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Chrysanthemum landed on the mat with only the slightest of wobbles.
"Welcome aboard the WARDIP!" the Doctor said, making an expansive arm gesture and nearly dropping the thrashing bundle of squirrel in the process. "She's sentient, so don't touch her anywhere you wouldn't want to be touched, and--" Chrysanthemum jerked her hand away from one of the support beams as the Doctor brushed past her, "best close the door." She turned around and blinked. The door was still at about eye level, but the slide was gone. In its place was a metal ladder, the rungs more like flat, narrow steps--the sort you'd see on a playground slide, in fact. He reached outside and pulled the door shut, then turned to face her. "Well," he said just a tad defensively after taking in her expression, "you ever try climbing up a slide? Not very easy, is it?"
Chrysanthemum swallowed something that might have been a grin. "I didn't say anything."
"Yes, well--" the Doctor was cut off by a fierce, raspy trill from the squirrel. He frowned down at it. "Will you stop fussing?" The increased volume of the furious chitters were as good as a 'no.' The Doctor rolled his eyes, then held the bundle out towards Chrysanthemum. "D'you mind taking him while I dig out the neural incapacitator? It'll only be a moment."
"Better make it quick," she replied as she took the squirrel once again. It had managed to free its hind legs and was kicking furiously with them; it was all she could do to avoid being scratched. As the Doctor buried himself shoulder-deep in a wall compartment and rummaged, she tried to capture the squirrel's hindquarters in an extra fold of scarf. The Doctor had more luck than she did, emerging a moment later with a triumphant "Ah-HA!" and what appeared to be a microwave. In fact--Chrysanthemum squinted to be sure--it was a microwave.
"Found it! Told you it'd only take a moment!" The Doctor plunked the microwave onto an odd, blocky bit of furniture too short to be a table and too tall to be a bench. After popping open the door with considerable panache, he turned to Chrysanthemum. "All right, chuck him in!"
Chrysanthemum frowned. "It's a microwave."
The Doctor looked at the microwave, then back at her, brow furrowed. "No, it's not. It's a neural incapacitator."
"It has a button that says 'popcorn.'"
"Well, sometimes you have to neurally incapacitate popcorn!" He folded his arms. "In fact, you have to do it quite often, thus the one-touch setting."
"Do you also often need to neurally incapacitate--" she craned her neck, "--pizza and baked potatoes?" The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I know a microwave when I see one, Doctor, and I'm not letting you--"
It was the Doctor's turn to interrupt. "Five minutes ago, you thought you knew a washing machine when you saw one." Chrysanthemum shut her mouth, blushing, and he leaned back against the bench-table with a victorious little smile. "It was a microwave," he conceded in a gentler tone, "but I've made some adjustments. And I can assure you that it won't harm your fuzzy little friend, because it can't. The squirrel's already dead, remember? What could I possibly do to it?" He spread his arms, the picture of innocent bafflement. When she didn't respond, he folded his arms and tilted his head towards the microwave. "Go on."
She hesitated, then scowled and walked over. "I don't care if it is technically dead," she warned as she reluctantly bundled the squirrel into the microwave, "if you blow it up or anything, I'm going to be very upset with you."
"And we can't have that," he said seriously as he helped extract the scarf from the microwave without the squirrel escaping. A moment later, he'd shut the door. They both watched as it scrabbled its paws against the glass.
"Right," the Doctor said, allowing his fingers to roam over the buttons. "I think... this one ought to do it." He pressed a button marked "defrost ice cream" and stepped back. The microwave clicked, then the inside light switched on with an accompanying hum. The squirrel began to rotate. At first it stood stiffly, alarmed at this turn of events, but it soon recovered and launched itself at the door, scratching wildly until the spinning glass base carried it off to the side, at which point it repositioned itself and resumed its futile escape attempt, the rapid scrit-scrit-scrit-scrit-scrit almost drowning out the hum of the machine.
Chrysanthemum shifted and bit her lip. "Doctor..."
"Needs a bit more juice," he agreed, reaching over and pressing "power level." After a moment's hesitation, he hit "9", and the hum increased in pitch.
"Isn't that a bit much?" she asked, voice shrill. The Doctor shrugged. The squirrel scratched with more frantic energy, then sat back, tail bristling, and screeched.
Chrysanthemum didn't know if it was in pain or merely furious, and she didn't care. "That's enough!" she snapped, lunging forward and popping open the door, killing the hum and the light. The squirrel leaped out of the microwave, raced up her arm, and gave the Doctor a thorough scolding from her shoulder.
"It's not hurt," the Doctor insisted, peering at it.
"It's not happy, either!"
"It's a 'zombie mummy squirrel' that will be returned to its original stuffed state once it's served its purpose! Of course it's unhappy; wouldn't you be?" He raised his eyebrows at the squirrel. "Are you going to cooperate?" The squirrel made a noise that was rude in any language, and the Doctor stepped back, exasperated. "You try," he urged Chrysanthemum, "he seems to like you."
The girl sighed, then turned her head. Feeling foolish, she said to the squirrel, "I have a proposition for you." Much to her surprise, the squirrel twitched its tail, then climbed down to the crook of her elbow so she could more easily look it in the eye. The Doctor's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't interrupt. Chrysanthemum gulped, unnerved by the creature's sudden, quiet attentiveness. "Right," she continued, "if you help us out by leading us to the, er, source of the wavelength thing that woke you up, then I'll take you home so you can be with your friends and go back to your nap. Sound all right?"
The squirrel considered this, head tilted to one side, then chirped. It shot down her leg like she was nothing more than a tree, and a moment later it was by the WARDIP's door, watching them expectantly.
"What exactly did that microwave do to it?" Chrysanthemum asked, hardly believing her eyes.
"It was supposed to dumb the squirrel down a bit, making it more prone to suggestion, but it seems to have had the opposite effect." The Doctor frowned at the microwave. "Strange. But as long as it's willing to lead us to the source..." he shrugged, folded up his scarf, and looped it over the railing. "Let's not keep it waiting; it might lose interest."
"You're not bringing the scarf?"
"We might have to run for our lives!" The Doctor grinned. "And I'd hate to trip. Ruins the moment. Come on!" He strode over to the door and pushed it open, allowing the squirrel to hop out into the alleyway. Once the squirrel had cleared the doorway, the Doctor poked his head out and checked the alley. He withdrew his head long enough to say, "All clear," then climbed out into the daylight. After a last, brief look at the WARDIP's interior, Chrysanthemum followed.
It took her a moment to spy the squirrel; it was clinging to the brick wall of one of the buildings bordering the alley. It scurried out towards the street, and Chrysanthemum jogged to catch up with it. The Doctor shut the WARDIP and followed. Glancing around the corner, Chrysanthemum could see a few police cars some blocks away. The squirrel led them in the opposite direction, alternately crawling along the wall and bounding down the sidewalk.
Charming little cafes and shops eventually gave way to empty buildings and graffiti-covered walls, then to a series of warehouses. Most were empty, windows broken by delinquent youths with either decent aim or admirable persistence. It was into one of these abandoned warehouses that the squirrel finally disappeared.
The Doctor scoped out the warehouse from a safe distance, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment, he turned to Chrysanthemum. "This could get dangerous. Sure you don't want to go home?"
"I'm not just going to leave my squirrel at the mercy of... whatever's in there," she said, stubbornly poking her chin forward. "And I didn't come all this way just to turn back. I want to know what's going on."
The Doctor grinned, as if this was the answer he'd been hoping for. "Excellent! Off we go, then!" He strode towards the warehouse door with a jaunty little bounce in his step, not even attempting discretion. Chrysanthemum raised her eyebrows and followed.
About twenty feet from the door, he stopped dead and reached out an arm to bring Chrysanthemum to a halt as well. She looked up to see him frowning, eyes shut, one hand brushing his forehead.
"What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
His frown deepened, then his eyes snapped open. "Get back."
"What?"
"Back, back, back!" He grabbed her shoulders and steered her back to the shade of a neighboring warehouse, all the while muttering creative curses under his breath. "Did you feel anything?" he asked once they'd stopped. "Up here, I mean?" He tapped her forehead with a finger and she flinched, confused and a little irritated.
"No, I didn't feel anything. Why?"
"Figures; they wouldn't be after you." The Doctor turned away and started digging through his pockets.
Chrysanthemum let out a little, exasperated sigh. "Who's 'they'?"
He glanced at her, face grim. "Alecs."
"Alecs?" she repeated, brow furrowed. "Alec as in Baldwin?"
"Alec as in smart." He pulled an ipod out of his pocket and turned it on. "More than smart--brilliant. Giant brains full of nasty ideas. They have a telepathic range of fifty meters, and we just stepped into it. You're sure you didn't feel anything?"
"Yeah." Chrysanthemum frowned, unnerved by the Doctor's abrupt shift in demeanor, and changed the subject. "What's the ipod for?"
He smiled, and she relaxed a little. "This ipod prevents them from reading my mind."
"How?"
"It's full," he said, leaning over to show her the tiny screen, "of the most irritating and inane music mankind has to offer. They can't stand it." He scrolled rapidly down the list, only allowing her to catch the occasional word--"Elgar," "Evanescence," "Hump"--before leaning back and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat. "As long as I'm listening to this, they'll stay well out of my brain." He pushed the earbuds into his ears, then turned to Chrysanthemum and gave her a look that was very grave, indeed. "It would probably be best if you went home."
She folded her arms. "Forget it. I'm not leaving."
He hesitated, then exhaled. "Fine. But if you feel, see, or hear anything strange--anything at all--tell me immediately, understood?" She nodded. "Good. Let's go."
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Sorry this update was a bit long in coming--I got distracted by lambing. But I've all but finished the fic, so future updates should be more forthcoming... particularly the next one. I'm quite proud of the next one.
Reviews are very much appreciated. Hint, wink, nudge, cough, significant sidelong glance.