This is different than any way I've written "Blink" before. Let me know how you like it!

***

"Remember," the Doctor said as they exited the taxi, the Alchemist with a longbow in her hand, Martha with a quiver of arrows on her back. "We get in, Alice shoots, and - "

"Doctor!" a woman's voice called, and surprised, they all turned. "Alchemist! Doctor!"

"Hello!" the Doctor greeted the breathless blonde woman that ran up. "Sorry, bit of a rush. There's a sort of thing happening. Fairly important we stop it."

"My God, it's you," the blonde gawked. "It really is you! Oh, you don't remember me, do you?"

"I think we would," the Alchemist eyed her.

"Doctor, we haven't have time for this," Martha insisted. "The migration's started!"

"Look, sorry, I've got a bit of a complex life," the Doctor told the woman. "Things don't always happen to me in quite the right order. Gets a bit confusing at times, especially at weddings. I'm rubbish at weddings, especially my own."

"Is that why we're still not married?" the Alchemist raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, my God, of course!" the blonde smacked herself in the forehead, making the Alchemist blinked. "You're time travelers! It hasn't happened to you yet! None of it! It's still in your future!"

"What hasn't happened?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"Alchemist, please!" Martha shouted. "Twenty minutes to red hatching!"

"It was me," the blonde seemed to realize something. "Oh, for God's sake, it was me all along. You got it all from me."

"Got what?" the Doctor looked at the Alchemist, who shrugged, just as confused as he was.

"OK, listen," Sally pulled out a file folder, handing it to the Doctor. "One day, you're going to get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you. You're going to need it."

"Doctor!" Martha shouted.

"Yeah, yea, listen, got to dash," the Doctor waved at Sally. "Things happening. Well, four things."

"And the lizard," the Alchemist reminded him.

"Right, four things and a lizard."

"OK," the blonde stepped back, nodding. "No worries. On you go. See you around some day."

"What was your name?" the Alchemist asked.

"Sally Sparrow."

"Nice to meet you, Sally Sparrow," she grinned.

A young man walked up, freezing when he saw the two of them. Sally just smiled and took his hand. "Goodbye, Doctor, Alchemist."

The Time Lords grinned and ran off with Martha, running to get to the migration before it was too late.

***

"Why would anyone want to photograph here?" Martha asked as they slipped through the iron gate.

"Wester Drumlins!" the Doctor grinned as they approached. "Old house, built all the way back in the 1900s."

"And currently, home of this lot," the Alchemist held up a photo of a snarling angel statue.

"Weeping Angels," the Doctor sighed. "God, that lot is scary."

"OK, so we're going to be sent back to 1969 by these Weeping Angels," Martha nodded as they entered the house, the Alchemist shutting the door behind her, looking around. "So where are they?"

"Well, normally, you'd be able to see them coming," the Doctor shrugged. "See them, don't blink. Blink, you're gone. And Alice, you have never been so quiet."

"Alchemist?" Martha turned, then gasped. "Doctor!"

He turned around as well to see one of the Weeping Angels was standing there, pointing ominously at them. "OK," he nodded, walking up to Martha. "We blink, we should be able to go right to where she is."

"You're sure about that?"

"Well, not really. Allons-y!" he grinned, blinking.

His hand was torn from Martha's, and after a gut-wrenching experience, he landed with a thud in an alleyway. "Doctor!" the Alchemist ran up.

"Hi!" the Doctor grimaced, straightening up. "Oh, that was lovely."

Martha yelped as she landed nearby. "Ow!"

"Well, we did it," the Alchemist looked around. "Welcome to 1969."

***

"Are they here right now?" Martha asked as they broke back into Wester Drumlins, this time when the house looked slightly newer.

"Not yet," the Doctor shook his head. "If they are, they're where we can't find them. OK," he checked the photo Sally had taken of the message under the wallpaper. "Alice, is this you or me?"

"I'll do it," the Alchemist volunteered, opening one of the sealed paint cans. "Just tell me what to paint."

"Right," the Doctor stepped back, watching as the Alchemist climbed up onto the ladder. "First up is 'beware the Weeping Angel.'"

"OK . . . " The Alchemist painted the message across the wall. "Then?"

"'Oh, and duck!'"

"Now that just sounds like you," Martha laughed as the Alchemist gave the Doctor a look.

"Well, that's what it says," the Doctor shrugged. "Followed by 'really, duck!'"

"This is ridiculous," the Alchemist huffed, but painted anyway.

"Oi, you volunteered to paint," the Doctor reminded her.

"Just paint!" Martha huffed.

"'Sally Sparrow, duck, now!'"

"Obviously she got the message," Martha said dryly.

"And then 'love from the Time Lords, 1969.'"

"That is definitely you," the Alchemist sighed, finishing painting. "All right. What now?"

***

"Poor woman," the Alchemist said as she returned to the flat they were staying in, Martha still at work. "I tried to understand as best as I could, but I managed to convince her to write the letter."

"Katherine Costello Nightingale," the Doctor mused.

"Katherine Wainwright now," the Alchemist nodded. "I'll try and see if I can fix anything you made on that gizmo of yours."

"Are you saying I didn't make it correctly?"

"Knowing you, you just did something," the Alchemist snorted, heading off to the kitchen.

The Doctor watched her go, then took Alicia Morrow's diary from his jacket and opened it, starting to read through again.

***

"Got him!" the Doctor shouted as they ran down the stairs of a building.

"Where is he?" Martha called down.

"Right outside, he'll be here any mo."

They ran out onto the walkway in time to see a good looking black man slide down a wall, gasping. "Welcome!" the Doctor greeted with a grin.

"Where am I?" Billy Shipton sputtered.

"1969," the Doctor grinned. "Not bad, as it goes. You've got the moon landing to look forward to."

"Oh, the moon landing's brilliant," the Alchemist nodded.

"We went four times, back when we had transport," Martha gave the Doctor a look. They'd been stuck in 1969 for about two months, and she had no idea how the Alchemist constantly lived with the Time Lord!

"Working on it!" he hissed.

"How did I get here?" Billy looked around.

"The same way," the Doctor said. "The touch of an angel. Same one, probably, since you ended up in the same year."

"No, no, no, no, no, don't get up," the Alchemist ran over to stop him. "Time travel without a capsule. It's nasty. Catch your breath first, and don't go swimming for half an hour."

"I don't," Billy's eyes flickered back and forth. "I can't - "

"Fascinating race, the Weeping Angels," the Doctor mused. "The only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss. They just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present, they consume the energy of all the days you might have had. All your stolen moments. They're creatures of the abstract. They live off potential energy."

"What in God's name are you talking about?" Billy stared.

"Trust me, just nod when he stops for breath," Martha advised.

"Tracked you down with this," the Doctor held up his gizmo. "This is my timey-wimey detector. It goes ding when there's stuff."

"It can also boil an egg at thirty paces, apparently, whether you want it to or not," the Alchemist gave the Doctor a long look. "So I had to figure out a way to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."

"I don't understand," Billy looked around. "Where am I?"

"1969, like he says," Martha said.

"Normally, I'd offer you a lift home, but somebody nicked our motor," the Doctor leaned back. "So I need you to take a message to Sally Sparrow. And I'm sorry, Billy. I am very, very sorry. It's going to take you a while."

***

"So I record this message, and stick it on these seventeen DVDs?" Billy asked as he looked at the list the Alchemist gave him.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Billy nodded, going behind the camera.

The Alchemist stood behind, showing the transcript Sally had given them on the TV, rotating it to face the Doctor. "Good?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Right," the Alchemist turned to Billy. "When you're ready."

He waited for the camera to roll, then nodded. "OK, there he is," the Alchemist read telepathically, the Doctor following along on the cue. "The Doctor. Who's the Doctor? He's the Doctor."

"Yup," the Doctor said on cue, Billy nearly cursing. Martha just tried not to giggle off screen. "That's me."

"OK, that was scary. No, it sounds like he's replying, but he always says that."

"Yes, I do."

"And that."

"Yup. And this."

"He can hear us. Oh, my God, can you really hear us? Of course he can't hear us! Look, I've got a transcript, see? Everything he says. Yup, that's me. Yes, I do. Yup, and this. Next, it's - "

"Are you going to read out the whole thing?"

The Alchemist grinned as Martha giggled. "Sorry. Who are you?"

"I'm a time traveler. Or, I was. I'm stuck in 1969."

"We're stuck!" Martha poked in for her lines. "All of time and space, they promised me! Now I've got a job in a shop! I've got to support them!"

"I don't think they'd take well to me working at a gun range, Martha," the Alchemist said, speaking her part out loud.

"Martha!" the Doctor hissed.

"Sorry," she ducked away.

"I've seen this bit before," the Alchemist continued.

"Quite possibly," the Doctor nodded.

"1969. That's where you're talking from?"

"Afraid so."

"But you're replying to me. You can't know exactly what I'm going to say forty years before I say it!"

"Thirty eight."

Billy was the one who turned away to snort that time. "I'm getting this down," the Alchemist continued. "I'm writing in your bits. How? How is this possible? Tell me. Not so fast."

"People don't understand time," the Doctor said. "It's not what you think it is."

"Then what is it?"

"Complicated."

"Tell me."

"Very complicated."

"I'm clever, and I'm listening, and don't patronize me because people have died, and I'm not happy. Tell me."

The Doctor sighed. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a nonlinear, nonsubjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of . . . wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey . . . stuff," he cringed at the end.

The Alchemist put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Yeah, I've seen this bit before. You said that sentence got away from you."

"It got away from me, yeah."

"Next thing you're going to say is 'well, I can hear you.'"

"Well, I can hear you."

"This isn't possible. No, it's brilliant!"

"Well, not hear you exactly, but I know everything you're going to say."

"Always gives me the shivers, that bit. How can you know what I'm going to say."

"Look to your left."

Billy and Martha exaggerated looking to the left, which made the Alchemist roll her eyes. "What does he mean by look to your left? I've written tons about that on the forums. I think it's a political statement. He means you. What are you doing? I'm writing in your bits. That way I've got a complete transcript of the whole conversation. Wait until this hits the net. This will explode the egg forums."

"I've got a copy of the finished transcript," the Doctor said. "It's on my autocue."

"How can you have a copy of the finished transcript? It's still being written."

"I told you, I'm a time traveler. I got it in the future."

"OK, let me get my head round this. You're reading aloud from a transcript of a conversation you're still having."

"Yeah. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey."

"Never mind that. You can do shorthand? So?"

"What matters is, we can communicate. We have got big problems now. They have taken the blue box, haven't they? The angels have the phone box."

"The angels have the phone box. That's my favorite. I've got it no a T-shirt. What do you mean, angels? You mean those statue things?"

"Creatures from another world."

"But they're just statues."

"Only when you see them."

"What does that mean?"

"The lonely assassins, they used to be called. No one quite nows where they came from, but they're as old as the universe, or very nearly, and they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantum locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice. It's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone, and you can't kill a stone. Of course, a stone can't kill you either, but then you turn your head away. Then you blink, and oh, yes it can."

"Don't take your eyes off that."

"That's why they cover their eyes. They're not weeping. They can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. The loneliest creatures in the universe. And I'm sorry. I'm very, very sorry. It's up to you now."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"The blue box, it's my time machine. There is a world of time energy in there they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the sun. You have got to send it back to me."

"How? How?"

The Doctor sighed, knowing that was the end. "And that's it, I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript. That's the last I've got. I don't know what stopped you talking, but I can guess. They're coming. The angels are coming for you. But listen, your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink, and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink. Good luck."

The Alchemist gave Billy a thumbs up, and he shut the recording down. "Epic speech, mate," he told the Doctor.

"Let's hope they just follow it," the Doctor muttered, standing up and stretching. "That was really weird, one of us talking in the head, one of us out loud."

"Yeah, in the future, both out loud, or both telepathic," the Alchemist said.

"Deal."

***

Barely a month later, Martha was walking home from work when she heard a familiar wheezing. Her eyes widened. "Yes!" she shouted, running down the block the rest of the way as the TARDIS materialized in the yard of their flat. "Oh, yes!"

"Ha!" the Doctor ran out next, the Alchemist hurrying after him. "Brilliant Sally Sparrow!"

"Oh, thank God," the Alchemist grinned.

"This is it?" Billy asked as he looked at the TARDIS. "This is your spaceship?"

"Bigger on the inside," the Alchemist patted the police box. "Thank you so much, Billy."

"Make sure she reads that list," the Doctor told him.

"Will do," Billy nodded.

The Doctor smiled, then they headed inside the TARDIS to leave. "Never again," he vowed, walking up to the console. "I don't do domestics."

"I couldn't tell," Martha said sarcastically.

***

"So, Martha's up for going anywhere except in the past," the Alchemist arrived in the library later. "I was thinking about maybe we could swing by Woman Wept, just to see the planet - " She broke off, seeing the Doctor had his nose in a very familiar book. "What're you doing?"

"Martha told me to read it," the Doctor held up Alicia Morrow's diary. "I must say, Alicia had much better dreams than I did."

"Well, I wasn't running all over the universe back then," the Alchemist mumbled, sitting down on the couch. "To be honest, I never really paid attention to what I wrote."

"Well, I am," the Doctor tossed the journal onto the table, looking up at the Alchemist. "Why are you so scared of the Bond?"

The Alchemist swallowed. "What gave you that idea?"

"You were scared at first," the Doctor reminded her. "Then you were worried I wouldn't change back when I was John Smith. You're bloody terrified of it, even if you don't know it."

"And you're not?" the Alchemist looked at him.

"Worse than you are, I bet," the Doctor looked at her as she sat on the couch next to him. "You said it yourself, I was the one running all over the universe. I know what's out there. I've died so many times, and there were many times I probably would have died if not for sheer luck. I'm scared of leaving you behind."

The Alchemist was silent. "I'm still wondering why you chose me."

"I told you the truth," the Doctor looked at her. "I love you to death. I get that sometimes I don't show it as much as I do - "

"You show it enough," the Alchemist assured him, smiling and taking his hand. "I suppose I'm just too modest."

"This, coming from the best Creator on Gallifrey?"

"Well, I had to tone it down, didn't I?" the Alchemist raised an eyebrow. "I could never beat your ego."

"Oi!" the Doctor protested as she laughed at the pout on his face. "I do not have that big of an ego!"

"Your last one did, definitely."

"Well, that was him."

"Still the Doctor, though."

"Just like you - " He poked her in the chest. "Will still be the Alchemist, whether you're a librarian or a warrior. Got it?"

"Yeah," she smiled, cuddling up by his side. "I get it."

"Good," he kissed the top of her head. "Just need to fuel up in Cardiff, and we're on our way again. We'll find a time to get married soon, all right?"

"Promise?"

"Yeah," he smiled. For her, anything. "I promise."

***

I still feel like this was sort of . . . awkward. I don't know, I just feel like this book in general isn't on par with my other ones. :/

Oh, well.

But hey, one last cycle, and we're done! The Master trilogy is up next, and then this book is done! :D

Stay tuned: "Bad Wolf" will be up soon, and Rose makes good on her promise to teach Anna some Christmas carols!