Nine Eyed Monsters
Summary:
When an ordinary family home is disturbed by a strange creature that only eleven year old Tommy believes in, the Doctor intervenes to save an ancient race of eel fish that have been driven from their deep water habitat. But the creatures, which feed by night and are confused by their strange surroundings are starving, making the task much more dangerous than the Doctor first imagined.
Added to this is the fact that eleven year old Tommy is determined to catch one of the creatures to prove to his mother that his tales of monsters are true, and soon the Doctor finds he is caught in a situation where he must capture the colony of monsters whilst keeping safe a boy who is determined to come along for the adventure...
Rated : K
Warnings:No warnings in this fic, apart from scary monsters - lamprey style creatures are rather ugly! :-)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I write for the love of the fandom.
Chapter 1
The sky was black and the stars were shining brightly in the clear night sky.
Downstairs the TV had been silenced and then his mother had come upstairs and looked in on him, and eleven year old Tommy Taylor had pretended to be asleep. He was in bed in his room, still dressed with the covers pulled up to his chin because he wanted to get up and find a monster. And even if he didn't find it, he was ready to run in case it came after him. He wouldn't be sleeping that night any way, and he knew it:
He couldn't sleep because the moon was full.
It was up there in the sky, full and round and shining and the silver light of it frightened him because he knew what it meant:
It was coming back.
He didn't know what it was, but he had heard it, splashing about in the bathroom. He had heard a thump as it slithered out – from the toilet? Or from the plug hole in the bath? It always came with the sound of water.
He didn't like the sound of water any more, because he imagined it slipping about inside it. And it was heavy, and it crept and it threw a shadow - but every time he dared to look out of the crack in the door, he never quite caught sight of it, because it shrank away.
Tommy had vowed to catch it, but the darkness was too deep and he felt too alone and no matter how many times he made his plans, he always turned on the light, and then he saw nothing was there.
But he could still hear it.
He could hear it right now, and he was ready to go and confront it.
But he was too scared because now it was slipping down the stairs, and soon...
There it was.
A thump as the kitchen door was pushed open, the sound of something raiding the fridge, like something was so hungry as it spilled out the contents that it didn't even know what it was looking for. He heard a crash and wished his mum would wake up, but she was a heavy sleeper and perhaps it might actually decide to eat her if it saw her – he didn't know where that thought had come from, and it was enough to cancel out his plans to hunt the creature in the dark.
But he would hunt it, because in the morning, when his mum saw the mess she would go mad. She would kill him.
He was angry with it now, because it was responsible for him being called a liar, it was to blame for his mother blaming him for the mess that thing made.
No more of it.
His mind was made up:
In the morning, he would catch it, and he would show it to her.
He was going to catch that thing even if it killed him...
The Doctor was alone in his Tardis, watching a monitor on the console as it zoomed into the place where he needed to be. He turned pale blue eyes to the view of space and its inky starry wonderland, and there in the middle of it all, was his favourite planet:
Earth held so many memories he was surprised he didn't when asked say his home planet was Earth instead of Gallifrey. He loved the place so much, and the humans that lived there too. He was sure he would never be able to put into words how much those humans meant to him, and although the place also carried with it memories of the loss of those who had been close to him, it also held such fond memories too that it warmed both his hearts.
And that was why the prospect of chasing out a colony of hungry ancient creatures that had been disturbed from their deep water habitat and now posed a risk, was something he felt he had to get involved with. He had been in the habit of scanning the earth for anomalies for centuries – and this time, it was an environmental problem, and caused by humans, too – but that wasn't going to put him off, even though water and mud and giant nine eyed eel fish were not his idea of a great way to spend a day.
The Doctor took note of the location and prepared to land.
As he threw a lever he thought again about the mud and the water, and guessed he had come up against much worse and if things got rough, the only casualty would most likely be his suit, and as much as he didn't relish the scarlet lining of his jacket getting soaked in mud, he didn't like the idea of those nine eyed creatures turning to humans for their food supply, either.
The Tardis was heading for Earth.
He felt sure by the time it landed, he would have thought up a plan to avoid damage to his suit, because this would get messy. As for the nine eyed monsters, he had that one covered because he already had a plan...
"What have you done?"
Tommy's heart sank as he made his way down the stairs. This was no way to start the school holidays. It had trashed the kitchen, and he was going to get the blame again...
As her son walked into the kitchen, Chelle Taylor glared at her son, who stood there with a sad look in his dark eyes. The way he stood, the way his dark hair caught the light and showed up faint highlights of reddish brown reminded her of her husband, he looked just like him, and she wished he was here now, because he would have known what to do...
"Don't tell me you didn't do it," she said, dumping crushed yogurt pots into the bin and then turning for the tea towel to wipe her hands, only to see the tea towel on the floor in a puddle of milk.
"But mum it wasn't me!" he protested.
Chelle turned to the sink, washed her hands, and then in despair wiped them down her jeans as she looked to the mess on the floor and then to the open fridge where nothing was left, and then back to her son again.
"Are you doing this for attention? "
Tommy's eyes widened in protest.
"No, mum! I told you, it wasn't me!"
The look in her green eyes hardened.
"Tommy, this behaviour has to stop! It's not my fault your dad has to work abroad. I didn't want him to go either!"
"But I didn't do it!" he yelled, and the anger in her eyes burned deeper.
"You do this every four weeks, Tommy!"
He glanced to the now clear summer skies, looking blue and cloudless through the kitchen window. He knew she wouldn't listen, but she had brought him up to tell the truth, and he was going to do it even though it seemed pointless... if he kept on, maybe one day she would believe him...
"It happens when the moon is full! It was full last night and I heard it coming!"
She shook her head.
"Stop your silly stories. You're making me angry, you're driving your friends away too with your stupid stories about goblins or ghosts or -"
"It's a monster," he corrected her, and she gave a sigh of frustration.
"Tommy," she said stepping closer, "Monsters don't exist. You're eleven! You're getting older, you're too old to tell stupid stories to cover up for misbehaving!"
She paused, trying not to think about the cost of replacing the wrecked contents of the fridge, then she ran her fingers through her dark shoulder length hair and gave another sigh.
"I'll go shopping and buy some more food. And you will stay here and clean up this mess!"
"But it wasn't me!"
Hurt reflected in his words, but she just shook her head again.
"And you're grounded."
"But mum -"
"You are grounded for the whole of half term. No friends round, no playing outside and no treats! I have to put a stop to this and if you stay in for a week, maybe you'll learn your lesson. There are no monsters, there are no things creeping about in the night wrecking the kitchen. It's you. Now clean up that mess - I want it done by the time I get back!"
And she snatched up her bag and her car keys and headed for the door.
Tommy stood there looking about the kitchen, his mother had already picked up a couple of broken plates, but there was cake up the wall and milk all over the place and the butter would take ages to clean up.
He gave a heavy sigh and started picking up everything that wasn't stuck to the floor, a crushed butter tub, squashed cartons of milk and scattered salad. This was turning out to be the worst half term ever.
Now he really hated that monster.
Now he wanted to kill it...
Chelle had arrived at the supermarket, parked the car and got out, still in a bad mood over the way her son, who was old enough to know better, had trashed the kitchen yet again.
And then she felt it again, an itch that was driving her mad. She scratched at her arm, looked down at it and frowned as she saw a rash developing. It looked like bites.
She wasn't going to waste time wondering if it was anything to do with the blankets Tommy had used in the garden to build a tent and then brought back into the house, because there was no point wondering about it while the biters were hopping about the soft furnishings and waiting to strike again. She blamed the field at the back of the house, the tall grass. Full of things that bit...
Chelle took her phone from her bag and did a quick search for pest control numbers. Then she hit a link to website, but then her phone rang.
She answered it without checking the caller's number.
"If that mess isn't cleared up you're in trouble young man! And I don't want to hear about monsters ever again, okay? Have you got that?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Hello Mrs Taylor," said a man with a Scottish accent, "Pest control here - I understand you've got a problem?"
"How did you -"
"You called my number just now?"
"No?"
"Well, I got yours. I'm the Doctor. That's what they call me. So what's the problem, do you have fleas?"
Fleas. The mention of the word irritated her.
"No me personally, no. But I think there could be some in the house. I keep itching and getting rashes."
"It's more likely to be coming from the bathroom."
"Excuse me?" she said as annoyance sounded in her voice, "Are you saying my house is dirty?"
He laughed softy.
"No I'm saying at this time of year things can fly in from all sorts of places - or crawl or creep in...and if they have parasites attached, those parasites may not even be dangerous to humans but they can cause skin irritation if the host has been in contact with the bath or the towels."
"The towels? That's it, I'm washing them all as soon as I get home - even the clean ones in the linen cupboard -"
"Just don't panic about this," he replied, "I can come over around mid day and take a look around. I promise I can get rid of your problem, it's common at this time of year."
Chelle briefly hoped his rates were reasonable.
"Is this expensive?"
"Not at all," he replied, "You're my one hundredth customer this summer, that means for you my services are free."
"I'll give you my address."
"I already have it. I'll see you then."
The call ended.
Chelle looked at her phone with a confused expression.
"I didn't give you my address..." she murmured, and then she thought of everything that needed replacing in the kitchen, and walked towards the supermarket as she cast her thoughts back to her son and hoped he was busy scrubbing up the butter from the floor.
The kitchen floor was clean.
There was no butter left, no slippery marks on the lino, everything was spotless. Tommy had even cleaned out the mess left in the fridge. Now it stood white and bright...and empty.
He balled his hand into a fist as his anger rose and he thought of the creature that had wrecked the kitchen.
No more of it.
This was war.
He left the kitchen and ran upstairs to his room, grabbed a note book from his desk and turned the pages until he found the notes he had made entitled Battle Plan. He scanned though it and then grabbed his supplies:
A stick and a string to hold open the toilet lid, so he could bring it crashing down to trap the thing as it climbed out - and a hammer, stolen from the garden shed to bash its brains in...
He was going to do this. He was going to catch it today, while he was safe and it was daylight...
Moments later Tommy was in the bathroom, the stick holding the toilet seat open as he clutched at the string and cautiously looked into the toilet:
Nothing.
Then he heard a pop and let go of the string and turned to the bath.
A slippery, grey thing was squelching against the plug hole from the inside. It looked rounded and shiny and far too big to be a slug. His eyes widened as he looked down at it, and then it shrank away into the darkness, to the place where the bath water went when the plug came out. He backed away and made a mental note to be sure the plug was in very, very tightly the next time he had a bath. Then he looked back at the toilet.
Still nothing.
He picked up the string and decided he would have to wait. Whatever was hiding wouldn't come out now. Maybe it didn't like the light...
He would have to try to catch it later, when it was dark, even though the thought of the dark and what ever that thing was he had seen in the plug hole had scared him. But that had looked tiny, and the thing he had heard moving about the house had been much bigger...
There was more than one monster?
The thought made him gasp, just as the front door closed and his mother called his name. It gave him a jolt and Tommy accidentally tugged on the string and the lid of the toilet slammed shut.
"What are you doing up there?" his mum called out.
"Nothing!" he called back, gathering up the stick and the string and the hammer quickly.
He ran from the bathroom to the bedroom and hid the monster trap under his bed, and then he walked back to the top of the stairs and looked down.
"Thank you for cleaning the kitchen," his mum said, "When I've finished putting all the new food away I'll make breakfast. And you're still grounded. I want you to think about what you've done for the rest of the week, okay?"
There was no point arguing about it because he knew he couldn't win.
Instead Tommy just nodded, as he silently wished someone could be on his side in this, someone who would believe him.
And then the doorbell rang.
His mum turned away and went down the hall to answer the door, and Tommy stood at the top of the stairs listening. And as the visitor spoke, he got the strangest feeling that maybe there was someone who would believe him. He didn't know why, but he felt it as he heard his voice for the first time:
"Mrs Taylor?" he heard him say, "Nice to meet you, I'm the Doctor, I'm here to help..."