SEVEN
David was frog-marched into the children's home, the two large policemen looking slightly annoyed as they turned him loose in the social room.
He shuffled forwards, taking in all the children watching him with looks of amusement or contempt.
"David!" Helena shouted, running from the other side of the large play room.
He turned to see her, grinning as she ran into him full-tilt, hugging him tightly. He grabbed onto her, relieved.
"Hey, Lena," he said sadly. "They caught us."
"Us?" she asked, pulling away to look at him. "Are you right? What's gone on?" she demanded excitedly.
He looked back at the policemen, chatting to the matron on duty, and walked away slowly, Helena Stafford following.
"I met some strange bloke ont train platform," he said with a smile. "We were doing alright, got as far as Preston, then they caught us coming off the train."
"What?" she gasped, her little hands going to her mouth. "What bloke? You idiot! That's really dangerous!" she admonished, slapping his arm suddenly. He just chuckled.
"Naw, he were alright. Bought me tea. And then…" His smile faded. "And then I ran away. I left him and ran for it."
"Why?" she asked.
"I… I thought he were going to bring me back here," he said quietly, looking at his feet. "But… I think he could find out stuff, Lena," he said, looking up again.
"What stuff?"
"Like me parents. He's clever, Lena, really clever, and he knows stuff."
"I still think it sounds silly."
"Look, wait till lights-out tonight, and I'll tell you everything," he said calmly. She just studied his face for a long moment.
"Alright. But you'd best not be lying to me, Dave, or I'll have your lights out," she warned.
He smiled. "Yeah, I know."
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"You have to understand, Mr Smith, that kidnapping a small boy is a very serious offence," the Detective Inspector said.
He was sitting opposite the Time Lord in the small interview room, watching the odd man nod and look around aimlessly.
"Yes, I should imagine it is," the Doctor replied indignantly. "And when it happens so often, too." He paused, then his face changed. "Wait, you don't think –"
"Mr Smith, we have CCTV footage of you leaving Piccadilly with David Dale. You were chasing him toward the platform," he said heavily.
"He invited himself!" he cried, surprised. "Ask the girl behind the counter! I was just trying to get information and he literally came out of nowhere, barging in and buying himself a ticket – and mine!"
"Really," the DI said, uninterested, but he appeared to make some kind of scribbled note of this on a small pad under his right hand.
"Yes really!" the Doctor snapped angrily. "Go ask him yourself!"
"He's been sent home," he said meaningfully.
"You mean he's been sent to the Home," the Doctor snapped. "He doesn't belong there. Perhaps if you tried tracing his family as hard as you're trying to pin some stupid made-up charge on me, he could go to his real home!"
"Mr Smith, that is bang out of –"
"Is it?" he demanded angrily. "I'll tell you what's bang out of order, sir! That that poor boy has been shunted from one Home to another because no-one has ever cared about where he ends up!"
"Apart from you?"
"Well at least I bothered to ask about his family!" he shouted. "Far more than you lot have ever done!"
"Mr Smith!"
"Don't you 'Mr Smith' me!" he roared. "Why don't you stop wasting everyone's time and do some real work! Let me go so I can do what I came here to do! Don't you have some graffiti artist's spelling to correct somewhere?"
"Right!" the officer said abruptly, getting to his feet. "If you're not going to be any help, you can bloody well spend the night here."
The Doctor watched him turn and storm out of the interview room. There was the sound of a bolt scraping across the outside, and then he heard the DI calling for officers.
He leaned back in the chair, huffed, and folded his arms.
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David waited until the lights had been officially turned out by the matron, then counted to one hundred.
He slipped out of bed, pushing his feet in his slippers and creeping round to the door to the four-bed room.
He opened the door silently, slipping out and heading down the corridor. He found the second door and opened it just as quietly, slipping inside and waiting.
He let his eyes get used to the darkness, making out the shapes of the beds. He headed for the one nearest the window, reaching it and sitting down slowly. He put a hand out and touched the girl's arm.
Helena opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Well?" she whispered. He looked around.
"Not in here. Come on," he whispered back, getting off her bed and walking back to the door. She got out of bed, found her slippers, and followed him silently.
A few minutes later and they were sat on the floor of a power cupboard, watching each other in the gloom.
"Right. Now you tell me what's going on, Dave," she said firmly.
"Alright, it's like this," he said quickly. "That man's not from round here," he began.
"Really?" she asked. "Where's he from, Liverpool?"
"Further than that," he said with a smile.
"You don't mean… Scotland?" she dared. His smile turned into a grin.
"No, I mean he's not like us, Lena. Look… If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?"
"Don't be daft," she whispered shortly. "I've never told anyone anything you've told me. They'd think me mad anyway!"
"Right," he said with a smile. "Well… He's an alien," he whispered.
She stared at him.
"What… like… an alien?" she breathed.
"Yeah!" he hissed. "His torch-thing told me."
"His 'torch-thing'?" she demanded flatly, putting her hands on her hips.
"Yeah!" he said happily. "It's really cool – you don't have to touch owt with it, it just makes the doors come unlocked!"
"Dave, don't start," she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead wearily.
"It's true!" he hissed, upset she didn't appear to believe him.
"Oh Dave, everything you tell me… I know you really want it to be true. But –"
"Alright then, look," he said smartly, getting up off the floor and tipping a finger at her. She sighed and got up too. "Right, open the door," he said.
She reached out and put her hand on the door handle, pushing it down and pulling the door open.
"And close it."
She did so and he pulled his hand out from his pyjama pocket, flicking on the screwdriver and watching the blue light. She gasped at the sound of the instrument, and then David heard the small click from the door. He flicked off the screwdriver and folded his arms.
"Open it," he said succinctly.
She put her hand out on the door handle. It moved barely an inch through its downward arc before it stopped. She gasped, rattling it up and down.
"It's locked!" she managed, surprised, trying it with both hands now.
"Told you," he said proudly. She let go, looking at the screwdriver. "Now, hang on…" He flicked the screwdriver back on and aimed it at the door handle. He heard the tiny click again and snapped the blue light off. "Try it now."
She did and it opened easily.
"Oh… my… god," she whispered, then let the door close again. She turned and looked at David. "So… what do we do now?"
"We?" he asked, pocketing the screwdriver again. "We go back to bed, love. I'm going to go to the matron int morning and tell her I want to see that man again."
"But why?" she asked quickly. "If he's an alien –"
"He can help me, Lena, and maybe you too."
"How?"
"Imagine if he could find your parents, Lena. Imagine if he could find you somewhere to live, so I could see you all the time?" he said desperately. "What if your real parents live somewhere near here, you just never knew?"
"What about finding your parents too?" she demanded angrily. "And what if he takes you back to his spaceship? What if he takes you away from me? Forever?"
"Lena," he said, biting his lip. "I don't think he'd do that. He dunt seem like a bad man."
"He's not a man!" she stressed. "He's some alien thing!" She paused and saw his face. "What?"
"I think – well, I think he might be…"
"What?"
"I think he's my dad!" he blurted nervously.
She stared at him, shocked.
"What?"
"Well… He looks like me! An' I can talk to him, Lena! And you know me, I can't talk to anyone without starting a fight." He didn't dare meet her eyes.
"But you said he was an alien!"
"I know." He bit his lip, very uncertain and major puzzles and possibilities racing through his head.
"Dave…" She sighed. "Look. Do you really think he might be your dad?" She paused. "Seriously?"
"Maybe," he mumbled. "Only – I don't think he knows, really. But he's nice though."
"Maybe he's just nice cos he wants to kidnap you – I've seen it ont news," she said cynically.
"But he could help us!" he cried urgently. He put his hands to her arms, holding her still. "Lena, listen to me. Trust me."
She pouted, watching him and turning it over and over in her head.
"Can I at least come with you?" she asked timidly. He thought about it, his eyes whirling.
"No," he said sadly. Just in case you're right, he heard himself add. "But I'll come back for you."
"Promise?" she asked. He nodded.
"I promise."
"Then be careful, Dave," she said quietly. "I'll just wait for you to come back. Whatever happens."
