Doctor Who 1. In What We Tell You

_Notes: the characters aren't mine, and the story is! This fic is a sequel to last year's Halloween fic, "Smith &amp; McCrimmon Investigative Services, Ltd," and while I've done my best to keep it as independent as I can from that fic, there will be some references to it. Also, as with that fic, this will be written in Jamie's POV. Lastly, there will be Weeping Angels involved this time around, but I've worked it out so that the Doctor will have next-to-no contact with them, so as to preserve the timeline. As with the first fic, this one is Season 6B_.

* * *

Ever since I was a lad, I'd heard stories of ghosts—will o' the wisps that haunted the moors of the Highlands, and spectral beasties and creatures that paced between this world and the next. I'd been told to live in fear of witches and magick or to beware of lycanthropes and vampyres. One thing I was never warned against, thankfully, was to fear creatures from the stars—because I met one when I was twenty-two. And it is because of this creature from the stars that I can stand here, on the streets of New York, at the age of twenty-seven; by all rights, I shouldn't be able to. Had it not been for this alien's intervention, I'd have been one of the slain on Culloden Moor.

My name is Jamie McCrimmon, and I know my life has been both blessed and cursed. I was blessed with a family, which I lost—first my mother, when I was a lad, and then my father and brothers during the battle. Each of them fell to the Redcoats, one by one. I was fleeing with the McLarens—Alexander and Kirsty, the oldest friends I'd ever known, and their father, the Laird.

And then I met _him_—this creature from the stars, who called himself the Doctor. Despite my initial aggression towards him, he offered to help. And he did; he saved Kirsty and the Laird. Alexander wasn't as lucky, alas. But I was lucky—luckier than even Kirsty and the Laird, because the Doctor took me with him to the stars, and to different places in time and space.

We've been traveling together for a long time; his people don't like me too much, and they tried to separate us, sending me back to Culloden Moor, but the Doctor found me again after, and we've been together ever since. Usually, we live in his TARDIS, which is how the Doctor travels though time and space. Every once in a while, though, we stay in a particular point in space-time for whatever reason. At one point, we decided to open up a private detective agency in New York City, and so we found ourselves visiting the office we'd rented in various points in time.

Our clients were mainly people asking us to keep track of their lovers, but we did have one case where we had to go into a cursed, haunted house in Brooklyn to look for a missing boy. We found him, but not before I'd found out that all the warnings and tales about ghosts I had heard in Scotland were all too true. These ghosts were somehow trapped in the house—some of them for centuries—and they were determined to trap every mortal who set foot into that house because they were desperate for their memories. They used trickery and painful mind-probing, but, somehow, we made it out of that.

And though the Doctor expressed concern that the house would still be a danger to anyone entering it, he wasn't quite sure what to do, as he didn't even know what was trapping the ghosts in the first place. It was always his fear that someone else would end up trapped in there, and, one evening while we were stopping by our office in 1980, a frantic phone call to our agency proved him right.

"Smith and McCrimmon Investigative Services, Limited," I said, in way of greeting, as the Doctor stood beside me to hear, as well. "This is McCrimmon speaking."

"My young son—he's gone missing!" a woman's voice exclaimed. "You need to get over here right away!"

"We'll be right over," I said; she agreed and gave us her address, which I scribbled down. "Ye'll tell us the details once we get there, aye?"

"Yes, yes, but please hurry!"

"Aye, we'll be there soon," I said.

I quickly said goodbye and hung up the phone; the Doctor was already getting our longcoats, and handed me mine.

"Flatbush—that's a neighborhood in Brooklyn," the Doctor mused. "Close enough so that we don't need to bother the Old Girl; we'll go via local transport."

"We're nae leaving without the Stattenheim remote control," I said, flatly. "Ye always forget it, and then we never have it when we need it most!"

"Oh, all right, all right; there's no need to be a fusspot about it!" the Doctor huffed, stepping inside the TARDIS to retrieve it. "I didn't take you on as my partner in this little private investigation endeavor for you to complain about every little thing!"

"Aye, ye did," I said. "Ye missed my complaining."

"Well… maybe a little."

I suppressed a chuckle as we headed out the door; the Doctor was able to hide what he was thinking from most people, but, somehow, never from me.

* * *

We took a taxi to Brooklyn, to the address the lady had given me. She ushered us inside at once, introducing herself as Lotte.

"Thank you for coming here on such short notice," she said, wringing her hands. "I am grateful. And scared. I… I don't know what to do—I've called the police, but they can't explain what happened, even though I told them."

"Told them?" I asked.

"My youngest son has vanished into thin air!" Lotte exclaimed.

"Oh dear…" the Doctor sighed. "And… you saw it happen?"

"No," she admitted. "But my older boy did. He's in his room now, shaken and upset; he won't even tell _me_ what happened, and he hasn't spoken to the police about it, either. That's why I want you to talk to him."

"We'll do the best we can," I said. "But I donnae ken how we'd be able to get him to speak to us."

"He respects you," Lotte said, looking to the Doctor. "Especially you, Doctor Smith. His brother does, too."

"Oh, yes?" the Doctor asked, puzzled. "I am curious as to how your young sons know of us."

"Their babysitter; she's an elderly lady who lives in Manhattan… a Mrs. Williams… She always tells them stories about a man in a bow tie who traveled through time and space in a box that was bigger on the inside. After I called the police, I called her up and told her what had happened… And she said that you and all those stories she had told were real, and that you had once helped her find her son years ago when he had gone missing. And she said that if I called you for help, you would do the same for my son."

"And you believed her?" the Doctor said, ignoring me as I now started tugging at his sleeve.

"I knew she wouldn't lie about something like this," Lotte said. "And so I called the number she gave me. And here you are."

"Yes, so I am. _What_, Jamie?" he snapped at me, as I continued tugging on his sleeve.

"This is aboot that case we had, aye? The one in the demon house? The Home by the Sea?" I asked. "That couple who hired us the first time—they acted like they knew ye."

"Yes, they must be from some point in my timestream that I haven't reached yet—probably why they were so cryptic about their identities. I'm not supposed to know them yet," the Doctor sighed. "That's the trouble with being a time-traveler, you see… But, never mind that now. Your friend is quite right, Lotte; I am only too happy to help. And Jamie here is only too happy to assist."

"Aye," I said. "Where did ye last see yer wee lad?"

"Well, er… you already mentioned it," Lotte said. "We were outside the Adelo House—the Home by the Sea, as it's better known as. I never cared too much about that house, but the quickest way to get to the nearest taxi stand from where we had been before was to walk right past that place. I saw a taxi heading down the same street; I tried to flag it down, and the minute I turned my back, it happened. I heard my older boy cry out, and then he started yelling that his brother had disappeared, and that _something_ had done it to him!"

"Something?" the Doctor asked.

"He kept saying, 'It took him! It made him disappear!' Like I said, he won't tell anyone what 'it' was."

"It was an evil statue," a new voice said.

The Doctor and I turned to see the older laddie standing just outside the room—looking no more than seven years old; he was staring at the Doctor in some amount of awe—no doubt finding it hard to believe that the chappie from the tales he had heard was right in front of his eyes.

Lotte quickly introduced us to her older son—and then explained that some nasty folk had attempted to kidnap her children before, when they were even younger. She feared the kidnappers' involvement in this current case—or that they would get wind of it and move in—and, so, she requested that I refrain from actually writing their names down in this official case record. I was a bit curious as to what had happened before, but a look from the Doctor told me not to pry; besides that, we had the current case to worry about, and this "evil statue" that the older boy had seen.

"It was a big, stone statue of a woman—with wings," the boy said. "My brother and I saw it through the window of the house. It had its hands over its face, like this…" He covered his face with his hands. "But then we looked again, and it was looking at us through the window."

I looked to the Doctor in confusion; he, too, wasn't sure what to think.

"And, er… you believe this… statue made your brother disappear?" the Doctor asked, kindly.

The boy nodded.

"I know it did," he said. "'Cause we saw it in the doorway next—the doors kept opening and closing in the wind."

"Now that is odd," the Doctor mused. "From what I remember, those doors always shut tight."

"They did after my brother disappeared," the boy insisted. "When we looked again, the statue was outside, on the lawn—that was when Mama was trying to flag the taxi. My brother and I looked away, but when I looked back at him… he disappeared, and the statue was _right there_, with its finger out! The statue touched him and made him disappear!"

"And by the time he got my attention, there was nothing there," Lotte added.

"It was back inside, looking at us from the window again!" the boy insisted.

I scratched my head. This was a new one for me, and, judging by the look on the Doctor's face, for him, as well.

"I've ne'er heard of anything like that," I admitted.

"Neither have I," the Doctor added, confirming my thoughts. "What I will say, though, is that we've already seen that there are ghosts in that old place—ghosts which thrive on illusions and trickery to get people to stay trapped in that house. I'll wager that the ghosts conjured up an image of a walking statue, and then made it appear that the younger fellow disappeared, when, in fact, he was just invisible."

"The statue didn't walk, though," the older boy said, quietly. "It moved only when no one was looking at it."

The Doctor gently patted him on the shoulder.

"I've seen a lot of things in my time, but a statue that can move of its own volition, regardless of the method, is not one of them," he said. "That being said, I'm certain that your brother is in that house."

"Can you get him out of there?" Lotte asked. "Like you did for Mrs. Williams's son?"

"I shall attempt to do just that, Madame. Isn't that right, Jamie?"

"Oh, aye," I said.

"Are you gonna get him back in your magic box?" the boy asked.

"Well… I was thinking I wouldn't need the TARDIS for this, but she will make things easier, won't she…?" the Doctor mused. "Very well, then. Jamie, you and I shall take the TARDIS to the Home by the Sea. I really think that might be the best way to enter without alerting the ghosts to our presence." He looked to Lotte as he took out the Stattenheim remote control. "We'll be back soon, Madame."

"Please hurry…" she began, but trailed off as the Doctor activated the Stattenheim, causing the TARDIS to materialize right in her living room.

The older boy stared at it in wonder, standing on his toes to get a good look at the inside as the Doctor opened the door. I gave Lotte and her older son a reassuring nod as I followed him inside.

However, I did drop my false air of confidence as the TARDIS's doors closed behind me—something that didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor.

"Are you alright, Jamie?"

"For the moment, aye," I said. "But I don' like the idea of having to go back to that demon house."

"I know, Jamie; I know. I despise the thought of it, as well. But, this time, we are taking proper precautions before we set foot outside of this TARDIS. For one thing, I am activating a cloak for the Old Girl; the ghosts won't even know when the TARDIS arrives. And I have developed a few tricks to deal with their mind-probing powers, as well."

"Good; let's go and find the laddie, and get oot as soon as we can."

The Doctor paused; I knew that look on his face—the look that stated that he wanted to tell me something I didn't want to hear, but had to tell me anyway.

"Jamie…" he said. "That's what we did last time—made the rescue and fled. And look what's happened; another innocent is trapped in that horrible place. Jamie, I don't think we can be satisfied with just rescuing the boy this time; we need to find the root cause of those ghosts' behavior—due to their own imprisonment, they are the ones forcing living people to stay there against their wills. We cannot allow anymore disappearances; we have to find out how to stop those ghosts! …Unless, of course, you would rather stay in the TARDIS—"

"Oh, nae!" I exclaimed, immediately. "Ye wouldnae last withoot me!"

"Well, that's highly debatable, though I appreciate your sentiments," the Doctor said, smiling. He then threw the switch on the console. "Off we go, then—to the Home by the Sea!"


	2. From Above and Below

The Doctor and I both held onto the TARDIS console as she dematerialized, and then rematerialized—inside the house, I presumed. The Doctor, rather than looking pleased, seemed annoyed with the results.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"We've gone back in time!" he exclaimed. "We were in 1980, and now we're in 1920! Do you know what that means, Jamie?"

"Aye; we cannae get a drink," I sighed. "Ye said they outlawed drinks during the 1920s here…"

"_Jamie_! How could that lost child possibly be here in 1920 when we were in 1980?" the Doctor pointed out.

I opened my mouth to reply, but couldn't come up with an answer.

"Exactly," the Doctor said, looking down at the TARDIS console in disapproval. "Why have you brought us here!?"

The TARDIS whirred; it always struck me as interesting that the TARDIS was alive and could communicate with the Doctor. …I often suspected that she was the one really in charge of everything, though she liked to let the Doctor _think_ he was.

At any rate, the Doctor certainly didn't appreciate what the TARDIS was trying to tell him.

"We're in the right year? No, no, no, no, no! You've sent us six decades in the past—the boy's mother isn't even alive at this point in time!"

The TARDIS whirred again.

"You tracked down DNA that was similar to that of his mother and brother? And a temporal disruption centered around here? …Oh, I see…"

"Ye see what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Something is wrong with the space-time continuum, Jamie," the Doctor explained. "And the… focal point of this disturbance is, apparently, right beneath this house!"

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Well, to tell you the truth, Jamie, I'm not at all sure what it could mean, but it could very well be that the missing boy didn't disappear into thin air, but through time!"

"Like we just did?"

"Well, yes, but the TARDIS traveled through the Time Vortex to get us here," the Doctor explained. "That child wouldn't have had any say in where—or rather, when—he ended up. He must be horribly frightened, poor child."

"Then we should find him," I said. "Right away."

"And so we shall," the Doctor said. "But we need to take some necessary precautions first…" He walked over to me, and placed his fingertips on my temples. "I don't want those ghosts probing through your memories like they tried to last time; after what Goth and the others did to you, your memories are very sensitive to mind probes."

"Aye, I know."

"However, I can put up a temporary mental barrier in your mind that will prevent creatures with limited telepathic abilities from probing your mind; these ghosts will fall into that category, as I am assuming that they are human. However, I want your permission before I proceed."

"Go ahead."

I didn't feel any different, but the Doctor concentrated for a moment, and then removed his hands, pleased with his handiwork.

"That ought to last the night—and, hopefully, it won't take that long." He paused, putting his fingertips to his temples for a moment, putting up the barrier in his own mind. "Now, Jamie, this will protect us from the mind probes, but it won't help us see through those illusions."

"So if they cannae probe our minds, they'll resort to all kinds of trickery to keep us trapped?" I asked.

"Exactly so," the Doctor said. "So we must be very, very careful. Mind your steps, and please… don't wander off. If there is some sort of temporal disturbance causing people to spontaneously travel through time, I don't want you to be next."

"The TARDIS can find me like she found where the child is, aye?" I asked.

"There's no guarantee…" the Doctor admitted. "It was a perfect storm of the TARDIS tracking down similar DNA and finding a time where the temporal disturbance was particularly strong."

He didn't elaborate, and he didn't have to; he didn't like to remind me of what had happened to my family, either.

The Doctor placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Right, then. Shall we?"

I nodded, and the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors; the two of us stepped into the old, dusty drawing room of the Home by the Sea as the doors closed behind us.

The air was cold, and whispers surrounded us. And then, they appeared—the wispy ghost lights started pouring in—from the ground and the ceiling, and through the walls. I clung to the Doctor's arm as they swirled around the both of us, shuddering at the cold sensation as they tried to touch us. Moments later, though, the wisps backed away, uttering angry whispers as their access to our memories were denied.

"It's alright," the Doctor said. "There's nothing wrong with being scared."

"I'm nae scared of a few wisps of light," I lied.

"…Oh? Then is there some other reason why you're cutting off the circulation in my arm?"

Embarrassed, I let go of him, but then proceeded to throw my arms around him again as a shriek emerged from the wall, courtesy of a rather large ghost that was somehow stuck within the walls of the demon house.

"Don' do that!" I chided at the screaming face, which made no effort to stop.

"Oh, let's move on; I'm sure he'll get bored and stop soon enough," the Doctor huffed. "We must find that child!"

I sighed, still holding onto the Doctor's arm as he led the way, carefully stepping forward in case of holes in the floor that the ghosts had hidden from our view with their illusionary powers.

There was a cold sensation persisting around my head, and as I looked up, I saw that one of the wisps was hovering around and just above my head.

"Go away!" I hissed. "Begone!"

It had no effect; the ghost light kept hovering up and down, as though trying to grab my attention.

"Ye're trying to distract me, aren't ye?" I accused. "Well, it won' work!"

"Jamie!" the Doctor suddenly exclaimed.

I forgot about the ghost light pestering me as the Doctor indicated a small set of footprints that led towards the hall—and proceeded to follow the staircase.

"They look like they could be the right size," the Doctor said.

"Aye," I said. "Well, that's better than the cellar, isn't it?"

"I don't know about that, Jamie; we've been to the cellar before. We don't know _what_ is waiting for us up there."

Slowly, we crept into the hall; the Doctor took out a torch from his pocket and attempted to shine it upstairs.

"Well, it seems alright," he murmured, able to see better than I could. "Of course, that could all be a trick…"

My thoughts were diverted as the ghost light that had been pestering me now smacked into my face.

"_What_!?" I hissed, glaring at it.

The wee ghost light now pulled away, hovering in front of a large statue and illuminating the head. I used my own torch to cast some light on it, and it turned out to be the statue of an angel, its face buried in its hands.

There was something about it that seemed familiar, and I realized that this must have been the "stone woman with wings" that Lotte's older son had seen just before his brother had vanished.

"Doctor!" I whispered. "Doctor, look!"

"Not now, Jamie," the Doctor said. "I have to make sure that the staircase is safe for us to walk on…"

"But Doctor, look!"

He didn't respond, and, frustrated, I turned back to him and clamped a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Startled, he jumped, and then looked back at me with an annoyed glare.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry. But look!"

I turned the torch beam back towards the spot where the angel statue had been… but there was nothing there now, except for the solitary ghost light.

"Oh, Jamie, it's just one of the many ghosts—they can't hurt you now that I've put the barrier in your mind."

"But… but… It's gone!"

"What's gone?" the Doctor asked.

"The statue! The statue that Lotte's boys saw! It was right there, just a moment ago, and now it's gone!" I insisted.

"Are you certain?"

"Aye! That wee ghost light right there pointed it out to me…" I trailed off, realizing just how stupid that sounded.

"Jamie…" the Doctor said, kindly. "I do believe you have been tricked."

My face was probably burning from embarrassment, and the Doctor gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Those ghosts are going to do everything in their power to make you see things," he reminded me. "I have no doubt that I'll fall victim to an illusion or two before the night is over. …Now that I think about it, we have to wonder whether these footprints are part of the illusion. Maybe the ghosts want us to go upstairs—"

A small boy's frightened shout echoed from the upper floor, causing us both to jump again.

"Is that an illusion, too?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "But we can't take a chance in case it isn't. Follow right behind me, Jamie—and be careful!"

"Aye."

We began to work our way up the stairs. As I looked back, I saw the same angel statue back in the place where I had seen it before, with the solitary ghost light hovering in front of the statue's head. I shook an angry fist at the ghost light and that statue before leaving that thing behind.


	3. Eyes that Hold Despair

The stairs were horribly creaky as we ascended them.

"Oh, I really don't like the look of this," the Doctor said, glancing from the stairs to the weak wooden handrails. "This whole staircase is in horrible condition!"

"When we last went into this house, it was the 1950s," I said. "If it's the 1920s now, should it nae be better?"

"I'd say that this house is much, much older than that," the Doctor said. He sniffed at the wood. "I expect it was built… right around the time you were born, most likely."

"Well don' ye go sniffing me next to make sure…"

"Don't worry about that; unless you'd like me to introduce you to the wonderful world of cologne. _Ow_! No kicking my shins! That's unnecessary!"

"Are ye implying that I need cologne!?"

"I was implying nothing! I never particularly bothered with the stuff myself until I first arrived on Earth… Oh, never mind; we can bicker about this when we're not making our way up a dangerous flight of stairs!"

"Fine," I sighed.

I ignored the cold sensation I could feel just behind my ear again; that ghost light was still following me. Trying to shoo it away just wouldn't have any effect, I knew. What I didn't understand was why it insisted on following me when it was clear that it wouldn't be able to access my memories.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was aware of my silent frustrations due to his touch-telepathy activating as I grasped his arm again.

"Is that wisp _still_ bothering you?"

"Aye," I muttered. "Why me?"

"Well, I don't know," the Doctor mused, as we pressed on. "You'd think it would try harder to get at my memories, since I've got more… You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that it was personal."

"But what link do I have with a ghost from Brooklyn?" I asked.

"Spirit matters are not quite my area of expertise, alas," the Doctor sighed. "Well, it can't hurt you, at any rate. And now we've finally reach the top of these accursed stairs!"

We both took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I do hope we shall only need to traverse those one more time, on the way down," the Doctor said, glancing at me. "Oh, you're perspiring…"

I squawked in protest as he used a handkerchief to mop my brow.

"Och, let's just find the child," I said. "I'll look over in those bedrooms; you look in these ones."

"Yes—no! We mustn't get separated, Jamie! There's no telling what could happen! Now, follow me, carefully…"

Our relief at having made it up the stairs was short-lived as we realized that the floor we were on was nearly as worn and dangerous as the stairs had been. It still creaked with every step, and other ghost lights hovered above us, watching. The one wisp was still following me, but I was determined to ignore it now.

"Do you notice something odd, Jamie?"

"Ghost lights all around us, a face is screaming in the wall downstairs, there's a temporal disturbance somewhere in the house… Is that nae odd enough?"

The Doctor stared at me for a moment.

"…I was referring to the fact that the footprints we were following disappeared, but it is related to all that you just mentioned, I suppose," he stated. "The ghosts probably don't want us to find that child; they want to view his memories over and over again, and they know we'll stop that."

"But he's only a wee lad!" I said. "Six years old, according to Lotte; what kind of memories could he possibly have that would be worth anything to these ghosts?"

The Doctor looked up at the wisps.

"They've been here, trapped, for a very, very long time, Jamie," he said. "They've forgotten what it was like—the feel of the sun, the caress of the wind. They have to live vicariously through the memories of those who step into this house—even if it's only a few years' worth of memories."

He opened the door of one of the bedrooms; we shined our torches inside and, upon realizing that there was no one in this room, didn't bother going inside.

"This isn't going to work," the Doctor said. "Remember; we're only going to be able to see what the ghosts want us to see—and they won't want us to find him."

"Aye, so… maybe the room itself is hidden?" I said, pressing my hands against the walls and trying to feel for a hidden door.

"I believe so, but you're going about it the wrong way. If we tried running our hands over every inch of wall in this place, we'd be here all night," the Doctor said.

"So we'll call oot to the laddie," I offered.

"He has no reason to trust us," the Doctor sighed.

"Lotte said he loves hearing aboot yer stories," I reminded him.

"That well may be, but as far as he knows, I'm just a figment of those stories; he might assume I'm a trick by the ghosts. No, Jamie; we're going to have to cast aside our primary senses and use ones they cannot influence."

"This is getting into how yer people are telepathic, aye?" Jamie sighed. "Well, then, that's yer specialty."

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor said. "The last time we were in this house and the ghosts had hidden me from you, you were able to find me."

"Aye, well, I've been with ye long enough for ye to influence that sixth sense, or whatever it is. I'm…in tune with ye more than I would be with some laddie I've ne'er met before."

"Well, if that's what concerns you, there are still ways that you can help. You can be my amplifier."

"Eh?"

"It's simple, really…" He raised his hands again, and then paused. "With your permission, of course. We made an agreement that I wouldn't poke around your head if you didn't want me to—"

"Aye, it's fine," I said, knowing that had also been the reason why he had wanted my permission before putting up the protective barrier in my mind earlier. "I only said that when I first started traveling with ye because I still thought ye were a witch at the time. I know better now."

"Nevertheless, I don't like poking about in someone's head without their approval—dire emergencies notwithstanding, of course. And we're not at the dire stage yet." He placed his hands on my temples again. "Now, then; you do the same to me."

I shrugged and placed my hands on his temples, as well.

"Yes, just right," the Doctor said. "Now, close your eyes and let your mind go completely blank. I know it shan't be easy with that ghost light hovering around you, but I want you to ignore it completely. Just concentrate on strengthening your mental focus."

He fell silent now. We stood like that; I'm not certain for how long. But, soon, we were able to "hear" a frightened child's thoughts, wishing that his mother and brother were here to help him out of the house.

The Doctor gently guided me towards the source; still keeping our eyes closed, we reached a door.

"You can open your eyes now, Jamie," the Doctor said. "We've found him."

I opened my eyes, surprised to see us as what looked like a panel of wall, and yet, the Doctor opened an unseen doorjamb, nodding at me to follow him.

The illusion faded as we walked through the doorway; the ghost lights in the room rushes at us angrily, and then left us alone, realizing that we were not affected by them. The one annoying wisp was, of course, still following me.

But the Doctor and I both glanced at the child cowering on the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. I glanced back at the Doctor, and, to my surprise, he was observing the child with a noticeable amount of sympathy in his eyes.

"Doctor?" I asked, softly.

"He was about ready to cry himself to sleep…"

"Aye, well… we can tell him that we're here to help…" I said, beginning to take a few steps towards him.

"No, Jamie; not yet!" the Doctor whispered; thrusting an arm out to stop me from walking any further into the room. "I must check something first!"

As the boy looked up, noticing us for the first time, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and got down on his hands and knees, aiming the screwdriver under the bed, and then looking under it himself.

"It's quite alright—nothing there," he said, satisfied. He then looked up, smiling gently as the boy looked at him in wonder. "Hullo, there."

"Are… are you the Raggedy Doctor?" he asked, in an awed whisper. "The one Mrs. Williams told all those stories about?"

"Well, I suppose I am, aren't I?" the Doctor asked. "And Jamie and I are here to get you out of this horrid place."

The boy's face fell.

"I can't leave…" he said, tearfully.

"Whyever not?" the Doctor asked.

"The ghosts won't let me. They keep making me think of things until my head hurts…" the boy said, rubbing his head. "And if I try to go downstairs, the statue won't let me go, either—she stands in the way, showing her pointy teeth."

"Well, it's probably just an illusion to scare you into going back up here," the Doctor said, gently. He paused as the boy didn't seem to understand him. "I mean, the statue isn't real. It only looks real."

But the boy shook his head.

"She's real," he insisted. "She tapped me on the shoulder, and then I was here, in the house. And if I try to leave, she's right there."

"Um… Doctor," I said, quietly. "Do ye think it could be that the statue _is_ real? That the ghosts are able to make it move in some way?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "In all my five hundred years of life, I've never even heard of a statue that can move at all, let alone like that. And you and the boys are the only ones who've seen it; I still haven't even caught so much as a glimpse! Are you absolutely certain that it was real, Jamie?"

"I don' know; I only saw it for a second," I admitted.

"Mrs. Williams says they're real," the boy insisted. "She says that they are mean creatures, but you fight them. And that they only ever beat you once—"

"I have a strange feeling that you're giving me information that I'm not supposed to know yet," the Doctor said, gently interrupting the boy. "The best thing you can do right now to make sure that I can beat them is by keeping all the secrets. And if these statues are real and did only beat me once… Well, it shan't be today—I can promise you that."

I wasn't really paying attention at this point; I was looking back at the ghost light hovering by my head. Had the wisp been trying to warn me? But why would it do that, when the other ghosts seemed to be working with the statue to keep the child here? Or was it only pretending, trying to get me to lower my guard?

I looked up at the ghost light.

"What do ye want from me?" I muttered.

Of course, it didn't speak loud enough; there was a wee whisper, but it was lost in the whispers of the other ghost lights. And soon, the Doctor's voice brought me back to the present. He was asking him permission to put a mental barrier in his mind; the child didn't quite understand what he meant at first, but after the Doctor explained that he was going to stop the ghosts from forcing him to think of things, he agreed. Soon, once the barrier had been put in his mind, the child now threw his arms around the Doctor's neck. The Doctor shrugged and decided to carry him.

"Well, all that's left is to return to the TARDIS and bring him home!" he said, pleased. "And then we'll see to fixing the problem that plagues this house."

"You're gonna come back here?" the boy asked, amazed.

"Well, we don't want anyone else to get lost in here, do we?"

"You really are just like Mrs. Williams said!" the boy grinned.

The Doctor looked at me with a sideways glance.

"Now, now; I don't think I should get all the credit; Jamie here helps me out a lot. I don't know where I'd be without him."

I smiled at the both of them.

"I'm going t' make sure the stairs are alright for ye," I said. "Ye don' want them to give way while ye're carrying him."

"Well, be careful! And don't wander too far!"

"Aye," I said, heading back out onto the landing. The single ghost light followed me out, and then flew ahead, floating down the staircase.

Aiming the torchlight down the stairs, I was surprised to see the angel statue back at the base of the stairs. This time, however, it wasn't holding its face in its hands; it was looking right at me with its stone eyes.

I briefly glanced up, seeing some of the ghost lights hovering there, but when I looked back down, the statue's face was now inches from my own, its stone mouth open. As the boy said, it was baring its fangs at me.

Though it shames me to admit it, I think I did let out a cry of fright, for the next thing I knew, I heard the Doctor frantically asking me if I was alright, and I could hear his footsteps approaching us. Instinctively, I turned my head to face the sound of his voice and footsteps… And I can't even begin to describe what happened next, but I'll try my best—

I felt something touch my shoulder, and then everything suddenly jolted. It kind of felt like the jolting the TARDIS does as she flies through the time vortex… except that I wasn't in the TARDIS. I was still in the demon house.

In an instant, everything in the house looked so much newer; the wood wasn't as worn and rotten, and the staircase was firm. I tested the first couple of steps, and then turned back to the other room.

"Doctor!" I called. "Doctor, something's happened to the house! Is it another illusion, do ye reckon?"

But there was no reply, and a chill went down my spine.

"Doctor!?" I called, silently pleading for a response.

I looked around; there were a few ghost lights darting this way and that—but nowhere near as many as there had been before. And the one pesky wisp that had been following me had vanished.

"_Doctor_!?"

When, after the third time, there was no reply, I realized that, somehow, I had gone back further in time. I didn't pause to think; I had to know what year it was—somehow, I had to get word back to the Doctor so that he could find me.

I tore down the stairs, pausing as I saw the angel statue blocking the front door. The statue looked different too… as though it was "healthier."

I crossed to the window next, and froze as I saw the reflection of the angel statue in the glass. Whirling back around, I could see this one trying to close in on me again. And that was when I remembered what Lotte's older son had said—

"_It moved only when no one was looking at it."_

I sidled sideways towards the door, not taking my eyes off of the statue. Fumbling backwards for the doorjamb, I somehow managed to get it open and slipped outside, closing the door behind me. And then I ran.

The first thing I noticed was that the tall buildings that reached the skies were gone; most of the buildings were gone. I had clearly gone back in time a significant number of years. I didn't know exactly how far back I had gone until, after running for quite some time, I found myself approaching a small group of people in uniforms. Even under the dim light of my torch, their jackets gleamed red. And I think my heart skipped a beat.

They were soon followed by more of his colleagues, all in uniform, pointing at me—or, rather, the light in my hand. I turned off the torch and threw myself to the ground, watching them from the shadows as my blood boiled. Those were the uniforms that had haunted my nightmares in the months following Culloden, and now, face to face with Redcoats again, that angel statue and the demon house suddenly seemed far more inviting.


	4. Adrift Without Direction

Instinct took over me; I began to do what I had done at Culloden to try to keep away from the Redcoats—stay low to the ground and attempt to sneak away, and take my chances back in the house.

But the Redcoats had already been rushing over towards me at the sight of my torch's light. There were three of them.

"Oi!" one of them said, as he spotted me, holding a lantern over me. "What are you doing down there, Boy?"

"It's just one of the Highlanders," another said, in dismissal. "I'll wager he thought that light was one of those will-o-the-wisps his folk keep talking about. You'd best get back to your ranks before the colonel sees you!"

I looked up, utterly confused. They weren't taking me prisoner?

"_What_?" I asked, flatly.

"Your ranks!" he said. "With the other Highlanders! Go on, then; we're expected to outflank the rebels, but we can't do that if we're not in ranks! Forget about those crazy wisps of yours!"

"Where's your weapon? What kind of rubbish uniform is that?" the third Redcoat asked, snickering at my longcoat. "Where did you get that, Boy?"

"What seems to be the trouble?" another voice said—one that sounded horribly familiar to me.

"_Colonel_!" the three Redcoats exclaimed, saluting. "We saw an odd light, Sir. Found this Highlander out of ranks, trying to chase it!"

"Get back into your ranks," the Redcoat colonel said. "I'll deal with him."

"Yes, Sir," the three of them said, running off to join the others.

I still stayed where I was, hardly daring to breathe. Wasn't I just as much a rebel as the Colonists? Why were they talking to me as though my people were on the same side as them? And why was the colonel's voice so familiar to me?

"You, Highlander!" the colonel quipped at me. "What is the meaning of this fancy dress you're wearing? What's your name?"

"Ah… I… I was…"

"Speak up, Boy! I asked for your name!"

"James Robert McCrimmon!" I yelped. "Piper to the McClarens!"

I wasn't sure what I expected in response, but a dead silence wasn't it. I looked up in time to see the Redcoat colonel holding his lantern over me to see my face.

"It _can't_ be…"

By now, I was _very_ confused. But as the colonel drew his face closer to get a better look at me, he brought himself closer to his lantern-light, allowing me to see _his_ face. It was a face that had aged considerably since I had last seen him, but once I had taken a good look, I soon placed both the face and the voice that belong to it.

"_Lieutenant Ffinch_!?" I blurted out. "What are ye doing here!?"

"I should ask you the same question!" he quipped back. "And it's _colonel_ now, if you please!"

"Oh, my apologies!" I snarled, standing up now. "As if I have better things to do than remember the rank of the murderous Redcoat—"

"Will you be quiet!?" Ffinch hissed at me. "You'll draw attention to us!"

"Don' ye tell me what t' do!" I snarled back at him. "I see ye're still doing what ye do best—brutally destroying people who only want their freedom!"

"The rebel Colonists are behaving just as badly as you Jacobites did; I am under orders to deal with them—"

"Och, orders! _Orders_! Just like ye were under orders to kill me!?" Involuntarily, I placed a hand up to protect my neck. "What are ye going to do now, eh? Finish what ye tried to start!?"

"McCrimmon, I have no quarrel with you!" Ffinch said, waving a hand at me in dismissal. "Either join the ranks of the Highlanders here, or leave me in peace!"

"No quarrel, eh? Well, I've got plenty of unfinished business with ye!" I hissed, glancing around to make sure we weren't attracting anyone else. No one seemed to be bothered enough to check up on us, thank goodness.

"Unfinished business with me?" Ffinch asked, incredulously. "McCrimmon, I let you and your merry band of madmen go!"

"After ye tried to kill us, and only because Polly had yer identity disc," I reminded him. "And it was either ye or one of yer men who killed the Laird's son, Alexander McLaren! As they were yer men, I hold ye responsible as his killer!"

"Killer!?" Ffinch exclaimed. "That was thirty years ago!"

"And that makes it alright now!?" I quipped back, silently registering that it meant that I was somewhere in the year 1776. "And besides, it may be thirty years for ye, but it's only been five for me—and I don' care how long has passed; ye still murdered my friend!"

"Five years…?" He held the lantern closer to me, and I could see his eyes widen in fear. "Oh, God, what witchcraft is this!?"

"It's nae witchcraft; it's…" I trailed off, and then smirked. "It's retribution for the blood ye spilled thirty years ago, and the blood ye're aboot to spill now. For choosing the wrong side and now allowing people to be free."

"Is that so?" Ffinch asked, and I was slightly shaken to see that he was smirking now. "Then it looks as though your own people will have to face retribution for choosing the wrong side, this time."

"Wha…?"

"You didn't figure it out when we were asking you to rejoin the ranks of the other Highlanders?" Ffinch asked. "A lot has changed in thirty years. Your people—the children of the rebels who gave us so much trouble thirty years ago, are now joining us when we face Washington's troops."

"No…" I said, refusing to believe it. "No; my people are proud! After what ye did to us, we would ne'er… _sell oot_!"

"There are Highlanders now part of the British Army; you are behind the times, clearly. I don't know where you've been these thirty years, but it is clear you are quite out of touch with the affairs of the people you glorify so much." Ffinch smirked. "I can show them to you, if you think I'm lying. There might even be people you know—among the older ones, of course. Though you'll have to explain how it is you came to be here, barely aged. I'm still curious about that."

I didn't reply; I didn't know what to say. I could tell from his smug tone that he wasn't lying, even if I didn't want to admit it.

"I suggest you leave, McCrimmon, if you don't want to get involved in this inevitable battle," Ffinch continued. "You clearly ended up here by accident; you are not enrolled in our army, and I know you wouldn't join the rebels for fear of facing your own people. I would tell you to return home… but it's clear that you don't belong there."

If he hadn't said that last sentence, I probably would have left and continued with my quest of trying to find a way to reach the Doctor. But then he said that last sentence… My blood had still not simmered down, and my temper got the better of me when I heard him say that. Before I could stop myself, I swung my right arm around until my fist connected with his chin, sending him to the ground.

It was only a split-second later that I fully realized what I had done—punched a Redcoat colonel when there were dozens upon dozens of Redcoats only yards away. I turned tail and ran, and Ffinch got up and was now pursuing me; he may not have had a quarrel with me before we started talking, but he certainly did now.

I could hear him barking orders at the other Redcoats, telling them to stay in their ranks—that he would deal with me on his own. I wasn't about to let _that_ happen; I headed for the place where I knew I would find shelter—back to the demon house. From my short time inside of it since arriving in 1776, it still seemed abandoned, and now that I knew how to stop the angel statue from attacking, I figured that I would be safer in there.

When I entered the house, however, the angel statue was gone. Though I was puzzled, I didn't stop to question my good fortune. I turned to face the front door now, drawing my knife and holding it out as Ffinch entered.

"McCrimmon—"

"No," I said, holding my knife up. "I am through listening to ye. I don' need t' hear yer insults!"

"You know so little," Ffinch snarled. "You're still just a stupid, brash child!"

"I know more than ye'll e'er know!" I shot back. "I know what lies beyond this Earth, beyond the stars, and across the vast expanses of this galaxy! I know aboot motor cars and aeroplanes and electricity!" I flicked my torch on and off a few times to prove my point. "I know aboot computers and telephones and things ye'd ne'er dream of! …And I also know that e'en though ye'll get Washington to retreat in this battle, the Colonists will still win their freedom! The Americans will win, and they'll build buildings that reach the sky, right where the battle will be fought!"

"Oh, you know, do you?" Ffinch sneered. "You can see the future?"

"No," I admitted. "The Doctor taught me, in one of my lessons. Though he ne'er did mention that my people chose the wrong side."

"The Doctor? That Doctor von Wer fellow is here, too!? I might have known!"

"He's nae here, but I'll see to it that he will be. I got separated from him and ended up in 1776. No matter, though; he'll find a way to find me. Somehow. And he'll teach ye a lesson or two, as well," I vowed. "He's nae like us; he's a man from the stars, and compared t' him… ye're nothing!"

"Are you quite certain he's not here already?" Ffinch scoffed. "Because those things appear to be akin to some enchantment he'd be using."

"What things?" I asked.

Ffinch silently glanced upward. Following his gaze, I could see the number of ghost lights hovering over us. There were a dozen—again, far fewer than the number that had been there back in 1920, but they seemed to be changing their position from above the both of us to above Ffinch.

"Get oot of here," I said, quietly. "Tell the others that ye dealt with me—that I attacked and ye killed me or something; tell them whate'er ye want!"

"What are you going on about?"

"Just _go_," I hissed.

Part of me was wondering why I wanted him to go. After all the grief he had given me, and after murdering my friend, you'd have thought I'd have been perfectly fine with letting the ghost lights have their way with him.

"Is this another trick—like the light in your hand?" Ffinch scoffed. "I'd humor you, but I don't have time for this. You're right; I might as well go back—"

He had taken one step backwards, and the ghost lights all swooped at him, surrounding him. He yelled and tried to bat them away with his hands, and then clutched at his head as the mind probing began.

I stood there like a fool for a moment. There was a time when I would've reveled in the schadenfreude of the same man who had once tried to hang me now being tormented by the spirits here. But that was what I was five years ago.

Besides that, I knew the Doctor wouldn't approve of me doing nothing.

Frustrated and angry—both at myself and at Ffinch, I strode over to him, taking him by the arm.

"The moment ye get oot of this demon house, ye'll be fine!" I said, as he continued to cringe. "I told ye t' leave!"

"They… don't affect you!?" he gasped, wincing more as the ghosts probed further into his memories.

"They would, but the Doctor put up a barrier in my mind to protect me," I said. "Och, just hold on; ye're nae very far from the door…"

He wouldn't move, so I sighed and began to push him backwards towards the doorway. He stopped cringing for a moment to look at something over my shoulder, and his eyes widened in fear.

"What is that!?" he demanded.

"Just get oot of the house, and ye won' have t' worry aboot whate'er is in here!" I said, getting exasperated now.

"It's right behind you!"

"I told ye, the ghosts won' hurt me!" I said. "Just back away five more steps and ye'll be free of all this—"

Ffinch suddenly grabbed my arm and threw me aside and towards the floor. I cursed as I hit the floor, and turned around to glare angrily at him.

And then he vanished right in front of my eyes; the angel statue was right behind the spot where Ffinch had stood. The statue had an unnerving smile on its face, and I knew, somehow, it was taunting me.

The wisps swirled around me, briefly, before giving up on me again as I got to my feet, staring down the statue.

"What did ye do t' him?" I asked. "Where did ye take him!?"

Of course, the thing didn't answer me. Giving up, I now backed out of the room, hoping I could find a mirror or other reflective surface so that I could force the thing to look at its own reflection, hoping that would stop it from moving.

I shuffled awkwardly into the kitchen, and it was there that I tripped over something and stumbled backwards.

Sitting up, I quickly turned the torch on to make sure that the statue wouldn't try to sneak upon me again. After it was clear that it was going to wait for me in front of the door, I turned the torchlight beam down to see what I had tripped over.

It was a man in a Redcoat uniform, but the uniform was worn and old now, and the wearer had grown even older, his hair long and unkempt, and wearing a grizzled beard.

"Ffinch…?" I asked, horrified.

The old man stirred, looking up at me.

"McCrimmon…?" he asked, quietly.

"What happened to ye?" I asked, holding him up now as I looked around to make sure that the statue wouldn't return.

"Sent… back in time. They wouldn't let me leave the house…"

"The wisps? Or the statue?"

"All of them…" Ffinch wheezed. "Statue brought me food and water… I just grew older here."

"How long?" I asked.

"Twenty years, I think?" he said, wheezing again. "Don't… have much time…"

"Look, just shut up," I said. "I told ye; the Doctor will get here once I find a way to let him know I'm in 1776. He'll find a way to help ye, too. Ye just conserve yer strength in the meantime."

"No… No, it's no use…" Ffinch said. "I need to let you know… In the cellar…"

"Shush!" I ordered again, but he ignored me.

"There's something… not of this world in that cellar. A void of… lights and colors… Could barely move… Some sort of magic…"

"Whate'er it is, it's nae magic; it must be the time disruption the Doctor was talking aboot!"

"The ghosts can't leave…"

"Aye, I know."

"…Because of it. They hate it; it… restricts them…"

I stared at him.

"Are ye sure?" I asked. "The time disruption is why the ghosts cannae leave?" That was when the realization of Ffinch's situation struck me. "Ffinch, ye have to hold on! If ye die here, ye'll join them—the other ghosts!"

Finch slightly shook his head.

"Too late…"

"But the Doctor will find a way!" I said. "If ye just hold on until he gets here…" But Ffinch was already going slack in my arms. "_Ffinch_!"

The sick irony of this situation was not lost on me; this was the man who had played a direct role in the death of my best friend, Alexander, and had almost executed me, the Laird, the Doctor, and Ben. During the days following Culloden, I'd have killed Ffinch without a second thought. But here I was, pleading with him to live.

Ffinch looked up at me; he couldn't speak, but I could read his lips—

"_Was she happy?_"

It took me a moment, but I realized that he was referring to Polly.

"Aye," I said, with a firm nod. "She and Ben went on their own way some time ago, but… I'm sure they're happy."

That was all Ffinch needed to hear; his eyes closed soon after, and he did not awaken again. His breathing stilled, and, a moment later, a ghost light emerged from his still form and began hovering around me. And it was then that a second horrifying realization came to my mind.

"It was ye…!" I gasped, staring from his body to his spirit. "Ye were the ghost light pestering me in 1920, when I was there with the Doctor! Ye were trying t' warn me aboot the angel statue! …Just like ye did back there in the drawing room…"

The harsh realization that it should have been me and not him to be sent further back in time came crashing down on my shoulders. And I was still trapped in 1776 with no way of letting the Doctor know that.


	5. Longer Nights of Gloom

_Notes: And this is the final chapter! The mention of the green gems is a nod to the Doctor Who Legacy game, in which you frequently have to resolve paradoxes and temporal disturbances by matching gems. Thanks again to everyone who followed this fic!_

* * *

I knew that my options were limited; somehow, I had to get word to the Doctor without getting sent further back in time. But, before that, there was something that I owed Ffinch; after receiving approval from his spirit, I set about the task of laying his physical form to rest—a burial at sea, after I had tricked the Angel into moving away from the door just enough so that I could get him out.

Shortly after the deed was done, just as I was pondering what to do next, I heard the telltale sound of the TARDIS. I froze for a minute as she materialized in front of the demon house, wondering how the Doctor had been able to find me, even without my sending a message to him.

And though I was mostly relieved that the Doctor had found me and I would no longer be stranded here, it still vexed me that if he had come just an hour before, he could've helped me get Ffinch out of the house before he had died. And there was the matter of how he had conveniently forgotten to mention, during the course of our lessons, of how my people had sold out.

I guess that was why, when he opened the doors to let me in, my reaction towards him was rather cold.

"Jamie!" he exclaimed, the relief evident in his voice. "Oh, Jamie, are you alright?"

"Took ye long enough to get here," I muttered, dodging out of the way as he attempted to place his hand on my shoulder.

The Doctor stood there for a moment, his hand still in the air after my rebuff, before he crossed back to the console and closed the doors again.

"I truly am sorry, Jamie," he said. "I'd have turned the entire expanse of space and time inside-out until I had found you. I'm just glad I did before it was too late—though I did have help."

"Help? Help from who—?" I asked, and then paused as I saw Lotte's younger son, staring up at me.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wide-eyed.

I managed a smile, not wanting to upset him with how upset I was.

"Aye, I'm fine," I lied. "I'm surprised ye came along for the ride."

"He insisted on it; he felt horribly guilty after you had vanished, and wouldn't even think of going home until we'd found you," the Doctor said.

"And he was the one who helped you find me?" I asked, confused.

"Uh-uh," the boy said. "It was one of the ghosts!"

"What…?" I asked, looking back at the Doctor for confirmation.

"Yes," he said, not meeting my gaze. "That troublesome ghost light that was pestering you told the TARDIS where you were—it was in contact with the door, which allowed the TARDIS to understand its thoughts. I wonder why that ghost light wanted to help you…"

I looked away now, sighing again. Even in death, Ffinch had found a way to help me so that I didn't suffer the same fate that he had.

I stood there, pondering this silently, as the Doctor threw the switch on the console again. After we dematerialized and rematerialized again, the Doctor opened the doors and then smiled at Lotte's younger son.

"They're waiting for you," he said, gently.

I watched as he ran out, eagerly, and could hear his joyous exclamations mingling with those of his brother and Lotte. Lotte practically dragged the both the Doctor and me out of the TARDIS, thanking us with teary eyes.

The Doctor insisted that her happiness was all we needed, but Lotte insisted on giving us food to partake in. I wasn't hungry, and the Doctor barely ate much at all; still, Lotte insisted that we take the food with us, which we did, seeing as though we didn't want to be too rude and refuse to do that, too.

But I was surprised that, upon leaving Lotte and her reunited family, the Doctor had the TARDIS land back in our office in Manhattan.

"What are we doing back here!?" I asked. "I thought we were going back to the house to figure oot how to free the ghosts!"

"That was the original plan," the Doctor sighed. "But I don't want to force you to go back. You must have had a horrible time going back to 1776, and the fact that you turned down food is enough to let me know that you're not well."

"Doctor, we have to go back!" I exclaimed. "We have to go back right now to 1776 and free the ghosts!"

The Doctor stared at me in surprise, and then sighed.

"I'm afraid that's not possible; if we do free the ghosts, it would have to be now, in 1980. The ghosts have been trapped here until this point in time—that was why they arranged for Lotte's son to be taken." He paused. "I should let you know, that statue fled before I had the chance to see it. The boy insisted that was what made you disappear."

"It was, but we cannae worry aboot that now!" I said. "Are ye sure there's no way t' free the ghosts before 1980!?"

"Really, Jamie, what has gotten into you?" The Doctor's expression softened. "What happened in 1776?"

"A lot of things," I said, not meeting his gaze again. "Ye know how, earlier, ye were saying that ye thought the ghost was pestering me because of something personal?"

"Yes."

"Ye were right, only he wasn't pestering me; he was trying to warn me aboot the statue," I said. "Because the statue killed him. Sort of. It sent him back in time while we were both in this house, in 1776, and by the time I found him, he died."

"He was a Redcoat, wasn't he?"

I now glanced back at the Doctor.

"How…?"

"The look on your face when I found you…" the Doctor sighed. "It was the same look I had when we encountered the Daleks together. You remember that, of course. But I had that look once even before that, when I encountered the Daleks just after I regenerated, before I met you at Culloden—"

He stopped short as I punched the wall of the office.

"Jamie!?"

"Doctor, just tell me one thing!" I said, turning back to him. "If a Dalek, who had fought alongside other Daleks that had killed yer family, ended up killing yer best friend, and then tried to kill ye and others ye cared for, suddenly turned up oot of the blue five years later, insulted ye, and then died to save ye, what would ye do!?"

The Doctor walked over to me and gripped my shoulder; this time, I let him.

"I'd be highly upset and confused," he said. "Does this Dalek… or should I say, Redcoat, have a name?"

"Aye, and ye met him. He tried t' execute ye and Ben, too, along with me and the Laird."

"Oh, my word…" the Doctor murmured. "Ffinch!?"

I nodded, and then explained the whole story.

"If I hadnae lost my temper and hit him, he wouldnae have followed me," I said. "But I was so angry when he said that I di'n belong in Scotland, I just…"

"Yes, I see," the Doctor said, silently glancing at where I had punched the wall.

"I mean… how would ye feel if a Dalek said that ye di'n belong on Gallifrey?" I asked, without thinking.

"I'd tell this Dalek that he was absolutely right," the Doctor said.

I slapped my forehead.

"Och, but ye ran away! I…" I trailed off, standing dumbly for a moment. "…I ran away, too, di'n I?"

"And we both only went home after Goth and the others at my tribunal forced us to," the Doctor reminded him. "But I think that this is not the time to discuss that."

"Aye," I said. "But there's one more thing I need to ask ye. If that Dalek who did and said all those things to ye had its spirit trapped… would ye go through the trouble of helping it after e'erything it had done t' ye?"

"I know what I would do, Jamie," he said, softly. "But you need to decide what _you_ are going to do."

"Ffinch and his men killed Alexander," I said, flatly.

"Yes."

"And he tried to kill me—_us_!" I reminded him.

"Also true."

"And the only reason he helped us capture Grey and let us go was because Polly had his identity disc."

"Likely."

"…Then why do I want t' help him?"

"Why, indeed?" the Doctor mused. "We can ponder over that later; as you've made your decision, I suggest we return and help!"

"Aye," I agreed. "…Ye're sure we cannae go back in time and work on it? He'd have been waiting for more than two hundred years!"

"If we did, it would create a paradox—and the space-time continuum in the New York area is already weak and warped in many places," the Doctor sighed. "Other paradoxes have clearly happened here before, and if we created _another_ paradox, it could destroy this area of space-time!" He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know it seems cruel to have Ffinch and the other spirits waiting for so long, but we have no choice. There already is a temporal disturbance in that house somewhere—"

"The cellar!" I exclaimed. "Ffinch said it was in the cellar—he saw it with his own eyes! He said that the ghosts are afraid of it, and that it keeps them trapped there."

"Of course!" the Doctor hissed, his eyes flaring. "A temporal disturbance big enough would have a gravitational field; spirits don't have any mass—they wouldn't be able to leave a gravitational field like that!"

"Do ye know how t' make the disturbance go away?" I asked.

"Energy feedback—and we'd need a powerful, but concentrated, form of energy," the Doctor said. "I have everything we need in the TARDIS! Let's go!"

* * *

Soon, we were back in the demon house again; the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS with a small sack in his hand—holding, I assumed, what we needed to fix the temporal disturbance. The ghost light that was Ffinch immediately hovered near us as we arrived, seemingly relieved to see us.

"Ffinch," the Doctor said, with a reassuring nod. "Thank you for helping me find Jamie. We're back to free you and the others from this wretched house."

"Aye," I said. "But that void ye saw in the cellar—can ye take us to it? Once we get rid of that, ye'll be free."

Ffinch now hovered away, and the Doctor and I followed him, past the hole in the dining room floor that the Doctor and I had made the first time we had investigated the house, through the kitchen, and down to the cellar.

Ffinch now phased through a wall, and back again, hovering in front of us.

"Through the wall?" the Doctor asked. He took out his sonic screwdriver, waving it back and forth over the wall. "Well, it's not a very thick wall—just thin sheets of wood put up to seal this part of the cellar off; I think it was something that was hastily constructed to hide something that people didn't want to see. Oh, you humans do befuddle me sometimes; as if hiding the problem is enough to solve it…."

"Let me…" I said, and after venting my emotions with a few kicks and punches, I had made a sizeable hole through the wood. Through it, the swirling vortex of color that Ffinch had described was visible. "Doctor, there it is!"

"Yes…" the Doctor sighed. "It's definitely a temporal disturbance; that light is from within the Time Vortex itself—so don't look directly into it."

"Aye," I said. "But how do we get rid of it?"

"With these," the Doctor said, pulling a few green gems from the sack he was carrying. I had seen those gems before—the Doctor had taken them from Gallifrey, and had used them to attack beasties sometimes; the gems were volatile, and would unleash a powerful charge of energy if they were in groups of three or more.

The Doctor slipped through the hole and began hurling the green gems at the temporal disturbance; I followed him inside, reaching into the sack and also throwing gems at the disturbance, taking care not to look into it.

"How long do we have t' do this for?" I said, shouting due to the sounds of the energy surges being emitted from the gems.

"Until the temporal disturbance vanishes," the Doctor called back. "We might be here for a while—slow and steady, you know. A huge charge of gems might close it up all at once, but we can't risk getting too close; you wouldn't want to fall in and get pulled into the Time Vortex."

"Oh, aye… Are ye sure ye have enough gems in that wee sack?"

"Not to worry—it's bigger on the inside!" he chimed back, with a grin.

…Of course, it would be…

The Doctor and I continued to throw more gems into the disturbance; the colors kept changing, and it was getting smaller—a good sign, according to the Doctor. But it was after a while that Ffinch, who had been staying well back from the temporal disturbance, suddenly flew forward to get my attention. Turning around, I saw the angel statue halfway towards the hole that I had made in the wall, its mouth open and baring fangs at us.

It was then that I realized that the statue was not living under the same rules as the ghosts, and, for some reason, it did not want us fixing the temporal disturbance.

"Doctor…" I said, trying to make myself heard again. "Doctor, the statue—"

Again, by reflex, I looked back towards the Doctor before remembering that I wasn't supposed to look away. I turned back to see the statue inches from my face again, ready to send me back in time once more.

Thinking quickly, I reached behind me, grabbing the bag of gems from the Doctor, and then poured the gems onto the angel statue.

"Jamie—!?" the Doctor exclaimed from behind me, as sparks flew around the statue. "Jamie, look out!"

The Doctor wrapped his arms around me, pulling me down to the floor so that the sparks wouldn't pass any collateral damage on to me. This caused me to look away from the statue for a moment; desperate, I looked back up. I saw the statue falling forward, ending up passing face-first into the colorful void. The gem-created sparks surrounding the statue practically exploded as it fell through, and when it was all over, there was nothing left but empty air—the colors were gone.

And the Doctor and I continued to remain sprawled on the floor, the Doctor gripping my arm.

"Please tell me ye saw the statue that time," I said, staring up at the ceiling.

"I saw something of a humanoid, winged shape amidst all those sparks…" the Doctor admitted. "Unfortunately, I didn't get a good look at it."

I just grumbled and muttered.

"Well, if it helps, you did save me from that thing," the Doctor said. "Just one of the reasons why I keep you around."

I gave his shin another weak kick in response.

**Epilogue: Things that Go to Make Up a Life**

Neither of us moved for the next several minutes; we still were sprawled on the floor, still trying to grasp what had just happened. Apparently, our failure to do anything was rather concerning to the third party still in the cellar with us.

"Are you two quite alright?" a familiar voice asked.

We looked up to see Ffinch, looking like a transparent version of his living self.

"I believe we are," the Doctor said, as we got to our feet. "Thanks in part to you."

"It was the very least I could do after how I had treated the both of you during our first encounter," Ffinch said. "I've had a lot of time to think about what I'd done in life, and you were right, McCrimmon—even in the midst of war, a man's life should hardly be considered as an unimportant thing. After so casually dismissing your friend's death, I am quite surprised that you were willing to help me at all."

"I was asking myself why I was so willing t' help ye," I admitted. "I later realized that Alexander died because he tried t' save me and the others from ye—just like ye died t' save me from that angel statue."

"I'm not entirely sure why I did that, to be honest," Ffinch said, with a wan smile. "And I also apologize for what I said about you not belonging in Scotland."

"It's fine…" I said, with a quiet sigh. "I was angry at the time, but… I realized later that ye were right. I don' belong there. After the things I've seen and the places I've been… I know there's more oot there fer me to see."

"I'm sure that if I'd seen them, too, I wouldn't have been too quick to return home, as well," Ffinch admitted.

"Besides that," I said, nodding towards the Doctor. "This daft old man wouldnae last long withoot me."

The Doctor nudged me in the ribs now.

"Judging by how he was panicking after you had vanished, I'd believe it," Ffinch said, wryly.

"Ohhh!" the Doctor fumed. "Don't you have somewhere to go, Ffinch!?"

"I do now; thank you again—both of you." He paused. "I know it's inadequate, and I wish that there was more that I could do…"

"Ye saved me," I said. "That's enough."

Ffinch nodded in understanding, and with a final look back at both of us, floated off, phasing through the ceiling.

"Where do they go, Doctor?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

"The spirits. If they leave this world, where do they go?"

"Well… I'm not sure," the Doctor admitted. "I expect that, someday, we shall both find out. And I'd rather not think of that right now. Come on, then—back to the TARDIS."

The two of us headed back upstairs. We could see the spirits leaving the house in large numbers; some of them stopped to thank us before leaving—one of whom I recognized as the face in the wall. In the end, some of them stayed, deciding that they ended up liking it here, now that they could come and go as they pleased. The Doctor beseeched them not to probe people's minds for memories, which they agreed not to do.

And, at last, the Doctor and I bid farewell to the Home by the Sea, returning to our office.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked me.

"Hungry," I said, as my stomach started to let me know just how long I had gone without food.

"Well, you're feeling better, then," the Doctor smiled, bringing out the food that Lotte had given us.

"I'm also a little confused," I admitted, through a mouthful of food as we began to eat.

"About what?"

"…I was upset with Ffinch for killing Alexander. But I still wanted t' help him," I said. "But I'm still angry…"

"Anger is a perfectly valid emotion, Jamie," the Doctor said. "And it's also admirable that you put that anger aside to help him, in spite of everything. You could have abandoned him to that horrible fate."

"The thought did cross my mind," I admitted, quietly.

"But you didn't act on that thought," the Doctor reminded me. "In fact, I was ready to give you a long rest before we even considered going back, but you were the one who insisted on going to help him."

"If we had gone through this just after Culloden, I wouldnae have helped him; I'd have left him in there," I said, sighing.

"Now, Jamie… You cannot judge yourself on who you were—only on who you _are_. Five years ago, you were a different person. You were a war child fresh off of the battlefield, who couldn't read or write, and who probably didn't believe in life beyond Earth. And look at you now."

"Did I e'er apologize for pulling a knife on ye that day we first met?" I asked.

"No need to," the Doctor said, ruffling my hair. "I've done things that I'm not proud of now. But I changed. And so did you. We're a lot alike, you and I. …Don't scoff like that—it's quite true!"

"I think ye're a wee bit confused," I said.

"Well, besides the obvious differences," the Doctor said, waving a hand in dismissal. "We both left our homes for something better. I could never have gone along with the Gallifreyans' nonintervention policy; and you could never have joined the British Army. So, here we are—a family of two cosmic misfits, gallivanting through time and space. We've both changed quite a lot through our travels, as well—for the better, if I may be so bold to state it."

I chuckled, and then sighed.

"There is one mystery we didnae solve," I said. "We ne'er found out who this Mrs. Williams was—the one who hired us last time, and referred us to Lotte this time."

"Yes, well… She hid her identity from us because she is obviously from my future, and I'm not supposed to know her yet," the Doctor said. "And I think it's best if we don't attempt to figure out who she is."

"Are ye nae the least bit curious?" I asked.

"Oh, immensely. But not enough to risk another paradox; the last thing we need is another temporal disturbance popping up under that house—or another house."

"Aye, I'll give ye that…" I said, shuddering.

"Anyway," the Doctor said. "I'm glad to see that there are no more ghosts haunting you for the moment."

I continued to eat for a moment before pausing.

"What aboot ye?"

"Hmm?"

"Do ye have any ghosts haunting ye?"

"A few," the Doctor admitted. "Five hundred years is a long time; you don't live that long without picking up a few ghosts. Ghosts usually stay away, but sometimes they do come back."

"What do ye do when they do come back to haunt ye?" I asked.

"I have a nice, long talk with a fellow cosmic misfit who is very dear to me," he said, without missing a beat.

"Aye, Doctor," I said, conceding. "We willnae fight our ghosts alone e'er again."

And we continued feasting on the food we had been given, looking out the window and watching the busy city, eager for our next adventure.

**The End**


End file.

Doctor Who, Drama, Suspense