trigger warnings: none i think??

*

After the trauma that was their last adventure, they decide to take a week off. The first few days MJ spends reading, swimming, and running. She reads alone in her room or a secluded corner of the library, swims alone, and runs alone. She sees the Doctor and Rose only at breakfast and dinner. She doesn't isolate herself on purpose, but she doesn't seek her friends out either, and they don't seek her out.

At breakfast on day four, Rose asks MJ if she can join her on her run. MJ agrees without a moment's hesitation. They run in relative silence. Rose runs a mile and then splays out on the bleachers with a bottle of water. MJ runs until Rose calls out to her to come sit with her.

"Are you mad at me?" Rose asks shyly when MJ finally plops down next to her. The metal bleachers should sear their bare skin with the way the sun is bearing down, but the seats are surprisingly cool.

MJ furrows her brow. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I fucked up," Rose says. "I nearly brought about the bloody end times because I was self-serving and naive, and then as if that wasn't enough, I threw your friend's death in your face. And then you got eaten by a monster because of me. I mean, you said it yourself: I was acting like a selfish cunt. Why wouldn't you be mad at me?"

MJ doesn't answer for a minute or two, she just drinks from a reusable pink water bottle and looks at the clouds in the fake sky. Once she's gathered her thoughts, she says, "Yeah, you really, really fucked up. You indirectly killed everyone I know and love. You indirectly got me killed. You betrayed the Doctor's trust, you betrayed mine, and you did it all for someone who was more myth to man to you."

Rose's eyes fill with tears. "So you are mad at me?"

"You watched me die," MJ says. "You watched the Doctor die. You watched your dad die twice. I think you've suffered enough. So, no, Rose, I'm not mad at you. I told you I accepted your apology and I meant it."

Rose sniffles and wipes at her eyes. "I really am so sorry, MJ. I just thought...I mean, we save so many people. Why not him? I had no idea it would be so..." She scrunches up her face, searching for the right word. "So catastrophic."

MJ cracks a grin. "It's sort of classic sci-fi, isn't it? Trying to make one small change and it turning out to have disastrous consequences. The butterfly effect, it's called. I get why you did it. I even get why you thought it wasn't such a big deal. I mean, Pete Tyler was just some guy, right? How much could he really change? But history is full of ordinary people who went on to do extraordinary things. It's a testament to how important each of us really are, I think, that changing one man's fate can change everything."

"Can I tell you something?" Rose asks. "And you can't tell the Doctor because I'm not sure he'd understand."

"My ears are open and my lips are sealed."

"As sorry as I am about what I did, and everything that happened because of it, I don't regret saving my dad's life," Rose admits. "I know it's wrong, but I just...I can't bring myself to regret getting to have that time with him. To see him as a man and not a myth."

She stares off into the distance, gaze unfocused, her lips pressed into a thin line as if she's holding something back. She clearly hasn't been sleeping, judging from the dark circles under her doe-brown eyes. Her skin has lost a bit of color too. As awful as their last adventure was for MJ and the Doctor, it was a thousand times worse for Rose, and its effects linger still.

MJ gets to her feet and holds out her hand. "Get up."

"Why?" Rose whines, draping her arm over her eyes.

"Because you need to shower and get dressed," MJ says. "There's somewhere we have to go."

*

The tombstone is simple:

PETER TYLER

HUSBAND, FATHER, FRIEND

15 September 1954 - 7 November 1987

Together, they clean the stone, scrubbing away years of grime in what feels like no time at all. With the dirt gone, they discover a thin crack in the stone, running from the top all the way down to the B in 'husband.' No reason to panic — the Doctor seals the crack and allegedly strengthens the gravestone with a few buzzes of his sonic. While he does this, MJ and Rose lay down the grave blanket they'd made with forget-me-nots, pink carnations, and purple hyacinths.

Once everything's in place, they stand hand-in-hand at the bottom edge of the grave. Save for them, the cemetery is void of people. The Doctor had made sure to land on a nice day — sunny, but not too hot. A cool breeze sweeps over them, ruffling the carefully maintained grass. Pete is buried in the shade of a giant oak tree. It's as beautiful as a grave can possibly be, in MJ's opinion.

"Is there anything you want to say?" the Doctor asks.

Rose nods. She clears her throat. "Hi, Dad. As much as I wish we could have more time together, I'm so glad I got to know you, even for just a few hours. Maybe you weren't everything Mum made you out to be, but you were the dad I always wished for. I love you so, so much. And so does Mum. She's never moved on, you know. Not really. Her heart always has and always will belong to you."

"From now on, everything I do, everyone I save, it's for you, Dad," Rose continues, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm going to make you proud. Or maybe I already have somehow, in which case I'm going to continue to make you proud. So, um, yeah. I hope you're happy wherever you are — I bet it's beautiful." She sniffles. Her voice cracks. "I miss you so much, but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a while before you see me again. Because I'm going to live a long, happy life, and it's all thanks to you."

Rose wipes her tears away and smiles bashfully. "You two got anything you want to say?"

"You were a good man, Pete," the Doctor says. "I'm sorry you never got to know your daughter as well as you should've. Really, I am sorry, 'coz she's amazing. You and Jackie really outdid yourselves with this one."

Rose giggles, leaning her head on MJ's shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed pink.

The Doctor spares Rose a soft smile before turning his attention back to Pete. "I know a lot of things, Pete. Too many things — I'm banned from all trivia shows, did you know that? But the one thing I don't know, the one thing I might never know, is what happens to you when you die. I know your body decomposes, but I don't know what happens to you. Your mind, your soul, your spirit, whatever you want to call it. So maybe you can hear us. Maybe you can't. If you can, then listen to this, yeah?"

He lets go of Rose's hand to crouch down. As he talks, he brushes his fingers along the petals of a carnation. "You said you hadn't done anything in your life, that you didn't mean anything. Well, you were wrong. You helped bring Rose Tyler into this universe, and we're all better off for it. So thank you for that." He rises to full height, taking Rose's hand once more. "Rest in peace, mate."

"My turn, then," MJ says, grinning. "Pete, I hardly knew you. And if I'm being totally honest, your idea about the windowsill with a compartment for milk and a compartment for yogurt was really fucking stupid."

"MJ," Rose admonishes. She pulls away from MJ to swat her arm lightly.

"It was!" MJ insists. Looking back at the grave, she adds, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Pete. All inventors, even the great ones, have dumb ideas every now and then. You were clever. I could tell. The world lost a bright mind when you died. But we all die someday. You met Death with dignity. That's more than a lot of people can say. So thank you for going with grace. Oh, and sorry for all the times I considered throwing you in front of that car."

The Doctor shoots her a look over Rose's head. "You're not very good at this."

He's probably just teasing, but it feels like a slap to the face. Worse than that, it feels...cruel. Mocking, almost. Because the Doctor is wrong. He is so horrendously wrong that his words land like bullets.

MJ is usually very, very good at this. She's excellent at delivering heartfelt eulogies and speaking to the dead as if they can hear her. After all, she's had a lot of practice — most demigods don't make it to eighteen. Even the part-timers who die just living their normal lives outside of camp typically get a burial shroud and a memorial service. When MJ knows the deceased, she can make even the most stone-faced demigods cry. She's attended more funerals than she cares to count and lost so many friends and siblings that sometimes she struggles to remember who's dead and who's just not around anymore.

The Doctor doesn't know this, of course. He has no idea how many burial shrouds MJ has weaved, whether it was for Cabin 6 or on behalf of another cabin. He has no idea how many bodies she's seen, how many mortal parents she's had to call and deliver the bad news, or how many people she's wished good luck on a quest and never seen again. MJ is no stranger to death or funerals. She is heartbreakingly well-versed in the language of commemorating those who have passed.

But as she said, she hardly knew Pete. They spoke maybe three words to each other. How can she say something eloquent about an almost total stranger?

MJ doesn't realize she's stomped out of the cemetery, tears streaming down her face, until she finds herself at the TARDIS doors. She digs her key out of her pocket and lets herself in. She vaguely registers the Doctor and Rose calling after her, so she makes sure to lock the door behind her to buy herself some extra time. Then she runs to her room and locks herself in.

She strips down to her underwear, leaving the black clothes she wore to the cemetery crumpled in a pile on the floor, and gets her orange camp shirt from where she's hidden it at the back of a drawer. Camp shirt and a pair of sleep shorts on, MJ crawls into bed and pulls the covers over her head. She closes her eyes. Just as she feared, the faces of the dead are painted on the back of her eyelids. At least, the dead as she remembers them. Was Inez from Cabin 4's hair curly or just wavy? What kind of glasses did Nathan from Cabin 11 wear? Even her own sister isn't immune — were Darby's eyes green or hazel? Or maybe they were blue. Gods, she can't remember, and it's only been two years since Darby vanished.

Sometimes, MJ thinks that this is how her brain works: as big as it is, it must have a maximum capacity, and so when she learns something new, an old memory needs to be deleted to make space. And for some reason, the memories she loses are always of the people she's loved and lost. That must be how it works because she can't remember how her big brother Chris used to laugh, or what her sister Fatima's favorite kind of tea was. She can't remember if Marley from Cabin 7 had a gap or not in her two front teeth, or how Daisy from Cabin 9 smiled, or what brand of gum Cabin 5's Trish used to always have in her pocket. The little details escape her until all she's left with is a blurred face and a name.

Someone knocks at her door, pulling her from her depressing thoughts. "MJ? Can I come in?"

It's the Doctor. Of course, it's the Doctor.

"I'm really sorry about what I said," he tells her from the other side of the door. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but I clearly did and I'm so, so sorry. Please, can I come in?"

MJ really wants to be alone right now, but something possesses her and gets her out of bed. She throws her door open wide and looks at the Doctor with tears in her eyes. "I can't remember."

His face is heartbreakingly soft. "Can't remember what?"

"How Chris laughed or what tea Fatima liked, or if Marley's front teeth had a gap or how Daisy smiled, or what brand of gum Trish always kept in her pocket," MJ babbles. "I can't remember if Darby's eyes were green or blue, I can't remember what kind of glasses Nate wore or what Inez's hair looked like." Her voice cracks. "I can't remember if Thalia liked her sandwiches with the crust cut off or not."

"Oh, MJ," the Doctor says quietly. He pulls her into a hug. "Oh, love, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

MJ weeps into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. She's not sure how long they stay like that before he picks her up and carries her back to her bed. He lays her down right in the middle and pulls the blanket up to her shoulders. Before he can walk away, she tugs on his sleeve.

"Stay," she pleads. She wants to be alone right now, but she doesn't think she should be.

"Okay," he says. "Just let me take off my coat and my boots, yeah?"

She nods and watches him closely as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack and leaves his shoes by the door. He's wearing a black sweater today. It looks very nice on him.

When the Doctor returns to her bedside, he initially lays down on top of her covers, and she shoots him a wounded look. "What am I, infectious?"

He slips under the blanket, doing a poor job of suppressing his smirk. "Just trying to respect your boundaries."

"No boundaries," she says and shifts over to make some space for him. "Need cuddles."

"Whatever you say, love," he says. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. "Just let me know if you need some space, okay?"

"No space," she grumbles, clinging to him like a sloth to a branch. She buries her face in his chest. "Only cuddles."

He laughs. "Okay. Message received."

They cuddle in silence. He plays with her curls — he seems to have a slight obsession with her hair. Normally, she's...apprehensive, to say the least, about white people touching her hair. But the Doctor seems to have a genuine appreciation for her hair, rather than a racist fascination, so she allows it. She snuggles to him as close as possible, their legs tangled, and she falls asleep like that, his lips brushing against her forehead.

*

MJ was under the impression things would be vastly different between her and the Doctor now that they know where they stand with each other, but no, they're pretty much the exact same.

"What did you think was going to happen?" Rose scoffs. It's the day after they visited Pete's grave, and they're sitting in the kitchen having grilled cheese for lunch.

"I don't know," MJ says. "I thought there'd be a lot more flirting and like, lingering looks."

Rose rolls her eyes. "You already do that, MJ. You've been doing that since pretty much the first day you met."

MJ considers that. She and the Doctor have been holding hands since day one, even when not running to or from danger, and bantering constantly. On her first proper adventure, when they went to Cardiff in 1869, he did call her beautiful — for a human. She remembers how he'd kept his hand on her knee in the carriage, and all the times they've leaned on each other for emotional or physical support. The Dalek called her the woman the Doctor loves and the Doctor didn't even attempt to deny it. All the hugging and cuddling...

She grimaces. "Okay, you might have a point."

"You're not the only smartie around here," Rose says a bit smugly.

"Never claimed to be," MJ says with a small laugh.

MJ and Rose spend day five of their break exploring the TARDIS again and debating the merits of attempting to make a map. On day six, the Doctor takes them to the top of a very tall, very purple mountain for 'therapy,' which just amounts to them screaming their frustration and heartbreak into the mountain air at the top of their lungs. Admittedly, it's weirdly cathartic. Once they're done screaming, they make hot chocolate and watch Stardust — a first-time watch for MJ and Rose, but the Doctor's very obviously seen it loads of times because he knows every line. MJ catches him mouthing the dialogue out of the corner of her eye at least twenty times, and every time she bites back a laugh because of how damn cute he looks.

(Between days six and seven, they take an accidental break from their break and land in Justicia, a star system used as a prison. The Blathareen, however, are using Justicia's planets to make warp holes and the suns to destroy other planets for spaceship fuel. MJ, Rose, and the Doctor topple the Blathareen criminal empire with the help of three Slitheen. Afterward, Team TARDIS agrees to resume their break.)

On day seven, the Doctor tries to teach Rose how to play chess at the table in MJ's craft room while MJ works more on the blanket she's making Chiron. At one point, Rose starts blatantly cheating — the Doctor doesn't notice somehow, and MJ doesn't tip him off. On day eight, the Doctor sprawls across her bed with his head in her lap while she reads. All three of them spend most of day nine in the TARDIS wardrobe, playing dress-up and filling boxes with clothes for MJ to upcycle, and finish the day with some (human) board games.

They're in the console room on day ten, debating where to go — Rose wants to go to a carnival, the Doctor wants to go to a library that spans an entire planet, MJ wants to do an underwater escape room — when the TARDIS shudders, something blipping on her radar.

"What's the emergency?" Rose asks.

"It's mauve," the Doctor says grimly.

"Universally, mauve means danger," MJ recalls from their Slitheen adventure.

Rose scrunches her face up in confusion as she and MJ fall into place on either side of the Doctor. "What happened to red?"

"That's just humans," the Doctor explains. His focus is primarily on the screen, typing frantically as the foreign object bounces around the time vortex. "By everyone else's standards, red's camp." He cracks a smile. "Oh, the misunderstandings. All those red alerts, all that dancing."

MJ and Rose exchange amused looks.

The Doctor adds, "It's got a very basic flight computer I've hacked in, slaved the TARDIS. Wherever it goes, we go."

"And that's safe, is it?" Rose presses, looking a tad uneasy.

"Totally," he says maybe a second before a part of the console explodes.

Of course, MJ's the closest to the explosion. She ducks behind the Doctor and moves to Rose's right.

"Okay, reasonably," the Doctor corrects. "Should have said 'reasonably' there."

Rose and MJ cling to the console as the room shakes and shudders. MJ says a silent prayer that wherever they end up, she's dressed for the occasion. She'd gone for a bit of a retro look — a button-down emerald green dress with an A-line skirt and black Oxfords.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he exclaims. "It's jumping time tracks, getting away from us."

MJ scowls. "What the fuck is this thing?"

"No idea," the Doctor says.

"Then why are we chasing it?" Rose asks.

"It's mauve and dangerous," the Doctor tells her, "and about thirty seconds from the center of London."

MJ shakes her head. "It's always London. Why is it always London?"

*

The Doctor lands them in an alleyway. Rose is first out the door, then MJ, and finally the Doctor.

"Do you know how long we can knock around space without happening to bump into Earth?" the Doctor asks them.

MJ assumes it's rhetorical, but Rose answers anyway. "Five days. Or is that when we're out of milk?"

"Of all the species in all the universe and it has to come out of a cow," the Doctor gripes.

MJ's only half-listening to their banter, her eyes trying to take in the surroundings as much as they can. It's not an easy task, seeing as it's night and there's an irritating lack of lights in the alley. It's cold too — and of course, MJ forgot to grab a jacket. She wraps her arms around herself and crinkles her nose at the piles of trash and the stacks of crates that line the alley.

"Must've come down somewhere quite close," he says, slipping his hand into MJ's and leading the charge down the rain-slicked stones. "Within a mile, anyway. And it can't have been more than a few weeks ago. Maybe a month."

"A month?" Rose scoffs. "We were right behind it."

"It was jumping time tracks all over the place," the Doctor says. "We're bound to be a little bit out. Do you want to drive?"

"Yes," MJ says without a moment's hesitation as they round a corner. She bats her eyes at him and presses herself against his side. "Will you teach me, Doc? Pretty please?"

Even in the dark, she can see his cheeks have turned pink. "Oh, well, um, uh—"

"How much is a little?" Rose cuts in.

"A bit," he says.

"Is that exactly a bit?" MJ teases. A chill runs down her spine — not the typical cold weather chill, but a 'Somebody's watching me' chill. She cranes her head, checking the windows and the rooftops.

He scrunches up his nose. "Ish."

"What's the plan, then?" Rose inquires. "You going to do a scan for alien tech or something?"

"Rose, it hit the middle of London with a very loud bang," the Doctor says, reaching into his pocket. "I'm going to ask."

He shows Rose the same wallet he'd shown Cathica and Suki back on Satellite Five.

"Dr John Smith, Ministry of Asteroids," Rose reads aloud.

"It's psychic paper," the Doctor explains. "It tells you what—"

"Whatever you want it to, I remember," Rose interrupts testily.

The Doctor grimaces. "Sorry."

They come to a stop at a back door. He drops MJ's hand to test the doorknob and see if it's locked.

"Don't apologize," MJ says. Her dress has a fabric belt she'd tied into a perfect bow earlier, cinching her waistline. She absentmindedly wraps the end of the bow around her finger as she watches the Doctor try to break in. "I didn't know what it was."

"Not very 'Spock,' is it?" Rose complains. "Just asking."

"Door, music, people," the Doctor lists, pulling out his sonic screwdriver now. "What d'you think?"

"I think you should do a scan for alien tech," Rose says. "Give me some Spock, for once. Would it kill ya?"

The Doctor eyes her warily. "You sure about that T-shirt?"

Rose is wearing a Union Jack shirt. It's...not MJ's style, to say the least, but Rose somehow makes it look good.

"Too early to say," Rose says. "I'm takin' it out for a spin."

The Doctor glances at MJ before turning his attention back to the door. "You look rather nice today. Very '40s."

"Felt like going vintage," MJ says. "May I?"

She grabs the doorknob, twists it, and forces the door open with her brute strength.

"Well, that's one way to do it," the Doctor says, rising to full height. He tucks his sonic away and takes her hand once more. Over his shoulder, he calls to Rose, "Come on if you're coming. It won't take a minute."

Hand-in-hand, MJ and the Doctor venture into the building. They walk down a poorly lit corridor toward the sound of jazz music. Where are they? Is it a gentlemen's club? A speakeasy? A swanky pub? Ahead of them, a waiter walks into their line of sight, perfectly balancing a tray of glasses. He pushes aside a beaded curtain and enters the establishment. MJ and the Doctor exchange looks and follow after him.

They emerge into a pub — a little more sleazy than swanky, unfortunately. Patrons in evening wear sit around small tables, each topped with a lit candle. Cigarette smoke curls through the golden lighting. On the stage, a singer in a silver dress and white fur coat croons into an old-timey microphone, backed up by a jazz band. There's a distinct lack of people of color — even the staff is white. Has to be the '40s or '50s, then. MJ's leaning toward the early 1940s, going off the fashion and hairstyles. Which means...

Oh. Oh no. They're in World War II.

MJ notices people glaring at her and ducks back into the hallway just as the singer finishes her performance. The crowd bursts into applause. Through the beaded curtain, she watches the Doctor take the stage.

"Excuse me, could I have everybody's attention just for a mo?" the Doctor requests. "Be very quick, eh...hello! Erm...might seem like a stupid question but has anything fallen from the sky recently?"

The crowd stares at him in silence. MJ wishes she had one of those giant hooks to yank him off the stage. Has he seriously not figured out when they are?

Slowly, the people in the audience start to laugh. MJ grimaces and checks behind her. Did Rose not follow them in? Maybe she went back to the TARDIS to pout about the Doctor not being Spock-y enough for her liking.

Speaking of the Doctor, he's looking quite lost at the moment. "Sorry, have I said something funny? It's just, there's this thing I need to find. Would have fallen from the sky, a couple of days ago."

MJ startles at the sound of a siren. Oh, fuck. The patrons quickly finish their drinks and hurry down to the shelter.

The Doctor is still talking. "Would've landed quite near here...with a very loud..." MJ follows his gaze to a poster on the wall. It reads 'Hilter will send no warning.' "Bang."

He closes his eyes in despair. Now that everyone's too busy evacuating to be racist, MJ slips back into the pub and waves the Doctor over. He hops down from the stage, looking a tad embarrassed.

"Be honest," he says. "How quickly did you figure it out before me?"

"Pretty much the second we walked in," MJ says. She grabs his hand and tugs him back down the hallway. They'll be safest in the TARDIS. "The hairstyles were a dead giveaway. Victory curls aplenty."

The Doctor scrunches his face up as they hurry down the corridor. "Well, at least you're dressed for the period. Though you're going to freeze if we don't get you a coat, love."

"I'll be fine," MJ says, rolling her eyes.

They run out the back door and immediately start calling out for Rose who, of course, isn't standing by the exit where they left her. They round the corner and see she's not hanging around outside the TARDIS either. Maybe she went in when the sirens sounded? Is there a chance in Hades that it's that simple?

A cat's meow stops MJ and the Doctor in their tracks. They turn around to see the cutest kitten sitting on top of a trash can. Its coat is mostly black, but it has white paws and a little white on its face around its mouth.

"Well, hello beautiful," MJ coos.

The Doctor drops MJ's hand to pick the cat up. "You know, one day. Just one day, maybe, I'm going to meet somebody who gets the whole 'don't wander off' thing. Nine hundred years of phone box travel, it's the only thing left to surprise me."

MJ shoots him a dirty look, all while giving the kitty head scritches. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"You've wandered off."

"When exactly did I wander off?"

"Well—"

A phone ringing fills the alleyway before the Doctor can stammer out an answer. Even weirder, the sound comes from the TARDIS, not from the inside but from the exterior. MJ wasn't even aware the TARDIS had an exterior phone, let alone a functional one. But sure enough, once he's put the cat down, the Doctor pulls open a compartment to reveal a phone on the other side of the door.

"How can you be ringing?" the Doctor asks, just as baffled as MJ is. "What's that about? Ringing?" He pulls out his sonic again. "What am I supposed to do with a ringing phone?"

"Don't answer it."

MJ whirls around to see a white girl, maybe around her age, has somehow silently crept up behind them. She's wearing a coat that's too big for her and, judging by the silhouette, is meant for a man. There are streaks of dirt on her pale face. Her dark hair looks limp as if it hasn't been washed in a while. She looks...homeless.

"It's not for you," the girl says.

The Doctor turns to face her too. "And how do you know that?"

"'Coz I do," the girl says. "And I'm tellin' ya, don't answer it."

"Well, if you know so much, tell me this, how can it be ringing?" the Doctor challenges her. He walks back to the TARDIS phone — its ringing has yet to cease. MJ takes her eyes off the girl to watch him. "It's not even a real phone, it's not connected, it's not..."

He turns back, the rest of his sentence dying on his tongue. MJ turns too and sees the girl has vanished as quickly and as silently as she'd approached. Impressive. Very impressive.

The Doctor hesitates and then answers the phone. His tone turns playful. "Hello? This is the Doctor speaking. How may I help you?" MJ can't hear who's on the line, but whatever they say makes the color seep from his face. "Who is this? Who's speaking? Who is this? How did you ring here? This isn't a real phone, it's not wired up to anything, it's..."

He trails off, listens a little longer, and then hangs up the phone.

"What did they say?" MJ asks, arms folded over her chest. "What did they sound like?"

"It sounded like a little boy," the Doctor says. "Like a scared little boy. He was asking for his mummy."

MJ shudders. "Creepy."

The Doctor nods. Leaning closer to the TARDIS, he calls out, "Rose? Rose, are you in there?"

MJ's hand goes to her ring when something crashes behind them. The Doctor closes the phone compartment and holds out his hand expectantly. MJ takes it without hesitating and together, they run out of the alley and into the street. They follow the crashing sound and then, when they no longer hear it, they follow the sound of voices.

This takes them to a garden wall. The Doctor jumps up to stand on top of a trash can, then helps MJ up to stand next to him. They peer over the wall at a well-maintained backyard. A mother is ushering her son into a metal shelter.

"Come on," the mother urges. "Hurry up, get in there. Come on." Once he's inside, she turns back to the house and shouts, "Arthur, will you hurry up? Didn't you hear the siren?"

Her husband walks out of the house, scowling. "Middle of dinner, every night. Blooming Germans, don't they eat?"

The Doctor cracks a smile.

"I can hear the planes," the wife says.

The husband looks up now and yells, "Don't you eat?"

"Keep your voice down, will you?" his wife admonishes. "It's an air raid."

The couple head into their shelter, squabbling all the while. As soon as the door to the shelter is closed behind them, the girl from earlier emerges from behind the shelter. She hurries across the yard and into the house.

"Is she stealing?" the Doctor whispers.

"She's scavenging," MJ corrects. She keeps her voice low, but there's an undeniable edge to her words, sharp as the blade of her sword. "Surviving."

They stay where they are, crouched behind the garden wall, until they hear two sharp whistles.

"That's got to be a signal, then," the Doctor says. He grins at MJ. "Shall we?"

"I think we shall," MJ quips. She hops over the wall and lands in a crouch.

The Doctor follows her over but doesn't land quite as gracefully. She giggles, earning a scowl from him. "Oh, hush. What are you, a cat burglar?"

"Something like that," she says.

The two of them hurry across the yard and creep into the house. Though it arguably should be empty, considering there's an air raid and all, the house is bustling with activity. In the dining room, the girl from earlier is carving up a turkey. A couple of boys are dragging chairs from other rooms and arranging them around the dining table. Children filter in through the front door and take seats around the table, where a feast awaits them. MJ's stomach rumbles. The Doctor nudges her playfully and she swats his arm lightly. They watch and wait until it seems the last child has come in. Luckily, there are still two open seats left at the table.

The kids are too caught up in the euphoria of getting a full meal to notice the Doctor and MJ slide into the last two chairs. They pass a plate of turkey slices around, taking one each and thanking the girl.

A boy passes the plate to the Doctor, and the Doctor grabs two pieces for him and MJ — despite there being two available seats, there's only one plate, so they'll have to share.

"Thanks, miss!" the Doctor and MJ chorus, same as the others, before passing the plate along.

The kids gasp and leap to their feet. MJ's heart breaks at the sight of their faces. They're all so thin, so raggedy. They deserve so much better than fighting for scraps.

The girl still stands at the head of the table, annoyed but calm. "It's alright. Everybody stay where they are."

"Good here, innit?" the Doctor asks as MJ cuts up the meat. "Who's got the salt?"

"Back in your seats," the girl orders. "They shouldn't be here either."

The kids retake their seats. The Doctor grabs a thing of mashed potatoes and throws some onto his and MJ's plate.

"So, you lot..." The Doctor looks around the table. "What's the story?"

"What do you mean?" an older boy asks.

"You're homeless, right?" the Doctor presses. MJ's stomach turns. "Living rough?"

"Why do you want to know that?" another kid demands. "You a copper?"

MJ gags at the insult. The Doctor smiles. "I'm not a copper. What's a copper going to do with you lot anyway? Arrest you for starving?"

The Doctor and the children laugh, but MJ slumps down in her seat. When she was living on the streets with Thalia, Luke, and later Annabeth, she saw her fellow homeless get arrested all the time, and always for some bullshit reason. They once got into a fight with a group of cops who were tearing down a homeless camp. MJ's swung at an animal control guy who tried to take a woman's dog. Maybe things are different here, different now, but in America, yes. Yes, the cops will arrest you for starving. And then they will throw you into prison, and use you as slave labor.

Suddenly, MJ's not so hungry anymore.

"I make it 1941," the Doctor says, checking his watch. "You lot shouldn't even be in London. Should've been evacuated to the country by now."

"I was evacuated," a boy speaks up. "Sent me to a farm."

"So, why'd you come back?" the Doctor asks.

The boy grimaces. "There was a man there."

"Yeah," another kid says, gesturing with his fork. "Same with Ernie. Two homes ago."

"Shut up," Ernie says. "It's better on the streets anyway. It's better food."

"Yeah, Nancy always gets the best food for us," the kid gesturing with his fork says.

The words slip out of MJ's mouth before she even realizes it's moving. "Yeah, my friends and I never ate like this when I was on the streets."

Everyone stops, then turns to look at her.

"You were homeless?" Ernie asks incredulously.

MJ smiles shyly, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Uh, yeah. For about...well, I was eight when Thalia and I ran away and I was just a few months shy of thirteen when we got off the streets so...yeah, for about five years."

She's painfully aware of the way the Doctor is looking at her, with his lips parted in surprise and his eyes a little wider, his brow furrowed.

A little redheaded girl looks awestruck. "You ran away too?"

"Why'd you run?" someone asks.

"Is Thalia your sister?" a different kid questions.

"You said friends, plural," the Doctor says with that same expression — a mix between confusion and heartbreak, with a little bit of anger hidden in the depths of his eyes. "How many of you were there?"

MJ swallows hard. "Uh, no, Thalia wasn't my sister. She was my best friend, and she had a bad home life, and one day...one day, she just couldn't stick it out anymore. So she came to mine to tell me she was leaving, and I, um, I decided to go with her."

"But why?" Ernie asks, leaning forward a little in his seat.

"Because my mom was killing herself so that I could have food and clothes and school supplies," MJ says bluntly. She pushes her food around on her plate, eyes glued on the pattern of the tablecloth. "She was skipping meals and working herself to death for me, so I figured if I left, she could take care of herself, and I could take care of Thalia. Win-win."

What MJ neglects to mention — because no child from the '40s could ever understand and honestly, it feels too personal to share — is that her mom wasn't just sacrificing her physical health for MJ. She was sacrificing her mental health too. Mom was diagnosed with OCD in her first year of college, and unfortunately, due to financial constraints, there came a time when she had to choose between treatment and providing for MJ. Raising a child pretty much singlehandedly is difficult enough as it is, but raising a child pretty much singlehandedly while off your meds? Like doing brain surgery blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back, Mom had described it once on one of her bad days.

"You ran away out of love." Nancy scoffs. "That's a new one."

The Doctor's eyes burn into the side of her head. "How many of you were there?"

"It was just me and Thalia at first," MJ says. "And then we met Luke, and it was the three of us for about four years, and then...then we met Annabeth. And um, toward the very end, we met Grover. He's the one who got us off the streets, actually."

"I've never met anyone who's gotten off the streets before," Ernie says.

MJ smiles sadly and forces herself to look him in the eyes. "Most people don't. We were lucky." She clears her throat. "But enough about me. There are better things to talk about it."

"Agree to disagree," the Doctor says, knocking his knee into hers playfully. He's smiling again, but he has this look in her eyes that makes it clear this conversation isn't over, just being put on pause. "But if you insist. So that's what you do, is it, Nancy?"

With the attention off her, MJ gets to eating. Can't adventure on an empty stomach, right?

Nancy glowers at him — clearly she's not the Doctor's biggest fan. "What is?"

"Soon as the sirens go, you find a big, fat family meal, still warm on the table, with everyone down in the air raid shelter and bingo," he says. "Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London town. Puddings for all, as long as the bombs don't get you."

"Something wrong with that?" Nancy asks sharply.

"Wrong? It's brilliant," the Doctor tells her. "I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End musical."

"Why'd you follow me?" Nancy demands. "What do you want?"

"I want to know how a phone that isn't a phone gets a phone call," he says. "You seem to be the one to ask."

"I did you a favor," Nancy says. "I told you not to answer it. That's all I'm telling you."

"Great, thanks," the Doctor says. "And we want to find a blonde in a Union Jack. I mean, a specific one. We didn't just wake up this morning with a craving."

The children laugh. Nancy gets to her feet and stomps over.

"Anybody seen a girl like that?" the Doctor asks. Nancy grabs their plate. MJ manages to stab her fork into the Doctor's slice of meat before Nancy takes the plate away. The Doctor pouts. "What have I done wrong?"

"You took two slices," Nancy says primly, carrying the plate away, and the kids giggle. "No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you leave?"

"Actually, we were sharing a plate," MJ says, "so he didn't do anything wrong."

Then she shoves the entire slice into her mouth, and the kids giggle some more.

"And to answer your question, there is, actually. Thanks for asking," the Doctor says cheerily. "Something I've been looking for. Would've fallen from the sky a month ago, but not a bomb." He digs a notebook out of his pocket and starts sketching. "Not the usual kind anyway. Wouldn't have exploded. Probably would've buried itself in the ground somewhere. And it would've looked something like this."

He shows them a rough drawing of the object. The kids look on, no recognition in their eyes, but MJ sees a sort of intensity in Nancy's eyes that implies further knowledge. Before MJ can call her out, there's a knock at the window. The children gasp.

"Mummy?" a little boy calls from outside. "Are you in there, Mummy?"

The Doctor gets up and pulls aside the curtain, revealing a kid in a gas mask. The kid presses his hand against the glass and calls out for his mummy again.

"Who was the last one in?" Nancy asks, a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Them," Ernie says, pointing at the Doctor and MJ.

"They came round the back," Nancy says. "Who came in the front?"

"Me," a boy says softly.

"Did you close the door?" Nancy questions him. He starts to stammer out an answer, but Nancy cuts in, repeating herself, her tone much sterner. "Did you close the door?"

"Mummy?" the boy in the gas mask says. "Mummy?"

He heads for the front door. Nancy runs to the door, shuts it, and bolts it, effectively locking the child out. She backs away, watching the boy's shadow with horror.

"What's this, then?" the Doctor asks. He and MJ had followed Nancy out into the hall. "Never easy being the only child left out in the cold, you know."

"I suppose you'd know," Nancy says snottily.

The Doctor slips his hand into MJ's. "I do, actually, yes."

Nancy's expression softens just a fraction. "It's not exactly a child."

"Mummy," the boy in the gas mask sings.

Nancy pushes past MJ and hurries back into the dining room. "Right, everybody out. Across the back garden and under the fence." The kids must not move fast enough because Nancy barks out, "Now! Go! Move!"

MJ and the Doctor watch with furrowed brows as the kids stream out of the dining room and toward the back exit. Nancy doesn't leave until the last child is gone.

"Mummy?" the boy in the gas mask calls. The Doctor takes a few steps toward the door, pulling MJ along with him. "Please let me in, Mummy." The boy sticks his hand through the mail slot. A scar runs across the back of his hand. "Please let me in, Mummy."

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asks.

"Please let me in," the boy begs.

Nancy hurls a mug at the door, shattering it. The boy withdraws his hand.

"You mustn't let him touch ya!" Nancy warns them.

"What happens if he touches us?" the Doctor questions.

"He makes you like him," she says.

MJ inches away from the front door. "And what's he like?"

"I've got to go," Nancy says, heading for the back door.

The Doctor's words stop her in her tracks. "Nancy, what's he like?"

Nancy looks at them. "He's empty." The phone rings. "It's him. He can make phones ring. He can. Just like with that police box you saw."

The Doctor hesitates, then picks up the phone. MJ shakes her head at him. His ass would not survive a horror movie.

"Are you my mummy?" the boy asks over the phone.

Nancy rips the phone out of the Doctor's hand and slams it back down. In the dining room, the radio turns itself on. Over the music, the boy's voice calls out again for his mom. The Doctor adjusts the dial. The boy's voice starts to come out of a toy monkey. MJ shudders. The Doctor picks the monkey up, inspecting it.

"You stay here if you want to," Nancy says and then hightails it out of there.

MJ and the Doctor follow her into the hallway. The boy sticks his hand through the mail slot again. The Doctor walks over to the front door, crouching down to better inspect the boy's hand, but MJ hangs behind. She is not dying to some creepy little demonic child.

"Your mummy isn't here," the Doctor tells the boy through the door.

The boy hesitates. "Are you my mummy?"

"No mummies here," the Doctor says. "Nobody here but us chickens." He looks behind him to see MJ glowering at him from her spot down the hall. He winces and turns back to the door. "Well, this chicken."

"I'm scared," the boy says. He turns his hand over, palm up.

"Why are those other children frightened of you?" the Doctor asks.

"Doc, can we just go?" MJ hisses. "I don't fuck with demons."

"Please let me in, Mummy," the boy pleads. "I'm scared of the bombs."

"Okay," the Doctor says. "I'm opening the door now."

The child retracts his hand.

MJ shakes her head emphatically. "You are not opening that door. Don't you dare open that door."

The Doctor opens the door. To MJ's relief, the boy is gone. Vanished, in true creepy horror movie kid fashion. The Doctor runs out into the street, but there's no sign of the boy in the gas mask. MJ's shoulders slump in relief. She grabs a black coat off the rack by the door and pulls it on before venturing outside.

"I cannot believe you opened the door!" MJ exclaims, rushing to the Doctor's side and swatting him on the arm. "Sometimes I think you want to die!"

"Don't be so dramatic," he says, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't going to let him touch me."

MJ bristles. "Dramatic? Seriously? Go fuck yourself, Doc. I'm so sorry that my being concerned for your life is an inconvenience to you, but I happen to not want to watch you die."

He scowls at her. "Oh, like you made me watch you die?"

"Oh my gods, would you get over that?" She rolls her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. "That was like, a week ago and I didn't stay dead, did I?"

He throws his hands up in frustration. "You are so fucking—you're impossible, you know that?"

"Whatever," she scoffs. "Let's just go find Nancy, okay? Because that girl definitely knows more than she's saying."

"Well, at least we can agree on that," the Doctor grumbles.

MJ barely resists the urge to hit him. Seriously, what is his problem? She's not allowed to be worried about his well-being all of a sudden? But she knows if it was the situation was reversed — if she was the one taking the unnecessary risks — he'd be pissed at her for putting herself in danger. Why is he allowed to be reckless but she's not? It's a total double standard.

Men.

*

They follow Nancy through narrow alleyways and across train tracks. Eventually, she stops inside an outer house. MJ and the Doctor watch from the doorway as she starts taking food out of her bag. It doesn't take her very long to spot them.

"How'd you follow me here?" she demands.

"I'm good at following, me," the Doctor says, grinning. "I've got the nose for it."

Nancy eyes him suspiciously. "People can't usually follow me if I don't want them to."

"My nose has special powers."

"Yeah?" Nancy's lips curl into a smirk. "Is that why it's so..."

The Doctor's face falls. "What?"

"Nothing," Nancy says unconvincingly. MJ bites back a giggle.

"What?" the Doctor asks again.

"Nothing!" Nancy insists. "Your ears have special powers, too?"

The Doctor frowns, furrowing his brow. "What are you trying to say?"

"Good night, mister," Nancy says.

Before she can leave, MJ calls out, "Nancy. Please let us help you."

Nancy freezes but keeps her back to them. MJ's a bit surprised, to be honest. She didn't expect Nancy to stay. MJ remembers all too well the distrust being a homeless kid drills into you. You never know who's actually trying to help and who's just trying to put you away somewhere the 'decent' folk don't have to see you. So why does Nancy stay? Is it because she knows MJ's a fellow street kid, and as distrustful as being homeless makes you, the rule is that street kids stick together? Or is she truly so afraid of the boy in the gas mask that she's willing to take a chance on strangers?

"There's something chasing you and the other kids," the Doctor says. "It looks like a boy and it isn't a boy. And it started about a month ago. Right?"

Nancy turns to face them, her brow knitted.

"The thing we're looking for," he continues. "The thing that fell from the sky. That's when it landed. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"There was a bomb," Nancy admits. "A bomb that wasn't a bomb. Fell the other end of Limehouse Green Station."

"Take us there," he says, and even MJ can't tell if it's a request or an order.

Nancy shakes her head. "No. Soldiers guarding it. Barbed wire. You'd never get through."

MJ smiles, folding her arms over her chest. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised. We're a lot scrappier than we look."

"You sure you want to know what's going on in there?" Nancy asks.

"We really want to know," the Doctor says with a cheery grin.

"Then there's someone you need to talk to first," she tells them.

MJ raises her eyebrows. "And who might that be?"

"The Doctor," Nancy says.

She takes off without another word. MJ and the Doctor exchange baffled looks, but she's their only lead, so they follow.

Nancy is quick and agile. At no point does she stop and wait for them to catch up. She is a girl on a mission, and she wants that mission over with as soon as possible. Luckily, MJ and the Doctor have no problem keeping up with her. She comes to a stop on a set of rain-slicked stairs and asks them if they have any binoculars.

The Doctor does, of course. He takes a good, long look before handing the binoculars to MJ. She surveys the bomb site, trying to see how many soldiers are on guard and what other security measures there may be outside the barbed wire fence and personnel. There don't appear to be too many men on guard, but they're armed. They've got watchtowers set up that could prove problematic and floodlights illuminating the site.

"The bomb's under the tarpaulin," Nancy says. "They put the fence up overnight. See that building? The hospital?"

"What about it?" the Doctor asks.

"That's where the doctor is," she says.

MJ lowers the binoculars and follows Nancy's gaze to a giant building looming in the distance. Between the night sky, barren trees, and lack of lighting, it looks like something out of a horror movie. MJ shudders and passes the binoculars back to the Doctor. He seems to zoom in on the hospital.

"For now, I'm more interested in getting in there," he says, returning his attention to the bomb site.

"Talk to the Doctor first," Nancy urges.

"Why?" the Doctor presses.

"Because then maybe you won't want to get inside," she says. Then she turns and starts back up the staircase.

"Where ya headed?" MJ asks casually.

"There was a lot of food in that house," Nancy says. "I've got mouths to feed. Should be safe enough now."

MJ nods. She gets it. Nancy cares for those kids the way MJ cares for her siblings, provides for them like MJ used to provide for Annabeth pre-Camp Half-Blood. That's the thing about being a big sister — you can never stop being a big sister. Taking care of others is forever hardwired into you. Even if they're not your siblings, even if they're older than you, even if it's inconvenient for you. Maybe especially if it's inconvenient for you.

"Can I ask you a question?" the Doctor inquires, still peering through his binocs. "Who did you lose?"

Nancy's tentative smile fades. "What?"

He lowers the binoculars and turns to Nancy. "The way you look after all those kids. It's 'cause you lost somebody, isn't it? You're doing all this to make up for it."

"My little brother, Jamie," Nancy confesses, but there's something about the way she says 'little brother' that feels ever so slightly...off. "One night I went out looking for food. Same night that thing fell. Told him not to follow me. I told him it was dangerous. But he just...he just didn't like being on his own."

"What happened?"

"In the middle of an air raid?" Nancy's close to tears. "What do you think happened?"

The Doctor nods, then cracks a smile. "Amazing."

"What is?" Nancy presses.

"1941," he says. He gazes up at the air raid, something almost wistful in his expression. "Right now, not very far from here the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it, nothing. Until one tiny, damp, little island says, 'No. No, not here.'"

He chuckles. "A mouse in front of a lion." He smiles at Nancy, warm and full of awe. "You're amazing. The lot of you. Don't know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me."

MJ turns her gaze skyward. Overhead, the war rages on. Down here is an odd sort of calm. Everyone not in an air raid shelter has made their peace with what might happen to them, and they soldier on anyway. Life never stops. Hope never dies.

"Off you go, then," the Doctor tells Nancy. "Do what you got to do. Save the world."

He holds out his hand and, even though she's still kind of mad at him, MJ takes it. Together, they go down the stairs and make their way to the hospital.

"Wait," MJ says, screeching to a halt outside the gates. "We've been here before."

The Doctor frowns. "We have?"

"Albion Hospital," she says. "This is where Dr. Sato was examining the fake alien pilot."

"Oh, yeah." He examines the gates and finds a chain with a heavy padlock binding them shut. He pulls out his sonic and gets to work. The lock falls open, and he flashes her a smile. "But this time, we're coming in through the front door."

*

"You always take me to the nicest places," MJ jokes.

Albion Hospital looks much more decrepit in 1941 than in 2006. It certainly doesn't help that almost all of the lights are off. They walk into the first ward they find. Every bed is occupied, and though it's hard to see in the dark, it looks like they're all wearing gas masks. MJ looks closer and, as far as she can tell, none of them are breathing. A ward full of corpses in gas masks? Fresh corpses, too. Or corpses that don't rot.

MJ's not sure which option is worse.

The next ward they find is brighter, but the contents are much the same — rows of unbreathing bodies in gas masks. When Nancy said the boy "makes you like him," is this what she meant? Have all of these people come in contact with the child? Is he patient zero of some sort of contagion?

There's a noise behind them. MJ whirls around, fists raised. An old white man using a cane walks into the ward. Judging by his white lab coat, he's most likely the doctor Nancy sent them to speak to. MJ lowers her fists, but not her guard. Never her guard.

"You'll find them everywhere," the doctor says. "In every bed, in every ward. Hundreds of them."

"Yes, we saw," the Doctor says. "Why are they still wearing gas masks?"

"They're not," the doctor says dismissively. Oh, this is getting confusing. "Who are you two?"

"I'm, uh..." MJ's Doctor trails off. "Are you the doctor?"

"Dr. Constantine," the man answers. "And you are?"

MJ watches Dr. Constantine closely. "Nancy sent us."

"Nancy?" Dr. Constantine passes them. "That means you must have been asking about the bomb."

"Yes," the Doctor says.

"What do you know about it?" Dr. Constantine asks.

"Nothing," the Doctor tells him. "Why I was asking. What do you know?"

Dr. Constantine stops short of a pair of desks pushed together in the center of the ward. He turns to face MJ and the Doctor. "Only what it's done."

The Doctor's gaze flickers to the hospital beds. "These people, were they all caught up in the blast?"

"None of them were," Dr. Constantine says. He coughs violently, nearly doubling over. He sits down in a chair just behind him.

"You're very sick," the Doctor notes. His tone hasn't changed — nonchalant, almost matter-of-fact.

He takes a few steps toward Dr. Constantine, but MJ keeps her distance. She'd really rather not catch whatever disease this man has.

"Dying, I should think," Dr. Constantine corrects. "I just haven't been able to find the time. Are you a doctor?"

"I have my moments," the Doctor says.

"Have you examined any of them yet?"

"No."

"Don't touch the flesh," Dr. Constantine warns.

"Which one?" the Doctor asks.

"Any one," Dr. Constantine says.

MJ wraps her arms around herself, skin crawling. All of these people...they're gas mask zombies, aren't they? That's what Nancy meant by 'empty.' The boy is dead but still walking. These people are dead too, but they don't rot.

The Doctor walks over to the nearest 'patient' and scans them with his sonic screwdriver. MJ's gaze latches on to the scar on the back of the person's hand. It's the exact same scar the boy has — same size, same shape, even in the same stage of healing. How is that possible?

"Conclusions?" Dr. Constantine prompts.

"Massive head trauma, mostly to the left side," the Doctor rattles off. "Partial collapse of the chest cavity, mostly to the right. There's scarring on the back of the hand and the gas mask seems to be fused to the flesh, but I can't see any burns."

MJ's stomach turns. "Doc—"

"Examine another one," Dr. Constantine orders.

The Doctor does as told. MJ reluctantly trails after him.

"This is impossible," the Doctor declares.

"Examine another," Dr. Constantine says.

The Doctor chooses a patient on the opposite side of the ward. He shakes his head. "This isn't possible!"

"No."

"They've all got the same injuries," the Doctor says, walking back to the front of the room. MJ only follows him halfway, stopping by the desks.

"Yes."

"Exactly the same!"

"Yes."

"Identical, all of them, right down to the scar on the back of the hand," the Doctor says.

Out of the corner of her eye, MJ sees Dr. Constantine look at the back of his own hand. MJ looks too. Her heart falls into her stomach. Oh. He has the scar too. It's not quite as severe as the others' — his almost looks healed — but it's the same size and shape. MJ immediately gravitates back to the Doctor's side.

"How did this happen?" the Doctor demands. "How did it start?"

"When that bomb dropped, there was just one victim," Dr. Constantine says. The boy. He must be talking about the boy.

"Dead?" the Doctor asks.

"At first," Dr. Constantine says. "His injuries were truly dreadful. By the following morning every doctor and nurse who had treated him, who had touched him, had those exact same injuries. By the morning after that, every patient on the same ward, the exact same injuries. Within a week, the entire hospital. Physical injuries, as plague. Can you explain that? What would you say was the cause of death?"

"There isn't one," MJ says. "They're not dead, are they?"

The Doctor shoots her a bewildered look. "What makes you say that?"

"That bomb dropped a month ago," MJ reminds him. "And it only took a week for the entire hospital to be infected."

"Yeah, so?"

"So why are there no signs of decomposition?" MJ points out. "If they're dead, why don't they rot?"

"Are you a nurse, miss?" Dr. Constantine asks her.

She shakes her head. "No, sir. I'm more like his bodyguard, really."

"Well, you're correct," he says. "They're not dead."

He knocks his cane against a trash can. Simultaneously, every patient in the ward sits up in their bed. The Doctor tries to tug MJ behind him, but she just rolls her eyes and steps in front of him.

"It's alright, they're harmless," Dr. Constantine assures them. "They just sort of sit there. No heartbeat. No life signs of any kind. They just don't die."

"And they've just been left here?" The Doctor looks around the ward again, anger burning in his eyes. "Nobody's doing anything?"

The patients lie back down as if Dr. Constantine had simply woken them up from a nap.

"I try and make them comfortable," he says. "What else is there?"

"Just you?" the Doctor asks. "You're the only one here."

"Before this war began I was a father and a grandfather," Dr. Constantine says. "Now I'm neither. But I'm still a doctor."

MJ looks at the Doctor. He's already looking at her. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

"I suspect the plan is to blow up the hospital and blame it on a German bomb," Dr. Constantine tells them.

"Probably too late," the Doctor says.

Definitely too late, MJ thinks. These victims might just lay in their beds and do nothing, but the boy is out and about. If MJ's right and he's patient zero, any chance of containing this died the second he got out of the hospital.

"I know," Dr. Constantine sighs. "There are isolated cases. Isolated cases breaking out all over London." He starts to sputter, and the Doctor takes a few steps forward. Dr. Constantine holds his hand up in warning. "Stay back, stay back."

MJ grabs the Doctor's sleeve and yanks him back. If he won't prioritize his safety, she'll just have to do it for him.

Dr. Constantine coughs. "Listen to me. Top floor. Room 802. That's where they took the first victim. The one from the crash site. And you must find Nancy again."

"Nancy?" the Doctor echoes.

"It was her brother," Dr. Constantine reveals. "She knows more than she's saying. She won't tell me, but she..." He gags and clutches his neck. "Mummy." Choking on his final words, Dr. Constantine forces out, "Are you my...mummy?"

MJ watches in horror as Dr. Constantine's face contorts and morphs into a gas mask. It takes his mouth first, then swallows his eyes, and spreads across the rest of his face, fusing to his skin. Straps form themselves, wrapping around his skull. Dr. Constantine goes limp, head lolling to the side.

"Oh my gods," MJ gasps out. Her breathing speeds up, but it feels as though no air reaches her lungs. Tears spring to her eyes. She clutches at her chest, her stomach churning. "Oh my gods, I think I might puke."

The Doctor wraps her up in a tight hug. "It's okay. We're going to be okay. Listen to my hearts, alright? Breathe with me."

MJ presses her ear against his chest. She forces the rise and fall of her chest to match his, the steady beating of his hearts a soothing melody. He smells like the chocolate chip pancakes they'd had for breakfast and just a hint of motor oil.

He rubs her back. "It spreads through touch, right?" She nods, craning her head to meet his eyes, and he smiles down at her. "Then we just won't touch 'em, yeah?"

"For now," MJ says. "It spreads through touch for now. It could evolve, become airborne."

"It could," he agrees. "It could do a lot of things. How about we focus for now on what it can do, okay?"

She sniffles. "Okay."

"Hello?"

MJ and the Doctor jump apart at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Before MJ can pull her hunting knife (did she mention her dress has pockets?), Rose calls out, "Hello?"

A tidal wave of relief crashes down on MJ. Rose is okay. She's not a gas mask zombie. Yet, anyway.

MJ grabs the Doctor's hand and drags him into the hallway. Coming their way is Rose and...some white guy. He's very good-looking and perfectly suave in his military uniform.

"Good evening, hope I'm not interrupting. Jack Harkness," the white guy says, shaking the Doctor's hand. "I've been hearing all about you two on the way over."

Jack stops shaking the Doctor's hand and holds his hand out to MJ. The way his eyes rake over her makes her skin crawl. MJ wrinkles her nose and takes a half-step back. Jack drops his hand, looking a touch wounded. She can't bring herself to care. She's not shaking hands with any strangers until this whole contagion thing is over. Especially not sleazy strangers.

"He knows," Rose says. "I had to tell him about us being Time Agents."

MJ and the Doctor nod understandingly.

"And it's a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Spock," Jack says, clapping the Doctor on the shoulder. He nods at MJ. "Miss Winslow."

Then he carries on down the hallway and into the ward MJ and the Doctor had just left.

The Doctor scowls at Rose. "Mr. Spock?"

"What was I supposed to say? You don't have a name," Rose says. "Don't you ever get tired of 'Doctor?' Doctor who?"

"Nine centuries in, I'm coping," the Doctor quips. "Where've you been? We're in the middle of a London Blitz, it's not a good time for a stroll."

"Who's strolling?" Rose counters, walking away. The Doctor and MJ follow, brows furrowed. Rose adds, "I went by barrage balloon. Only way to see an air raid."

"What?" the Doctor demands.

"We leave you alone for five minutes," MJ teases.

Rose rolls her eyes playfully, then shoots the Doctor a questioning look. "Listen, what's a Chula warship?"

The Doctor screeches to a halt and thus, so does MJ. The Doctor stares at the floor, baffled. "Chula?"

MJ tugs on his hand to get him to start walking again. Rose is already in the ward. MJ tilts her head. "You think that's what our bomb-that's-not-a-bomb is? A Chula warship?"

The Doctor's expression darkens. "You got your knife on you?"

"Never leave home without it," she says. "Why? You think we'll need it?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

He holds the door to the ward open for her. "On how forthcoming Rose's new friend is willing to be."

*

"This just isn't possible," Jack Harkness declares. "How did this happen?"

"What kind of Chula ship landed here?" the Doctor asks. He has his arms crossed over his chest. Rose subconsciously mirrors his pose. MJ leans against him, hand in her pocket and wrapped around the handle of her hunting knife.

Jack turns back to them. "What?"

"He said it was a warship," Rose says. "He stole it, parked it somewhere out there. Somewhere a bomb's gonna fall on it. Unless we make him an offer."

MJ's eyes narrow. "Let me guess — half up front, the other half when he delivers?"

Jack glances at her, eyes wide. That's all the confirmation she needs. He's a fucking confidence man. A scammer. Generally, MJ doesn't have a problem with con people or scammers — as long as their targets deserve to be targeted and no one innocent gets hurt in the process. Which clearly isn't the case here.

"What kind of warship?" the Doctor presses.

"Does it matter?" Jack gestures to the patients. "It has nothing to do with this."

"This started at the bomb site," the Doctor tells him, advancing. "It's got everything to do with it. What kind of warship?"

"An ambulance!" Jack admits. He activates some sort of device on his wrist and a blue hologram of the 'warship' appears above it. "Look. This is what you chased through the time vortex. It's space junk. I wanted to kid you it was valuable. It's empty, I made sure of it. Nothing but a shell. I threw it at you. Saw your time travel vehicle, love the retro look, by the way, nice panels, threw you the bait..."

"Bait?" Rose echoes, looking crestfallen.

"I wanted to sell it to you, then destroy it before you found out it was junk," Jack confesses, deactivating the hologram.

Rose's eyes narrow. "You said it was a warship."

"They have ambulances in wars," Jack says. He walks away from them, running his hand through his hair.

MJ laughs humorlessly. "He's a con man. Just a fucking loser who can't get a real job so he targets the easily charmed and swindles them out of their money."

"Hey!" Jack and Rose both exclaim defensively.

Rose plants her hands on her hips. "I am not easily charmed."

"Thought you were Time Agents," Jack says angrily, shaking his head as if they're the ones in the wrong here. "You're not, are you?"

"Just a couple more freelancers," Rose says, an ice to her words that MJ's never heard before.

"Oh!" Jack chuckles. "Should've known, the way you guys are blending in with the local color. Flag Girl was bad enough, but U-boat captain?" Rose and the Doctor glance self-consciously at their clothes while Jack turns his attention to MJ. "At least you're sort of dressed for the period, but you're not dressed for the weather, are you, sweetheart?"

MJ pulls her knife and advances on him, blade raised threateningly. "Call me sweetheart again and I'll cut off whatever pathetic excuse you have for a dick dangling between your legs."

Jack just smiles. His eyes rove over her again, lingering on her bare legs and the neckline of her dress. "Put the knife away and I'd be more than happy to show you what I've got dangling between my legs."

The Doctor tugs MJ behind him, glowering at Jack. "Don't you dare talk to her like that."

Jack's eyes flicker between MJ and the Doctor. He shakes his head, expression growing serious once more. "Whatever's happening here has got nothing to do with that ship."

"What is happening here, Doctor?" Rose asks softly.

"Human DNA is being rewritten," the Doctor says. "By an idiot."

Rose's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, some kind of virus," he says. "Converting human beings into these things. But why? What's the point?"

"Maybe there isn't one," MJ guesses. "Or maybe..." Her eyes sweep over the room. "He keeps asking for his mom. The little boy, patient zero. Nancy's brother Jamie. He keeps asking for his mom. Dr. Constantine's last words were, 'Are you my mummy?'"

The Doctor nods. "He's searching for answers. He might not even be spreading the virus on purpose."

Rose has wandered over to one of the beds. She bends over to examine the body better. Without warning, all of the patients sit up in their beds. Rose jumps back.

"Mummy," the patients all call out, over and over again. "Mummy?"

"What's happening?" Rose asks, hurrying to MJ's side.

"I don't know," the Doctor says.

MJ's grip on her knife tightens at the sight of the patients getting up from their beds. They draw closer, backing MJ, Rose, the Doctor, and Jack up against a wall.

"Don't let them touch you," MJ warns.

Rose's voice shakes. "What happens if they touch us?"

"You're looking at it," the Doctor says.

The gas mask zombies enclose on them, their calls for "Mummy" never ceasing. MJ raises her knife, but she knows it won't be any help. Knives require a close-up attack, and MJ can't risk one of the zombies touching her. If only she could draw her sword and shield, but who knows if they would even work? These gas mask zombies might still qualify as humans.

Her eyes dart around the ward. She could grab one of the metal beds, use that as a weapon and shield. Or maybe—

"Go to your room," the Doctor says sternly.

The gas mask zombies hesitate.

"Go to your room!" the Doctor orders. The zombies tilt their heads questioningly. "I mean it, I'm very, very angry with you. I'm very, very cross. Go...to...your...room!"

He gestures vaguely but forcefully. Wilting as if ashamed, the gas mask zombies slink off and return to their beds — or, in Dr. Constantine's case, his chair.

"I'm really glad that worked," the Doctor says with a grin, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Those would have been terrible last words."

"Gods, you are such an idiot," MJ huffs out, tucking her knife away.

He bumps his hip into hers. He's grinning even wider now. "Your idiot."

"Just until I find the receipt," she retorts. His grin collapses into an overdramatic pout and she taps the tip of his nose with a cheeky smile on her own.

"World's ending and you two are flirting," Rose says, shaking her head as she walks out from behind them. "Typical."

Heat rises to MJ's cheeks, but the Doctor just looks pleased with himself.

Rose kneels at one of the bedsides and shoots MJ a look. "Hey, where'd you get that coat, anyway?"

"Stole it," MJ says casually. She strikes a stylish pose. "It totally goes with my outfit though, right?"

"Oh, so stealing is okay, but being a con man isn't?" Jack scoffs. He plops down into a chair by the desks and kicks his feet up

"Stealing from those who can afford it is okay," MJ corrects. "I mean, when you really think about it, it's hardly even stealing."

Before they can start bickering, Rose asks, "Why are they all wearing gas masks?"

"They're not," Jack says. "Those masks are flesh and bone."

"How was your con supposed to work?" the Doctor asks.

"Simple enough, really," Jack says nonchalantly. "Find some harmless piece of space junk, let the nearest Time Agent track it back to Earth, convince him it's valuable and name a price. When he's put 50% upfront...oops! German bomb falls on it, destroys it forever. He never gets to see what he's paid for, never knows he's been had. I buy him a drink with his own money and we discuss dumb luck. The perfect self-cleaning con."

It's clever. Morally reprehensible to use a very real war to make a quick buck, but clever.

"Yeah. Perfect," the Doctor says coldly.

"The London Blitz is great for self-cleaners," Jack brags. "Pompeii's nice if you want to make a vacation of it, though. But you've got to set your alarm for Volcano Day."

He laughs, and MJ debates breaking his nose. The Doctor's glaring too.

Jack's laughter dies out and his smug smile fades. "Getting a hint of disapproval."

"Take a look around the room," the Doctor says. "This is what your piece of harmless space junk did."

"It was a burnt-out medical transporter, it was empty," Jack insists.

The Doctor glares some more, then heads for the ward doors. "Ladies."

"Are we getting out of here?" Rose asks.

"We're going upstairs," the Doctor says.

"Room 802," MJ recites.

Behind them, Jack gets to his feet. "I programmed the flight computer so it wouldn't land on anything living. I harmed no one! I don't know what's happening here but I had nothing to do with it."

"I'll tell you what's happening," the Doctor sneers. "You forgot to set your alarm clock. It's Volcano Day."

MJ startles at the sound of a siren in the distance.

Rose looks up at the ceiling. "What's that?"

"The all-clear," Jack says.

"I wish," the Doctor says.

He pushes through the doors, MJ on his heels. They run down the corridor, then hurry up a flight of stairs. Before they can go to the next floor, MJ stops him, hand on his arm.

"He landed that ambulance right on poor little Jamie's dead body, didn't he?" MJ says. "Jamie was killed in the air raid and then Jack 'Asshat' Harkness landed an ambulance on that little boy's corpse, and it turned Jamie into what he is now."

The Doctor sets his jaw. "That's a very solid theory."

They've just rounded the banister when they hear the cacophony of footsteps thudding down the hallway.

"Mr. Spock?" Jack calls out.

"Doctor?" Rose yells.

The Doctor pops his head around the banister as they run past. "Do you have a blaster?"

Rose and Jack skid to a halt and rush to the bottom of the staircase.

"Sure," Jack says. He hurries up the stairs, Rose following close behind.

The four of them go to Room 802, just as Dr. Constantine had said to.

"The night your space junk landed, someone was hurt," the Doctor says. He gestures to the locked door. "This is where they were taken."

"What happened?" Rose asks.

"Let's find out," the Doctor says. Hitching his thumb at the door, he orders Jack, "Get it open."

The Doctor pulls MJ and Rose aside to let Jack work.

"What's wrong with your sonic screwdriver?" Rose questions.

"Nothing," the Doctor says with a slight shrug.

MJ watches Jack's blaster cut a perfectly square hole around the door's lock. With the lock gone, the door swings open easily.

"Sonic blaster, 51st century," the Doctor notes. "Weapon factories of Villengard?"

"You've been to the factories?" Jack asks incredulously.

"Once," the Doctor says, taking the blaster from Jack and turning it over in his hands. MJ presses up against him to get a good look. It really doesn't look all that fancy, but it's quite clearly higher-tech than a normal gun.

"They're gone now, destroyed," Jack says. "Main reactor went critical, vaporized the lot."

"Like I said, once," the Doctor says. He passes the blaster back to Jack. "There's a banana grove there, now. I like bananas. Bananas are good."

The Doctor flashes Jack a smile and then he and MJ walk into Room 802. Or, maybe more accurately, the observation room for Room 802.

"I'd prefer if you didn't do that, you know," the Doctor whispers to her as they search for a light.

"Do what?" MJ whispers back.

"Press up against me like that," he says. He finds the switch and turns the lights on, revealing the red tips of his ears.

MJ grins and presses up against him again — she hadn't noticed before, but it smushes her breasts into his chest, pushing them up and giving him a perfect view down her collar. "Oh, you mean like this?"

His gaze immediately falls to her cleavage. "Minx."

"Not my fault you're a perv," she teases, backing up.

Her eyes sweep over the room. It's trashed — the observation window is shattered with the glass all over the equipment, meaning it was broken from inside. Files and overturned chairs litter the floor.

"What do you think?" the Doctor asks as Rose and Jack join them.

"Something got out of here," Jack says.

MJ rolls her eyes. "Yeah, duh. And?"

"Something powerful," Jack adds. "Angry."

The Doctor nods. "Powerful and angry."

"Sounds like MJ," Rose jokes half-heartedly.

"No, I'm sure I'm much better looking," MJ says offhandedly.

Jack enters the patient side of Room 802. MJ and Rose follow him through the open doorway. The room is covered in a child's drawings — they're scattered on the floor and pinned on the wall. MJ spots a couple of toys, all in decent condition. The child-sized bed has a metal frame like the ones downstairs, but it's a slightly more intricate design. Despite the mess and the bed being off-kilter, the bed looks made.

"A child?" Jack says incredulously. "I suppose this explains 'mummy.'"

Rose shakes her head in disbelief. "How could a child do this?"

"You'd be surprised," MJ mumbles.

The Doctor turns on a recording.

"Do you know where you are?" Dr. Constantine asks on the tape.

The boy answers with a question of his own. "Are you my mummy?"

"Are you aware of what's around you? Can you...see?"

"Are you my mummy?"

"What do you want? Do you know—"

"I want my mummy!" the boy cuts in. "Are you my mummy? I want my mummy."

MJ looks at the drawings again and her heart drops. Every single one is of the boy's mom, but since he doesn't know what she looks like, he's drawn her differently in every one. Sometimes she has dark hair and green eyes, sometimes she has red hair and blue eyes. Sometimes she's so tall she takes up the whole paper, sometimes she's short. Sometimes she's smiling, sometimes she's frowning.

"Doctor, I've heard this voice before," Rose says, pointing at the tape.

"Us, too," the Doctor says.

"Always 'Are you my mummy?'" Rose notes. "Like he doesn't know. Why doesn't he know?"

"Knowing who both your parents are is a privilege most take for granted," MJ says softly, fingers brushing against one of the many drawings. "Gods, this poor baby. He just wants to know who she is. He just wants to know who he is."

She knows the feeling. She knows it so well that it awakens that old ache in her chest. She'd spent almost thirteen years of her life wondering who her father is, only to be claimed by Athena on her first day at camp — that was before she learned it didn't matter what genders the gods usually are and that they'll always find a way to have a kid with who they want. And in the years since, how many unclaimed campers has she seen? How many children have tried everything to 'earn' their godly parent's attention, only to come up empty every time? How many 'aged out' and never came back, their godly heritage still a giant question mark?

On the tape, the child is still calling out for his mom. Still looking for an answer he might never find.

The Doctor walks into the boy's room and starts pacing.

Rose watches him worriedly. "Doctor?"

"Can you sense it?" he asks.

"Sense what?" Jack questions.

"Coming out of the walls. Can you feel it?" He stops and looks at them. "Funny little human brains. How do you get around in those things?"

"When he's stressed, he likes to insult species," Rose tells Jack.

"Rose, I'm thinking!" the Doctor exclaims.

"Cuts himself shaving," Rose teases, "does half an hour on life-forms he's cleverer than."

"For fuck's sake, MJ!" the Doctor cries out, and MJ whips around to face him, wondering what the fuck she'd done to earn such a reaction. But as stressed as he is, his eyes are kind and soft when they meet hers. "How are you always right? How do you always figure things out before me?"

MJ gives him her 'You just something really dumb' face. "Because I'm a genius. Duh."

"Think you could catch us non-genuises up?" Rose asks, looking more amused than annoyed.

"There are these children," the Doctor explains. "Living rough 'round the bomb sites. They come out during air raids, looking for food. Suppose they were there when this thing, whatever it was, landed."

"It was a med-ship," Jack says. "It was harmless."

"Yes, you keep saying, 'harmless,'" the Doctor says exasperatedly. He turns back to Rose. "Suppose one was affected. Altered."

"Altered how?" Rose presses.

"I'm here!" Jamie announces on the tape.

MJ's brow furrows. Why would he say that to Dr. Constantine? She goes over to the broken window and yeah, that's what she was afraid of. The tape's just run out. That wasn't past-Jamie gleefully announcing his presence. It's present-Jamie.

"It's afraid, terribly afraid and powerful," the Doctor says. "It doesn't know it yet. But it will do." He lets out a laugh. "It's got the power of a god and I just sent it to its room."

A crackling noise fills the room — the sound of the tape running out.

"Yeah, about that," MJ speaks up, her voice shooting up an octave. She grabs Rose's hand for comfort — both hers and Rose's. "Where are we standing right now?"

"Room 802," the Doctor says.

"And what's Room 802?"

"I'm here," Jamie sing-songs. "Can't you see me?"

"What's that noise?" Rose questions fearfully. She's squeezing MJ's hand so tight that MJ would be worried about her bones breaking if she weren't a demigod.

The Doctor's smile fades. "End of the tape. It ran out about thirty seconds ago."

"I'm here now," Jamie says. "Can't you see me?"

"Room 802," the Doctor realizes. "I sent it to its room. This is its room."

The Doctor whirls around to see Jamie — because it is Jamie, even if he's 'empty' now — standing by the tape machine.

"Are you my mummy?" Jamie asks. He seems to look right at Rose, tilting his head. "Mummy?"

MJ's heart breaks. She can't even bring herself to be afraid anymore. It's not Jamie's fault Jack parked a Chula med-ship on top of his corpse and it turned him into...this. He probably doesn't have any real idea what he's doing — Dr. Constantine had mentioned there were no life signs of any kind, so Jamie and the other victims most likely have very limited brain function if they have any at all. He died wanting his mom, and he searches for her still, even in death.

It's not a horror story. It's a Greek tragedy.

"Okay, on my signal, make for the door," Jack says. He moves to stand just behind the Doctor, ending up on MJ's right. "Now!"

He whips out a banana and aims it at Jamie as if it's a gun. The Doctor grins and pulls out Jack's blaster. He cuts a large square hole in the wall.

"Go! Now!" the Doctor urges. "Don't drop the banana!"

"Why not?" Jack asks.

MJ helps him and Rose through the hole in the wall, then hops through herself.

"Good source of potassium!" the Doctor answers, right behind her.

"Give me that!" Jack snaps, snatching his blaster from the Doctor's hand.

"Mummy?" Jamie calls, walking toward the hole in the wall. "I want my mummy."

Jack uses his blaster to fix the hole, buying them a little time.

"Digital rewind," Jack says. He tosses the banana to the Doctor. "Nice switch."

"It's from the groves of Villengard," the Doctor says. "Thought it was appropriate."

Jack scoffs. "There's really a banana grove in Villengard? And you did that?"

"Bananas are good," the Doctor says simply, grinning like an idiot. Despite everything, MJ smiles back.

The moment is ruined when the wall in front of them starts to crack.

Rose's jaw drops. "Guys!"

"Come on!" the Doctor yells.

They run down a short flight of stairs and down another corridor. They screech to a halt when the doors in front of them open and the other patients come walking through. MJ, her friends, and Jack run back the way they came, hoping to escape that way, but they're thwarted by more patients, still calling for mummy.

Now they're right back where they started and Jamie's still breaking down the wall.

"It's keeping us here so it can get at us," the Doctor says.

Jack points his blaster every which way, not sure where to aim. "It's controlling them?"

"It is them," the Doctor explains. "It's every living thing in this hospital."

Jack takes a deep breath. "Okay. This can function as a sonic blaster, a sonic cannon, and it's a triple-enfolded sonic disruptor. I know MJ's got a knife. Doc, what you got?"

"I've got a sonic, er..." The Doctor brandishes his sonic screwdriver and grimaces. "Oh, never mind."

The zombies press in. Jack faces the horde to the left while MJ and the Doctor face the horde to the right. Rose stands in the middle, staring at the wall Jamie's breaking down.

"What?" Jack asks.

The tips of the Doctor's ears have gone pink. "It's sonic, okay? Let's leave it at that."

"Disruptor? Cannon? What?" Jack presses.

"It is sonic, it is totally sonic, I am sonic-ed up!" the Doctor rambles.

"A sonic what?" Jack demands.

"Screwdriver!" the Doctor yells.

In the midst of all the chaos, MJ and Rose's eyes meet. Rose gestures to Jack's blaster with a jerk of her head, and MJ nods. Rose nods back, a plan made.

The wall breaks, revealing Jamie. He starts to climb through the hole. They're out of time. Since the boys are clearly not getting them out of this, Rose's plan it is. Rose grabs Jack's wrist and forces the barrel of the sonic blaster to aim at the floor.

"Going down!" Rose and MJ chorus.

Rose blasts a hole in the floor. All four of them fall through to the floor below in an awkward, messy heap. Jack recovers quick enough to pull his digital rewind trick again, sealing up the hole in the floor. Well, in the ceiling now.

"Doctor, are you okay?" Rose asks. She doesn't ask MJ because she doesn't have to — MJ's the first to her feet, after all. MJ helps Rose up, and then the Doctor.

"Could've used a warning," the Doctor grumbles.

"Ugh, the gratitude," Rose complains.

"Who has a sonic screwdriver?" Jack inquires.

"I do," the Doctor says defensively.

"Help me look for lights," Rose whispers to MJ.

MJ nods. The two of them split off in search of a light switch while the boys bicker.

"Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks 'Ooh, this could be more sonic?'" Jack mocks.

"What, you've never been bored?" the Doctor asks indignantly. "Never had a long night? Never had a lot of cabinets to put up?"

"Found it," Rose calls out a split second before she flips the switch.

The lights come on, revealing that they're in another fully occupied ward. As soon as the lights turn on, every gas mask zombie sits up in their bed and starts asking for mummy. Great. MJ was really hoping there'd be more of them.

"Door," Jack points out. They follow him to the opposite end of the ward. He aims his sonic blaster at the doors, but nothing happens. He whacks the blaster. "Damn it!"

Jack steps back and the Doctor immediately takes his place at the door. MJ's not sure he's ever looked smugger, unlocking the door with his sonic screwdriver.

"It's the special features," Jack tells Rose. "They really drain the battery."

"The battery?" Rose cries out incredulously. The Doctor gets the door open and MJ waves her friends through before following. Rose scowls. "That's so lame."

MJ slams the door shut behind her and the Doctor gets to work locking it with the sonic.

"I was going to send for another one," Jack says, hopping up onto a table to inspect the only window. It's barred because of course it is, "but somebody's got to blow up the factory."

"Oh, I know," Rose says. "First day I met him, he blew my job up. That's practically how he communicates."

"Okay, that door should hold it for a bit," the Doctor announces.

"The door? The wall didn't stop it!" Jack reminds him.

"It's got to find us first!" the Doctor barks out.

MJ's eyes narrow. "Stop calling him 'it!'" She whirls on Jack. "And you! You were going to shoot Jamie!"

Jack looks at her as if she's grown a second head. "Who the fuck is Jamie?"

"The little boy whose corpse you parked a Chula med-ship on," MJ snaps. "His name was Jamie. He died wanting his mom and now it's all he knows."

Jack's face softens. "Is...is that what I did?"

The Doctor glances between them, then claps his hands together. "Come on, we're not done yet. Assets."

"Well, I've got a banana and, in a pinch, you could put some shelves," Jack snarks, back to his suave con man persona.

"Window?" the Doctor inquires, hopping up onto the table to peer through the bars.

"Barred," Jack reports. "Sheer drop. Seven stories. And no other exits." He takes a seat, lounging as if they're at the beach. "The assets conversation went in a flash, didn't it?"

The Doctor turns away from the window to narrow his eyes at Jack, and then he looks down at Rose. "Where'd you pick this one up, then?"

"Doctor," Rose says warningly.

MJ has no doubt in her mind that Rose slaps as hard as her mom. The Doctor is playing with fire here.

"She was hanging from a barrage balloon," Jack says with a charming smile, "I had an invisible spaceship. I never stood a chance."

Rose blushes, ducking her head slightly. MJ raises her eyebrows. So...maybe Rose and Mickey did break up? Or they opened up their relationship? Or maybe Rose is just cheating on Mickey with every white pretty boy she finds. Hm. It better not be that last one or MJ'll lose so much respect for her.

"Okay, one," the Doctor says, still inspecting the window, "we want to get out of here. Two, we can't get out of here. Have I missed anything?"

MJ digs through her pockets. She doesn't think she stuck the celestial bronze cube from Adam's workshop in her pockets, but maybe she did, and maybe it is a bomb which...okay, wouldn't actually be that helpful, but it'd be a start!

"Yeah," Rose says, voice soft with wonder. "Jack just disappeared."

The Doctor and MJ whirl around to see an empty chair and no con man.

MJ throws her head back with a groan. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

The Doctor hops down from the table against the back wall. He and MJ exchange annoyed looks, and then the Doctor sits down in the nearest chair to sulk. MJ moves things over to sit on the table behind him. She kicks her feet absentmindedly, trying to think of some way to get them out of this stupid storeroom.

"Okay, so he's vanished into thin air," Rose says after a few minutes of tense, awkward silence. Or maybe it's been an hour. Who knows and at this point, who cares? "Why is it always the great-looking ones who do that?"

The Doctor looks up at her, frowning. "I'm making an effort not to be insulted."

Rose waves her hand dismissively. "I mean...men."

He smiles sarcastically. "Okay. Thanks. That really helped."

"Don't listen to her," MJ tells him. "The great-looking ones always disappear for her. My great-looking ones always stay."

The Doctor beams at that.

An old radio lying on its side, abandoned on a shelf, turns itself on, and Jack's voice comes through the grill. "Ladies? Doctor? Can you hear me?"

They all spring to their feet and run to the radio. The Doctor turns the radio upright.

"Back on my ship," Jack says. "Used the emergency teleport. Sorry, I couldn't take you."

The Doctor holds up a bundle of wires — wires ripped out of the radio. By all appearances, the radio shouldn't be able to turn on, let alone transmit sound. So how is Jack using it to communicate?

"It's security-keyed to my molecular structure," Jack keeps explaining, none the wiser. "I'm working on it. Hang in there."

"How are you speaking to us?" the Doctor asks.

"Om-Com," Jack says. "I can call anything with a speaker grille."

The Doctor meets MJ's eyes. "Now there's a coincidence."

"What is?" Jack asks.

"The child—" the Doctor cuts himself off at the dirty look MJ shoots him. "Jamie can Om-Com, too."

Rose furrows her brow. "He can?"

The Doctor nods. "Anything with a speaker grille. Even the TARDIS phone."

"What, you mean the child can phone us?" Rose asks.

"And I can hear you," Jamie announces over the radio. "Coming to find you. Coming to find you."

Jack's voice crackles through the grille. "Doctor, can you hear that?"

"Loud and clear," the Doctor says.

"I'll try to block out the signal," Jack says. "'Least I can do."

"Wait," MJ speaks up. "Don't block him out. I want to talk to him."

The Doctor's face softens. "MJ, you can't get through to him. There's not enough of him left."

"You don't know that," MJ argues. "Please, at least let me try."

"Coming to find you, mummy!" Jamie sings.

MJ looks at the Doctor with big, pleading eyes. "Please. Just let me try."

The Doctor glances between her and the radio a couple of times. Then he sighs, his shoulders sagging. "Don't block the signal just yet, Jack."

MJ leans close to the radio. "Jamie? Jamie, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," Jamie confirms.

MJ takes a deep breath. This is a big risk. Her talking to him could lead him and his gas mask pals right to MJ and her friends, and then they'd be truly, properly fucked. But she has to try. None of this is Jamie's fault. He's just a little kid who wants his mom.

"I know you want your mommy, Jamie," MJ says. She closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the radio. "I want my mommy too. I haven't seen her in so long. Not really. And I miss her a lot."

"Are you my mummy?" Jamie asks. Someone else might take that as a defeat, but MJ's not just anyone. She hears the slightest change in his tone, and she runs with it.

"I'm not your mommy, Jamie," MJ says calmly. "But I can help you find her, okay? Me and my friends, we can help you. You just have to let us out of this hospital, and then we can find your mommy."

Jamie's voice comes through, a little quieter. "Mummy?"

"I get it," MJ tells him. Tears roll down her cheeks. "The not knowing is the worst. For the first almost thirteen years of my life, I didn't know who my dad was, and it made me really sad. The kids at school used to make fun of me for that. They made me feel like it was my fault he wasn't around. But it wasn't my fault, Jamie, and it's not your fault you don't know who your mommy is."

She pulls away from the radio, wiping at her eyes. "I found my dad, Jamie. It took me a long time but I found him. I found my daddy and I can find your mommy. If you let me and my friends leave, we can find your mommy, I promise."

The line goes silent.

MJ sniffles. "Jamie? Are you still there?"

"Coming to find you, mummy," Jamie says, back to his gleeful tone, and it breaks MJ's heart.

The Doctor was right. There's not enough of him left.

MJ walks away from the radio, hand clamped over her mouth to keep her sobs from spilling out. Rose follows her over. She wraps an arm around MJ's shoulders and holds her close.

"Block the signal," the Doctor tells Jack.

"Yes, siree," Jack says, far too cheerful for MJ's liking. "Remember this one, Rose?"

Moonlight Serenade plays over the defunct radio. MJ pulls away from Rose, raising her eyebrows.

Rose smiles awkwardly. "Our song."

*

The Doctor's back on top of the table, buzzing the window's bars with his sonic. MJ sits by his feet — her eyes are still a little red, but the tear tracks down her cheeks have dried, and she's stopped sniffling. Rose has claimed the old-timey wheelchair Jack was sitting in. She shuffles around the room in the wheelchair in a desperate attempt to alleviate her boredom.

Eventually, she gets sick of that and spins around to look at the Doctor. "What you doing?"

"Trying to set up a resonation pattern in the concrete," the Doctor explains. "Loosen the bars."

"You don't think he's coming back, do ya?" Rose asks.

"Wouldn't bet my life," the Doctor says.

Rose rolls forward in her wheelchair, looking oddly amused. "Why don't you trust him?"

"Why do you?" the Doctor counters.

"Saved my life," Rose says. Grinning cheekily, she adds, "Bloke-wise, that's up there with flossing."

MJ tilts her head. "I have some concerns about the men you've been dating."

Rose giggles, but it dies out quickly. Her gaze switches back to the Doctor. "I trust him because he's like you. Except with dating and dancing."

The Doctor glances at her, then turns his attention back to the window, shaking his head.

"What?" Rose questions.

"You just assume I'm—"

"What?" Rose reiterates.

"You just assume I don't...dance," the Doctor says.

"What?" Rose goads, grinning once more as she rolls back and forth in her wheelchair. "Are you telling me you do dance?"

"Nine hundred years old, me," he says. "I've been around a bit. I think you can assume at some point I've danced."

"You?"

"Problem?"

MJ glances between them. She's starting to think they're not talking about actual dancing.

"Doesn't the universe implode or something if you...dance?" Rose teases.

"Well, I've got the moves but I wouldn't want to boast," the Doctor says offhandedly.

MJ almost misses the way his gaze flickers to her for just a second. So...no, she's totally lost. Are they talking about actual dancing or are they using dancing as an euphemism for sex? How big of an idiot would she sound like if she asked?

Her thoughts are interrupted by Rose turning up the volume on the radio. Rose strolls over to the Doctor, moving like a predator approaching her prey, and grinning like a cat that's almost caught the mouse.

She gestures widely to the expanse of open floor. "You've got the moves? Show us your moves."

"Rose, I'm trying to resonate concrete," the Doctor says.

"Jack'll be back," Rose assures him. "He'll get us out. So come on, the world doesn't end 'cos the Doctor dances."

So they are talking about actual dancing? Oh, this is giving MJ a headache. She should just ask for clarification, but she's guessing it would make the weird atmosphere in the room even weirder. They have to be talking about actual dancing, right? Rose wouldn't really suggest them having sex as a way to pass the time until Jack rescues them. No, that's ridiculous.

Right?

The Doctor tucks his sonic away and walks toward Rose. This is fine, MJ thinks. It's just dancing. Friends dance all of the time. Unless she's wrong and they are using dancing as a euphemism, in which case, things are about to get really, really awkward.

The Doctor takes Rose's hands in his and turns them over. He eyes her warily. "Barrage balloon?"

Now Rose looks as lost as MJ feels. "What?"

"You were hanging from a barrage balloon," the Doctor says, still inspecting her hands.

"Oh, yeah," Rose says with a slight laugh. "About two minutes after you guys left me. Thousands of feet above London, middle of a German air raid, Union Jack all over my chest."

"I've traveled with a lot of people," the Doctor says, "but you're setting new records for jeopardy-friendly."

MJ feels a pang in her chest. She's known, of course, that the Doctor has traveled with other people, even if she only knows the name of one of them — Susan, his granddaughter. Still, something about the reminder — that she and Rose aren't the first, that they're two of many, that they're nothing special — stings. Has he kissed anyone else he's traveled with like he kissed her? Is she just the latest in a long line of starry-eyed young women who've fallen for him?

"Is this you dancing?" Rose teases. "'Cos I've got notes."

"Hanging from a rope, thousands of feet above London," the Doctor says and lets Rose's hands go. "Not a cut, not a bruise."

"Yeah, I know," Rose says, inspecting her hands now. "Captain Jack fixed me up."

"Oh, we're calling him Captain Jack now, are we?"

"Well, his name's Jack and he's a captain..."

Should she remind them that she's in the room? Because with every passing second, it's starting to feel more and more like they've forgotten.

"He's not really a captain, Rose," the Doctor says.

"D'you know what I think?" Rose asks, smirking. "I think you're experiencing captain envy."

MJ presses her lips together. Okay, cool. So they're just flirting in front of her as if she's not there. That's awesome. No, that's so great. It's really just the maraschino cherry on top of the hot fudge sundae that today has been.

Rose and the Doctor start actually dancing now, and MJ averts her eyes. She should've expected this. She should've known this was going to happen as soon as she told the Doctor she wasn't ready for a relationship. He'd said he'd wait, but why would he? MJ's nothing special, right? She's just another stupid human desperate to feel like she matters.

Rose would be easier to love, MJ thinks. She's kinder, gentler, less angry, less argumentative, and she's not keeping half her life from him. Rose is the kind of girl that guys actually want. She's beautiful and sweet, but she's not a doormat. She's empathetic and funny.

Luke's voice echoes in MJ's head. You really think anyone will ever love you except for me? You're mine, MJ.

The room shifts and lurches, and suddenly MJ is falling backward into Jack's open arms. They're in his ship. He finally got the teleport to work. And yet Rose and the Doctor are still dancing, completely unperturbed by the change of location, and looking at each other like they're the only two people in the entire universe. How the fuck did this happen so quickly? Not too long ago, Rose was insulting the Doctor's looks and now there's barely any space between them.

Jack steadies MJ. His debonair smile fades to something more genuine when he sees the look on her face. "Hey, you okay? Teleport not agree with you or something?"

Feeling every bit the child she pretends not to be, MJ mumbles, "I wanna go home."

And she doesn't mean the TARDIS. She cringes inwardly at how quickly she'd let the blue box become 'home' to her. Gods, she's so pathetic. She always needs someone or something to cling to, to depend upon. For years, it was Luke, and now that he's gone, she's just latched onto the Doctor like a stupid little girl.

So no, she doesn't mean the TARDIS. But surprisingly, she doesn't mean Camp Half-Blood either. Right now, for whatever reason, home is that shitty apartment she lived in with her mom. Home is their building full of amazing neighbors, a kind and wonderful community that helped raise MJ as much as her mom did. Home is the rooftop with its (struggling) garden, and the sidewalk eternally marked with chalk. Home is a girl with thunderstorms in her veins, and home is the woman who called MJ the greatest thing that ever happened to her. Home is a past that's long gone. 

It's a childhood she's never getting back.

*

ok ok before anyone gets too mad, keep in mind we're seeing everything through mj's eyes and her interpretation of what's happening and people's behavior may be inaccurate!!!! mj is only 18 and, despite being a genius, isn't always perfectly rational and also her fatal flaw is pride

oh!! i forgot to ask y'all last week so let me ask now - how much of a slowburn do you guys want for doctormj?

also uh...i apologize in advance for next chapter :)