"Jennifer?" Doctor Finch said, gently. She had been staring off out the window, but she turned when he spoke. "Jennifer, do you know why you're here?"

She laughed. "How could I forget?" she said. "God, I hope this place isn't like mental hospitals usually are in the old movies."

"Movies?" Doctor Finch frowned. "You mean, moving pictures?"

She covered her face in her hands. "Oh, god. What year is this? Do you call them 'talkies' or something? Do they even have sound yet?"

Doctor Finch made his voice low, calming. "It's 1919, Jennifer. You are in the city of San Diego, in the state of California, at the Blackthorne Rest Hospital. We're here to help you."

She laughed again. "1919. Do you really want to know why I'm here?" she asked him. There was a curious edge to the question that he found unnerving.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" he suggested. It was best to know what sort of delusions he was dealing with.

"Jesus," she swore, "Where do I start?" She looked thoughtful for a moment. "It started with these two guys," she finally said, firmly.

"Two men?" Finch asked. "What sort of men?"

"Men in coats," she answered. "I'm an engineer," she said, almost defiantly. Finch had heard that women engineers existed, but it was an odd sort of occupation for a member of the fairer sex. It occurred to him that perhaps it was the stress of doing a man's job that had unbalanced her mind. Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "I was working at a construction site when these two men showed up, babbling about angels, and how we needed to evacuate the site. I thought they were religious nuts. You know- end-of-days types."

"Nobody move," the British guy said. "Nobody blink. They're awake."

The American guy looked around nervously. "You," he said, pointing at her. "Can you get everyone on the site together in one place? Tell them to be careful."

"They weren't?" Finch asked.

She shook her head. "They were right. The men in the construction crew started to disappear," she said. "Like, they were there one moment and then I turned my back and they were gone."

"Where did he go?" she shouted, hitting his chest with her balled fists. It was juvenile, but she didn't care. Alex was gone, and she had a terrible suspicion he wasn't coming back.

"It's okay," Jack said, putting his arms around her. "We have a time machine. We can bring everyone back afterwards- we just have to get away now. Trap them, somehow.

"And keep them from getting into the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "I've got a plan."

"Disappear?" Finch asked, frowning. "They left the work site?"

"It was the angels," she said. Religious delusion, Finch thought. "The statues. They'd just been delivered. I was supposed to oversee their installation, but... they weren't statues after all."

"What were they?" Finch asked.

"What are they?" she asked, almost screaming the words. They'd moved. When she wasn't looking, they'd moved. Statues didn't move. Alex came to her side, looking nervously out into the darkness.

"The Weeping Angels," the British guy said. "They call them the Lonely Assassins. They can't move as long as you're looking at them, so don't stop looking. No one blink. We'll figure something out."

"Doctor," the American guy said, running up with some of the stragglers behind him. "There're five more on the other side of the site-"

"With no one watching them now," the Doctor finished. "Jack, they're coming for the TARDIS. It's what woke them up. We can't let them take her."

Jack touched his shoulder. "We won't," he said, his voice tender.

"Monsters," she said. "Killers. They killed me."

"Jennifer," Finch said, gently. "You're not dead."

"I might as well be," she said, bitterly. "I was born in 1975. Do you think I'll even live to see the year I was born?"

Finch wasn't sure how to respond to that. "How were the men associated with the angels?"

"Time loop," the Doctor said. "It's our only chance. If I can get back to the TARDIS, I can use her time generators-"

Jack nodded, squared his shoulders. "We'll clear you a path," he said.

She looked around. Half the men in the crew were gone. Alex was gone. "They're getting stronger," she said.

"They're feeding," the Doctor said. He lifted up the sonic screwdriver, carefully adjusting it without taking his eyes off the angels. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," Jack said.

"I don't know," she said, honestly. "I think they were just passing by, and were trying to help. The angels were going to kill us all. We'd never have had a chance, if they hadn't shown up."

"So, the men helped you?" Finch asked.

"We're going to form a line between us and the TARDIS. Faces out, and if you have to blink, do it one eye at a time. The Doctor will go between us, and we'll be his defensive shield. If one of them gets you, we'll come back for you. We promise. I promise."

"They tried, I guess," she looked uncertain. "But here I am, and it's been over a week. I thought they'd've come for me by now." She started staring out the window again.

Dr. Finch cleared his throat. "Thank you, Jennifer," he said, standing. He'd clearly lost her attention. He'd have to try again later. "We'll talk again soon."

She nodded, still looking out the window.

"Jack!" the Doctor cried, turning back at the threshold of the blue box. Where Jack had been a moment ago, there was only a statue, wings raised, fangs bared. Without thinking, Jennifer turned to the Doctor, transfixed by the fear in his eyes. Then she turned back. There were stone eyes looking down at her, and all she could hear was the sound of wings.

"Maybe they got lost," she said, quietly.

Finch nodded, pleased. It was a start. Hopefully, with a little more time, he could help her confront the trauma that had unraveled the poor girl's mind. He walked out of the room, and went to the nurse's desk. Delusional, he wrote in the chart. Probable trauma. From behind him, he heard a strange groaning, wheezing sound. "Is that the pipes?" he asked the nurse, irritably. "We need to call a plumber."