What's The Story...?
It was over. For another few moments, at least, it was over.
He had raced to where she was as quickly as he could. Throwing open the door, he saw her face illuminate to see him, and without another word they rushed into each other's arms, embracing passionately. He held her close, and she held him back just as tightly. Something dropped from her hand and clattered to the floor. It flopped open as it did so, and a cardboard cat in big black boots stood up rather proudly before their feet trampled it to oblivion.
"I love you," he whispered. "Don't forget that. Even for a minute."
"I don't," she replied, tears spilling down her face. Her accent burred deliciously in his ears, just like always. His heart ached to kiss her again, to not waste another precious second of freedom, but he let her say what she needed to say. "I can't...I don't know how much longer I can take this. How much longer any of us can."
"I know," he admitted. "But we'll find a way. We'll stop this. We'll find them."
"I love you," she told him.
"I wish we'd been together when..." he gestured helplessly. "I got here as quick as I cou..."
He got no further. It was beginning again.
She sank to her knees, all the strength leaving her. Helpless sobs wracked her body. "Not again," she said in a weak voice, "please don't make me...not again-"
He pulled her to her feet, spun her around to face him. Their eyes met.
"Hang in there," he told her, already feeling himself begin to lose control. "I love you, Miss Hoolie."
"I love you, PC Plum," she replied.
The music swelled into life, and suddenly she was back in her green house, wearing a huge smile. She walked out of her front door, waved to nothingness, and set off jauntily for the nursery, screaming, crying, hollering for help silently while her body puppeted itself through its usual motions independent of her control.
"Hello there," she announced to emptiness as she walked into the nursery. "I know you, don't I? What's your name...?"
2
"What do you want to know that for?"
Rose shrugged. "Well it can't be Doctor, can it. It's gotta be something." She grinned suddenly, mischievously, in that way she had. "Is it an embarrassing one? I bet it is. I bet it's Gilbert or Charlton or-"
The Doctor looked up from the TARDIS console in what she assumed was meant to be quite a rebuking way. "I am in charge of a time and space machine," he reminded her, "I could chuck you out any time I felt like it in...oh, the Triassic period. See how you'd survive on coelacanth and chips."
"Ugh," she stuck out her tongue and then, in that other way she had, spun off in a completely new direction on a whim. "You've got me hungry now though. Can we get something?"
"Home?"
He saw the guilt pass over her face and knew what he had to do. "What am I saying," he added quickly, "I think your Mum's seen quite enough of me squatting in her place after Christmas. We'll pop back in a few days. She could use a break after the whole invasion of Earth, big spaceship over London thing, most likely."
"Well, only if you're sure," she said, relief pouring off her.
"I insist," he insisted. "So, where to milady?"
"Ooh I love this," she said, and it was plain to see she did. More than perhaps anyone else who'd shared his adventures, shared a slice of his odd and nomadic existence, she never tired of the thrill of having an entire universe, an entire timeline to choose from. There had been times, over the last few regenerations, when he'd almost forgotten that pure joy to be found in freedom to roam. It had been that joy, after all, that had separated him from the rest of his people. The wanderer. The meddler.
It had been that joy that had saved them from their fate...
"You should have a big map or something in here," she said.
"A map? Of what?"
"Well, you know...the universe."
"Right..." he nodded dubiously. "Memo to Ordnance Survey: more staff required, Rose Tyler fancies chips, urgent survey needed of cosmos."
"Alright, cheeky," she said, throwing her hands up and then folding them defiantly, staring at him, "why don't you choose somewhere for us."
"Glad to," he said, and began working the controls, a process which was half required and half not; as much of the piloting of the TARDIS went on by sheer thought and feeling as by pressing levers, but there was always a certain satisfaction to be gleaned from a good lever press. The Doctor felt for the connection to the Heart of the TARDIS and felt himself slipping into the mental groove required for steering its immense, mysterious energies with time-practised ease.
"Not the future, though," she said. "After the psychotic cat people thing I'm a bit future-d out."
"Uh huh," he said wryly, "you do realise that generally speaking in 2006 terms there's a surprising lack of decent chippies off-Earth."
"Earth it is then," she retorted. "Somewhere quiet. I fancy a bit of a rest. Maybe somewhere in the country."
"Uh huh. But it's my choice, obviously."
"Oh of course. Naturally."
He grinned at her as the materialisation sound wheezed and thrummed around them before fading away. When it had gone, he made a little 'ta-da' body motion and walked to the TARDIS door, throwing it open to reveal a sunny, gloriously green and pleasant landscape. Not a cloud existed in the skies above. A mile or two away, the landscape dove gracefully downward to a magnificent bay, with an azure sea. Seagulls awked in the distance, swooping gently. Sunlight danced on the water.
"Where are we?" Rose said, stepping into the landscape, impressed.
The Doctor was sporting a puzzled frown. "Erm, I'm not entirely sure," he said, "I could have sworn I set the controls for Scotland."
Rose shrugged. "Could be a hot summer."
The Doctor glanced around. "Yeah, could be..." he agreed, doubt fairly dripping off every word.
Set in the centre of the bay landscape below was a small town. Rose pointed. "Town."
"People."
"Cafe."
"Chips," they chorused together.
"Lead on, Macduff," the Doctor said, bowing low.
"Who?"
He sighed. "When we come back, I'm showing you the library."
3
It watched them go. They were new. New was...puzzling. New wasn't part of the program. But they were interesting. They could be added to the mix. Of course, they would need to be...acclimatised first. Things would need to be handled carefully in the beginning, but after a while...they'd never want to leave.
No-one wanted to leave.
No-one.
It simmered with anger, anger at its fate, at the life which had befallen it.
Anger at its own lies.
4
They had been walking for over an hour. To Rose's credit and the Doctor's surprise, there had not been so much as one complaint from her direction. In fact, she rather seemed to be enjoying the beatific calm of the place. He wished he could say the same.
"You're quiet," she said. He was surprised, and then rather ashamed at his own surprise. She knew him. She'd known him for long enough now. And the face and the dress sense may have changed (for the better, in his opinion) but the core of the person remained constant always.
"First odd thing," the Doctor said by way of reply. They were only a few minutes out from the town now. With the exception of birds and rustling leaves, and the everso faint lapping of water, it was still remarkably quiet. "No cars."
"It's a small town somewhere in Scotland. They're not exactly renowned for monster truck rallies."
"Mmm," he conceded reluctantly. "All the same, you'd think there would have been something."
They rounded a bend in the road. The town was spread out on three, maybe four levels at various heights above the harbour. A few cars (not many, but a few) were indeed pottling along the streets in the distance. He could feel her eyes on him.
"Happy now?"
"I wasn't unhappy before," he said stiffly.
"That's true," she replied. "Just a normal town, Doctor. Sorry to disappoint."
"I just know there's an explanation coming for that one."
"Not everything's a life-or-death adventure. Sometimes a trip for chips is just a trip for chips. Freud. Well, kinda. And for the record – the library is the sixteenth door on the right down the long corridor on the first level."
"Oh, you've been to the small one!" he exclaimed delightedly. "Is that still there? I thought that had been jettisoned!"
She spun to face him. "Hold on a sec. What do you mean, jett-" she started, but got no further as she was interrupted by the sound of a man ostentatiously clearing his throat. They turned, a little startled.
"Ah...good morning to you both," said PC Plum.
"Morning, officer," Rose replied. The Doctor was silent. She nudged him and inclined her head significantly, puzzled at his uncharacteristic hesitancy.
"Yes, hello," the Doctor suddenly jerked into life, stepping forward and pumping the policeman's hand vigorously. "My friend and I are here on holiday. Any good cafes you could recommend?"
"Oh, yes, certainly!" PC Plum beamed brightly. He seemed positively bursting with happiness that he could assist them. Rose couldn't help but smile inwardly. He was a little different to the sort of copper you got used to in London, that was for sure...
"But wh-where are my manners!" he exclaimed suddenly, looking gravely concerned at the offence he must have caused them. "I'm PC Plum. Pleased to meet you both. Welcome to Balamory!"
It was only now that Rose took in the whole ensemble package in front of her. He was riding a bicycle – that's how he had approached them so quietly – but more than that, he was wearing full safety gear. Including helmet with chin strap.
She and the Doctor exchanged glances. She had to look away quickly, because she knew if another glance like that passed between them she'd burst out laughing. And she didn't want to do that to the poor bloke. Besides, despite her protestations to the Doctor, she'd seen the The Wicker Man. Better safe than sorry with remote Scottish villagers.
"Rose Tyler," she indicated herself. "And this is Doctor...Taggart."
"Doctor Taggart, at your service," the Doctor echoed, sending a meaningful look her way. She sent an equally easily-translated one right back.
"Ooh, a good Scottish name!" PC Plum bubbled approvingly. "Well, come on, I'll bring ye both to Suzy Sweet's for a big breakfast you'll never forget!"
"Oh, that's really not necessary," Rose said. "If you just point us in the general direction..." and she trailed off, and caught the Doctor's eyes again, because she was sure she would see reflected in them what she herself was thinking – my God, he is absolutely desperate for us not to go without him...
"Ach, away," PC Plum said out loud, merrily. "What kind of welcomer would I be to Balamory if I didn't show you around a wee bit at least. Come on!"
And without waiting for any further discussion, he started walking off, wheeling his bicycle beside him. The Doctor started off after him. After a few steps he glanced back at the still-stationary Rose.
"Coming, Sigmund?" he said, and started off after PC Plum.
Muttering dark nothings under her breath, she jogged to catch up.
5
"This is terrible! Simply terrible! What are we going to do?"
The cut-glass country gent accent rebounded off Rose's ears as she entered the shop / café. She was finding it more and more difficult to deny that something wasn't quite right in the town of Balamory. En route, she could have sworn she saw, in the distance, a woman dressed in a bright yellow jumpsuit singing at the top of her voice to thin air. It was either someone enthusiastically rehearsing for Kill Bill: The Musical, or…well, there the less-worrying possibilities ended, basically.
Well, this was what she'd signed up for, after all. Somehow though it was easier to accept oddness when you were…say, on a floating space platform 5,000,000,000 years in the future, or in Victorian Wales, or confronted with a Dalek Emperor. Oddness wasn't such of a jolt then. But when you were starving for a good egg and chips and in a sleepy Scottish town, you didn't feel like greeting oddness with a 'fantastic! and a huge grin.
But you never knew, did you? Maybe people in remote towns got a little odd…just for the hell of it. Maybe they liked to play jokes on visitors, jokes that didn't (and this was vital) involve human sacrifice, and merely involved acting a little odd. Before long the joke would be over and it'd be – ho ho, had you going there, now sit down for a slap-up meal on the house, ye Sassenachs…!
"If I don't get those yoghurt pots, I won't be able to make a special model of Daisy the Cow and the children won't be able to have their special story-time afternoon," wailed the man in the bright pink jumper and the kilt.
Rose sighed.
"What seems to be the problem, Archie?" PC Plum asked urgently.
"Well…" Archie replied, and as Rose and the Doctor watched, he took his hands and drew a large upside-down U shape in the air.
No-one blinked an eyelid.
Rose could feel the Doctor's eyes on her. She could feel his grin from here.
"It all began this morning in the nursery. Miss Hoolie told me that the children were really looking forward to going to the farm to see the cows. But then Farmer McCracken telephoned to say that he'd been up all night helping one of the cows have a baby, so he was too tired!"
A chorus of heartfelt gasps were heard around the shop, with only two notable exceptions.
"I volunteered to make a model of a cow with my special yoghurt pots. But when I went home to get them, Nobby had cleaned up and there wasn't any to be found! That's why I came here to Penny and Suzy's to get some new ones – but they're sold out! Now the children won't have a model and they'll be even more disappointed."
"Oh…" PC Plum frowned, deep in thought. "That is a big problem."
During this, Rose had edged closer to the Doctor and, almost without thinking, sought his hand in hers. When she found it, she squeezed. Hard.
An old woman with a kindly face and a red jacket seemed to notice them for the first time. She bustled over to them, smiling. The Doctor had to apply not an insignificant amount of force to stop Rose from turning around and fleeing at her approach.
"Welcome to Pocket and Sweet's," she said, curtseying slightly. "Are ye new in town?"
That seemed to get everyone's attention. For an absurd moment the interior of the shop, with its impossibly garish colours, its complete absence of any brand name goods, its ludicrously large easy-to-read labelling and its total lack of top-shelf magazines (or middle-shelf…or bottom-shelf, for that matter), seemed not unlike a Western saloon with the doors still swinging.
"Yes, we just arrived," the Doctor offered cheerfully.
"Ooh that's wonderful!" she bubbled happily. "I'm Suzy Sweet, this is Penny Pocket, and this is our Archie. He's an inventor you know! Will ye be staying long?"
Rose made an involuntary choking noise in her throat.
"Yes, for a few days I should think," the Doctor went on, ignoring the sudden bout of coughing his companion had developed. He extended a hand and the old woman did likewise. Hers shook. "Doctor Taggart and Rose Tyler. At your service. That goes for all of you."
There was something about the way he said that…
"Ooh, a doctor," cooed the wheelchair-bound girl Suzy had identified as Penny was this for real Pocket. Rose noted somewhat wearily that she was clad entirely in blue. Even her nails were painted blue. She was like an escapee from Why Don't You?, circa 1987. "We don't have a doctor in Balamory."
"Really?" the Doctor said, too casually to be casual. "Fascinating."
"Yes, but none of this is helping me with my problem," moaned Archie, looking wretched. He sat down heavily on a chair, the very epitome of dejection and defeat. "I suppose I'll just have to tell Miss Hoolie that the children won't have their Daisy the cow story today."
Rose could stay silent no longer. "Can't they just, I dunno, watch cartoons or something?"
There was a pause.
"I know!" PC Plum piped up, as Rose glanced around, patting herself in a reassuring exercise that yes, she existed, "if you can't use yoghurt pots to make a Daisy model, we'll have to use something else!"
Archie fairly leapt out of his chair, delighted. Rose took a long step back, mentally calculating distances and the offensive capabilities of nearby objects. "Of course! But what?"
"Well…" PC Plum smiled conspiratorially, "who in Balamory is good at designing things?"
Everyone pondered this for a moment. The negotiations for the Treaty of Versailles could scarcely have prompted such expressions of intense concentration.
"Spencer!" Archie exclaimed, and promptly charged out of the door.
It took Rose a good five seconds to lower her hands.
"Well…" the Doctor said, in the absence of anyone else volunteering to speak, "now that that's sorted, can Rose and I trouble you for a bite to eat?"
"I'm not hungry," Rose said instantly.
"Yes you are, Rose."
"Wanna bet?"
He shot her a look, leaned in close so he could whisper. "They need help."
"Nah? You think?"
But it was no use. This was who they were. He had seen enough to concern him, to suggest that people needed help, and he wouldn't leave before trying his utmost to find out what was going on here and if necessary, tear the place asunder.
It was why she-
"Here you go," Suzy called. "Come on through to the café!"
Five minutes later, after the Doctor's sonic screwdriver had given it the once over, Rose was tucking into the biggest plate of fried goodness she'd ever seen (despite the fact she saw no evidence of a kitchen), and feeling somewhat more well-disposed toward the idea of staying awhile in Balamory.
6
It watched them eat. How had they gotten here? It had made this place outside the world.
Except…
Yes. It looked, re-set parameters, used old settings. And there it stood.
It called for it to be brought. Soon its owner would have no need of it anyway.
7
In a house off Balamory Main Street, a little old man who at present was colouring in a picture of a horsey with a big brown crayon stopped what he was doing. He couldn't make the big brown lines stay within the horsey. It was a pretty horsey, and he was ruining it with his big brown lines. He had always been able to do it before, but today his arthritis was playing up and making his big old stupid hands shake, and the horsey was all smudged now.
The children would see.
The children would be so disappointed.
Tears stung his eyes as he ran the bath. Made his vision blur as he found the extension cord. They dried briefly, but only because the hairdryer was blowing on his face.
He switched it off, and dropped it into the water where he lay.
On the kitchen table downstairs, someone had scrawled the word SRRY in big brown crayon over a crude drawing of a horse.
8
"Do you remember," Rose said thoughtfully, as they ascended the hill that comprised Balamory, when the Daleks had captured me and they were all set to exterminate me?"
The Doctor made a show of hmmm'ing for a few seconds. "Vaguely," he replied.
"If you offered me a choice between that, and when that guy with the kilt charged at us, I'd pick the Daleks every time."
He laughed. "Your face! I thought you were going to swoon into my arms."
She gave him a dubious look. "Swoon?"
"Er, well…"
"Collapse, more like. So what's going on here? Is everyone completely totally mad or what?"
"I'm not sure yet," the Doctor replied. "The sonic screwdriver's not picking up anything out of the ordinary, which could mean either everyone is mad or that there's something going on that's too advanced to register."
This hill was hard going, but she found that she wasn't even begrudging the trudging. She did pause for a moment, but only to turn and silently admire the view. He stopped alongside her. Rose had to admit that, despite a population of loonies, Balamory really was one of the prettiest places she'd ever been to. For a few seconds they just drank in the casual beauty of the landscape painted before them, effortless perfection, like something taken from a child's storybook.
Something in her head went ding. She frowned, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.
"You must have some theories," she accused him, as they began to ascend the steeply rising streets once again, "I know you."
"Oh you do, do you? Should I brace myself for another little psychoanalysis session?"
"What's the matter? I get close?" she grinned.
Too close.
"Not a bit of it," he lied, and then went on to detail the various spatial vortexes or alien races that could be behind the Balamory anomaly, all the while his mind on very different matters. Was she right? He knew better than anyone that the Heart of the TARDIS was linked to his mind, partially piloted by his mind. How much of his mind? The conscious, or the subconscious? Did he crave danger? Was the TARDIS sending him on these adventures because it was responding to that craving?
Had the companions who died on those adventures died because of it?
A large yellow mini-bus went past at what seemed like 200mph, but was probably a normal enough speed – it seemed supersonic only because it had been the only vehicle that had actually driven past them since they arrived.
"Wonder where it's going in such a rush," Rose observed.
"Same place everyone goes in this town," the Doctor replied. "Same place we're going. The nursery."
9
"…and I think everyone should say a great big thank you to Archie and Spencer for designing such a fantastic model of Daisy the Cow – and thanks to Edie McCredie for bringing it here in her bus, just in time for story time!"
The children mumbled their thank yous in the general direction of the adults concerned. Archie blushed enormously and went back to operating Daisy's arms and legs, making her 'dance' erratically for the children's amusement.
Not that they were amused.
Miss Hoolie sighed contentedly and walked over to her special chair. "So," she said with a smile, addressing thin air, "what was the story in Balamory today? Well…"
The door to the nursery opened. "Hello?" the Doctor called, Rose making sure she was as hidden as possible behind him. She caught sight of a young woman clad in green with what could only be described as an unfortunate hairstyle making an upside down U shape in mid-air.
"It's the Satanic sign!" Rose hissed.
"Ssh," the Doctor replied. They walked into the main floor area of the nursery, where around eight children stood or sat. "Archie, old chap!" he said brightly. "How's it hanging?"
Rose nudged him in the ribs, shocked. "The puppet," the Doctor clarified.
Archie looked up from his Daisy puppetry briefly. "Oh, er, hello again," he said, sounding absurdly guilty. "Just helping the children out with story time. Won't be a mo."
Rose glanced around at the children. They weren't paying the least bit of attention to Archie's frantic caperings. There were two other adults nearby – her mind instantly labelled them Blue Lady and Orange Man. It was like the whole town was in the grip of an overly complicated Traffic Light Disco. Neither had noticed the newcomers – like Archie, they were trying their best to entertain the children in a frantic, disconcertingly desperate way.
"Right bunch of livewires, this lot," she commented.
The Doctor waved a hand in front of a small boy's face. His expression remained vacant. He continued trying to put a square peg in a round hole. He squatted down on his hands and knees. "Hello there, little man," he said cheerfully, "I'm the Doctor. What's your name?"
Slowly, gradually, the little boy's eyes raised from his peg-hole toy to meet the Doctor's gaze. As this happened, Archie and the other two adults stopped what they were doing and abruptly seemed extremely concerned.
On her special chair, Miss Hoolie saw. Her eyes widened in alarm. She had to finish. She had to finish quickly, before-
"Oh don't bother Afga while he's playing!" Archie said, voice cheerful and hollow in equal measure.
Rose began to get a strong sense of foreboding. She dropped her hand on the Doctor's shoulder.
"Maybe you should-" she began, but it was too late, and several things happened very quickly.
Afga's eyes met the Doctor's.
The Doctor began to shriek.
The other children began to look up from what they were doing.
"…I'll see you next time. Goodbye!" Miss Hoolie cried out, and vanished.
The children vanished a half-second later. The Doctor's shriek tailed off.
Rose finally realised she could move. "Doctor!" she said, and dived forward to gather him up before he toppled backward. She had never heard him make a sound like that – never heard anyone make a sound like that. It had frozen her to the core. His eyes were shut, tightly shut.
She could smell burning.
The other adults were upon them. Rose dragged the Doctor back , recoiling. "Get away from us!" she said fiercely, sick of this crazy place, equal parts angry and terrified at what had happened to the Doctor.
Blue Lady simply pushed her aside, cupping the Doctor's head in her hands and examining him closely. "He's bad," she said simply. "Caught it full on, looks like."
"Poor chap," Archie said softly.
"Poor? Lucky more like – if Kerrie hadn't finished the episode as quickly as she did, he'd have a hole through the back of his head," snorted Orange Man. He had a strong American accent.
"Help me get him to bus. He shouldn't be here. Neither should you," and she was talking to Rose now, not unkindly but firmly nonetheless, "not if you don't know the rules."
Rose examined their faces. There was none of the vacancy of expression there had been until recently, none of the waxen quality. They looked, despite their ridiculous outfits, like real people. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.
Archie checked the huge, happy-face clock. "We've got eighteen minutes."
"Spencer, Archie, get him in the bus."
They moved with purpose and speed. Rose felt blood thundering in her ears. This was all becoming a little too much to deal with.
"I'm Edie," said Blue Lady, keeping that reassuring smile fixed on Rose, "c'mon, let's get the hell out of here, and I'll explain as much as I can on the way."
"Where did all the kids go?" Rose asked, weakly. She watched that smile disappear entirely.
"Back to Hell," Edie replied.