Okay, here it is, the rest of the story I had, called "untitled so far"--look, it's even got a title! This is completely unlike anything I've ever attempted to write before, so please be kind and enjoy. : )
Background no doubt sorely needed since there's probably not that many Whovians who are also Imaniacs and vice versa (in fact, why am I even bothering with this I don't know…)
Doctor Who
was a British sci fi show, in which the main character (the Doctor) came from the planet Gallifrey—he was a Time Lord, and he could travel through time and space in his TARDIS, which happens to be shaped like a blue police box—kinda like a telephone box, but not really. Oh yeah, the TARDIS is bigger (waaay bigger) on the inside than the outside. He normally has at least one travelling companion along with him, and in this case it's Marc Davis, a college student from St. Louis. The Rani is mentioned; she's one of the Doc's enemies.The modern version of The Invisible Man is about Darien Fawkes, a thief who gets caught and instead of spending his time in jail, ends up as an experiment in invisibility. He gets the quicksilver gland implanted in his brain which allows him to go see-through, but if he doesn't get a shot of counteragent every so often, he could go quicksilver mad. Not pretty. He works for a mysterious Agency that pretends to be part of the Fish and Game Dept. with his partner Bobby Hobbes, under his boss called The Official (who has a know-it-all sidekick called Eberts, and has a Keeper named Claire—she watches over him, gives him his shots, that kind of thing.
This story is written purely for entertainment purposes—in fact, I'll probably be the only one entertained. The characters are not mine, and I make no money off of this.
Appearances (and Disappearances)
"You never can tell."—The Doctor, Paradise Towers
"Damn," Darien hissed, ducking behind a dumpster. "Hobbes, what the hell are you thinking?" He peeked over the top of the dumpster again and ducked back instinctively when another bullet whizzed past.
Darien Fawkes was in the unfortunate position of being in the middle of a gunfight. Literally. Hobbes at one end of the alley, the guy they'd been following since yesterday at the other end, and Darien smack in the middle.
The Official had been positively excited about this case, something that had immediately made Darien suspicious. A dangerous foreign criminal no other government agency had been willing to touch had been spotted in San Diego, and the Fatman had assigned Fawkes and Hobbes to tail the man, find out why he was in this particular city of this particular country, and arrest him at an appropriate time.
Unfortunately, the man (known as Erick) had realized he was being followed and had started firing off a gun in the bar he'd been drinking in. Thankfully he'd run out back before seriously injuring anyone, and Hobbes and Fawkes had given chase.
And now Darien was beginning to wonder if either his partner or this Erick would ever stop shooting at each other. He was readying himself to quicksilver and risk disarming the man when an entirely unexpected event occurred.
"STOP!"
The alley abruptly silenced. Darien blinked, his ears ringing and his heart still pounding. He hadn't thought anyone could yell that loud.
Someone stepped halfway out of the shadows, feet clacking on the pavement, water dripping loudly down the sides of the buildings around him. Darien peered into the darkness, trying to get a glimpse of the newcomer.
"Stop this," the stranger repeated quietly but with so much anger his voice shook. He was tallish and thin and his clothes looked wrong somehow, but Darien couldn't make him out very well because he stayed close to the shadows. He didn't seem particularly dangerous.
"I know who you are," the man said clearly.
There was a long pause. Fawkes knew Hobbes was confused, thinking fast, considering his options, his gun wavering between his original opponent and this new man. Darien very quietly and very literally disappeared. He didn't think the stranger had seen him hiding behind the dumpster, and he planned to keep it that way.
"Not that easy, Doctor," said Erick softly and ran away, feet thudding on the ground.
"Wait!" the stranger yelled and broke into a run after the other man.
"I've got it, Hobbes!" Darien yelled and chased after the other two men.
Pounding feet on pavement and heavy breathing were the only sounds Darien could hear as he ran after Erick and the stranger. He hoped this chase would be short; he didn't know how much time he had left before he needed the counteragent, but he didn't think it was much.
He saw the stranger gain on Erick, pull him to a stop, and then saw Erick punch the newcomer in the stomach a couple times. "Oomf," the man said, bent over and staggering. The other man ran on and leapt into a car.
"Aw crap," Darien muttered, hesitating between the stranger and the now-starting car with Erick. At that moment he saw headlights swing towards him and jumped out of the street, pulling the other man with him just in time to avoid being run over by Hobbes and the van.
Darien turned back to the stranger. He leant against a brick wall, still holding his stomach and gasping, but seeming to stare right at Darien. Darien shivered and stepped back a ways from the strange man, unaccountably afraid.
The man took a single deep breath, pushed himself away from the wall, and began jogging again, at a more measured pace and in the opposite direction.
For want of anything else to do, Darien followed him.
* * *
The man led Fawkes to another alley. He paused by a large, dark box that Darien could barely make out in the darkness, then put a key in the lock and opened the double doors.
Darien was by now quite adept at slipping in doors behind people before they had a chance to close them. He was still congratulating himself on doing this yet again when his surroundings began to sink in.
The room was huge.
Darien gasped. It was a Victorian Gothic monstrosity of a room with armchairs and bookcases and candles everywhere and clocks and a garden and streetlights and—he couldn't take it all in. It was impossible. He barely managed to stop himself saying anything aloud.
"Mark!" the man called out sharply, stepping more fully into the room, still breathing hard. Darien just barely managed to jump out of his way as he stomped down to the many-sided console in the middle of the room. He yelled again in an even more angry and insistent tone, "Mark!"
A young woman, barely out of her teens, skidded into the room. "Doc?" she asked, an interesting assortment of emotions crossing her face, ranging from fear to exasperation to concern. "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"
"I was right. He's here."
Darien's attention was dragged back to the people and away from the remarkable room. He inched closer to the man and waited to hear more.
The girl—this Mark? Darien wondered—went up to the console and stood near the man. "Who's here?" she asked. Yeah, I'd like to know too, Darien thought grimly.
"You remember the distress call we received?" The girl nodded. Distress call? What the hell-- "It was a fake. He wanted me to come here."
"Who's 'he'?" The girl sounded exasperated. Darien couldn't blame her.
The man sighed deeply. "His name is Erick." Darien's ears pricked up at that. "He…well, he wants to kill me," the man added honestly.
While Darien was surprised, the girl seemed unconcerned. "So what else is new?" she said acerbically.
"I suppose he feels he has a right. I…his family…I couldn't save his family. They died because of me."
The girl's face hardened, then became sympathetic. Darien was finding these two characters most intriguing.
"He's tried to kill me a couple times before, on other planets. Now he's on Earth and doesn't care who he hurts. We have to stop him, Marc."
On other planets? On Earth? What the hell does that mean?!
She nodded. "What happened out there?" she nodded toward the doors.
"I walked into the middle of a gun fight. Apparently he's already made a name for himself here on Earth and the authorities were alerted to his presence. In fact," the man suddenly frowned, "there was something odd going on back there. I could have sworn I noticed two people in the alley besides Erick and yet…" he trailed off, his frown deepening. "Somebody pulled me out of the way of that van being driven by the man who'd been shooting back at Erick," he said slowly, pacing around the console. "But there was no one in the passenger seat. And I didn't see who helped me…"
Ohhhh crap.
"Doc?" the girl said, worry etching lines in her forehead. "What're you talking about? A firefight? Getting run over? Are you hurt?"
"Only winded when Erick hit me…but who helped me?" The man looked up, looked around the huge room, then looked directly into Darien's eyes. Darien panicked and ran for the doors.
"I know you're here." The man's clear voice, just like the tone he'd used on Erick, stopped Darien in his tracks. He slowly turned around and faced this stranger again, who was thankfully still looking where Darien had previously been standing. "I can feel you. You might as well show yourself."
"What the hell—" the girl muttered, utter confusion on her face.
"I said show yourself!" said the man, his face stone.
"Oh crap," Darien sighed and appeared out of nowhere.
* * *
Marc stared in shock at the man who had just appeared out of nowhere. He was shaking silvery flakes off himself, looking sheepish. He was tall and thin, in a black leather jacket and khakis, his hair long and thick and as dark as his eyes.
The Doctor watched the man like a hawk. "Thank you for saving my life," the Time Lord said when the man stilled. "I am the Doctor. This is my friend, Marcella Davis. Who are you?"
"I'm Darien." He actually sounded embarrassed. "Darien Fawkes."
"How'd you do that?" Marc couldn't stop herself from asking. She looked over at the Doctor. "I thought you said we were on Earth!"
"We are. San Diego California, the year 2000 to be exact."
The man stood awkwardly in the room, hands in his pockets and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Look, I'm sorry to butt in like this, but can I leave now?" he said. "I've gotta find my partner, make sure he's okay, still tailing the guy, that kind of thing."
"You mean Erick?" Darien nodded. "I think you should leave him to us, Mr Fawkes. He is a dangerous man."
"I know he is," Darien said, "I've read the files. Look, I'd love to just hand the guy over to you, but then I'd have to explain to Hobbes and the Fatman and I really wouldn't want to do that."
"Then you must allow us to help you catch and stop him. It's me he's after; he won't stop till he's gotten to me!"
Darien stared at the Doctor and didn't know what to say. The man's clothes were even odder, now that he could see them properly. A long, dark velvet frock coat, a paisley vest and wing collar, cravat and watch chain and baggy trousers. His eyes were pale and deep, his voice soft. The girl—Marcella, Marc, whatever—was medium height, her skin very pale and her short, straight, silky hair very black. She had incredibly blue eyes, and she was dressed in all black: black trench coat, black slacks, black high-heeled boots. She looked out of place in the crazy room, as out of place as Darien felt—the Doctor at least fit in with what Darien assumed was his home. "How'd you know I was here?" Darien asked.
"I could feel your presence," the Doctor said so seriously Darien didn't even feel like laughing at him.
"Yeah, well, that's great but I have to go now." He checked the snake tattoo under his watch and winced. "Really have to go now."
"Why?"
Darien didn't want to go into that right now. "Look, you two had better come with me," he sighed. "I've got to find out what's going on, and you two have some explaining to do."
"Where do you want to go?"
"The dept. of Fish and Game." He rattled off the address, then added, "Why?"
"I can get you there two minutes ago."
Marc looked at the Doctor and shook her head wearily.
"Oh really." Fawkes didn't sound very convinced.
The Time Lord didn't answer, merely manipulated some controls on the console. Marc smiled slightly at Darien's look of confusion and sat down in a nearby armchair.
"What are you doing?" Darien asked.
"Getting you to your agency."
The government agent folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah. Right."
The time rotor in the center of the console glided to a halt. The Doctor looked up at Marc through the glass and rods and gave her a tiny smile. She smiled back. He flicked the switch, opened the doors.
Darien went up to the doors and glanced out casually, then looked again. "Christ," he whispered. The darkened hallways of the Agency stood outside the box. He spun around again. "How'd you do that?"
"I could well ask you the same thing," the Doctor answered levelly.
Darien winced. "Come on. I've got a couple calls to make."
Marc and the Doctor followed Darien outside.
* * *
A half-hour later the small group, joined by the Keeper (as the young blonde Briton was sometimes called by Darien), stood in the basement lab. Darien rubbed his arms absently where Claire had just given him his shot.
"So you mean…you can just turn invisible at will," Marc said stupidly.
"You saw," Darien answered, then winced. "Pardon the pun."
"That's crazy,' the girl whispered.
"Is it?" said Darien. "What about your friend's—box?" He flicked a thumb at the Doctor, who was talking to Claire's menagerie of animals. "You don't think that's just a little weird?"
"Yeah, but that's just alien," Marc shrugged. "You're from home. Earth—my time, just about."
Darien blinked. "He's an alien," he said, in the exact same tone Marc had used about his invisibility.
"Oh, in some ways I'm positively a native," said the Doctor as he wandered over to rejoin the group. "Very interesting. I didn't realize you had come so far in the study of invisibility."
Claire studied the Doctor intently. "I've seen your picture before…" she said, frowning. "Something to do with the military, I think…"
"The military?" Marc and Darien chorused, staring at the Doctor.
"UNIT, I expect," the Doctor answered, grinning at the Keeper. "Ever heard of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart?"
"I don't think so…but UNIT sounds familiar. I remember glancing over some files from them…of course! You're that Doctor, aren't you?"
The Time Lord shrugged modestly. Darien looked between Claire and the Doctor and said, "Would someone mind filling me in?"
"Yeah," Marc agreed acerbically.
"I occasionally worked—still do a bit, I suppose—for UNIT, the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce."
"Oh." Darien paused. "Never heard of it."
"It's top secret," Claire explained. "The only reason I heard about it was because they'd been doing some experiments that helped me cure Gloria."
Fawkes nodded. "Uh-huh. Now, about this Erick," he said, swinging his feet over the side of the reclining chair he always sat in for his shot. "Who exactly is he, Doctor?"
"He's from the planet Clithenes. The Rani was there, doing experiments on the people, and I stopped her—unfortunately, not soon enough for Erick's family." The Doctor's voice softened. "And that was after I promised to save them."
"When was this?" Marc asked quietly, drawing him out of his reverie.
"Oh, a while ago. Lace was still with me at the time, as was Alan. I met up with Erick a couple times right after that but haven't heard from him since—until now."
"Why did he come here?" Darien asked.
"You mean this planet?"
The ex-thief shrugged, unwilling to agree to the preposterous question but unable to completely disagree with it either.
"He knows it's one of my favorite planets. I can't allow him to keep hurting people." The Doctor's face was impassive but Darien didn't particularly like his tone of voice.
Claire turned to Darien. "Did you get in touch with Hobbes?"
Darien nodded. "He lost Erick, so he's coming back here. We have to talk to the Official anyway." He glanced over at Marc and the Doctor. "That includes you two, you know."
"Oh we know," Marc assured him. "We're used to it."
Darien raised his eyebrows. "What she means is," beamed the Doctor, "we often have to explain ourselves to those in authority."
Darien shook his head as he looked at the odd pairing. "And I thought the people who worked here were loonies."
"Hey!" The Keeper slapped his shoulder.
"Who the hell are you two anyway?" Darien said, ignoring her.
"Told you. He's the Doc, I'm Marc." The girl turned to the Doctor. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around introducing me as Marcella," she added in an aggrieved tone.
"Sorry," said the Doctor.
"What was that—box?" Darien persisted. "How does it work? You're an alien?"
"Please try not to hold it against me," the Doctor answered blandly. "The 'box' as you call it is my TARDIS—a time/space machine. Marc here is from a couple years in your subjective past—1998 or so—and I'm from the planet Gallifrey. You wouldn't understand how the old girl works, believe me, unless you have a degree in temporal mechanics, and I find that highly unlikely."
Marc shrugged. "You just kinda go on blind faith," she explained, "and tell yourself you'll sort it all out later."
The Doctor wandered back to Claire's animals. She followed him, keeping a wary eye on his movements. Marc and Darien watched them and simultaneously shook their heads.
"So you're a government agent?" Marc said, one half of her mouth curving up in a smile. "That surprises me."
"Yeah? Why?"
"Not exactly a Man in Black are you?" she said, gesturing to his t-shirt and khakis. "Still, I'm the one travelling around the space-time continuum with a guy in velvet who can't keep track of what he puts in his own pockets. What do I have to complain about?"
"I wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for the gland," Darien found himself telling her. "I should be in jail. I'm a thief. Or at least," he amended, "I was."
She looked surprised. "Wow."
"You don't look like the type to be wandering around the space-time continuum you know," he pointed out in return as he shrugged back into his black leather jacket.
She laughed. "I'm not," she admitted. "I should be studying for my midterms, back in St. Louis."
"You're a college student?"
Marc nodded. "Sophomore—majoring in history. That's probably the most interesting fact about my life. And before this, probably the most dangerous or interesting thing I did was go to Canada once."
Darien blinked, and their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Hobbes into the room. "Well, hello," Hobbes grinned at Marc. "I don't believe we've met."
Marc grinned back at him and held out her hand to shake. "Hi. I'm Marc."
"And why are you here, Mar—" Hobbes saw the Doctor and stopped. "What's he doing here?"
"He says he knows Erick. He also says Erick's being violent to get back at him. Oh yeah, by the way, he's called the Doctor."
Hobbes frowned. "What?"
"Erick does not belong here," the Doctor said. "I broke a promise to him, and his family died. This is his revenge against me."
"Killing other people?"
"Knowing I feel responsible for their deaths," the Doctor answered quietly.
Hobbes nodded slowly, then turned back to Darien. "The Official's here. He wants to talk with us. You'd better come too," he added to the Doctor.
The Doctor nodded. "Come along Marc." He headed for the door and stopped when no one followed.
"You're with him?" Hobbes asked her.
She grinned again, nodding. "Sorry," she shrugged.
Darien rolled his eyes and pulled Hobbes toward the door. "See ya, Claire," he called over his shoulder.
"Lovely meeting you," said the Doctor as he followed the partners.
"Bye," Marc gave her a little wave and also left.
The Keeper shook her head. "Very strange," she said aloud and went back to work.
* * *
"So you know Erick?" said the Fatman.
The Doctor nodded, prowling around the Official's office. The Official's sidekick Eberts followed him, adjusting the pictures the Doctor slanted, putting things back in their proper place after the Doctor moved them, and the like. Marc and Darien were sitting down, Darien sprawled with his legs stretched out, Marc with her legs calmly crossed and her hands in her lap. Hobbes hovered near them, occasionally glancing down at Marc appreciatively.
"I got to know him quite well a few years back—he was helping me defeat the Rani. But when he saw how his family died, he…snapped. Blamed me for not getting to them in time and saving them. He's been very disturbed ever since."
"How do I know I can believe you?"
The Doctor slowed down, gradually stopped moving. Eberts breathed a sigh of relief. "I worked with UNIT in the seventies," said the Doctor. "I suggest you contact their British HQ, or perhaps Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. He'll vouch for me. Your Keeper has even heard of me." The Doctor stared the Official down. "You can believe me."
"In the seventies?" the Fatman snorted. "You would have been a kid back then."
"Actually, I was a white-haired middle-aged man but that's beside the point."
The Doctor remained holding the Official's gaze without blinking or cracking a smile. Darien slid further down in his seat. Marc frowned slightly, as if struggling to imagine the Doctor with white hair.
"You think you can help us?" the Official changed the subject after the silence had stretched into oppressiveness.
The Doctor nodded sharply. "All right," the older man continued. "I'll call your Brigadier. In the meantime, find Erick. I want to know what he's going to do next."
The small group shuffled out of the office. Hobbes and the Doctor went to the agent's office to pick up some equipment; Darien and Marc agreed to meet them at the van parked outside.
"Must be weird travelling with him," Darien said.
"Must be weird to go invisible," Marc retorted.
"Yeah, but at least I don't run into BEMs a lot. Of course, some of the stuff I've seen the past few months would probably rival travelling through time and space…" Darien shook his head.
"It's unbelievable, isn't it?" Marc said suddenly as they walked out the door. The sun was starting to come up, brilliant and fiery oranges and reds and dark clouds visible behind the tall buildings. "It's absurd. Dreamlike. But you find yourself just accepting it and moving on."
"Yeah," Darien agreed, thinking about his own situation. "I guess you're right." He laughed. "But I have to admit, meeting aliens is a helluva lot weirder than going invisible."
"Oh, not really," Marc grinned. "It's just meeting aliens on Earth is the weird bit. Anywhere else they wouldn't be aliens."
Darien was about to come up with a sarcastic retort when something—someone—flew at him, coming from out of nowhere. He didn't even have time to hit back before he found himself falling to the ground, stunned.
"Fawkes!" he heard Marc's voice scream, but it was oddly muzzy, far away. He tried to open his eyes and could make out blurry shapes struggling in the sunrise, one being dragged away by another. They disappeared as his eyes fluttered closed.
He blacked out.
* * *
"Fawkes! Fawkes, dammit, wake up, buddy."
Darien slowly and cautiously opened his eyes. He was still lying on the pavement outside the agency—he couldn't have been out long; the sun hadn't changed position in the sky. Hobbes appeared in his line of sight, kneeling over him, holding Darien's head in his lap. Darien winced.
"Not again," he groaned. He remembered Marc. "Marc!" He tried to sit up and instantly dizziness and throbbing pain crashed over him. He groaned again and fell back, a hand automatically moving to a spot on the back of his head that hurt the most.
Hobbes helped him sit up slowly. "The Doctor's searching for her. We were just leaving the building when we heard her scream. Was it Erick?"
"Who the hell else would it be? How'd he find us? How'd he know the Doctor and Marc were with us? How—"
"We'll figure that out later," Hobbes answered. "Let's get you to the Keeper." He and Darien staggered into a standing position, then stumbled back into the building. Hobbes deposited Fawkes with a concerned Keeper, then went back out to find the Doctor and report to the Official.
"This is becoming a habit Darien," Claire chided him as she fussed over the back of his head.
"Don't blame me; blame the people who keep beating me up," Darien defended himself. "You think I like this?"
A few minutes later they were rejoined by Hobbes and the Doctor, whose forehead was creased in worry. "Couldn't find them," Hobbes reported. "Official's pissed."
"Of course he is," said Fawkes. He looked over at the Doctor. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He came out of nowhere—"
"Not your fault," the Doctor said heavily, sitting in the Keeper's chair by her computer. "Mine." All the energy seemed drained out of him, which just made Darien feel even guiltier.
"We have to find them," Hobbes said. Before Darien could reply No shit, Sherlock, the older partner continued, pacing around the lab, "They won't go back to his hotel room; he must know we know where that is. He'll take her someplace new, secluded, not obvious—where would he go?"
The Doctor stood up and also began pacing. They miraculously managed to avoid each other, each wrapped up in his own thoughts. The Keeper and Darien watched them, Darien rubbing cautiously at the tender spot on his head.
"His spaceship," the Doctor abruptly ground to a halt. "Of course! That will have to be somewhere secluded-he daren't let anyone see it—and he probably won't have been back there since landing here on Earth, or else he'd draw attention to it and himself."
"Spaceship?" Hobbes scoffed.
Darien's head was killing him. "How can we find it?" he asked.
"Easy. I'll scan the city for any unusual metal alloys, energy signatures, something of that sort."
"And then we'll go in, grab the girl, and arrest Erick," said Hobbes.
"Piece of cake," Darien agreed sarcastically.
* * *
The Doctor sat in the back of the van. Hobbes was not happy about this, or about Darien's plan. The more experienced agent was driving them to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, the place the Doctor had pinpointed from inside his large blue box.
"You can't go in there alone," Hobbes insisted. "You need backup."
"He'll see you. If I go in there invisible, he won't know a thing. You need to stay outside, have the van ready to move when I get Marc out, so don't even think about asking me to turn you invisible."
"Look, he just hit you over the head; you're not—"
"I'm fine," Darien said through gritted teeth. His head was actually pounding in time with his heartbeat, which was going a bit too fast for his liking, but he wasn't about to tell Hobbes that. He finished adjusting the mic in his ear.
Hobbes parked and looked over at Darien. "This is a bad plan, Fawkes. Really bad. I don't like it."
"Neither do I, but it's the best any of us have come up with on the drive over here. Trust me, okay?"
Hobbes scowled but didn't answer. Darien took a deep breath, quicksilvered, disappeared from sight. He opened and shut the door.
Hobbes jumped out of the van and walked around to the back. He began to open the back door. "Look Doctor, I know Darien'll get Marc out—" he stopped. "Doctor, you in there?"
The Doctor didn't answer.
Hobbes swore as he looked inside the back. The Doctor had disappeared as effectively as Fawkes.
* * *
The Doctor stealthily slipped into the warehouse and looked around, all his senses alert. All of them. He knew Darien was nearby and wondered if the invisible man knew he was close.
The Doctor went exploring.
* * *
Marc was scared out of her mind. Erick—a large, dark man, not in skin color but in presence—had pushed her into a small room, presumably what had been an office but was now completely bare, and disappeared. He came back soon after that and watched her.
She couldn't breathe. Her heart felt like it would explode out of her chest. She couldn't even cry she was so scared.
"How," said Erick, his voice shaking with rage, "can you stand to travel with that man?"
She didn't want to look at him. She couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry about your family," she started, her own voice shaking but for different reasons, when he interrupted her.
"Are you? What do you know about it? He killed my family. How can you like him, travel with him, knowing what he does to innocent people?!"
"It wasn't his fault!" Marc screamed back, the fear breaking out suddenly in a rush. She stood in a corner of the room, tense, trying to hold herself in, make herself less obvious. "He tried to save them, he did! The Rani—"
"He tried did he." The man's bitter tones spilled over and stopped Marc. "He used them, left them there to trap that bitch, and then he let them die. He didn't give a damn. Why should he? They weren't his parents, his siblings. He didn't give a damn!" He sneered at her in contempt. "Now it's your turn to be used—you're the trap. The Doctor will pay."
Marc wanted to sob, to cry out, to beat him up, but she couldn't do anything. "Why?" she asked under her breath, so softly she didn't think he'd hear.
"Why you? Because you're travelling with that man. I knew that law officer was following me after the Doctor interrupted our gunfight; it was easy to lose him and then start following him, right back to his agency. I saw you come out with the other officer and knew you had to be a companion of the Doctor's. He can't resist trying to find me and save you. He always has to be the hero." Erick's voice was losing control. "But he let my family die anyway. He let them die…" his tone was tragic, not incensed anymore.
There was a crash from outside the room, and instantly Erick was alert, angry again. "If that's him, come here to save you," Erick said to Marc, "he won't get the chance."
He left the room, locking the door behind him.
Marc slid to the floor, too numb to feel anything.
* * *
Darien saw the Doctor wandering around the warehouse nonchalantly, tripped over a crack in the pavement floor he hadn't noticed, fell into some empty metal barrels that crashed against each other, and cursed out loud. The Doctor glanced over in his direction and walked toward the fallen barrels.
"I thought you'd need my help," the Doctor said quietly. "You can make objects other than yourself invisible, can't you?"
"Yes," Darien hissed, looking around frantically, knowing Erick would come investigating any moment—if the Doctor's information was correct and the guy was here of course. "Why?"
"Quick. Make me invisible."
Darien paused, then said, "I ask again. Why?"
"So I can help you."
"How?"
The Doctor sighed in exasperation. "I'll distract him. You get Marc out. Do it. Now."
Darien looked around again. "Crap." He stepped up to the Doctor, touched his velvet sleeve. "The effect won't last long after I let you go," Darien warned, watching the Doctor stare at his sleeve where Darien held it, the indentation from the invisible hand. "A few minutes, max."
"That'll be enough. Quickly!"
Darien felt the quicksilver flow through his fingertips, saw the Doctor's eyes widen in childlike surprise.
A second later Erick appeared.
* * *
"Doctor!" Erick called, looking around the huge, empty main room of the warehouse. His ship was in a smaller back room, hopefully unfound by the Time Lord. Erick saw the barrels on the floor, no longer stacked, and smiled slightly in anticipation. "Where are you Doctor? I know you're here!" His voice softened, became grim. "We can end this now."
"Are you sure?" the Doctor's voice called back seemingly from nowhere and everywhere. Erick frowned, peering into all the dark corners, the shadows and nooks where the Doctor could hide, but couldn't find the man. "Are you sure you want this to end? What will happen when I die, Erick? What will you have left?"
"The knowledge that finally my family's killer will be dead."
"You know I'm not your family's killer," the Doctor's voice caressed the still air surrounding Erick, full of compassion and pity. "Killing me won't bring them back, Erick. You were such a good student, a wonderful young man when I met you. You don't have to blame me for your family's death. Or do you blame me? Do you really blame yourself? Is that it? Do you feel you should have done more, saved them? Is that it, Erick? Is it? You can't face your own guilt?"
"Shut up!" Erick yelled, frustrated. He still couldn't see the Doctor.
"It's true, isn't it?" The Doctor's voice was soft, angry and compassionate, and he sounded as if he were standing right next to Erick. Erick shivered in the sudden cold and pulled out his gun.
"No, Doctor," Erick seethed. "I know whose fault it is. You killed my family! You!" He began firing wildly, a small part of him hoping to hit the Doctor with a stray bullet and find him out that way, another part of him, too small to be obeyed, horrified at how he was acting.
Something cold seemed to touch him for a moment and then was gone. "Damn you Doctor!" Erick shouted. "Come out!" He ran back to the office to find the girl and drag her out, use her as bait for the Doctor—just as he had used Erick's family as bait.
She had disappeared.
* * *
Marc could hear something scraping at the door. The lock clicked. She stood up slowly, staying in her corner, and stared so hard at the slowly-opening door her vision blurred. She could hear distant voices, in another part of the warehouse, but she ignored them.
There was no one behind the door. "Hey," said a soft male voice. "It's me. You okay?"
"Darien?" Marc was surprised to hear her voice quiver. She thought that only happened in books. "Is that you? Darien, where are you?"
"Right here, Marc." She felt something cold and almost skinlike on her hand. She grabbed his invisible hand and squeezed it, really wishing for a hug.
He gave her one. She held onto him tightly, not giving a damn she couldn't see him, not giving a damn she'd only met him a few hours before. She just closed her eyes and hung onto someone familiar and comforting. And then she felt something slide over her skin, something cold and wet and silver, and she gasped aloud.
"It's okay," he whispered in her ear, still holding her tightly. "I'm making you invisible. The Doctor's outside, distracting Erick. Hobbes is with the van. Can you move?"
"Get out of here you mean?" Marc whispered back shakily. "Definitely." She opened her eyes cautiously and was weirded out by having black-and-white vision. She heard gunshots and shivered.
"Wicked," she whispered as she looked around, for a moment simply caught up in this new sensation and situation. Darien held her hand and led her out of the office, locking and closing the door quietly behind them.
Just in time. Erick came running toward them. Darien placed a hand over Marc's mouth before she could gasp out loud and drew her silently out of the way. When Erick opened the door and didn't see her, he let out a bellow of rage, slammed it shut, and yelled to the warehouse at large, "I will kill you Doctor!" He ran further into the warehouse.
"Stay here," Darien told Marc and ran after Erick.
A back door slammed shut; Darien ran over to it and opened it again, sunlight spilling into the building. Darien looked all around outside but couldn't see the criminal anywhere. He cursed and said into his mic, "Hobbes, he got away, but we found Marc. Do you see him?"
"No," said Hobbes. "Do you know which way he went?"
"It's all right," said the Doctor's voice from behind Darien. Darien turned around and found Marc clinging fiercely to the Doctor, tears streaming down her face. The Doctor had an arm around her shoulders, supporting her, his voice shaky but firm. "We'll find him."
"How?" Hobbes muttered.
"I put a tracking device on him," the Doctor explained loudly, so Hobbes could hear him. "And I've just disabled his ship. I think we should leave this place."
"Yeah," Dairen said, looking at Marc. He appeared suddenly before the other two, shaking off quicksilver flakes. "I think we should too."
* * *
Hobbes drove them back to the agency in silence. Marc and the Doctor sat in the back, tears still tracking down her face as reaction and shock set in. She'd never been in such a position before. She remembered the time she'd wrecked her car her junior year of high school. She'd been remarkably uninjured but had spent the whole day breaking into tears, shaky and numb and scared and shell-shocked. That was how she felt now, only ten times worse.
"I'm sorry," said the Doctor very quietly.
She looked up at him, sniffling, trying to control her tears. His face was crumpled into the saddest, guiltiest, most compassionate look she'd ever seen on a face. She didn't feel up to smiling yet but she nodded at him and took his hand for a quick squeeze.
The van stopped. Hobbes opened the back doors, and the two partners faced the two companions seriously. "Now what?" Hobbes said.
"We finish this," the Doctor said, letting go of Marc's hand. "Now. No more. Mr Hobbes, will you accompany me?"
"Uh, just where will I be?" Darien asked, raising a hand.
"Yeah, and me?" Marc said, staring at the Doctor, face dirty from tears.
"You'll be watching over Marc," the Doctor told the agent. "Please."
Darien looked over at the college student. "Sure."
Marc looked angry. "I don't need looking after," she snapped at the Time Lord. "Thanks for not asking me to go with you, but if you're gonna do your usual thing and get your ass kicked, then you should at least take as many people with you as you can who can help you!"
The Doctor smiled at her reassuringly. "Think of him as a bodyguard. Erick might try to get you again, and if we don't find him first, I don't want him finding you instead. Okay?"
"Doctor—" Her unusually blue eyes burned in her pale face.
The Doctor stared her down. "No one else gets hurt." They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Darien and Hobbes shifted uncomfortably, not knowing where to look.
Marc relented unwillingly, breaking her gaze away and telling him gruffly, "Okay. But be careful."
"Do you still have that spare TARDIS key I gave you?" he asked her and she nodded. "All right, Mr Hobbes, shall we be on our way?"
The Doctor moved to the front seat of the van, sitting next to Hobbes. Marc closed the door behind the Time Lord and stared at him, her exotic blue eyes fiery with an emotion the Doctor couldn't make out. "I'm sorry," she said.
He looked at her angrily. "Don't be," he said. "You have no right to be. Erick should be sorry; I should be, for getting you into that mess. Not you."
"We should go," Hobbes said.
"Hey," Darien said, leaning into the van on Hobbes's side. "Be careful."
Hobbes snorted. "Always my friend." Darien and Marc each stepped away from the van on their opposite sides, and the vehicle pulled away. Marc stood still, watching the van until it turned out of sight. She kept facing the same way. Darien joined her.
"They'll be okay," he said.
"Oh I know they will," Marc said without looking at him. "Doc's good about things like that."
"So's Hobbes."
"No, I just feel like an ass," Marc continued and headed abruptly into the agency building.
"Don't," Darien told her firmly. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't forget that." He laughed slightly, but it was a humorless laugh. "Sorry for the keychain crap, but it's the best I could come up with on short notice. You had no control over the situation; that man could have done anything. You must have been terrified."
"We have nothing to fear but fear itself," Marc said distantly, staring at the glass door in front of her.
Darien held the door open for her. "And fear makes companions of us all," he answered before ushering her in.
* * *
"Left," the Doctor said, staring at the small black plastic box in his hand. Hobbes turned left at the next intersection without comment.
"What're you gonna do when we catch up with this guy?" Hobbes asked. He knew what he personally would do.
"Talk to him," said the Doctor.
"Talk to him?" Hobbes repeated in disbelief.
"And then we'll see."
"Oh." Hobbes didn't know how to answer that.
"Left again."
They continued driving in silence.
* * *
Marc had let Darien into the TARDIS and left him hanging around the console room while she washed her face and changed. He studied the bookcases and picked out an old leather-bound book to flip thorough.
Marc found him still standing by the bookcases, thoroughly absorbed. "Whatcha reading?" she asked, flopping into an easy chair and closing her eyes in exhaustion.
Darien turned and glanced over at her. She wore a long dark skirt with a baggy sweater. "A book of Carl Sandburg's poetry," he said. "You okay?"
She heaved a deep sigh. "I will be."
"Yeah."
Marc opened her eyes, stared off into the distance. She shook her head slowly. "Stupid," she commented.
"What?"
"Stupid," she repeated. "He didn't do anything. He yelled at me, that was all. Why was I so scared?"
"Hey, the guy's a madman." Darien put his book down and crossed the room to sit down next to her. "He had a gun, he could have done anything."
A smile flickered on Marc's pale, tense face. "That is very reassuring, Darien."
"Okay, so it came out the wrong way, smartypants," Darien smiled back. He quickly sobered. "You said it yourself. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. You have to control that fear—you'll know that next time, if there is a next time."
Marc nodded and changed the subject. "You think they're okay?"
"Who, Hobbes and the Doc?" Darien shrugged casually, hiding his own worries. "Yeah, of course they are."
Marc brooded. "I wonder if they've found him yet."
* * *
Hobbes stopped the van. "He likes alleys," he commented.
"Yes, he does appear to," the Doctor agreed from the passenger seat. "Come on." He hopped out of the vehicle and headed into the alley. Hobbes quickly checked his gun and ran after the other man.
"You could at least wait for me," Hobbes hissed. The Doctor didn't answer, just stared down at his tracker unblinkingly. He almost ran into the brick wall at the end of the alley.
"Uh…"
"Looking for me?" Erick asked, stepping out of the doorway directly behind the other two men. "What's he doing here?" He pointed to Hobbes with his gun.
"He came to help me," the Doctor said. "Erick, don't do this anymore. Please. I'm sorry your family died—"
"Sorry isn't enough," Erick said simply. He kept his gun trained on the Time Lord but watched Hobbes like a hawk. Hobbes hovered tensely, waiting, his gaze shifting back and forth between the Doctor and Erick. "You should have saved them."
"I couldn't Erick, it was too late even before I arrived there. I had to stop the Rani, she was—"
"Had to stop her at any cost, Doctor?" The rage built in Erick's voice.
"No," the Doctor answered softly. "The cost is always too high. But it must be done."
Erick aimed the gun at the Doctor's forehead. He clicked off the safety. The Doctor straightened, his attention focusing on Erick's eyes, ignoring the gun. "You don't want to do this, Erick," he said in a soft, urgent voice. "Killing me will only add to your guilt, not lessen it."
"I'm not the one who's guilty!"
"No you're not, but you feel you are." The Doctor's voice was so compassionate it was almost painful to listen to. "You don't have to, Erick. There was nothing anyone could have done. It was finished before either of us could save it."
"Not true," Erick said, shaking his head fiercely. "You bastard, you let them die!" He began to pull the trigger, but Hobbes whipped out his own gun and shot him.
The Doctor gave Hobbes a black scowl before dropping to the ground next to Erick. Erick's hand fell limply, dropping his gun. "My family…" Erick whispered. His eyes closed and he sighed, the last breath escaping his body.
The Doctor looked up at Hobbes, pale eyes burning. "He shouldn't have died," was all he said.
* * *
"He was gonna shoot you," Hobbes said in the van on the way back to the agency. "What did you want me to do?"
"I was talking him out of it!"
"No," answered Hobbes, "you weren't."
"If you had given me a chance—"
"The safety was off. The trigger was cocked. This man has killed dozens in the US already. You were two feet away from him. He was not gonna let you live."
The Doctor remained silent.
"I saved your butt. The least you can do is thank me."
The Doctor shook his head, golden-brown curls flying into his face. "There should have been another way," he said softly.
"There wasn't," Hobbes told him. "And you can't change the past my friend."
The Doctor went rigid, then forced himself to relax. "No," he said, staring out the windshield at nothing. "I don't suppose I can."
* * *
Marc and Darien listened to Hobbes's report. They sat in the Official's office, Eberts as always at the Fatman's side. Hobbes stood in front of the desk, while the Doctor and Darien sat behind him. Marc stood to the side, near the window, arms folded across her chest and watching the Doctor's controlled facial expressions.
"Good work," the Official said.
Hobbes smiled slightly. "You see Fawkes? You are not the only one who can save the day." Darien rolled his eyes.
"All right, get out of here," said the Official. "And Doctor…please don't come back to San Diego."
"Oh don't worry," said the Doctor, speaking for the first time since coming back to the agency. "If I do, you won't hear about it." With that, he left the room, quickly followed by Marc. Darien and Hobbes went after the other two, exchanging glances.
"Time to go Marc," the Doctor said without looking at any of the humans. He unlocked the TARDIS doors. "We're finished here."
Marc opened her mouth to speak but then closed it, instead nodding acceptance. The Doctor turned to the partners and said, "Good-bye, Mr Hobbes, Mr Fawkes." He shook their hands and walked into the TARDIS.
Marc watched him go, then also turned to the two men. "I'm sorry," she said, a little helplessly. "He hates death. And losing."
"We all do," Darien answered.
"He just can't admit the guy was gonna kill him," Hobbes said. He held out his hand. "It was very nice meeting you, Marc."
Marc smiled. "You too, Bobby." He grinned at her, elbowed Fawkes in the stomach, and walked away down the corridor.
Darien leant against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets. He looked down at Marc and smiled. "There's an old Chinese curse," he said, "'may you live in interesting times.'"
Marc grinned. "Well, we most certainly do, don't we?" She sobered. "Thanks, Darien. For coming in and getting me."
Darien shrugged. "No problem. All in the job description."
Marc's mouth quirked up again in a smile. "Job description? Ha, I think the Doc and I need one of those." She impulsively gave him a quick hug. "You're a cool guy, Darien Fawkes. You keep saving people, okay?"
Darien laughed. "Yeah, you too, Marc." She grinned, walked into the TARDIS, paused in the doorway, turned, and gave him a little wave before fully going in and closing the doors behind her.
Darien watched and listened as the large blue police box disappeared, his eyes widening a bit. He reached out a hand where the box had stood and waved it around hesitantly, but there was nothing there.
With a little smile, he turned and walked away.
* * *
Marc hovered by the console, watching the Doctor plot co-ordinates. He was intent on his work, deliberately ignoring his friend.
"You okay?" she asked.
"What's your definition of okay?" The Doctor didn't look up.
"I'm sorry he died." She said it bluntly, angry at him for bottling things up when he never let her do that.
The Doctor finally met her gaze, his hands no longer flying over the controls. "So am I," he said after a long pause. "I really thought I could reason with him. But I think…I think your Mr Hobbes was right. He wasn't going to listen to me."
Marc nodded. "He's not my Mr Hobbes," she said after a while with a tiny grin.
The Doctor gave her a tiny grin in return. "No, but I don't think he would have minded."
"Doc!" She put her hands on her hips in mock-outrage.
The Doctor's grin merely widened, and he looked back down at the console again, returning to his task. But he seemed in a more cheerful mood. Marc headed for the interior doors, planning to go to her room and catch some sleep while she could.
"Marc?" the Doctor's accents stopped her.
She turned around, eyebrows raised enquiringly. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
She paused, weighing her answer, looking inside herself. She remembered her conversation with Darien in the console room and glanced over at the bookcase. His book was where he'd left it, carelessly dropped on a shelf. She refocused on the Doctor and smiled at him.
"I will be. Next time."
The Doctor half-frowned, half-smiled. She laughed at him and left the room.
* * *
A few days later, Darien Fawkes loped down the hallway toward the Official's office, hands stuck in his back jeans pockets and mind elsewhere.
"Hey, Fawkes," Bobby Hobbes called as he rounded the corner and saw his partner.
Darien turned around and kept walking. "Yeah, Hobbes?"
"You know what this is about?"
"I don't know Hobbes. Maybe the Fatman's decided to give us a vacation."
"Ya think so?" Hobbes's face lit up for an instant, then went back to his more habitual frowning expression. "Nah. Even if we do deserve one, putting our asses on the line every day…"
Darien opened the office door and gestured Hobbes in. "No, you first," said Hobbes.
"I insist," Darien answered.
"No, really."
"Please, go ahead, Hobbes."
"No, that's okay, you—"
"Hobbes! Fawkes! Get in here. Now."
Fawkes and Hobbes both tried to go in at the same time, got stuck, then stepped back out of the doorway together. They paused for a long moment, eyeing each other, then finally Hobbes walked in first.
Darien sprawled into one of the chairs and beamed up at the Official and Eberts. Hobbes sat down in the other chair and waited.
"We have a new case for you boys," the Fatman said with a special kind of gleam in his eye that Darien liked not at all. Eberts handed each of the agents a manila folder, and the Official began talking about what the partners would do next.
Darien half-paid attention, his mind still focusing on Marc and the Doctor. He had told Marc saving her had been part of the job description—true enough, he supposed, but he wondered when he'd started actually going by that. When he actually started thinking of this as his job. He remembered Marc's tear-stained face in the van and the Doctor's quiet strength the whole time Darien had known him, and he realized that those two must go through similar things everyday. Similar to what he went through everyday.
Huh. Takes one to know one?
"Right boss," Hobbes said easily as he stood up, folder in hand. Darien refocused on the conversation and also stood up, hoping he hadn't missed much. "We'll get right on it."
"Yeah," Darien nodded, trying to look like he knew what he was talking about. They turned and left the office together.
"Where were you in there?" Hobbes said when the door closed behind them.
"What do you mean?"
"You were not paying attention, and don't say you were, 'cause I know you weren't. That is not a good idea, Fawkes. That can be very dangerous. Go read your file."
"Yeah."
Hobbes shook his head and started walking away.
"Hey, Hobbes," Darien called after his partner.
Hobbes turned around. "Yeah Fawkes?"
"We do good work, don't we?"
Hobbes stared at the younger man, blinking, floored by the highly unexpected question. What the hell was he thinking about? "Of course we do," he answered aloud.
Darien nodded, still with that deep, unfathomable frown on his face, hands plunged into his pockets. He smiled slightly and said, "Yeah. Thanks Hobbes," and turned around abruptly, strolling down the hall in the opposite direction of Hobbes.
Hobbes stood there for a moment before following Fawkes, about to ask him what the hell he meant by that.
and onto other adventures…