Runt of the Litter 3/6
Title: Runt of the Litter (3/6)
Pairing: 9/Rose
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Historical
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Crude Language (in Latin)
Summary:A trip to visit Caesar takes an unsuspected turn when everyone in a small village in Gaul, including Rose, has their memories changed and spontaneously develop lycanthropy. Can the Doctor reverse this before Caesar arrives and history is changed forever?
A/N: This is the second of my "Another Town" Series of standalones based off the song by the same title by Regina Spektor. This fic's line: "Don't let me forget"
Tyler woke feeling warm, safe, and content with most of her body protesting. She moved to sit up and nearly toppled to the ground. Warm arms wrapped securely around her and pulled her against a strong chest.
“Careful,” the Doctor’s voice murmured in her ear. She blinked her eyes open and was pleased to note that, although most of her body was sore, her headache was still gone. Tyler realized that the Doctor had stayed with her while she slept, and smiled up at him. He looked at her sheepishly, a pink tinge to his ears. “I didn’t want to move you to your room, because there would be too many reminders.” Tyler remembered the splitting pain from the night before, and she knew that it had been caused by something she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall what it was or why it had been important. She sighed and allowed herself to relax against him for a moment longer. “And you haven’t been sleeping recently, I didn’t want to wake you,” the Doctor continued, looking thoroughly chagrined. “You’ve been doing too much, and sleeping on the jump seat can’t have been comfortable. You must be sore.”
Tyler grinned up at him, not wanting him to feel guilty for something as wonderful as taking away her headache and giving her a warm, if cramped, place to sleep. “At least my pillow was comfortable,” she told him cheekily. The pink on his ears flamed to red, and Tyler felt her tongue perch itself predatorily at the corner of her mouth. Something about this man brought out the hunting instinct in her in a way that no man of the bleithed had managed. “I’m sure you could come up with something to take the pain away,” she murmured suggestively, with a slight emphasis on the word up.
“Ah, yes,” the Doctor stammered, standing up so quickly that Tyler was almost knocked off the seat. “A mild analgesic and anti-inflammatory should do the trick. Stay here, the rest of the TARDIS might bring up too many reminders, but you’ll be safe here.”
And he was gone. Tyler wasn’t sure whether she should chuckle or groan in frustration. Instead she turned her mind to the baffling items on the table that surrounded the column that couldn’t be glass. She could almost remember there being an image there the night before, but now it was gone. The more she examined the table, the more she felt a warm, almost familiar humming in the back of her head. It felt like someone welcoming her.
“Hello?” she asked quizzically. The hum changed and felt an affirmative.
“Are you alive?” Again affirmative. “Do you know me?” Affirmative. “Do I know you?” Affirmative. “Why can’t I remember?” This time the humming felt like a comforting hug that a mother might give a child dealing with hardships beyond their comprehension. “Is he taking care of himself?” A definite no. “Are you taking care of him?” Amused affirmative. “How do I stop this?” The humming expressed a sense of uncertainty so strong that Tyler fought the urge to shrug.
Tyler squared her shoulders, fighting a tremor of fear at her next question “Am I his Rose?” A wary affirmative, as if afraid of hurting her. Tyler sighed in what she realized was profound relief.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing the Doctor’s return as surely as Caesar’s trumpeters must. Tyler swallowed down her trepidation and whispered hurriedly, heart in her throat, “Does he love her?”
The Doctor hurried into the room declaring he’d found just what she needed, and Tyler jumped, loosing her connection to the hum before sensing the answer. “Here. Drink all of this. I’ve added an electrolyte solution. I know you’ve been over-working yourself, and I doubt I can convince you to sit down to a proper meal-“
“We need to talk to Amou,” Tyler protested.
“Quod erat demonstrandum,” the Doctor continued wryly. “So, at least I can help counteract the effects. And if the drain is getting worse, I want to you strong enough to fight it off, Rose. Now, drink.”
Tyler took the large glass, briefly wondering at the fact that he could afford to waste something so fragile and valuable on a something as mundane as a drinking vessel. She eyed the contents warily.
“It doesn’t taste bad, I promise,” the Doctor assured her with a sigh. “Though the longer you procrastinate the longer it will be before we can go speak with Amou.”
Glaring at him for this blatant manipulation, Tyler chugged the mystery liquid, suddenly understanding Olric’s reticence. Luckily for her, the Doctor wasn’t lying. The potion had a strange taste she had never experienced before, but whispered familiarity across her tongue. It was sweet, but with tart overtones. For some inexplicable reason, it made her think of the color orange.
The Doctor smiled indulgently at her when she thrust the empty glass at him as if to say “happy now?” She knew she was being childish, but his quick return had kept her from getting her answer from the strange humming, and she was taking it out on him unrepentantly. The Doctor carelessly placed the glass amongst the myriad of objects on the round table, which elicited a dissonant chime.
“I’ll take care of it when I get back. I’d’ve thought you’d accept that this is a bit more important,” the Doctor admonished the room at large. Tyler wondered if he could talk to the hum, too. Turning back to give her a manic grin, the Doctor held out his hand, which Tyler grasped instantly. “Now then, let’s go see this girl of yours.”
*
The Doctor’s heart was soaring, walking, once again, with Rose Tyler’s hand tucked securely in his own. If Rose’s intuition was correct, and it was more often than not, then he would have her back, wholly and completely herself quite soon. It had been months, and his hearts yearned for her. They walked slowly, their fingers intertwined, discussing what she had observed in the pack leader’s daughter. The Doctor was even more concerned because he knew that Caesar and his troops would be arriving soon. This village was supposed to meet him peacefully, but with the influence of the Alii spreading to the whole village, leading them to paranoia and aggression, the Doctor feared that they would try to fight the Roman’s advancing force, and if they did, they would be crushed. Caesar’s men might be temporarily unnerved by these men who could become wolves, but they thought the Picts were ghosts and still invaded successfully. Nothing supernatural could stop the armies of Caesar.
If it came down to it, the Doctor would take Rose and leave. She would not be an unnamed casualty in Caesar’s Comentarii.
They reached Conall’s house far too quickly in the Doctor’s opinion, as Rose’s smile disappeared when they reached the door. Rose knocked on the door, calling out to let the inhabitants know who was intruding on their time together. The door opened quickly, Faoiltiama grabbing Rose into a hug which forced the Doctor to relinquish his hold on her. As much as he understood the urge to draw Rose close whenever possible, the Doctor resented having her pulled from him.
“Tyler,” Faoiltiama exclaimed, “we can’t thank you enough. You’ve done so much for us. If you hadn’t organized the search, we might’ve never gotten our daughter back.”
“Is she awake yet?” Rose asked gently extricating herself from the larger woman’s desperate grip. Faoiltiama nodded briskly. “I’ve brought the Doctor,” Rose stated, stepping back to take his hand. She pulled him closer to the door, and the Doctor was touched to note that she stood slightly between him and the potentially unstable bleithed. “I’d like for him to take a look at her, if you don’t mind. I think he can help heal her.”
Faoiltiama’s suspicious eyes darted up to examine him, but the Doctor was unconcerned by her scrutiny. After a moment, she nodded. “Of course,” she said with a sudden, warm smile that Rose matched instantly. “After what Conchobhar did for Olric, how could I be anything but grateful? If there is anything you can do for our daughter, we would be most appreciative.”
Rose turned her smile on him, as though proud of him for having ingratiated himself with the pack leader’s wife, though he knew it was all her doing. She had brought their son’s injury to him; without her intervention, he likely wouldn’t have such easy access. Even with her memories stolen, she was still helping him. His hearts ached with the desire to fold her in his arms and never let go. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled into the house, ducking beneath the low lintel.
Amou was flushed and drawn. Her eyes were glassy with fever. Her right hand moved aimlessly across the bed.
It took the Doctor only a minute to rustle though his pockets before he pulled out what he wanted. He stuffed a pen into the girl’s hand and slid a pad of paper under it. Rose watched sadly as the image of a man on fire soon emerged.
“That’s what she was scratching on the ground. She said it’s been haunting her for a few months, now.”
After the outline of the burning man was finished, Amou started sketching lines across the limbs. The lines interwove, like threads in a tapestry. A phrase bubbled up from the recesses of the Doctor’s mind.
“membra contexta vinimibus,” he murmured, surprised and suddenly awash with joy. He knew what this was; this would all be over so very, very soon. Rose looked up at him, wonder and confusion in her eyes.
“Isn’t that the language of the Romans? How do you know it?”
“Five billion languages I know, and you’re surprised by a bit of Latin,” the Doctor groused fondly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her into his side. A wide grim had settled itself firmly on his face and seemed unwilling to leave, no matter the circumstances. “And what about you? You don’t speak a lick of proto-German, and yet you talk with these people without effort. But that’s you to a T, Rose Tyler. Even if you didn’t have the help of the TARDIS, you would be able to communicate with them, because you understand people almost without trying. It’s absolutely fantastic.”
Rose looked at him in fond concern. “Are you feeling okay, Doctor?”
“Never better, Rose. I’ve always hated archaeologists, and now I get a chance to prove them wrong. Or right. They do love to argue about this account.” He sobered, grabbing her by both shoulders, forcing her to face her. “Now this is important, Rose. We’re going to need a lot of thin, flexible branches, probably as many as the village can collect, and we need them soon.”
“Why, Doctor? That kind of large scale harvesting could damage the trees near here. I’ll need a good reason to convince the other bleithed.”
Still high on endorphins and adrenaline, the Doctor acted on desire without thinking. “I’ll show you,” he told her huskily. His right hand came up to caress her temple while his left stretched down toward Amou. Before he could second-guess his actions, he pulled Rose into a safe corner of his mind.
Rose gasped against him, her hands instinctively clutching him. He felt her surprise and confusion tickle against his consciousness. She sent out a query, seeking confirmation that the presence that surrounded her was, indeed, him. He responded with a warm affirmation, and confusion burst into a warm joy that seemed to illuminate every corner of his soul with her trust and affection.
Don’t worry, Rose, I’m not in your mind, and I won’t look at anything you don’t want me to, he reassured her. Rose nodded. Now, why don’t we take a look at what is influencing your young friend.
With her, the Doctor reached out to the Alii teeming furiously through Amou’s overtaxed psyche. Rose gasped, alarm and concern damping the warmth of her in his mind, but the concern was outward. She did not fear for herself. No, she seemed to have an absolute trust in him that he was positive he didn’t deserve. Rather, she was worried for Amou.
The Alii were a pale lilac in color that would likely have been pretty they didn’t leave angry red marks wherever they passed. They resembled deadly jellyfish that were tumbling through the poor girl’s brain, drawing in the power of her fear and turning into energy to sustain the changes they’d made on the unshielded villagers.
Sensing the Doctor’s presence, they reached for him, trying to snare him in their tendrils, make him a part of the delusion they’d gripped the village in to keep their presence unnoticed, but the Doctor simply batted away their attempts with little effort.
“What are you doing in this girl?” he asked them. “She’s not strong enough to support you.”
“She was the only one who could receive us. We did not mean to land here. The gods are displeased with us, and so we have been stranded in this place. We are only trying to survive.”
“Wha’ d’you mean, stranded?”
“Our faith has been deemed unworthy by the gods. Although we performed the ritual, we have been unable to transport. Although we came here only to see this great man of Earth’s history, we arrived too early, and have been unable to move. The gods then cut off our food supply, so we moved to the only mind that was receptive. There were those that were more powerful, but we could not get in. This child was our only hope.”
The Doctor fought an intense desire to roll his eyes. The Alii had long since fallen into the grasp of Clarke’s third law. “Any technology, sufficiently advanced, can be mistaken for magic” or, in this case, the gods. The Alii had once been fantastic scientists, but had lost that drive to study and discover, and their science had been converted to religion. Now, they operated their ships by ritual rather than by knowing the mechanisms of their own instruments. Since their ships were telepathic, they were still able to get where they need to go, but they had lost the knowledge of proper maintenance. It was only a matter of time before they all broke down.
This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when one took the entirety of Time and Space into consideration. But most of the time when this occurred, there was a priesthood made up of those who could understand and help fix the machines. The Alii, in their infinite idiocy, had shunned priests several centuries ago, rebelling against the clergy in a belief that they are being kept from communicating directly with their gods.
One of the Alii drifted closer to Rose, doubtless lured by the strength of her mind. The Doctor clutched her closer to him and lashed out with all the protective fury that he had been forced to quash during the past few months.
“Don’t you touch her!” he bellowed, his defense of her so strong that the injudicious Alius went careening backwards, scattering his comrades. “You invaded this girl’s mind, you have altered the minds and the bodies of every human in this village, you are killing these villagers, draining them of their strength, and you have the gall to try to attach to the mind of my companion while I am standing right here?” The Doctor raised his hand, ready to drive them from Amou’s mind, heedless of the fact that it would kill them and could irreparably damage Amou.
Rose made a soft, soothing noise next to him, her hand brushing gently across his. The Doctor reigned in his anger, and spat out bitterly, “No wonder the gods have forsaken you. Luckily for you, I am capable of intervening with them on your behalf. But you must give me access to your ship. There will be a cleansing ritual.”
“Our ship is in the wood to the east of here. On the road that will bring Caesar.”
“Why wolves?” Rose blurted out, before the Doctor could pull them out of Amou’s mind. “Why do you turn the villagers to wolves when it only kills them?”
“That was this child’s wish. We are giving her a world in which she can feel strong and, in feeling strong, feel safe.”
“She’s the pack leader’s daughter.” Rose interjected. “Why wouldn’t she feel safe?”
“She has heard of Caesar’s coming. She was told what Caesar’s men would do to the maidens in the area after they have killed all the men.”
The Doctor shook his head. “Rumor, compared with whom no other is as swift. She flies, screeching, by night though the shadows between earth and sky, never closing her eyelids in sweet sleep” he muttered bitterly. “They normally wouldn’t bother. After all, they had plenty of camp followers.” He fixed the Alii with a fierce glower, letting them see the Storm in his eyes. “Take no more from this girl than you absolutely need to survive. I will see to your ship. If you continue to harm these people, you will have me to answer to.” He detached himself and Rose from Amou’s mind, so that they could no longer see or hear the Alii, not interested in the pleas or protests.
“Now do you understand why I need the young branches?” he asked.
“For the cleansing ritual?”
The Doctor smiled ruefully. “Essentially. Just know that it will get their ship working and them out of here. It will save this village.”
Rose nodded determinedly. “I’ll go talk to them. We should have them by tonight.”
The Doctor pulled his hand back from Rose’s temple, severing their connection. Rose shivered and tears sprang up in her eyes.
“Where’d you go?” she asked in a small voice.
“I’m still here,” he told her with a tap to his temple. “Where I always was.”
“Then where’d I go?” she persisted.
“Back into your head, where you belong.”
“I can’t stay with you?”
The Doctor shook his head, pushing aside the enormity of what she’d just asked him. “I can’t maintain the connection without touch, unless I make it permanent.”
“Then why don’t you make it permanent?”
The Doctor swallowed. "Ask again when you're you again," he told her, his voice rough. "Now off with you. I've got to see to this ship of theirs."
Chapter 4
Pairing: 9/Rose
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Historical
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Crude Language (in Latin)
Summary:A trip to visit Caesar takes an unsuspected turn when everyone in a small village in Gaul, including Rose, has their memories changed and spontaneously develop lycanthropy. Can the Doctor reverse this before Caesar arrives and history is changed forever?
A/N: This is the second of my "Another Town" Series of standalones based off the song by the same title by Regina Spektor. This fic's line: "Don't let me forget"
Tyler woke feeling warm, safe, and content with most of her body protesting. She moved to sit up and nearly toppled to the ground. Warm arms wrapped securely around her and pulled her against a strong chest.
“Careful,” the Doctor’s voice murmured in her ear. She blinked her eyes open and was pleased to note that, although most of her body was sore, her headache was still gone. Tyler realized that the Doctor had stayed with her while she slept, and smiled up at him. He looked at her sheepishly, a pink tinge to his ears. “I didn’t want to move you to your room, because there would be too many reminders.” Tyler remembered the splitting pain from the night before, and she knew that it had been caused by something she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall what it was or why it had been important. She sighed and allowed herself to relax against him for a moment longer. “And you haven’t been sleeping recently, I didn’t want to wake you,” the Doctor continued, looking thoroughly chagrined. “You’ve been doing too much, and sleeping on the jump seat can’t have been comfortable. You must be sore.”
Tyler grinned up at him, not wanting him to feel guilty for something as wonderful as taking away her headache and giving her a warm, if cramped, place to sleep. “At least my pillow was comfortable,” she told him cheekily. The pink on his ears flamed to red, and Tyler felt her tongue perch itself predatorily at the corner of her mouth. Something about this man brought out the hunting instinct in her in a way that no man of the bleithed had managed. “I’m sure you could come up with something to take the pain away,” she murmured suggestively, with a slight emphasis on the word up.
“Ah, yes,” the Doctor stammered, standing up so quickly that Tyler was almost knocked off the seat. “A mild analgesic and anti-inflammatory should do the trick. Stay here, the rest of the TARDIS might bring up too many reminders, but you’ll be safe here.”
And he was gone. Tyler wasn’t sure whether she should chuckle or groan in frustration. Instead she turned her mind to the baffling items on the table that surrounded the column that couldn’t be glass. She could almost remember there being an image there the night before, but now it was gone. The more she examined the table, the more she felt a warm, almost familiar humming in the back of her head. It felt like someone welcoming her.
“Hello?” she asked quizzically. The hum changed and felt an affirmative.
“Are you alive?” Again affirmative. “Do you know me?” Affirmative. “Do I know you?” Affirmative. “Why can’t I remember?” This time the humming felt like a comforting hug that a mother might give a child dealing with hardships beyond their comprehension. “Is he taking care of himself?” A definite no. “Are you taking care of him?” Amused affirmative. “How do I stop this?” The humming expressed a sense of uncertainty so strong that Tyler fought the urge to shrug.
Tyler squared her shoulders, fighting a tremor of fear at her next question “Am I his Rose?” A wary affirmative, as if afraid of hurting her. Tyler sighed in what she realized was profound relief.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing the Doctor’s return as surely as Caesar’s trumpeters must. Tyler swallowed down her trepidation and whispered hurriedly, heart in her throat, “Does he love her?”
The Doctor hurried into the room declaring he’d found just what she needed, and Tyler jumped, loosing her connection to the hum before sensing the answer. “Here. Drink all of this. I’ve added an electrolyte solution. I know you’ve been over-working yourself, and I doubt I can convince you to sit down to a proper meal-“
“We need to talk to Amou,” Tyler protested.
“Quod erat demonstrandum,” the Doctor continued wryly. “So, at least I can help counteract the effects. And if the drain is getting worse, I want to you strong enough to fight it off, Rose. Now, drink.”
Tyler took the large glass, briefly wondering at the fact that he could afford to waste something so fragile and valuable on a something as mundane as a drinking vessel. She eyed the contents warily.
“It doesn’t taste bad, I promise,” the Doctor assured her with a sigh. “Though the longer you procrastinate the longer it will be before we can go speak with Amou.”
Glaring at him for this blatant manipulation, Tyler chugged the mystery liquid, suddenly understanding Olric’s reticence. Luckily for her, the Doctor wasn’t lying. The potion had a strange taste she had never experienced before, but whispered familiarity across her tongue. It was sweet, but with tart overtones. For some inexplicable reason, it made her think of the color orange.
The Doctor smiled indulgently at her when she thrust the empty glass at him as if to say “happy now?” She knew she was being childish, but his quick return had kept her from getting her answer from the strange humming, and she was taking it out on him unrepentantly. The Doctor carelessly placed the glass amongst the myriad of objects on the round table, which elicited a dissonant chime.
“I’ll take care of it when I get back. I’d’ve thought you’d accept that this is a bit more important,” the Doctor admonished the room at large. Tyler wondered if he could talk to the hum, too. Turning back to give her a manic grin, the Doctor held out his hand, which Tyler grasped instantly. “Now then, let’s go see this girl of yours.”
*
The Doctor’s heart was soaring, walking, once again, with Rose Tyler’s hand tucked securely in his own. If Rose’s intuition was correct, and it was more often than not, then he would have her back, wholly and completely herself quite soon. It had been months, and his hearts yearned for her. They walked slowly, their fingers intertwined, discussing what she had observed in the pack leader’s daughter. The Doctor was even more concerned because he knew that Caesar and his troops would be arriving soon. This village was supposed to meet him peacefully, but with the influence of the Alii spreading to the whole village, leading them to paranoia and aggression, the Doctor feared that they would try to fight the Roman’s advancing force, and if they did, they would be crushed. Caesar’s men might be temporarily unnerved by these men who could become wolves, but they thought the Picts were ghosts and still invaded successfully. Nothing supernatural could stop the armies of Caesar.
If it came down to it, the Doctor would take Rose and leave. She would not be an unnamed casualty in Caesar’s Comentarii.
They reached Conall’s house far too quickly in the Doctor’s opinion, as Rose’s smile disappeared when they reached the door. Rose knocked on the door, calling out to let the inhabitants know who was intruding on their time together. The door opened quickly, Faoiltiama grabbing Rose into a hug which forced the Doctor to relinquish his hold on her. As much as he understood the urge to draw Rose close whenever possible, the Doctor resented having her pulled from him.
“Tyler,” Faoiltiama exclaimed, “we can’t thank you enough. You’ve done so much for us. If you hadn’t organized the search, we might’ve never gotten our daughter back.”
“Is she awake yet?” Rose asked gently extricating herself from the larger woman’s desperate grip. Faoiltiama nodded briskly. “I’ve brought the Doctor,” Rose stated, stepping back to take his hand. She pulled him closer to the door, and the Doctor was touched to note that she stood slightly between him and the potentially unstable bleithed. “I’d like for him to take a look at her, if you don’t mind. I think he can help heal her.”
Faoiltiama’s suspicious eyes darted up to examine him, but the Doctor was unconcerned by her scrutiny. After a moment, she nodded. “Of course,” she said with a sudden, warm smile that Rose matched instantly. “After what Conchobhar did for Olric, how could I be anything but grateful? If there is anything you can do for our daughter, we would be most appreciative.”
Rose turned her smile on him, as though proud of him for having ingratiated himself with the pack leader’s wife, though he knew it was all her doing. She had brought their son’s injury to him; without her intervention, he likely wouldn’t have such easy access. Even with her memories stolen, she was still helping him. His hearts ached with the desire to fold her in his arms and never let go. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled into the house, ducking beneath the low lintel.
Amou was flushed and drawn. Her eyes were glassy with fever. Her right hand moved aimlessly across the bed.
It took the Doctor only a minute to rustle though his pockets before he pulled out what he wanted. He stuffed a pen into the girl’s hand and slid a pad of paper under it. Rose watched sadly as the image of a man on fire soon emerged.
“That’s what she was scratching on the ground. She said it’s been haunting her for a few months, now.”
After the outline of the burning man was finished, Amou started sketching lines across the limbs. The lines interwove, like threads in a tapestry. A phrase bubbled up from the recesses of the Doctor’s mind.
“membra contexta vinimibus,” he murmured, surprised and suddenly awash with joy. He knew what this was; this would all be over so very, very soon. Rose looked up at him, wonder and confusion in her eyes.
“Isn’t that the language of the Romans? How do you know it?”
“Five billion languages I know, and you’re surprised by a bit of Latin,” the Doctor groused fondly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her into his side. A wide grim had settled itself firmly on his face and seemed unwilling to leave, no matter the circumstances. “And what about you? You don’t speak a lick of proto-German, and yet you talk with these people without effort. But that’s you to a T, Rose Tyler. Even if you didn’t have the help of the TARDIS, you would be able to communicate with them, because you understand people almost without trying. It’s absolutely fantastic.”
Rose looked at him in fond concern. “Are you feeling okay, Doctor?”
“Never better, Rose. I’ve always hated archaeologists, and now I get a chance to prove them wrong. Or right. They do love to argue about this account.” He sobered, grabbing her by both shoulders, forcing her to face her. “Now this is important, Rose. We’re going to need a lot of thin, flexible branches, probably as many as the village can collect, and we need them soon.”
“Why, Doctor? That kind of large scale harvesting could damage the trees near here. I’ll need a good reason to convince the other bleithed.”
Still high on endorphins and adrenaline, the Doctor acted on desire without thinking. “I’ll show you,” he told her huskily. His right hand came up to caress her temple while his left stretched down toward Amou. Before he could second-guess his actions, he pulled Rose into a safe corner of his mind.
Rose gasped against him, her hands instinctively clutching him. He felt her surprise and confusion tickle against his consciousness. She sent out a query, seeking confirmation that the presence that surrounded her was, indeed, him. He responded with a warm affirmation, and confusion burst into a warm joy that seemed to illuminate every corner of his soul with her trust and affection.
Don’t worry, Rose, I’m not in your mind, and I won’t look at anything you don’t want me to, he reassured her. Rose nodded. Now, why don’t we take a look at what is influencing your young friend.
With her, the Doctor reached out to the Alii teeming furiously through Amou’s overtaxed psyche. Rose gasped, alarm and concern damping the warmth of her in his mind, but the concern was outward. She did not fear for herself. No, she seemed to have an absolute trust in him that he was positive he didn’t deserve. Rather, she was worried for Amou.
The Alii were a pale lilac in color that would likely have been pretty they didn’t leave angry red marks wherever they passed. They resembled deadly jellyfish that were tumbling through the poor girl’s brain, drawing in the power of her fear and turning into energy to sustain the changes they’d made on the unshielded villagers.
Sensing the Doctor’s presence, they reached for him, trying to snare him in their tendrils, make him a part of the delusion they’d gripped the village in to keep their presence unnoticed, but the Doctor simply batted away their attempts with little effort.
“What are you doing in this girl?” he asked them. “She’s not strong enough to support you.”
“She was the only one who could receive us. We did not mean to land here. The gods are displeased with us, and so we have been stranded in this place. We are only trying to survive.”
“Wha’ d’you mean, stranded?”
“Our faith has been deemed unworthy by the gods. Although we performed the ritual, we have been unable to transport. Although we came here only to see this great man of Earth’s history, we arrived too early, and have been unable to move. The gods then cut off our food supply, so we moved to the only mind that was receptive. There were those that were more powerful, but we could not get in. This child was our only hope.”
The Doctor fought an intense desire to roll his eyes. The Alii had long since fallen into the grasp of Clarke’s third law. “Any technology, sufficiently advanced, can be mistaken for magic” or, in this case, the gods. The Alii had once been fantastic scientists, but had lost that drive to study and discover, and their science had been converted to religion. Now, they operated their ships by ritual rather than by knowing the mechanisms of their own instruments. Since their ships were telepathic, they were still able to get where they need to go, but they had lost the knowledge of proper maintenance. It was only a matter of time before they all broke down.
This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when one took the entirety of Time and Space into consideration. But most of the time when this occurred, there was a priesthood made up of those who could understand and help fix the machines. The Alii, in their infinite idiocy, had shunned priests several centuries ago, rebelling against the clergy in a belief that they are being kept from communicating directly with their gods.
One of the Alii drifted closer to Rose, doubtless lured by the strength of her mind. The Doctor clutched her closer to him and lashed out with all the protective fury that he had been forced to quash during the past few months.
“Don’t you touch her!” he bellowed, his defense of her so strong that the injudicious Alius went careening backwards, scattering his comrades. “You invaded this girl’s mind, you have altered the minds and the bodies of every human in this village, you are killing these villagers, draining them of their strength, and you have the gall to try to attach to the mind of my companion while I am standing right here?” The Doctor raised his hand, ready to drive them from Amou’s mind, heedless of the fact that it would kill them and could irreparably damage Amou.
Rose made a soft, soothing noise next to him, her hand brushing gently across his. The Doctor reigned in his anger, and spat out bitterly, “No wonder the gods have forsaken you. Luckily for you, I am capable of intervening with them on your behalf. But you must give me access to your ship. There will be a cleansing ritual.”
“Our ship is in the wood to the east of here. On the road that will bring Caesar.”
“Why wolves?” Rose blurted out, before the Doctor could pull them out of Amou’s mind. “Why do you turn the villagers to wolves when it only kills them?”
“That was this child’s wish. We are giving her a world in which she can feel strong and, in feeling strong, feel safe.”
“She’s the pack leader’s daughter.” Rose interjected. “Why wouldn’t she feel safe?”
“She has heard of Caesar’s coming. She was told what Caesar’s men would do to the maidens in the area after they have killed all the men.”
The Doctor shook his head. “Rumor, compared with whom no other is as swift. She flies, screeching, by night though the shadows between earth and sky, never closing her eyelids in sweet sleep” he muttered bitterly. “They normally wouldn’t bother. After all, they had plenty of camp followers.” He fixed the Alii with a fierce glower, letting them see the Storm in his eyes. “Take no more from this girl than you absolutely need to survive. I will see to your ship. If you continue to harm these people, you will have me to answer to.” He detached himself and Rose from Amou’s mind, so that they could no longer see or hear the Alii, not interested in the pleas or protests.
“Now do you understand why I need the young branches?” he asked.
“For the cleansing ritual?”
The Doctor smiled ruefully. “Essentially. Just know that it will get their ship working and them out of here. It will save this village.”
Rose nodded determinedly. “I’ll go talk to them. We should have them by tonight.”
The Doctor pulled his hand back from Rose’s temple, severing their connection. Rose shivered and tears sprang up in her eyes.
“Where’d you go?” she asked in a small voice.
“I’m still here,” he told her with a tap to his temple. “Where I always was.”
“Then where’d I go?” she persisted.
“Back into your head, where you belong.”
“I can’t stay with you?”
The Doctor shook his head, pushing aside the enormity of what she’d just asked him. “I can’t maintain the connection without touch, unless I make it permanent.”
“Then why don’t you make it permanent?”
The Doctor swallowed. "Ask again when you're you again," he told her, his voice rough. "Now off with you. I've got to see to this ship of theirs."
Chapter 4