Elizabeth walked around the outside of Pennington house, juggling the shopping in her arms. She groaned. She hated England. Well, she didn't hate it, she hated her life here. Or at least the unfairness of it. She loved him, she really did. But she couldn't have him. Max was marrying someone else and she had to accept that. She'd thought she'd come here for a prestigious scholarship and instead she was a scullery maid. All because of some dumb forms. She'd actually smiled when she'd seen Starbucks in town earlier because it was a tenuous reminder of home. How pathetic was that? Her shoulders slumped. Maybe it was time to face facts and go back home. This place clearly didn't want her. It was doing it's upmost to make life here impossible for her. She should call her parents, she thought, glancing at the pay phone box down the path. Get the inevitable over with. She felt a twinge of hesitation remembering how they'd sided with Jessica. She slowly walked towards the booth. She could make the decision when she reached it, she decided. She groaned again. Did anyone even care about her back home anymore anyway? Or at least anymore than here? She suddenly did a double take, and refocused her eyes. Hang on, what was a phone box doing around the outside of Pennington House? Her paced picked up and she rushed as quickly as she could with the shopping in her hands towards it. She snorted as she saw 'Police' written on the outside of the booth. Trust them to have something quirky like that over here. It was probably some historical artefact and probably older than she was and probably completely useless as well. She reached the door and tried to push it open. "What?" She moaned, as it remained shut, refusing to budge. It really was some kind of artefact. How dumb was that? She pushed at the door again, using all her might. "Grrrrrrrr," she moaned again from the strain of pushing. She finally stepped back, glaring at the box. She felt her shopping slipping out her fingers and she glanced down briefly, trying to get her grip on her bags. She looked back up feeling a gust of wind blow her hair, her eyes going wide.
"What?" She cried again, shaking her head in disbelief. It couldn't just have just disappeared. It couldn't! What on Earth had just happened? It had just been there. She'd been pushing at it. She took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her thoughts. Her life must seriously be affecting her mental state. Now she was imagining phone boxes. She decided to walk on before anyone certified her crazy. She headed back into the house and towards the kitchen to put away her shopping. Her paced slowed slightly as she heard hushed tones coming from one of the side rooms. She paused briefly outside the door, the reporters' instinct in her taking over. People didn't normally whisper in closed rooms unless they had something to hide.
"You can't just keep stuffing them in there," a voice Elizabeth couldn't place argued.
"What other choice do we have?" Another voice argued back. "The wedding's next week." Elizabeth felt her heart sink, deciding they must be talking about the arrangements for the wedding guests. Logically she knew this wedding was happening, she just wished her stupid heart would get with the program.
"Shh!" One of the voices ordered. "I hear footsteps." Elizabeth looked behind her, noticing a couple heading down the corridor. Guests, she figured, glancing at their clothing. She jumped back as the door started to open and she rushed down the corridor before she could be accused of eavesdropping, continuing her way towards the kitchen. She pushed open the door and stopped abruptly as she was greeted by a small gathering of people, their attention focused on a tall man, probably in his mid-thirties. Another one to join us slaves, she decided, recognising the unmistakable gestures of an introduction going on. No one would be bothering to introduce him unless he was considered as lowly as them, she reasoned. She held back a snort, wondering if he knew what he was letting
himself in for.
Elizabeth looked him up and down, briefly berating herself for being as superficial as Jessica. Sort of cute, she finally decided, a little geeky but still very cute. She shook her head. Didn't she have enough trouble with men already? She'd managed to fall in love with guy who was engaged to be married and who had no choice but to go through with the wedding. Why couldn't she have chosen someone uncomplicated? She cringed, missing her twin for a moment. At least at times like this Jessica could always be trusted to have a life that was more of a disaster than her own. She berated herself herself again, thinking about Jessica made her think about the betrayal and she had come to England to get away from that. She refused to let herself dwell on it. She jumped slightly, realising she'd been daydreaming and the new guy and some other guy, who she recognised as one of the butlers, were standing in front of her.
"John Smith," the butler announced, making it clear he had little time for this task as he gestured across towards the new person. "This is...," he prompted, now gesturing towards Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth," she supplied quickly, reminding herself not to forget her manners just because her life was a mess. "Elizabeth W...," she quickly stopped herself from instinctively giving out her real name instead of the one she'd been using in England. "Elizabeth Bennett." The new guy pulled a thoughtful face, obviously trying to place where he'd heard that name before, but then he suddenly reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into a rather overenthusiastic handshake. Elizabeth let out a nervous giggle, taken back.
"Mr. Smith," the butler interrupted. "I don't have all day. I do have other things to do," he added flatly. He dropped Elizabeth's hand, stepping back slightly. He gave her a massive, slightly crazy but still friendly grin. Elizabeth smiled back. She wasn't sure why but despite his strange behaviour, she found herself wondering if she'd found an ally over here at last, or at least someone who might understand and who she could talk to. She stopped herself, realising how stupid that sounded. She'd only just met the guy!
"Perhaps you have some work to be getting on with, Miss Bennett," the butler commented, his tone still as flat as before. Elizabeth somehow resisted the temptation to tell him he wasn't her boss, deciding this snotty butler wasn't worth the hassle. She went off to take his advice and make herself useful somewhere.
Elizabeth straightened the vacumn cleaner pushing it into the cleaning cupboard, quickly wiping her brow. She snorted to herself a moment as she wondered if she should find that butler to tell him she'd made a pretty good job of making herself useful. She pushed the door shut and her ears immediately pricked up as she heard a voice that she immediately recognised as Max's speaking to someone and getting worringly closer. She couldn't face him. Not right now. Not when she looked like a sweaty mess. She looked around for the nearest refuge and decided the kitchen was her best option. She went crashing through the door hastily. Too desperate to escape to wonder how it would look. She immediately spotted John Smith near one of the kettles in the corner of the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I just...so, how are you finding it?" She asked, trying to add a bit of normality to the situation. John shrugged.
"How have you found it?" He asked, turning the question back on her.
"Fine," Elizabeth forced herself to say, deciding he probably wouldn't want to hear about how she really wasn't meant to be here and how she was in love with someone she couldn't be with.
"Fine but?" John prompted, astutely picking up on her tone.
"Well," Elizabeth started awkwardly. "It's just that sometimes, some of the people can be a little...." She stopped a moment, searching for the right word.
"A little?" He prompted again.
"Pompous," she finally settled for. That sounded like a good old fashioned English word. "Very English."
"Latin originally actually," John corrected.
"I didn't mean...," Elizabeth tried to explain her words but she stopped again as the butler from earlier came through the door.
"Mr. Smith," he started, his tone no different from before. "Are you actually going to bring those teas?"
"Just coming," John answered, picking up some cups before quickly giving Elizabeth a look that said maybe her earlier comment hadn't been that far off the mark and heading out of the door. Elizabeth let out a small laugh before walking back out the kitchen. She headed down the corridor, feeling strangely a little bit more at home than she ever had since she'd arrived here. She jumped suddenly as a door slammed open and a maid, whose name was Jenny if she remembered correctly, came rushing out.
"Are you all right?" Elizabeth questioned anxiously as the flustered girl was locking the door, although she was grateful not to be one strangely bursting through doors this time.
"I'm fine - I'm fine," she stammered.
"You don't look fine," Elizabeth commented, her voice concerned.
"I'm all right," she tried to argue. "It's just...," her voice trailed off.
"It's just?" Elizabeth questioned.
"Promise me you won't think I'm crazy," she pleaded.
"I won't think you're crazy," Elizabeth promised. Jenny looked away before finally answering her.
"That room hasn't been used for days," she whispered. "All their stuff is still there but that bed hasn't been slept in for days," she whispered.
"Really?" Elizabeth asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She nodded.
"Nothing in there has moved," she told her. "The bed's even still turned up in the same corner as when I straightened the sheets yesterday."
"Maybe they've switched to another room or gone somewhere else," Elizabeth suggested, not wanting to get drawn into some strange conspiracy theory. There was probably some perfectly reasonable explanation, even if it didn't immediately spring to mind.
"And just left their stuff?" She countered.
"Maybe they had an emergency," Elizabeth tried another tack. Jenny shook her head, looking dubious.
"They still wouldn't have left all their stuff," she argued back. "No, it's like they've...." She hesitated, looking for the right word. "It's like they've disappeared," she finally settled for. Elizabeth cringed inwardly, thinking back to her imaginary phone box from yesterday.
"People don't just disappear," she said firmly, refusing to become illogical. She tended to leave that trait to Jessica.
"Not normally," she agreed. "But the thing is it's not even the only one," she admitted. "There's another one exactly the same down the hall."
"You're sure?"
"I'm not a fantasist," she said firmly, pulling a slightly offended face.
"I didn't mean that," Elizabeth quickly placated her. "It's just you know how it sounds," she continued.
"I know, but I know what I've seen and it isn't normal," the girl said bluntly. "None of this is normal. Something really strange is going on." Elizabeth thought back to the hushed voices she'd heard the day before. She did have a point. Maybe this was more than just pre-wedding anxiety spreading around the house.
"Do you have the keys to the room?" Elizabeth whispered back. "Maybe there's a clue or something in there." Jenny reached into her pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and quickly searching for the one she wanted. She went to put the key in the lock. She pulled back.
"I can't go snooping around," Jenny said worriedly. "It's more than my job's worth if we get caught. I'm not even sure I want to know what's going on. Besides it's really creepy in there." Elizabeth wondered whether to argue but then decided it would just be wasting her time.
"Okay," Elizabeth agreed. "Just give me those keys and I'll go looking." She wasn't about to be deterred in the same way. She'd been in more terrifying situations than this before. Heck, someone had tried to take over her life once and managed to fool some of the people closest to her. Jenny obediently dropped the keys in Elizabeth's hand. She ran off down the corridor before Elizabeth could even say anything else. Elizabeth took a deep breath and turned back to the door. She jumped again as she heard footsteps getting closer. She turned around and saw Max's familiar face heading in her direction, though he hadn't noticed her yet, she quickly raced off in the direction Jenny had gone again. Elizabeth finally reached her own room and let out a sigh of relief. She really wasn't in the mood to face Max right now. She wondered how long she could keep this up for. She needed to leave, or she needed to learn to deal with facing him. She thought back on the conversation she'd just had. She needed to come up with some kind of plan. She couldn't just let this go now, her reporter's instinct was too strong. The more she thought about it the more it did seem a little strange. The hushed conversations and now rooms that weren't being used but were still filled with wedding guest's stuff. Actually, hadn't she thought to herself the other day that a handful of the cars parked outside never seemed to go anywhere? She reached for her notepad and pen, deciding to write down everything she knew, even if it wasn't that much. After all that was how she would normally approach a story. Then first thing in the morning, when no one was around, she was off back to that room.
Elizabeth looked around nervously as she headed towards that room the next morning, she got an eerie feeling just being here now. She opened the door and snuck inside. Jenny was right. The place was surprisingly lifeless, given that fact it was still full of stuff. She felt a little thrill run through her, as odd as the situation was it felt good to be Elizabeth Wakefield again, if only briefly, instead of Elizabeth Bennett the scullery maid. This reminded her of the investigations her and Tom Watts had done when she first arrived at Sweet Valley University. Dangerous but exhilarating. Elizabeth started methodically looking through the stuff, grateful that it was so early she was unlikely to be disturbed. In fact it was still dark outside in the English winter morning. Half an hour later a little of the exhilaration had died as pushed in the last draw of the chest. All that and there was nothing there. Nothing at all! It just looked like a normal room. Except with disappearing people. She jumped for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days. She turned to the door and let out a sigh of relief as she was greeted by John's face.
"It's just you," she breathed in relief, putting her hand over her own heart as it's rate started to slow slightly.
"I thought this was one of my rooms now," he questioned, his voice curious. Elizabeth hesitated a moment.
"It is," she finally admitted. "I needed to, I thought I might have left something in here," she finally spat out. She wished she could take back the words as soon as they came out, realising how pathetic they sounded. Like she just came in here regularly depositing her stuff.
"When would you have left something in here?" He asked, his voice still curious.
"A while back it was one of my rooms," she lied. "It's been missing a while."
"What is it you've lost? I can keep an eye out for it," he offered.
"It's...it's...," she started to stammer again. She suddenly paused. "Hey, hang on a moment," she cried. "It's way too early for you to be going around cleaning the rooms. What exactly are you doing here?"
"The same as you by the looks of it," he answered, nodding his head towards the notepad she had in her pocket. Elizabeth got the distinct impression he'd known all along exactly what she'd been doing in here.
"You've noticed the strange things going on?" She questioned, keeping her voice low. She wasn't sure why but she felt she could trust this guy. He eyed her intently for a moment.
"What was your name again?" John finally asked.
"Elizabeth," she supplied.
"Bennett wasn't it?"
"Yes," Elizabeth lied again. He suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Now, I remember! Jane Austen," the guy mused at the name. "Now, that was a dull trip."
"What are you talking about?"
"What exactly have you noticed?" John questioned, not answering Elizabeth's question, going off on his own train of thought.
"Well," Elizabeth started, leading him out of the room and into the corridor. "There are rooms that still have guest's stuff in it but still aren't being used, and," she continued, gesturing towards the gathering of cars, she could just make out in the security lights from the house. "Some of those cars haven't been moved for days either. I know that might not sound that weird but surely at least a few of them would have gone somewhere once." John looked thoughtful.
"Well, if there is something going on, I doubt they'd be so obvious as to hide the evidence in one of the rooms," he announced. "Is there some kind of basement or cellar in this place?" Elizabeth stared at him a moment, her suspicions he'd known all along what she was doing growing.
"There's a cellar, I think, the entrance is in the kitchen," she answered.
"Well, then, why are we still hanging around here?" He asked, giving her that slightly insane looking grin he had. Elizabeth chased after him as he went rushing off towards the staircase. She caught up with him inside the kitchen. She held her chest again, already feeling out of breath.
"Through there," she told him, pointing to the door that led to the cellar. They headed through the door and down the stairs, alot more slowly this time, both because of the restricted light and anticipation. "I don't think there's anything down here," she said bluntly, trying to reassure herself. "I've never seen anyone come down here." They finally reached the bottom of the stairs as John flicked on one of the lights.
"No," he answered. "They come down here, they just don't come back up." Elizabeth stared out in disbelief at what looked like at least a dozen people, with their backs to them. None of them moved to acknowledge their presence.
"Oh my god," she breathed. "What is this?" John walked off towards the group and after a second Elizabeth did the same, refusing to be the weak link in all of this. She stepped in front of one of the people and let out a scream as she took in the faceless appearance. The person no longer had eyes, or mouth or a nose, just a blank sheet of skin. She looked around, none of them did. She ran away from the group and towards the stairs, her eyes wide. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked across at John, expecting to see the same look of shock that she felt, but he didn't look particularly shocked or surprised. He looked like this was a normal occurance to him. She felt slightly perturbed by his calmness. "What is this?" She whispered again, hoping someone could actually hear her over the banging of her heart.
"I've seen this before," he admitted.
"Before?" Elizabeth questioned in shock. "So you know what's done this?"
"Oh, yes," he answered. "And I know just how to stop it. Again." Elizabeth got the impression John probably considered himself above eye rolling, if not the odd sarcastic comment. She followed him as he walked over to her and headed back up the stairs, definitely not wanting to be left alone down there. She'd seen a few things in her time, but the most paranormal thing she'd seen had turned out to be a guy wearing a werewolf mask, and she was pretty sure these people weren't wearing masks.
"If you've seen this before, what's happened to those people?" She demanded.
"There's this creature," John explained. "It calls itself the Wire. It feeds off energy, like brain waves," he explained, indicating behind him. "Last time I met it, it was living inside television in the 1950s." Elizabeth shook her head for a moment, deciding she must have misheard the 1950s comment. Besides which she wasn't sure it sounded that ridiculous given what she'd just seen.
"It's taken their brains?" She exclaimed, the words sounding daft even to her own ears. She resisted the temptation to pinch herself and hope that she woke up. "Are they dead?"
"No," he answered. "Not if I can help it," he told her as he opened the door back to the kitchen. He pushed her back inside the cellar as the door at the other side of the kitchen opened. Elizabeth could hear the faint sound of voices, but they were too distant sounding to make out the words.
"What are they doing here so early?" Elizabeth wondered, her voice hushed.
"I don't know," John answered. "But somehow I don't think they are trying to help us."
"Do you think they've just been hiding these people down here?" She asked worriedly, not wanting to think anyone would do that.
"Whether it's the 1950s or 2008 people always seem to have the same way of dealing with problems. Not to."
"How do you know so much if you're just working as a servant?" Elizabeth whispered, still trying to keep her voice low as possible.
"This isn't the usual day job," he admitted.
"Then what is?" John pulled a face, clearly debating his answer.
"I just sort of travel," he finally answered.
"Travel where?"
"Just around."
"So, what are you doing here?" She demanded, starting to get slightly annoyed by his enigmatic answers.
"You weren't the first to notice something strange was going on," he explained. "So, I got myself in here."
"How did you manage that? If you're not really a one of us lowly maids? Surely they wanted references?"
"I have this kind of psychic paper," he said. "It lets me show them what I want them to see."
"Psychic paper?" Elizabeth questioned in disbelief. As soon as he wasn't looking she was going to pinch herself and wake up from this absurd dream.
"That's right," he replied.
"But you could have been anyone," Elizabeth pointed out, her voice still dubious. "Why did you choose to be one of the servants?"
"If you want to know what's really going on work in the kitchen," he told her. "That's what I always say. Looks like I was right. Not that that's surprising."
Elizabeth gave him a look.
"I wouldn't go that far," she argued. "We still only know half of what's going on and that's because we can't get to them." John didn't answer, listening to see if the voices were still there. "It's really dark in here," Elizabeth complained, shivering slightly, wishing they hadn't flicked them off as they came back up.
"Hang on," he told her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a strange metalic object. He pointed it at one of the light bulbs and the room lit up again.
"What on Earth is that thing?" She demanded, staring at it in disbelief. Elizabeth looked down at the faceless people. OK, maybe it had been better without the light.
"A sonic screwdriver."
"A sonic what?"
"Screwdriver," he repeated.
"That doesn't look like any screwdriver I've ever seen," Elizabeth said, shaking her head.
"Humans," John mused. "All the things you've seen here and you're shocked by a sonic screwdriver!" Elizabeth cringed as she heard the voices step further into the room. That was it. She really was trapped in here with a mad man and a dozen faceless people.
"Thanks," she answered flatly. "Is your real name even John?" She wondered, not able to keep out some of the annoyance in her voice.
"No," he admitted.
"Who are you, then?" She demanded.
"I'm the Doctor."
"What, like people just call you the Doctor?"
"That's right."
"I can't believe you just made up a name," Elizabeth said angrily, folding her arms, not bothering to dwell too much on the absurdity of the new name he'd given her.
"You can talk, Miss Wakefield," he answered, still fiddling with the sonic screwdriver thing. Elizabeth stared at him.
"How - how did you know that?" She stuttered.
"Well, if you going to use a different name it might be best not to have your real name written on your socks," he pointed out. Elizabeth look down at her feet, her eyes immediately met by the bright red glitterly socks Todd had had made for her as a gift one year after she'd moaned about Jessica pinching hers. She felt her cheeks go red. He suddenly pushed open the door and Elizabeth realised he'd been listening to noises outside as they'd been talking. She followed him out into the kitchen as he shut the cellar door behind them, briefly pointing the sonic screwdriver back at the light.
"What about them?" She questioned, gesturing her head towards the door. "Are they all right down there?"
"They won't do anything," he told her. "They're just sort of," he stopped for a second. "There."
"They won't hurt anyone? Pass it on? Anything like that?"
"No," he told her. "It doesn't work like that. Is there some kind of computer system here?" He asked suddenly.
"I don't know. Why?"
"If we can find out who's been affected, maybe there's some kind of pattern. Then I can find the Wire and stop it," he said, sounding as if he thought she should have realised that already.
"If there is it'll be in one of the studies. I don't know how they were recording the guests for the wedding, though," she said honestly.
"Where is there one?"
"I think there's one down here," Elizabeth answered. "It'll be locked though," she told him, chasing after him as he was already hurrying down the corridor.
"Through here?" He questioned, holding the sonic screwdriver to the lock.
"Yes, I think so, but...." Her voice trailed off as he pushed the door open. He pointed the sonic screwdriver back at the door once they stepped inside and Elizabeth flicked on the light. He switched on the computer. "It's password protected," she announced as the login screen flicked up. "I have no idea what it might be," she said, thinking she could anticipate his question. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at it and dozens of pages suddenly started flicking up. "Is there anything that thing can't do?" Elizabeth wondered, raising an eyebrow. The Doctor pulled a face.
"No," he mused. "Not that I've found out so far. Except it doesn't wound, it doesn't main and it doesn't kill." He continued staring at the screen. "This is useless," he announced, wacking the screen before running his hand through his hair. "They've started a database and only half finished it. How difficult can it be to keep a database up to date?"
"Maybe I can speak to Max," Elizabeth started to offer, her head winning over the bit in her heart that didn't want to see him.
"No," the Doctor answered, standing up. "It'll just waste time. The Wire must have reconfigured out of it's storage unit and taken all this time to build up enough electro-magnetic energy to be able to activate itself again."
"What does that mean?"
"It must have escaped from where I trapped it before and it's only just strong enough to be able to plot something," he substituted more plainly as he opened the door again and they started heading back down the corridor.
"Right, so how did you trap it before?" Elizabeth forced herself to ask. Even if he was a mad man, he was the only person she had to talk to.
"I invented an analogue recording device pre-historical timeline and...." His voice trailed off as Elizabeth gave him another pointed looked. "I invented the video recorder a decade early and trapped it in a tape," he substituted again as they reached the front entrance of the large house. Elizabeth shivered as they stepped out into the cold and still dark English morning. The only light from the security lights.
"That's great," Elizabeth told him. "But what are we going to do now?" She questioned as they stepped around the corner and almost completely out of any light.
"We need to go back to the 1950s and work out how it escaped and where it is now," he answered. "And try to avoid crossing my own timeline." Elizabeth was about to make a sarcastic remark about the ridiculousness of this comment but her words died as she looked behind her.
"Doctor," she began. "You know how you said those people wouldn't do anything?"
"Ummm."
"Doctor," she screeched, turning completely around and gesturing her head forward. He turned around seeing the group of faceless people, heading towards them.
"OK, I may have miscalculated about this being the Wire's work," he admitted, as they walked backwards.
"Is this your way of saying you got it wrong?" Elizabeth wondered astutely. "If it's not this Wire thing, then what is it?"
"Well, basically I...I haven't got a clue," he admitted.
"Then what are we going to do?"
"Run," he said, grabbing her hand and turning around. Elizabeth realised this really was probably an everyday thing to him if his pace was anything to go by. She didn't have time to think about where they were running to, she was just grateful they were quicker than the faceless people. They rounded a corner and his pace started to slow, Elizabeth took in the phone box just down the path. The same one as from yesterday.
"No, no," she argued, dropping his hand briefly. "I saw that yesterday. It was around the other side. It just sort of vanished."
"You noticed the TARDIS?" The Doctor questioned, his voice surprised. He looked thoughtful. "Must be a hangover from the paradox machine. I thought I fixed it all.
Anyway...," he continued, opening the door.
"We can't just hide in there," Elizabeth protested. "It's just a box." The Doctor walked inside and Elizabeth looked behind her at the faceless creatures that were getting closer. She decided the box didn't sound like the world's worst option and ran inside, slamming the door shut after her. She stopped dead on her feet and looked around the large console room.
"Oh my god," she breathed for the second time that evening.
"It's called the TARDIS," the Doctor answered before she could even think up a question in her head. "Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."
"Can they get in here?" She asked worriedly, her brain struggling to take everything in.
"Trust me, nothing's getting through there," the Doctor promised. "Except maybe the odd ship," he added, shaking his head at the memory.
"Are you alien?" Elizabeth questioned.
"Weellll," the Doctor began. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Elizabeth stared around again.
"It's bigger on the inside," she breathed.
"Is it! I hadn't noticed!" The Doctor exclaimed in mock surprise.
"You're really alien?" Elizabeth asked again. The Doctor cocked his eyebrow and nodded again. "What - what type...what are you?" Elizabeth stuttered.
"I'm a Time Lord," he answered.
"Oh, right, so I guess you'd know nothing about being pompous, then?"
"You sound like Martha," he responded, giving her a look. Elizabeth decided not to ask who Martha was. It might be another alien or something and she'd met enough of them for today. She looked around around the console, taking in the enormity of it. It was shaped like a mushroom, she thought. She suddenly let out a screech.
"Oh my god, you've got a hand in a jar," she cried, pointing towards it. "A hand in a jar, sat there." OK, she made the wrong decision, she decided, at least the faceless people hadn't been carrying any hands around with them.
"Yeah, that's my hand," the Doctor answered flippantly.
"What do you mean it's your hand? You've got both your hands," she demanded.
"You really do sound like Martha," the Doctor told her.
"But you've got a hand," Elizabeth persisted. She nodded her head towards it. "There."
"Yeah, long story. Lost a hand in a sword fight a few Christmasses back."
"And you just grew another one?"
"Yeah. Pretty much did. Yeah."
"And you just decided to keep the other one?" Elizabeth wondered.
"Nah, Jack did," the Doctor explained. "I'm just making sure the hand doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Ohhhhh now that was a good pun! Hand in the wrong hands. I like that."
"What wrong hands? Like the evil Republic of Handonia or something?"
"No, but I like that, too."
"Hang on," Elizabeth protested. "Who is this Jack guy and why does he keep hands?"
"Trust me you don't want to know," the Doctor replied. "It's a long story. A hundred year long story."
"But you've still got a hand in a jar," Elizabeth continued.
"Honestly, it's fine. I just grew another one because I was still in the first part of my regeneration cycle."
"Regeneration cycle?"
"Yeah. Where I change my body. Oh, I should have said that before, that sounds much more impressive than just growing a hand."
"Doctor!"
"Sorry," the Doctor finally responded, breaking out of his daydream and looking over at her.
"The creatures, people, whatever they are," she prompted, gesturing towards the shut door.