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Their base could have been a vault. Maybe it was, before. Once smooth walls had been attacked by rust and no matter how many lamps they lit, the dimness and shadows persisted.
Lucie closed her eyes. On a good night, the constellations burned brightly above her, memories clear enough to conjure them. Clear enough to conjure up that rattling wheezing breath of the TARDIS. Clear enough to fill her with a touch of hope.
She was one of the lucky ones to survive the plague. You're one in a million, they said. When the pain in her legs flared, when they heard about more deaths, a voice would remind her that the plague should have killed her and she would be better off that way.
But she could never leave Alex and Susan alone. They would all stop the Daleks, and then Lucie would continue travelling with her Doctor.
Forever.