Hello everyone! Every year when fall begins, I sort of slip into a kind of depressive mental malaise, and it gets hard(er) for me to motivate myself (so emo, I know). All I'm saying is, it was difficult for me to get this chapter going. Really difficult. But hopefully, everyone is still enjoying the story, and I promise there will be a lot more surprises ahead (I so love a good surprise!). So please, if you want to give the author a mental carrot, then click the little review button at the bottom of this page when you're done reading..:) -Thanks! S.E.
Chapter 9: Victims and Circumstance
Edinburgh, Scotland, 1828
Will was walking along Candlemaker's Row, his head bowed beneath his blue cap and his hands shoved deep within his pockets. It was late afternoon, and the sky overhead was darkening with the looming presence of storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, like the stomach of a hungry, grumpy giant. Through the black iron gates of Greyfriar's kirkyard, Will could see a procession of figures moving amongst the headstones, figures dressed in inky black, walking slowly, with a large, wooden box hefted above their heads. Will stopped for a moment, stared at the sight. He felt a coldness settle in his chest, whether from the scant parade of the dead or from the sudden chill in the air, he couldn't tell. He shivered once, then started to move away from the gate, until-
Clank!
Will froze as he found his way barred by a wooden cane, the tip of which rested noisily on the iron bars of the gate. Will's eyes followed the length of the cane, up to the man who held it: a young man with light hair and eyes who was no older than himself. Light, sea-colored eyes which had a devious, calculating look to them. Will thought he was being threatened, until the young man's face broke out in a wily smile, and he said:
"Oi, I know you! You deal with Dr. Knox."
Will became alarmed. He had just come from Dr. Knox's residence at Number 10, Surgeon's Square and had purposely taken a circuitous route home, a decision made out of a growing paranoia and fear of a certain person. His mind screamed: He knows! You're being followed! Until the next words that fell from the young man's mouth:
"I deal with Dr. Knox as well. In the manner of...finding subjects." There was another of those wily smiles. "The name's James Hewitt. But you can call me Jim." The young man tucked his cane under his arm and held out his hand.
Will shook the other man's hand, inwardly sighing with relief. "William Hare. I go by Will." So, the young man was an actual resurrectionist, and he thought that Will was a fellow in the trade. But his relief was short-lived as Jim quirked his head to the side, and said:
"You know, I've been hearing the names of Burke and Hare for months, and yet...and yet, we've never crossed paths. Out in the field of business, I mean." Jim nodded meaningfully towards the kirkyard.
Will practically blanched at that pronouncement. It never occurred to him that his and Burke's 'activities' might be noticed by other so-called 'resurrection-men.' But then, as in any business, it was probably natural for Jim to want to familiarize himself with his competition. Jim noticed the somewhat panicked look on Will's face, and misinterpreting it, he said casually, "Oh, I'm not here to scout out the burial. That kirkyard's too well-guarded. Really well-guarded. Mr. Black would put me back in the pen for 'vi-o-la-tion of sepulchres' for sure. And I've only just gotten back out." Jim tilted his head to the side and grinned maniacally.
A warning crack of thunder cut through the conversation. "Pardon me, I really need to be going," said Will, in what he hoped was a natural tone of voice. He turned and began to make his way back up Candlemaker's Row. From behind him, Jim said, in an insinuating voice:
"Tell the good doctor that I'll be coming 'round to see him again. Real soon." Will's head swiveled, and he looked back over his shoulder, back at Jim who was leaning casually against the kirkyard gate with a devious expression, leaning in his gray suit and tall hat, grinning like a gargoyle in a crouch.
No, Will had not been mistaken about Jim's intent. Jim was definitely here to 'suss' out his competition. Only, the competition had nothing to do with the business of delivering dead bodies.
The competition was for the good doctor himself.
Will's head was filled with conflicting thoughts as he moved mindlessly toward his house in Tanner's Close. But for once, his thoughts had nothing to do with Burke or his wife or the numerous murders that had taken place under his roof. No, his thoughts were on Robert, on the elegant rooms that filled his manse far up on the hill, and on the growing relationship-the growing love-that the two of them shared. Or that he thought they shared. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he was nothing, absolutely nothing, to the rich, brilliant, educated Dr. Knox. Maybe he was just one in a long line of play things, wedged somewhere in between the Alexander Millers and James Hewitts of the world. Maybe all the things that the two of them talked about in the close, intimate setting of Robert's private chambers meant nothing. Maybe it was all lies. Maybe-
"Mr. William Hare?"
Will was shaken out of the drunken stupor of his thoughts at the sound of his name being called. Without even noticing it, he had made it all the way back to the main street of his house, and there, standing at the head of the shallow steps that led down to his building, was a man in a deep blue uniform covered with brass buttons. A police officer. Warning bells clanged and chimed noisily within the suddenly silent sanctuary of Will's mind. All thoughts of Robert flew out the window as he was confronted with the stern, unfriendly face of the officer in front of him. Ann Conway's words from two days ago returned, echoing like an auditory phantom through the now empty corridors of his thoughts:
"I know what I saw, and I know what it is you have in that crate..."
Another warning crack of thunder, preceded by a blinding flash of lightning that bleached the cobblestones a heavenly white. "Mr. William Hare?" the officer repeated.
"Yes?"
"I'm officer John Fisher. If you would be so kind as to accompany me inside, I would like to ask you a few questions."
His nerves growing numb with fear, Will obediently followed behind Fisher as he turned and walked down the steps leading into his house. Overhead, the flood gates of heaven finally broke open, and a torrential downpour began to batter the stones and bricks, handily drenching Will just before he made it through to the safety of his lodgings. Only his lodgings weren't safe...
Will's panic intensified as they entered the front parlor only to find another man, morbidly pale and dressed in unadorned, clerical black, scribbling into a ledger of some sorts. The man's head was bowed over his task, and he barely looked up as both Will and Fisher entered the room. Off-hand, Fisher said, "Mr. Hare, this is Alexander Black, police surgeon and lead inspector." Will stared openly at Black, as he thought back to the conversation he'd just had with Jim in front of Greyfriar's:
"...Mr. Black would put me back in the pen for sure..."
Will walked in a daze to his kitchen table, where he sat down heavily in a chair. He watched as Black grabbed Fisher's arm as he passed, watched him whisper something too low for him to hear into his ear. Fisher merely nodded, then he joined Will at the table. It was only then that Will noticed how silent it was inside his house. No thumping footsteps, no prattling conversations. So where was Madge? Where was Burke? And then, as if he had spoken these questions aloud, Fisher said to him:
"We have already taken Mr. Burke and Mrs. Hare into custody down at the station. We've already asked them a number of questions but felt that further inquiries needed to be made into the situation." Fisher paused; Will watched him exchange a look with Black, who nodded for him to continue. In that moment, Will felt the same kind of chill he'd experienced in front of the kirkyard; felt it crawl, like silken, slithery earthworms over his skin. Like he was a corpse in the grave. Then Fisher continued, driving home his words like nails into a coffin:
"And just how you answer these questions, Mr. Hare, will be the determining factor as to whether or not you'll be joining them this evening..."
Edinburgh, Scotland, Present Day
"We're going around in circles," Jack whined.
Jack and the Doctor were traversing yet another stone corridor with yet another red-tinted bulb set into a distant archway with yet another set of identical doorways leading off both left and right. The Doctor didn't respond to the complaint; he merely stopped to peer at the little green crystal in his sonic screwdriver as if he were checking the room's temperature. For all Jack knew, he was checking the room's temperature. The man's actions were completely unfathomable...
"I can't believe you're actually here alone," said Jack conversationally as he plodded behind the Doctor, who veered off sharply into another long room. "You never travel alone."
"Oh, I'm not really alone. My two companions are currently off enjoying their honeymoon."
Jack raised an eyebrow at this information. "You're taking on married couples now? Wow, that's kinky..."
"I know it's a somewhat difficult exercise for you Jack, but could you please get your mind out of the gutter?"
"I guess the policy 'what happens in the TARDIS, stays in the TARDIS,' is still in effect, huh? Hey-you still got that hot tub in your kitchen?"
"Shut up, you! Oh, ugh, now that is revolting! Gah!" The Doctor turned back around and plowed straight into Jack. And Jack, grabbing him by the shoulders, simply smirked and said:
"Throwing yourself at me already, eh? See, the old Harkness charm never fails-"
"-creepy dolls!" squeaked the Doctor, pointing back over his shoulder.
Jack grabbed the light on the Doctor's hat and swiveled it back towards the wall. It was true. There were dolls. Rows upon rows of dolls, sitting clumped together on the ground. Dolls with dirty, cracked porcelain faces and blank expressions and frilly, fraying dresses. Jack suddenly remembered.
"Hey! Ianto said something about dolls earlier."
"Ianto?"
"Yey, one of my team members. We got separated down here. I...uhm, I kind of lost him."
"That's very careless of you, Jack. Misplacing someone like that."
"What? Are you kidding me? You are the master of losing people."
"I do not lose people. They wander off on their own. And usually after I have specifically told them not to-"
Leave now...
A hushed whisper cut through the chamber, and the Doctor grabbed onto Jack, holding him in a death grip. It looked like they were embracing. Instead of getting mad, Jack merely held on, enjoying the sensation. A sense of guilt pricked at his conscience like a needle as he thought of Ianto, lost somewhere in the catacombs. Ianto, who was going to be pissed because he had missed their date at the Witchery. Ianto, the person he was currently sleeping with. Ianto, who would give him more than just his usual disapproving frown if he could see him with the Doctor right now...
"Jack, I do hope that's your revolver I'm feeling right now."
Jack and the Doctor sprang apart, just as the light over the doorway began to flicker off and on. Another whisper, belonging to the voice of a little girl, said:
He's coming...
Jack and the Doctor looked at one another in mirroring horror, and they sprinted out of the chamber containing the shrine of dolls. They stalled in the long corridor, unsure as to which way to go.
"Should we-"
"Maybe that way-"
"No, that way-"
"No, I think perhaps-"
A strange thumping sound echoed through the hallway: plunk-plunk-plunk! The Doctor aimed his light at the floor, revealing a little red and white ball bouncing across the ground, a child's rubber ball which rolled to a stop by his feet. Jack gazed at the object in wide-eyed terror. "Oh, that's not good."
"No," said the Doctor, with an excited expression of dawning comprehension. "It is good." The Doctor picked up the little ball and tossed it back into the darkness, back down the corridor from which it came. "Come on, let's go. We follow the bouncing red dot." The Doctor took off down the hallway, and Jack followed behind him, the two of them careening through various archways as the lights overhead pulsed and dimmed, painting them burning red one moment, then icy blue the next. Behind them, in the distance, there was the echoing sound of loud, stomping footsteps.
"It's him again," muttered Jack darkly.
"It's okay. She's leading us out." The Doctor stopped to pick up the rubber ball which had rolled back to his feet again. Again, he tossed it back down the corridor and followed behind it. The lights overhead flickered once, twice, then died altogether. Jack felt the air go cold, and his nerves grew tense at the unseen threat that loomed somewhere in the darkness. The Doctor kept repeating the exercise with the ball, as Jack mentally prayed for the little girl-or entity or spirit or whatever it was-to hurry up and get them out of there.
There was the sound of heavy, erratic breathing, the sound of clomping footsteps. Do not look back...do not look back...do not look back... Jack mentally repeated to himself as he stumbled on through the blackness a few paces behind the Doctor, who was little more than a bouncing torch beam in the dark. There was the sudden unexpected flash of a strobe light, revealing a cast of shadows on the ground: one, two, three. Three! Jack froze. "Doctor," he whispered. "I think he's here."
"Move, Jack, move!" Jack felt the Doctor grab the collar of his coat, felt himself being propelled forward. "Snap out of it; we're almost there. Can't you feel the change in the quality of the air?" The hand on the back of his coat was there, then suddenly gone. Somewhere in the darkness before him he heard the Doctor say, "Oh...hello. It's you."
He watched the Doctor's torch beam play over the worn, gray steps of a curving stairway. A-ha! A curving stairway! Jack had no doubt that it was the same one he and Ianto had used to get down into the vaults. Yes! Freedom! Jack hurried toward the steps, but was stopped by the Doctor at the base. "Careful. She's shy," the Doctor whispered quietly. It was only then that Jack noticed that the Doctor's gaze was trained on something near the top of the stairwell. In the beam of light, Jack saw a flash of little brown boots, the pale hem of a gown.
The Doctor's hand was pressed firmly against his chest, holding him back. "Don't look at her face, Jack," warned the Doctor. Jack tore his gaze away from the stairs to stare at the Doctor. His expression was one of sorrow, his head bowed in an attitude of regret. What's wrong with her face? thought Jack. She isn't wearing a gas mask, is she? The border of the beam stopped at the girl's knees; it went no further. After a moment, the brown lace-up boots turned and went up the stairwell, slipping silently, silkily away into the velvety blackness. Jack felt the Doctor's hand fall away. "Come on, let's go," he said, and he began to climb the steps. Jack followed behind him, followed him up to the entryway, the entryway which ended with a decades-old wooden door. An old, heavy door with a rusty iron grill set into it, the opening of which had the sweet scent of the chilled night air wafting through it. Through the iron slats, Jack could make out the starry night of the Edinburgh sky.
"Yes!" Jack all but kicked the wooden door open, and he bounded out triumphantly into the night air. Behind him, he heard the Doctor speaking softly into the vault: "Don't worry, dear. I promise I'll come back one day and figure out a way to get you out of here..." Jack felt elated with his new found freedom. Just then, his phone buzzed, spasming like a trapped insect in his pocket. He took it out and flipped it open. "Jack Harkness speaking." On the other end of the line was Ianto's voice, an almost tangible feeling of relief melting through his words:
"Jack! Thank God! I thought I'd lost you for good!"
"Aw, c'mon now, you know you can't get rid of me that easily, Jones." Then: "Where are you?"
"Back at the hub with Albert."
"Stay there. We're coming to you."
"We?"
"Yes, we. I have a special visitor here that I want you to meet in person."
"Oh? Who?"
"The Doctor."
End Chapter 9.
