"They could have been replaced as well," Jacques said grimly. He waved the folder at Sherlock. "Rose was—?"
Jacques took a deep breath. “What happened to her? The replacement?”
The consulting Sue Slayer blinked at him. “We did.”
"Yes, but you don’t just—"
Dawn staggered, and grabbed the Blacksmith’s arm for balance.
"It’s fine!" Jacques said loudly. "Seriously. Who figured out she was a replacement?"
Dawn decided a chair might be the best option, and started to stumble towards one.
"…couldn’t kill her…brought her to us…"
The chair was too far away, the Assassin decided. Better to try for the counter. If nothing else, she could lean on it.
"…traveling without her now—"
The counter was blurred. Actually, everything was blurred. Had her contacts stopped working?
Dawn reached up carefully and took one out. The other soon followed.
She still felt off-balance, but…nothing was blurred. Not even the details on the buildings that were visible through the window, and those really should have been.
She could see. No contacts, no glasses, and she could see.
"Blimey," she mumbled. "I’m changin’.” She squinched her eyes shut, and then opened them again. The details were still clear. So was everything else.
"Jus’ hope I get to keep my eye color…or that Medical can reverse it…what?"
Jacques seemed rather wary. “You alright over there?”
"Sure!" Dawn grinned at him. She noted vaguely that while it was a grin she occasionally used, it definitely wasn’t meant to be hers. "Just gettin’ my eyes fixed an’ all that."
"My eyes. Fixed. I’m meant to be nearsighted. Didn’t you realize? No, ‘course you di’n’t. S’gone now, though. An’ the memories are still comin’, if that’s your next—" The Assassin stopped mid-sentence, staring at nothing.
"Beige sky over Gallifrey, what in the—" Dawn gave up on staying upright and sat down heavily on the floor. "That’s not an episode! There’s no way!"
"What’s not an episode? Dawn?"
"Dawn!" Jacques shook her shoulder lightly. "Dawn, focus!"
The Assassin looked up. Her blue-green eyes were starting to turn brown at the edges, and there were faint traces of make-up on her face that hadn’t been there minutes before. “I think I’m gettin’ her memories of right before she went with the cabbie, but…it’s weird.”
"It just…it doesn’ make sense. Why would Sues be workin’ with Jefferson Hope?"
Sherlock catalogued the blonde dye starting to work its way up Dawn’s brown braid, and then turned his narrowed eyes towards her face instead. “They must have wanted something from him.”
John frowned. “Like what?”
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