Author's Note: I wrote this for a submission contest, but missed the deadline. Rather than sit on it and never let it out of the closet, I decided to post it here. I hope you all enjoy it. This story takes place after "Survival."
For those tracking my Danny Phantom fics, I have every intention on finishing "Do Overs," but I've been a little busy with other work. I hope to have another chapter out in a month.
FORGET ME, FORGET ME NOT
Above the clamor of the crowded convention floor, a clock ticks. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The minute hand swings down from ten to eleven. The hour hand shudders from its place above the five, but remains still. And the second hand dances across the numbers with eerie impatience.
Exposure started forty minutes ago.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
An odd little man stumbles into the room, hatless, coatless, and brolly-less. He clutches his head and reels around the room. But no one notices. The hubbub parts, allowing him entrance, then closes behind him, absorbing him in the moving mass of humanity.
Another man enters the room, his cold gaze surveying the room. He cocks his head to the side, listening for something. Frowns when he doesn't hear what he expects. After a moment, he walks over to the information booth and has a nice, comfortable chat with the woman behind the desk. She smiles, nods agreeably, and picks up the P.A. mike.
"Attention all conference attendees. Will the Doctor please come to the information desk? You have an urgent message. Again, will the Doctor please come to the information desk? You have an urgent message."
Conversation halts. Consternated glances spread around. Then, as one, over five hundred people, almost the entire list of attendees, push their way toward the booth.
Almost as one, they cry out, "I'm a doctor. What's the message?"
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Drops of cold condensation glistened in the early morning sun, hovering against the outside of the water glass. Gently, carefully, he drew his finger up the side and broke the surface tension. Trickles of water slid down his warm skin, puddling in his palm. Thoughts scattered across his brain like oil drops on a hot skillet.
And none of them belonged to him.
...never pay off my student loans...
...only as good as your last research paper...
...If we don't get that grant...
...neuro-transmitters pick up the chemical...
...Best place to pick up a date...
Medical equipment clattered in his skull. Images from Grey's Anatomy flickered behind his retinas. The remembered scent of hot surgery lights and dried blood hovered in his nostrils. A faint feminine voice called out a pulse.
A heavy sigh passed his lips.
"Are you all right?"
He looked up to find a young waitress sitting across from him. She wore a green waitress's apron over a black shirt and skirt. Green was a safe thing to focus on.
"Yes, yes." He waved off her concern. "I'm fine. What about you? Do you happen to know who you are?"
"Of course I know who I am. Why wouldn't I?"
He smiled and pointed. "You appear to be missing your nametag."
Startled, she looked down, then laughed. The sound warmed his hearts. "Oh, sorry. Of course. Dorothy McShane. But my friends call me Ace."
He took a moment to absorb the visual of the patio dining area, the scattered wrought-iron furniture, the groups of people congregating over drinks and snack food. His head pounded like a snare drum, a cut-time beat in rhythm with the opening and closing convention center doors. He watched the people come and go for a moment then turned back to her and leaned in close. "May I call you Ace."
She scooted her chair closer to his. "Of course. And you are?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon. I'm..." he hesitated. Should he say his name? A warning bell inside his head told him no. "Doctor John Smith. A pleasure."
Ace shook his extended hand. "Pleasure's all mine. So, can I get you something besides the water, then? Or do you want to continue where you left off?"
"Left off?"
"I brought you your water, you asked me to sit, and then you started telling me a story."
"I did? No, of course I did. I don't suppose I could get a cup of tea?"
"Tea coming right up. Milk and sugar with that?"
"Yes, please."
Ace bounced away, her brown ponytail flouncing a trail in the air. His chest constricted as he watched her go. So young. So sweet. So caring. She deserved better than this life. He hoped she would eventually get it.
A couple passed behind him, an older woman venting to a younger colleague. "Well of course he'd get that kind of reaction to the announcement. It's a doctor's conference, after all. Silly to say there's an urgent message for a doctor and then forget to add which doctor the message is for!"
The Doctor smirked and ducked his head. Then winced as the pain thundered back and forth for a moment. He knew he must be a sight. His fingers had dirt embedded under the nails. Singe marks decorated the sleeves of his shirt. At least one bruise bloomed across his cheek. He rubbed a hand through his thin hair, wishing for a hat to cover the growing goose-egg atop his head.
As if cued, Ace returned with his tea, already prepared, and a bag of frozen peas. "Here you go. This should fix you right up."
He accepted the peas with a shy thank-you. "I was telling you a story?"
She nodded. "About telepathic technology and the end of the world."
He balanced the peas on the lump, tried to recall exactly what story he'd been telling her, then decided it didn't matter. Just as easy to let her prompt him and spin the tale into a new one. Sadly, Ace probably wouldn't know the difference.
After all, what would a mere waitress know about such things as aliens and time travel and intergalactic information thieves?
"Oh, very well. Sit down then."
She slid in the seat opposite him, eyes shining with the eager anticipation of an armchair adventurer.
"So where was I?"
"That's what I'd like to know," she muttered.
"I beg your pardon?"
Ace choked. She bent over her lap, coughing hard. Between the swishing doors and her sudden coughs, the Doctor's headache kicked up a notch. He barely heard the sharp click of hard-soled combat boots against the patio's concrete floor as they entered, stopped, then left.
Despite his own pain, the Doctor solicitously wrapped an arm around Ace's shoulders. "There, there," he soothed. "Take a slow deep breath."
Conversation lulled. The medical professionals scattered about looked on for a moment, then returned to their own business. Ace stopped coughing and straightened.
"Thanks, Professor." She glanced over his shoulders in the direction of the glass door. "Right as rain now. So, why don't you finish that story?"
His hearts ached with the sound of the familiar, annoying nickname. But he couldn't bring himself to correct her. Just this once, he needed the comfort of the familiar. Even if that comfort only lasted a moment.
Tick, tock.
Even if he didn't have time for it.
In his head, the clock moved from five twenty-six to five twenty-seven. Thirty-three minutes to go. So little time for him to find what he'd lost and save the world again.
Ace pushed the tea towards him. "Take a sip before it gets cold. Then talk."
"About?"
"You discovered a kordrone radiation signature in late twentieth century America."
A shadow moved across the glass. The Doctor looked up to see a familiar man stalking the convention hall. Tall, reedy, and definitely not human, though he could pass for one. It was possible this was a completely different alien, but for some reason, the Doctor felt certain this was Mordachi.
Ace tapped the table. "I said, what is kordrone radiation anyway?"
"A byproduct of certain telepathic technologies. Physically harmless, but changes the physiology of the human brain, breaking down mental barriers that prevent your species from developing true psychic abilities. Ninety minutes of exposure is enough to cause permanent changes. People hear other peoples thoughts, share other people's emotions. They'll think they're hallucinating. And when it won't stop, when the voices in their heads become overwhelmingly loud, they'll lash out. Family, friends, and total strangers be murdered in the search for silence."
Ace shuddered. "Sounds terrible."
"Oh, it is." The Doctor traced another trail on the water glass. "So, where was I?"
"You located the radiation and discovered a vicious plot..." she trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip.
"A vicious plot?" he enquired.
Ace adjusted her chair, positioning herself for a clear view of the glass doors. "Well, it's your story, isn't? You're the one who's telling it."
"Oh, yes. Of course. Silly me. Well, then. This is what happened..."
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The sonic screwdriver beeped, leading the Doctor to the basement of this convention hall. Down in the dusty bowels, past piles of piping and curtains, he went. The corridors twisted, turned, and finally led him to the door of a storage room.
His shadow hissed and muttered something. The Doctor didn't quite understand it.
Opening the door revealed a two meter high pod resting upon a tripod. Lights flashed across a smooth metallic display. The Doctor recognized it instantly.
"Good Lord. A memory assimilator. What idiot would activate one on Earth?"
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"And what about...what's her name again?"
"Whose name?"
Ace sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Your loyal sidekick's."
"Who's telling this story? You or me?"
"Oh, come on, Professor. Every hero has a loyal sidekick. Who's yours?"
He reached for a brolly he didn't have. The peas slid off his head at the sudden motion. Catching the bag with one hand and grabbing his tea cup with the other, he impulsively snapped out, "My loyal sidekick, Ace, wandered off despite strict instructions otherwise. She disappeared when I needed her most! Why can't any of them just do as they're told?"
Flaring scarlet, Ace grabbed the end of her ponytail and stared at her split ends. Under her breath, she mumbled something that sounded like vaguely like an apology.
"What was that?"
Ace leaned back, staring at the glass doors. "Maybe she saw the bad guy. He might have been fiddling with a transmat device or something and she wanted to prevent his escape."
The Doctor straightened in his chair. "And what would you know about transmats, young lady?"
Ace blinked. "Um, you mentioned them earlier. That's how you got here, right? Some sort of teleportation device?"
"Did I? I think I forgot about that bit. Just as well my companion did run off, though," he added, a heavy feeling in his chest. "If she'd been with me, she would have died."
Ace rested her chin in her hand. "Drink your tea, Professor, before it gets cold. Best thing for a concussion is a good, hot cuppa."
The Doctor took a swig, wincing as the doors opened to admit a chattering group of half-drunk residents. The tea wormed its way into the Doctor's senses, teasing them back to life. The heavy scent of rain and spring, the sweet and bitter taste of freshly harvested leaves. After only two swallows, the headache begin receding. "Ah."
"Better, yeah?"
"Definitely."
Checking her watch, then the doors, Ace smiled at him. "So. Finishing the story would be good, yes?"
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The device was specifically calibrated to absorb medical knowledge. Though why anyone would need to steal that information, and from a primitive civilization like Earth, he couldn't fathom. Intent on deactivating the device, he failed to notice the flashed warning of instability in the storage circuitry. He turned on his sonic screwdriver, aimed it at the pod's fastenings, and the world exploded around him.
He didn't remember moving. Just slamming into the wall face first.
Concrete rain pelted down. Lights shattered, glass bits flying everywhere. Darkness smashed across the room. Voiceless voices clamored for attention. Random memories assaulted his mind.
Dazed, the Doctor removed his coat, covering his head and face against the still-falling debris. He struggled to maintain his mental protections against the mass of un-guarded human minds. Hard-soled combat boots clicked against the floor as someone came running at the sound. The Doctor struggled to his feet, his coat still covering his face.
A voice cursed. A light shined in the Doctor's direction. "Who are you? Why have you destroyed the assimilator?"
"I'm the Doctor. Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"I am Mordachi, agent of The Sanction. You, Doctor, have interfered with an authorized data dump. I'll kill you for this!"
"Why does everyone say that to me?" the Doctor groaned.
The sharp whistle of a charging gun warned him. Throwing his coat in Mordachi's direction, the Doctor turned and ran.
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"No," the Doctor whispered to himself. "That's not right. I lost something. What did I lose?" He dropped the peas to the table. Took another sip of tea.
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The corridors twisted, turned, and finally led him to the door of a storage room. His shadow hissed and muttered something. The Doctor didn't quite understand it. Then the shadow disappeared.
No. Not a shadow. Ace. She said something he didn't hear and then ran off.
And...
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"And?" Ace prompted.
The convention center doors swished open and combat boots once again clicked against the floor.
The Doctor wrapped both hands around his cup and watched the patio's reflections in its murky surface. "And I think I lost my hat."
"No worries. I've an idea where to look."
"Ace," he said, savoring the name. Recognition finally wormed its way past the voices in his head.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"I think you've lost your backpack."
Her eyes lit up as a broad grin crossed her face. "It's behind the counter with your hat."
"Brolly and coat too?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Well, then. What are you sitting here for? Go fetch them, get rid of that ridiculous apron, and stop calling me 'Professor.' My name is the Doctor!" he proclaimed.
"Good to know," Mordachi said over the sharp whistle of his gun.
The Doctor turned and tossed his tea in Mordachi's face.
The agent flinched as the cold liquid splashed across his eyes and nose. He licked his lips and raised his gun.
"Everyone," the Doctor shouted. "Run!"
Humans being humans, most of them stayed frozen in dumbfounded stupor. Only a handful had the sense to run for the doors.
Ace, though, had other ideas.
She jumped Mordachi, forcing the gun's point upward. The blast shredded the patio umbrella. The Doctor stepped forward and knocked him out with a quick chop to the neck. Mordachi fell to the ground and Ace claimed the gun.
The Doctor smiled charmingly at the gaping crowd. "I don't suppose I could borrow someone's mobile?"
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The pair barely waited for U.N.I.T.'s arrival on the scene before heading downstairs to the TARDIS. Ace hugged the Doctor's arm as they walked.
"How do you feel?"
He squeezed her arm in return. "Like I've been missing myself for decades."
"Welcome back."
The Doctor smiled. "It's good be back."
"You'd better not do that again or I'll have to do you a damage."
He laughed. "Don't worry, Ace. I wouldn't dare vanish on you again. I've got too many things to do."