How are we looking?
Oh, about ready, I think.
Any thoughts
on the interference?
A stray FM broadcast, possibly.
But I've -- some ferrite suppressors
and some RF chokes, just in case.
Are you sure you want to go through with this?
I mean, the last time, it was very --
But she's so lonely.
Excellent,
then,
excellent.
Caliburn House, night 4,
November 25, 1974,
11:04 pm.
I'm talking to the spirit
that inhabits this house.
Are you there?
Can you hear me?
I'm speaking to the lost soul
that abides in this place.
Come to me.
Speak to me.
Let me show you the way home.
Ooh!
Let me show you the way home!
Aaaah!
Ah!
Emma!
She's so...
So what?
Dead.
Boo!
Ha ha! Hello. I'm looking for a ghost.
And you are?
Ghostbusters.
I'm the Doctor. Doctor what?
If you like. And this is Clara.
Oh, you are very decadent! Ha.
You are Major Alec Palmer, member of
the Baker Street Irregulars,
the Ministry of Ungentlemanly warfare,
specialized in espionage, sabotage,
and reconnaissance behind enemy lines.
You're a talented watercolorist,
professor of psychology, and...
ghost hunter.
Total pleasure.
Massive.
Actually, you're wrong.
Prof Palmer spent most of the war as a P.O.W.
Actually, that's a lie told by a very brave man
involved in very secret operations.
The type of man who keeps a Victoria Cross
in a box in the attic, eh?
But you know that, because you're Emma Grayling.
The Professor's companion.
Assistant.
It's 1974. You're the assistant
and "nonobjective equipment",
meaning "psychic."
Getting that. Bless you, though.
Relax, Emma. He's Military Intelligence.
So, what is all this in aid of?
Health and safety. Yeah.
The Ministry got wind of what's going on
down here, sent me to check
that everything's in order.
They don't have the right.
Don't worry, Governor, I'll be out of here
in five minutes. Oh! Oh, look!
Oh, lovely. The ACR99821.
Oh, bliss. Nice action on the toggle switches.
You know, I do love
a toggle switch!
Actually, I like the word "toggle".
Nice noun.
Excellent verb.
Oi! Don't mess with the settings.
What's that?
Gadget. Health and Safety. Classified, I'm afraid.
You know, while the backroom boffins
work out a few kinks.
What's it telling you?
It's telling me that you haven't been exposed
to any life threatening transmundane eminations.
So,
where's the ghost, huh?
Show me the ghost.
It's ghost time.
I will not have this
stolen out from under me. Do you understand?
No, not really. Sorry.
I will not have my work stolen
and be fobbed off with a pat on the back
and a letter from the Queen, never again.
This is my house, Doctor, and it belongs to me.
This is actually your house?
It is.
Sorry, you went to the bank
and said, "you know that gigantic,
old, haunted house on the moors?
The one the dossers are too scared to doss in,
the one the birds are too scared to fly over"
and then you said, "I'd like to buy it,
please, with my money"?
Yes, I did, actually.
That's incredibly brave.
Listen, Major,
we just need to know what's going on here.
For the Ministry?
You know I can't answer that.
Very well.
Follow me.
So what's an "empathic psychic"?
Sometimes I sense feelings,
the way a telepath can sense thoughts.
Sometimes, though, not always.
The most compassionate people
you will ever meet, empathics.
And the loneliest.
I mean, exposing themselves
to all those hidden feelings,
all that guilt,
pain, and sorrow and --
Doctor. Yes?
Shh.
Would you care to have a look?
Caliburn House
is over 400 years old,
but she has been around much longer --
the Caliburn Ghast.
She's mentioned
in local Saxon poetry and Parish folktales --
the wraith of the lady,
the Maiden in the Dark,
the Witch of the Well.
Is she real?
As in actually real.
Oh, she's real.
In the 17th century, a local clergyman saw her.
He wrote that her presence
was accompanied by a dreadful knocking,
as if the Devil himself demanded entry.
During the war,
American airmen stationed here
left offerings of tinned Spam.
The tins were found in 1965,
bricked up in the servants' pantry,
along with a number of handwritten notes,
appeals to the Ghast --
"for the love of God,
stop screaming."
Aaaaah!
She never changes.
The angle's different, the framing, but she's
always in exactly the same position.
Why is that? We don't know.
She's an objective phenomenon,
but objective
recording equipment can't detect her.
Without the presence of a powerful psychic.
Absolutely.
Very well done.
Hel-l-l-p!
She knows I'm here.
I can feel her,
calling out to me.
What's she saying?
Help me. "Help me."
Help me-e-e!
The Witch of the Well.
So where's the well?
A copy of the oldest plan that we could find.
There is no well on the property.
I mean, none that we could find, anyway.
Are you coming?
Where? To find the ghost.
Why would I want to do that?
Because you want to. Come on.
Well, I dispute that assertion!
Eh?
Jumping at shadows.
I'm giving you a face.
Yeah?
Can you see me? Look at my face.
Fine!
Dare me.
I dare you.
No takesy- backsies?
Hmm.
The Music Room is the heart of the house.
Say we actually find her.
What do we say?
We ask her how she came to be
whatever she is.
Why?
Because I don't know and ignorance is...
What's the opposite of bliss?
Carlisle.
Yes! Yes, Carlisle.
Ignorance is Carlisle.
Is he really from the Ministry?
Uh, I don't know.
He's certainly got the right demeanor --
capricious, brilliant, heh.
Deceitful.
Yes.
He's a liar.
But, you know,
that's often the way that it is
when someone's seen a thing or two.
Experience makes liars of us all.
We lie about who we are,
about what we've done...
And how we feel.
Yes.
Always.
Always that.
You know, I have to, um, I have to be
getting on with things, the, um,
the equipment, and so forth.
Of course.
Ah, the Music Room,
the heart of the house.
Do you feel anything?
No.
Your pants are so on fire.
Do you feel like you're being watched?
What does being watched feel like?
Is it that funny, tickly feeling
on the back of your neck?
That's the chap.
Then, yes, a bit. Well,
quite a big bit.
I think she's here.
Cold spot.
Spooky.
Cold.
Warm.
Cold. Warm. Cold.
Cold. Warm.
Cold.
Doctor.
Doctor! What?
I'm not happy.
No.
Eh!
Ohh.
What was that?
Does it seem colder?
She's coming.
Okay, what is that?
It's, uh -- it -- it's a very loud noise.
It's a very loud,
very angry noise.
Who's making it? I don't know. Are you making it?
Doctor.
Yes?
I may be a teeny, tiny bit terrified --
Yes?
But I'm still a grownup.
Ha, mainly, yes, and?
There's no need to actually hold my hand.
Clara.
Yeah?
I'm not holding your hand.
Aah!
Aaaaaaah! Aah!
Aaah!
Whoa!
Has this happened before?
Never.
Camera. Camera!
Help me-e-e!
Help!
Me-e-e!
Help! Me-e-e!
Doctor!
Aaaaaaaaaah!
Help me-e-e!
Doctor.
Oh!
I'd rather have a nice cup of tea.
Me too.
Whiskey is
the 11th-most disgusting drink ever invented.
I had a little peek at your records,
back at the Ministry.
Well, you've certainly seen a thing or two,
in your time -- disrupting
U-Boat operations across the North Sea,
sabotaging railway lines across Europe,
Operation Gibbon, the one with
the carrier pigeons -- brilliant.
I do love a carrier pigeon.
I did my duty,
but, then, so did thousands of others.
Millions
of others.
I was just lucky enough to come back.
Yes, but, how does that man, that war hero,
end up here, in a lonely old house,
looking for ghosts?
Because I killed.
And I caused to have killed.
I sent
young men and women to their deaths,
but here I am, still alive,
and, well, it does tend to haunt you,
living, after so much
of the other thing.
So, you and Professor Palmer,
you ever...
You know?
No.
Why not?
You do know how he feels
about you, don't you? You, of all people.
I don't know.
People like me,
sometimes we get our signals mixed up.
We think people are feeling
the way we want them to feel,
you know, when they're special to us,
when, really,
there's nothing there.
Oh, this is there.
How do you know?
Because it's obvious.
It sticks out
like a big chin.
You see, I was alone and unmarried
and, you know, I didn't mind dying.
I mean, not for that cause.
It was a very, very fine cause,
defeating the enemy.
And if you could contact them,
what would you say?
Well, I'd very much like to thank them.
Ah.
Ping.
What do you think she is?
Not what I thought she'd be.
What did you think she'd be?
Fun.
Can I borrow your camera?
Ta.
What about you and the Doctor?
Oh, I don't think so.
Good.
Sorry?
Don't trust him.
There's a sliver of ice in his heart.
Clara!
I've got this weird feeling
it's looking at me.
It doesn't like me.
The TARDIS is like a cat --
a bit slow to trust,
but you'll get there in the end.
Hey.
You need a place to keep this.
I've got one.
Or I had one.
I think I had one.
Look around. See if you find it.
Did I have one?
Am I going mad?
No! Not in here!
How do you expect her to like you
if she's soaking wet?!
It's a health and safety nightmare.
Sorry.
So,
where are we going?
Nowhere. We're staying right here.
Right here, on this exact spot,
if I can work out how to do it.
So, when are we going?
That is good.
That is top-notch.
And the answer is? We're going always.
"We're going always."
Totally!
That's not actually a sentence.
Well, it's got a verb in it.
What do you think?
Uh, color's a bit boisterous.
I think it brings out my eyes.
Makes my eyes hurt.
Do you -- did you see where he went?
I could hear an engine,
but I can't see any lights.
Back off! Hot suit! Hot hot hot!
When are we?
About 6 billion years ago.
It's a Tuesday. I think.
Hmm?
Back in a mo'.
Are you all right?
Totally. Peachy keen.
Okay, then. Well, don't press any buttons
or pull any levers or make any funny faces.
Actually, don't move. Stand completely still.
Don't breathe.
Well, you can breathe.
But shallow breaths.
Ah. Ah.
What's wrong?
Did the TARDIS say something to you?
Are you being mean?!
No, it's not that. Have we just watched
the entire life cycle of Earth, birth to death?
Yes.
And you're okay with that?
Yes.
How can you be?
The TARDIS.
She's time.
We... Wibbly vortex.
And so on.
That's not what I mean.
Okay. Some help. Context.
Cheat sheet.
Something?
I mean, one minute, you're in 1974,
looking for ghosts, but all you have to do is
open your eyes and talk
to whoever's standing there.
To you, I haven't been born yet
and to you, I've been dead
a hundred billion years.
Is my body out there, somewhere,
in the ground?
Yes,
I suppose it is.
But here we are, talking,
so I am a ghost.
To you, I'm a ghost.
We're all ghosts to you.
We must be nothing.
No. No.
You're not that.
Then what are we?
What can we possibly be?
You are the only mystery
worth solving.
What's wrong?
I just saw something I wish I hadn't.
What did you see?
That everything ends.
No, not everything.
Not love.
Not always.
Right, done!
That's it. Gather round, gather round,
roll up, roll up.
The Ghast of Caliburn House,
never changing, trapped in a moment
of fear and torment.
But what if she's no
what if she's
just trapped somewhere time runs more slowly
than it does here?
What if a second to her was 100,000 years to us
and what if somebody has a magic box?
A blue box, probably.
What if said somebody could take a snapshot
of her, say, every few million years?
She's not a ghost.
But she's definitely a lost soul.
Her name is Hila Tacorian.
She's a pioneer, a time traveler --
or, at least, she will be, in a few hundred years.
Time travel's not possible. The paradoxes...
Resolve themselves, by and large.
How long has she been alone?
Well, time travel's a funny old thing.
I mean, from her perspective,
she crash landed, well... 3 minutes ago.
Crash landed?
Where?
She's in a pocket universe,
a distorted echo of our own.
They happen sometimes, but never last for long.
Our universe.
Hila Tacorian's here
in a pocket universe.
You're a lantern,
shining across the dimensions,
guiding her home, back to the land
of the living.
But what's she running from?
Well, that's the best bit.
We don't know, yet. Shall we see?
Oh.
What is that?
I don't know.
Still, not to worry.
So what do we do?
Not "we", you.
You save Hila Tacorian,
because you are Emma Grayling.
You are a lantern. The rest of us
are just along for the ride, I'm afraid.
We need some sturdy rope
and a blue crystal from Metebelis 3,
plus, some Kendal Mint Cake.
Don't do it.
I'm sorry?
Nobody asked her to risk her life.
This woman,
she doesn't deserve --
who-whoever she is,
however brilliant, however brave,
she's not you, she's not worth risking
a single hair on your head, not to me!
Tell me what I'm thinking.
I can't.
I don't have your gift.
You don't need it.
Just look at me and tell me.
There you are.
You read my mind.
Can't you just, you know --
What?!
Fly the TARDIS into a parallel universe?
Ah, it's not a parallel universe,
it's a pocket universe.
Plus, it is collapsing.
I mean, the TARDIS
could get in there all right,
but entropy would bleed
her power sources, you see,
trap her there until the entire universe decayed
back into the quantum foam,
which would take about 3 minutes,
give or take, you know.
What is that?
Subset of the Eye of Harmony.
I don't -- Of course you don't.
Be weird if you did. I'd better do it myself.
Right, you, sit down.
All the way
from Metebelis 3.
What does it do?
It amplifies your natural abilities,
like a microphone or a pooper scooper.
What, exactly, is this arrangement?
A psychochronograph.
Forgive me, but isn't it all
a little bit, well, "make do and mend"?
Nonpsychic technology won't work where I'm going.
Listen -- all I need to do is dive into another dimension,
find the time traveler, help her escape the monster,
get home before the entire dimension collapses,
and Bob's your uncle.
Doctor, will it hurt?
No.
Well,
yes, probably, a bit. Well, quite a lot.
I don't know. It might be agony.
To be perfectly honest, I'll be interested to find out.
I'm talking to the lost soul
that abides in this place.
I'm speaking to Hila Tacorian.
Huh-ah!
You see?!
The Witch of the Well!
It's a wormhole, a reality whirl!
A door to the echo universe!
Ready?!
Ready!
Geronimo.
Whoa-oa-oa-oa!
Aaaaah!
Aaaaaaaaah!
Doctor!
Aaah-ah!
Hila!
Hila Tacorian!
One.
Two.
Three!
Help me-e-e!
Hel-l-l-p!
Aah! Hila Tacorian, I presume. Who are you?
Collapsing universe. You and me, dead,
2 minutes, no time, complete sentences,
abandon planet. Wait!
There's something in the mist.
Then run.
Run!
Doctor!
Doctor, come home!
Okay. Not that way, which means,
uh, probably --
What's wrong?
You know that exit I mentioned?
Yes.
I seem to have misplaced it.
Doctor!
This way.
Doctor-or-or!
Come home!
Doctor, we're here!
Whoa! What's that?
An echo house in an echo universe.
Clever, psychic.
That is just top-notch.
Doctor!
It's looking for a way in.
I'm not strong enough!
Just a few more seconds!
Aaaah! Aaaaaah!
Grab the rope,
give it three tugs, quick as you like!
What about you?!
I'll be next!
Oh! That's what that noise was. Lovely.
No!
Ah!
Oh, dear.
?
Where are you?
?
Ooh!
?
Wake up.
Wake up! Open the thing!
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry. Don't be. What you did...
Wasn't enough. She needs to do it again. She can't. Look at her!
She has to!
?
We can't leave him!
?
I know that you feel
that you can't do this, Emma, but,
look at that woman over there.
You saved her.
?
She's only here because of your strength.
And so am I.
?
Oh, come on!
?
Let me in, you grumpy old cow!
?
Whoa.
Emma, I was as lost as her.
But being with you,
you gave me a reason to be, Emma.
You brought me back from the dead.
?
What's this, now?
The TARDIS voice- visual interface.
I'm programmed to select
the image of a person you esteem.
Of several billion such images in my databanks,
this one best meets the criterion.
Oh! Oh, you are a cow! I knew it!
Whatever. You have to help the Doctor.
The Doctor is in the pocket universe.
You can enter the pocket universe.
The entropy would drain the energy from my heart.
In 4 seconds, I'd be stranded.
In 10, I'd be dead.
You're talking, but all I can hear is
"meh meh meh meh meh!" Come on, let's go!
Hey hey hey!
Doctor.
Can you hear me?
Doctor.
Oh, come on!
Doctor!
Can you hear me?
Aah!
Whoa-oa!
Doc-Tor!
Doctor, we're here!
Come home!
Emma!
What do you want?
To frighten me, I suppose, hey?
Because that's what you do.
You hide.
You're the bogeyman under the bed,
seeking whom you may devour.
Aah!
Ah!
You want me to be afraid?
Then well done.
I am the Doctor
and I am afraid.
Aaaaah!
Aaah! Aah!
Doctor!
Hurry-y-y!
So why am I still here, huh?
Why not just
eat me?
Huh?
Come on...
Because you still need me.
Yeah, you need me to piggyback you across.
Ah.
To which I say
come on, then, big boy,
chase me.
Ah!
Whoa! Aah!
Ha ha!
Whoo-hoo!
Aah!
No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!
Aaah!
Whew.
It's over.
You wanted a word?
Well, if that's...
That's fine.
You didn't come here for the ghost, did you?
No.
You came here for me. Yes.
Why? I needed to ask you something.
Then ask. Clara.
Yes?
What is she?
She's a girl.
Yes, but what kind of girl, specifically?
She's a perfectly ordinary girl.
Very pretty.
Mm-hmm.
Very clever.
Mm-hmm.
More scared than she lets on.
And that's it, is it?
Why, is that not enough?
Ohh!
Where will you go?
He can't take me home.
History says I went missing.
But he can change history.
No! No no, I can't, actually.
There are fixed points in time, you see.
Ahem! Hi. What?
I knew you were there.
I could feel you.
I know.
Have we...?
We can't have.
You haven't even been born yet.
No, you can't have met, but she can be
your great-great-great- great-great-granddaughter, eh?
Yours, too, of course.
But you guessed that already, didn't you?
Oh.
Apparently not.
The paradoxes...
Resolve themselves, by and large.
That's why the psychic link was so powerful --
blood calling to blood.
Out of time. Not everything ends, eh?
Not love! Not always!
Doctor, what about, um, ahem.
What about us, Emma and me?
What about you?
Well, what's supposed to happen?
I mean, what do we do now?
Hold hands.
That's what you're meant to do.
Keep doing that and don't let go.
That's the secret.
Doctor!
I'm not happy.
Yeah, you need me to piggyback you across.
I'm not holding your hand.
Oh, I'm so slow!
I am slow. I'm notorious for it.
That's always been my problem. But -- but --
I get there, in the end. Oh, yes.
Doctor? How do sharks make babies?
Carefully.
No. No no no no. Happily.
Sharks don't actually smile. They're just --
well, they've got lots and lots of teeth. They're quite meaty.
Exactly, but "birds do it, bees do it,
even educated fleas do it".
Every lonely monster
needs a companion.
There's two of them?!
You know, it's the oldest story in the universe --
this one, or any other. Boy and girl fall in love,
get separated by events --
war, politics, accidents in time --
she's thrown out of the hex
or he's thrown into it.
Since then. They've been yearning for each other
across time and space, across dimensions.
This isn't a ghost story,
it's a love story.
Sorry.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
Sorry to interrupt the rest of your life.
So, tiny favor to ask.
I'm sorry!
I understand now!
I can take you to her!
I can take you to a safe place,
far away from here!
You can be together!
Huh? Well, come on, then,
she's waiting!
Well.
Hello again, you old Romeo, you.
Now --
Here she comes.
Ha ha ha! Whoo!
Ahhhhhhh!
Whoo!
Get ready to jump.
Running away with a spaceman in a box --
anything could happen to you.
It's good salvage. I can smell it.
Clara. Where is she?
She's still onboard.
If you help me get her out, you get the machine,
the salvage of a lifetime.
Multiple life forms onboard the TARDIS.
What do you keep in here?!
What are you, eh, a trick, a trap?!
We do what we came for -- tear the ship apart.
If we're going to die here, you're going to tell me
what they are! I can't.
Where are we going? The centre of the TARDIS.