Chapter Thirty-Three: Blink
[Cellar]
The TARDIS sits in the center of the dingy cellar, surrounded on three sides by the trio of Weeping Angels as Sally Sparrow rushes down the steps.
"Okay, boys," Sally breathes, "I know how this works. You can't move so long as I can see you. Whole world in the box, they said. Hope they're not lying, because I don't see how else we're getting out."
Larry runs in, panting, past her, and the Angel after them from upstairs is now also in the cellar pointing towards the ceiling.
"Why's it pointing at the light?" Larry asks, panicked.
Back to back, they head to the TARDIS, watching the now flickering light bulb.
"Oh, my God," Sally gasps, trying to get into the ship as the flickering increases, "It's turning out the lights."
"Quickly!" Larry cries.
"I can't find the lock!"
Larry looks around, frightened, "Sally, hurry up! Get it open! They're getting closer. Sally, come on!"
The Weeping Angels, snarling, are drawing near in the flickering light.
"It won't turn!"
"Sally!"
She manages to get the key to turn, and they sprint inside the TARDIS, slamming the door shut behind them.
[TARDIS]
A holographic projection of two figures appears on the gantry.
"This is security protocol seven one two," the hologram Doctor states, "This time capsule has detected the presence of an authorized control disc, valid one journey."
Larry frowns and reaches into his pocket to take out a DVD case; he opens it, and the disc glows.
The Alchemist hologram continues, "Please insert the disc and prepare for departure."
Sally looks around the console before spotting it, "Looks like a DVD player. There's a slot."
The TARDIS begins to jolt to and fro as the Angels attack it.
"They're trying to get in!" Larry cries.
"Well, hurry up then!" she shouts back as he fumbles, trying to get the DVD into the slot on the console.
He manages to insert it, and the time rotor starts up, causing the ship to begin to dematerialize around them.
Larry looks around in alarm, "What's happening!?"
"Oh, my God," Sally realizes, "It's leaving us behind. Doctor, Alchemist, no! You can't!"
As the walls vanish, the duo can make out the Angels encircling the TARDIS, their arms and mouths wide open, not blocking their vision.
"Alchemist, please don't! Doctor!" she cries in terror as they crouch low on the floor, leaning against each other and looking around, "Look at them! Quick, look at them!"
Larry and Sally stand, turning and looking around at the encircling group of Weeping Angels when he begins to gape, "I don't think we need to. They tricked them, The Alchemist and the Doctor tricked them! They're looking at each other. They're never going to move again!"
The pair begin laughing and wrap their arms around each other in a tight, relieved, hug.
[DVD store]
Sally sits at the counter, looking over the purple file in front of her a year later.
"Can you mind the shop?" Larry asks as he steps out of the back room, "I'm just nipping next door for some milk."
She waves him off, "Yeah. No worries."
"What's this?" Larry asks, spotting the folder.
"Nothing!" Sally replies, trying to close the folder back over.
"Sally!" he admonishes, "Can't you let it go?"
"Of course, I can't let it go!"
"This is over."
"How did they know where to write the words on the wall?" she shakes her head, "How could they get a copy of the transcript? Where did they get all that information from?"
Larry rubs his neck, "Look, some things you never find out. And that's okay."
"No, it isn't!"
He sighs, shuffling his feet, "Ever think this might be getting in the way of... other things?"
Sally frowns, "We just run a shop together," she quietly reminds him, "That's all it is, just a shop."
He looks away sadly, taking a deep breath, "Anyway, milk... Back in a mo'."
Sally watches as he walks out of the shop, her eyes widening as a taxi pulls up outside and Martha, the Alchemist, and the Doctor get out with bows and quivers filled with arrows on their backs right outside the door of her shop. They begin to run down the street and she rushes outside.
[Outside the DVD store]
"Doctor!" Sally cries, sprinting toward them, "Alchemist! Alchemist! Doctor!"
"Hello," the Doctor greets, skidding to a stop, practically bouncing on the spot, "Sorry, bit of a rush. There's a sort of thing happening. Fairly important we stop it."
"Very important we stop it, actually, so we really can't... stop," the Alchemist calls back, already a few paces ahead.
"My God, it's you," Sally breathes, staring at them in awe, "It really is you. Oh, you don't remember me, do you?"
Martha exhales sharply, adjusting the quiver on her back, "We haven't time for this. The migration's started."
"We've got twenty-two minutes, love. We need to go," the Time Lady replies with a brisk nod.
The Doctor gives her a quick nod, then turns back to Sally, "Look, sorry, I've got a bit of a complex life. Things don't always happen to me in quite the right order. Gets a bit confusing at times, especially at weddings. ...I'm rubbish at weddings. Especially my own."
"Not untrue. He was late," the Alchemist mutters, lips tight.
Her mother had been furious—she tried to hit him after the ceremony. The Alchemist stepped in before the blow landed. That was the last time they spoke until she discovered she was pregnant. After that meeting, they never saw each other again.
"I was getting you the sapling!" the Doctor protests.
"Oh my God, of course," Sally gasps, "You're time travelers. It hasn't happened to you yet. None of it. It's still in your future!"
He tilts his head, intrigued, "What hasn't happened?"
"Doctor, please," Martha urges, eyes on her watch, "Twenty minutes to red hatching."
"Right, yes, go..." the Alchemist echoes, distracted, "Must... go..." her eyes lock onto Sally's, "What hasn't happened?"
"Ally!" Martha admonishes, "Not you too!"
"It was me," Sally shakes her head, "Oh, for God's sake, it was me all along! You got it all from me."
"Got what?" the Time Lady asks, brow arching.
"Okay, listen," Sally steps closer, "One day you're going to get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you," she hands the purple file to the Doctor, "You're going to need it."
"Doctor! Ally!" Martha calls from ahead.
"Yeah, listen, listen, got to dash. Things... happening," the Doctor mutters, "Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard."
Sally smiles softly, "Okay, no worries. On you go. See you around someday."
"What was your name?" the Doctor asks.
"Sally Sparrow."
He grins, "Good to meet you, Sally Sparrow."
"It means Princess," the Alchemist adds with a nod, "Princess Sparrow—I like that... Oh, and look!" she beams, pointing across the street, "That shop has our daughter's name on it! Hah!"
Larry walks up with a bottle of milk in hand, eyes wide in disbelief at the trio before him—familiar from the recordings he'd watched so many times.
Still smiling, Sally returns to him and gently takes his hand, "Goodbye, Alchemist, Doctor, Martha."
The Doctor and the Alchemist share a warm smile as the couple turns and walks back toward the shop—Sparrow and Nightingale: Antiquarian Books and Rare DVDs.
"Hurry up, you two!" Martha shouts, already running.
They take off after her, hand in hand.
[TARDIS Library]
The Time Lords have spread the contents of the file across the coffee table, reviewing every detail with focus.
There are handwritten notes, typed pages, a transcript, photographs, and a scatter of post-its—those, in particular, have the Alchemist's attention.
"I don't... ugh. Martha gets a job to support us. Why's that? I already have money. I already have a job. Why can't I use my current money? Why can't I just get a job?"
He shrugs, "Guess not this time around."
She pouts, "And we can't even change it, because Martha said that... it's now a pre-established set of events. Along with this ridiculous line of yours."
"We need to maintain the timeline... whenever this happens," the Doctor says, shrugging again, "So... what do we do while she's out working?"
"For one, you are not inventing things before their time again. Banana daiquiri ring a bell?"
"...Vaguely. Doesn't say how long we're stuck there. Just when we make the recording."
"This wouldn't matter much if I could just time jump," she mutters.
The Doctor sighs and turns toward her, "Amara, you'll have your abilities back soon. And to top it off with a massive cherry, we'll have our family."
"Yeah, that's... that's worth everything. Honestly, that's the whole sundae."
"It is, isn't it?" he grins, "Now—who the hell only has seventeen DVDs?"
"I know, right? But I guess it'll be fun tricking the angels. Which one do they use in the end?" she picks up a post-it, "'Angel Smile.' Now that's funny," she chuckles, and the Doctor starts laughing with her.
They begin packing up the folder, the Doctor not noticing as the Alchemist discreetly picks up the photo of the Angel and quietly destroys it before he tucks the file into his enlarged coat pocket for later.
[Wardrobe]
The Alchemist has to admit, the idea of seeing her husband stuck in one place—especially stuck on Earth—does sound kind of... interesting.
With a trans-dimensional mini-suitcase in hand, she begins packing for herself and Martha. They can't exactly tell their companion this is going to happen. Martha would ask questions—and she wouldn't be happy about what a Weeping Angel is or does. Honestly, the Time Lady isn't thrilled about the situation either.
She's already tasked her husband with laying out two weeks' worth of suits for her to pack. They'll just dry-clean them once they're there. As for herself, she's decided to change things up—opting for mini-dresses in different styles and a variety of colored pumps from the 1960s section of the wardrobe.
For Martha, she hopes that not having to shop will at least soften the blow of the forced trip. Their companion, she's learned, hates shopping. She adores the wardrobe's organized chaos—but absolutely loathes boutiques and the like.
She also decides to pack her sewing machine. All the pieces for Jack's meeting quilt are already cut; now she just needs to pin and stitch it together. However long they end up stuck there... she has a feeling she'll have the time to finish it.
[Two months later: Martha's Room]
"Martha!" the Alchemist calls, knocking three times.
Martha smiles, pops her head out, then opens the door fully and beckons the Time Lady inside.
"Where are we off to today?" she asks excitedly, bouncing onto the bed.
"Cinethon! I booked the Grand Pagoda! Oh, it's lovely. The Universal Film Festival is on—best-rated movies of all time, all in one place! The theater's ours for the day, and they'll deliver lunch, dinner, breakfast, snacks, whatever we want!"
Martha laughs, amused at how delighted the Time Lady sounds, then nods. "Sounds amazing! I'll get ready, then. Are we doing breakfast there too?"
"Yep, that's the plan! They have these doughnuts called zonatsu—they're orange but taste like strawberry, kiwi, and white chocolate!" the Alchemist calls over her shoulder as she heads out.
"Mmm, that sounds so good right now," Martha hums, shutting the door.
After the incident with the Family of Blood, the Alchemist had sat her down and shared some of what happened during the war. Martha had tried not to cry—but she failed.
She remembers the Time Lady's sigh as she pulled her into an embrace, gently rocking her to calm her down. Martha never would've guessed someone so kind had endured so much. But it explained everything—the anxiety, the moments of hesitation, the depression, the way she always knew when something was about to happen. It especially explained her reaction when the Doctor jumped in front of the Daleks—and how she stopped the witch from killing Peter.
They still talk about it sometimes; some of the things she's experienced. Usually, when the Time Lady's lying across Martha's lap on the picnic blanket inside the air shell, she'll mention something terrible in passing—something unimaginable. And then the tears come, and the Doctor always rushes in to collect her.
[Wester Drumlin]
The Alchemist sighs heavily as they step out of the TARDIS. The Doctor is already a few steps ahead, frowning in confusion, while Martha trails behind, her own expression twisted with unease. They're in a basement.
"What the...?" Martha mutters. "Where are we?"
"Uh... I don't…" the Doctor starts, already heading for the stairs.
"I thought we were going to that cinema festival. What is this, the entrance to Hell?" Martha scoffs as she reaches the first floor, "There's even a creepy angel thing."
The Alchemist sees it—an Angel, right next to the doorway, its face covered—and her eyes immediately lock on the torso. But Martha is gone, vanished in the grinding hiss of stone.
"What do you mean a 'creepy angel thing?!'" the Doctor shouts, spinning around, alarm rising. Then he sees it too, "...Ally, Martha's gone."
"Yeah, I realize that," she mutters, "Do you have the folder?"
"Yep, yep, got the folder. Do you have the suitcase?"
"Uh-huh. Ready?"
"No."
"Count of three, then..."
"Three..." the Doctor begins.
"Two..." the Alchemist follows.
"One..." they say together.
The Time Lords close their eyes, and the Alchemist grimaces at the harsh grind of stone. The Weeping Angel drops its hands, snarls, and in a flash, takes them.
[Alleyway - London]
They hit the ground with twin groans, cobblestones jarring against their backs. Across from them, Martha sits up slowly, still rubbing her head.
"What the hell just happened?" she mutters, "All I remember is looking at that creepy statue and then I'm on the ground in a gross alleyway."
"We died," the Alchemist deadpans.
Martha jolts upright, then immediately winces, clutching her side, "What do you mean we died?"
"She means just that, Martha—we died," the Doctor replies, "That was called a Weeping Angel. Ally, are we in 1969?"
"Yeah," she replies, "April Fifteenth."
"Okay, and... dying? Explain," Martha demands.
The Alchemist exhales sharply, "They're called Weeping Angels. They feed off the time they steal from people's lives. They don't kill you the usual way—they just send you back to the past... that's the gentle way of putting it."
"But we're alive now, right?"
The Doctor nods, wincing slightly, "Yeah, we're alive. And we can go back at that."
"Great. Where's the TARDIS, then? We'll just go from here to the cinema planet," Martha says with false optimism.
The Time Lords share a grimace. She catches it instantly.
"Guys... where the hell is the TARDIS?"
[Apartment - Time Lord Bedroom]
The Alchemist packed just enough money to get them a fully furnished, two-bedroom apartment on a six-month lease—with a week's worth of groceries. It frustrates her to no end that they couldn't find something month-to-month or cheaper, but it explains Martha's earlier comment about needing to support them.
They let Martha choose her room first. She picks the one with the queen mattress and the "more space and better view," leaving the Time Lords with the double. They don't mind. They hardly sleep—and when they do, they prefer to cuddle anyway.
As the Alchemist unpacks, she groans.
"What is it?" the Doctor calls from the closet, where he's hanging up his suits.
"I forgot to pack my tights and thigh-highs. Two weeks' worth of mini-dresses and no tights."
He spins to face her, grinning wickedly.
"I'm not seeing a problem with that at all."
"Did you forget that I actually need to run errands?" she grumbles.
He frowns, "Yes. Yes, I did. Buy some tights."
She tilts her head, considering, "No."
"What?"
"I said no."
"What? Why!?"
The Alchemist crosses the room, hands on her hips, "Because, dear Bondmate, I'm going to use this time to run an experiment."
"What!?" he gapes.
She laughs, "We're going to see how long you spend looking at my legs every day."
"I don't..." the Doctor starts to deny.
"You do. I've just never calculated it. I'll start now."
Boots already off, she unclips and slowly slides the gray thigh-highs down her legs, one at a time, hips swaying as she does. She watches his eyes track every motion, his mouth dropping in awe and amusement.
Twisting the stockings together, she flings them over his head, then tugs him in for a kiss—nipping his lip—before striding out of the room with a satisfied smirk.
"...Tease," he finally groans, collapsing backward onto the bed.
She laughs from the living room. Being best friends with a burlesque dancer has its perks, after all.
[April 21st, 1969 - Street outside Apartment Building]
"What's that awful smell?" the Alchemist grumbles as she and Martha approach their building.
Martha stops short, looking across the street where the old woman with the chicken coop lives.
"I think it's that," she replies and gestures towards it.
The Doctor is standing on the sidewalk, holding a device, and being screamed at by the old woman who lives in the house there.
The Alchemist groans in annoyance before striding across the quiet lane.
"What did he do, Mrs Bauer?"
"This... this monster exploded my chickens!"
"How?" she asks flatly.
"With that, that thing in his hand! He was walking by and it was blinking and making a racket; I just heard cries from my babies and they were gone!" she yells, hysterical.
The Alchemist grabs the device and looks it over with her hand preceptors, she's not wrong. The frequency is way off.
"It, it, it... wasn't me!" he defends, "It must have been the food!"
Sighing, she turns from her Bondmate to the hobbyist farmer, "I'm honestly with my husband on this one, Mrs Bauer. Did you change the feed, or could anyone have gotten in and... poisoned them?"
She begins to calm down, frowning, "I... no. But if it was poison in the food, that's horrible! Who would do such a thing!?"
"Someone who clearly is an idiot," the Alchemist responds sagely before grabbing her husband's arm and dragging him toward the apartment building
She knew it was a bad idea to let him build the detector. The Time Lady did remind him that she can sense time dilation disruptions, but oh no. He just had to build a device to 'ding' and use their microwave, two lightbulbs, and a radio. All of which Martha has to pay now to replace to do so.
They thought it would be safe to go to the grocery shop for some veg and more milk, but apparently not. Nothing is safe when the Doctor is stuck in one place and bored.
"Did it go 'ding?'" Martha sarcastically asks as they enter the building.
"Yes, yes, yes it did! I had to check!" the Doctor rambles, "But it was the chickens and then they..."
"Don't. Say. It," the Alchemist growls and stomps up the stairs toward their flat.
[April 27th, 1969 - Living Room]
Martha walks out of her bedroom tiredly before stopping short.
"Are... are you making a quilt?"
The Alchemist looks up, "Oh, yeah. I'm, uh, I'm making a meeting quilt. I usually finish for the night before you wake up."
"No worries," she yawns, "'Meeting quilt,' what's that, then?"
"It's... It's something I did for family members of Akmespiritus," she explains, somewhat shyly, "I made them for all of our children as well as our Chosen family members."
"Chosen family members? Like, friends that you consider family?"
"Sort of I suppose, but... we had a ceremonial way to invite them into our family on Gallifrey. That's what I'm working on now."
"That's really sweet, oh my God," Martha gapes, blinking fully awake, "Who's this one for?"
The Time Lady smirks, "The Face of Boe."
"Not to be... um, rude, but, how's he going to use it when you see him in his past?" she asks.
"Well, uh, the Doctor's Chosen sister has hers framed on a wall," the Alchemist shrugs, "Does that count?"
"Yeah, that counts and is a really nice idea actually. Wish I thought of that."
"What do you mean?" the Time Lady frowns.
"My nan made me a quilt for when I was born. It tore in the dryer, though, and I had to toss it. Did it the same day, honestly. I loved it so much I cried when it happened."
"When was this?" she asks curiously.
When they get back, she and the Doctor could dumpster dive and find it for her to repair.
"Oh, uh... I remember it well, actually. It was the day after my birthday, four... well... in 2003." Martha recalls.
"September 15th," she nods.
This gives Martha pause, "You... I never told you my birthdate. It's not even coming up."
"I know, scary, isn't it?" the Time Lady smirks.
"Yeah, just a bit, yeah."
The Alchemist is quiet for a few moments, deep in thought.
She looks up, "Hey, Martha?"
"Hm?"
"If we run into the Face of Boe again while you're with us..." she begins, "Would you mind helping us with the ceremony if he agrees? We need someone to be present to confirm that it took place, that's not of our family line."
"I... I'd be honored, Ally," Martha gapes, "Of course, I'll do that for you."
"Thank you, Martha," the Time Lady smiles softly, "Now, we're still on for painting that message after you get back from work, yeah?"
She grins, "Yeah. I got the paint and everything in my room."
[Wester Drumlin]
The Alchemist walks around the perimeter slowly, holding up the hand mirror before her as she closes in on the doorway.
She had to argue with her Bondmate about being the one to check for the Weeping Angels. She only got through to him by reminding him that she'd just ask the Time Vortex to send her back if she got caught. Teacher isn't fond of having them separated. Plus, unlike him, she's got faster reflexes, can see in the dark, and can hear them coming.
Making her way upstairs and then back down in quick, concise movements like she was forcibly taught, she makes her way into the basement and finds it empty as well.
'Clear,' she calls out, 'I'm coming back up from the cellar now, I'll meet you in the front hall.'
'Oh, thank Omega, I may be able to sense you, but I was bloody terrified,' the Doctor replies.
She laughs aloud, 'I know, I felt it.'
The Time Lord pulls his wife in for a tight hug the moment he spots her after opening the door and presses a kiss against her forehead, and then her lips.
"Alright," Martha calls out, "Enough with the PDA."
"What's PDA?" the Time Lady asks.
"...public displays of affection," she dryly answers.
"But I hug you all the time?"
"You know what?" she shakes her head, "Just... do your thing. Anyway, where's the wall? This place still gives me the creeps," their companion shudders for effect.
"Ah, I think it's over here in this room," the Alchemist replies, holding her Bondmate's hand and leading them to it.
"It must be your handwriting, then, Martha. It's not ours," the Doctor grins.
"Yeah, looks like it," Martha says, going over the photo.
The Doctor pulls out the tube of black paint and squeezes out the acrylic onto a plate they brought before handing it to her along with the brush.
"Alright," the companion calls out, "Read it out to me."
"It's all in capital letters. 'Beware,'" the Alchemist tells her, leaning against the wall, tossing about one of the rolls of wallpaper.
She begins to paint.
"Next."
"'The Weeping Angel.'"
Martha waits for the next line.
"'Oh, and Duck!'"
"Don't forget the exclamation point," the Time Lord reminds her, and she adds it.
"'No, Really, Duck!'"
"Another..." the Doctor calls out.
"Exclamation point, yeah," Martha mutters as she paints it on, "What's after that?"
"'Sally Sparrow' and underneath it 'Duck now.'"
"Then 'Love From the Doctor and the Alchemist,' with the year, yeah?" she asks.
"Yep," the Doctor nods, "That's it."
Martha groans as she looks over the paint tube, "It takes an hour to dry."
"Ah, Ally and I'll come back and put the wallpaper up tomorrow, then, let's shift."
[May 1st, 1969 - Time Lords' Bedroom - Morning]
The Alchemist sighs and tilts her head as the Doctor licks at the drying sweat on her neck.
"Mmm, that's one way to start Bondmas," she hums.
His birthday had been the day before. She'd dragged him to the grocers, then brought him home to cook dinner for all three of them. Afterward, they'd shared a banana caramel layer cake she'd baked ahead of time.
Martha had come home from work carrying three numbered candles—nine, zero, and two—declaring that Time Lord or not, they were doing birthdays the human way.
Two minutes to midnight, the pair couldn't help but grin as she sang Happy Birthday. They blew out the candles together, and she'd threatened to count unless they smeared their names into the frosting—apparently, it was for good luck.
"Mmm, I guess this counts as our gift," the Doctor laughs lowly.
The Time Lady lets out an inelegant snort, "Yeah, sure. As if you're not planning on getting me something as soon as we get back."
He pulls her closer, "I might have something in mind."
"Oh?" she asks, curious—then meets his wicked gaze, "Oh."
[May 1st, 1969 - Apartment Living Room - Afternoon]
"Ally!" Martha calls as she enters the apartment.
"Yeah? What is it?" the Time Lady answers from her spot on the green floral shag rug, carefully arranging her quilt pieces.
She'd finished pinning the sections three days ago. Now it was just a matter of sewing them together. The overlay stitching followed an organic pattern she'd designed herself.
"There's going to be a big party tonight, and I want to check it out," Martha says, stepping into the room, "Figured you two would come along—Bondmas Birthday finale and all. Also, I can't get in without an invite," she winks, "Would you mind going out and picking me up a dress? The Doctor'll need something too."
"You don't want one of mine?"
Martha shakes her head as she flops into a chair, "It's a black-and-white party. You only brought your colorful dresses—and you'll need one too."
"Ah, right," the Alchemist nods, "I'll head out in a few and pick up something for both of us, then. Might as well keep mixing it up. Would you mind watching my husband while I'm gone?"
"I don't need a sitter," the Doctor complains from the sofa, where he's sprawled out watching The Searchers on their little television.
Both women scoff.
"Until you can convince us we can leave you in the apartment alone and nothing will catch fire because you decided to 'improve' the tech," Martha says, "you're stuck with one of us."
[Dandie Fashions Boutique - Kings Road]
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the Alchemist mutters, steadying herself as she bumps into a young woman while rifling through a rack of mini-dresses near the window. The soft clink of hangers echoes faintly under the gentle hum of old speakers piping in a Stones track.
The girl waves her off with a smile, adjusting the coat slung over her arm, "Ah, no worries."
The Time Lady freezes. That voice. That explains the strange blip she felt earlier. She thought it might've been Billy Shipton, but when she checked, there was nothing. No warning from the Doctor's device, no temporal anomaly.
She was wrong. So very wrong.
"Susan?" she breathes.
"Oh, my! Grandmother!" she exclaims, practically bouncing. "I've run into another version of you!"
Before either of them can process it, the Alchemist lunges forward and pulls her into a tight, trembling hug. She clings.
'Theta, get down to the shopping district right this second—161 Kings Road. Dandie Fashions. No questions. Just do it!' she fires off silently.
'Right, right! Coming now!'
Still holding her close, the Alchemist whispers near her ear, "Am I here?"
Susan chuckles and leans back, her eyes dancing, "No, just me. I took the TARDIS for a spin. You and Grandfather are fast asleep."
The Alchemist gapes, her eyes darting to the sleek wristband on Susan's arm.
"Meaning... you're in undetectable mode and wearing the Sensory Blocker. You absolute terror," her voice softens into amused disbelief, "I forgot how wicked you are."
Susan winces playfully. "Right. Ah—has it been very long for you and Grandfather? I must have Regenerated by now, haven't I?"
The Alchemist just nods, tearful but holding it in.
Susan sighs, wistful, "Suppose I shouldn't ask what I look like now, huh?"
"Best not," the Alchemist says with a tight smile, "Would you mind waiting around for a bit? Maybe shop with me? Your... future grandfather is on his way."
Susan grins. "Oh, I'd love that. And to see another version of him? Delightful! Still love shopping, then. Good to know."
"I never don't," the Alchemist whispers with a conspiratorial smile.
Susan giggles and shuffles through the items in her arms, "In that case..." She pulls a sweater from her stack, "What do you think?"
It's pale green, with a black leather collar and sleeve cuffs. The Alchemist remembers it well. She asked Susan about it in her first life.
She bops Susan on the nose, just like she used to, "I think you buy that one."
Susan scrunches her nose, amused, "You would know."
"What don't I know, hm?"
"That I sneak out while you're sleeping to shop, clearly!"
They both laugh, the sound bright against the quiet rustle of fabric and distant street noise bleeding in from the door.
"Oh, this one's cute!" Susan exclaims, holding up a purple and black striped henley.
The Alchemist's smile fades. That shirt. She wore it the day before returning to Gallifrey—just before deciding not to stay with the human who had fallen for her. She left Earth behind to find her true Bondmate. To become a Gallifreyan ambassador.
"That one too, Susan," she says quietly.
Susan nods, inspecting it, "Not sure if this is helpful or not, but I do like it."
The Alchemist turns back to the dresses. Her breath catches. There it is—a rust-colored, long-sleeved dress, multicolored pattern on the bodice, black velvet detailing, and a quilted skirt. Susan's dress. The one she wore the day she left.
"This one, my blue-eyed raven," she says softly, "This dress is for you."
Susan gasps, eyes wide, "Alpha, yes! I adore it. It even has one of our House's colors."
The Alchemist smiles faintly. She's right. It does. The reds, the oranges, the green threading—the skirt always reminded her of the Gallifreyan sky at dusk.
"I'm going to try these on," Susan declares. "Will you wait? Tell me what you think?"
The Alchemist smiles. "I always do, littlest star."
Susan jumps up, twirls, and kisses her cheek before darting to the fitting rooms.
Swallowing hard at the familiar move, the Alchemist reaches up and touches her cheek gently before following after her at a sedated pace.
[Fitting Rooms]
She leans against the floral curtain as Susan changes, letting the moment settle. The air smells faintly of linen and wool and something floral from the boutique's display sprays.
Then, the ripple of a familiar presence.
'Where are you?'
'Fitting rooms. Back left. Floral curtains.'
Moments later, he appears, wild-haired and flushed from running.
"What's got you in such a tizzy, Ally?" he grins.
Before she can answer, Susan's voice pipes up, muffled by fabric, "Oh, Grandmother, you're right! This… this is it! I adore it!"
She peeks out and sees the Doctor. Her eyes go round.
"Grandfather?"
The Doctor stares, stunned. Then he steps forward and lifts her right off the ground, spinning her with a laugh.
"Susan! Susan!" he shouts joyfully, "Oh, it's my Susan!"
The Alchemist watches, eyes shining. This is why Bluette sent them to Wester Drumlins. Why their ship let herself be caught. A Bondmas gift.
He sets her down, still beaming, "How are you here?"
"I borrowed the TARDIS," she says with a wink.
"Must run in the family."
Susan spins, arms out, "What do you think, Grandfather? Isn't it lovely? Grandmother picked it out."
His eyes glisten as he recognizes the dress, "You look perfect in it, dear girl."
"Will you ever not call me that?"
"Will you ever not be my sweet, dear girl?"
"No," she says, grinning.
"Then you're stuck with it," he says, pulling her into another embrace.
When they part, he tilts his head. "When about are you now?"
"Oh! We just left Auros! Very temperate. Grandmother helped me with floral chemistry there—hand preceptors are tricky with new species."
"Ah yes! Chunky dories!" he laughs. "Your grandmother still orders those."
The Alchemist nods, smiling.
Susan turns to her, "Do you still eat those giant lollies?"
She groans, "Yes, I love the giant lollies."
"I passed a sweet shop on the way. Let me stock up for my version of you two!"
"That was you? You said it was your grandfather!"
"She said it was you, Ally!"
Susan laughs and ducks back behind the curtain, "I'll lie! Learned from the best!"
The Doctor and the Alchemist exchange a look and a smile.
'This is why we're here,' she says silently, 'The TARDIS wanted us to see Susan. It's a Bondmas gift. Proof they're not in the Time Lock.'
He nods, 'She wouldn't have made it through otherwise.'
"Alright, enough telepathy," Susan teases, "I'm all set."
She emerges with a pile of clothes. The Doctor snatches them up with a grin, which she returns.
"I'll buy it all, Susan," the Alchemist says without hesitation, juggling her own finds and a few things for her husband.
Susan bites her lip, "You already are. I nabbed your card and pulled notes from the TARDIS stash. I'll apologize tomorrow."
The Doctor and the Alchemist burst out laughing.
"Don't worry about it," the Alchemist smiles. "I never kept track, even then. Just put it back where you found it."
[Sweet Shop]
The Alchemist zones in on them the moment they step through the door. Her eyes lock on the display of oversized rainbow lollies like a predator spotting prey, and she's already halfway across the tile floor before a burst of familiar laughter cuts through the sugar-scented air.
She halts with a groan.
"Must you all make fun of me for my lolly love?" she pouts, spinning on her heel.
"Yes," the Doctor and Susan say in perfect sync. He lifts his hand. She high-fives it with a grin.
"It's alright, Grandmother, I'll stock you up!" Susan declares.
She snatches a paper bag from the stand and heads straight for the lollies, her purple velvet coat swishing behind her as she fills it with at least twenty of the four-inch swirled monstrosities.
She folds the bag shut with a flourish, then smirks over her shoulder as she grabs another, "Both versions of you."
The Doctor lets out a wild, unrestrained laugh and follows her to the shelves stacked with rows of brightly colored sweets. She grabs armfuls of jelly baby boxes, nearly dropping one as she bundles them toward the front counter.
"Do you have any more Jelly Babies?" Susan asks the stunned cashier, "I need forty boxes total."
The boy behind the counter blinks at her, "Uh, yes, uh… in the back. I'll… go get them," he stammers before disappearing through a swinging door.
"I don't recall forty," the Doctor says, quirking a brow.
"That's because twenty of them are for you!" she fires back, smug, and he retaliates with a quick tickle to her ribs that makes her squeal and dodge.
The cashier returns, carrying a large box, "There's forty in here. I'll just put them all through. Do you need anything else?"
"These lollies and…" Susan rocks back on her heels in thought, "A case of Crunchie bars, please!"
Still wide-eyed, he nods and vanishes again, off to retrieve the honeycomb confections.
"I'm so excited to try those," she says brightly, "Mum says they're wonderful. But if I don't like them, I'll just bring them to her instead!"
"I bet you'll like them," the Doctor teases.
"Will I? Do I?"
The Alchemist grins, "Maybe."
Susan groans, "Ugh, you're both cheeky now."
'What if we bring her to the party?' the Doctor thinks.
'You think?' the Alchemist replies, a grin twitching at her lips as the bond sparks with warm excitement.
'I think so. Yes, yes. She'll love it.'
"Susan," the Doctor says aloud, "how would you like to join us—and a friend of ours—at a party tonight?"
She spins toward them, eyes lighting up, "A human party?"
"Yes, my little raven," the Alchemist laughs, "You'll need to come back at 8 p.m., wearing black, alright?"
Susan nods enthusiastically, "That's not an issue! You've only been asleep for about an hour now. I'll just hop in the TARDIS and come back then!"
The couple share a grin, and the Doctor says, "Sounds like a plan. We'll give you the coordinates."
[Apartment - Living Room]
The Time Lord couple can't wipe the smiles off their faces as they head back. The sheer fact that their granddaughter was able to meet them—her past self, their current selves—it's like a spark under dry kindling. If they can see her, if she can reach them… then the others must be out there too.
"I can't believe it," the Alchemist says for the fifth time, "I can't believe that just happened."
"Time travel is amazing," the Doctor says, still buzzing.
"What happened?" Martha calls from the sofa, glancing up from a cup of tea.
They practically sprint to her, barely keeping it together.
"Our granddaughter Susan borrowed the TARDIS and went shopping," the Doctor blurts, "And her past self met our current selves and Ally found her—she was in that little shop she likes—and it was brilliant…"
"...And it's our Susan and she's coming to the party tonight!" the Alchemist jumps in, breathless and beaming, "And that means they're really out there and now we just have to find them and she's beautiful and we love her and oh my Alpha, Martha, you're going to meet her!"
Martha stares at them, wide-eyed, "So… you just saw… your granddaughter?"
"Yes," they chorus.
"And she's a previous… Regeneration?"
"Yes," again, in sync.
The Doctor explains, more grounded now, "If she's able to meet up with us, it means she's not trapped in the Time Lock that destroyed Gallifrey. She should've been pulled through her time scar phasement. That means either they or Ally figured out how to bypass it."
Martha blinks, then grins, "No idea what that means, but I'm so happy for you both. This is amazing! She's definitely coming to the party?"
"Yes!" they cheer, bouncing in place and hugging each other.
The moment is promptly shattered by a loud thump from below.
"Shut it!" their downstairs neighbor screams, banging the ceiling with what can only be a broom handle.
All three groan in unison.
[Street]
The Time Lords grin as they scan the bustling street, fingers laced, excitement in their eyes as they search for their granddaughter.
Martha shakes her head at their joy, her own heart full. To know their family is truly out there—really out there—and not just a strong theory of the Alchemist's? She can't imagine their relief.
All three are dressed mostly in black. The Alchemist wears a mod mini dress with white piping around the pockets, and Martha's black number has a little pleated frill at the hem. She's more than pleased with the dress the Time Lady picked—simple, stylish, and exactly what she would've chosen herself, had she the patience to sort through racks of poorly designed clothes outside the TARDIS.
The Doctor, though... Martha nearly laughs every time she looks at him. No suit. Instead, he's in a black turtleneck and slacks, Converse still on his feet. The Alchemist had handed him the outfit without fanfare. When he emerged grumbling from their room, she called them "The Mod Squad."
"Grandfather!" a voice calls, "Grandmother!"
Martha spins toward it, eyes widening. The young woman is stunning—petite, with a short fringed bob and a sharp black leather gogo cap. Her sleeveless black dress hits above the knee, with a low squared neckline that shows off a silver Victorian locket resting on her collarbones.
"Susan, dear girl!" the Doctor exclaims.
He catches her hands, twirling her until her dress flares and her giggle echoes down the street.
"Oh, you look just lovely, my little blue-eyed raven!" the Alchemist beams.
"This old thing?" Susan laughs, swinging her skirt, "I borrowed it."
"I know you did," the Time Lady smirks.
Susan giggles, then turns to Martha and offers her hand, "You must be Martha! My grandparents told me you travel with them. I can hardly believe it—traveling with a human! It must be so exciting for you. Oh, it's exciting for me too, mind you! I love exploring time and space, checking out new planets, new cultures. Don't you just love it?"
Martha is still shaking her hand as Susan rambles—then bursts out laughing.
"Did I say something wrong?" Susan turns, concerned.
Before the Time Lords can reply, Martha shakes her head quickly and waves her hands, "No, no! You're great, Susan. Just—wow. You're so like your grandparents. They can't shut up either."
Susan giggles, "Oh, that runs in the family. 'Gobs that don't stop!' You should meet my Auntie Nightingale and Aunt Loki. They're the real talkers."
Martha keeps her mouth shut—she's been briefed on what not to say about future timelines.
Then Susan gasps, literally hops in place, "Oh my goodness—I just had the greatest idea!"
"What's that, then?" the Doctor asks.
She only winks. The Doctor and Alchemist freeze, eyes locking.
'You don't think she planned the whole thing, do you?' he asks silently.
'Of course she did,' the Alchemist replies, 'Makes perfect sense. She's always been brilliant at keeping up a front…' her gaze sharpens, 'The question is... did she crash the TARDIS on purpose?'
Susan and Martha exchange a look.
"The one time they shut up," Martha mouths. Susan grins and nods.
'No,' the Doctor replies with a shake of his head, 'She wouldn't dare... But lead a few stray humans home? Absolutely.'
The Time Lords nod and smile—not angry in the least.
"Well, how about that party then?" the Alchemist asks, turning to them, "Martha says it's at a very mod club."
"This is so cool!" Susan gushes, "A dance party with my grandparents and their human companion? I can't believe this is my life!"
"Yep. She planned it," the Doctor mutters.
"Alright—three rules," he says, turning to her, "One, no smoking anything. Two, don't accept anything from strangers. C—no—three, only two glasses of alcohol. We know how you get."
The women stifle their laughter at the poor numbering.
"Rules accepted! I get to try human alcohol?" Susan asks, eyes sparkling.
"Guess so," Martha laughs. "You might like champagne. It's bubbly—like you."
The Doctor offers his arm to Susan, and she takes it with a graceful curtsey. Martha holds out hers to the Alchemist, who instead slings an arm around Martha's shoulders. The companion rolls her eyes but lets her. Lately, it's become habit—she's usually a head shorter than her pilots, even in heels.
[Dance Club]
They descend the steps into the club, flashing psychic papers to the doorman to skip the line.
"Oh wow," Martha breathes. Swing dancers spin across the floor to the beat of a live jazz band, arms flying, feet twisting.
Susan and the Alchemist grin at each other as the drums kick in, then dart to the floor to dance.
The Doctor offers Martha his hand. She takes it, and they follow, twisting to the rhythm.
After a few songs, the pairs switch—Susan spins in her grandfather's arms while the Alchemist rocks out with Martha. Then they all head to the bar.
"Champagne, a cab, plus two sodas and lime, please," Martha tells the bartender.
They watch eagerly as Susan sniffs her champagne, closes her eyes, and sips.
"Oh!" she gasps, "That is bubbly! I like it!"
The Time Lords laugh, and Martha smiles into her wine.
Later, while Susan and Martha return to the dance floor, the Doctor and Alchemist lean against the wall, watching.
"She's so beautiful," the Alchemist murmurs.
The Doctor sighs, nodding, "Thank you... for them," he says, kissing her knuckles.
She smirks, "Takes two to... swing."
He laughs, wraps an arm around her waist, and pinches her side—making her jump and smack his chest in laughter..
[Outside TARDIS]
"I love you, Grandfather, Grandmother!" Susan calls, pulling them into a tight hug.
"And we love you, our little blue-eyed raven," the Alchemist whispers into her ear.
The Doctor sighs, "We'll... see you soon, I suppose."
They smile, bittersweet, as Susan begins skipping toward the orange Volkswagen Beetle-shaped TARDIS. She's halfway there when she stops, sighs heavily, and turns back.
"Grandmother? Grandfather?" she calls. They look up. She's smiling, soft and steady. "Whatever awful thing happened... I know I'm not supposed to know yet, but... you'll get through it. Together. You always do. And we'll be there when you're ready to talk about it."
She turns the key, opens the door, and ducks inside. Just before it closes, she glances back—white circles glowing behind her in the console room, "I'll see you soon. Promise."
The Time Lord couple join hands tightly and watch as the TARDIS fades from view, dematerializing in silence.
"Next week," the Doctor says, "that's when we crash."
"And then one of the eight most brilliant Time Lords ever gets sent to a public high school," the Alchemist smirks, "...And brings home two stray humans. Changing our lives forever."
"Nine," he corrects.
"Who's the ninth?"
"You."
"Oh," she laughs, and they walk back toward where they left Martha outside the dance club.
[May 5th, 1969 - Apartment Living Room - Morning]
"We should work on the recording today," the Alchemist declares, striding out of the bedroom.
The Doctor looks up from his book. Martha turns away from where she's brewing tea.
"Theory or just eager to get back to traveling?" Martha asks knowingly.
"More like... I've calculated the date," the Alchemist shrugs.
Martha laughs, "I'm at the bookshop until noon. I'll stop and rent the camera and autocue after."
"Works for me!" the Doctor says brightly, "I'll be good and help Ally finish her quilt."
Both women arch eyebrows.
"How do you suggest doing that?" the Alchemist asks.
"You said you just have to pin the edges today, right? I can do that. I can pin things."
"You'll bleed on my quilt."
"She's right, Doctor, you will," Martha smirks.
"Let me try—please, please, please?" he begs, eyes wide and ridiculous.
The Alchemist sighs, then nods.
"You will rue this moment, Ally..." Martha mutters, shaking her head.
"I know," the Alchemist admits, "but those big brown eyes break me down every time."
The Doctor beams. Martha sips her tea, amused.
[May 5th, 1969 - Apartment Living Room - Afternoon]
Martha unlocks the door and walks in. She hears them before she sees them.
"You bled on my quilt!" the Alchemist snaps.
The Doctor rolls his eyes. "It's a spot!"
"A spot of blood!" she hisses, "Now I have to figure out how to get it out!"
"It's just an itty-bitty drop!"
"Of blood! Time Lord blood!"
Martha watches, entirely entertained. She calmly boils water for her tea, lets it steep, and adds milk.
"Ally," she calls after a sip, "just reverse the injury."
The Time Lords blink at her, then at the spot. Then at each other.
The Alchemist waves a hand. The spot disappears.
"'Out, damned spot! Out, I say!'" Martha smirks, heading into her room with her tea.
The pair start bickering all over again.
[May 8th, 1969 Alleyway]
The trio walks down the alleyway just as a black man appears out of thin air, falls back against the building, and lands hard on the ground.
They approach him, and the Doctor calls out, "Welcome!"
Billy gasps, "Where am I?"
"1969. It's May 8th," the Alchemist nods and the Doctor's device beeps again.
"Not bad, as it goes," the Doctor shrugs, "You've got the moon landing to look forward to."
"Oh, the moon landing's brilliant," Martha smiles, "We went four times..." she glares at the Time Lords, "Back when we had transport."
"Working on it!" the Doctor exclaims.
Billy frowns, shaking his head, "How did I get here?"
"The same way we did," the Alchemist explains as she and her Bondmate sit down next to the man, "The touch of an Angel. Same one, probably, since you ended up in the same year as us."
Billy struggles to get up but the Doctor guides him to sit back down, "No, no. No, no, no, don't get up. Time travel without a capsule," he grimaces, "Nasty. Catch your breath. Don't go swimming for half an hour."
"I don't," he murmurs, "...I can't."
"Fascinating race, the Weeping Angels," the Doctor sighs, "The only psychopaths in the Universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss, they just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present, they consume the energy of all the days you might have had. All your stolen moments."
The Alchemist continues, nodding, "They're creatures of the abstract. They live off potential energy. I had a colleague who studied them, let herself get killed about eight hundred times over just to understand the pattern of their hunt. Each one will send you to a different time, their quantum connection allows them to create a new timeline for you."
"What in God's name are you two talking about?"
"Trust me. Just nod when they stop for breath," Martha shrugs.
The Doctor shoots her a mock glare before showing him the device, "Tracked you down with this. This is my timey-wimey detector. It goes ding when there's stuff. ...Also, it can boil an egg at thirty paces, whether you want it to or not, actually, so I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."
"Horrifying actually. I can't eat eggs now." the Alchemist gags.
Billy shakes his head, "I don't understand. Where am I?"
"1969, like she says," Martha replies.
The Time Lady sighs, "Normally, we'd offer you a lift home, but somebody nicked our motor... although we kinda enjoyed ourselves, honestly."
Martha rolls her eyes, smiling; it hasn't been terrible. Especially getting to meet one of their family members.
The Doctor sighs and turns back to the man, "So we need you to take a message to Sally Sparrow," he frowns, "And I'm sorry, Billy. I am very, very sorry. It's going to take you a while."
[May 20th, 1969 - Living Room]
The Alchemist and the Doctor are cuddled on the couch, working on the patch, when Martha walks in.
"Alright, up you get, I brought fish and chips and salad!" she announces.
The Time Lords blink out of their state of semi-consciousness and slowly sit up as Martha brings the bag of takeaway to the coffee table.
"How was it today?" the Alchemist asks, and she tosses a chip into the air, and her husband catches it in his mouth.
Martha shrugs, "I sold some books and stocked some shelves. Boring."
The Doctor's about to respond when his Bondmate shoots to her feet with a grin and the timey-wimey detector begins to ding like wild.
"The TARDIS!" they all cry and run to their rooms to pack up.
[Outside TARDIS]
The trio leave the building and stop short, right in the middle of the sidewalk, is the blue police box waiting for them.
The Alchemist runs towards it and hugs the box, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
She lets out a loud hum, and the light on top even flashes.
'You're welcome, my thieves.'
[Drawing room]
"Okay, this is the one with the clearest sound," he holds up the pair of DVDs, "Slightly better picture quality on this one, but I don't..."
Sally cuts him off, "Doesn't matter."
"Okay," he says and puts one into the portable DVD player before selecting the egg, "There they are."
"The Doctor and the Alchemist," she gasps, seeing them on the screen.
"Who's the Doctor and the Alchemist?" Larry frowns, confused.
Sally points them out, "They're the Doctor and the Alchemist."
On-screen, the Doctor smiles, "Yup. That's us."
The Alchemist waves.
"Okay, that was scary," Sally mutters.
"No, it sounds like they're replying, but they always say that."
The Time Lady nods, "Yes, we do."
"And that."
The Doctor smirks, "Yup. And this."
"They can hear us," Sally breathes, "Oh, my God, you can really hear us!?"
"Of course, they can't hear us," Larry shakes his head and holds up a pile of papers, "Look, I've got a transcript. See? Everything they say. 'Yup, that's us.' 'Yes, we do.' 'Yup, and this.' Next it's..."
The Doctor rolls his eyes and says at the same time as Larry, "Are you going to read out the whole thing?"
"Sorry," he mutters, lowering the papers.
Sally turns to the screen, asking, "Who are you?"
"We're time travelers," the Alchemist says, wincing, "Or we were..."
The Doctor shrugs, "We're stuck in 1969."
Martha shifts and stands behind the pair, "We're all stuck! All of space and time, they promised me... Now I've got a job in a shop. I've got to support them!"
"Martha!" he admonishes.
"Sorry," she grimaces and goes behind the camera again, making the frame shake slightly.
"I've seen this bit before..." Sally realizes.
The Alchemist nods, "Quite possibly."
"1969, that's where you're talking from?"
"'Fraid so," the Doctor responds.
"But you're replying to me. You can't know exactly what I'm going to say, forty years before I say it!"
"Thirty-eight, three months, and four days. Go ahead and double-check, we'll wait," the Alchemist corrects with a smirk.
"Ally!" the Doctor groans.
Larry laughs, "I'm getting this down! I'm writing in your bits."
"How?" Sally asks, shuffling closer, "How is this possible? Tell me!"
"Not so fast," Larry mutters.
"People don't understand time," the Alchemist shakes her head, "It's not what you think it is."
Sally frowns, "Then what is it?"
The Doctor shrugs, "Complicated."
"Tell me."
"Very complicated," he continues.
She glares, "I'm clever and I'm listening. And don't patronize me because people have died, and I'm not happy. Tell me."
He turns to his wife, "You want to take this one?"
"Oh, no, love, I've been looking forward to this," she replies dryly.
"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect," the Doctor sighs, "But actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like... a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey stuff."
"...wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey?" the Alchemist turns to him and he winces.
"Yeah, I've seen this bit before," Sally recalls, "You said that sentence 'got away from him.'"
She looks at the camera again, "It got away from him, yeah."
"Next thing he's going to say is, 'Well we can hear you.'"
"Well, we can hear you," the Doctor says, seriously.
"This isn't possible," Sally sighs.
"No!" Larry calls out, "It's brilliant!"
"Not hear you, exactly," he explains, "But we know everything you're going to say."
"Always gives me the shivers, that bit," Larry mutters.
Sally frowns, "How can you know what I'm going to say?"
The Time Lady tips her head to the side, "Look to your left."
Sally frowns, looks, and sees Larry sitting next to her writing on the papers.
"What does she mean by 'look to your left?'" he mutters, 'I've written tons about that on the forums. I think it's a political statement."
"She means you," Sally responds, trying to see what he's writing, "What are you doing?"
"I'm writing in your bits," he explains, showing her the lines, "That way I've got a complete transcript of the whole conversation. Wait until this hits the net. This will explode the egg forums."
The Alchemist nods, "We've got a copy of the finished transcript. Martha's got it on our Autocue."
Sally looks back at the screen, shaking her head, "How can you have a copy of the finished transcript? It's still being written."
"We told you. We're time travelers," he explains, "We got it in the future."
She sighs, "Okay, let me get my head 'round this. You're reading aloud from a transcript of a conversation you're still having."
"Yeah," the Doctor shrugs, "Wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey."
"I'm married to this," the Alchemist mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, earning her a pinch to the ribs, and making her jump slightly.
"Never mind that," Sally turns back to Larry, brow raised, "You can do shorthand?"
He shrugs, still writing, "So?"
"What matters is, we can communicate," the Time Lord continues, "We have got big problems now. They have taken the blue box, haven't they? The Angels have the phone box."
Larry laughs, "The Angels have the phone box. That's my favorite, I've got it on a T-shirt. They argue about it next, it's funny."
"It's... not a phone box," the Alchemist grumbles.
The Doctor rolls his eyes, "It has a phone, Alchemist."
"I'm telling her you said that," she mock-glares at the man and he pouts.
"What do you mean, 'Angels?'" Sally asks, frowning, "You mean those statue things?"
"Creatures from another world," the Time Lady calls out.
She shakes her head, "But they're just statues..."
"Only when you see them," the Alchemist corrects.
"What does that mean?"
The Time Lady sighs, "The lonely assassins, they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from, but they're as old as the Universe, or very nearly, and they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantum-locked. That means they don't exist when they're being observed."
The Doctor nods, continuing, "The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice. It's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone. Of course, a stone can't kill you either. But then you turn your head away, then you blink, and oh yes it can."
Sally glances at the Angel nearby and orders Larry, "Don't take your eyes off that."
"That's why they cover their eyes," the Alchemist explains, "They're not weeping... They can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen."
The Doctor nods, sighing, "The loneliest creatures in the universe. And I'm sorry. I am very, very sorry."
"We both are," the Time Lady frowns, "It's up to you now."
Sally breathes out, "What am I supposed to do?"
"The blue box, it's our time machine. There is a world of time energy in there they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the sun. You have got to send it back to us!"
"How? How?" She demands.
The Doctor sighs after a moment, "And that's it, I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript; that's the last we've got. I don't know what stopped you talking, but I can guess. They're coming. The angels are coming for you. But listen, your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe... Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink."
"Good luck," the Time Lords tell them, and the frame freezes.