The crash in the other room simultaneously frightened and intrigued the stowaway.
There it was: a glimmer of hope in the darkness. If someone had survived- anyone- then maybe there was a chance. A chance that they could get out of this place.
Being relatively young in age- or so they felt- the stowaway imagined this new individual as someone mature; someone more capable than themselves to get them back to the ground of whatever the nearest planet was. Maybe they were mature enough to actually think of a plan themselves, as opposed to pressing a big shiny button in the hopes that a legend from time gone by would reveal themselves and whisk them away to somewhere more happy, and less shrouded with imminent death.
Footsteps. The passenger was moving. It was at this point that the stowaway questioned the morals of the passenger. What if it was one of those... things that had performed the massacre. They moved with the same rhythmic pace, the same heavy steps. All that was to follow would be the monotonous voice and the stowaway's fate would be sealed.
Yet, they were ready. If it was a person of moderate intellect without a programmed need to kill, they could help each other to navigate deep space and find a planet to land on. If it was another machine, then none of that would matter. A simple hand placed on their shoulder from the machine would send a deep electric shock through their system and they would be dead in an instant. Then they would no longer need to debate their own demise- or the potential prevention of it- because it would all be over. And it would be a relief.
But it wasn't another metal man.
Frail, weak, and hobbling over at the same desperate speed as the stowaway, the stranger revealed themselves from around the corner. The stowaway was unsure what they were expecting; some superhero that could whisk them away, but whatever it was, this was the opposite. This individual was small in stature, with no overwhelming presence- so much so that the stowaway began to doubt that this person was new. Maybe they had spotted them after the massacre- they couldn't remember anymore- but they likely wouldn't remember even seeing them.
They continued to walk over, ambling towards the stowaway with a beaming smile plastered across their face. As they got closer, they extended an almost skeletal hand out for the stowaway to shake. They would have done so gladly, if it weren't for the fear that they would snap their hand clean off. And that would definitely not be the first impression that the stowaway wanted to give.
Despite the broken appearance, the passenger spoke with strength. A deep-rooted, internal need for survival that was innately buried within them.
'Meredith Earthset. She/her. I'm so glad to see you.'
[-]
There wasn't an awkward feeling in the room after the kiss, as you had expected there to be. After the moment had passed, you worried that the two of you would just... sit. Probably in silence until one of you spoke with the sole purpose of breaking the tension. But it wasn't like that.
It was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. With a quick encouragement, the Doctor was ready to face the room on the other side of the TARDIS doors. He clasped his hand tightly around yours and guided you out towards the suffragette.
'Right! Team! I've got a plan.'
'A plan?' Jack replied.
'Yes! A plan. The plan. You give me a suffragette held hostage with a conveniently engineered typewriter and I give you the greatest plan the world has ever seen!'
The Doctor strides quickly over to the typewriter. Pulling the paper out of the machine, he flipped the sheet and clearly displayed to you the words printed on the bottom.
The End
'She's finished! Finally she's finished! Dorothy? Dorothy, can you hear me?'
Four distinct clicks.
Yes.
'Ahah!' the Doctor laughs. 'I thought so! Coma patients. They can hear everything going on around them, yet can't respond to a word of it. If only we had a magically convenient typing machine hooked up to the brain of our suffragette. Oh wait, we do! How fantastic! Completely and utterly fantastic! Now, Dorothy. How did this happen?'
The familiar clicking sound of the typewriter sparking into life once again followed the Doctor's question as the entirety of the party crowded around the printing paper.
The Messrs Bennett transported me back to 1770 via the Angel. For the last 150 years I have been trapped here. Occasionally placed into stasis to preserve my body while my brain prints the books. There's been a catch in some of them, though. It's easier to tell you. Doctor, use your screwdriver to sever the wires in my head.
The Doctor frowned. 'I thought of that. I can't point the sonic's energy at the sides of your head, there's too much radiation in the light. It'll cause brain damage.'
Not necessarily.
'It's too much of a risk. I can't even attempt something so intricate. You could die Dorothy.'
Either that or this. Do it.
Reluctantly, the Doctor stepped towards the suffragette, sonic poised in his trembling hand. You placed your hand on top of his wrist and steadied the shaking. He gives you a reassuring nod before delicately lifting the wires with his little finger. In short, quick blasts, he carefully breaks the link between the woman and the typewriter. One after another, the wires dropped into the Doctor's hand and were immediately drained of their luminescent quality. Their life had ended.
As the last wire fell, the Doctor stepped back hopefully, expecting a large, animated gasp to invade Dorothy's lips as she once again sparked into self-sufficient existence. But nothing came.
She lay there, limp. Lifeless. And the Doctor began to panic. He spoke erratically, frantically pacing the room and spouting about how 'this was supposed to work' and 'it was all his fault'.
Footsteps.
Heavy, booted footsteps climbing the steps to the warehouse floor. The old floorboards creaked under the foot of the intruder. The familiar click of a metal cane quickly signified the presence of one of the Messrs Bennett.
Before any one of the trespassers had a chance to evade discovery, the junior Bennett was at the top of the stairs. The four of you froze- eyes darting from one person to another as you stood without guidance on what to do now.
'Well I'll be damned.' the man spoke. 'Aren't you a curious find. Illegal trespassers on such a classified property as this ought to know better.'
'What, than kidnapping and holding a woman hostage?' you speak quickly, overcome with a surge of uncharacteristic adrenaline.
He replied condescendingly. 'Ooh, how feisty,' he comments, turning his attention to the men in the room. 'Control your woman.'
Jack steps forward defensively. 'Alright, that's enough.'
'And an American as well? How diverse! I'll remind you you're the criminals here.'
'Are we? You see our increased knowledge of this situation could have you arrested, if we went to the right people. Like the police. Oh, what a coincidence! I happen to have a direct line to them right here!' the Doctor spouts, indicating towards the TARDIS.
'How interesting. You believe you threaten me. Your words are empty, traveller, for you forget my experience with time travel. I know a TARDIS when I see one. Your threats do no harm. Besides, the police are as corrupt as they come. They have known of this business for as long as it has been established.'
'Of course they have.' you muttered under your breath, earning a raised eyebrow from the junior Bennett, who you recalled being referred to as Edward.
'What's your motivation, anyway?' the Doctor asks. 'Wait! Don't tell me, I'll get there. 1770. A year of unimaginable potential. Enlightenment ideas are starting to spark over in France, and the rest of Europe is heading into the romantic period of literature. The best time to be a writer because the industry is growing faster than daisies on Darillium. But! If you want to benefit from the writing industry you need a writer! And who better to sell your works than a time travelling oracle with an extraordinary memory and an inability to say no because she's a woman in 1770!' he pauses for breath, turning back to Edward Bennett as he finished pacing the room. 'That's why you took her. You saw an industry on the rise and you struck while the iron was hot.'
'Very clever, Doctor. Clearly we have succeeded.' Edward gloats. He uses his cane to prod the lifeless wires on the floor. 'You may have severed the wires from her head, but as you can see you have failed to wake her. What a shame you shall have to suffer the same fate.'
'What?' Cyril asked from the corner, where he had began to shake a little since Edward had walked into the room. His words came out with a slight stutter.
'Oh yes. We can't have you all walking the streets of whatever time you're from exposing the secrets of our trade! We'll be ruined! So I shall have to dispose of you. Or at least find someone-'
'Edward!'
The sound of an angry yelling filled the rickety stairway. The emotion the voice possessed was enough to shake the building, and with its temperamental structure you feared it may come crashing down. As the footsteps drew nearer, the room turned to face the source. From the corner of your eye, you spotted the Doctor over with a slowly stirring Dorothy.
'You took your time.' he whispered a little passive-aggressively.
'I'm an oracle, Doctor. I knew Edward was climbing the stairs, and we'd all be in bigger trouble if I had moved. Now go!' she whispered back as he held her arm and helped her hobble back into the TARDIS. He quickly assumed his former position just in front of you, and as the door of the blue box silently closed the room looked the same as it had when the voice had first been heard.
'Where is she? Where is that blasted girl?' the voice shouted up once again and you could tell this time that it was the senior Mr Bennett. 'You've really put your foot in it this time, boy!'
He reached the top of the stairs, a little breathlessly, and fagged his finger in annoyance at his son as he lent against the banister for support. It snapped off in his hand, and he threw it angrily in the direction of his son.
'She's changed the books.' Mr Bennett uttered through gritted teeth. 'She's changed the books, and the course of history. Where is she?'
'She's busy. Hold on, she's what?' the Doctor asks, and for the first time Mr Bennett acknowledged the other people in the room. He didn't seem bothered- his own stakes were higher.
'The Picture of Dorian Gray? The book she wrote last week? It was supposed to be published 20 years ago! Not only that, originally the book was supposed to be about... Dorian Gray was suspected to be...' he made a face of visible disgust as he refused to even say the word.
'Gay.' you finish for him, your tone flat.
He looks you up and down and rolls his eyes. 'Quite. She took it out. Mr Wilde was supposed to be sent to Reading Gaol! He was-'
'Hang on.' the Doctor interjected, as he often did. 'She saved Oscar Wilde from imprisonment by altering his book slightly. Oh brilliant! Just brilliant! This must have been the catch she mentioned earlier.'
The Messrs Bennett craned their heads towards the Doctor in unison.
'Well, it is,' the Doctor continues. 'You've created one hell of a spike in the Sacred Timeline. And all I'm saying is the TVA never miss.'
As if on cue, a glowing rectangular portal appeared in front of the Messrs Bennett. Three armed guards dressed in black stepped through, one carrying something that closely resembled a lantern. The Doctor signalled for Cyril and Jack to join Dorothy in the TARDIS, and did the same to you after a brief pause.
'Go. I've got this handled.' he winked, before turning your shoulders towards the box. Jack extended his hand to you with a smile, and as you drew closer he draped it loosely around your shoulder.
'Ernest and Edward Bennett, on behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Sacred Timeline. Hands up. You're coming with us.'
The guards ushered the men through the portal while they protested with flailing arms and screams of injustice. The Doctor nodded at the final guard knowingly as he entered the TARDIS once again, leaving the room as a veil of coloured light sparks from the lantern and all misplaced objects vanish, the blue box following close behind.
[-]
'Hey,' you start, catching the Doctor alone for the first time in a while. Dorothy and Cyril had been rightfully returned to their shop, and Jack had fallen asleep in one of the many rooms in the TARDIS. After a while of looking for him, you gave up and joined the Doctor at the control panel. 'Are we going to talk about what happened?'
He nodded slowly, his eyes still on the control panel, both hands planted at its base. 'Yes, I think we should.'
'We kissed- you kissed me.' you hesitate, your words stumbling over one another.
'I- yes, I did.' When you don't reply, he speaks again. 'Should I not have done?'
'No! No. You should. Definitely should. You've just been quiet. I thought you might regret it.'
The Doctor looked up, and for the first time you felt he was actually looking, rather than simply turning his head in your general direction. 'Of course I don't regret it. It's just... new. This face hasn't felt this before. New faces, new bodies, new... ways of processing things. I'm not quite sure how to do the romance thing yet, but I'm learning, and you're helping me.' He paused. 'No, I don't regret it. Not at all. The day I first saw you at the wedding I knew there was something about you. Something... intriguing, something I hadn't seen for a while. You had that spark. The 'Rose' spark.'
Again, he stopped. Before you sensed he had paused to gather his thoughts and find the right words to say, but now he paused to stop himself from crying.
'I try not to talk about Rose. Every so often her name comes back to me, and it hurts. I think- I think she really loved me, and I think I might have loved her too. She made everything feel... safe. Calm. Happy. She made me forget. But now she's gone. Stuck in a parallel world with a part-human version of myself, and she's happy. Or at least I hope she is. What I'm trying to say is [Y/N], you're this face's Rose.'
For as long as you'd known the Doctor, he'd been subtly mentioning Rose to you. He always had a sad look in his eyes when her name came up, and you hadn't wanted to rip open a wound before it was time. The Doctor's willingness to share this with you physically warmed you, and gave you a familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach. He trusted you. You were this face's Rose. The Doctor watches you process his words, a slight hint of anxiety scanning his face as he tried to gauge your reaction. You said nothing, and simply wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close to you.
'I've never had a Rose.' you say as you separate. 'I don't know whether that because there was no one in Leadworth to find or I just didn't look hard enough, but I never found anyone like that. This is all new for me too, only I don't have the excuse of a new face. Just new feelings. But we can learn together.'
'Together. Of course we can.'
He leans down to kiss you as he has done before on the steps of the TARDIS, and everything around you was gone. For that moment- that one, seemingly insignificant instant- the world melted away. You had exposed yourselves to each other, and that was all the other needed. All you needed at that moment was each other, and that was more than enough.
Parting lips and resting your foreheads together, you stared deeply into each other's eyes.
'Of course we can learn this together,' you smile, glancing up towards the faded brown photo pinned to the TARDIS' monitor. 'We had the most devoted couple we know teach us.'