried. Should be safe."

"Uh, you thought you were safe before," Nardole countered.

"Yes, well, I'm bound to be right eventually, aren't I?" He complained before tossing a computer chip to Nardole. "Get me some history. You two okay?"

I nodded, again focusing on keeping my breathing as calm and shallow as possible while Bill nodded.

"Uh, yeah. Just a… Just a little freaked, I think."

"Try not to breathe so fast," the Doctor warned and she immediately looked at me before nodding and trying to calm her own breathing.

Nardole turned away from the wall console that he'd plugged the chip into, reporting what he found. "Single line of instruction was sent to all suits. Deactivate your organic component."

"Organic component, as in people?" Bill questioned, voice tight.

"Ooh."

"Interesting," the Doctor muttered. "They were killed by their own suits." He turned to me as I shifted uneasily. "But you said we need the suits."

"We need oxygen," I agreed, glancing over at the other suits. "There has to be some unaffected by the order, right?"

"But those things were going to kill us!" Bill argued, gesturing to the other suits in the room. "We should fry those ones too."

"Thing is, we have other problems," the Doctor explained as calmly as he could. "Opening the airlock was the station's plan A. Plan B is filtering out all the oxygen."

"So they can sell it back to us," Nardole realized.

"Capitalism in space. If we want to keep breathing, we have exactly one option. Buy the merchandise."

Bill eyed the suit as the computer announced the depleting oxygen, turning toward the Doctor and then me. "You said they would kill us."

"Not these ones," I offered, trying to keep her calm. "I-I don't remember a lot about what happens here but I know there are some suits that are safe."

"How? How can you know that?"

I glanced at the Doctor for some help, not knowing the specifics myself and he thankfully nodded.

"We know that they killed their occupants on specific orders. I think these ones are off-network for repairs, so they can't receive commands."

"What if you're wrong?" Bill asked and the Doctor's brows furrowed in almost annoyance.

"I trust Asher. Even if she doesn't know the specifics, she wouldn't let us step into danger on a guess."

My face flushed in embarrassment and I shifted on my feet awkwardly, having never heard such praise in my life. Having someone trust me with their life was insane and unbelievable. The Doctor though, seemed to always make me feel otherwise. He trusted me and what I said and as crazy as that sounded, it made my heart swell.

"Doctor, if those suits have killed thirty-six people, that means there's thirty-six corpses walking about this station," Nardole pointed out.

"Thirty-five," I corrected absentmindedly, wincing when he raised a brow at me. "Sorry. Not helping. I know."

"You know, that really doesn't matter right now," the Doctor drawled but Nardole reached over to turn on the lights outside the station.

"Correction. Yeah, it does because I think there's something moving out there."

At the sight of the many corpses walking along the hull, the Doctor hastily turned and grabbed my arm.

"Suits, now."

He led me onto the disk of one suit while the others each got their own. It was strange to have metal clasp down on my arms and legs before a suit almost appeared over me, announcing that our oxygen would last only a certain number of breaths.

"Breaths?" Bill questioned. "You couldn't just give it to me in minutes?"

"People breathe at different rates," I explained calmly as we stepped out of where the suits had been housed. "You get anxious or worried, your breathing picks up, more oxygen gets used." I glanced at her. "And I highly suggest we try to limit how much we talk to each other because that can change our rate of breathing too."

"Asher's right," the Doctor said simply. "More scared you are, the faster you suffocate. Drill Chief Tasker, do you read me?" He asked into the comms.

"Read you, Doctor. You need to take Corridor Twelve to Processing quickly."

He nodded for us to follow him into the next area only for another bulkhead to open and some of the possessed corpses to start stumbling in.

"They're here. Come on! This way! Move!"

"You look like you're trying to run. Would you like some help with that?" My suit chimed and I grumbled.

"No. I'm fine."

"Can you shut your girlfriend up?" Bill complained to Nardole who grinned as he remembered something.

"Velma! That was her name!"

"Confirmed. My name is now Velma," my suit chimed and I rolled my eyes.

"Jinkies."

Bill snorted at that as the Doctor sealed the bulkhead to stop the corpses from coming after us. We got to the next one but it was sealed shut and the Doctor hastily alerted Tasker to our predicament as I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing down from our short run.

"Her suit's really called Velma?" Bill asked Nardole, only for my suit to answer.

"Correct. My name is Velma."

"Save your breath, Bill," I reminded her as the Doctor hammered on the door and called out for Tasker again before the other door opened and Nardole let out a whine.

"Oh, they're through!"

Bill was panicking slightly and I grabbed her by the arms.

"Bill, look at me. I want you to do something for me."

"W-What?"

"Old McDonald. You know that?"

"Yeah but what—"

"Think about it in your head. Don't sing it out loud but just think of it. Old McDonald had a farm."

She nodded, closing her eyes and focusing on what I said. "E-I-E-I-O."

"What did he have on his farm?" I asked, lightly pulling her away from the approaching corpses. "Don't say it, just think it. Keep the song going."

She was mouthing the words now but that was good enough as her breathing slowed and finally the door opened. We hurried in as it closed behind us and Bill's eyes snapped open as we were faced with several people with weapons.

"Deadlock the door!" A woman shouted as the Doctor scowled.

"Cutting it a bit fine, weren't we?"

"There was some debate over whether to open it at all," Tasker bit out as one of the men bumped into me.

Bill gave out a startled shout but I offered the blue-skinned man a small grimace of a smile.

"Sorry. She doesn't get out much."

Not that I wasn't internally panicking a bit at the vibrant blue man or his beady yellow eyes but I had enough restraint to not show it externally. The man eyed us both but scoffed as Tasker addressed the rest of us.

"And you are?"

"We got your distress call," the Doctor replied, passing them the psychic paper as Bill leaned over toward me to whisper.

"He's blue."

"Yes. Some people are blue, some are cats, some have two heads," I hissed back. "Now really isn't the time to explain to you the vast number of races that exist outside Earth."

"They're from the union," Tasker breathed in surprise as the woman beside him scoffed.

"The union's a myth."

"Take a look."

She snatched the psychic paper from him as Nardole hummed.

"Yeah. We're from the mythical union. We're here to help."

"Dahh-Ren?" Tasker called, summoning the blue man to take the paper as Bill continued to stare.

"Sorry, is your name Darren?"

Dahh-Ren shot her a mildly annoyed look and corrected her pronunciation. "Dahh-Ren."

"Ah, makes more sense," Bill lied as I glanced at Dahh-Ren.

"We have accents. Sorry again."

He rolled his eyes, settling into the idea that we'd just be slightly annoying before my arms suddenly jerked upward and I felt my heart jump into my throat. Oh, no.

"T-That's not me," I muttered as the startled crew lifted their weapons but Dahh-Ren checked my suit and Tasker lowered his gun and approached.

"It's just glitching. Ivan," he called over another man who started to look my suit over as I closed my eyes tight and tried to focus on that damn song.

Old McDonald had a farm…

"Look, for the record, I'm not prejudiced," Bill explained to Dahh-Ren. "I'm usually on the receiving end."

"Oh? Why?" He asked, making her blink in surprise.

"What? You really don't know?"

"Cultural differences," I said quietly as Ivan took one of my arms and started to lead me away.

E-I-E-I-O. And on his farm, he had a dog…

"Would you like to give feedback on your experience so far?" Velma asked and I grimaced, biting out a scathing remark.

"One star for being a shit suit."

"We're sorry you feel that way. Would you mind elaborating so we can send your review to our customer service team?"

I took a deep steadying breath. E-I-E-I-O. With a woof, woof here and a woof woof there… I knew the Doctor was in the other room working things out to help get us all off this ship but it didn't make our situation any better. I cracked open my eyes as Ivan plugged my suit into the control panel of the wall nearby, biting back questions about what he was doing but he had no such qualms.

"You're a quiet one, eh?" He commented with a small smile.

"Saving my breaths as best I can," I muttered, earning an understanding nod. "Not that I'm really talkative anyway."

"I get that," he hummed, unbothered and falling silent himself for a moment. "Your suit's a mess. Needs a complete overhaul."

My arms were finally able to be lowered and I let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he replied easily, stepping back out of the room to join the others but I hesitated, looking down at my gloved hands.

Something had most definitely gone wrong. My presence had caused one huge irreparable change to the plot of this episode and it wasn't something I was prepared for. I had ended up in the defective suit. The suit that Bill was supposed to be in, supposed to die in and I had no way of knowing what else would change because of that. If I could be saved like Bill had been, if my breath-saving and lack of panic would prevent anything from happening at all, if my own version of the HADS system would somehow come into effect when it was my time. Most of all, Bill's lack of oxygen meant the Doctor lost his vision and now… now it would be me. My fault. I grit my teeth and clenched my eyes shut, pressing my gloved hands into the forefield around my head, unable to stop the buildup of tears.

"O-Old McD-Donald had a f-f-farm…E-I-E-I-O."