Fight For Freedom |4| The Ascension

Chapter One: The Eleventh Hour

"Oi, give us a hand!" He reached down and helped a woman up to sit next to him. She was soaked to the skin, too.

"Whoa," he exclaimed, looking past her into the box. "Look at that."

The little girl frowned as the woman put her hand to her mouth, cringing. "Are you okay?"

The woman nodded, clearly lying. "Just had a fall. All the way down there, right down to the library. Hell of a climb up apparently, but I had the luxury of personalised transport." It was then that Amelia noticed the white feathery wings apparently attached to the woman's back.

"You're soaking wet," she pointed out, wondering if it was rude to ask about the woman's wings.

"We were in the swimming pool," the man shrugged.

Amelia frowned. "You said you were in the library."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Yep, and so was the swimming pool." She gagged, grimacing. "Actually, I think I drank half of it."

"Are you the police?" Amelia asked curiously.

"Why?" the man asked, instantly alert. "Did you call the police?"

"Did you come about the crack in my wall?" the girl countered.

"What crack - argh!" the man fell off the box and onto the ground, cringing in pain. The woman moved to his side immediately, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Are you all right, mister?" Amelia wondered.

"No, I'm fine," he assured her. "It's okay. This is all perfectly norm-" He was cut off as a breath of golden energy escaped from his mouth, making the woman turn away, gagging again.

"Who are you?" Amelia asked curiously.

"He doesn't know yet," the woman said, discretely taking his pulse while watching him fondly. "He's still cooking."

"Does it scare you?" the man questioned.

"No, it just looks a bit weird," the little girl shrugged.

The woman chuckled, then took a deep breath, making a face. The man frowned. "No, no, no, I mean the crack in your wall. Does it scare you?"

"Yes," Amelia nodded.

"Well, then," the man decided, getting to his feet with the woman at his side. "I'm the Doctor, she's the Angel. Do everything we tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off." He then walked straight into a tree, making his wife snicker.

Amelia looked at him oddly. "Are you all right?"

"Early days," he muttered, getting back up. "Steering's a bit off." Amelia led the way back into the house and he put his arm around his wife, concern in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Don't know," she mumbled, taking her visor off to rub at her eyes, grimacing. "I just feel a bit...nauseous?"

"My regeneration energy," he frowned, cupping her face. "It's making you sick."

She blinked in surprise, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks. "What?"

"Every time I've regenerated since I met you, you've been there. You've always been there. And every time, you've been ill afterwards. The first time, at Christmas, you were passed out for way longer than necessary. Then when that Dalek shot me last year, your body rejected the Metacrisis so violently..." He looked vulnerable as he remembered it. "I thought you were going to die." He shook his head. "And now it's happening again. I don't know what it is, but it's hurting you."