"No," Peyton says firmly, folding her arms.
"Peyton!" The Doctor gesticulates. "It's a great idea!"
"Uh, no. No, it's not," Peyton says, folding her arms and leaning back against the bank of Tardis controls by the railing. "I'm not doing it."
"Can you just listen to me?" The Doctor sighs, walking around the console to her. "She picks a place, I drop you both there and you two can finally get to know eachother."
"And what if something happens?" Peyton reasons with an eye roll. "I don't want to be responsible for her life."
"So we'll put you on Earth!" The Doctor twirls back around the console. "A safe year, there's plenty of those."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Oh, I'll stay here! I'll throw the Tardis up into orbit and then you give me a call when you're best friends and I'll come back down and get you."
Peyton glares at him across the flight deck. "Why are trying so hard to get me to like her?"
"Why aren't you trying at all?!" He fires back, slamming his hands down on the console.
Peyton doesn't say anything, looking away with a huff. She knows she doesn't have a concrete answer, or at least not one that doesn't sound slightly childish.
"It would mean a lot to me for you to get along," the Doctor says softly, his voice thick with regret for shouting at her. "She really wants you both to get along as much as I do. And I think you're only pushing her away cause you're scared to leave yourself open to lose anyone else."
Peyton freezes, not expecting him to say anything like that. The two have a history of being indirect with one another, especially regarding such sensitive matters as this. She looks up at him and realises how tired he looks. Those hazel eyes are dark and heavy, the weight of many years and so much more loss than Peyton could fathom. Her arms drop from her chest and she tries to form something to say, an arguement or anything else.
The Doctor takes a long breath. "I think it would really help you to let your fear go, and just, try."
"Okay," Peyton concedes with a fragile voice. "I'll try to be less defensive around her. I can't promise you I'm going to be her best friend."
"Thank you," he walks around toward Peyton again. "I know it's hard, but you have to let yourself be vulnerable with her, for yourself."
Peyton bites her lip, uncomfortable at the Doctor's words. Deep down she knows he's right, because when isn't he? But the wounds in her soul still ache and burn. No matter what he says is going to fix that. Maybe she's just stubborn, maybe she's just argumentative, but Peyton sighs before looking up to the Doctor. "Okay."
Without warning, the Doctor's long arms wrap around her shoulders and hold her close. Reluctantly, she brings her own arms up to the Doctor's back and steadies herself. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have other friends than just you."
The Doctor pulls away with a concerned frown.
"No, it was a joke," Peyton reassures him with a soft chuckle. "I have work friends, but they're not you, you know?" She punches him lightly in the bicep.
"Good," he smiles. "And it will do you good to have a boring, relaxing break, you know. Keep your stress low."
"What's wrong with my stress level? I'm not stressed," Peyton frowns at him.
"I, er, uh..." the Doctor splutters, evidently he had not meant to add that last part. "You just seem a little... tense. Lately."
Peyton's mind rolls back to the Russian submarine, her chat with the empath, and one rather intense game of chess with Benjamin Franklin.
Her anger had been out of line lately, she'll admit that. And maybe she is taking it out on Clara a lot as well.
"You might have a point," Peyton concedes.
"Okay, Peyton," he nods, patting her once on the cheek before spinning away to the controls. "Let's pick up our Impossible Girl."
• • •
Peyton rubs her waist through the tight corset, wondering how she was talked into wearing it.
"You two look lovely," the Doctor beams as his two companions return from the wardrobe dressed in fine Victorian dresses.
"I feel like I'm going to suffocate," Peyton complains, walking up the steps to the flight deck after Clara.
"Oh, I didn't tie it that tight," Clara says, twirling around the console, looking down at the dress as it lifts up gently. "I'm still sad you didn't let me do your hair."
Peyton reaches up to the back of her head where she had just pinned two pieces of hair back, incredibly simple compared to Clara's extravagant curled hairstyle. "Right, still not used to the whole dressing up thing."
"So, what are you two going to be up to?" The Doctor asks, preparing the Tardis for flight. "Spot of shopping? Picnic by the Thames? Try not to flirt with the nobility, nothing but trouble these days."
"I've always loved the idea of Victorian England," Clara smiles, running her fingers along the console. Peyton doesn't miss the side-eye the Doctor sends Clara's way. "The innovation, the poets, the dresses."
"Well, a week in yee olde London with Peyton coming right up," the Doctor says. "Just what the Doctor ordered."
"You sure you're not coming," Clara pouts, placing a hand on the Doctor's forearm.
"Oh, no, I'll let you two enjoy yourself alone. Go off and do... young things, I don't know. You don't want grandpa cramping your style," the Doctor flicks his coat back before placing his hands on his hips. "I was actually just invited to a little get together with the Queen of Salvarsania so I'll drop you and dash."
Clara grins excitedly toward Peyton who sends back a forced smile. This will be fine. Surely, what could go wrong?
The Doctor pulls the Tardis into a landing and the three of them rush over to the doors.
"Okay," the Doctor says as he leaves the Tardis. "So... not London 1893. Yorkshire 1893. Near enough."
"You're making a habit of this," Clara folds her arms. "Getting us lost."
"Sorry, it's much better than it used to be," the Doctor apologises. "I once spent a hell of a long time trying to get a hobby Australian to Heathrow Airport."
"Doctor, what are we supposed to do in Yorkshire," Peyton complains.
"Catch a steam train!" The Doctor replies as if this would be the most exciting activity ever. He steps over and tosses some small coins to Peyton. "Money for the fare. Now, you two run off, have fun, not too much fun and I'll meet you back here in a week?"
"Doc-"
Peyton doesn't bother as the Doctor runs back inside the box and she watches it disappear with Clara at her side.
"Right, this is exciting," Clara says rubbing her hands together. "How about that train?"
From somewhere a few streets away perhaps, a high pitched scream rings out. Clara looks up at Peyton with excited eyes.
"No," Peyton glares down at her. This is supposed to be a murder mystery, alien incursion, death free holiday.
"Come on, please? I thought it was your job to fly around and save people," Clara pouts.
A glimmer of curiosity in Peyton's mind flickers to life. She's right. Of course, she's right. "Fine. We'll make it quick."
With a cheeky smile, Clara grabs fistfuls of the front of her dress and dashed off in the direction of the woman's wailing.
They soon come to the embankment of the River Aire and see a small crowd gathered by the barrier.
"It's another one!" A man cries out, being restrained by a police officer. "Don't you see? Another victim. Why won't any one of you listen?"
"We'll listen," Peyton says, tucking her hands inside her skirt pockets.
• • •
"Mrs Winifred Gillyflower. Astonishing woman," Mr Collins explains as he leads Peyton and Clara to the gates of this so-called 'Sweetville'. "A prize-winning chemist and mechanical engineer. So why-"
"So why has she decided to open up a match factory in her old home town?" Peyton proposes as she peers through the wrought iron bars.
"And no one who ever goes to live there ever seems to come out."
"Not at all ominous," Clara scoffs.
"Thank you, Mr Collins," Peyton nods. "You've been very helpful. Now, that body in the river, would you know where to point two ladies in search of a mortician?"
• • •
"Same as the rest," the mortician's assistant says, as his master peels back the thin sheet covering his patient's face. "All dead from causes unknown and their flesh... glowing."
"Like something manky in a coal cellar," the mortician adds.
Peyton adjusts her gloves carefully before leaning over for a closer look. She had paid her and Clara's train fare to get in here, the owner wasn't keen on having two young women snooping around his business.
The woman on the table's skin is bright red and rock hard, her brown eyes staring lifeless lay at the ceiling.
"They keep turning up in't canal," the mortician says. "The Crimson Horror!"
"The Crimson Horror," Peyton repeats. "A tad fantastical, don't you think?"
"I think it's pretty enticing, like something straight out of an old Sherlock Holmes novel," Clara says.
Peyton takes another look at the woman's face, specifically the eyes. Those crystal eyes, but there is something else there, a faint shape like a shadow over her irises.
"Do you know the old Romani superstition, Clara?" Peyton murmurs. "That the eye of a dead person retains an image of the last thing it sees? Nonsense, of course. Unless the chemical composition of the body has been massively corrupted.
With a gloved finger, Peyton traces the woman's cheekbone and sees that her skin leaves red residue upon her cloth glove. Perfect,
• • •
"Wow, I mean, my goodness this is nasty," Peyton says, swirling a beaker of red solution in front of her face. "An organic poison. A sort of venom. You reckon this is related to Sweetville and the rather candy-apple cadavers?"
"How does a respectable woman such as yourself become an organic chemist?" The Mortician's assistant, who had since introduced himself as Mr Walker says scrutinisingly from the corner of the room, not at all answering her question.
He receives poignant glares from both Clara and Peyton, God she hates being in the past without the Doctor. Clara dutifully sold a beautiful gold bangle for the rights to use the room and equipment for Peyton's experiments which are currently laid out over several tables.
"I heard the University of London is accepting women now," he continues with unnecessary spite behind the word woman. "What's next, a woman Doctor?"
Peyton sighs. Today is not the day to punch a Victorian snob who genuinely just doesn't know better. "Mr Walker, do you believe this to be connected to Sweetville?"
"I do," he says curtly.
"Well, then, we need a plan, I'm pretty good with plans."
• • •
"It says here you're sisters?" Mrs Gillyflower says, glancing between the two women in front of her. "Miss and Miss Barrett."
"Yes," Peyton nods. They had spent two hours in the line for a meeting with Mrs Gillyflower after a stressful night with both Clara and Peyton crammed into one bed, apparently, people were coming from all over to apply for Sweetville and the hotel business is booming.
Mrs Gillyflower's concerned expression is not something she was expecting.
"Half sisters," Clara adds sweetly in a fairly decent Yorkshire accent. "My mother died when I was small and my father soon remarried."
Peyton shoots a brief glare out the corner of her eye to Clara who continues to smile most innocently. To be fair, it's a good cover story, but something in Peyton's argumentative brain wants to make some sort of snark at her. She is older anyway, why does Clara get to be the older sister?
"Well, girls," Mrs Gillyflower smiles contently, tucking the paper away. "You'll do very nicely."
• • •
"Sweetville will provide you with everything you will need," Mrs Gillyflower says as she leads the two around the gardens.
"Why do you get to be the older sister," Peyton hisses toward Clara, looking at the back of the old woman's head to make she doesn't notice.
"You won't have to worry about a thing... ever again."
"You really do find any excuse to be annoyed with me, don't you," Clara huffs, her voice low as well.
"I'm a century old, I've earned it!"
"The best of the best for all my residents."
"The Doctor said you were born in 2008 and travelled back in time to '95. I was born 1986, so I'm either three or twenty-two years older than you. Take your pick," Clara whispers aggressively.
"That's not how it works!" Peyton growls through gritted teeth.
"The name, Sweetville," Clara says to Mrs Gillyflower, ignoring Peyton.
"Yes?"
"Why not name it after yourself? After all, it's your creation."
"It is named in tribute to my partner."
"You're late partner?" Peyton asks.
"No, my... silent partner. Mr Sweet likes to keep himself to himself. Shall we move on?"
Peyton nods awkwardly before looking up to one of the houses they are passing. "Who lives here?"
"Oh, names don't matter here," Gillyflower chuckles. "All you need to know is that we only recruit the brightest and the best."
She pats Clara softly on the cheek before reaching over to open the door.
Peyton turns away from Clara's smug smile and peers into the doorway to see a perfectly pristine sitting room with an enormous bell jar taking up most of the room with two figures frozen inside, posed drinking tea as if they were straight from Madame Tussauds. A pump attached to the glass prison works feverishly to deliver air or maybe poison to its inhabitants while they pay the outside world no mind.
Peyton turns to run but men and women dressed in all black head towards them from all directions. She turns to look back into the room for another escape route but more Victorian ninjas appear from the doorways inside. Oh crap.
• • •
Peyton awakens to something hard under her armpits and scratchy fabric covering her body.
Her eyes snap open to find herself suspended on some sort of rack with five other unconscious souls above a vat of viscous red liquid.
Peyton's breathing quickens as she looks for a way out but her body refuses to move. The last thing she remembers is seeing the oncoming crones and Clara screaming out. They must have drugged them, but clearly didn't account for the higher potency Peyton required.
The rack begins to lower, the vat coming ever closer and closer until Peyton feels her feet become submerged. It's warm and thick but the knowledge that she's probably about to drown ruins any sort of pleasurable feeling it would give her.
Slowly, her body is engulfed in the fluid and as it reaches her chest, Peyton takes a large gulp of air and tries to angle her head as high up as she can.
• • •
Lying on the floor completely unable to move and still being conscious is not fun.
"Into the canal with the rejects, Ada," Mrs Gillyflower barks.
Peyton can see Clara standing in a row with many other girls, completely frozen as well, but her skin remains porcelain and light compared to Peyton's bright red hue. Evidently Peyton's Time Lord DNA had come in handy once again as the red liquid had not killed her but rather left her somewhere between the porcelain maidens across the room and the waxy patients in the morgue.
Something taps along the stone floor until it hits Peyton in the side. She lets out a small grunt in response.
A person above her lets out a small gasp before rough fingers brush over Peyton's. She tries her best to squeeze the hand, trying to let the person know that she's still alive and would rather not drown in the dirty canal.
• • •
"Sometimes, the preservation process goes wrong," Ada says as she snaps a shackle around Peyton's wrist. Where the hell did she get shackles from? "Only Mr Sweet knows why. And only Mama is allowed to talk to Mr Sweet. But if you're very good, you can stay here. You'll be my secret. My special monster."
• • •
Peyton hits her fist against the door weakly, the pain of moving is nearly unbearable.
Three days she had been here like this, unable to move, unable to speak, and her only company being a peculiar blind girl who brought her small amounts of food. Her 'monster', she calls Peyton. Where the hell is the Doctor?
She falls backward in exhaustion, her shackles clinking against one another. The Doctor won't be back for another two days and Peyton is unsure if she'll even still be alive by then. And Clara, she has no idea if she survived. If she's dead again, the Doctor might just lose it.
Ada keeps referring to those who passed the gooey process as preserved or even saved, Peyton holds onto the hope that whatever state Clara is in, she has survived.
Someone rattles the door handle. She looks up as best she can but it doesn't open, an intruder. Maybe it's Clara?
She crawls on her front toward the door as the steel hatch is pulled up. Peyton sticks her arm out with as much force as possible to find her hand come into contact with something warm, someone warm.
The intruder shrieks and drops the hatch, giving Peyton barely enough time to pull back before she loses her hand. From the sound of the voice, it's a woman, but not Clara.
"All right, mate," a gruff cockney whisper seeps through the door. "You just stay calm now."
That voice is familiar, but Peyton doesn't have many close friends in Victorian Yorkshire so she's not sure who it could be.
She lifts an arm to bang against the wall in agreement.
"I could open this door. Would you like that?"
Peyton tries a smile but her face doesn't move. Using her torso, she slams her hand into the wall again.
"Thought you might. But you and me had got to come to an arrangement, savvy?"
Another wack and her arm begins to ache.
"Now, you stand well back. Do you hear me? I don't mean no harm to you. But you try anything funny and I'll leave you here to rot. Is that understood?"
Two hits.
"Right."
Peyton tries her best to stand to her feet, her joints unyieldingly straight make it hard to do so. She rocks back and forth for a second until she can get her balance.
The door falls open very slowly until a woman dressed in all black pops her head in. The stranger's eyes raise to meet Peyton's and she recognises the figure. It's been a while since she's seen her, many decades in fact. But how could she forget her tied favourite Victorian lesbian detective?
She stumbles, clearly recognising her as well. "Peyton? What's happened to you?"
Peyton reaches out, unable to close her mouth, but she uses her eyes to look down to the pile of fabric on the floor where her dress lays.
"Can't you speak?"
Peyton groans in reply as Jenny lifts her fingers up to her face. She taps on her crimson cheek and her pale fingers meet the solid surface of her skin.
"Right, we're getting out of here," she gasps, grabbing her hands and picking the locks on her shackles.
• • •
After Jenny had jammed her boots back on Peyton's feet, she leads her down the stairs, her clothing under her arm. It's awkward and painful, Peyton tries her best not to cry out with each movement
"Come on," she whispers as the hallway lift clunks to a stop. Jenny's hand on Peyton's back pushes her to move faster as to not get caught.
They enter the dunking room as Peyton regains some movement in her jaw. They peer through a window into the chamber as a rack of bodies are lowered into the solution.
"Oh, my God," Jenny gasps.
Peyton turns her head away and spies a row of locker like chambers against the wall, the restoration chambers. She strains to pull her arm up to point Jenny toward them, she quickly obliged her.
"You want to go in there?" Jenny asks as Peyton reaches out for the handle as they get closer.
Peyton groans as best she can and Jenny nods, pulling open the door for her.
Peyton steps inside stiffly and tries to bend her elbows as best they can, with much effort, they give and Jenny places her clothes atop them.
Shakily, Peyton reaches into the skirt pocket and retrieves her sonic pen. With a grunt she activates it, pointing it at the ceiling as Jenny closes the doors on her.
• • •
With one last comb through of her hair with her fingers, Peyton pushes open the door to the chamber and steps out into the air.
"Peyton!" Jenny smiles.
"Long time, no see!" Peyton laughs as she pulls Jenny into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Peyton lets her go and reaches upward and then side to side, stretching out. Getting a corset on in that tiny space was a struggle but she managed it in the end, thankfully the chamber was accomodating enough.
"How did you end up here?" Jenny asks. "Where's the Doctor?"
"Who needs him?" Peyton says while she leans back to crack her back. "It's been a long time since we've seen each other Jenny, I've got everything under control... possibly. Now, right, Mrs Gillyflower! We've got to stop her!"
"Slow down, slow down," Jenny says, raising her hands.
"Sorry, being chained up will do that to you," Peyton shrugs before remembering something rather important. "And then there's Clara. I should probably find her. The Doctor probably wouldn't appreciate a wax model for a companion."
"Clara?" Jenny tilts her head.
"Yeah, I've been told you've met, now, let's go," Peyton turns on her heel and begins to walk off.
"Clara? Peyton, wait!"
"Can't, gotta find Clara or it's the Doctor that's going to kill me, not some cranky old crone from Yorkshire."
• • •
Peyton and Jenny walk carefully and quietly down the corridors of the Sweetville factory.
"What is that stuff, why is it making some people turn red?" Jenny asks.
"Deadly poison," Peyton answers. "And Mrs Gillyflower's been dipping her Pilgrims into a dilute form to protect them. Preserve them. The process went a bit wrong on me, maybe cause I'm a bit not human. I ended up on the reject pile."
"Preserve them against what?"
"Well, according to her, the coming apocalypse," Peyton rolls her eyes as she recalls what the crazy woman had said during her stay on the reject pile.
"When the End of Days is come and judgement rains down upon us all..." Jenny mutters in a distracted sort of voice.
"What?" Peyton frowns at her.
"Nothing," she brushes her off.
"No, no, what?"
"Something Mrs Gillyflower said," she explains. "One of her sermons. Madame will come looking for me. We'd best get on."
"Yeah, good thinking. But we've got to find Clara," Peyton nods.
"Peyton, you said I've met Clara," Jenny says, stopping in the hallway. "Are we talking about the same person?"
"Yes, well, kind of. Mostly."
"But Clara's dead. And, you weren't even here."
"It's complicated."
• • •
"Are we talking about the same person?" Jenny asks again as they continue their way out into the open air. "About the Clara I met last Christmas with the Doctor?"
"I couldn't see much from where I was but she survived the process," Peyton says, changing the subject. "She must be in one of these houses somewhere."
"But Clara died," Jenny calls out to her in a whisper as Peyton runs off to peer into a window nearby. "It was an Ice Lady-"
"I know, I know," Peyton raises both hands to tell her to quiet down. "It's... er... it's complicated."
Peyton dashes away to look into another window before Jenny can retort and finally spots Clara in a beautiful black and red dress and her hair freshly styled, sitting under a bell jar beside a man with a perfectly trimmed moustache.
"Peyton-"
Jenny runs into the room but cuts herself off abruptly when she sees Clara, clearly recognising her.
Peyton looks around the room, the only way to free her is to break the glass but that's going to be loud, and messy. Oh well, that's a problem for Peyton twenty seconds in the future.
She picks up a chair nearby and with as much force as she can, heaves it toward the glass which shatters immediately.
• • •
"Can she be revived, like you were?" Jenny asks as Peyton peers through the grate of the restoration chamber where she and Jenny had placed Clara.
"Well, I hope so," Peyton sighs, stepping away. "It would be an awful pain if it doesn't. This was supposed to be a girls trip."
Peyton fiddles with the gold ring hanging from her neck as her eyes stay glued to the chamber door. What was she going to do if this didn't work?
The sound of footsteps tears her attention away from Clara and to a posse of Pilgrims marching toward them.
"Oh, great," Peyton groans as several of them brandish wooden bats. "Attack of the supermodels. Time for a plan?"
"Nah, Peyton," Jenny says, reaching for the ribbon of her bonnet. "This one's on me."
She steps in front of the Time Lady and tears her hat and dress off, revealing a leather catsuit underneath. Peyton's eyes bulge as she struggles to figure out where to look before one of the men step forward confidently.
Unfortunately for him, Jenny grabs his arm and tosses him over her shoulder as if he wasn't a fully grown man.
She kicks him in the ribs and elbows two more Pilgrims who approach her.
"That is a plan!" Peyton smiles, very impressed.
Jenny smiles back at her, her back turned as the rest of the horde advances.
"Okay, time for a new plan," Peyton says, holding a hand out toward her. "Run!"
"SON TA HAH!"
The Sontaran war cry is followed by the bright light of a blaster going off over their heads, bowling over the pilgrims as they scatter.
Peyton and Jenny have pushed aside as a Sontaran soldier barges past them which would have been more alarming if the Doctor hadn't told her about Vastra and Jenny's rather potato-esque butler.
"Quickly! Let's go!" Madame Vastra calls from further down the hall.
"Yes! Just a second!" Peyton yells, standing on her toes to peer into the grate again.
"No, ma'am we're not escaping," Jenny backs her up. "We've got to help Peyton with Clara!"
Peyton looks over her shoulder to see Vastra looking at her curiously. "Yes, same Clara. Long story."
"What now, Madame?" Strax inquires. "We could lay down mimetic cluster mines."
"Strax."
"Or dig trenches and fill them with acid."
"Strax! You're over-excited," Vastra reprimands. "Have you been eating Miss Jenny's sherbet fancies again?"
"...No."
"Go outside and wait for me until I call for you," Vestra says.
"But, Madame-"
"Go!"
"I'm going to go play with my grenades," Strax mutters as he stomps away.
Peyton ignores the worryingly psychotic behaviour to scan the restoration chamber with her sonic.
"Okay," she says quietly. "I think she's about done."
She grabs the door handle and wrenches it open to reveal Clara standing perfectly still, almost like she's asleep.
"I know who you think she is, but she isn't," Peyton says to the two women behind her. "She can't be. The Doctor told me about his stay with you and how you met her."
"I was right then, the Doctor and Clara have unfinished business."
Without warning, Clara begins to fall forward but quickly, Peyton is able to brace herself to catch her.
She seems to be at least a little conscious as Clara's hands come to rest on Peyton's shoulders as one of her hands holds the shorter woman's waist and the other comes to rest upon her neck to take her pulse.
Clara's eyes flutter open and she looks up at Peyton, shocked.
"Hello, stranger," Peyton says, trying to push her upright but Clara seems to be quite content to stay leaning her full weight in Peyton's arms.
"Peyton!" She giggles before reaching up to tap her on the nose.
"Uh-huh," Peyton frowns, twitching her nose in confusion. Whatever chemicals restored her must have left her with a little high.
Peyton watches Clara's eyes move from her face to look over her shoulder. "Hi," she says, looking over to Jenny. However, when her eyes move over to Vastra, she freezes in shock. "What's going on?" Clara whispers.
"Well, where to begin," Peyton says, finally managing to get Clara to hold her own weight. She notices Clara's eyes are firmly on Vastra. "She's a lizard."
• • •
Together, the four walk through the Sweetville mill quietly and cautiously. Peyton and Vastra lead the way and Jenny and Clara take up the rear.
"You have grown an awful lot since we last met, Miss Peyton," Vastra says.
"Well, it's been a while. A century with the Doctor will do that to you," Peyton shrugs.
"I'm sorry, about what happened to your friends Amelia and Rory. I know you were very close."
Peyton doesn't answer, she just nods, knowing that going into it is only going to distract her from what needs to be done.
"My people once ruled this would as well, you know," Vastra says, noticing Peyton's reluctance to continue the conversation. "But we did not rule it alone. Just as humanity fights a daily battle against nature, so did we. And our greatest plague, the most virulent enemy was the repulsive red leech."
"He doesn't sound too friendly," Peyton says, slowly to a halt as Vastra does. "The Crimson Horror is catchier I think. What was it exactly?"
"A tiny parasite. It infected our drinking water. And once in our systems, it secreted a fatal poison."
"Well, if it's been hanging around, lurking in the shadows, maybe it's evolved. Maybe it's even had help," Peyton murmurs, pulling out her sonic pen and tapping it against her chin thoughtfully.
"Peyton, I've been thinking, the chimney-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Way past that now," Peyton brushes Clara off. "Gross red parasite from the time of the dinosaurs pitched up in Victorian Yorkshire. I didn't see that one coming when the Doctor organised our girl's holiday."
"Yeah, but the chimney!"
"But what's the connection to Mrs Gillyflower," Peyton continues without noticing Clara. "'Judgement will rain down on us all'..."
Peyton turns to pace, trying to think, on her way back she looks up to Clara who is giving her an annoyed expression.
Peyton stops in her tracks. "An empty mill," she murmurs.
Clara grabs Peyton by the shoulders. "A chimney that doesn't blow smoke."
Peyton casts her eyes toward the ceiling as the realisation kicks in. Oh, that's good.
"Okay, I'll give you that one," Peyton rolls her eyes
"Missed me?" Clara bats her eyelids prettily.
"I was actually starting to get used to the peace and quiet," Peyton snarks.
"Oh, you're coming around to me, aren't you?" She smiles hopefully.
"Don't hold your breath."
• • •
Peyton and Clara sneak through the mill while Jenny and Vastra take another route. But as they enter the room, the sound of soft sobbing alarms them.
"Who is that? Who is there?" A broken voice calls.
Peyton turns to see Ada in the corner, sitting atop a crate and crying. She sighs and walks over to her, bunching up her skirt before crouching down in front of her and taking her hand, looking up into her scarred face.
She gasps at the touch but Peyton rubs her hand soothingly. "It's okay." She places Ada's hand onto her cheek carefully so that she can realise who she is.
"You. It's you!" Ada says, elated, placing her other hand on Peyton's face as well. "My monster. You've come back you're..."
"Warm, and alive," Peyton says. "Thanks to you, Ada. You saved me from your mother's human rubbish tip. Now, hey, what's wrong?"
"She does not want me, monster," Ada sobs. "I am not to be chosen. Perhaps it was my own sin, the blackness in my heart, that my father saw in me."
"Ada, no, that's nonsense. Stupid, backwards nonsense, and you know it," Peyton argues, righteous anger bubbling beneath the surface. How could someone cast out their own daughter?
Peyton brushes a thumb along Ada's scars curiously, they're so vicious, how on Earth did she get them?
"What is it?" Clara asks.
"Who is that?" Ada jumps.
"I'm...I'm a friend of hers," Clara says, crouching down beside Peyton.
"Then you are fortunate, indeed. It isn't good to be alone," Ada says through a trembling voice.
"Ada, would you mind telling me something?" Peyton asks, she takes a breath and channels as much energy as she can into her words. "Who is Mr Sweet?"
Ada whimpers and shakes her head. Peyton knits her eyebrows together. Her charm had never failed on anyone before. Why Ada? She looks into her glassy white eyes.
"No, no, I cannot betray mama, not even now."
"Okay," Peyton says, standing to her feet. "Then can you come with us? There's something you should see."
• • •
Peyton bursts into Mrs Gilliflower's tower to the sound of her chuckling.
"You do seem to keep turning up like a bad penny, young lady," Mrs Gillyflower chides.
"Force of habit," Peyton smiles cynically, shoving her hands into the pockets of her dress.
"Can I offer you both something? Tea? Seed cake? Oh, a glass of Amontillado?"
"No thanks," Peyton shakes her head. "We've had a skinful already as you might say."
"Ha! Very funny," Mrs Gillflower glares.
"Hmm, yeah. I'm Peyton, you're nuts, and I'm going to stop you," Peyton says, walking past her and admiring her rather ominous looking switchboard.
"I'm afraid Mr Sweet and I cannot allow that," she apologises.
"Yeah, okay. Would it be impolite to ask why you and Mr Sweet are petrifying your workforce with diluted prehistoric leech venom?" Peyton asks, turning back to her.
"So, when do we get to meet him?" Clara asks from across the room, having wandered off. "This silent partner of yours? Why's he so shy?"
"Mr Sweet is always with us," Gillyflower says cheerily.
"You seem to have a very close relationship, you and your pal."
"Oh yes, Miss Barrett, exceedingly close," she whispers, walking past her. "Symbiotic, you might say."
Peyton looks over her shoulder to see the old woman turn back to them and tear away the front of her dress to reveal a small red.. thing, clinging to her chest.
Peyton frowns in disgust as it lifts its tiny head to reveal two pitch-black eyes and a circular mouth full of teeth.
"Peyton, what is that?" Clara asks, frightened.
"A survivor," Mrs Gillyflower answers instead as she sits down at the table and picks up a small bowl of diced fruit and begins offering it to the creature. "He has grown fat in the filth humanity has pumped into the rivers. That's where I found him."
"Very resourceful," Peyton comments, folding her arms.
"His needs are simple. And in return, he gives me his nectar."
"Mrs Gillyflower, you have no idea what you're dealing with!" Peyton warns, stepping toward her threateningly. "In the wrong hands, that venom could wipe out all life on this planet!"
"Do you know what these are?" Gillyflower asks, presenting her hands toward the two intruders. She laughs. "The wrong hands!"
She gets to her feet and walks over to the switchboard, and pulls a lever down on the side.
Peyton jumps to her feet as the should of cogs grinding and chains clanking in the walls grows louder and louder. She rushes over to the window where she can see the chimney stack towers lighting up. She hopes that Jenny and Vestra were able to secure the venom before that thing takes off.
"Planning a little fireworks party, are we?" Rule seven, stay in control. If you're not in control, act like you are.
"You have forced me to advance the Great Work somewhat, Miss Barrett. But my colossal scheme remains as it was. My rocket will explode high in the atmosphere, raining down Mr Sweet's sweet venom onto all humanity."
"Wiping us all out! You can't!" Clara yells, storming forward but Peyton places herself in her path.
"My new Adam and Eves will sleep but for a few months before stepping out into a golden dawn. Is it not beautiful, Miss Barrett?"
Peyton lets out a sarcastic huff before walking toward her slowly. "What I would like to know, Mrs Gillyflower, is where Ada sits in your grand plans, hmm?"
"What?"
"Your daughter," Peyton reminds her. "You do remember her, correct? Tell us about your daughter."
"How can you speak of such trivia when my hour is at hand?" She says, appalled. "The child is of no consequence."
"Is that why you experimented on her?" Peyton asks, sitting down in a beautiful chaise lounge.
"Experimented?" Clara raises an eyebrow.
"The signs are all there," Peyton keeps her eyes downcast, fearing her anger to rise up. "The pattern of scarring. You used her as a guinea pig, didn't you?"
"Oh, my stars!" Clara murmurs, appalled.
"Sometimes, sacrifices must be made," Gillyflower asserts.
"Sacrifices?" Peyton snaps, leaping to her feet, letting the hot rush of rage wash over her.
"It was necessary! I had to find out how much of the venom would produce an anti-toxin. To immunise myself! Don't you see?"
"Your own daughter!" Peyton rages. "How could you hurt your own flesh and blood? She trusted you!"
"It was necessary!"
Peyton breathes heavily and deeply. She wants to lunge forward and, and... hurt her. The tingle of excitement rushing up her spine at the thought is enough to knock her down a notch. Her blood chills as she realises exactly what she was just thinking, what she almost did.
"Mama?" Ada's soft and broken voice pulls Peyton out of her spiral just enough so that she can straighten up. She sees Clara looking at her with a concerned and frightened expression out of the corner of her eye. "Is it... is it true?"
"Ada!"
"It is. It's true. True!"
"Ada, listen to me-"
"You hag!" Ada screams, charging forward. "You perfidious hag! You virago! You harpy! All these years, I have helped you, served you, looked after you. Does it count for nothing? Nothing at all?"
She wields her walking cane and begins striking her mother.
"Stop, stop!" She cries but Ada is unyielding.
Glued to the spot, Peyton stares at the debacle. She tries to fight it, but that feeling, that sadistic excitement creeping up her spine seems so tempting to divulge. The idea that Ada might just rip her mother to shreds frightens and elates her. What is happening?
Clara steps in front of her, wielding a chair, aiming it at the switchboard.
"What are you doing?" Peyton frowns.
"Saving the day, you seem a little distracted."
With a grunt, Clara launches the chair at the glass portion of the switchboard, jamming the legs between the cogs behind it, triggering a shower of sparks to rain down on them.
"No!" Mrs Gillyflower shrieks.
"Well... That worked," Peyton says rather surprised. She turns back to Mrs Gillyflower, who has been relieved from her daughter's attack. "I'm afraid your rocket isn't going anywhere, Mrs Gillyflower."
"Please," Mrs Gillyflower whimpers. "Come to me, Ada."
Ada sobs as she complies, walking forward into her mother's arms.
"Oh, my child. You have always been so very... useful!"
Mrs Gillyflower holds Ada by her shoulders and points a pistol at her head.
"What are you doing?" Peyton raises her hands, looking between the two Gillyflowers anxiously.
"Please, Mama. No more. No more."
"And now, if you'll please excuse us, we must be going," Mrs Gillyflower says, turning and opening the door behind them. "It is long past Ada's bedtime!"
The door slams behind them and Clara rushes to the door.
"No, no, don't, Clara," Peyton warns "if we follow straight after her, she'll shoot Ada on the spot."
"She wouldn't!"
"Like I said, nuts," Peyton spins around and spots the chair stick sticking out of the switchboard. Well, it's the only other way out. She grabs it and turns back to Clara, still holding it over her head. "Chairs are useful."
Clara gives her a confused frown before Peyton spins on her heel and launches the chair at the window looking out onto Sweetville.
"You know, I used to this you were the sane one," Clara says in a high pitched voice. "I'm rescinding that now."
"Come on," Peyton scoffs, holding a hand out toward her. Clara walks over and delicately places her hand atop of Peyton's with an eager smile.
• • •
Peyton races up the metal stairs around the rocket, Clara following close behind.
"Just let her go, Mrs Gillyflower," Peyton. Calls as the two Gillyflowers come into sight further up the staircase. "Let Ada go!"
"Secondary firing mechanism, Miss Barrett," Mrs Gillyflower says, tapping a metal panel on the brick wall with her pistol. "Mr Sweet and I are too smart for you, after all."
"Just let your daughter go, Mrs Gillyflower," Peyton reasons.
With a groan, Ada launches herself from her mother's grip and stumbles down the stairs toward them.
"Ada!" Mrs Gillyflower yells, cocking the pistol and pointing it at her daughter.
"Shoot, if you wish, Mama," Ada cries. "It is of no matter, for you killed me a long time ago."
Peyton tries to rush forward to protect her but Gillyflower shoots the bricks above her head, causing her to cower back.
"I'll labour night and day!" Mrs Gillyflower sings as she opens the panel to reveal the mechanisms behind it. Peyton takes this opportunity to grab Ada around the waist and pull her behind herself and Clara to protect her. "To be a pilgrim!"
She pulls the lever down and the rocket engine fires to life and a tidal wave of heat washes over them.
Peyton grabs Clara and Ada and pushes them up against the wall with herself shielding them as the rocket launches mere feet from them.
"Now, Mr Sweet," Mrs Gillyflower says as Peyton leans back to watch the rocket rise higher and higher in the night sky. "Now the whole world will taste your lethal kiss!"
In doing so, Peyton spots two figures on the stairs above them and smiles.
"I think you may have to reconsider your doomsday plans, Mrs Gillyflower," Peyton laughs confidently.
For a second, Mrs Gillyflower looks confused but then she follows Peyton's eye line to see Vastra and Jenny holding her jar of precious venom.
"Very well, then," she spits. "If I can't take the world with me, you will have to do. Die, you freaks! Die!"
She raises her pistol towards Jenny and Vastra who place down the jar before Vastra steps in front of her.
"Put down your weapon, human female!" Strax's voice echoes through the tower.
Peyton squints upward to see the Sontaran aiming his blaster downwards.
Mrs Gillyflower, determined as ever shoots her pistol up at Strax but misses. Strax retaliates with a single blaster shot which takes off the section of railing the old woman is leaning against.
"Oh, dear," Peyton gulps as Mrs Gillyflower lets of a shrill scream as she topples toward the ground. "Ouch."
• • •
Above their heads, the rocket explodes in the sky, but nothing but debris will fall now, hopefully, most of it landing in some unfortunate farmer's fields.
The assembly on the stairs looks back down to Mrs Gillyflower and Ada on the floor below.
"What are we going to do with that thing?" Jenny asks.
Peyton sighs. "Well, I guess the Doctor would say we should take it back to the Jurassic Era. Keep it out of harm's way."
In the train of thought, she almost misses Ada slowly get to her feet and tap her cane along the floor. That is until, the young woman begins violently striking the parasite with it, yellow guts and gore flying everywhere.
"I guess, that works too," Peyton shrugs.
• • •
"You have grown into a fine young woman from the child you were when we first met," Madame Vastra smiles through her veil as she places a hand on Peyton's shoulder.
"Thank you," Peyton bows her head. "And thank you all for taking care of the Doctor for all those years."
"It was our pleasure," Jenny nods. "And if any of you need anything again, you know where to find us."
"Of course." Peyton looks down at her watch and then to the alleyway behind them. The Doctor should be here any moment now.
"Yes, in the meantime, be sure to get eight hours of sleep and obtain your daily nutrients every day," Strax adds.
"It's been lovely meeting you all," Clara smiles as the sound of the Tardis whirring to a halt fills their ears.
"And it was lovely to meet you," Ada replies.
"Hello girls, oh, and assorted company," the Doctor calls, barrelling out of the Tardis.
He regards the Paternoster gang with a nod and sends a small wave Ada's way, which she doesn't see, but it's the thought that counts.
As he approaches, he looks worriedly between Clara and the small crowd.
"Well, how was your week?" He asks inconspicuously.
"It was fun. Nothing to report," Clara lies sweetly. Peyton can't help but smile with a roll of her eyes.
"Good day, Doctor," Vastra says.
"Vastra, Jenny, Strax! Long time no see."
As he talks to the three, Peyton turns to Ada who has been standing quietly to the side in lovely new clothes they had bought for her. "Now, Ada, I'd love to stay and clear up the mess, but-"
"I know, dear monster, you have things to do," she says.
"And what about you? What are you going to get up to?"
"Oh, there are many things a bright young lady can do to occupy her time. It's time I stepped out of the darkness and into the light."
"Good luck, Ada. You know, I think you'll be just splendid," Peyton says, lifting her hand rub her shoulder.
"Alright, Clara," the Doctor says. "In the Tardis, you go, I just want to speak with these three for a moment longer."
Clara sighs but walks off in the direction of the Tardis but she lingers in the doorway. "Hey, Peyton."
"Mhmm?"
"We make a good team, you and I."
"Whatever you say," Peyton shakes her head, watching Clara enter the Tardis and disappear from sight.
"Well, I'm very curious, what's that?" The Doctor asks, peering past the group to where the jar of red liquid sits on the cobbles.
"It's a long story, I'll tell you it later," Peyton says with a knowing smile toward Vastra and Jenny.
"Right, well, lovely seeing you. Have some Pontefract cakes on me. I love Pontefract cakes," the Doctor nods cheerily. "See you around, eh?"
The Doctor turns to wander back up to the Tardis but Jenny steps forward to call out to hun. "But Doctor, that girl. She's Clara, but that doesn't make any sense."
"Well," the Doctor frowns, glancing toward Peyton. "It's also a long story."