Anji could feel herself floating. Reality swam around her, swirling in the darkness. Her entire body seemed to be weightless, suspended from the effects of gravity. Where am I? She couldn't seem to remember anything. She knew her own name, the telephone number at her flat, the face of the man who sold the Evening Standard outside her office building every weekday afternoon. But she couldn't seem to remember how she'd got here - or even where here was.
Perhaps it was a sensory deprivation tank. Anji remembered Dave persuading her to skive off work for a day because he had something special planned. He wanted to re-enact some 1980s brat-pack film, but events relocated from Chicago to London. They visited the Tate Gallery, walked along the Embankment eating ice creams, had lunch at the Oxo Tower Brasserie on the South Bank and went to a New Age spa near Waterloo for a sensory deprivation session.
Anji had been particularly dubious about the last activity. She thrived on the stress and excitement of her job in the City. Half an hour lying in a box filled with salt water was not her idea of a good time. But Dave had looked so hurt when she refused to take part. Anji realised she was being selfish. He had gone to a lot of trouble arranging everything. She eventually agreed to try the experience, still protesting it wasn't her thing.
She had stepped carefully into the tank and tried hard to relax, letting the saline solution support her. Once the lid was closed, darkness was absolute. Mellow New Age music was piped into the tank, all gently clinking chimes and breathy voices sighing. If I hear one note of Enya, I am out of here, Anji thought to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of stress.
She had drifted off, forgetting herself or her own existence. It was startling when she realised the music had stopped. How long had she been unaware? Was this what it was like being dead - eternally afloat in darkness, entombed inside a black box, never to see the light again?
The thought of being buried alive had sent a shiver down Anji's spine. She could feel panic welling up within. Got to get out. Got to get out! She tried to sit up suddenly, but the heavy solution around her compensated, sucking her torso downwards. Anji started thrashing around, banging her arms against the sides of the tank, crying out for help.
After what seemed like forever, the lid had been lifted back to reveal Dave's concerned face. He helped her clamber out and did his best to soothe her. She took a shower to remove excess salt and changed back into her clothes, still shivering at the memory of being trapped in the darkness. The incident had cast a pall over the rest of the day. Anji's mood was not helped when Dave admitted he had chosen the sensory deprivation tanks as a way of replicating what it would be like to float in outer space, one of his many obsessions. He got a punch in the arm for that.
Dave was dead now, of course. Anji knew that as soon as she thought of him, but she refused to stop remembering her lover. That would be denying their time together. Anji was determined that wouldn't happen.
All these thoughts and feelings and memories wandered through her mind before Anji realised she must be asleep. She was in that strange interregnum between dreaming and waking, on the edge of both states but still capable of embracing either one. She chose to wake up. Her body jerked in response as it forgot how to be weightless.
Anji opened her eyes but could see only darkness. A great weight was holding her immobile. She could shift one hand and her left leg slightly, but that triggered movement above her. Rocks crashed down against rock, showering her face with dust. She was entombed in the darkness, helpless, trapped. And this time she knew Dave would not be coming to lift open the lid and rescue her. She was buried alive.
Calm down, Anji told herself. It was all she could do to stop from screaming. Anji didn't think of herself as prone to petty phobias. She was a strong, independent woman who could fend for herself in almost any situation. But this wasn't just any situation.
Deep breaths, try taking deep breaths. She was aware of a heavy stone pressing against her ribs, constricting her breathing. That could become a problem if she was trapped here for long. A vague memory from some first aid course stirred, something about shallow breathing having dangerous side effects. Not as dangerous as being buried alive beneath tonnes of rubble, Anji thought. That probably edged shallow breathing in the not good for you stakes.
Anji tried to remember how she had come to be in this position. She could recall arguing with someone and Fitz leaving and then -
The Doctor. The TARDIS. Edinburgh. It all came thudding back, a sprawl of memory and realisation. Anji gave herself a moment to let everything settle into place before reviewing the data. She almost smiled - reviewing the data. That's what she used to do for a living. Analyse data, predict trends, trade in what the future might bring. That was the life she had been trying to get back to when the day began...
Anji had been first to emerge from the Police Public Call Box, its usually incongruous markings for once blending into the surroundings. They had materialised in front of the Assembly Rooms, a sturdy stone building in Edinburgh's New Town area. Anji thought the name wonderfully incongruous for a place more than two hundred years old. In the Scottish capital, that sort of age was commonplace for buildings. The centre of Edinburgh was crowded with similar structures, stately constructions of weathered stone.
Fitz was next out of the TARDIS, clad in his usual shabby garb. He was a man who could crumple any clothing just by looking at. Let him wear it and all the technology on the planet could not put a crease back into the garment. Anji thought of suggesting Fitz wear linen suits, so his natural louche-ness found a fabric that crumpling might enhance for once. But April in Edinburgh was not the place to adopt a lighter wardrobe. It might be Spring, but the cool air still bit at the back of the throat.
Last to emerge was the Doctor. He locked the tall blue box and surveyed their surroundings. His eye was caught by the George Street Tearooms, which stood across the road from the TARDIS. 'That looks like the perfect meeting place. Shall I meet you in there at midday, Fitz?'
The younger man shrugged and nodded, hands jammed into his trouser pockets. Anji remembered him staring unhappily at her. 'Are you sure you want to leave? I mean, here? Now?'
'For the last time, yes,' Anji had replied. 'We've landed in Edinburgh instead of London, but it's close enough. I want to go home, Fitz. I've had enough. I've seen enough. I just want to get back to reality, back to my own life.'
'But how do you know this is your reality?' Fitz protested. 'I mean, just because the TARDIS says this is your time and your world, that doesn't guarantee it's safe, does it? Doctor - can't you talk to her? Doctor?'
But the Doctor hadn't replied. He was leaning back against the TARDIS, panting for breath as if he had just run up several flights of stairs. His face was ashen, all colour drained from the features. One hand was pressed against his chest, fingers splayed over the rich fabric of his waistcoat. 'I'm sorry, I - I just felt a little dizzy. Just need to - to catch my - my breath.'
No! Something's wrong!
The Doctor's dizzy spell had worried Anji. His health had been an issue for some time but he recently declared himself restored to full fitness. What had triggered this sudden faintness? 'Look, Doctor, if you need me to stay...'
'No,' he replied, sadness in his voice. 'I'll be alright. Just a flutter of the hearts, I expected. These things take time to settle in.' He stood up straight, his face alive with its usual curiosity again. 'What do you plan to do?'
'An old colleague of mine, Mitch, got head-hunted for a job up here. I thought I might look him up, surprise him. After that I guess I'll get a flight down to London, see if my job's still open.'
The Doctor nodded. 'Look after yourself, Anji. It may take a while to adjust to life in one place and one time, but if anyone can do that, you can.' He bounded forwards and gave her a sudden hug. 'Don't forget us!'
'As if I could!' she replied, touched by his words. The Doctor stepped back, allowing Fitz to say his goodbyes.
'Sure there's nothing you need from the TARDIS?' he asked.
'I'm sure.'
'Right,' Fitz replied. He was started to sniff a lot and his eyes seemed to be filling with tears. 'Well, err, look after yourself.' He lurched awkwardly towards her then stopped, unsure of himself.
Finally, Anji stepped forward and gave him a hug. 'Look after the Doctor,' she whispered in his ear. 'He needs somebody watching out for him.'
'I will,' Fitz replied huskily.
She stepped back again. 'Well, goodbye. If you're ever back in the early twenty-first century...'
'We'll pop in for tea,' the Doctor replied.
Anji nodded, swivelled on her heels and began walking away. I'll never see them again, she had thought to herself sadly.
