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‘I’ll go first, give you some cover. Grab the nearest vehicle. The nearest. Then just drive. Get out, the pair of you.’

‘Burto‐’

‘Blair. I’m not Burton. Or I am, maybe, when I’m not myself. But I’m myself again. Go when I say.’

Anji glanced between them as the two stared at each other for a long moment. Then Pia nodded, grabbed hold of Anji’s arm with her free hand and rechecked the gun.

Blair dodged out from the inner side of the pillar, aiming his gun at the men opposite. Then Pia was out and running, dragging Anji behind her. Anji sensed rather than heard the gunfire around them, was only dimly aware as her shoulder slammed through the doors and she almost fell down the outer steps.

There were shouts in the yard, Pia took a random shot towards the gate, making the men there duck back into cover, or start to run towards them. The two women tumbled into cover behind the nearest car. Anji gasped as she slammed into the metal body, then glanced back at the main doors. All it would take was one guy on those steps...

Pia tried the car door, pulled it open. She shoved Anji towards it. Anji clambered in, trying to keep as low as possible. She started to laugh when she saw that the keys were in the ignition. Even as she heard more bullets from the gatehouse, she smirked: these really were more innocent times. Then she was climbing into the back, getting down into the foot-well. Pia was suddenly in the driver’s seat, bending low, gripping the wheel with her gun hand as she turned the ignition over.

There was a thump from the doors and Blair ran through, taking the steps fast with his long legs. He dove for the car, slamming the door behind him. Pia was letting in the clutch. Anji stayed down, jolting and pitching into the seat behind her. There was a hideous crunching sound and Blair was grabbing at his throat, the blood spilling through his fingers. The car slammed through the half-open gates, splattering the free-flowing blood back on to Anji. Blair started to shudder in the passenger seat.

‘Anji, get up here and stop the damn bleeding!’

Anji raised her head and glanced briefly at Blair. She stripped off her grubby silk blouse, bundled it into a pad and forced Blair to let her hold it hard against his neck. The neck, that was probably a fatal wound. She shivered, only partially from the cool air. Her camisole was almost no protection.

‘He needs hospital treatment, Pia.’

‘I’ll think of something.’ The Italian’s face was set as she drove through the streets. ‘You know anywhere safe?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Blair slumped over, losing consciousness from the shock, Anji hoped, and not from blood loss. She tightened her grip on the sodden silk, holding it close and offering up a brief prayer to any gods who might be listening.

‘Pia, why –’

‘Sooner or later, Anji, you have to take sides. And I just realised I was on the wrong one.’

* * *

Fitz woke slowly, reluctantly. There was a rough blanket under him, and dim sunlight through battered blinds. His hand hurt, hurt more when he experimentally flexed it. He winced, worrying about the tendons. He sat up gingerly, expecting pain. He felt better than he had expected. The hand had been re-bandaged with fresh strips of cotton. Then he remembered. He’d been at the TARDIS, something about the emergency phone, some urgent mission from the Doctor. And then...

‘Sasha?’

He took in the room. It was large, had several cots set up on which people were lying. The guy next to him groaned in his sleep. Fitz stood, still taking care, not quite believing the lack of headache. His shoulder did feel stiff, but otherwise he was relatively pain free. He thought he recognised one of the men in the cots: hadn’t he been in the POUM building the night the fighting started? OK, so either he was back with the POUM, or he was back in that bloody compound. He moved towards the door, holding his shoulder and rolling it a couple of times to loosen the stiffness. That was ten whole steps without anyone leaping on him, or trying to start a fight