Eyes of Time: The Final Line

by Hulinhjalmur

The Alchemist knows that Time has consequences. After Regenerating with the Doctor, both Time Lords must face the repercussions of Rose Tyler's actions and payment when it comes due. As the Time Vortex said of Bad Wolf—Time's Chosen always bites back. Now, while navigating their new lives and healing from the Time War's trauma, they cling to the hope of reuniting with their family.

22. Chapter 22: The Runaway Bride

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Runaway Bride

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[TARDIS]

The Alchemist frowns and begins to watch the tennis match of words.

Still gaping, the Doctor continues, "What?"

"Who are you?" the bride demands.

He shakes his head, "But..."

"Where am I?"

"What?"

"What the hell is this place?"

"What? You can't do that. I wasn't. We're in flight. That is, that is physically impossible! How did... Ally how?" he finally manages and turns to his wife.

The Time Lady just shrugs. Blinking rapidly, hoping she's just a mirage.

"Tell me where I am!" she stomps, "I demand you tell me right now. Where am I?"

The Doctor replies, "Inside the TARDIS."

"The what?"

"The TARDIS."

"The what?"

"The TARDIS!" he shouts.

"The what?"

The Alchemist tries, speaking slowly, "It's called the TARDIS."

The bride snaps, "That's not even a proper word. You're just saying things."

"It's an acronym," the Time Lady corrects.

"How did you get in here?" the Doctor demands.

"Well, obviously, when you kidnapped me," she accuses, "Who was it? Who's paying you? Is it Nerys? Oh my God, she's finally got me back. This has got Nerys written all over it."

He throws up his hands, "Who the hell is Nerys?"

"Your best friend," she snidely replies, hands on her hips.

"No, that's..." the Alchemist's mouth is covered.

The Doctor finally takes notice, "Hold on, wait a minute. What are you dressed like that for?"

The Alchemist licks the hand preventing her from speaking and he instantly pulls away with a look of annoyance.

The bride scoffs, "I'm going ten-pin bowling. Why do you think, dumbo? I was halfway up the aisle! I've been waiting all my life for this. I was just seconds away, and then you, I don't know, you drugged me or something!"

"She's getting married, Doctor. In most English-speaking countries on Earth, at least some white is worn, especially a wedding gown," the Time Lady reminds him.

"Exactly!" the woman says and stomps her foot again.

"Ah, yours looked nicer, Ally," he says with a firm nod.

The Time Lady turns pink down to her neck.

"Excuse me!?" Donna shouts, insulted, "Whatever. How am I here, what have you two done!?"

"I haven't done anything!" the Doctor shouts back before asking, "Ally, did you do anything?"

"I can't teleport humans," the Alchemist reminds him, rolling her eyes.

"What's all this human nonsense!? Teleport!? Ugh, I'm having the police on you! Me and my husband—as soon as he is my husband—we're going to sue the living backside off you!" she yells and begins to sprint down the ramp to the doors.

The Doctor's eyes widen, "No, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Don't!"

"Wait!" the Alchemist shouts.

Both Time Lords lunge forward, but it's too late, she yanks the doors open. The vast, swirling nebula stretches out before her, painted in deep purples and golds, alive with the slow pulse of distant stars. Her breath catches.

"You're in space," the Doctor explains softly, "Outerspace. This is our spaceship. It's called the TARDIS."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, "How am I breathing?"

The Alchemist smiles, "The TARDIS is protecting us."

Donna remains still, entranced, "Who are you?"

"I'm the Alchemist, but call me Ally."

"And I'm the Doctor. You?"

"Donna."

"Human?" the Doctor asks.

She finally turns to them, "Yeah. Is that optional?"

He shrugs, "Well, it is for us."

Donna exhales sharply, "You're an alien," she mutters, then glances between them, "You're both aliens."

"Uh-huh," the Alchemist replies.

The Doctor nods, "Yeah."

Donna rubs her arms, shivering, "It's freezing with these doors open."

The Alchemist gently shuts the doors, and together, they head back to the console.

The Doctor rambles, hands flailing, "I don't understand that, and I understand everything. Or, well... Ally's here, so—close to everything. This—this can't happen! There is no way a human being can lock itself onto the TARDIS and transport itself inside. It must be..."

He snatches up an ophthalmoscope and grabs Donna, peering into her eyes with wild intensity.

The Alchemist groans, shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Doctor," she warns.

"...Impossible," he mutters, "Some sort of subatomic connection?"

"Doctor," the Time Lady repeats, sharper this time.

"Something in the temporal field?" he muses, stuffing the ophthalmoscope back into his pocket.

"Doctor!"

"Maybe something pulling you into alignment with the Chronon shell. Maybe something macro-mining your DNA within the interior matrix. Maybe a genetic…"

The Alchemist huffs, "Oh, I give up. Just slap him already, Donna."

Donna doesn't need to be told twice. She slaps the Doctor, grateful for the alien woman's encouragement.

"What was that for?" he demands, looking between the two gingers.

"You wouldn't shut your rudeness up," the Alchemist snaps.

"Ally!" he exclaims, wounded.

Donna throws her arms out, "Get me to the church!"

"Right! Fine!" he shouts back, "I don't want you here anyway! Where is this wedding?"

"Saint Mary's, Hayden Road, Chiswick, London, England, Earth, the Solar System," she rattles off.

As she speaks, something catches her eye. A purply-pink blouse draped over the railing—the very one the Alchemist has been complaining about for weeks.

Donna snatches it up, shaking it in their faces, "I knew it! Acting all innocent. I'm not the first, am I? How many women have you abducted?"

The Doctor grits his teeth, "That's our... old friend's."

"Where is she, then? Popped out for a spacewalk?"

"She's gone," he says, looking away.

"Gone where?" Donna presses.

"Does it matter? We're not friends with her anymore," the Alchemist growls, eyes flashing.

"It matters!" Donna shouts.

The Doctor rolls his eyes, "We lost her."

"Well, you can hurry up and lose me!" she snaps, but then pauses, catching the tension in the air; her voice softens, "...How do you mean, lost?"

Without a word, the Doctor yanks the blouse back from Donna and hurls it furiously down the corridor.

'Should've just ripped it up,' the Alchemist mutters in his mind.

He nods stiffly, "Right. Chiswick."

[Courtyard]

The TARDIS materializes on a block corner surrounded by city buildings; the trio runs out of the ship.

'Chiswick and it's the right time and date, but this isn't Hayden Road,' the Alchemist tells him and he frowns at her.

"I said, Saint Mary's!" Donna shouts, "What sort of Martians are you? Where's this?"

"Something's wrong with her," the Alchemist mutters, stroking their ship worriedly, "The TARDIS, it's like she's..."

The Doctor nods and they sprint back inside.

[TARDIS]

"I think she's recalibrating!" he shouts.

'Too much,' the Alchemist hears and sighs heavily.

"She's digesting, love," the Time Lady tells him.

The Doctor gasps and pats the console, "What is it? What have you eaten? What's wrong? Donna? You've really got to think. Is there anything that might've caused this?"

Donna stumbles back inside the TARDIS, only to rush out again, circling the blue box in disbelief. She hesitates, chest rising and falling rapidly, before stepping back inside. Her breath quickens as she paces, peeking out, then back in, trying to make sense of it all. She rounds the TARDIS, taking in the impossibility of the ship's interdimensionality, the sheer scale of the space inside, the small outside—but the Time Lord couple remains oblivious, caught in their own little world.

The Doctor, ever the rambler, starts up again, "Anything you might've done? Any sort of alien contacts? I can't let you go wandering off. What if you're dangerous? I mean, have you seen lights in the sky, or did you touch something—something different, something strange? ...Or something made out of a... box of metal or…" he pauses, eyes narrowing. "Who're you getting married to? Are you sure he's human? He's not a bit overweight with a zip around his forehead, is he...?"

They finally turn—and freeze.

Donna stands in the doorway, hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with fear. She sucks in a sharp breath—then bolts.

"Donna!" the Doctor shouts, instantly breaking into a sprint.

The Alchemist, calmer but no less urgent, murmurs, "Doctor, hush," before taking off after her.

[Courtyard]

"Donna," the Alchemist calls gently from beside her.

"Leave me alone!" Donna shouts, voice raw with frustration, "I just want to get married!"

"Oh, Donna, it's alright. We'll get you there," the Time Lady assures her with a warm smile, "Come back to the TARDIS."

Donna shakes her head wildly, "No way. That box is too... weird."

The Alchemist shrugs, "It's bigger on the inside, that's all."

"Oh! That's all? " Donna throws up her hands before glancing down at her watch, her face crumpling, "Ten past three. I'm going to miss it."

The Doctor jumps in, "You can phone them. Tell them where you are."

Donna gives him a pointed look, "How do I do that?"

He frowns, "Haven't you got a mobile? ...Ally, where's yours?"

The Alchemist sighs, "Currently floating around in the Void. I need to build a new one."

The Doctor winces, but before he can respond, Donna turns to him with a deadpan expression, "I'm in my wedding dress. It doesn't have pockets. Who has pockets? Have you ever seen a bride with pockets? When I went to my fitting at Chez Alison, the one thing I forgot to say was, 'Give me pockets!'"

The Alchemist raises a hand, "I had pockets."

Donna scoffs, rolling her eyes.

The Doctor blinks, "...This man you're marrying. What's his name?"

"Lance," she replies softly.

"Good luck, Lance."

Before he can react, the Time Lady smacks the back of his head. He yelps.

"Oi!" Donna glares at them both, squaring her shoulders, "No stupid Martians are going to stop me from getting married. To hell with you!"

She turns and bolts, leaving the pair standing there.

"I—I'm not—I'm not from Mars," the Doctor stammers, staring after her.

"Neither am I, for that matter," the Alchemist snips, folding her arms.

She was never fond of Martians.

Shaking it off, they take off after Donna, finding her by the busy street, desperately trying to hail a cab.

[Street]

"Taxi!" Donna calls again, stepping into the street, "Oi!"

"There's one!" the Alchemist spots another and raises her arm confidently to hail it—only for it to continue without hesitation; she frowns.

"Oi!" Donna shouts louder, frustration mounting.

The Doctor glances at her, tilting his head, "Do you have this effect on everyone ?"

The Alchemist murmurs under her breath, "Why aren't they stopping?"

"They think I'm in fancy dress," Donna huffs.

A passing driver leans out of his window and calls, "Stay off the sauce, darling!"

The Alchemist gapes, "They think you're drunk ?"

Another car speeds past, and a pair of men shout out, "You're fooling no one, mate!"

Donna stomps her foot, "They think I'm in drag!"

The Doctor gives her an appraising once-over, then shakes his head thoughtfully.

Then, inspiration strikes; he turns to his wife, eyes bright, "Hold on, hold on. Ally—do the thing!"

The Alchemist huffs but obliges. She shifts her stance, extends one long leg, and purses her lips before letting out a piercing, high-pitched whistle—so loud that Donna winces, clapping her hands over her ears. The Time Lady, anticipating the pain, had already plugged her own with her fingertips.

A cab immediately screeches to a halt, makes a swift U-turn, and pulls up beside them.

"Finally!" Donna exclaims as they all pile into the backseat, her voluminous wedding dress spilling over the Bondmates' laps.

[Taxi]

"Saint Mary's in Chiswick, just off Hayden Road," Donna orders, "It's an emergency. I'm getting married. Just hurry up!"

The Driver looks over his shoulder and asks, "You know it'll cost you, sweetheart? Double rates today."

Donna's jaw drops and her eyes go wide before she turns to the Time Lords, "Oh, my God. Have you got any money?"

"Uh, no," he says, looking over Donna, "Haven't you?"

"Pockets!" the gingers yell, both gesturing at the white gown.

The Alchemist pauses then and digs into her own.

"Wait, hold on, do you take card?" the Time Lady asks, holding up the little black square.

[Street]

"And that goes double for your mother!" Donna shouts as they're unceremoniously kicked to the curb; huffing, she dusts off her dress, "I've got his number. I'll have him. Talk about the Christmas spirit! And who doesn't take credit?!"

The Doctor, grinning, glances around, "Is it Christmas?"

"Eve—and yes," the Alchemist confirms with a matching smile.

Donna gives an exasperated sigh, "Well, duh . How come she knows and you don't? Maybe not on Mars, but here? It's Christmas Eve!"

She spots a phone booth and bolts for it, "Phone box! We can reverse the charges!"

As the Time Lords follow, the Doctor tilts his head, "How come you're getting married on Christmas Eve?"

"Can't bear it. I hate Christmas. Honeymoon, Morocco. Sunshine. Lovely ," Donna replies without slowing down.

The Doctor reaches the booth first and holds the door open for her.

"What's the operator?" Donna asks, "Haven't done this in years. What do you dial? 100?"

"Christmas is lovely," the Alchemist insists, grinning. "We'll show you just how much!"

Donna rolls her eyes. "Oh, joy."

The Doctor, now distracted, sonics the phone, "Just… just call direct."

Donna frowns as she hears the dial tone, "What did you do?"

"Something... Martian. Now phone," he says, already glancing around; his gaze lands on a cash machine, "I'll get money!"

Before Donna can protest, the Doctor and the Alchemist sprint off toward the ATM, slipping into the queue. The Doctor bounces impatiently on his heels, shifting from foot to foot.

The Alchemist smirks, then steps behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. The Doctor sighs and leans back against her, rolling his head onto her shoulder.

"We'll deal with this," she murmurs, "and then go somewhere quiet for a bit, yeah, love?"

He hums in agreement, swaying gently with her.

Then, she abruptly pulls away. He blinks at her in confusion.

"We need to hurry," the Alchemist says, her voice sharper now.

Her head snaps toward Donna, catching snippets of her conversation with a woman on the sidewalk. But something else catches her attention—the stiff figures lurking at the edges of her vision.

From behind plastic masks, they suddenly raise brass instruments and launch into a loud, almost menacing rendition of God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

The Alchemist's eyes narrow.

"Robot scavengers," she growls.

The Doctor turns from the ATM just as the eerie carol reaches his ears.

His expression tightens, 'I'm not seeing things from exhaustion, right?'

"No!" the Alchemist shouts, already sprinting toward Donna.

A taxi pulls up; Donna wastes no time climbing inside.

"St. Mary's, Chiswick!" she instructs the driver.

She pauses just before shutting the door, throwing one last glare at the Time Lords, "Thanks for nothing, spaceman! …I'll see you two in court!"

The door slams shut, and the taxi speeds off.

The Alchemist, despite the urgency, lets out a small laugh, 'Did she just unknowingly quote me? '

The Doctor shoots her a look, 'This is seriously not the time, Amara. '

She nods, expression hardening, "Donna!"

The Time Lords take off, chasing after the taxi, but they're too late—it disappears into the busy street.

They barely have time to catch their breath before they turn to see the masked Santas lowering their instruments—aiming them directly at the two of them.

The Alchemist's reflexes kick in. In a swift motion, she whips out her sonic and aims it at the ATM. A high-pitched whine pierces the air before the machine explodes with banknotes, sending them fluttering in all directions.

The crowd erupts in chaos. People rush to grab the loose money, shoving and scrambling, creating the perfect distraction.

The Time Lords don't waste a second. They spin on their heels and sprint toward the TARDIS, throwing open the doors and racing inside.

[TARDIS]

The Time Lord hits the console with the mallet and the Alchemist glares at him.

"Stop that!" she shouts.

He rolls his eyes and pockets the hammer. The Alchemist heads to the console and begins to type in the tracking directive sending the ship spinning down the street.

"You fly, I'll grab her," the Time Lady shouts as they continue to work.

Sparks fly from the console and the Doctor pulls out the hammer again, hitting it against the console.

"Behave!"

"You behave, Spaceman! Stop hitting Bluette!" the Time Lady shouts as she heads towards the doors, ready to pull in Donna.

[Taxi]

The TARDIS weaves through the traffic, bouncing off the tarmac here and there as It comes alongside the taxi. The Alchemist pulls open the doors.

'Wrong way' the TARDIS grumbles in her mind.

'Keep digesting, Sexy,' she says back.

The Alchemist kneels on the TARDIS ramp, leaning out as far as she dares, "Open the door!" she shouts.

"Do what?" Donna yells back, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Open the door!" the Time Lady repeats, louder this time.

"I can't! It's locked!" Donna tugs frantically at the handle, rattling it uselessly.

The Alchemist flicks on her sonic screwdriver, aiming it at the cab's mechanism. With a buzz and a click, the window unlocks, and Donna manages to shove it open.

"Santa's a robot!" she exclaims.

"Donna, open the door."

"What for?"

"You've got to jump! I'll catch you."

At those words, the robo-Santa snaps its head around, its sensors whirring.

Donna gapes at her, "I'm not blinking flip jumping! I'm supposed to be getting married!"

The taxi speeds off, zooming past the TARDIS.

Inside, the Doctor grits his teeth as he fights with the controls, sparks flying from the console. Explosions pop around him as he frantically yanks levers and slams buttons, trying to keep up with the cab. Just as the TARDIS pulls alongside it, the taxi surges forward again, and with a thud, the Doctor crashes into the roof of a car.

"Faster, Doctor!" the Alchemist shouts over the chaos.

He yelps, shaking off a fresh burn on his hand, "You try flying a TARDIS like a plane !"

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, I have. On my exam. That I passed! Take off the damn brakes for once and turn on the Hellunon markers !"

"Oh," he blinks, then hurriedly flips the correct switches.

The TARDIS surges forward, pulling up beside the cab once more. The Alchemist reaches out, aiming her sonic at the robotic driver. A sharp buzz later, the automaton stiffens, its metal hands clamping onto the wheel in a locked position.

She ducks back inside and turns to Donna, "Listen to me, you brave woman! You've got to jump."

"I'm not jumping on a motorway!"

"Whatever that thing is, it needs you. And whatever it needs you for—it's not good! Now, come on! Jump!"

"I'm in my wedding dress!"

"Yes, and you look beyond beautiful!" the Time Lady grins, "I had a silly hat! Now jump, come on!"

Donna hesitates, gripping the doorframe, then shakes her head, fear creeping in, "I... I can't do it."

"Trust me."

Their eyes meet, the Alchemist's gaze steady, compelling.

Donna swallows hard, "Is that what you said to her? Your ex-friend? The one you lost? Did she trust you?"

The Alchemist inhales sharply, steadying herself. "Yes. Regardless of everything she did," she swallows, her voice softer but firm, "And sheis not dead. She tried to come between my husband and me, and despite everything she did and said… she is still alive . She is so alive," she holds out her hand, "Now, jump, you amazing woman!"

Donna squeezes her eyes shut—then launches herself from the taxi with a scream.

The Alchemist lunges forward, catching her mid-air and hauling her into the TARDIS. They stumble back, landing hard, but the Time Lady keeps her grip firm.

Donna wobbles to her feet, breathless, wide-eyed. The Alchemist grins at her, then quickly turns toward her Bondmate after shutting the doors, worry flickering across her face.

The Time Lady sprints to his side, helping steady the TARDIS as it lands before reaching for his hands with gentle urgency. Her brow furrows as she examines them.

"You've burned yourself," she mutters, her touch featherlight over the reddened skin.

He sighs, brushing it off, "It'll..."

Before he can finish, the Alchemist lifts her hand, drawing on the residual time reversal energy she still carries from the Battle at Canary Wharf. A soft golden glow shimmers over his burns, the damage unraveling as if it had never happened.

"...Heal," he finishes, blinking as the pain vanishes; a slow smile tugs at his lips before he presses a grateful kiss to her forehead.

Their attention snaps back to the console as a fresh wave of smoke billows out, sparks still flying. The TARDIS groans in protest, struggling to recover from the rough flight.

"She needs to heal herself, huh?" the Alchemist notes, glancing at him.

He nods, already reaching for the emergency fire extinguisher.

As the Doctor tackles the dissipating flames and smoke, the Time Lady grabs Donna's hand and leads her towards the doors, pressing a clean handkerchief over both their mouths to shield them from the fumes.

[Shoe Lane rooftop]

Donna looks down at her watch sadly as the Doctor shoots the fire extinguisher in through the TARDIS doors. White smoke is billowing out and The Alchemist is coughing heavily on the side of the roof next to the human woman.

"The funny thing is," he says lightly as he walks over to check on Donna and his wife, "For a spaceship, she doesn't really do that much flying. We'd better give her a couple of hours. You both alright?"

The Alchemist takes a deep breath and nods, leaning back into him as he presses a worried kiss to the back of her head.

Donna shrugs, gazing out over the city, "Doesn't matter."

The Alchemist pulls away from the Doctor and steps toward her, voice gentle yet firm, "Of course it does, Donna," without hesitation, she pulls the bride into a warm embrace, "Did we miss it?"

"Yeah," Donna mutters into the Time Lady's shoulder before pulling back with a resigned sigh.

"Well, you can book another date," the Doctor suggests.

"Course we can," Donna agrees, though her voice lacks conviction.

He exhales, rubbing at the back of his head, "You've still got the honeymoon..."

"It's just a holiday now."

"Yeah. Yeah," he nods, ruffling his hair, "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he glances at his wife with an amused grin, "Oh? That's a change."

"You know," the Alchemist chimes in, "You could always get hitched on your honeymoon. Moroccan wedding, just a few invitees? I'll officiate."

Donna exhales heavily, laughing despite herself, "No, I really wanted..." she pauses before chuckling, "Wish you had a time machine, then we could go back and get it right."

The Time Lords exchange knowing looks behind her back.

"Yeah... yeah," the Doctor murmurs, turning a quick glance toward the TARDIS, "But even if we did, we couldn't go back on someone's personal timeline—apparently."

Donna frowns at the cryptic remark before settling onto the edge of the rooftop. The Alchemist sits beside her, a comforting hand rubbing slow circles over her shoulder. Together, they look out toward St. Paul's Cathedral and the sprawling city beyond.

The Doctor quietly shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Donna's shoulders before settling down on her other side.

She tugs it tighter around herself with a scoff, "God, you're skinny. This wouldn't fit a rat."

The Alchemist quirks a brow, "Are you calling me a rat?"

Donna laughs, "Nah, you're some kind of alien model or something."

"Well, I'll take that over 'Martian' any day," the Time Lady grins, "Oh, and you'd better put this on."

She reaches into her pocket, producing a small gold ring and holding it out.

Donna frowns, "Oh, do you have to rub it in?"

"Those creatures can trace you," the Doctor explains, pointing at the ring, "That is a bio-damper. Should keep you hidden."

"With this ring, I thee bio-damp," the Alchemist teases with a wink as she slides it onto Donna's finger.

Donna lets out a breathy laugh, "For better or for worse. So, come on then—robot Santas. What are they for?"

The Alchemist shrugs, "They're your basic robo-scavengers. The Father Christmas getup is just a disguise. They're trying to blend in. We met them last Christmas."

"Why? What happened then?"

The Doctor raises an incredulous brow, "Great big spaceship hovering over London? You didn't notice?"

"I had a bit of a hangover," Donna shrugs.

The Time Lord nods toward a nearby block of flats, "We spent Christmas Day just over there, Powell Estate, with this family. Our friend..."

"Ex-friend," the Alchemist corrects coolly, "She had this family. Nice family. Well, they were. Still, gone now."

Donna squints at them both before turning to the Doctor, "Your… ex-friend. Who was she? Did she really try to seduce you away from your wife?"

The Doctor exhales sharply, shoulders tensing.

"Yes," the Alchemist whispers, gaze averted as the wind carries her words away.

Donna catches the quiet admission, frowning in concern at the Time Lady.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor shifts the conversation, "Question is, what do camouflaged robot mercenaries want with you? And how did you get inside the TARDIS? I don't know. What's your job?"

"I'm a secretary," Donna says with a shrug.

The Doctor nods and pulls out his sonic screwdriver, scanning her, "It's weird. I mean, you're not special, you're not powerful, you're not connected, you're not clever, you're not important…"

The Alchemist immediately reaches around and smacks the back of his head.

"Ow! Again?" He yelps, rubbing the spot.

"Thank you, Ally," Donna huffs before batting away the sonic, "And stop bleeping me!"

"What kind of secretary?" the Alchemist asks, redirecting the conversation.

"I'm at HC Clements. It's where I met Lance. I was temping. I mean, it was all a bit posh, really. I'd spent the last two years at a double-glazing firm. Thought I'd never fit in there. And then he made me a coffee." she pauses, smiling at the memory, "I mean, that just doesn't happen. Nobody gets the secretaries a coffee."

"Coffee?" the Alchemist tilts her head, gears turning, "How often?"

"Oh, every day! He's so thoughtful." Donna's smile widens, "And Lance—he's the head of HR! He didn't need to bother with me. But he was nice, he was funny. And it turns out he thought everyone else was really snotty too. So that's how it started—me and him. One cup of coffee... that was it."

"When was this?" the Doctor asks, his tone shifting.

"Six months ago," she says, beaming.

The Time Lords exchange a long, wary glance.

"Bit quick to get married," the Doctor notes, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, he insisted," Donna shrugs, "And he nagged, and he nagged me. …And he just wore me down. And then finally, I just gave in."

The Alchemist lets out an inelegant snort before covering it with a forced cough, while the Doctor bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a grin.

'I don't believe that for a second,' he tells his wife.

The Alchemist clears her throat, refocusing, "What does HC Clements do?"

"Oh, security systems… you know, entry codes, ID cards, that sort of thing. If you ask me, it's just a posh name for locksmiths."

"Keys," the Doctor murmurs, nodding slowly in thought.

Donna exhales, shaking off the topic, "Anyway, enough of my CV. Come on, it's time to face the consequences. Oh, this is going to be so shaming. You two can do the explaining, Martian boy and gal."

"Yeah, we're not from Mars," the Doctor corrects with a small sigh.

"We're not even from this solar system," the Alchemist adds with a playful wink.

"Still Martian," Donna insists before her shoulders slump; she lets out a heavy sigh, voice tinged with sorrow, "Oh, I had this great big reception all planned. Everyone's going to be heartbroken…"

[Reception]

The Doctor holds open the door to the Reception Hall, letting Donna and the Alchemist step through before following them inside. He comes to an abrupt stop beside them, eyes widening at the scene before him. The room is alive with laughter and music, guests twirling under the disco ball, drinks in hand, conversations flowing. The buffet tables are still piled high with food, and at the bar, people chat merrily, oblivious to the new arrivals.

Donna's arms fold tightly across her chest as her gaze locks onto her mother's. The older woman freezes, her expression shifting guiltily. One by one, the guests begin to notice the trio standing in the doorway, their excited chatter fading into an awkward silence.

Donna's voice cuts through the hush, sharp with disbelief, "You had the reception… without me?"

A man in a suit steps forward, brow furrowed with concern, "Donna, what happened to ya?"

She spins toward him, her fury doubling, "You had the reception without me!?"

The tension in the room is palpable until the Doctor breaks it with a bright, "Hello! I'm the Doctor, and this is my wife, the Alchemist."

The Time Lady lifts a hand in an awkward wave, her grimace barely hidden.

But Donna is too incensed to be distracted as she gestures wildly toward the crowd, "They had the reception without me!"

The Doctor nods, his tone dry, "Yes, we gathered."

"Well, it was all paid for. Why not?" a blonde woman remarks, lifting her chin with an air of self-importance.

Donna scoffs, her glare landing on the woman, "Thank you, Nerys."

The Alchemist winces, leaning toward the Doctor, "Ah, I get the whole Nerys thing now."

"Yep," he nods knowingly.

Nerys huffs, clearly offended by their exchange.

A second blonde woman, bearing a resemblance to Donna, steps forward with an exasperated sigh, "Well, what were we supposed to do?" she demands, "I got your silly little message in the end—'I'm on Earth'—very funny," she scoffs, "What the hell happened? How did you do it? What's the trick? Because I'd love to know."

Before Donna can answer, the reception erupts into chaos. Guests talk over one another, shouting, demanding answers, pointing fingers. The noise swells, grating against the Alchemist's nerves until she visibly flinches at the overwhelming volume.

Then, suddenly, Donna lets out a wail and bursts into tears, covering her face with her hands. Her sobs are loud, dramatic, heart-wrenching.

Instantly, the room falls silent, concern replacing curiosity. The man from before—Lance—steps forward and wraps his arms around Donna, letting her cry into his shoulder.

A moment later, the crowd bursts into applause, moved by the spectacle. All except Nerys, who rolls her eyes.

Donna lifts her head slightly and throws a sly wink toward the Time Lords.

The Alchemist huffs a quiet laugh, "She's really good."

The Doctor leans in, whispering with amusement, "Almost as good as Nightingale."

Hand in hand, the Bondmates stroll past the scene, chuckling at the memory of their daughter as a mischievous little Time Tot.

Later, they lean against the bar, overlooking the dance floor where Donna and Lance dance together under the disco ball happily. The Doctor smirks before reaching over and grabbing his wife's hand, dragging her out.

"Do we have to?" she grumbles.

"At a wedding?" he replies, "Yes."

"Reception," the Time Lady corrects as he situates his hands and they begin to dance.

The Doctor spins her, "Any working theories?"

She sighs, "Has to be something massive affecting Donna to pull her in like that."

"How massive?" he asks, pulling her back in.

The Alchemist moves her arms up so she can play with his hair at the nape of his neck; he presses a kiss to her forehead.

"Mm, some kind of power pull," she explains.

They dance until the song ends and she guides them off the floor back to the bar when she spots a man looking at his smartphone.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I borrowed your phone to look up something quickly? Mine's spent," the Time Lady tells him with a smile.

"Uh, yeah, of course," he mumbles, looking her up and down, and hands it over.

She accepts it and turns slightly, looking up HC Clements.

'HC Clements... the sole proprietor is Torchwood, Theta,' she tells him and he glances at her with wide eyes.

"Thanks," the Alchemist says and hands the phone back.

"I don't suppose you left your number?" the man flirts.

The Doctor steps over, "Check the rings, mate."

They both lift their left hands, fingers wiggling to showcase their matching silver wedding bands and the Alchemist's engagement ring, studded with White-Point Star diamonds and emeralds.

The man's smirk vanishes. He swallows hard and retreats.

The couple exchange an annoyed look before shifting their focus back to the room. The Doctor soon spots a man recording the reception and nudges his wife, tilting his head toward the cameraman. They make their way over.

"Hey, you didn't happen to get a recording of that almost-ceremony, did you?" the Doctor asks casually.

The man chuckles, "Oh, I taped the whole thing. Everyone's had a look. They said I should sell it to You've Been Framed. I said, 'More like the News.'"

The couple nod as he scrolls through the footage.

"Here we are," the cameraman announces.

Their amusement vanishes as they watch, eyes widening. Donna—mid-ceremony—suddenly transforms into golden energy and is ripped into the sky, screaming.

The Doctor's breath catches, "Can't be…" he whispers, stunned.

The Alchemist's jaw tightens, "Can you play it again?"

The man chuckles as he obliges, "Clever trick, mind. I was clapping."

"But that looks like Huon Particles," the Time Lady whispers, alarmed.

The cameraman frowns, "What's that, then?"

She turns to look at Donna and then back at the Doctor in horror.

"That's impossible. That's ancient," The Doctor reminds her, "Huon energy doesn't exist anymore, not for billions of years."

"Yes, and it's found in the heart of a Type 40 TARDIS. It's so old that it can't be hidden by a biodamper!" she cries out.

Realization dawns, and the couple moves in perfect sync—spinning on their heels and sprinting toward the entrance. Outside, dark figures approach through the night.

Robot Santas.

They share a nod before bolting towards where Donna is.

"Donna!" the Alchemist calls, voice sharp with urgency, "Donna, they've found you!"

She turns to the pair and gasps out, "But you said I was safe."

"The bio-damper doesn't work," the Doctor explains, "We've got to get everyone out!"

Donna's gaze sweeps over the crowd—her family, her friends, all completely unaware of the danger closing in.

Her breath catches, " Oh my God… it's all my family… "

The Alchemist turns and runs, "Out the back door!"

She flings it open only for them to be met by two more Robo Scavengers.

"Maybe not," the Doctor mutters, already backpedaling, his grip tightening around the Alchemist's hand as they retreat into the hall.

Glancing out the windows, they spot more approaching figures. The Time Lady shakes her head grimly.

"There's more. "

Donna swallows hard, "We're trapped."

The Alchemist spots one of the Robot Santas holding something; focusing her vision she spots it and shows her husband; a remote control. They both turn and see the giant Christmas tree surrounded by presents and covered in round ornaments in the center of the Reception Hall.

"Christmas trees," the Time Lady recalls.

Donna looks at her, "What about them?"

"They kill," the Doctor replies darkly.

"Get away from the tree!" the Alchemist and the Doctor shout in unison, sprinting forward with urgency.

Donna rushes toward the younger members of her family, arms outstretched as she tries to herd them away, "Don't touch the trees!"

"Get away from the Christmas trees!" the Doctor bellows, his voice rising over the music and chatter, "Everyone, get away! Stay away from the trees!"

"Move!" the Alchemist shouts, physically shoving some of the oblivious dancers out of harm's way.

Sylvia Noble scoffs, arms crossed, "Oh, for God's sake, they're idiots," she mutters with exasperation, "Why? What harm's a Christmas tree going to—"

Her voice trails off as the ornaments suddenly lift into the air, floating up in eerie unison. They hover over the guests, twinkling innocently.

"...Oh," she finishes weakly.

The crowd stares, fascinated—right up until the Alchemist snaps her sonic into position, aiming to disable the baubles. A flicker of hope sparks—only to be extinguished as the moment one shuts down, it immediately reactivates.

"Doctor, it's a transitional signal!" she yells over the growing commotion, "The sonic's useless for this!"

Before either Time Lord can warn them again, the ornaments whip through the air, streaking toward the guests and the dance floor. The first impacts explode, sending shockwaves through the room.

Screams erupt.

Tables overturn. Chairs crash down. People scramble for cover as a blast sends a man hurtling through the air—he lands with a sickening thud right into the wedding cake.

Donna and Lance dive under a table as debris scatters around them. The Alchemist's sharp eyes dart across the chaos, assessing.

The Alchemist calls out, 'Sound system!'

The Doctor follows her gaze—up past the DJ's booth—spotting the six Santas now lined up in front of the bar.

He nods. She immediately reaches into her pocket, retrieving earplugs and shoving them in place before sprinting toward the DJ table, the Doctor hot on her heels. They skid behind it just as another explosion rattles the hall.

"Oi!" the Doctor pops back up, calling out with a grin, "Santa! Word of advice—if you're attacking a man with a sonic screwdriver, don't let him near the sound system."

"Everyone cover your ears!" the Alchemist yells at full volume, demonstrating by clamping her hands over her own.

The Doctor jams his screwdriver into the amplifier. A high-pitched frequency shrieks through the hall, a sound so sharp it cuts through everything else. The harmonic vibrations tear through the Santa Bots, making them shake violently before collapsing into heaps of scrap metal.

As soon as the last one drops, the Alchemist wastes no time—she dashes toward the wreckage, kicking aside the debris, eyes scanning for the remote. The Doctor turns his attention toward Donna.

"It's all right, Stan," Donna's father says, "You'll be all right. It's all over."

"Michael? Connie?" Donna asks, checking on some of the children.

She whirls around and shouts, "Oh, Senita, do something useful! "

Meanwhile, Donna's mother recovers enough to demand answers, "What were they? What is this!?"

"Will someone with a phone call 999 already?" the Alchemist shouts, still digging through the wreckage.

She's already snatched up a robot's head, tucking it under her arm as she sifts through the debris.

Donna groans at her mother's continued complaints, "Just stop wittering and help them!"

Finally, the Alchemist's fingers close around the remote. She jogs back over and tosses it to the Doctor, who flips it over in his hands.

"Look at that," he muses, "Remote control for the decorations—but there's a second control for the robots."

"They're not scavengers anymore," the Alchemist agrees, eyes narrowing. "I think someone's taken possession."

But Donna has had enough of their cryptic nonsense.

"Never mind all that!" she snaps, "You're a doctor. People have been hurt!"

The Doctor doesn't even look up, "Nah, they wanted you alive. Look," he casually tosses an ornament at her—she flinches, but it simply bounces off, harmless.

"They're not active now."

Donna scoffs, crossing her arms, "All I'm saying is, you could help."

The Alchemist meets her gaze, "We are helping, Donna."

She lifts the robot's head to her ear, listening. A second later, she rolls her eyes and yanks her earplugs out before trying again.

The Doctor nods, "Got to think of the bigger picture."

The Alchemist's expression suddenly shifts.

She jerks the head away, turning sharply toward him, "There's still a signal."

That's all the confirmation he needs.

The Alchemist adjusts her sonic, already calibrating a tracer.

"Donna, who are they?" Donna's mother's voice cuts through the aftermath as the trio rushes outside, running toward their next lead.

[Outside the reception hotel]

The Doctor adjusts his sonic, his brow furrowed as he examines the frequency from the robot head.

"There's someone behind this, directing the Roboforms," he explains, eyes scanning the darkened sky.

Donna shakes her head, frustration evident, "But why is it me? What have I done?"

The Alchemist, running her own scans, glances up at her, "I don't think you've done anything. But if we find the controller, we'll find out what they did."

The Doctor suddenly straightens, holding his sonic high, "Ooh! It's up there. Something in the sky."

The Alchemist mirrors his motion, raising her own sonic and adjusting its settings. But just as quickly as they found it, the signal vanishes.

"I've lost the signal," the Doctor huffs, lowering his screwdriver.

The Alchemist frowns at her device, "Someone turned it off."

She exhales sharply, pivoting toward Donna, "Donna, we've got to get to your office. HC Clements. I think that's where it all started."

Before Donna can respond, they spot Lance approaching.

"Lance! Is it Lance?" the Doctor calls, already jogging over before breaking into a full sprint, "Lance, can you give us a lift?"

The Alchemist offers a more measured approach as her husband rushes past, flashing Lance a polite smile, "We'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't mind."

Lance, still bewildered, nods along.

[Lance's Car]

The Alchemist sits in silence, her gaze distant as the Doctor chatters on, his words a constant stream of thought while Lance drives them toward HC Clements. She isn't really listening—not fully. Instead, fragments of the conversation loop in her mind, pieces clicking together like a puzzle she hasn't quite solved yet.

"Got to think of the bigger picture."

"Nah, they wanted you alive."

"Keys."

"Huon… keys…" she murmurs under her breath, the words tumbling out as if speaking them aloud might help solidify her thoughts.

She's so deep in her theorizing that she doesn't notice the shift in her Bondmate—the way his hands clench subtly, his jaw tightening as a slow-burning rage forms beneath his skin. He buries it quickly, concealing the storm behind an easy façade, but it lingers.

The moment they arrive at HC Clements, there's no hesitation. They burst out of the car, racing into the building, heading straight for Donna's desk and her computer

[HC Clements Office]

"To you lot, this might just be a locksmith's, Donna," the Alchemist explains, arms crossed as she watches the Doctor work his way into the system, fingers flying over the keyboard, "But HC Clements was bought up twenty-three years ago by the Torchwood Institute."

Donna tilts her head, frowning, "Who are they?"

"They were behind the battle of Canary Wharf," the Doctor says without looking up, his focus locked on the screen.

"Cyberman invasion?" the two Time Lords say in unison, completely ignoring the odd look Lance shoots their way.

Donna shrugs, unimpressed, "Oh, I was in Spain."

"They had Cybermen in Spain," the Alchemist counters, confusion flickering across her face.

"Scuba diving," Donna replies matter-of-factly.

The Time Lady exhales sharply, shaking her head before moving to the computer next to the Doctor, deciding to take matters into her own hands.

"That big picture, Donna—you keep missing it," the Doctor says, shaking his head as he types, "Torchwood was destroyed, but HC Clements stayed in business."

"We think someone else stepped in and took over the operation," the Alchemist mutters, glaring when the Doctor smacks his monitor in frustration.

'What is with you and hitting technology today?' she silently questions him with a raised brow.

He simply shrugs in response.

"But what do they want with me?" Donna asks, shifting her weight nervously.

"Somehow, you've been dosed with Huon energy," the Alchemist explains softly, her expression grave, "And that's a problem because Huon energy hasn't existed since the Dark Times. The only place you'd find a Huon particle these days is a remnant in the heart of our TARDIS."

"See? That's what happened," the Doctor grabs a mug from the desk and turns to face Donna, "Say, this is the TARDIS," he announces, holding it up.

In his other hand, he waggles a pencil, "And this is you."

The Alchemist barely suppresses an eye roll as he shakes the mug and pencil around wildly.

"The particles inside you activated," he continues, dramatically swirling them together, "The two sets of particles magnetized and—whap!" he drops the pencil into the mug, where it clatters and rolls around inside, "You were pulled inside the TARDIS."

Donna grimaces, "I'm a pencil inside a mug?"

"Yes, you are," he confirms with an enthusiastic nod, "4H. Sums you up."

The Alchemist groans aloud, snatching the mug from his hand and setting it back on the desk with a sharp clink, "No, magnetized, as the Doctor meant to say," she corrects, "You know when you hold two opposite magnets together—A and B?"

Donna nods slowly, "They connect."

"Exactly. That's what happened to you and our… home," the Time Lady explains.

The Doctor gestures toward her, "Ally's always better at explaining this stuff," he admits before pivoting to Donna's fiancé, "Now, Lance? What was HC Clements working on? Anything top secret? Special operations? 'Do not enter?'"

Lance glares at them, clearly frustrated, "I don't know, I'm in charge of personnel! I wasn't project manager. Why am I even explaining myself? What the hell are we talking about?"

The Doctor looks over at the Alchemist's computer screen, working perfectly, and goes over what she has up, It shows a plan of the building.

"They make keys," the Time Lady states, motioning toward the screen, "That's the point."

He nods, his finger trailing over the digital blueprint, "And look at this. We're on the third floor."

'Race ya,' The Time Lady's voice flits through his mind.

Without hesitation, they bolt for the lift, sprinting full-tilt. The Alchemist reaches the button first, slamming it triumphantly.

The Doctor pouts as they wait.

Lance and Donna, much slower to follow, approach with confused expressions.

"Underneath reception, there's a basement, yeah?" the Time Lady asks, glancing back at them.

Both nod, still trying to keep up.

[Lift]

The doors open with a 'ping!' and then the Alchemist and the Doctor head inside.

They glance over the controls before the Doctor continues, "Then how come, when you look at the lift, there's a button marked 'lower basement?'"

The Alchemist gestures toward the panel, her gaze sharp, "There's an entire floor that doesn't exist on the official plans. So what's down there?"

Lance raises an eyebrow, "Are you telling me this building's got a secret floor?"

The Time Lady purses her lips, shaking her head with a knowing smirk, "No, we're showing you this building's got a secret floor."

Donna steps closer, eyeing the button, "It needs a key."

"We don't," the Doctor quips, flashing his sonic screwdriver.

A quick buzz, and the lock clicks open. With a flourish, he presses the button.

"Right then. Thanks, you two," he says, turning toward Donna and Lance with a bright grin, "We can handle this. See you later."

The Alchemist waves with a cheerful grin.

"No chance, Martians," Donna scoffs, arms crossed, "You're the couple who keep saving my life. I ain't letting you out of my sight."

The Time Lords exchange a glance, then shrug as Donna confidently strides into the lift.

"Going down," the Doctor quips with a mischievous grin.

Donna turns back, calling out, "Lance?"

He hesitates, glancing behind him, "Maybe I should go to the police…"

"Inside," she orders firmly.

With a heavy sigh, Lance steps into the lift.

"To honor and obey?" the Doctor teases, smirking.

Lance mutters under his breath, "Tell me about it, mate."

"Oi!" Donna barks, shooting him a glare.

The Alchemist, unimpressed, swats the Doctor on the back of his head—this time, a little harder.

"Ow, Ally! That one actually hurt!" he whines, rubbing the sore spot.

She scoffs, "Better 'obey' then."

The Doctor winces, deciding not to push his luck as the lift doors slide shut. The carriage hums softly as it descends, tension thick in the air.

With another crisp 'ping!,' the doors glide open, revealing a dimly lit, damp corridor. The walls glisten with moisture, and an eerie green light flickers overhead, casting long, wavering shadows.

[Lower basement corridor]

"Where are we?" Donna asks, glancing around warily, "What exactly goes on down here?"

The Alchemist shrugs, "Let's find out."

Hand in hand, the Time Lords set off down the corridor, swinging their joined hands playfully between them.

Donna watches them, frowning, "Do you think Mister Clements knows about this place?"

"The mysterious HC Clements?" the Doctor muses, tilting his head, "I think he's part of it."

"Oh, look!" the Alchemist exclaims suddenly, pointing ahead.

"Transport," the Doctor nods in agreement.

Her face lights up with excitement as she jumps onto one of the segways lined up before them. Without hesitation, the Doctor climbs on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Off they go.

Donna, in the middle still wearing her wedding dress, looks between the three segways before bursting out laughing. The Alchemist leans over and winks at her and she and the Doctor start to crack up as well. Lance just looks at them—confused.

Their ride comes to a stop in front of a large bulkhead door labeled: Torchwood. Authorized Personnel Only.

The Alchemist dismounts smoothly, stepping forward to spin the wheel lock. She pulls the door open, revealing a ladder leading upward. Without hesitation, she starts climbing.

The Doctor, still on the ground, glances back at Donna and Lance, "Wait here. Just need to get our bearings. Don't do anything."

Donna fixes him with a firm stare, "You'd better come back."

The Doctor flashes a grin, "We couldn't get rid of you if we tried."

Above them, the Alchemist calls down playfully, "Kinda thinking about keeping you, actually."

As the two Time Lords disappear up the ladder, Lance leans closer to Donna, his voice low and urgent, "Donna, have you thought about this? Properly? I mean, this is serious! What the hell are we gonna do?"

Donna, clearly distracted, mutters, "Oh, I thought July," before flashing him a small, absentminded smile.

Meanwhile, the Alchemist continues climbing, eventually reaching another sealed bulkhead door. She unlocks it, hoists herself up, and steps aside for the Doctor to follow.

The moment he's up, they take in their surroundings—standing atop Number Eight in the Thames Barrier. The Alchemist rubs her eyes tiredly before they both turn back, heading down.

She drops the last six feet effortlessly, landing lightly on her feet. The Doctor steps in front of her so Donna and Lance don't see her little shortcut.

"Thames flood barrier! Right on top of us," the Doctor explains, brushing off the dust, "Torchwood snuck in and built this place underneath."

Donna's jaw drops, "What, there's like a secret base hidden underneath a major London landmark?"

The Doctor pulls an exaggeratedly sarcastic face, "Oh, I know. Unheard of. "

"Shocker," the Alchemist deadpans.

[Laboratory]

"Ooh, look at this, Ally! Stunning! " The Doctor exclaims, dashing forward with the excitement of a child in a sweet shop.

At the end of the hallway lies an extensive laboratory, gleaming with sleek machinery and brimming with chemistry gear. Glass tubes bubble with glowing reactions, and metallic arms hum with quiet precision.

The Alchemist steps forward, her sharp gaze settling on one particular setup. Her expression darkens.

"Particle extrusion," she murmurs, almost to herself, her voice laced with concern.

Donna frowns, "What does it do?"

"Particle extrusion?" The Doctor echoes, suddenly shifting gears as he bounds over to join his wife, "Hold on—this is brilliant!"

The Alchemist sighs, "They've been manufacturing Huon particles."

"Course, our people got rid of Huons," the Doctor winces, "They unravel the atomic structure."

"Your people?" Lance demands, "Who are they? What company do you represent?"

The Doctor waves him off, already diving headfirst into his next train of thought, " Oh, we're freelancers. But this lot? They're rebuilding them. They've been using the river, extruding Huon particles through a flat hydrogen base until they've got the final product—Huon particles in liquid form."

The Alchemist picks up a test tube filled with the glowing substance, holding it up for closer inspection. She glances at the Doctor, giving him a small nod.

His face falls slightly. He swallows hard.

"And that's what's inside me?" Donna asks, her voice a touch smaller now.

The Alchemist turns the knob at the top of the test tube. Instantly, the liquid inside pulses with a golden glow.

So does Donna.

She gasps, looking down at herself in shock, "Oh my God! "

"Genius," he mumbles before raising his voice, "Because the particles are inert, they need something living to catalyze inside and that's you. Saturate the body, and then... Ha!" he leaps backward and Donna jumps with fright at the move.

"The wedding! Yes! That's it! Best day of your life, walking down the aisle! Oh, your body's a battleground! There's a chemical war inside! Adrenaline, acetylcholine—Wham! go the endorphins! Oh, you're cooking! Yeah, you're like a walking oven! A pressure cooker! A microwave! All churning away, the particles reaching boiling point! Shazam!"

The Alchemist, unimpressed, raises a hand and points to Donna. Then to the Doctor.

Donna, already seeing where this is going, nods—and promptly slaps him.

"What did I do this time!?" he asks, swinging his head between the gingers.

"Think back," the Alchemist deadpans, "You might just catch on this time."

He looks up before wincing, "Sorry."

The Alchemist pats his shoulder, pocketing the particles, 'Forgiven, always.'

"Are you enjoying this!?" Donna demands, and the Doctor looks down sheepishly.

She exhales sharply, "Right. Just tell me—these particles. Are they dangerous? Am I safe?"

The Doctor hesitates, "Yes."

Donna studies him then the Alchemist, "Ally, Doctor—if your lot got rid of Huon particles… why did they do that?"

The Alchemist steps forward, reaching for Donna's hands.

"Because they were deadly, Donna."

Donna's grip tightens, "Oh my God. "

"We'll sort it out, Donna," the Time Lady tells her, "Whatever's been done to you, we'll reverse it."

The Doctor nods, "We're not about to lose someone else. Besides, we actually like you."

There are rumbles around them and they all look around.

"Oh, she is long since lost."

As the wall grinds upward, revealing a vast, tiered chasm, the trio steps forward cautiously. The Alchemist peers into the abyss, but even with her enhanced vision, she can't make out the bottom. It must be extremely deep.

She exhales slowly, piecing together the fragments of a theory she had been considering.

Huon keys… Dark Ages… Racnoss, she thinks, nodding grimly to herself.

From the darkness below, the voice echoes, dripping with ancient malice.

"I have waited so long… hibernating at the edge of the universe… until the secret heart was uncovered and called out to waken!"

Lance's breath hitches. His eyes dart wildly around the room before, in pure terror, he bolts down the corridor without hesitation.

The Alchemist's gaze sharpens as she watches him flee, tracking his every move with quiet scrutiny.

Black-robed robots step forward from the shadows, their weapons clicking into position, aiming directly at the Time Lords and Donna.

[Drilling site]

The Doctor leans forward, studying the deep chasm. His keen eyes scan the precision of the excavation.

"Someone's been digging. Oh, very Torchwood. Drilled by laser. How far down does it go?"

A voice echoes from the depths, thick with amusement, "Down and down, all the way to the center of the Earth!"

The Doctor frowns, tilting his head, "Really? Seriously? What for?"

Donna nods sagely, "Dinosaurs."

The Alchemist lets out a laugh, "What?" she turns to face her, "Dinosaurs?"

The Doctor gives Donna a bewildered look, "What are you on about, dinosaurs?"

"That film, Under the Earth, with dinosaurs. Trying to help," she shrugs.

He closes his eyes, exhaling sharply, "That's not helping."

The Alchemist shakes her head, amused.

A silky, mocking voice fills the air: "Oh, this trio is ever so sweet."

The Doctor steps forward, his tone darkening, "Only a madman talks to thin air. And trust me, you don't want to make me mad. Where are you?"

"High in the sky. Floating so high on Christmas night."

His jaw tightens, "We didn't come all this way to talk on the intercom. Come on, let's have a look at you!"

The Alchemist smirks, "I'm not sure I want to, love. I hear they're pretty horrendous to look upon."

The Doctor glances at her, noting the certainty in her expression. She's already worked it out. And she knows what's coming.

"Who are you, with such command and insult?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"And I'm the Alchemist."

"Prepare your best medicines, Doctor man, for you will be sick at heart. And you, Alchemist, will help lead this transformation!"

A blinding light flashes as their unseen speaker teleports in. The Alchemist immediately fake gags, much to the Doctor's amusement.

He gapes at the creature before them, "Racnoss? But that's impossible. You're one of the Racnoss?"

The Alchemist folds her arms, unimpressed, "She's the Empress, love," she says dryly, motioning to the being's crimson exoskeleton, "Look at her coloring. Red—hideous."

The Empress clicks her mandibles, "Your lady is right. I am the Empress of the Racnoss. It is an honor to be my shade!"

Above them, Lance scrambles up a ladder and bolts. The Alchemist tilts her head, tracking his movement with sharp eyes. Her gaze flicks up, and she grimaces before subtly nudging the Doctor. He follows her line of sight.

A pair of shoes dangles from a thick web across the ceiling. Black and white. Tuxedo shoes.

"HC Clements, did he wear those black and white shoes? Tuxedo shoes but silly?" the Alchemist asks suddenly.

The Empress nods, delighted, "He did. We used to laugh. We used to call him the fat cat in spats."

The Time Lords point upward simultaneously. Donna follows their gaze.

Her breath catches in her throat, "Oh, my God!" she gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The Empress bares her fangs in a grotesque grin, "Mmm. My Christmas dinner."

The Alchemist's expression darkens, her voice dropping into a growl, "You shouldn't even exist. Way back in history, the fledgling Empires went to war against the Racnoss. They were wiped out."

Meanwhile, Lance has reached a balcony overlooking the Empress. He grips an axe, raising a finger to his lips, miming for them to hush.

The Alchemist's eyes narrow. Something is off. The Lance she's observed so far—his micro-expressions, his behavior—none of it aligns with someone about to stage a rescue.

She glances at the Doctor, 'Lance is helping the Racnoss.'

He meets her gaze and nods subtly.

Donna, oblivious to the revelation, steps forward, locking eyes with the Empress.

"But that's what I've got inside me, that Huon energy thing. Oi! Look at me, lady, I'm talking. Where do I fit in? How come I get all stacked up with these Huon particles? Look at me, you! Look me in the eye and tell me!"

The Empress of the Racnoss laughs, "The bride is so feisty."

Lance continues sneaking up behind the giant Empress with a fire axe; not seeing the dark looks on the Time Lords' faces.

Donna points to her, "Yes, I am! And I don't know what you are, you big thing, but a spider's just a spider and an axe is an axe! Now—do it!"

Lance starts to swing the axe before stopping short and the Empress turns and hisses at him; the Alchemist glares harshly at the pair.

The man begins to laugh wildly before the Empress of Racnoss joins in.

Lance scoffs, "That was a good one. Your face!"

"Donna," the Alchemist whispers and takes the woman's hand.

She glances between her and Lance in confusion.

"Lance is funny," the Empress muses.

Donna looks aghast, "What?"

"I'm sorry," the Doctor tells her softly.

Donna glances frantically between the men, "Sorry for what? Lance, don't be so stupid! Get her!"

Lance rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh, "God, she's thick. Months I've had to put up with her. Months. A woman who can't even point to Germany on a map."

Donna's face falls, "I don't understand."

The Doctor's voice is gentle but firm, "How did you meet him?"

"In the office," she says, as if reminding him of something obvious.

The Alchemist nods knowingly, "He made you coffee."

Donna frowns, shaking her head, "What?"

Lance's lips curl into a wicked grin, "Every day, I made you coffee."

The Time Lady's voice is soft but serious, "Six months ago, Donna. You had to be dosed with liquid particles over six months for this to work."

Donna's eyes widen in horror, "He was poisoning me!"

The Doctor clenches his jaw, "It was all there in the job title. The Head of Human Resources. "

Lance smirks smugly, "This time, it's personnel."

The Alchemist glares, "You're not funny, Lance. You know, in medieval times, they did their very best to break you."

'Good one,' The Doctor's voice echoes in her mind, amused.

She merely shrugs, ignoring the flash of rage in Lance's eyes.

Donna's voice wavers, tears brimming, "But we were getting married."

Lance scoffs, "Well, I couldn't risk you running off, could I? Had to say yes. And then I was stuck with a woman who thinks the height of excitement is a new flavor of Pringle. Oh, I had to sit there and listen to all that yap, yap, yap. Brad and Angelina. Is Posh pregnant? X-Factor, Atkins Diet, Feng Shui, split ends, text me, text me, text me! Dear God, the never-ending fountain of fat, stupid trivia! I deserve a medal."

The Alchemist looks at him in utter disgust, her grip tightening around Donna's hand.

The Doctor's expression darkens, "Oh, is that what she's offered you?" he glances at the Empress, "The Empress of the Racnoss? What are you, her consort?"

Lance smirks, "It's better than a night with her."

The Alchemist raises an eyebrow, "So you'd rather have a night with a man-eating spider?"

Lance shoots her another glare, but she's unfazed.

Donna's voice is barely above a whisper, "But I love you."

Lance shakes his head, unbothered, "That's what made it easy. It's like you said, Doctor. The big picture. What's the point of it all if the human race is nothing? That's what the Empress can give me—the chance to go out there. To see it. The size of it all. I think you understand that, don't you, Doctor? Alchemist?"

The Empress clicks her mandibles, "Who is this little physician and his alchemist?"

Lance scoffs, "She said Martian."

The Doctor shrugs, "Oh, we're sort of… homeless. But the point is, what's down here? The Racnoss are extinct. What's going to help you four thousand miles down?"

The Alchemist crosses her arms, "That's just the molten core of the Earth, isn't it?"

Lance's smirk deepens, "I think they want us to talk."

"I think so too," the Empress confirms.

"Well, tough! All we need is Donna."

The Empress clicks, "Kill this chattering little doctor man and his ginger friend."

"That's wife! " the Alchemist shouts indignantly.

Before they can react, Donna steps in front of them, arms outstretched protectively.

"Don't you hurt them!" she yells.

The Doctor's voice is calm but urgent, "No, no, Donna. It's all right."

"I won't let them."

"At arms!" the Empress commands.

The black-robed robots snap to attention, leveling their guns at the Doctor and the Alchemist.

The Time Lady's lips curl into a grin, "...Except…"

"Take aim!"

The Doctor raises a finger, his tone light but firm, "Well, we just want to point out the obvious."

The Empress grins, mandibles clicking, "They won't hit the bride. They're such very good shots."

The Doctor tilts his head, "Just, just, just—just hold on. Hold on just a tick. Just a tiny little—just a little tick. If you think about it, the particles activated in Donna and drew her inside our spaceship…"

The Alchemist's grin widens as she turns the knob on the Huon container, "So reverse it… and the spaceship comes to her!"

"Fire!"

[TARDIS Console Room]

The TARDIS hums around them, solid and reassuring as Donna, the Doctor, and the Alchemist materialize inside.

"Off we go!" the Doctor shouts, throwing switches and spinning a dial as the engines roar to life.

[Drilling site]

Back at the excavation site, the Empress shrieks in fury, her voice echoing through the cavern.

"My key! My key!" she bellows, her mandibles clacking in frustration.

The TARDIS vanishes, leaving only the swirling remnants of its departure behind.

[TARDIS Console Room]

The Alchemist wastes no time, pulling Donna into a comforting embrace. Donna clings to her, pressing her face into the Time Lady's shoulder as the Alchemist gently rocks her side to side.

Meanwhile, the Doctor, entirely unaware of the moment unfolding behind him, is already swept up in the excitement of the mystery ahead. He dashes around the console, hands flying across controls as he launches into a tangent.

"Oh, do you know what I said before about time machines? Well, I lied. And now we're going to use it. We need to find out what the Empress of the Racnoss is digging up. If something's buried at the planet's core, it must've been there since the beginning. That's just brilliant. Molto bene! I've always wanted to see this. Donna, we're going further back than Ally and I have ever been before!"

His voice is electric with enthusiasm, but Donna remains buried in the Alchemist's embrace, her breathing shaky as the reality of the night's events weighs on her.

[TARDIS]

The TARDIS hums softly as it stabilizes in time and space. The Doctor turns from the console, his grin faltering slightly when he takes in the sight before him.

"We've arrived," he announces, though his voice carries a hint of hesitation.

The Alchemist holds Donna close, rubbing small, comforting circles on her back. Donna hasn't lifted her head from the Time Lady's shoulder.

"Want to see, Donna? I bet it's beautiful," the Alchemist whispers gently.

Donna exhales shakily and pulls away, giving a small nod, "I suppose."

She walks toward the screen, though her movements are sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion.

The Doctor hums, tilting his head, "Oh, that scanner's a bit small. Maybe your way's best."

He reaches for his wife's hand, and together they stride toward the doors.

"Come on," the Alchemist coaxes, her tone warm, "No human's ever seen this before. You'll be the first."

Donna looks down, hesitant, before stepping forward, "All I want to see is my bed."

"Maybe when it's made," the Time Lady teases with a small smirk.

The Doctor beams and pulls open the doors.

"Donna Noble, welcome to the creation of the Earth."

Outside the TARDIS, a breathtaking cosmic ballet unfolds. Particles of dust and jagged chunks of rock drift serenely in the light of a young, dust-covered sun.

The Alchemist's breath catches, "Oh, it's gorgeous..." she whispers, eyes glistening.

Sometimes she can't see it, sometimes neither of them can, but when they're able to it fills her with awe. This—this is the universe at its most raw and untamed.

The Doctor watches her, sensing her emotions through their Bond. The deep reverence she feels washes over him, momentarily dulling the simmering fury that has been building within him for hours.

"We've gone back four-point-six billion years," he explains, his voice steadier now, "There's no solar system—not yet. Just dust, rocks, and gas. That's the Sun over there, brand new, just beginning to burn."

Donna's brow furrows as she glances around, "Where's the Earth?"

The Alchemist lifts her arms, gesturing all around them, "It's here. In the dust."

Donna exhales, shaking her head, "Puts the wedding in perspective. Lance was right. We're just tiny."

The Doctor frowns, stepping closer, "No, but that's what you do. The human race makes sense out of chaos—marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars. This whole process is beautiful, but only if it's being observed."

The Alchemist grins, her excitement returning, "And every little bit of it? That's you, Donna. Stardust! You're made of stardust."

A small, genuine smile tugs at Donna's lips. "So I came out of all this?"

"Isn't that brilliant?" the Doctor grins.

A large chunk of rock drifts past the doorway. Donna points at it.

"I think that's the Isle of Wight."

Laughter bubbles up between them. The Alchemist pulls Donna into a side hug, which she happily returns.

The Doctor clears his throat, regaining focus, "Eventually, gravity takes hold. One big rock—heavier than the others—starts pulling more towards it. The dust, gas, and elements get drawn in, everything piling together until you get..."

"The Earth," Donna breathes, eyes wide with wonder.

The Alchemist's gaze sharpens as she scans the void, "But the question is—what was that first rock?"

Suddenly, something emerges from the dust clouds. A massive, seven-pointed star-shaped spaceship glides through the swirling debris.

"Look," Donna says, pointing.

The Alchemist's stomach drops, "The Racnoss."

The Doctor's eyes widen.,"Hold on!"

He dashes back to the console, spinning a wheel frantically, "The Racnoss are hiding from the war! But what's it doing?"

Donna crosses her arms, "Exactly what you just said."

Outside, the rocks and dust begin shifting, drawn toward the Racnoss ship. The gravitational pull intensifies.

"Oh no," the Alchemist whispers, dread creeping into her voice.

Her thoughts race, 'She's the new key. Huon Particle key to awaken the Racnoss.'

The Doctor looks at her sharply, catching the meaning in her words.

"Oh," he breathes, horror dawning in his eyes.

"They didn't just bury something at the center of the Earth," he says, voice tight. "They became the center of the Earth."

"The first rock," the Alchemist mutters, her glare fixed on the ship.

Without warning, the TARDIS lurches violently. The Doctor and Donna stumble, barely managing to stay upright. The Alchemist reaches forward and slams the doors shut.

"What was that!?" Donna demands, bracing herself.

"Trouble," the Time Lords reply grimly.

The Alchemist sprints toward the Doctor, grabbing onto the console for support.

The TARDIS shudders again, harder this time. Even the Alchemist struggles to keep her footing.

Donna clutches onto a railing, "What the hell's it doing!?"

"Remember that little trick of ours? Particles pulling particles?" The Doctor grips the controls tightly, "Well, it works in reverse."

"They're pulling us back!" the Alchemist shouts.

The couple works frantically around the console, flipping switches and twisting dials as the Racnoss exerts its force, trying to drag them out of the Vortex.

Donna, still clinging on for dear life, yells over the noise, "Well, can't you stop it? Hasn't it got a handbrake? Can't you reverse, or warp, or beam, or something!?"

The Doctor huffs, "Backseat driver, that's Ally's job!"

The Alchemist narrows her eyes, "Yeah, well, here's some backseat driving for you—Doctor, use the extrapolator!"

The Time Lord's eyes light up, "Oh! She's right!"

She dives under the console, yanking out the device.

"Perfect!" the Doctor grins, "It won't stop us, but it'll give us a good bump!"

The Alchemist groans, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... I give you permission to use the Mallet."

The Doctor's grin stretches wide. He presses a quick kiss to her lips before whipping the mallet out of his pocket.

They rematerialize at the drilling site, "Now!" the Alchemist calls out.

The Doctor hits the extrapolator with his mallet and the TARDIS rematerializes in one of the corridors instead.

[Lower basement corridor]

They sprint out of the TARDIS, slamming the door shut behind them.

"We're about two hundred yards to the right!" the Time Lady calls over her shoulder, "Come on!"

They dash through the corridors, skidding to a halt outside the door leading to the Thames Flood Barrier.

Donna, breathless, huffs, "But what do we do?"

The Doctor pulls out his stethoscope, pressing it against the door as he listens intently, "I don't know. We make it up as we go along. But trust me, we've got a history."

Donna shakes her head, frustrated, "But I still don't understand! I'm full of particles, but what for?"

Still listening through the stethoscope, the Time Lord explains, words tumbling out in a ramble, "There's a Racnoss web at the center of the Earth, but our people unraveled their power source. The Huon particles ceased to exist, and the Racnoss were stranded."

As she goes to interrupt, a robot lunges from behind, grabbing Donna, covering her mouth. The Alchemist whirls to intervene, but before she can react, a needle pierces her skin. The toxin floods her veins, and she collapses, limp.

Unaware, the Doctor continues, "They've been in hibernation for billions of years—frozen, dead, kaput. So you're the new key. Brand new particles, living particles! They need you to open it… and neither of you has ever been this quiet."

Something is wrong.

He pulls off the stethoscope, turning—only to find Donna gone.

His hearts lurch as his eyes land on the crumpled figure of his Bondmate.

"Alchemist!" he shouts, dropping to his knees beside her; He shakes her gently, panic creeping into his voice, "Alchemist, wake up, please, please!"

She stirs, her voice weak but steady. "They got Donna."

Relief floods him as he helps her sit up. She blinks rapidly, shaking off the dizziness as her body fights the poison. Then, with a deep breath, she pulls the energy of the Vortex through her, forcing the last of the toxin away. Her expression hardens in frustration as she jumps to her feet.

She whips out her sonic, unlocking the door with a sharp buzz. It slides open, revealing a robot standing guard, weapon raised. In a fluid motion, she disables it—then pivots just in time to disarm another rushing to assist.

"Ally…" the Doctor murmurs, wary.

She shakes her head sharply, "They injected me with Strychnine—I should be dead. I'm not going to have you complain about me disarming robots right now."

He swallows, nodding. There's no time for arguments.

"Let's get dressed, then."

Quickly, they strip the fallen guards of their masks and robes, disguising themselves. As the Alchemist secures the remote, the Doctor, unseen by her, palms a handful of the ornamental bombs and slips them into his pocket.

[Drilling site]

"Harvest the humans! Reduce them to meat," the Racnoss calls out, "My children are climbing towards me and none shall stop them."

Two robots climb the stairs that run along the side of the chamber.

The Empress turns to them, "So you might as well unmask, my clever little doctor man and his alchemist lady."

The Robots remove their masks and throw off their cloaks revealing the Alchemist and the Doctor.

"Oh well. Nice try," he shrugs before calling out, "I've got you, Donna!"

He aims his sonic screwdriver at Donna, flicking it on, and the web starts to loosen around her.

She shouts, "I'm going to fall!"

"You're going to swing!" the Alchemist calls out.

The Doctor holds his arms open, "I've got you this time!"

The Alchemist winces, realizing the length of the web is far too long.

Screaming, Donna swings across the hole, past the Empress, and hits right underneath where the Doctor is standing, she drops to the ground below them.

"Oh… sorry," he says as the couple looks over the railing to Donna flat on the ground below them.

"Thanks for nothing," she snaps.

"The doctor man and his alchemist mate amuse me."

"Empress of the Racnoss," the Doctor calls out, his voice firm, "I give you one last chance. We can find you a planet. We can find you and your children a place in the universe to co-exist. Take that offer and end this now."

The Empress lets out a hissing laugh, "These men are so funny."

"You've killed too many, Empress. Time has come for its price, and you must pay it," the Alchemist says sharply, her voice laced with cold fury.

The Doctor's expression hardens, "What's your answer?"

The Racnoss laughs again, unfazed, "Oh, I'm afraid I have to decline."

His jaw tightens, "What happens next is your own doing."

"I'll show you what happens next!" she shrieks, "At arms!"

The robots snap to attention, weapons rising.

"Take aim!"

The barrels align with precision.

"And…!"

"...Relax," the Time Lady smirks.

Instantly, the robots' arms drop, their bodies slumping forward.

"What did you do?" Donna asks, eyes darting between them and the Alchemist.

"Guess what I've got, Donna?" the Time Lady grins, holding up the remote, "Pockets."

Donna gapes at the size of the device, "How did that fit in there? That thing is bigger than your little dress!"

The Alchemist shrugs, "They're bigger on the inside."

The Doctor takes the remote from her hand, his attention shifting back to the Empress.

"Roboforms are unnecessary," the Empress hisses, "My children may feast on Martian flesh!"

The Time Lady's expression darkens, "Oh, but we're not from Mars."

"Then where?" the Empress demands.

The Doctor's voice drops to a near whisper, "Our home planet is far away… and long since gone. But its name lives on."

"Gallifrey," they say in unison, the word heavy with meaning.

The Empress recoils, rage and fear flashing in her many eyes, "They murdered the Racnoss!"

"And who led them, Empress?" the Alchemist asks, stepping forward.

Recognition dawns on the Empress's face, twisting into horror, "You! You look like her!"

The Time Lady's eyes narrow. A theory she had long suspected stirs in her mind before she pushes it away.

"I warned you," the Doctor says grimly, "You did this."

With that, he reaches into his pockets and pulls out the ornaments.

The Empress screams, "No! No! Don't! No!"

The Alchemist watches, confusion flickering across her face—until her eyes widen in realization.

The Doctor tosses the baubles into the air, pressing the remote. Explosions erupt, shattering the corridor wall. Water roars into the space, crashing through the opening. More of the baubles detonate around the Empress, sending fires licking up the walls. Down below, the awakened Racnoss children wail, their cries piercing and unearthly.

The Alchemist gasps in horror.

"No! No! My children! No! My children! My children!" the Empress shrieks.

The Time Lady exhales sharply, grounding herself in old memories—memories of the tears she shed before the war, the grief that had kept her alive.

She raises her hand, pulling on the power of the Vortex. The fabric of reality ripples as she reaches back, seizing the Racnoss children from existence, before they ever were. She channels their innocence, the weight of Lance's murderous intent, and the last reserves of her strength from the battle at Canary Wharf.

"Doctor!" the Time Lady hisses, turning to him urgently.

He glares into the hole, pulled back into the Time War, remembering the wailing every time he received a missive about the children—thinking them dead and gone. Every scream, every cry from his fellow soldiers, every battle fire that forced his people to Regenerate just from the burns alone.

"Doctor!" Donna shouts, "You can stop now!"

He blinks rapidly, shaking off the past.

The Alchemist steps forward and grips his shoulder, forcing him to turn toward her.

"My children! They're gone!" the Empress wails, her voice cracking with despair.

The Doctor swallows hard, meeting his Bondmate's cold gaze. He hadn't realized how deeply he'd fallen into his own mind.

He takes her hand tightly and nods, "Come on. Time we got out."

Soaking wet, the Doctor and the Alchemist race down the stairs. Donna meets them halfway, breathless, before they all sprint through the corridors toward the barrier door.

"Transport me!" the Empress howls; a flash of blue light engulfs her, and she vanishes.

The Time Lords and Donna keep running, urgency pushing them forward. The Alchemist reaches the bulkhead first, spinning it open and hauling herself up. Donna scrambles after her, followed closely by the Doctor.

"But what about the Empress?" Donna calls up as they climb.

"She's used up all her Huon energy," the Doctor replies, "She's defenseless!"

"Normally UNIT takes care of this stuff," the Alchemist calls down.

Donna frowns, "What?"

"Friends of ours," she replies.

[Thames Barrier]

The Time Lords and Donna stand at Gate Eight, watching as the Racnoss ship breaks apart in the sky. The wreckage crumbles, consumed by fire, and with it, the Empress is destroyed.

Donna, still catching her breath, smirks, "Just... there's one problem."

The Doctor turns to her, brow raised, "What's that?"

She grins, "We've drained the Thames."

For a moment, there's silence—then Donna and the Doctor burst into laughter, their giddy exhaustion spilling over.

The Alchemist, however, does not laugh. She remains still, eyes fluttering closed as the echoes of screams fill her mind—not the cries of the Racnoss, but another, more familiar voice.

Susan's scream.

A chill runs through her.

'Other half now knows,' Teacher murmurs in her thoughts.

She nods faintly in agreement.

'It's time.'

'That we are,' the Vortex replies, its presence wrapping around her mind like a familiar tide.

She exhales sharply, letting out a small, knowing laugh.

[TARDIS Console Room]

Across the room, Donna sits beside the Alchemist on the Jumpseat, murmuring softly as they chat. The Time Lady listens intently, an easy smile tugging at her lips.

'Well?' she prompts.

The Doctor doesn't look up from the screen as he responds.

'She's a good person; 34 years old, graduated with a few GCSEs, didn't go on to further education, and could only get temp jobs after she was fired a few years back at a law office. Only child; mother, father, grandfather fought in WWII. Lots of cousins and aunts and uncles though. Pretty funny dating history but nothing bad. She cares, you can tell.' he responds.

The Alchemist smiles at Donna as they continue to converse.

'Let's ask her,' she responds and he smiles at the console, nodding, as he brings them out of the Vortex and rematerializes across the street from her home in Chiswick, London, England, Earth, the Solar System.

[Outside the Nobles' home]

The TARDIS stands across the street from the Noble home, its familiar blue exterior glowing softly under the streetlights. The trio step outside, the crisp night air wrapping around them.

"There we go," the Doctor says with a smile, patting the ship affectionately, "Told you she'd be all right. She can survive anything."

"More than I've done," Donna mutters, shrugging.

The Alchemist quietly lifts her sonic, scanning Donna from head to toe before nodding. She turns the results toward the Doctor, who grins at the display.

"All the Huon particles have gone," the Alchemist tells her, "No damage—you're more than fine."

"Yeah, but apart from that… I missed my wedding, lost my job, and became a widow on the same day… Sort of."

The Alchemist's smile fades, "We couldn't save him, Donna," she says gently, her voice carrying a hint of regret.

"He deserved it," Donna replies coldly. But when she looks up and meets their kind, knowing eyes, her expression shifts. Her shoulders drop, and she exhales slowly. "No, he didn't."

Her gaze flicks toward the house, the warm glow of Christmas lights spilling through the windows, "I'd better get inside. They'll be worried."

"Best Christmas present they could have," the Doctor says softly, watching through the glass as Donna's father and mother embrace.

The Alchemist's keen eyes catch the lingering concern on their faces, the way Donna's mother clutches her husband just a little tighter than casual; she's worried.

"Oh no," the Doctor suddenly realizes, turning back to Donna, "I forgot—you hate Christmas."

Donna rolls her eyes, nodding, "Yes, I do."

He smirks, "Even if it snows?"

Reaching up, he flicks a hidden switch above the TARDIS door. The ship's lantern glows amber for a brief moment before sending a pulse of golden energy into the sky. It explodes like a firework, shimmering before it dissolves into soft, swirling snowflakes.

Donna gasps, then bursts into laughter, "I can't believe you did that!"

The Alchemist crosses her arms, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile, "I installed it for Bondmas years ago."

"Bondmas?" Donna asks, raising an eyebrow.

They nod in unison, and the Alchemist explains, "It's not today for us—time travel and all—but we married on Christmas. It's technically the day we met."

Donna's grin brightens at that.

"Love this gift. It's basic atmospheric excitation," the Doctor adds.

Donna chuckles, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," the Alchemist echoes warmly.

The Doctor nods, "And you."

The Time Lady watches her thoughtfully. "So, what will you do with yourself now?"

Donna exhales, letting the question settle before letting out a soft laugh, "Not getting married, for starters. And I'm not going to temp anymore. I don't know. Travel. See a bit more of planet Earth. Walk in the dust. Just go out there and… do something."

The Doctor glances at the Alchemist, then at the TARDIS, "Well, you could always…"

Donna looks up at them expectantly, "What?"

He shrugs, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist, "Come with us."

Donna smiles softly, "No."

"Okay," The Doctor nods, disappointment flickering across his face.

'Sorry, Amara,' he says, truly meaning it, but she doesn't reply.

"I can't," Donna adds quietly.

"No, that's fine," the Doctor says, attempting to brush it off, but his tone betrays his regret.

Donna sighs, "No, but really… Everything we did today… Do you live your lives like that?"

"…Not all the time," the Doctor replies, though even he knows it's a half-truth.

Donna studies him, then the Alchemist, her expression shifting to something deeper, more thoughtful, "I think you do. And I couldn't."

Her gaze lingers on the Time Lady.

"But you've seen it out there…" the Doctor presses, trying one last time, "It's beautiful."

Donna shakes her head, "And it's terrible. That place was flooding and burning, and they were dying…" her voice tightens, "And you were stood there like, I don't know, a stranger."

The Doctor swallows, but she isn't finished.

She glances warily at the Alchemist, "And you didn't listen to your wife. And she did something—I don't know what—but she did something to stop it all."

She exhales sharply, "And then you made it snow."

Donna shakes her head, almost in disbelief, "I mean, you scare me to death."

"Right," the Doctor says quietly, casting a quick glance at the Alchemist.

'Amara, what did…' he starts to ask, but she cuts him off.

'Later pile. Immediate later pile.'

"Tell you what I will do, though." Donna forces a smile, "Christmas dinner! …Oh, come on."

The Alchemist shakes her head, "We don't do that sort of thing."

"You did it last year. You said so."

Both Time Lords fall silent. They remember that dinner. The fight. The way Rose had treated the Alchemist.

"...And you might as well," Donna continues, "because Mum always cooks enough for twenty."

The Doctor glances back at the TARDIS, his grip tightening around the Alchemist.

He sighs, "Oh, all right then. But you go first. Better warn them. And don't say we're Martian," he glances at the ship once more, "We just have to park her properly. She might drift off to the Middle Ages… again."

"Your fault, Mr. Manual-less," the Alchemist quips, but there's a sadness in her eyes.

"We'll see you in a minute," the Doctor says, and with that, they step inside the TARDIS, closing the doors behind them.

[TARDIS Console Room]

"I really hoped…" the Doctor trails off as he starts up the helmic regulator.

The Alchemist nods, voice tinged with quiet disappointment. "I know. Me too."

The familiar wheezing fills the air—until a voice calls out from outside.

"Ally! Doctor!"

They freeze. Then, frowning, the Doctor throws the brake, halting the engines.

[Outside the Nobles' home]

The Time Lords poke their heads out of the door.

The Doctor eyes Donna, "Blimey, you can shout."

She grins, "Am I ever going to see you again?"

The Alchemist smiles, "If we're lucky."

Donna hesitates before speaking again, "Just… promise me one thing. Find someone."

The Doctor shakes his head, "We don't need anyone."

"Yes, you do," Donna insists, "Because sometimes, I think you need someone to stop you… and Ally… she's not able to do that right now."

The Doctor swallows, a shadow crossing his face, "Yeah," he says finally, "Thanks, Donna. Good luck. And…"

He hesitates, searching for the right words.

'Magnificent,' the Alchemist whispers silently to him.

A smile tugs at his lips, "Just be… magnificent."

"Not that you need to try; I can tell you already are," the Alchemist adds with a wink.

She disappears into the TARDIS to plot their course into the Vortex.

"I think I will, yeah," Donna laughs.

The Doctor turns to close the doors.

"Doctor?"

He sticks his head back out, feigning exasperation, "Oh, what is it now?"

"That ex-friend of yours… What was her name?"

His smile fades. He looks down before meeting her gaze.

"Her name was Rose," he says evenly, "And I hope she never comes back."

Donna nods, "Me too. Because whatever she did… she hurt Ally really badly."

The Doctor doesn't reply. He simply nods and closes the doors.

The TARDIS groans and begins to dematerialize, shooting up into the sky, leaving behind only the quiet snowfall.

Donna watches them disappear with a soft, wistful smile before turning and stepping inside her home.

[TARDIS Console Roome]

The moment the TARDIS stabilizes in the Vortex, the Alchemist exhales sharply and turns away, her gaze locking onto the corridor leading deeper into the ship.

"Amara, about what Donna said..." the Doctor begins cautiously.

She whirls on him, eyes blazing, "Which time? Huh? When she pointed out how much I'm hurting? That I can't stop you from slaughtering innocents right now? Or that I did something to the Racnoss children?"

Her steps are swift and purposeful as she closes the distance between them, grabbing his lapels in a tight grip.

Her voice is low, seething, "They were babies, Theta! They were just hungry, surviving the only way they knew how. And I erased them from existence. I saved you from yourself, you idiot," her fingers tighten, her fury a barely contained storm, "You made your own plan without me. You didn't even tell me you were taking those damn bombs! Do you have any idea what could have happened? You used them to open the Thames Flood Barrier—we could have drowned! We could have died! And you were going to kill them!"

Her grip falters, and she steps back, her breathing ragged.

The Doctor swallows hard, guilt written across his face.

"Why didn't I know?" she demands, her voice breaking at the edges, "Why couldn't I tell you had other plans?"

His gaze drops, shame flooding through him.

The Alchemist clenches her jaw, her anger laced with something deeper—betrayal, "Unblock the empathic bond. Fully. Now."

He hesitates for only a second before nodding and allowing the connection to open completely. The moment it does, her shoulders slump, the overwhelming weight of his self-loathing, guilt, and barely-restrained sorrow and fury crashing into her.

She exhales slowly, some of her own anger ebbing away in the face of his raw regret. Without another word, she reaches for his hand, her grip firm but not unkind, and leads him down the corridors toward the library.

[TARDIS Library]

"Lay down, Theta," she says softly.

He obeys without hesitation, even going so far as to slip off his shoes before settling onto the couch.

The Alchemist moves to the fireplace, snapping her fingers to ignite the flames. The warm glow flickers across the room as she sits before it, taking a steadying breath, bracing herself for what's to come.

From his place on the couch, the Doctor watches her warily, "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to show you why what you did was wrong," she says, her voice quiet but firm, "The one thing I swore I never would. The one nightmare that haunts me in my dreams—overlapping when we dreamshare—that lingers in my waking hours. The one thing I will never let myself forget."

She finally rises, crossing the room with deliberate steps until she stands over him.

The Doctor swallows hard, his throat dry. He closes his eyes in silent preparation, his body tense, bracing himself for what she's about to reveal.

The Alchemist sighs heavily, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. Then, standing above him, she opens the triple-bolted door in her mind—and pulls him inside.

[Memory: Recording on Gallifrey]

Their children stand in a row, bound to the wall by heavy cuffs, their arms and legs stretched and secured above and below them. The cold restraints dig into their bruised and battered skin.

Semine, Jessamy, Niam, and Susan are streaked with tears, their faces marred with cuts and bruises. Susan, the youngest among them, is trembling in obvious panic, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. Jessamy and Niam whisper to her, their voices steady despite their fear, grounding her with the only comfort they can offer.

"We're all here for you. You're not alone in this," they murmur again and again.

Semine squeezes her eyes shut, taking in a shuddering breath before reopening them, forcing herself to stay strong.

Loki and Nightingale glare fiercely at someone in the distance, their expressions burning with defiance. Even now, they refuse to break. Nightingale's face is bloodied and bruised, one eye nearly swollen shut, her split lip a stark contrast against her pale skin. Loki's forehead drips with blood from a deep gash, the red mixing with her brown iris, clouding her vision.

But it's Titan—their son—who stops the Doctor cold.

Those ocean-and-gold eyes bore into him, pinning him in place. And suddenly, it's no longer just a memory. The weight of the moment crushes him, making it feel real—like he is actually there. Titan's face is a ruin of agony, the entire right side burned so severely it's clear he had been held down, forced to endure it.

"Remember," Titan says, his voice unshaken, commanding.

Then, the Doctor sees it—the glint of silver at the edge of his vision. Slowly, deliberately, it emerges into full view.

Rassilon's gauntlet.

The fingers flex, power crackling at the tips, blue energy gathering and swirling before it surges forward—striking all of their children at once. Their bodies convulse violently.

"Remember!" Titan calls out again, his voice rising.

Their skin darkens beneath the surface, veins burning with unnatural energy. The glow intensifies, growing brighter, brighter…

"Remember!" their son shouts, louder this time.

A scream.

A sound so raw, so gut-wrenching, it shreds through the Doctor's soul.

It is a scream he has heard before—when the Alchemist had first Regenerated. When their daughters had. A scream of unbearable pain.

Susan.

Her small body bows backward, consumed by agony.

And then—laughter.

Low. Cruel.

Rassilon's guttural, malicious laughter reverberates through the space, curling around Susan's screams, suffocating everything else.

Golden Regeneration energy erupts from their children, engulfing them, blinding him even within the confines of his mind.

[TARDIS Library]

"Shh, shh, love," the Alchemist whispers as he comes to; her voice is gentle, steady, "You're not alone for this, remember?"

But the moment consciousness fully grips him and he hears those words repeated from her lips, the Doctor lurches off the sofa. His stomach heaves, and he barely makes it to the bin beside it—the one usually reserved for the Alchemist's notes—before vomiting violently.

This is what she has carried. What she has remembered. For 232 years, this agony had been her constant companion.

Another wave of nausea overtakes him, and he retches again and again until there's nothing left but bile, his entire body trembling from the force of it. Through it all, his Bondmate kneels beside him, a steady presence, rubbing slow circles into his back.

"I know," she whispers, her voice filled with understanding, with sorrow, "I know."

He wipes his mouth against the back of his sleeve, uncaring of the mess, and then collapses onto the floor. The sobs come hard and fast, wracking his frame, an unbearable weight crushing down on him. It feels as though his hearts have been ripped out, shredded, and then shoved back into his chest, only to be torn away again. His gut twists, clenching painfully.

Too much. Too much.

Blindly, he reaches out, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto. And she is there. She takes his hands without hesitation, allowing him to pull her into his lap. He buries his face against her as they rock together, back and forth, a desperate attempt to find far-reaching calm.