The Light of the Moons - Chapter 2

[whosintheattic]

Title: The Light of the Moons
Author: whosintheattic
Beta: DavidTennantsTrainers
Chapter: 2/4
Rating: T
Characters: Tenth Doctor and Original Character
Spoilers: Doctor Who up until The End of Time [stop reading now, because the the Author's Notes have spoilers too].
Summary: Three years after the events of Journey's End, the Doctor meets Sara Parker while investigating a wave of disappearances on a university campus in America. After rescuing her from the clutches of danger, the two set out for Fentiern, a three-mooned planet in serious need of help.
Authors Notes: This goes AU after Waters of Mars and sticks to canon as much as possible other than the death prophecies throughout series four, the specials, and whatever I might get wrong due to lack of familiarity with Classic Who.



Sara stepped into the doorway and gazed out at the Fentiernian landscape. They were in the middle of a large park; only a few handfuls of tourists-breathing units giving them away-milled around admiring the foliage. She strode from the TARDIS and took her first few steps on the alien planet. The air was thick and heavy; Sara had only experienced this sensation on Earth on the most humid days, but this air was crisp and dry. The grass was lush and springy beneath her feet, and the trees were an absolutely bizarre shade of green-possibly with blue mixed in-and stood in clusters of fifteen to thirty. They were short with large sprawling canopies of huge leaves. At home, Sara had once seen a leaf bigger than her head. These leaves had to be five times that at the smallest. That awestruck smile was plastered across her face once more (had it ever gone?), and when she looked up, it grew impossibly wider.

“The Fentiernian sun is bigger than the Earth’s, but is much further away,” the Doctor said, extending his arm upward, pointing north, as if she could possibly miss the dime-sized circle that hung in the sky. The purple sky. Her eyes were fixed on it, and the Doctor fixed his on her, “Which wouldn’t be a problem-by Earth standards, of course-if the Fentiernian atmosphere weren’t so thick- “

“This is beautiful,” she said, unintentionally cutting him off. The Doctor saw that her eyes were shimmering with would-be tears, and opted not to finish. He didn’t want to clutter her moment with factoids about the evolutionary processes of the plant life of Fentiern, and how they’d evolved to depend on the reflected light of all three of the planet’s moons in order to thrive.

“Yes, it really is. Perpetual twilight the whole day,” he said instead, nodding. He looked again to the sky and appreciated the scene a bit more than he had moments before. They stood side by side in silence, admiring the faint speckles of the stars, “If you think this is beautiful, wait until the moons come up.”

“How many?”

“Three,” he said, “and tonight-today-is the first time in 625 years that they will all be full, in the sky together.”

“They’re gonna have parties!” she said excitedly, “and we should find one.” She looked at him and smiled.

“That’s the spirit!” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, “but first, let’s get some chips. I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” she chimed, but then paused and wrinkled her brows, stepping back to look at him, “but…is the food safe to eat? I mean, it’s not like going to Mexico and you get-“

“-no, the food is brilliant,” he cut in, waving his hands in front of him, “You’ll be fine. We both will,” he said, turning his attention back to the TARDIS. He made sure the doors were closed and locked. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Sara had wandered over to one of the Gaffel trees. As she lightly touched and inspected the meter-wide leaf, he pulled a black leather billfold from his breast pocket, flipped it open, and read the words that flickered on his psychic paper: It happens tonight; the plague will claim us all. He flipped it closed, exchanged it for his glasses, slid them onto his nose, and turned in Sara’s direction.

The Doctor approached her after securing the TARDIS, and as he walked up, she hid behind the enormous leaf of the alien tree. She peeked over it at him and giggled, amused that she could hide nearly all of herself behind it. “You might not want to do that,” he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses, “these trees are sentient, and this one might not take kindly to strangers,” he jerked his head in the direction of the tree trunk, and then jutted his chin out slightly and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Sara let go of the leaf like it had bitten her, and took a step back.

“Sorry,” she said in the direction of the tree trunk, feeling a bit silly doing so, until the leaves gave a slight shudder. She stepped out from under the tree and addressed the Doctor, “I didn’t know you needed glasses,” she said. Her frames were nearly identical, and this topic of conversation reminded her that her lenses needed a cleaning. She slid them off and breathed on the left lens, using the hem of her t-shirt to clean it.

“Oh, I don’t need them; I just think they make me look clever. What do you think?” He struck a thoughtful pose. She cleaned the right lens of her glasses, slid them on, and then looked him over.

“They do, actually,” she smiled. They make you look gorgeous, she thought. The Doctor also smiled-he seemed to be doing a lot of that around Sara-and they headed toward the edge of the park. Sara was walking just ahead of him, and he watched the back of her head silently as it turned in all directions. The guilt he was feeling created a pit in his stomach. He shouldn’t have brought her here, but she asked for a purple sky. And moons. It was a perfect coincidence. (In fact, it was too perfect to be a coincidence). This place had both, even if it did have an individual anonymously transmitting foreboding prophecy. He could show Sara a great time, get to the bottom of this cryptic message, and have her back in time for dinner. He could have her home the very minute after they’d left

“Doctor,” Sara said, turning back to see an intense look on the face of a man in deep thought. He realized he was being addressed and snapped his attention to her.

“Hmm?”

“When are we?” She asked. He took a deep breath in through his nose, sniffing the air, and exhaled slowly.

“Around 1200 C.E.”

“Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...” she giggled, eyeing the city’s skyline. The average building made the Burj Khalifa look puny. She continued to crane her neck to look at them until she couldn’t bear it anymore. By the time she leveled her gaze again, they were approaching the door of a place that smelled unlike anything she’d ever known; it was, well-alien-and very pleasant.

Moments later, they each took a seat on opposite sides of a small, square dining table. Sara was stunned at how much the restaurant looked like a 1950’s throwback diners from back home. She opened the menu, and studied it. Even though everything appeared in English, the words were, well-foreign. She furrowed her brows behind the menu and tried to make sense of the strange spices and ingredients through context, but it was futile. What the hell does ‘filsapholious’ taste like? she wondered. “What do you think I should get?” she asked the Doctor.

When the server (a purple-skinned creature with stunning yellow eyes) took their order, she stumbled over the pronunciation of the Doctor’s suggestion, and then chose a drink at random from the back of the menu.

Unfortunately, Sara found out after receiving the meal the Doctor had recommended that the food-and she hesitated to call it that-looked positively revolting. The Doctor caught her wrinkling her nose. “Oh, just try it!” he teased. “What’s the worst that could happen? Get a little bad taste in your mouth?”

She made a face at him, and picked up a two-pronged fork. She pushed the lumpy grayish-purple meat (was it meat?) around in the bright orange sauce. There were suspicious pieces of what Sara hoped were vegetables spread over the whole dish.

“I’m game,” she said, and worked up a mask of enthusiasm. She jabbed a grayish lump with the fork, and pushed it into the sauce. She brought it to her face, choosing to look at the Doctor instead of the food. As soon as the morsel slid past her lips, her eyes grew wide. “Oh. My. God. This is incredible!” She gasped. The meat was tender and rich in flavor, and the sauce was sweet. “Do you want a bite?”

“Sure, why not?” He picked up his own fork, speared a piece, and stuck it into his mouth. “Well, this isn’t what I thought it was.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“The dish I ordered for you-or at least what I thought I ordered for you-was something else entirely. What you’re eating is a bit more…exotic.” He said coyly, taking a second look at the menu. She swallowed the bite she’d been working on, and put down her fork.

“What exactly is it you’ve got me eating then?”

“The meat is from the Machreein bush,” he said mah-kray-ian, palatalizing the ‘k’ to make it sound phlegmy, “and the sauce is made from the blood of Gaffel trees.”

“Gaffel blood?” she frowned, “I thought you said they were sentient? Oh, they don’t…” a look of horror crossed her face.

“No, no; they don’t kill the Gaffel, the blood is harvested in the same way as the sap for maple syrup; pop a tap in-no worries.” The Doctor reassured her, and he could see the relief tempering her expression as she took up her fork again.

“That’s good, because I really don’t want to stop eating this.” She was still hungry, and the meal was amazing, even if it was made from plants-plants with meat inside them, apparently-she wasn’t going to let an amazing meal go to waste. “Gordon Ramsey, eat your heart out,” she said at last, “Bourdain would probably give up drinking for a chance to have this,” she motioned at the plate with her fork and resumed eating. She eyed the Doctor carefully; between bites of Machreein meat she spoke, “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she began, but thought better of continuing with food in her mouth, and paused to finish. As she chewed, the Doctor looked at her expectantly. I wish I knew what he was thinking, Sara thought to herself, gulping her food.

The Doctor stiffened in his chair a bit, and prepared for the probing questions about where he came from.

Did he ever go back?

No.

No? Then why doesn’t he?

Oh, I can’t go home again because I incinerated the entire planet, he thought.

But to his relief, the invasive questions never came. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about yourself,” she said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

“Well, what’s to tell?”

“I’ve already figured your name isn’t John Smith; never was. But how old are you? Did you have to get a degree or go to work for your government in order to time travel, or does everyone do it like it’s nothing?”

The Doctor smiled. This line of questioning was much better than some he’d had before. He mentally cringed at the memory of when he’d offered to take Martha to a planet of her choice. She had asked a particularly bad question. “Can we go to yours?” He shrugged away the wave of negative emotions, and forced a smile.

“Well,” he smiled, taking a sip of his beverage, “I’m just over 900 years old-909, actually-and no, I didn’t have to get a degree in order to time travel; a license maybe,” he tugged his ear and glanced away, giving Sara the impression that he didn’t have one of those. She shot him a knowing smirk as he leaned forward, then looked to either side of them, that familiar mischievous smile turning his lips upward knowingly, “As for the TARDIS, I just borrowed her, and off I went to see the stars; no government mandates necessary.”

Sara looked at him, “Borrowed?” she questioned. His tone implied euphemism, and she raised an eyebrow at the feigned look he gave her.

“I’m going to return it,” he said, “Eventually.” It was a lie, even if there were somewhere to return the TARDIS to, he wouldn’t.

“But you didn’t ask to take it.”

“Well, no-“

“And how long have you had the TARDIS now?” She probed, sipping her own drink to suppress a smirk, watching the Doctor fidget with his hands. He gave the back of his neck a rub, thinking.

“Ohhh, about 700 years.”

“You stole it!” she hissed playfully, waggling and index finger at him before stuffing another bite of Machreein meat into her mouth.

“Oi!” he protested.

She put her hands up defensively, “Hey! No judgments here,” she smiled, “not like I never stole anything.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” Sara grumbled through her food, swallowed, sipped at the opaque orange beverage in her glass, “Nothing as cool as a time machine,” she smiled, raising one eyebrow, “just odds and ends. My friends and I once liberated a few handicapped signs,” she was wearing her own mischievous grin now, “and I once shoplifted a pair of panties from a department store.”

“Better keep an eye on you then,” he winked. She smiled and blushed at the gesture. Why are you mentioning your panties? She scolded herself. She was drawn to him, and struggled to reconcile her attraction to him with the fact that they were two different species, and he-apparently-was more than 870 years older than her. The part of her that did all of the noticing was fooled by his human appearance, and wouldn’t let the issue lie, regardless of what the rational part of her thought. She watched him take a bite of his meal; something vaguely resembling French Fries. He noticed her eyeing his plate.

“Would you like to try a chip?” He motioned

“Can I?”

“Of course.” She took one purple wedge from the top of the pile on his plate, careful not to touch the others and carefully took a bite of it. Her eyes went wide. “This is amazing!”

“Best chips in this star system,” he told her, “fried in Lesthem oil.” She resisted the urge to grab more, and returned to her own meal.

They continued to chat, and the Doctor quite enjoyed it. This girl-woman-was quite different and he  found her unpredictable-well, as unpredictable as a human could be from his vantage of space and time-and in the most positive of ways. And he was thankful that she didn’t choose this meal to ask the difficult questions over. He knew it would come up eventually-and likely soon-it always did, and for him, it was like repeatedly picking a scab. But thankfully today would not be the day for that discussion.

The Doctor paid for the meal with something very much like a debit card, and the two exited the restaurant. The small Fentiernian sun was lower in the sky, and the stars were just a bit more prominent. “Next order of business,” The Doctor said, clapping his hands and rubbing them vigorously together. She half expected him to roll up his sleeves. Instead, he reached into the breast pocket of his overcoat and removed the small metallic device he’d used to free her in Hampton’s office.

“What is that?”

“Sonic screwdriver,” he said, reaching into the pocket again, this time re-emerging with a card identical to the one he’d used inside. He shined the blue light of the sonic screwdriver over the card, the pitch of its hum changed slightly. “There we are,” he smiled, handing it to her. “Spending money. Now, let’s get you to the shops!” he said, slipping the tool back into its proper place, and offering her the crook of his left elbow.

“Let’s!” she said, threading her right arm through it, resting her hand on his forearm. Sara felt much more at ease after the meal, and she walked arm-in-arm with the Doctor through the streets of the alien city like it was natural; as if that were exactly what she’d intended to do when she’d set out that morning. She was still awestruck by every little thing that caught her eye, but the feeling of this alien man-this stranger-on her arm somehow settled her.

“Why is everything in English?”

“It’s not.”

“Look right there!” She exclaimed, reading the signage aloud, “Budding Friends’ Emporium,” she said, “English.”

“That’s the TARDIS’ translator working it out for us; look again.”

Sara squinted at the sign again, and the familiar words were replaced by shapes and curves completely unintelligible to her.

“How does it do that?”

“Telepathic link.”

“Cool.” He was surprised by this nonchalance; Sara didn’t seem at all concerned that the TARDIS was kicking about in her brain.

“Shall we have a look in the little shop then?”

“Definitely.”

“Excellent. I love a little shop.” Once inside Budding Friends Emporium, they were both enamored by the trinkets that lined the shelves. “Look! Look at this!” he called over the display shelf giddily.

“Oh Doctor, these!” She called, pointing at an ill-fitting pair of moonglasses, “These, I have to have.”

“I’d better have a pair myself,” he said, coming around to her side of the display to pluck a pair from the rack.  “Too much exposure to Fentiernian moonlight can be quite bad for the eyes.”

After paying, the two left the store, each with moonglasses on their face and a bag of trinkets under one arm. Sara giggled and looked up at the sky. The stars were fading again, and when her eyes fell upon the single full moon peeking from between the sky scrapers, she stopped short, “Doctor!” She pointed. It was huge, still hanging low on the horizon. It was far bigger than Earth’s moon, perhaps ten times the size and tinted orange.

“That would be Estriid,” he said, savoring her joy, “that means Hexaat will be rising within the hour, and Tieramenaat within three.”

**

They explored the city, popping in and out of stores and pubs. Sara had insisted on consuming some intoxicants in one of those pubs, and after she’d bellied up to the bar and ordered some exotic-looking green beverage in a tall glass-her second drink-he felt that she was relaxed enough to be left on her own.

“I’m going to the shop ‘round the way. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she said. Her eyes were foggy with drink, but her smile was genuine. She turned to face the screen that hung behind the bar, and watched what looked like a sport as she sipped her drink.

**

The Doctor crept into a nearby alley and took out his sonic. He began doing sweeps, looking for evidence of something clandestine. Try as he might, he found no secret shafts, and no errant signals or transmissions. Hexaat was on the rise now; he had to get back to Sara before she wandered off and got herself lost.

When he returned to the pub, he found something very unexpected; Sara was sitting in a booth seat with a Hath and a White Man, laughing and exchanging jokes. Jokes! Some of them he was sure Sara didn’t understand the punch lines to, but she laughed right along with them all the same.

“Glad to see you’re having a good time,” he said as he approached the table. Sara was clutching a purple drink in a wide, stout glass this time, and he couldn’t help but cock and eyebrow when he saw it was nearly gone.

“Doctor! So glad you’re back. Look! I made friends!” she pointed.

“Oh hello!” He said enthusiastically, and the two creatures introduced themselves and gestured for him to join them. “Oh, certainly, thank you.” He said. A server approached and he ordered a banana daiquiri. He turned to Sara, “I’ll just have the one; Tieramenaat is going to be rising in a bit, and we still have to walk back to the park.”

One daiquiri had turned into three before they’d finally gotten out of the pub and began making their way back to the park. Presently, Sara was fighting to keep the weave in her step to a minimum, failing anytime she let her skyward gaze linger too long.

Her skin was flushed, and when she touched the back of the Doctor’s hand to get his attention, he could feel the added warmth her condition brought to her blood. “Doctor,” she said, “how will we ever see the three moons with all these buildings?” She sounded almost childlike in this state.

“You just wait,” he said, taking her hand gently and leading her back toward the park. The rabble of butterflies started beating their wings in her belly again, and she was silently thankful that her face was already flushed from the drinks. It was another twenty minutes before the park was in sight, and Sara was amazed at how clear her head had become. She still felt inebriated, but not on the same level or with the same sensation that she would have felt on Earth. Was it what she had been drinking? The air she was breathing? She meant to ask the Doctor, but now they were at the boundary of the park.

When they re-entered through the gates, Sara noticed that it had become considerably more crowded. Most of the crowd was facing south, admiring the orange light of Estriid. “Ready?” The Doctor said, pointing at the skyline. She turned just in time to see the entire landscape flicker. The buildings disappeared. Sara gasped. “Cloaking,” he grinned, “the Fentiernians revamped the system especially for today’s event,” but she didn’t gasp because the buildings had vanished, she had gasped because she could now clearly see Hexaat, which shone with the same color as Earth’s moon, and while it was dwarfed by Estriid it would still look like a colossus next to the moon Sara had spent most of her twenty-five years gazing up at in wonder. Tieramenaat was the most impressive of the three, not because of its size (it was the second-largest) but because it shone a pale, phosphorescent blue-green. She gaped and said nothing, and as the light of the three full moons swelled, the purple of the sky only became more brilliant, the stars disappearing from view altogether, and the onlookers bathed in the surreal light.

Sara took the Doctor’s hand in hers and squeezed. She hadn’t the presence of mind to debate the propriety of it, or to feel bashful; she was leaning her shoulder into his, not only to assuage the sudden need to just be close to someone, but also to keep herself from falling over. She couldn’t stop the tears; they rolled down her cheeks as she took in the scene in silence, her mouth hanging slightly open in awe. The Doctor squeezed her hand in return, and they stood that way for several minutes before Sara relinquished his hand and used her palms to dry her face.

“It was worth it,” she said, almost whispering, “Seeing this; it was worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“Nearly having my mind consumed alive by an alien,” she said plainly, sniffing. So she had kept up with me, he was hoping she’d missed that bit; he had taken it for granted that his frenetic, rapid speech could be hard to follow at times, but he was occasionally pleasantly surprised by moments like this. He turned to look at her; she wiped her hands on her t-shirt, and took his hand in hers again, finally tearing her eyes away from the sky.

“Thank you,” she said, staring into the Time Lord’s brown eyes. She pulled the words from the depths of herself, and as they left her lips, it was like pulling a well-established weed from a vegetable garden, the tendrils of emotion prickling throughout her as the words came to the surface.

This was not lost on the Doctor, but he only responded with a broad grin and a casual, “Don’t mention it.”

That was when Sara noticed the Gaffel trees; their massive leaves stood on end, swaying from side to side. Each cluster rocked rhythmically as one, like the members of a crowd at a rock concert all waving their lighters in admiration of a performance. The Gaffel trees were growing. They grew right before her eyes.

“Look at that!” By the time the Doctor had turned, the trees had sprung up two feet. Before his eyes, they sprung up another three.

“Ha!” he shouted, smacking his forehead, “How could I forget!?” He snapped to face Sara, “Oh!” and before Sara could ask him what was wrong, his face split into the widest grin she’d seen yet. “The trees aren’t growing,” he shouted in excitement, grabbing her by the shoulders, “They’re rising!” His voice picked up in tempo as he released his grip on her and began waving his hands about. “Every 625 years, at the three-fold full moon, the Gaffel trees rise; they mate, choose their new home; the place they’ll spend the next 625 years, and then go to seed.”

The Gaffels continued to extend, up, up, up into the air, leaves still rocking serenely in the light of the moons. When it seemed they would stretch on forever, she shifted her gaze to the bases of the Gaffel trees nearest to them; each trunk was swelling and splitting into bizarre tentacles. They whipped lazily about, and the cluster began to disburse. Impossibly tall trees shuffled all around the park. One came very near them, flicking its tentacles lightly all around them.

Sara clutched the Doctor’s arm. “It’s alright,” he told her, “it looks like you’ve made a friend.” A tentacle brushed lightly across her form. She felt a warm feeling pass over her.

“It’s the tree from earlier!” she giggled. She could sense it as an individual; feel its memories of their earlier encounter pressing against her own. She raised a hand to the searching tentacle and touched it. “Hello,” she said carefully. Again, she felt the strange sensation of its mind against hers. Was she really having a conversation with a tree?

“A gift? For what?” she asked it, puzzled. She turned to the Doctor, “It wants to give me a gift,” she said. Before she could ask him whether or not it was wise to accept (after all, what if gift-giving was how they chose a mate?), the whole Gaffel shuddered. “Oh no, you must be mistaken,” she said, flattered. After another moment, her look turned to concern. “Well, if you insist, I gladly accept.” She felt a bit silly sounding so formal, but she thought it right. Was there a wrong way to have a friendly chat with an alien tree? The tree shuddered again, and Sara knew to look up. A single leaf fluttered down from the canopy and enveloped her.

The Doctor heard her laugh and watched the fallen leaf bulge and shift as Sara struggled from beneath it. When she emerged, he expected a gleeful look. Instead, Sara wore a hard look on her face; it wasn’t hateful, but it was stern and very at home in her blue eyes; her jaw was tense, lips pursed, and her nostrils flaring. She returned the gaze to the leaf, and the hard look was gone again, replaced by wonder. It was a look the Doctor much preferred.

She eyed the leaf carefully, realizing it was the very same one she’d held earlier, in the same way she’d realized the Gaffel had been the same; the leaf was different though. It had been changed in the moonlight. It felt like a thick silk, and had a radiant shine to it (she’d realize later it looked nearly identical to the shine of Tieramenaat). The veins on the underside had turned silver, and as she inspected it, they receded into the leaf, leaving the patterned lines of brilliant color behind. What she now held was a leaf-which was no longer a leaf-the size of a king-sized duvet. The tentacle of the Gaffel reached out to her again, brushed her shoulder, and she raised a hand to touch it. “It’s beautiful,” she said to the Gaffel, “thank you.” She looked at the Gaffel tree as it withdrew, feeling its goodbye pressing against her brain. It moved gracefully and at surprising speed out of the park.

Sara whirled to face the Doctor, the hard look back in place. “That tree knew me. Not just from this afternoon. It said the Gaffel have been waiting…for two visitors and a blue box. Us!” She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight heavily to one foot. “You didn’t choose this planet just off the top of your head,” she said flatly, “you already had it in mind.”

The Doctor fidgeted, running his hand through his hair, squeezing the back of his neck, contorting his face into impossible shapes. “Welllll,” he said, face turned to one side, looking in her direction from the corner of his eye, “I received a distress call; a distress call transmitted from Fentiern by-I now suspect-the Gaffel. Yes,” he said.

“A distress call,” she said sharply, shifting her weight to her other foot, “Meaning danger.” The Gaffel leaf was draped over her arms like an oversized serviette. Her arms tensed and the shopping bag slung over her shoulder crinkled. She looked positively fierce.

“Yes,” he replied, looking her in the eye. What he found there gave away her real concern, and to his sadness, the seed of distrust.

“You asked me to come, knowing it could be dangerous, and you didn’t tell me?” She asked sternly, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. She peered at him over her moonglasses questioningly.

“That’s about the size of it, yeah,” he said, plastering on an uncomfortable smile and mussing the hair on the back of his head. What more could he say?

Sara slapped him hard and stiffly in the arm. “And when were you planning on telling me, huh? When some creature carted me off?”

“If you’re so worried about getting hurt, I’ll take you home now, if you’d like. At any rate, we should get back to the TARDIS; we can finish this discussion inside.” He shifted his eyes around to see several members of the crowd had noticed Sara’s little swat-if you could call it little; his arm did ache a bit-and were waiting expectantly for something exciting to happen. The Doctor turned and headed toward the blue box just a short distance away, Sara trailing behind. As he stepped up to the door and brought the key to its lock, Sara came to his side.

“I’m not worried about getting hurt,” she said. “I’m worried about being kept in the dark when it comes to my own safety!”

“You’re telling me that you don’t care that I’ve put you in harm’s way, just that I didn’t tell you that you’re in harm’s way.”

“Yeah,” she said, her anger diffusing. The Doctor arched an eyebrow and turned to look at her as he opened the door, and was surprised to see a big grin on her face. It was a bit of a relief, really.

“It’s funny,” she said, looking at his puzzled face, “You call yourself the Doctor, and I’m the one lecturing you on informed consent.”

“Well then, Sara Parker,” he said stepping inside the TARDIS, “will you help me get to the bottom of this plague? All life forms on Fentiern could be at risk. Ourselves included,” he said, sounding more excited than foreboding, and extended his arm out to her across the threshold.

Sara bit her lip and stood on the springy blue-green grass. She was thinking about the Gaffel tree, and worried about it suffering and dying from some horrible disease. She wondered if she could catch the diseases from this planet, and if she could, how horrible would it be? She glanced at the leaf in her arms, steeled herself-as she always did when she was afraid of what might come next-and put her hand into the Doctor’s. Instantly he beamed and tugged her enthusiastically aboard. His smile made her smile despite herself, and the heavy stone of fear that was now lodged in her gut began to dissolve.

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