Charley hides, hides in the corridors and the dusty rooms. She ducks behind empty boxes and crouches under tables. The evil Something stalks her through subjective night and day, calls her name, taunting.
“You can’t hide forever, Charley…”
This, she knows, is true. But the bruise on her face is already fading, days have passed. Her best friend is out to kill her. And it’s all her fault.
She thinks the ship is dying, or grieving at the very least. The lights have dimmed, and she’s sure that the dust has been summoned up in a mechanical fit of anger and loss. “You loved him,” she says, and places her hand against the wall with something like tenderness.
The past tense is unconscious, but it seems appropriate. The Doctor was by his nature kind and compassionate, the antithesis of evil. He stopped being the Doctor and became something else. Something darker.
She leans against the wall, taking from it an illusion of strength and safety. Will he kill her first, or leave his former friends until last? Charley imagines that Zagreus could be very, very good at psychological torture. What scares her most, however, is her own faith in him. The Doctor was unstoppable; will this new demonic foe retain that gift?
The original prophesy of Zagreus was faked, but the Doctor always had a knack for the impossible and unlikely. There is no doubt in Charley’s mind that he could end everything.
She slides down the wall and hugs her knees against her chest. The ship is growing colder, and she shivers, trembles.
This is her happy ending.