trigger warning(s): none

*

The next day, Bill joins them once again for breakfast. Once they're all done eating, MJ claps her hands together. "So, what's the agenda for today? I think I'm ready for an adventure."

"No adventures today, I'm afraid," the Doctor says. "I told Bill I'd help her move, but we wanted to make sure you were okay first."

"I can help you move," MJ says almost indignantly. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, you know."

"Oh, I know," Bill laughs. "And I'd love the help if you're up for it."

MJ lights up. "Of course, I'm up for it! I just have to get dressed."

"Go ahead," the Doctor says. "We'll do the cleaning up."

"It's still weird to me that you guys live in here," Bill says as MJ gets up.

"Where else would we live?" MJ asks, frowning.

Bill shrugs, getting up too. "I dunno. In like, a flat or something. Maybe a house. I can see you two owning a house with like, a nice yard and lots of knickknacks. And you'd have a cat, of course."

"Oh, I have always wanted a cat," MJ admits. "Or just any pet, really."

Bill tilts her head. "Well, don't you—"

"Spoilers!" the Doctor and Nardole shout, startling both Bill and MJ.

"Shit, sorry," Bill says with a wince. She looks back at MJ. "Do you want help dressing for 2017? The Doctor mentioned you just came from 2006, so."

"I would love help picking out an outfit!" MJ gushes. "And judging by what you're wearing, I'm in good hands."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Bill declares, linking arms. As she and MJ leave the kitchen, she calls over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, "Have fun cleaning you two!"

MJ narrows her eyes, suppressing a smirk. "Did you just use me to get out of helping clean up?"

"Oh, absolutely," Bill says. "But also the prospect of the MJ Winslow needing my fashion advice was too exciting to pass up."

MJ laughs. "You know what, Bill? I think we're going to get along splendidly."

*

In the end, they decide on light-wash high-waist jeans, a colorful striped short-sleeve shirt, and a pair of mustard yellow Converse that MJ embroidered with flowers a few years ago. MJ ties her hair back in a low ponytail. She finishes the look with her beloved Snoopy watch, her camp necklace, and, as always, her sword-and-shield ring.

Before they leave her room, MJ examines herself in her floor-length mirror — more specifically, her new scars. They're much subtler than she'd expected. It looks like she got them years ago instead of, well, yesterday. Though, if they're in 2017, then technically speaking MJ did get them years ago. She runs her fingers along the scars on her neck, her lips curling into a smile. Gods, she looks badass.

"You really are so stupidly beautiful," Bill comments as they head to the console room. "It's a bit infuriating, to be honest."

"My sincerest apologies," MJ jokes. "I'll try to be less conventionally attractive from now on."

"I'd really appreciate that, thanks."

The Doctor is waiting for them on one of the black chairs, drawing in a pocket-sized leather-bound sketchbook. When he notices them come in, he jumps to his feet and shoves the sketchbook into his pocket. "All ready to go?"

"Yep," MJ says brightly. "I'm excited to see 2017."

"It's really not that great," Bill says with a grimace. "But I suppose it is better than 2006." She hops up to sit on the edge of the console and swings her feet a little. "Do you want the postcode?"

The Doctor frowns. "What?"

"To find the house," she says.

"Bill, the TARDIS uses multi-dimensional space-time coordinates," the Doctor says exasperatedly, almost offended that Bill would ask such a thing.

Bill lifts her eyebrows. "So you know where it is?"

The Doctor gapes at her for a few seconds before surrendering. "Okay, right, put the postcode in here."

He directs her to a certain part of the console while MJ wanders up the stairs, inspecting the bookcases and trailing her fingers along the spines.

"Done?" the Doctor asks.

"Yeah," Bill says. "Hey, how come I never see you in pajamas like I do MJ? Don't you sleep?"

The Doctor pulls a lever. MJ hears the telltale sound of the TARDIS moving and almost feels it a little in the pit of her stomach, but the room is perfectly still. She bites back a laugh. How many years did it take, she wonders, before he admitted it would be a good idea to use the stabilizers?

"Sleep's for tortoises," the Doctor says.

"Not 'Time Lords?'" Bill teases. MJ watches them from the balcony, arms folded on the railing.

"No," he says. "Unless we've regenerated, or had a big lunch."

"Regenerated?"

MJ can't see the Doctor's face from where she's standing, but she can see the way he tenses up, if only for a few seconds. He turns back to Bill with a forced smile. "Oh, the questions. The questions, the questions. Just remember 'Time Lords.' That's enough for now."

This Doctor talks a lot with his hands, she notes. His very nice hands.

The wheezing stops and the Doctor spreads his hands as if surprised. "Oh, here we are."

*

Bill and the Doctor leave the TARDIS with a box each. MJ carries a stack of three.

"Oh, I'll use the TARDIS. Take it all to your room," the Doctor offers when Bill sets her box down by the...is that a wrought iron gate covered in ivy?

MJ sets her stack down to get a better look at Bill's new place. It's very nice. Too nice. While they were picking out MJ's outfit, Bill mentioned she was sharing the place with five other students, but even with six of them paying the bills, MJ can't see how six students could afford a house like this. It has a tower, for Hera's sake. Something's not right here.

"Firstly, I don't know which one my room is," Bill says. "And secondly, that's weird. And I want to make a good impression. It's cool. MJ and I'll just take everything in and then you can go."

The Doctor comes to a stop by MJ's side. She tears her eyes away from the tower to look at him. She can see the suspicion in the crease of his brow and the curve of his lips. Bill says something, but MJ's too busy listening to the creaking trees to pay attention. Why are they so damn creaky?

He turns back to Bill, hitching his thumb at the house. "That's your house?"

"Sharing, yeah," Bill says. "Six of us. Renting."

"I thought you were students," the Doctor says.

Bill joins them at the front gate, hands on her hips. "Yeah, I was like 'What's the catch?' But actually, it's fine. Just a bit drafty."

"Drafty?" he echoes. He sticks his finger in his mouth and then holds it up to test the wind direction. But there is no wind.

MJ takes another look around. There's something distinctly foreboding about the brick exterior and shuddered windows. And that damn creaking. It's really getting on her nerves.

"I mean drafty inside," Bill tells him.

"Interesting," he says. He makes a face like he's had an epiphany. "I'll help you in."

"No, no, no, it's fine," Bill says as he bends down to pick up the box she'd set down earlier. "You really don't have to. MJ and I got this, you can just wait in the TARDIS."

"Really not a problem," the Doctor assures her, hurrying toward the house.

MJ picks up her stack of boxes and trails after him, Bill's protests going ignored.

*

The interior of the house is even creepier than the outside somehow. All of the walls are dark, whether they're wood-paneled or painted red, making the hallways feel more cramped than they really are. The lighting is warm but not bright enough to offset the darkness of the decor. Small animal skulls hang on the wall and there's a curio cabinet further down the hall.

"I think we're in the beginning of a horror movie," MJ whispers to the Doctor as they carry Bill's stuff in.

"Let's hope not," he whispers back.

"Hey!" a brown-skinned girl Bill's age exclaims, joining them in the hallway. She must be Bill's friend Shireen. "Where have you been? I thought..." She catches sight of the Doctor and MJ. "Ah! You're the Doctor and MJ?"

"Yes, hi," the Doctor says. "Can I get past?"

"Oh, yeah," Bill says. "They're just helping with the move."

Shireen looks confused. "Helping?"

"They're just my..."

"Friends," the Doctor supplies.

"Grandad," Bill settles on. She nods to herself. "Yes, the Doctor is my grandad and MJ is my girlfriend."

The Doctor protests, "Wait, I don't look old enough—"

"To hold that box for very long," Bill interrupts, taking the box from him. She sets it down on top of the stack. "There."

The Doctor wanders further down the hallway, MJ on his heels.

"How exciting is this?" another girl gushes, coming down the stairs. She has gorgeous waist-length black hair that MJ can't help but feel a little jealous of.

Two white boys follow her down the stairs.

"Oh, wow!" the boy in the blue shirt says. "Doctor! Legend!"

He holds his hand up for a high five. He doesn't get one.

"He's my grandad," Bill lies.

"Ah, come on," the Doctor complains. "Father, at least, please."

"Alright," Bill says awkwardly. "Grandfather." She lets out a little laugh and walks up to him. "You really can go now, though. Thanks for the help." She gives him two thumbs up. "Job done."

The Doctor glances behind him, eyeing the staircase. MJ wonders if he can hear the classical music coming from upstairs too."Okay. Bye."

He heads for the door and MJ trails after him. Shireen stops her with a hand on her arm. "Oh, you don't have to go, MJ. You're Bill's girlfriend, you'll probably be around all the time anyway. Why not start now?"

"You're Bill's girlfriend?" the guy in the striped shirt asks, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Yep, that's me," MJ says, startling them all.

The girl with the gorgeous hair gasps. "And you're American!"

The boy in the blue shirt gestures at her vaguely. "Haven't I seen you around before?"

"How would I know if you've seen me around?" MJ asks, brow furrowed. "And uh, I can't stay, actually. I have an appointment I gotta get to. But maybe I can come by later?"

"No worries if you can't," Bill says hurriedly. "Bye, then."

MJ hesitates, then darts forward and presses a lip to Bill's cheek. "Have fun settling in, babe."

And then she follows the Doctor out of the house, her cheeks warm.

"Babe?" the Doctor echoes disdainfully.

"I don't know, I felt like a pet name was the right move but I couldn't think of anything good," MJ says, jamming her hands into her back pockets. They stop at the gate and turn back around to study the house. "Did you hear the music?"

"Coming from upstairs? Yeah," he says. "You heard the creaking?"

She snorts. "Kind of hard to miss."

"Something is very wrong here," the Doctor says, gaze drifting to the tower.

MJ smirks and bumps her hip into his. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, I think an investigation is in order," the Doctor declares. He offers her his hand. "Shall we?"

"I think we shall."

*

Hand-in-hand, MJ and the Doctor do a thorough inspection of the house, inside and out.

Their investigation starts with the grounds.

It takes MJ a while to figure out why the grounds are so unsettling. No birds fly overhead or drink from the decrepit birdbath. Bees don't buzz around the flowers. Butterflies don't flap their colorful wings, drawing the eye. The tree branches are void of squirrels. It makes the grounds feel, even with all of its foliage, completely lifeless.

"What's that face?" the Doctor asks, watching her inspect a pond that's more muck than water.

"There's no fauna here," she tells him. "No birds, no bees, no butterflies, no squirrels or bunnies or anything."

"So," the Doctor says, "it's a house seemingly unsuitable for humans, and grounds not suitable for wildlife. But there's a landlord — someone paying the bills, keeping the lights on, and opening their door to students on the cheap."

MJ crosses her arms over her chest. "Paying the bills means money, but this house can't be their source of income. The fact that six students can afford it is proof of that."

"Really begs the question, doesn't it?" He looks up, eyes finding the tower once more. "If it's not a home for people or animals, then who lives here?"

"I bet he lives in the tower," she says, following his gaze. "Or maybe he's got someone trapped up there Rapunzel-style." She turns to him. "Time to check inside?"

"Yes, I think it is," the Doctor says.

The Doctor suggests they enter through the basement, but MJ wants to check something. She tries the front door and yep — they left it unlocked. Gods, it's like these people want to be axe-murdered.

"I feel like there's something with the walls," the Doctor murmurs, brushing his fingers over the wood paneling. They're in the formal dining room, figuring it was a pretty safe hiding place.

"So buzz them with the sonic," MJ says.

He grimaces. "Er, I can't."

"Why not?"

The Doctor's cheeks turn red and he avoids making eye contact. "It doesn't do wood."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "What do you mean it doesn't do wood?"

"The sonic," he says, still not meeting her gaze. "It doesn't do wood. Did I not already tell you this?"

"Time lord technology and it doesn't do wood," MJ says in disbelief. She shakes her head. "Of course, it doesn't do wood. You know, might've been a good thing to mention before we started searching the house that's 90% wood."

"My sincere apologies, Tilly."

The use of her nickname — the nickname she left behind in California over a decade ago — makes her face warm. "Do you have a stethoscope at least?"

His face lights up and he quickly searches his pockets. He looks at her sheepishly. "Er, I think I left it in my other coat."

"Unbelievable," she grumbles.

They run all over the house, never staying in one room too long to ensure they don't get caught. Sneaking around the house without being seen is surprisingly easy, even with the creaky flooring and creaky doors. There's very little in this house that doesn't creak, they discover.

Even if the house weren't creepy as fuck, it'd still be a shit place to live. There's no washing machine or central heating. The power sockets are severely outdated. The stove is from the '30s. It seems as though the landlord has only done the bare minimum in terms of maintenance, and it's impossible to escape the feeling of being watched.

As they search a storage closet on the ground floor, the Doctor clears his throat pointedly.

"Remind me when we're done here," the Doctor says. "I've got a new phone for you in my office."

"Your office?"

"Ah, yes, I haven't told you." The Doctor clasps his hands behind his back, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. "I've been living on Earth for reasons I can't disclose quite yet, sorry about that, but while I'm here, I've become a physics professor at St. Luke's University. It's where I met Bill. She was working as a canteen assistant and started attending my lectures in her free time. I offered to tutor her."

MJ beams at him. "That's amazing, Doc! How long have you been on Earth for?"

"About fifty years."

She chokes on air. "Fifty years?" she splutters. "How have you not lost your mind? Last I saw you, two days on Earth was your max."

"Yes, well, I'm older and wiser," the Doctor says, puffing out his chest. "And perhaps a certain someone has opened my eyes to the appeal of domesticity."

"Oh, yeah?" She raises her eyebrows with a smirk. "And who would that be?"

He waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, no one you know."

"If you say so," she sing-songs.

They share playful smiles and it occurs to MJ that while everything has changed, nothing's changed at all.

"Ah, look at this!" the Doctor praises. "An oil-burning heater! We should grab that, Bill might need it."

MJ picks up the heater and they continue on their search.

*

In the kitchen, they find a cupboard that's actually an elevator. The Doctor buzzes it with the sonic. He and MJ have to keep shuffling around so he can check everything.

"We're making way too much noise," MJ hisses. "They're totally going to find us!"

"It'll be fine," he whispers. "Humans are stupid. They'll probably just assume it's the central heating."

She swats his arm and he lets out a very quiet, "Ow!"

They hear footsteps getting closer and she gives him a pointed look. He ignores her and continues buzzing the walls.

"Maybe it's just the central heating," Shireen says, voice muffled by the door.

Now the Doctor gives MJ a pointed look. She rolls her eyes. A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing Bill and all of her housemates. No, not all of them. There are supposed to be six, but there are only five. The sixth, Pavel, must still be in his room, then, his classical music still floating down the halls. That's...concerning, to say the least. Has he left his room at all today?

Bill and the other four all let out sighs of relief at the sight of the Doctor and MJ.

"There isn't any," the Doctor says, just as startled as them.

The girl with the gorgeous black hair, Felicity, says, "I thought..."

"They'd gone home," Bill finishes for her. She looks less than pleased with them. "Me, too. Isn't any what?"

"Central heating," the Doctor tells her. He takes the oil-burning heater from MJ. "We've been looking around, inside and out. Very interesting, lots of wood."

He brushes past Bill to leave the elevator, MJ just a step behind.

"Er, why are you still here?" Bill asks.

He answers her question with a question. He lifts the heater into her line of sight. "Do you know what that is? That's an oil-burning heater. You might need it."

A very disgruntled Bill takes it from him and passes it to Blue Shirt Boy, whose name is Harry — they learned a lot during their snooping.

"There's no washing machine either," MJ chimes in with a grimace.

"And the hob is from the '30s," the Doctor says. "The power sockets will not take your devices."

"Oh, I thought it was just my room," Shireen says, frowning at the outlet.

"No, no, no," he says. "They are out of date." He freezes. "What's that smell?"

MJ tilts her head. "What smell? The Chinese food?"

The Doctor perks up. "Chinese food? I love Chinese!"

He grabs MJ's hand and tries to pull her into the living room, but Bill stops him with a sharp, "Doctor!" Lowering her voice, she says, "There might be a few old things, but it just needs updating. It's not like there's some massive mystery going on."

The Doctor and MJ exchange looks.

"Did you hear the trees creaking outside when we arrived?" he asks Bill.

"Yeah, it was the wind," Bill says.

"There wasn't any wind," the Doctor says. He addresses the room, expression grave. "You should find another house."

"I don't think so," Shireen says.

"The rooms are really big," Harry says.

Paul nods. "Exactly, and it's still the best place for the money. I'll just call the landlord and sort it out."

"What's his name?" MJ asks, halting Paul and the others in their tracks.

Felicity furrows her brow, lips slightly pursed. "Whose name?"

"Your landlord," MJ says. "What's his name?"

They all just stare at her.

"Does he live on or off the property?" she asks next.

Nothing.

"Did he give you a list of rules?" she presses. "Tell you can't throw parties or have pets? Did he tell you when the trash or the recycling goes out? How many sets of keys did he give you guys? One each?"

More blank stares and open mouths.

"I'm sure he just hasn't gotten around to it yet," Bill jumps in.

MJ rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

Shireen clears her throat. "Er, you can't call anyway, Paul. No reception."

Paul sighs and heads into the living room. "Okay, so I'll go down the hill...oh."

They all trail after him, and that's when MJ sees the landlord for the first time. He's an older white man with sallow skin. His combed-back hair is silver, but his eyebrows are a bold black. He's dressed strangely sharp — his brown three-piece suit is paired with a matching tie and a cream shirt. But it's his eyes that make MJ take a protective step in front of Bill and the Doctor. There's no warmth to be found in the dark brown of his irises, only a blood-chilling emptiness.

Yeah, that's one creepy motherfucker.

"Didn't hear you come in," Felicity says.

"For a man such as myself, discretion is second nature," the landlord replies. "So, a gathering. You're all here. No, except one..."

"Pavel's upstairs," Shireen says, pointing to the ceiling.

"And two in addition," the landlord notes, eyeing the Doctor and MJ.

"He's the Doctor," Harry says with a bright smile. "And, uh, MJ."

The Doctor grabs a crispy rice noodle from the haul of Chinese food the housemates had ordered. Everyone spreads throughout the room. Bill takes a spot on the couch and MJ sits on the arm.

The landlord raises his eyebrows. "Doctor?"

"Oh, he's..." Bill smiles awkwardly. "He's my grandfather. And MJ's my girlfriend."

"What, assisting with the relocation?"

"That's right, yeah," the Doctor says.

"It's a heartbreaking experience," the landlord says, feeling up the wall, "to leave one's charge behind all alone in the big wide world."

The Doctor nods. "Indeed, yes. You got children?"

"I...Yes." The landlord trails his fingers down the wall. "A daughter. But I'm most fortunate she's still under my protection. So long as that's the case, I'm most content."

Gods, is he actively trying to be creepy or does it come by him naturally?

"So, now, I was calling to see if everything's satisfactory," he says.

"Actually, there are a few things," Felicity speaks up.

"Yes, I see," the landlord says. "Go on."

And then almost all of the housemates are speaking at once, rattling off all of the house's flaws. MJ almost feels like she's back at camp, sitting in the dining pavilion and listening to the endless chatter.

"Do you have a cat?" Bill questions.

The Doctor bites down on the crispy rice noodle with a very loud crunch, drawing looks from everyone. He freezes, then tries to chew more quietly. MJ bites back a laugh — new Doctor, but still a dork.

"A cat?" the landlord echoes.

"Er, um, yeah," Bill stammers. "Harry said that he heard some noise upstairs, like walking around."

The landlord shakes his head. "No cats. No pets. You understand that I won't be able to do any of this tonight, but as soon as possible, yes." He raps his knuckles on the wall. "Knock on wood, do what I can."

"That's another thing," Shireen says, gesturing vaguely. "This house is really creaky. Everything you touch, it's like..."

She mimics a creaking noise and MJ immediately thinks of Jack. Gods, she hopes she'll see him again someday. And Rose, and Leather Jacket Doctor.

"It's unavoidable, my dear," the landlord says with an attempt at a warm smile, standing closer to Shireen than MJ likes.

"How do you get into the tower?" Harry asks.

"You don't," the landlord snaps. "The tower is specifically excluded from the terms of our agreement."

MJ leans down and whispers in Bill's ear, "$20 says he's keeping someone up there."

"I don't make bets I know I'll lose," Bill whispers back.

"Oh, right," Harry says, taken aback but still smiling. "Well, thank you. No tower. Got it."

"Right," the landlord says. That fake smile is back. He starts to leave, then turns to look at MJ and the Doctor. "Oh, er, are you two staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," the Doctor says.

Bill scrambles to her feet. "Er, no, they're not."

The Doctor eyes the rest of his crispy noodle as if debating whether the taste is worth the noise. "Well, I'm not sure."

"There's no reason to," Bill says.

"I probably will," the Doctor says.

Bill laughs awkwardly. "There isn't a bed, so..."

The landlord chuckles and gods, he's so fucking creepy. "Alright."

"Sorry, excuse me. Sorry, sorry, sorry," the Doctor says, crossing the room to the landlord. "Who, um...Who's the prime minister?"

"I beg your pardon?" the landlord stammers.

"Margaret Thatcher, Harriet Jones?" the Doctor offers.

"Oh, come on," the landlord says, laughing 'goodnaturedly.'

"Wilson? Eden?" the Doctor presses.

The landlord takes the Doctor by the arm, pulling him aside, and MJ immediately gets to her feet, eyes narrowed.

"I think it's better to leave your granddaughter here with her friends," the landlord says quietly. "They seem respectable. And I'll keep an eye, of course."

He taps a tuning fork against the wall. "I'll attend to your requirements in the morning. In the meantime, sleep well."

The tuning fork vibrates, creating a pleasant high-pitched hum. The landlord grins as if this is something worth celebrating, then leaves.

"I take it back," Felicity says to the Doctor. "You're fine. He's weird."

He's worse than weird, MJ thinks. He reminds her of monsters when they're using the Mist to appear human — it's that air of 'I know something you don't.' His soft-spoken, accommodating, unassuming demeanor is nothing more than a guise. He's up to something, and the tuning fork is involved somehow. He kept feeling the walls. Why would he feel the walls? Why hasn't he given them his name?

Shireen lets out a little gasp. "The washing machine!"

She goes after the landlord. While she's gone, thunder crashes. She returns almost immediately.

"He's not there," Shireen reports.

Overhead, they hear rustling.

"That's it," Harry says. "That's the noise I heard."

"Fascinating," the Doctor breathes out, staring at the ceiling. He seems to follow it to the wall. He slams his hand against the wall and immediately, the rustling stops.

"It's just pipes," Paul says, and now MJ's starting to think none of these people have ever seen a horror movie. "I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, I might go up as well," Bill says.

The Doctor whirls around and looks at a very unsettled Felicity. He still has his hand on the wall. He leans in, staring directly into Felicity's eyes, his brow furrowed and his mouth agape.

"Me too," Shireen chimes in. "Locking my door though."

"Er, Grandfather?" Bill waves her hand to snap him out of whatever trance he'd slipped into. "Hello? Yeah. Perhaps you'd leave now?"

"No, I'm fine," the Doctor says. "MJ, what about you? Do you want to leave?"

"Yes," MJ deadpans. "I think we should all get the fuck out of this spooky ass house before something horrible happens."

Felicity gasps. "You think something horrible is going to happen?"

"Of course, I do," she scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I mean, come on, you guys. A bunch of conventionally attractive young adults move into a creaky old house with a weird landlord who still hasn't told you his name and bans you from entering the spooky tower? I'm pretty sure Wes Craven's directed this exact movie."

Bill shakes her head. "MJ, you're overthinking things."

"No, I'm fucking not!" MJ snaps so harshly that Bill recoils. "I am telling you, Bill. There's something seriously wrong with that man and this house and we should all get out now."

Harry shifts his weight nervously. "Maybe, um...maybe we should listen to her."

"Yes, you should listen to me," MJ agrees, "because I'm always right. Seriously, Doctor, name one time I've been wrong."

He opens his mouth, then closes it. "Well, it's had to have happened at some point. But yes, statistically speaking, listening to MJ is the right move."

"We're not going anywhere," Bill says. "MJ, I love you, seriously, but you've been watching too many horror movies."

MJ throws her hands up in frustration. "Gods, I feel like fucking Cassandra!"

And she does not mean the bitchy flap of skin.

"Are you two tired?" the Doctor asks Felicity and Harry. When they don't answer right away, he says, "Good. No, I'm gonna hang about with Simon."

"Harry," Bill corrects.

"And Florence."

"Felicity," MJ says, flopping down onto the couch and glowering at the ceiling.

"Yeah, why?" Bill questions.

"Well, we're gonna chill," he says. He looks at Felicity. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Felicity agrees, lighting up and clapping excitedly. "Okay, yes!"

"Put some tunes on, yes?"

"Yes!" Felicity cheers.

"Alright," Harry says with a little laugh.

The Doctor grins. "I'm good at making friends." He turns to Bill and holds out his hand. "Give me your phone."

"But why? There's no reception," Bill reminds him.

"Phone," he says, wiggling his fingers.

"Why can't you just use MJ's?" Bill grumbles, handing her phone over.

"I need a new phone," MJ speaks up. "Put on something good, please."

The Doctor seems to put on the first song he sees. It's nothing MJ knows, but Felicity obviously does. She gasps in delight and starts dancing.

"I love this," the Doctor says.

"Do you know who this is?" Felicity asks him.

"Do I know who this is?" the Doctor repeats back to her with a too-big smile that makes it quite obvious he does not, in fact, know who this is. "Yes, I know who this is."

He quickly turns away and checks the phone to see who it is.

"Yeah, it's Spotify, so it's probably random," Bill says, forcing a laugh.

"You like Little Mix?" Paul asks.

"Oh, clearly she does," the Doctor says, showing Paul her phone. "Look, there's a whole playlist here."

Grinning, Shireen snatches the phone from the Doctor's hand. "What else have you got on this?"

"Can I have a word please?" Bill requests. "Both of you."

MJ gets up and follows Bill and the Doctor out of the room, passing by Shireen and Paul who have their heads bent over Bill's phone.

"Honestly, you two, there's nothing going on," Bill insists. "Nothing weird. Nothing alien. Just an old house and a dodgy landlord, which is pretty standard for students. I'll see you later for more exciting TARDIS action, but basically, this is the bit of my life that you guys aren't in. Do you know what I mean?"

MJ doesn't, to be perfectly honest. The whole 'having a life outside of the TARDIS' is a bit of a novel concept for her. Yes, she'd been planning to temporarily leave for camp and all that, but it'd genuinely never occurred to MJ that she or Rose could live anywhere other than in the TARDIS. To MJ, traveling with the Doctor means living with him and seeing him every day. She'd never considered being a companion could be more of a part-time job or a hobby than a lifestyle. What does that say about her that she'd assumed traveling alongside the Doctor meant leaving everyone and everything else behind?

"I know what you mean," the Doctor says.

"Thanks," Bill says, visibly relieved.

"So, up the the wooden hill you go," he says and waves her along. "Sleep well."

Bill nods, walking away. "Okay."

"Maybe, before you do, you should check on your friend who hasn't been seen for a day and who has strange music coming out of his room," the Doctor advises, halting her in her tracks.

She whirls back around. "They say he just does that."

"Nobody just does anything," the Doctor counters, and MJ nods in agreement.

Bill's face falls. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"Not a chance in Hades," MJ says. "Look, Bill, I respect your boundaries and all that, but we are not leaving you here to die a painful death. I'm not overthinking things or being dramatic, okay? I genuinely believe you and your friends are in danger. How are we supposed to just walk away without knowing you're safe?"

"Your friend will probably be fine," the Doctor says gently. He raps his knuckles on the wall. "Knock on wood."

Shireen and Paul come out into the hallway, Shireen teasing, "We need to have a talk about your taste in music."

"You comin' up?" Paul asks.

"Yeah," Bill says.

She gives the Doctor and MJ one last displeased look before she follows the others up the stairs. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes, sending shivers down MJ's spine. In her experience, weather like this means Zeus is seriously pissed, and that's never good for anyone. To make matters worse, there's that rustling sound again.

"What is that?" MJ wonders, scowling at the walls.

The Doctor is staring at the front door. "MJ."

"What?"

She walks up to the front door. Except she doesn't because the door is gone. Like, merged-with-the-wall gone. The only evidence of its existence is the knob and the deadbolt. MJ swallows hard. She can't help but feel like she's back in Halcyon Green's mansion, trapped in his room with the leucrotae lurking outside, calm with the arrogance of a predator who knows they're going to get their prey.

"That doesn't bode well," the Doctor murmurs, feeling the wall that used to be the door.

Harry and Felicity wander out into the hallway, Felicity still dancing.

"Do you like this music, Doctor?" Felicity asks.

"Reminds me of Quincy Jones," he says. Turning to face her and Harry, he adds, "I stepped in for him once. The bassist he'd hired turned out to be a Klarj neon death voc bot. What was worse, he couldn't play." He hitches his thumb at the not-door. "This is very interesting."

Harry looks at the Doctor as if he's grown another head. "The door?"

"'Cause it isn't," the Doctor explains.

"Isn't..."

"A door," the Doctor says. "Any more."

He and MJ step out of the way for Harry. He grabs the knob and pulls. Nothing but the rattling of the knob.

"Come on," Felicity says, waving Harry away. "Shireen did it a minute ago."

She tries the doorknob next. When it doesn't open, she looks at the Doctor and MJ with a creased brow. "So, it's locked?"

"Not locked," MJ says. "It's gone. Look."

Harry and Felicity look, really look, and MJ watches the fear creep in. Harry feels the space that used to be a door with parted lips and wide eyes.

"It's completely sealed," the Doctor says.

Felicity shakes her head. "I don't understand."

Behind them, something rattles and bangs. MJ's heart sinks into her stomach. She has a feeling she already knows what it is, but she runs into the living room to check anyway. Sure enough, the shutters have closed themselves. This is really not good.

"The shutters!" Felicity exclaims.

"What about them?" Harry asks.

"Closed by themselves," the Doctor says. "Sealed."

MJ feels the wall. Depending on how solid the wood is, she might be able to cut through it with her sword.

"So, we're trapped," Felicity says nervously.

"Yes and no," MJ says. "An important thing to keep in mind from here on out — whatever's doing this is trapping us in with them, yeah. But they're also trapping themselves in with us."

The Doctor nods. "And historically, that's never worked out well for the trapper."

More rustling.

"What's that?" Felicity questions. Rustling gives way to loud creaking, and dust falls from the ceiling. "No, no, no. There's something in here." She hunches over, holding her head in her hands. "I can't be trapped! I can't!"

She takes off to the kitchen.

"Wait!" the Doctor and MJ call out, running after her.

The back door slams shut before Felicity can escape through it, but she manages to grab the shutters on the kitchen window before they can close completely.

"Don't go out there!" the Doctor shouts as Felicity gets the window open.

"I can't be trapped!" Felicity wails.

MJ sprints to grab her, but Felicity falls out the window and the shutters seal shut a second too soon. MJ feels along the shutters for any sort of opening or divot where she can dig her nails in.

"Great," Harry complains. "Now we're stuck here. Why'd you try and stop her?"

"Listen!" the Doctor implores.

There's more creaking. Gods, will the creaking ever end? Seconds later, Felicity screams. The Doctor and Harry join MJ in her frantic search, but it's a fruitless endeavor. There's no way to pry the boards open.

"What's happened to her?" Harry demands. "What's going on? Do you think it's like she said? A thing?"

"Maybe," the Doctor says.

"And so, is it out there now or in here?"

"Both," MJ and the Doctor chorus.

Harry grabs MJ's arm, his eyes bugging out of his head. "I'm scared."

"That's alright," she assures him with a gentle smile. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid as long as you don't let it stop you from doing what needs to be done."

The Doctor raps his knuckles on the wood. More creaking. "Who's there?" he asks.

"If you start telling knock-knock jokes, I'll hit you," MJ warns him.

"What if something has got into the wood?" the Doctor proposes. "Into the laths, behind the plaster, into the very fabric of the house."

"Like woodlice," MJ says. "About four years ago, we had an infestation at camp. The dryads were not pleased."

Harry's eyes dart between them. "What are you two talking about? We need to get out, call the police."

MJ can't help but roll her eyes. "And what exactly do you think the cops are going to do about a vanishing door and self-closing shutters?"

The Doctor ignores them both. He presses on a wooden cabinet. "Who's there?"

Shock of the century, everyone: more fucking creaking.

"Doctor, you're provoking it," Harry chastises. The creaking gets worse and he glances around anxiously. "It's getting louder."

"Wake up!" the Doctor demands. "Wake up! Out you come!"

The wood seems to liquefy and split open. A giant woodlouse with light-tipped antennae comes crawling out, the wood closing behind it. It's nasty. MJ shudders watching it crawl around on the cabinet door.

"I was expecting something quite different," the Doctor admits. "You know, like a gaseous creature or microscopic...Did you see it move through the wood? Interacting at a cellular level. This must be alien." He follows the woodlouse along the counter. "Gotta be alien. What are you doing here? On your holidays? MJ, give me a matchbox."

MJ rummages through her pockets for something big enough to contain the bug.

"A matchbox?" Harry echoes incredulously.

"Alright, a shoe box," the Doctor relents. The bug scutters to the floor and he chases after it. "Don't let it get away!"

"What do you mean 'alien?'"

MJ spares Harry a quick smile. "You ever see E.T.?"

"Oh, little one," the Doctor coos.

MJ hears something behind her and whirls around. Her jaw drops. At least a hundred of those alien woodlice are spilling out of the sealed back door, skittering all over the walls and the cabinets. MJ wishes Grover were here. He probably has some song on his panflute that could convince the alien bugs to leave them alone.

"Ah," the Doctor says upon sighting the swarm. "Now, this starts to make sense. We need to get out."

"Elevator," MJ orders.

"Elevator?" Harry questions, following MJ and the Doctor to the 'cupboard.' "There's an elevator?"

They pile inside. It's a tight fit, the three of them. She pulls the grate shut and the Doctor pulls the lever.

"Can you grab your torch?" the Doctor asks. "Er, flashlight?"

"Probably not without groping one of you," MJ says bluntly.

Harry clears his throat. "I mean...I wouldn't mind if, you, um—"

"I can get my sonic, I think," the Doctor cuts in. He pulls out his sonic screwdriver, but not without accidentally touching MJ's ass. "Sorry."

"Forgiven," she says.

The Doctor holds up his screwdriver, the top lighting up in an impression of a flashlight. When the elevator rattles to a stop, MJ pries open the gate. She steps out in the hallway, grabs her flashlight from her back pocket, and helps illuminate the basement.

"What are they?" Harry asks. "Look like insects, but you're saying they can shut doors, trap us."

"They're not just in the wood," the Doctor says. "They're becoming the wood itself. Total infestation."

"You're talking like you've seen things like this before," Harry notes.

"No, actually."

"You said they were alien," Harry presses.

"Well, they could be native to this planet, but I've never seen them before," the Doctor says. "Have you?"

They continue on their way — the Doctor leads the charge with Harry in the middle and MJ as the caboose. Her flashlight beam snags on an old oil painting of a woman in an ornate chair. It's in excellent condition. She raises an eyebrow but doesn't stop to examine it further. She has the distinct feeling that it's best for them to keep moving.

At the end of the hallway is a room with, thankfully, an overhead light. It comes on with the flick of a switch, revealing a long wooden table laden with boxes. Six boxes, to be exact, full of miscellaneous belongings. MJ's heart sinks. Oh.

"Maybe it belonged to a family that used to live here?" Harry suggests.

"Harry, there's six boxes," the Doctor points out. He returns a book he'd been examining to its respective box.

MJ hovers behind the Doctor, arms folded over her chest. It feels wrong to look through dead people's things — especially strangers. She's never seen it for herself, but she can't help but think of the River Styx, polluted with lost hopes and unfulfilled dreams. All of these poor people must've thought that their lives were just beginning. They thought they had so much time. How many things did they leave unsaid? What wishes didn't come true? Did anyone look for them?

Harry pulls out an old bundle of papers from the box he'd been rifling through. "Tenancy agreement. Same as ours." He unfolds the papers and flips to the last one. "Six signatures: Jake Christie, Annie Wren, Jonathan Frost—"

"What's the date?" the Doctor interrupts, uncovering a stack of Polaroids. MJ goes up on her tiptoes and rests her chin on his shoulder to get a good look.

"Er, 1997. Sarah Tiller, Mark Hopethorne, Carl Richards."

"They move in, relax..." The Doctor examines a Polaroid and sets it aside, going through the stack one by one, talking all the while. "Go to their rooms. Then panic. Infestation."

He shows Harry the last picture, an image of over a dozen woodlice crawling all over one of the kitchen counters. Harry gapes at the picture before his attention is stolen by something in the back.

"Guys," he says, walking over to another table with twelve more boxes. It doesn't take him long to find another tenancy agreement, this one from— "1977."

The Doctor finds a tenancy agreement too. "1957. Every twenty years."

Fury crashes over her like a tidal wave. Her hands fall to her sides, balled into fists. What is the point of all of this? There has to be a point, right? So what's worth killing six people every two decades? How does Mr. Landlord justify the blood on his hands?

Creaking sounds from their left. It sounds like a door opening or someone stepping on a floorboard. Harry gasps.

"There's something coming," he says quietly.

"Good," the Doctor says.

He's furious too. This face conveys anger well — the bushiness of the eyebrows and the wrinkles, and the way the shape of his nose and the set of his eyes kind of make him look like a bird of prey. But even if his face was blank, the flames burning in his eyes are unmistakable. It's the same anger she first saw directed at Cassandra. No, it's not quite the same — all these years later, it burns hotter than she's ever seen and seems to burrow deeper.

The Doctor holds out his hand. MJ takes it, and then they walk back out into the hallway where the landlord awaits them.

"Christie," the Doctor says. "Wren, Frost, Tiller, Hopethorne, Richards..."

The landlord gives a solemn shake of his head. "Fine young men and women."

"As were all the others," the Doctor says. He fakes a smile. "Where are they?"

"In the house," the landlord answers, eerily calm.

MJ's stomach lurches. In the house as in...? Gods, she hates him. She hates this man and she wants to see him burn.

Harry doesn't get it. "What? Where? We haven't seen 'em."

"He means, they're in the house," the Doctor says. He whirls around, fake smile gone. "The wood, Harry."

"Don't think I haven't considered the consequences, Doctor," the landlord says.

"So what's the point?" MJ questions heatedly. "Why are you doing this?"

The landlord hesitates. "My daughter was dying."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asks.

The landlord ignores him, staring at the painting MJ had noted earlier. "Nothing could be done. Until these creatures saved her. We'd do anything to protect them."

"Your daughter, she's here," the Doctor realizes. He's tugged MJ along so they're both standing behind the landlord now. "She's in the house, isn't she?"

"Indeed," the landlord says, turning to face them. "And she must survive."

"Well, we have to get out!" Harry exclaims.

He turns around and runs, the Doctor and MJ chasing after him and begging him to stop. MJ tries to grab him but he just slips through her fingers. Harry pushes past them and tries to escape up the stairs. He doesn't get even halfway up before a stair swallows his foot, halting him in his tracks.

"Doctor!" Harry shouts, trying to pull his foot free.

MJ grabs the landlord by the lapels and slams him into the side of the staircase. "Let him go!"

The landlord smiles, then taps his tuning fork against the nearest stair he can reach. Woodlice gush out of the step around Harry's foot, climbing his body. He screams as the lice consume him and then he's just...gone. Dead, just like that.

"God rest his soul," the landlord says.

"Bill!" the Doctor exclaims, distracting MJ before she can break the landlord's nose. "Is Bill alright?"

"I'd be more concerned for yourself, Doctor," the landlord tells him. He doesn't even struggle to break free from MJ's grip. "Your advanced age means you have less energy, less matter. But they will take what they can get." He looks at MJ. "And as for you...you will be quite the feast, I imagine."

MJ wrinkles her nose in disgust. More lice come pouring out of the stairs. The Doctor grabs her by the elbow and yanks her back.

"The insects are keeping your daughter alive," the Doctor says, scrambling for a way out of this. "How does that work? Come on, call these off. Maybe I could help." He glances at MJ and adds, "Maybe we could help! I'm a doctor and she's my assistant."

The landlord hesitates but calls the lice off. He beckons for them to follow and he leads them to an office, complete with overflowing bookshelves and a cluttered desk. He walks around to the other side of the desk, putting some distance between him and them, and looks at the Doctor. "Can you help her?"

"Tell me what happened," the Doctor prompts.

"It was just before the war," the landlord reveals. "Eliza was dying. Nothing could be done. Until these creatures saved her. At first, it was a miracle."

The Doctor nods in understanding. "And then they needed food."

"Twenty years later, the creatures grew dormant," the landlord explains, choked up. It's the first true emotion MJ's seen from him. "Eliza was fading. Then a vagrant broke into the house, fell asleep, and the lice...absorbed him! I was horrified! But Eliza grew strong, and I realized what I had to do. It is regrettable, but nobody really misses the students. They're simply assumed to have run away."

MJ's blood boils. And to think she was this close to feeling bad for this guy. He says nobody misses the students, but how could he possibly know? All those people, they had friends and family, teachers and peers, maybe even coworkers. No, what he really means is that the police don't come looking for them, and the systemic incompetence of law enforcement was enough to make this man think these students were expendable. As if they were nothing. As if they didn't have hopes and dreams and fears. As if they didn't deserve to live just as much as his daughter does.

"And you think your daughter is more important than all of them," the Doctor says.

MJ smirks inwardly. Different Doctor but they're still on the same wavelength, it seems.

The landlord is close to tears. "Yes, of course! At this moment, you're concerned about your granddaughter, and you would do whatever it took to save the person you love from death, wouldn't you?"

The Doctor doesn't even have to think about it. "Yes, I would."

"Then you understand why I must take this course of action!"

"Oh, I do," the Doctor says, taking a step forward. "I would tear the sky apart. I would reduce the solar system to the tiniest cinder for anyone I love. But if I was about to do that, if I got to that point of desperation, then I would have one hope, one desire."

"Yes?"

"That someone would stop me."

The Doctor looks at MJ and when their eyes lock, she's in her room again, staring down his younger self.

"You'd really doom the world to save a friend? To save me?"

"What's the point of the world without MJ?"

"You sentimental bastard. You know what, Doc? It's fine. Really, it's fine. Because if you ever have to make that choice again and I don't see another way out...I'll just make it for you."

"Don't you dare. Don't you even consider that!"

"I'm not worth it. The Earth in flames, civilization in ruins, billions dead...I'm not worth it."

"You are to me. You're everything, MJ. Everything."

MJ smiles sadly. Takes his hand in hers and kisses his knuckles. His expression softens. A million unspoken words pass between them and she knows he's thinking about the same conversation. To go from that to this now, it reeks of a lesson hard-taught. She doesn't want to know what he's been through to make him rethink his priorities, what horrible event had to have transpired to prompt such a change.

She has a bad feeling she'll find out anyway.

The landlord glances between them. "You said you could help Eliza."

The Doctor breaks the heated eye contact to look at tonight's antagonist because that's really all he is — the monster of the week. "Yes, well, I need to see her. Can you take us to her?"

The landlord frowns but nods. "Follow me."

*

When the landlord takes them into the tower through a secret entrance hidden behind a bookcase, MJ has to bite back a squeal. It's just so classic, right? So Scooby-Doo, so Nancy Drew, so Sherlock Holmes...the list goes on and on. And it means that she was right — Mr. Sinister Landlord is, in fact, keeping someone in the tower.

Despite everything, she fucking loves being right.

The door to Eliza's room is open. The landlord pauses in the doorway, then steps inside, cautioning, "Eliza, do not fear this man. He says he might be able to make you well."

MJ only barely processes his words, too busy trying not to gawk at Eliza. She's...wood. Like, walking, talking wood. Even her hair is made of wood. She looks more like the living embodiment of a tree than all of the wood nymphs MJ knows — not that she would ever tell them that.

MJ's so distracted by Eliza's appearance that it takes her at least six seconds to realize that Bill is in the room too.

"Bill, how are you?" the Doctor asks casually.

"Yeah..." Bill sniffles. "Yeah, I'm okay. Er, Shireen..."

"The lice," MJ guesses.

"Yeah."

She looks so distraught that MJ can't stand still — she breaks away from the Doctor's side to put her arm around Bill. Bill leans into her and MJ, as always, helps bear the weight.

"Harry, too," the Doctor says. "Um, in brief, he's her dad. He's been keeping her alive with the bugs for about seventy years. Your friends are the food. I said that I could help."

He turns to Eliza. "Now, you must be Eliza. How are you feeling? Rotten?"

"I am quite well," Eliza says. She's soft-spoken and demure. Has she always been like this, or is it a side-effect of seventy years of isolation?

"Administer your treatment, Doctor," the landlord orders.

"Well, what's the medical history here? What happened?" the Doctor asks, very obviously stalling for time. "Eliza, you were very ill. Yes?"

She nods. "Yes."

"The doctors had, um, given up on you," he continues, moving about the room grandly — as he does. "But then, one day, your father brings you a present." He looks at the landlord. "Where did you find them? What, on the roof? In the garden?" The landlord nods hastily, and the Doctor barrels on. "You find the insects, you bring them in the house, er, because you want to show them to her. Presumably just to...just to amuse her. I mean, you couldn't have known what they were."

"Can you help her or not?" the landlord demands.

"I am helping," the Doctor assures him. "This is me helping. How did you find out their unique abilities? Did you bring them in here? You brought them in here, right, but what activated them? You use a tuning fork now, but..."

"Pavel had that record on of a violin," Bill volunteers.

The Doctor points at Bill. "High-pitched sounds, yes." He grabs the music box off the bedside table and lifts the lid. A vaguely familiar tune plays and the woodlice emerge from the floorboards in response, moving in a spiral that expands with every passing second, getting closer and closer to Bill and MJ. "Soothes her to sleep. High-pitched sound. You leave your daughter alone for the night, or so you believe."

Something about the story makes MJ's brain itch. It's just...not right. Something about it isn't right. But she's too busy helping Bill up onto the wooden chest to really think about it. MJ hops up, eyeing the encroaching woodlice worriedly.

"The music wakes them. They set to work. And in the morning, you find her revitalized. Just...slightly wooden. You realize there's a way she can survive."

"Enough!" the landlord snaps.

"Wait, Doctor, that doesn't make sense," Bill says.

The Doctor shoots her a look and snaps the music box shut. The lice melt away into the floor.

"Can you not interrupt?" the Doctor complains, hurrying over to Bill and MJ. "I'm doing my thing here."

"No, Bill's right," MJ speaks up. With the bugs gone, she hopes back down from the chest and helps Bill down too.

Bill, emboldened by MJ's support, adds, "Why would he pick up insects in the garden and bring them in to see his ill daughter?"

"Everyone loves insects," the Doctor says.

"I don't," Bill counters.

"Yeah, neither do I," MJ says.

The Doctor looks absolutely baffled. "But they're fascinating."

"Okay, secondly, he's not wood," Bill points out. "He's just like us."

"He's..." The Doctor turns to look at the landlord, then back at Bill. "Yes."

"So, if he's her father," Bill reasons, smiling now, "and she was preserved seventy years ago..."

The Doctor waves his sonic screwdriver over the landlord. He smiles crookedly. "You...No flies on you, Bill." To the landlord, his smile vanishing, "And no bugs in you."

"I do not understand," Eliza says, looking at her 'father.'

"I forget, you see," the Doctor says. "Your human lifespan, it's...it's not long, is it?"

"Do not let them trouble you," the landlord pleads to Eliza.

"What do you remember of the past, Eliza?" implores the Doctor.

She hesitates. "My...father..." Even though she's made entirely of wood (and woodlice), Eliza still sounds quite emotional. "He knows what's best."

"Yes. The lice preserve the appearance and the voice," the Doctor says, "but not so much the memories. He's not your father, am I right?"

"No!" the landlord — Eliza's son — snaps. "Stop talking!"

Eliza's voice trembles. "Father? What's the matter? I don't understand."

"Your father would have had better things to do than playing with insects in the garden," the Doctor explains over Eliza's quiet sobs. "But he isn't your father. When you were ill, he was sent out of the house by the doctors who were failing to save his mother."

"His...mother?"

The landlord looks at Eliza with tear-filled eyes.

"Eliza, he's your son," the Doctor says. "Your loving son."

MJ feels like she's in London during the Blitz again, trying to get through to the remnants of Jamie's memories.

Eliza gasps. "My son?"

"Forgive me," the landlord begs. "Forgive me."

The Doctor's not done. "When you saw what the creatures had done, you understood, didn't you? The lice could keep your mother alive if you protected them, tamed them, fed them."

"If you could save the one who brought you into this world, wouldn't you?" the landlord asks desperately.

He's not asking her, but MJ answers anyway, arms crossed over her chest and chin raised. "At the cost of others' lives? No, and my mama wouldn't want me to. A life lived at the expense of others is no life at all."

"I did what you told me because I thought you knew best," Eliza says brokenly. "But I...I am your mother. And you...all these children you've taken..." She sobs. "You told me it was necessary, that we had no choice."

"That's right, it was," the landlord insists. "It meant we could stay together. Don't you understand? We were happy. I kept our lives a secret, and a secret we must remain." Slowly, he turns to the Doctor, sniffling and wiping away his tears. "You have brought her nothing but misery. And confusion!"

His vitriol sends the Doctor stumbling backward, closer to Bill and MJ.

"You will be taken," the landlord declares. "Like the others!"

MJ rolls her eyes. "Oh, fuck this shit."

She crosses the room to the landlord in no more than a second. When he pulls out his tuning fork, she rips it from his hand. "Enough of that, yeah?"

MJ tosses the tuning fork to the Doctor, who catches it with ease. Knowing it's only a matter of time before the landlord finds another way to control the lice, the Doctor starts rambling. "Eliza, people have died and will continue to die unless you stop all this right now."

"How can I stop it?" Eliza questions desperately.

"You're the parent," the Doctor reminds her. "You're in charge!"

Eliza draws the lice from the floorboards.

"Do what I say!" the landlord wails at the lice. "I control you!"

"No," Eliza says. The lice move at her silent commands. "It's me. I control them."

"Eliza, finish them now," her son tells her. "Take them or you'll die! They'll destroy you!"

"What's the point of surviving if you never see anyone, if you hide yourself away from the world?" the Doctor asks. "When did you last open the shutters?"

Eliza looks between the Doctor and her son, clearly conflicted. But she comes to a decision eventually — she whirls around to face a window and the shutters fly open on their own. Outside, fireworks burst into life against the pitch-black sky. They're just normal fireworks, nothing as good as Cabin 9's Fourth of July fireworks display. Still, the sight of them brings a smile to MJ's face.

"It's the freshers' party in the park," Bill says. She's beaming at the sight as if it's the greatest thing she's ever seen.

"Exactly," the Doctor says. "New friends, fireworks. That's what life should be."

"I remember," Eliza cries. She turns to the landlord. "My son. Leave my side at last. Go and see the world."

The landlord shakes his head. "No. I don't want to. If you won't finish them, I will!"

Eliza grabs him by the arm before he can do anything. She pulls him close, taking his hands in hers. "My little boy. This has to end."

"No, we mustn't end," he says desperately. "We have to destroy them."

"It's our time," Eliza tells him.

He gapes at her as the bugs crawl up his body. "No, I...I don't want to."

Eliza embraces him for what is probably the first time in decades. He sobs into her shoulder, protesting even as the bugs climb higher and higher, consuming the mother and son. It's almost like something out of a Greek tragedy. With Eliza's memories restored at last, this is both a reunion and a farewell.

Before the bugs consume them entirely, Eliza looks at the Doctor with the warmest expression a wooden woman can manage. "Thank you."

With a final gasp, Eliza and her son disappear under the swarming woodlice. The bugs hold their shapes for a few tense seconds, then fall to the floor. That should be the end, but it's not. The house starts creaking worse than ever as if finally giving up on having any semblance of structural integrity.

"We've got to get out of here," the Doctor says.

He and Bill head for the door. MJ is about to follow when she knows and then she's squatting down, grabbing Shireen's hand as it emerges from the floorboards.

Bill gapes. "Is that—"

"Eliza's giving her life to bring them back," MJ explains, pulling Shireen to her feet.

Bill and the Doctor surge forward to help. When Shireen's whole once more, Bill pulls her into a hug.

"I thought you were gone," Bill says.

"Are you okay?" Shireen asks.

Bill pulls away. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She turns to the Doctor. "What about the others?"

"Come on!" the Doctor urges.

He grabs MJ's hand and the four of them sprint down the tower stairs and through the house, collecting Pavel and Paul along the way. Felicity is waiting for them outside. Her face lights up at the sight of them.

She starts to run toward them, but the Doctor waves her off. "Wrong way! Wrong way! Wrong way!"

Harry comes scurrying from around the back. They all stand by the fence and watch the house crumble to dust. MJ's never seen a house collapse. She's seen the aftermath— dilapidated houses can be good temporary shelters — but never the process. It's tragic, to see it all come down. It was such a beautiful house. Well, the interior definitely needed some remodeling, but still. It used to be a home and now it's just a mountain of debris.

"Down goes the deposit," Felicity mourns.

"Oh, man, that's our house," Shireen whines.

Harry shakes his head. "Gone."

The Doctor looks rather pleased with this outcome — though, considering Bill and her friends all made it out alive, MJ's pretty pleased too. He saunters in front of them. "Right, you lot. Back to the estate agent's."

MJ frowns at him. "We're just leaving them? What if they don't have someplace to stay tonight?"

Bill's expression softens. "We'll be fine, MJ. You go on."

"Alright," MJ says. "But before we go, what did we learn, guys?"

"Never trust a creepy old white man," Shireen says with a pout.

"Always look a gift horse in the mouth," Pavel suggests.

"When in doubt, do what MJ tells you to do," Bill volunteers, grinning cheekily.

MJ claps her hands together, beaming. "Well, then. It seems we all learned some valuable lessons here tonight. Nice meeting you guys!"

The Doctor grabs her hand once more and they run to the TARDIS, MJ giggling.

Behind them, Shireen asks, "She's not actually your girlfriend, is she?"

"Man, I wish," Bill sighs just before the TARDIS doors close.

"So," the Doctor says with a self-satisfied smile, "not bad for your first adventure with this face, eh?"

MJ leans against the railing, watching him whirl around the console. His giddy reminds her of how he was after their first adventure with Jack — the Doctor was so gleeful and proud of himself then, just as he is now. She smiles softly. "No, not bad at all. Where to now?"

"My office." He throws a lever. "To get you your new phone, and then maybe get dinner if you're hungry."

"Sounds good."

The trip to his office is short and steady. He's out the door first. She trails behind, eyes wide as she takes in the beautiful room. Sunlight streams in through the towering windows. The walls are a warm crimson. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are strewn throughout the room. He has a big cluttered desk and a comfy-looking chair. There's a chess set, at least two globes, and even a fireplace.

MJ plops down in the desk chair and smooths her hands over the chair's arms. "This is nice. Very nice."

Her eyes sweep over his desk. He has two framed pictures — one of someone she's pretty sure is his granddaughter Susan and one of MJ. The one of MJ is...gorgeous. In the photo, MJ is sitting on the rim of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park with her back to the lake. She has two additional beads on her camp necklace, though the designs are impossible to make out. She's looking to her right, laughing at something with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She just looks so happy.

"That was a very nice day," the Doctor says, following MJ's gaze. "I took a lot of pictures of you, but this one was my absolute favorite. Still is."

Okay, the fact that he has a photo of her on his desk definitely has romantic undertones, right? Especially since he's looking at said photo with that devastatingly soft look on his face.

"Is that Susan?" MJ asks, face warm. The Doctor nods and MJ smiles shyly. "I hope I get to meet her one day."

"I hope so too," he tells her. "Top drawer on the left."

Brow furrowed, MJ opens the top drawer. On top of a stack of notebooks is what must be her brand-new phone. She pulls it out, surprised by how lightweight it feels despite its size, and examines it closely. Bill had shown her her phone earlier — or was that yesterday? Yeah, yesterday — and so MJ has some idea how to operate the whole thing. The screen lights up at her touch — the background is a picture of Camp Half-Blood. She presses her thumb to the home button to unlock the phone. Beyond the standard apps, someone's downloaded Spotify, Instagram, the Dictionary app, IMDB, and Sudoku for her. It's leagues beyond the flip phone MJ's been using.

"And it's already upgraded, so you can call anyone from anywhere and anywhen," the Doctor says.

"This is so nice, Doc," MJ says. "I just...I feel bad. This looks expensive and I'm not even going to be able to use it that much."

He frowns, a crease forming between his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"Demigods can't use technology without sending up a signal to monsters, remember?"

The Doctor grins. There's a twinkle in his eyes now. "Look at the back."

MJ flips the phone over in her hands, the metal cool to the touch. The casing is a lovely shade of pink. Smack-dab on the back of the phone where Bill's had an apple is—

"Oh my gods," MJ gasps. She looks up at the Doctor, eyes shining. "That's a Delta. That's the symbol of my brother Daedalus."

"This phone was made by demigods for demigods," the Doctor explains. "It's monster-proof, waterproof, and almost completely indestructible, so you don't technically need a case, but I got you one anyway."

He pulls the case out of the drawer and pops the phone in for her. The case is see-through and glittery so it doesn't obstruct the pink of the phone.

"This is amazing," she gushes. She gets to her feet and tucks her phone into her back pocket in one fluid motion, then throws her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're very welcome," he says, though it takes him a second to hug her back.

MJ steps back and is about to ask where he wants to get dinner when something in her gut twists. She looks down at her hands to see she's flickering in and out of existence. Dematerializing, she realizes. She looks up at the Doctor to see him smiling at her sadly.

"Good luck," he says. "We'll have to get dinner another time."

MJ feels her stomach drop out beneath her like when you go on a rollercoaster. Warmth spreads through her veins, originating from somewhere in her chest. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the warmth claim her. It's terrifying, this new sensation, but she has faith she'll land safely.

It's just a matter of when.

*

i don't love this chapter, but they can't all be bangers, can they?

new game: place your bets on which doctor she'll end up w/ next