My first entry on this site in a while. Crossover fics featuring multiple characters played by the same actor seems to be common-I quite enjoyed a few Doctor Who/Blackpool and DW/Broadchurch ones I've found on the WhoFic website-but I haven't come across any involving Spies of Warsaw. And I've wanted to write this plot ever since I saw the movie.
So, we have a Doctor Who/Spies of Warsaw crossover. Listed as "Doctor Who/misc" crossover simply because I don't see an entry for Spies of Warsaw, not the book or the movie. (Or would that be considered a TV show? Still don't see it in the list.)
In the Doctor Who timeline, this takes place towards the end of New Who season 2, after Ten loses Rose to Pete's World and before he arranges to say goodbye.
In the Spies of Warsaw timeline, it takes place... well, before Spies of Warsaw, obviously, by about a good two decades.
I own none of the characters mentioned in this chapter.
The story will, eventually, include characters of my own making, solely to connect it to my other Who fics... many of which I'm in the process of rewriting in the hopes I can get them legitimately published, so I won't be posting much of them on here. At least not yet. You'll have to check out my deviantArt accounts, either SideQuestPubs or SideQuestPublication, if you want to see character bios and such.
Countryside, somewhere in central France
Circa 1910's
A young man crept through the trees, two hounds following close behind. He was rather bad — someone more honest might have said lazy, or perhaps apathetic — at tending to his estate, and he preferred to leave the details up to the servants. But he prided himself on his ability to handle the animals, domestic and otherwise.
So when, two nights ago, something had begun frightening the horses senseless, he'd taken interest in even the slightest rumor of predators in the area.
When their terror had spread to the rest of the livestock, and even the gentlest of the creatures had begun lashing out at their handlers yesterday, he'd immediately sent for a veterinarian, and had refused to let anyone else touch the animals until answers could be found.
And when, just this morning, the servants found him in the middle of breakfast to tell him that two of the animals had killed each other, he'd packed up his guns and set off to find out what was driving them mad.
He'd set out immediately, leaving his breakfast only half eaten, and his stomach told him that he'd long since missed lunch. And judging from the flashes of light, a storm was building. He didn't particularly relish being out here much longer.
He was beginning to suspect that he was wasting his time. The entire forest was frightened into silence, or perhaps into fleeing, but by what? If it was some predator, it was one he'd never encountered before. There was no sound, no smell, no track he could identify to suggest a cause. Not even the wolves that prowled these parts could frighten the other animals that badly.
Could they?
Snap!
Was that the storm? No, something else was out here. Trying to sneak up on him. Doing quite well, he had to admit, though not well enough to catch him by surprise.
He steadied his rifle before glancing down at the dogs. Their ears had perked up at the sound, but their tails were wagging.
He resisted the urge to start swearing. What was she doing out here? He knew it was her; nothing else would get that reaction from the dogs when they were working.
He waited for her to make another sound; he wanted to scare her a little, but it wouldn't do for it to look contrived.
Snap!
He whirled, rifle in hand, and aimed directly at the spot the noise had come from.
"Don't shoot!" the woman's panicked voice called out. "It's me, it's Gabrielle!"
"Get out here!" he snarled in reply.
The young woman stepped out where he could see her. She took one look at the smirk he couldn't quite keep off his face, and she glared at him. "Damn it, Jean-Francois, you knew it was me, didn't you?"
"I did," he admitted, "or I would have shot. Why are you even out here? I've told you, it isn't safe."
"You still don't know what's frightening them," Gabrielle said. "Do you honestly think it's any safer for you to be out here all alone?"
He wasn't alone, not with the dogs following him, but he resisted the urge to point that out to her. She could be as stubborn as he was when she wanted to be, and knowing her, she'd just turn that argument back on him. "I'd be a lot safer," he said instead, "if I didn't have anyone else out here to worry about. Go home, Gabrielle."
She just huffed. "You can't expect me to go off by myself," she snapped. "It wouldn't be very safe, now, would it?"
He blinked about three times, sighed, and then whistled to the dogs. The big male perked up, wagged its tail, and looked at its master expectantly. "Home," he said to the dog, pointing down the vague path.
The dog bounded off in the general direction of the house. Jean-Francois watched Gabrielle with a raised eyebrow, waiting to see if his gamble paid off.
It did. His sister loved the dogs as much as he did, and wouldn't dare let one of them wander off on its own. She gave him a poisonous look before she turned around and followed the dog.
Jean-Francois waited another moment to be sure she'd really gone, before he and the other dog continued their hunt.
The sky was getting darker, and the flashes were becoming more frequent. Jean-Francois had almost decided to head back for the day. A veterinarian should be on the way by now, anyway. He whistled for the dog.
The dog didn't come.
He whistled again. He turned around to find the dog.
The dog was crouching, stock still, staring at something in the distance. The fur was raised all along its body.
"What is it, girl?" he whispered. He approached the dog slowly. "What's wrong? What've you found?" He crouched to try to get a better look at what the animal was staring at.
The dog issued a snarl that sent chills all along his spine. He wondered, briefly, if whatever had driven the other animals mad could have infected the dogs.
He had no time to do more than wonder before the dog whirled to attack.
He jumped back and swung out, reflexively, with the butt of his rifle, sending the dog sprawling. A too-brief respite. The dog had barely landed before it started climbing to its feet.
Jean-Francois didn't wait to see what the dog would do next. He raced along the path, trying to watch for tree roots and low branches and the dog all at once. He nearly ran smack into a tree, but he managed to cling to it instead and began climbing.
The dog raced after him. Jaws closed on his ankle before he could pull away, and the sudden weight pulled him down. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
The dog released his ankle and leaped. Jean-Francois struggled to raise his rifle, but the dog moved too quickly. It was pure luck that the animal's jaws fastened onto the rifle instead of his throat.
A worthless defense, that. All the dog had to do would be to duck under or leap over the rifle, and it could reach his throat easily. All it had to do would be to pull away with the rifle in its jaws; he knew the animal could work that out, he'd trained the dogs to it himself!
Hell, right now, his throat was the only thing that wasn't exposed. And with the dog standing on top of him, its claws digging in as it tried to kill him, it was impossible for him to get at the pistol that was currently digging into his hip from below.
But whatever had driven the animal mad had clearly rendered it stupid. The dog was determined to go in a straight line to reach his throat, and that meant going through the rifle. That was the only thing protecting him... but even that protection couldn't last long.
His eyes widened, and a whimper escaped his throat, as he watched the rifle splinter.
He struggled to reach the pistol trapped underneath him.
The dog finally snapped the rifle in half.
He managed to grab the pistol, jerking his body to free the gun from the holster.
The dog tumbled off of him, and then leaped for him again.
He held up the pistol, pulled the trigger just as he felt the jaws closing on his throat...
BLAM!
Jean-Francois took deep, gulping breaths. It took several long minutes before he could stop shaking and dislodge the weight on top of him. Several more before he could trust himself to stand, and he had to lean against the tree to keep from falling over again.
A woman screamed.
Jean-Francois jerked his head up, and he started shaking again. "Gabrielle," he whispered.
He grabbed the rifle — useless as a gun, now, but it might do as a club — and pistol, and headed in the direction of the scream, his staggering footsteps gradually steadying and his stride lengthening until he was running full-on.
"Gabrielle!" he cried out. He crashed through the brush, not particularly caring who or what might hear him.
The other dog, the big male, launched itself at one of the trees, paying no heed to the blood pouring from its jaws or feet.
He was sure her voice had come from here... "Gabrielle!"
"I'm here!"
Jean-Francois peered into the trees, finally spied her in the branches a little above where the dog was attacking. He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief before he steeled himself to the fight. She'd clearly been luckier than he, but not by much — the trees around here were young and small and far too flexible.
Gabrielle's perch wouldn't keep her out of reach for long.
Jean-Francois emptied his pistol at the dog, but he only succeeded in enraging it further. The animal abandoned the tree and came after him. Jean-Francois backpedaled, swinging the ruined rifle as a club.
Three things happened all at once. The dog caught the rifle in its jaws and yanked back.
Jean-Francois lost his grip on the rifle and lost his balance. His head collided with something extremely solid.
And the world exploded into white. His only coherent thought was to wonder if he'd been struck by the lightning.
Jean-Francois crumpled to the ground. He vaguely heard Gabrielle screaming his name, but he could not reply.
The lightning crackled nearby, flashing white again in his vision. The dog yelped, then fell silent. Jean-Francois could not even move his head to see what had happened.
Other sensations were returning. He could see Gabrielle leaning over him, feel her shaking him, but he still could not speak. It was as though he was watching everything happen to someone else.
Heavy footsteps thudded behind Gabrielle. She turned away from him, briefly, panic written in every line of her face.
The creature behind her spoke with an odd voice, like it was speaking through a radio.
Some enormous thing stood over him. Jean-Francois felt himself being lifted. Pain exploded in his head again, and then he felt nothing at all.
Made a very minor change in setting due to tracking down the book. Seems Mercier's estate is somewhere around a place called Boutillon, which maps tell me is in central France (confirmed by the book explicitly stating they have a country estate in central France)... thus not "just outside Paris."
Has no bearing on the plot, just a quick change at the top.