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Title: The Noble Girl – The Unquiet Dead

Rating: T

Author: tkel_paris

Summary: Jenny's random joke possibly triggered the TARDIS to take them to the Victorian Era. The historical aspects – and the clothes – are amazing, but they weren't expecting to actually see Charles Dickens surrounded by ghosts. At Christmas. Written and posted for cassikat's birthday.

Disclaimer: Hugely AU. So no, I own nothing. Also, involves racism and other nasty things.

Dedication: cassikat, of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D And tardis_mole and bas_math_girl, for beta-reading.

Author's Note: This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

Everyone has had the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from Who, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character...

Also, working on this fic made me realize how sheltered the companions who were – well, not of a “different race” appears to be the term even though I don't like using it – were. As if Mickey didn't have enough to deal with in canon; being ignored by his girlfriend for one, the Press that denied his place as the first Black companion, being called an Idiot when he was only playing the fool (which actually makes two things), then he chose to escape the girlfriend by going to a world that had to be at least as intolerant as the one he fled from, and who knows what he dealt with while Rose tried to work that Cannon. Here, I have faced the ethnicity issue head on and... well, read on. You may want a pillow to punch at times, as I have kept it true to the era in which this episode was set. Fair warning.

And as always, please review first with the idea that this was New Who airing for the first time. Then compare. :D Oh, and make sure you've read the whole series, starting with "Jenny". It'll help. A lot. ;D

And this chapter includes a blink and you'll miss it jab at Rose's costume for the canon episode. Just for full disclosure.

Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO – How Good Is His Driving?

Mayhem was the polite word for what was happening. The whole ship was shaking and alarms went off all over. Even beeping ones. Smoke seeped from the Controls. “Hold that one down!” the Doctor shouted at Mickey.

Mickey would've glared at the Doctor if he dared to look away from the levers he was handling. “I'm holding this one down!”

Well, hold them both down!”

Oi!” Jenny shouted over the noise. “Just get us safely somewhere!”

The Doctor spared a frown at her. “Oi! I promised you a time machine and that's what you're getting. Now, you've seen the future – let's have a look at the past.” He glanced at the controls, thinking quickly. “1860. How does 1860 sound?”

Fine by me,” Jenny answered snappishly.

Mickey blinked. “What happened in 1860?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I don't know, let's find out. Hold on, here we go!” He moved over to handle the lever, and the TARDIS went screeching through the time vortex. The two humans flinched over the noise.

Sneed patted his face with a cloth, trying to get his composure back while standing in the small room. “Gwyneth! Where are you, girl? Gwyneth!”

A young woman came in from outside in a servant's uniform.

“Where've you been? I was shouting.”

She looked at him in dismay over his tone. What had she done to earn such? “I've been in the stables, sir, breaking the ice for old Sampson.” The horse's sounds could be heard.

He moved forward. “Well, get back in there and harness him up.”

“Whatever for, sir?”

“The stiffs are getting lively again.” That drew Gwyneth closer as he continued, “Mister Redpath's grandmother, she's up and on her feet and out there somewhere on the streets. We've got to find her.”

“Mister Sneed, for shame. How many more times? It's ungodly.”

“Don't look at me like it's my fault. Now, come on, hurry up.” He moved past her. “She was eighty-six. She can't have got far.”

“What about Mister Redpath? Did you deal with him?”

He paused. This was not pretty. His words came out slowly. “No. She did.”

She approached. “That's awful, sir.” She paused briefly, trying to find the words that needed to bew spoken at last. “I know it's not my place, and please, forgive me for talking out of turn, sir. But this is getting beyond, now. Something terrible is happening in this house, and we've got to get help.”

“And we will, as soon as I get that dead old woman locked up and safe and sound.” He started pointing at her with a finger. “Now stop prevaricating, girl. Get the hearse ready. We're going body snatching.”

After what felt like an eternity to Mickey in particular, it felt like the TARDIS slammed against something – despite staying upright. All three of them fell to the floor as the controls released steam from the journey. Mickey wondered if that was supposed to happen – ever.

The Doctor lay on the floor laughing. Jenny shook her head. “My god!” she cried as they got up. “That's worse than a rollercoaster!”

Mickey shuddered. “Blimey!”

You're telling me!” the Doctor exclaimed, beaming. “Are you both alright?”

Jenny and Mickey glanced at each other, and nodded. “Yeah,” Mickey said for both of them. “Nothing broken...although I'm not promising we won't have bruises.”

Did we make it?” Jenny wondered. “Where are we?”

The Doctor spent a moment studying the screen. “I did it! Give the man a medal. Earth - Naples - December 24th, 1860.” He folded his arms in triumph and looked at their reactions.

Jenny laughed and shook her head. “Full of yourself even after all that mess, aren't you?”

The Doctor decided to pretend he didn't hear her. He focused on the screen instead.

Mickey blinked, wrapping his mind around what he'd heard. “It's Christmas Eve out there?”

The Doctor grinned and gestured towards the door. “All yours.”

Jenny looked at Mickey, and frowned at his expression. “You all right?”

He nodded numbly. “But, it's like... think about it, though. Christmas. 1860. Happens once. Just once, and it's gone. It's finished. It'll never happen again. Except for you, Doctor.” He studied their alien friend intently. “You can go back and see days that are dead and gone and a hundred thousand sunsets ago... No wonder you never stay still.”

The Doctor shrugged, not even bothering to hide his grin. Decent description of what he did. If simplistic. The young man was warming up to him even if he wasn't aware of it. “Not a bad life.”

Better with friends,” Jenny said.

They all grinned at each other for a few moments. Even Mickey was becoming caught up in the excitement. He clapped his hands together. “So... 1860. Can we go dressed like-?” He stopped himself, and paled slightly. “Is it even safe for me to go out there?”

The Doctor thought a long moment, suppressing his urge to snort. Mickey was raising a important point. “Well, if you go out there dressed like that, you'll start a riot, you two!” He pointed off to the side, looking either there or at them. “There's a wardrobe through there. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, it's the fifth door on your left. Hurry up! And there'll be separate changing rooms. No funny business in my ship!”

Jenny scowled. “Oi! I'm not even legal! Besides, we promised to wait until we're married.” She observed his suddenly smug grin. “You're taking this adopted dad thing a bit seriously, aren't you?!”

The Doctor's grin didn't change. “Aren't dads supposed to be protective of their girls?”

She groaned. “Maybe I didn't think that one through. Still, it's not like we're ready for anything!”

Mickey raised a hand. “Um, excuse me? The clothes are one thing, but they won't hide this.” He gestured to his own skin. “Won't I stand out like a neon sign? And I've read about the 19th century. They might think I'm a thief or a workman!”

The Doctor sighed. Mickey had read his history quite well. Perhaps too well, but he clearly had his reasons. “I have ways of handling that. Not going to be so pleasant to deal with, but it will work. Now go on then!”

Jenny rolled her eyes and dragged Mickey off. The Doctor smiled after them. It had been too long since a companion or assistant dressed for the era.

Old Sampson and his partner pulled the hearse slowly down the street, black feathers on their heads. Sneed looked around. A few people stood around in the snowy street, and a couple walked arm in arm together toward them. “Not a sign. Where is she?”

“She's vanished into the ether, sir. Where can she be?”

Sneed drew the carriage to a stop. He waited for her to look at him, and quietly demanded, “You tell me, girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gwyneth, you know full well.”

He was right, and she knew it. Her eyes widened. “No, sir. I can't,” she quietly begged.

“Use the sight.”

She hesitated. “It's not right, sir.”

“Find the old lady or you're dismissed.” He knew that would make her cooperate. “Now, look inside, girl. Look deep. Where is she?”

Gwyneth closed her eyes a moment, lowering her head. Within seconds she looked up again as she opened her eyes. It came out slowly. “She's lost, sir. She's so alone. Oh, my lord. So many strange things in her head.”

“But where?” Sneed could have done without the rest. The where was the vital thing.

“She's excited... about tonight. Before she passed on, she was going to see him.”

“Who's him?”

Awe crept into her tone. “The great man. All the way from London. The great, great man.”

A man with thick hair and a beard that parted at the chin knocked on a door and promptly opened it. “Mister Dickens, Mister Dickens. Excuse me, sir, Mister Dickens. This is your call.”

Mr. Dickens, with a thick head of hair and copious facial hair himself, had his eyes closed and was resting his head on a hand. He wore his dressing gown in a gold pattern over black fabric. The sight was enough to draw the man inside. “ Are you quite well, sir?”

It stirred the great man. “Splendid, splendid. Sorry.” He knew he sounded as exhausted as he felt.

Time you were on, sir.”

He stirred himself into motion, but needed to stay seated a bit longer. Although he gathered himself into a more authoritative posture. “Absolutely. I was just brooding. Christmas Eve. Not the best of times to be alone.”

The man had folded his arms during the short speech. “Did no one travel with you, sir? No lady wife waiting out front?”

Dickens looked away. Despite the slight smile, there was no humor in his expression. “I'm afraid not.”

Teasing, the man leaned forward. “You can have mine if you want.”

He adjusted in his seat. “Oh, I wouldn't dare.” He noted that the man lowered his arms in surprise, but continued nonetheless. “I've been rather, let's say, clumsy, with family matters. Thank God I'm too old to cause any more trouble.”

“You speak as though it's all over, sir.” The horror couldn't be hidden.

“No, it's never over.” He looked at the sign for the show, which also drew the man's gaze as he checked to see what Mr. Dickens looked at. It was was readable from where the man stood said, almost entirely in capitalized letters and in a variety of sizes:

Taliesin Lodge
Friday, December 24th, 1869
Mr. Charles Dickens
His Many and Sundry Works
Free Performance
To Honour the
Children's Hospital
Extension of Time By Special License

Dickens mused aloud. “On and on I go, the same old show.” He pushed himself to his feet, leaning over his borrowed vanity to pour himself a glass as he added, “I'm like a ghost, condemned to repeat myself for all eternity.”

“It's never too late, sir. You can always think up some new turns.”

“No, I can't. Even my imagination grows stale.” He quickly swallowed the contents as the younger man watched in alarm. “I'm an old man. Perhaps I've thought everything I'll ever think.” He put down the glass and drew himself to perform. It made the man go for the dark jacket as Dickens removed the dressing gown to reveal a matching vest. “Still, the lure of the limelight's as potent as a pipe, what? Eh?” He let the man help him put on his jacket, and then he paused to look at his reflection. “On with the motley,” he muttered, leaning forward to set something into place before he walked toward the door.

While he waited, the Doctor handled more repair work with the Sonic Screwdriver below the Controls. He knew that there would be some explanation required soon, but he was prepared to deal with it.

Mickey slowly walked in. He was wearing a wool frock coat, unbuttoned which showed off his smart livery over a black waistcoat and matching jacket and trousers. His leather black shoes were polished to a shine. He grimaced over the layers, and the appearance they presented. “Are these supposed to fit like this?” That question he asked aloud. The other, was he what it looked like he was, he asked with his eyes.

The Doctor turned his screwdriver off, pushed himself to standing at the same level and examined Mickey's appearance. He nodded grimly in answer to the silent question, and assessed the other for a moment. “Hmm. Got it right. The TARDIS left you instructions, or did you figure it out on your own with that genius-level IQ?”

Mickey blinked. “Genius-level?!”

Yeah. You didn't realise?”

Um...no. I figured most of it out myself, but found a computer screen to help with the rest.”

The Doctor nodded, pleased with the answer. “Good thing I'm around to make sure you use your brain to its fullest extent then. Not that Jenny would let you play the fool.”

But what about-?”

Oh god!” Jenny's shout bounced off the walls. “Now I know why the women's liberation movements started. They must've gone mad having wear things like this, not to mention being short on air!” She emerged in a dress that she thought must have been designed for Cinderella. It was silver on white silk brocade with Royal-blue accents paisley pattern embroidery, reaching to but not hiding the Royal-blue sandals (the TARDIS' term, whilst she would've called them slippers) on her feet. Over her dress she wore a silk-lined Royal-blue velvet jacket robe, the tail neatly aligned over her bustle and ending with a collar and cuffs that matched her dress. The effect rendered her more beautiful than usual, not that she noticed given the constraints the dress imposed on her.

The Doctor and Mickey looked at her in surprise. Mickey's jaw dropped.

The Doctor blinked in shock. “Blimey!” The word escaped him before he knew it happened. He was certain the TARDIS would give her something lovely, but to go and give her something that expensive by the century's standards?!

Jenny liked Mickey's awed reaction. That was always a powerful feeling for a lady. The Doctor's reaction puzzled her. She knew she looked more like a princess, which was not fun given how much she hated playing princesses as a little girl. So she decided to mess with the Doctor's head. “What? What am I dressed as? A Prossie?!”

No! No, that's a perfectly respectable dress for the times. It was later that the all-black look took over.” It dawned on him that she was joking, so he took a deep breath to regroup. “You look like a young woman of the upper class. The clothes will get you anywhere, but while we don't want you mistaken for aristocracy – believe me, you don't want that – those clothes could make you seem almost like a princess. But what I meant was that it makes you look beautiful!”

Jenny and Mickey frowned.

The Doctor suddenly frowned and looked away awkwardly, settling his gaze on the younger man. “Mickey, you had better stay right next to her. The young human males of this time will try to steal her away, and that's putting it politely. I will not voice the worst that could happen. I see I should've given the TARDIS instructions to not make you look the absolute best a human could look.”

Jenny laughed. “I assume that's a compliment... if a bit backhanded.” She scowled over his clothing. “Aren't you going to change? You told us to!”

He was indignant. “I've changed my jumper! Come on!”

Wait, Doctor!” Mickey caught their attention. “Haven't you noticed that my skin's a bit different than Jenny's? Won't I be instantly nabbed or something worse?”

The Doctor sighed. “No, you won't. I'm sorry, but I have to hide you as my manservant, my valet, to protect you from being nabbed and whipped, and that's at best. You do look like a respected one, so anyone looking at you would know you were in the employ of a wealthy person and hold an important position within the household. Which means any action against you would be a grave offence to your employer.”

Mickey groaned. “So let me guess: no making eye contact, no talking unless I'm talked to first, don't correct my betters and especially not in public, and keep to your side at all times. Anything else?”

Well, address me only as needed. As long as you act according to what people expect. I couldn't have you wear a perception filter. I wear one myself. It makes me blend in to wherever I am.”

Jenny glanced at the angry but recovering Mickey. “Wonder how well it works?” she whispered aloud.

The Doctor pretended he didn't hear that. “So, off to see 1860!”

Oi!” cried Mickey as the Doctor moved toward the door. “You, stay there! You've done this before. This is mine, and I think it falls within my 'duties'!” He hurried towards the door and opened it for Jenny.

Jenny looked out upon the winter wonderland that the street outside displayed. She slowly stepped into the untouched snow, making a slow progress and eyeing her footprints. Mickey and the Doctor followed her. The former was feeling the excitement and awe that she was despite his cover, and the latter was delighting in their reactions.

Ready for this?”

Jenny nodded eagerly, and Mickey nodded more sedately, wishing he could offering her his arm. She sighed. “Wish you were more our chaperon, Doctor,” she teased, her sense of humour recovering just a little. She was glad to see Mickey crack a tiny smile.

The Doctor laughed and moved so Jenny could take his arm. She smiled slightly, accepting. “Here we go,” he declared. “History!”

And they walked off together, with Mickey on Jenny's other side and trying to look like he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. Despite the sour note, the humans were ready to explore the world around them.

Although they both started to wonder if Naples ever got snow, even at Christmas.

Inside the theatre, the red curtains were drawn and Charles Dickens stood still a moment before he walked out onto the stage. He was pleased to see the entire crowd burst into applause. Good to know he was still appreciated. He stepped from the raised area down to the main part of the stage, standing beside the podium.

He didn't notice that one of the audience was a dead woman. She was the only one not applauding.

The trio walked down the windy street, observing everything – Jenny and Mickey in utter awe, the Doctor with his usual grin on his face. The carol singers nearby, singing “The Tidings of Comfort and Joy” brought many memories back for the young couple. “I once sang that at Christmas with my gran,” Mickey murmured.

Jenny however, was caught up in a memory...

It was Christmas Eve service. Jenny was less than four months away from being five, an age she was looking forward to. For the first time, she was allowed to attend the late service, and she felt like a big girl. Her gran and gramps were on one side, her mum on the other. Both sets of great-grandparents were also there in the same row, but her gramps' were getting tired easily. She had a feeling that her family wasn't telling her something. What she wasn't sure of. Yet.

She loved Christmas. The lights, the snow (when it fell), the smells, and the food were all fun. Maybe not quite as much fun as finding presents under the tree from her family, but they were nice.

The singing she liked even more. She could read all of the songs, and she loved the sounds created when lots of people were singing them. So getting to be part of it was a treat.

She was singing along with Hark, The Herald Angels Sing when she noticed her mummy wasn't singing at all. Her eyes were so sad, and she stared straight ahead at the choir.

Keeping up her own singing, Jenny looked at the rest of her family. They were also keeping their eyes forward, although they were all singing too.

Jenny grabbed her mummy's hand and squeezed. Her mummy looked at her, blinking away tears before wiping them away. With her eyes, she asked what was wrong even while she kept singing. Her mummy smiled sadly, and joined in at last.

It didn't ease Jenny's concerns. She was going to ask as soon as the service was over.

Mummy?” she asked as soon as they were outside.

Donna visibly braced herself. “Yes, love?”

Why are you so sad at Christmas?”

Donna exchanged a look with her parents that Jenny couldn't figure out, and then Donna knelt to look Jenny in the eye. “I just wish you had a bigger family to celebrate with. That's all.”

There was a firmness that Jenny knew to not challenge, but she worried anyway. “You don't hate Christmas, do you, Mummy?”

No.” Laughing through her nose, Donna slowly smiled. “I want you to have a happy time, my treasure. You love Christmas, so I'll make sure you have that experience.”

Despite sensing that her mummy wasn't telling her the real story, Jenny grinned, giggling and hopping in place. “Can we make snow angels, Mummy?”

You should be going to bed.”

But it's Christmas Eve!” She pleaded with her puppy eyes.

Donna laughed and nodded, letting her daughter tug her along to find an empty space.

The Doctor noticed that Jenny was seeing and yet not seeing her surroundings. He could feel a memory of happiness within her, but couldn't detect anything else. The emotions, yes, but nothing else. He could usually read a little off a companion's thoughts, but Jenny's seemed naturally well-shielded. Another oddity about her.

Nearby, the hearse stopped. Gwyneth nodded at the theatre. “She's in there, sir. I'm certain of it.”

Right,” Sneed said quietly, and they both slowly got off the open carriage.

A news seller caught the Doctor's eye, providing a wished-for distraction, and he led them toward it. Jenny noticed, coming out of her trance, as the Doctor bought a newspaper. Mickey wanted very much to snicker under his breath. Or say, 'And what did a Time Lord need a paper for? Can't detect everything with those superior senses?'

The Doctor unfolded the paper and quickly read it as he led them across the street. He forced his face to remain impassive as he absorbed the reality. “I got the flight a bit wrong.”

Jenny scoffed. “Well, that explains why you were late coming back from that recharge trip. What did you get wrong? Location, year, what else?”

He read on carefully. “It's not 1860, it's 1869.”

She shrugged. “Okay, not too off considering. Within the right decade.”

And it's not Naples.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, keeping the lids mostly closed so no one saw. “So where are we?” He asked it so quietly that only they could hear him, but kept his head tilted to not clue in as much that he was talking.

It's Cardiff.”

Now the humans blinked. They looked around. “Shouldn't Cardiff look different than this?” Jenny wondered aloud.

The Doctor shook his head. “The Welsh didn't start making their own culture apparent again until during the twentieth century, Jenny. This is the height of British power over the conquered lands.”

Mickey exhaled sharply. “All hail the empire,” he muttered darkly.

The Doctor shrugged. “Empires aren't very nice things. I've seen it far too many times.”

I bet,” Jenny murmured.

Dickens was in the middle of giving a reading from A Christmas Carol to his spellbound audience, one hand on the podium as he aimed to add to the drama of his already powerful words as his eyes slowly flickered from one area of the audience to another. “Now, it is a fact that there was nothing particular at all about the knocker on the door of this house, but let any man explain to me if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without it's undergoing any intermediate process of change, not a knocker, but Marley's face. Marley's face!”

It drew the appropriate murmurs from the audience.

“It looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look. It looked like...”

He trailed off as he noticed one old woman's face glowing bluish. It seemed like her head was giving off a faint gas.

He struggled for words. “Oh, my lord. It looked like that!” He pointed a shaking finger without thinking.

The audience turned to see, and those nearby drew back in horror.

“What phantasmagoria is this?” Dickens nearly cried aloud.

The corpse rose smoothly to her feet and looked upward, groaning as blue gas escaped in tendrils from her mouth. The audience screamed and began to flee.

The trio outside heard it, and so did anyone else. Many people, and the sound of people running like the devil was upon them. Or, Jenny thought as she recalled the previous moments around the Doctor, like some being or beings they didn't understand were about.

The Doctor grinned. “That's more like it!” He tossed the newspaper over his shoulder and ran toward the screaming. Jenny and Mickey followed, Jenny trailing behind a little despite her usual abilities. She would have been completely behind them if Mickey had not stayed by her side. The dress with its laced whalebone corset was not meant for running – which was one more point for modern times.

The blue gas kept coming from the corpse and began flying around the auditorium. The audience continued fleeing as Dickens tried to restore order, holding out his hands. “Stay in your seats, I beg you. It is a lantern show. It's trickery.”

“Excuse me,” Sneed murmured at the crowd pushing past him, trying to see.

Gwyneth pointed. “There she is, sir!”

“I can see that. The whole blooming world can see that!” They tried to push their way forward.

Outside a policeman was blowing his whistle.

Inside, Dickens kept staring as it traveled in a strange flowing line upward.

It felt like a long time to Mickey before they entered what appeared to be a theatre. There was no doorman to stop Mickey from entering, not that the Doctor would have stood for it since he said he wanted the human man around for Jenny's protection. He followed the Doctor, holding on to Jenny to help her move more quickly, and they froze. Coloured gas zoomed around the room. It seemed to have a face and was screaming. He and Jenny stared in amazement and then growing alarm.

The Doctor was naturally awed and pleased. “Fantastic.”

Mickey was ready to ask how this mayhem could be so wonderful when he realized that the gas was coming from the mouth of an old woman. The last of it left and she slumped down into the chair. She seemed lifeless. “Is she dead?”

He barely noted the two people who approached her.

The Doctor shrugged and approached a man with a beard. He was standing on the stage, the only person who hadn't fled. His clothes were clearly those of well to-do gentleman, a master craftsman, possibly establishment owner, since his hands did not bare the markings of a man who worked with his hands. That instantly set him aside as a writer or mid to highbrow entertainer, possibly a reader or a poet. “Did you see where it came from?” the Doctor asked from the floor, looking upward.

Jenny and Mickey followed, and saw the man glare at the Doctor. “Ah. The wag reveals himself, does he?”

The Doctor was struck by his presence at once. His accent definitely set him apart from the locals. He wasn’t even Welsh. He was very distinctly a Londoner, Standard English, well-educated.

I trust you're satisfied, sir!” he riled, not in the least giving him the vantage of the compliment.

The Doctor was taken aback. It seemed no matter how many times he was blamed for things he didn't do, it never blunted the sting.

Jenny looked back to see an elderly man dressed in black garb, making him possibly an undertaker or a doctor, someone who dealt with the dead or dying, and a young woman in a maid’s smock, apron and bonnet making off with the old woman's lifeless form. “Oi! Leave her alone!”

They didn't hear her. Or they were ignoring her. Either way, it didn't sit well with Jenny. Didn't people rob graves in these days? Or even kill to create medical cadavers? She ran after them, yelling over her shoulder, “I'll get 'em!”

The Doctor didn't like her running off. “Be careful! Mickey, go with her!”

He didn't need to be told twice. “Yes, sir!”

Trouble was there was still a large crowd, even though it had thinned out significantly, and somehow Jenny was pushing her way through it. He had to get through without getting knocked down or hit. And Jenny was managing to move faster than she should've been able to in this crowd.

As the young man rushed away and hopefully protected by his uniform, the Doctor jumped onto the stage to join his latest accuser, who backed off slightly. He didn't even notice the other man standing off to the side of the stage, staring in as much shock as anyone and yet staying in case he was needed. “Did it say anything? Could it speak? I'm The Doctor, by the way,” he added, looking up at the creature.

The man looked the Doctor over. “Doctor? You look more like a navvy.”

The Doctor spluttered. “What's wrong with this jumper?”

Jenny found the two loading the old woman into the back of what looked like a hearse. She caught up with them. “What're you doing?!” she shouted, noting the man behind the woman.

The maid tried to block her from looking inside. “Oh, it's such a tragedy, miss.” Her accent placed her as firmly Welsh, specifically Cardiff. 'Don't worry yourself, me and the master will deal with it.”

Jenny pushed her aside, reaching for the old woman's forehead. The maid tried to prevent her while the man moved around the other side. “The fact is, this poor lady's been taken with the brain fever and we have to get her to the infirmary.”

Jenny shook her head. “She's cold... Oh my god, she's dead!” She whipped around, shocking the maid into backing off. “What did you do to her? What are you doing with her?!”

Unfortunately, Jenny's ability to immerse herself into the moment meant she forgot about the man. He suddenly reappeared, clamping a cloth over Jenny's mouth and nose as he grabbed her. She briefly registered the sickly sweet smell, and tried to hold her breath as she kicked the man, trying to shriek when she couldn't hold in the air any longer. Although she managed a kick to the gonads, the man didn't let go of her she also lost the battle against unconsciousness and passed out.

What did you do that for?” Gwyneth protested.

Sneed had no remorse for his actions. “She's seen too much. Get her in the hearse. Legs.”

Chapter Three: Cover Stories and Foul Wind


Aug. 13th, 2013 06:45 pm (UTC)
I've always thought that the TARDIS had a wicked sense of humor! I can so see her offering up that outfit, knowing that Rose had neither the good sense or the sophistication to realize the joke. And the Doctor, being the bloke that he is - even as Nine - wouldn't get it either! :D

Jenny in that dress and in this series reminds me of the Princesses in "Shrek the Third" when all of them go commando to Led Zepplin's "Immigrant Song"!

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