Doctor Who: ALBION - Countdown
Chapter 33 - Nightmares
Disclaimer - I don't own nothing or nobody you know/recognize. Doctor Who is intellectual property of the BBC, afaik.
Characters: Gleeson!Doctor, Markham, River, Jack, OCs
Abraxas swung his sword as hard as he could. Vislor winced behind his shield. "Too much for you?" the governor teased.
"Never!" the de-aged former pilot boasted right before the next blow sent him stumbling into the sand of the training pit.
"You were saying?" the ginger warrior smirked.
"You forgot something-" Vislor dared as he rose and lashed out, "-to shave this morning!"
His swing nearly took the governor's head had he not blocked it with his own sword. Abraxas twisted the other man's blade away, then charged with his own in the same move. Vislor barely got his shield up in time to parry the blows, which now seemed to come in a flurry now that he had no offense.
Abraxas forced him back to the ground, striking his shield again and again until it cracked. "I YIELD!" he finally cried, expecting the next blow to be the last. He opened his eyes to find the governor's blade inches from his face, fury in the eyes that lay behind it.
The next few seconds seemed like hours to the beaten man.
"All right then," Abraxas finally smiled, his blade sliding into it's scabbard in one quick, swift move. "Your turn to make dinner tonight, lad." He turned and began to walk away.
Vislor sat there stunned for a moment before he rose and grabbed his weapon from the sands. Before he realized what he was doing, the blade was hurtling at Abraxas' back. The man barely missed a step as he spun and deflected the throw with his shield. Anger flashed in his eyes once more.
"And desert!"
Vislor shook his head and started to pick up their remaining equipment. He glanced around to the other practice duels taking place in the Arena, when one young man caught his eye. He had a slight build, with a round head and smaller ears that seemed to stick out perpendicular to his head. He wore light armor, with a sword on his hip, and a shield slung over the opposite shoulder.
"How goes it?" he asked with a smile.
"Got me arse handed to me. Again," Vislor admitted.
"That wasn't the governor, was it? He looked familiar?" He was looking the same direction the large ginger had left.
This made him stop. "Why would you want to know?"
"Hm? Oh, no reason. I just thought he looked familiar, is all," he claimed. "Are you done for the day, or would you fancy another sparring partner?"
Vislor gave him another once over, sizing him up. "I've got an hour before I need to be anywhere," he smirked. This would be too easy, he thought, and good for getting his confidence back up after yet another thrashing by Abraxas.
They made light chitchat as they began testing each other, both growing bolder with each strike and parry. After ten minutes, Vislor finally managed to disarm the man and sent his sword flying.
The man blocked another strike with his shield before attempting to dive after his weapon. Vislor saw he rolled right past it and had something in his hand as turned back. A quick motion and the object was flying low at him. Vislor tried to jump over it, but the bolo caught one of his feet, sending him off balance as he landed. Scrambling to regain his footing, he couldn't avoid the net that followed, finding himself bound and off balance again, the man charged and knocked him to the ground. The man pinned him down and Vislor saw his expression change, from gleeful smile to sinister grin.
"I'm sorry," he growled in a voice deeper than the one he had been speaking in. His eyes seemed to change and Vislor could feel the man's body shifting.
"W-what's happening?"
The man snarled then let loose an earsplitting scream as his body began contorting even more and began growing hair. Vislor began screaming for help and saw numerous combatants had stopped to see what was wrong. They were too far away to help.
In less than a minute, the man astride him was gone, replaced by a feral beast. It looked down upon Vislor and snarled again. Before he could react, the creature clamped it's jaws around his throat.
In the stands, a man smiled in triumph then disappeared.
Akasha woke to the sound of the engines of reality grinding. She recalled she had been dreaming of a man. A handsome man, who asked a boon of her. She wondered if she had made her decision when the noise woke her. She pulled on her gi and went to see what her current sensei was up to this time, where they had landed.
He had been in a mad state these last weeks, their previous encounters with the gods of the North and the machines sent to kill the playwright had given him new purpose. She entered the control room to see him about to depart.
"Where are we?" she inquired as he reached for the door.
He hesitated when he saw her. "Nowhen."
"I do not understand?"
"Do not follow me," he warned. "What is outside this door is not for your eyes. I mean it."
She nodded. "As you say."
He gave her an odd look as he stepped outside. From her vantage point, she could see the spherical room beyond.
Ebon marble made up the floor and ceiling. The walls were a billion trillion diamond mirrors. All transparent. Beyond them, a dais with eight chairs, but only two were occupied. She blinked and the row of eight became circles of seven, but the two seated remained.
The features of the one she could not see clearly, behind her veil, only that she was feminine and kind, but her presence was as chilling as it was warm. This was dichotomous to the other's masculine and [aloofness/passion/sovereignty]. The other's face was the handsome man from her dream. His appearance changed the more she looked at him. His constantly changing/flowing hair matched his dress. He wore an ebon [coat/cloak/robe/jacket and jeans] that seemed to draw in the light, appearing flat one moment, and deeper than night the next. His eyes were bluer than the sky, but they were still ebon as his cloak. The light that it reflected seemed to have been drawn from the diamond stars of the night, and gave their light to the diamonds on the wall. Or was it the other way around? Both and neither at the same time?
A third being stepped toward him, but Akasha could not tell whether it was man, woman, or something else? They wore a large headdress over a [robe/cloak/coat], covering the shoulders and fanning out behind the head, and carried a staff, curled at the top, like some symbol she had seen on a few items in the Doctor's wardrobe depths. Everything changed even as she tried to focus on one aspect. S/He was ambiguity defined, she later realized, and they were the Doctor's [representative/counsel/interpreter/avatar].
Both beings on the dais seemed to welcome and regard the Doctor's arrival as unwanted intrusion. Even his appearance seemed to be changing, he was [younger/older/taller/shorter/dark clothes/motley] The more she saw, the more her head hurt at the conflicting information. She saw the Time Lord raise his hand and snap his fingers. The TARDIS doors snapped shut, saving her mind from total meltdown.
"What brings you before us, child of Gallifrey?"
"I seek something I have lost," he replied, taking a knee.
"Rise old friend," she insisted.
"How can you lose what you never truly had?"
"My children. I entrusted them to a friend, for their education, but they have eluded me," he explained. "The place where they stayed was destroyed. I must know if they live, so that-"
"For what reason would we help you, self-named Lord of Time?" came the contemptuous reply.
"You, who have cheated me of your presence time and again?" she asked. For a moment, she took the face of one dear to him, now lost. "And helped create another now denied me?"
A flash of anger went through him at this, but he maintained his respect to these beings. "A dark force seeks out my allies, those dear to me, throughout time. I fear for their safety, as well as how history could be changed, even destroyed if this madman is victorious."
"Your progeny is lost, but same seeks out same," she said.
"What? No," he denied. "When? Where? I can stop this!"
"You already have the answers you seek. They have been in your life far longer than you know. You are still not the Last of Gallifrey. You never have been."
"I don't- I don't understand?"
"They have given you answers before you question," she said.
"Seek out the Progeny to find the Progeny. The Darkness is your own doing. He is returning."
"Who? Who is returning?"
"One you have faced before. He weaves the Darkness around you, binding your Destiny. Seek the Balance."
"Farewell, traveler," she said. "Trust in your own."
"Where do I start?"
"Retrace your steps to find your Destiny."
The last words chilled him to the bone. "Face the Bad Wolf."
The same instant, he felt gravity leave him, falling, tumbling up, pushing him back into nothing. He landed on the floor of the TARDIS, Akasha leaning over him.
"You just appeared?"
"So I gathered," he grunted as he sat up. "What did you see out there?"
She shuddered at the memory. "A dream. A nightmare."
"I told you not to look," he said as he rose and went to the controls.
"Where are we?"
"More like where were we," he corrected. "According to this, we never moved from where we left?" She was tempted to ask more, but the furrow of concentration on his face told her it would be best not to.
Jack and John sat quietly at the kitchen table as the others had settled in for the night. John nodded at the figure standing in the corner. "Doesn't he sleep?"
Jack glanced up from the test results Martha had managed to run on him the day before. They were not encouraging. "Not as much as he should be," he replied. "According to these, He has bone structure, but it's pliable, and the muscles and organs are, well, we're not entirely sure?"
"So he is a Flesh then? Walking silly putty," Hart smirked. He glanced toward one of the bedrooms, where a creaking sound finally climaxed with a loud groan.
Jack frowned. "Don't."
"What?" John asked, feigning an obviously insincere look of innocence.
"Don't talk about him like that, and don't get any ideas about what's going on in there," he warned, tossing a nod towards the doppelganger of Ianto then the door the sounds had come from.
"So what are we going to do about him then?"
Jack shook his head. "I don't know."
"So when you say he has no internal organs-?"
Jack glared at him.
"No, seriously, is it only outward appearances, or, you know, 'Ken doll'?"
"Shut. Up. John." he warned again. No need to tell his associate that he had helped Martha with the exams, including helping strip Ianto down fully so he could see for himself. At first glance, the doppelganger looked like his late lover, but the MRI revealed a different story internally. Hart's 'silly putty' comment was closer to the truth than he wanted to believe. This was no man, and it certainly wasn't Ianto, but it still bore his likeness. And memories. Only it shouldn't be. Flesh required a remote operator, he recalled. Ianto was long dead, so this clone shouldn't be running around with his memories.
Any further conversation came to a halt as one of the bedroom doors opened. Rhys walked out wearing only his size-too-small borrowed jeans. "What's up boys?" he greeted them and took up a spot behind Jack, grabbing his shoulders.
"Giving the little lady a break?" John teased. Both men could smell the sex on him, but John kept his mouth shut, knowing Jack would only yell at him again.
"She can't get enough of me, lately," he boasted, massaging Jack's shoulders.
Jack gave a brief moan of appreciation, letting his head loll around to his shoulder, then back. "Thanks, Rhys, that feels really-" The back of his head brushed against something it shouldn't have. His eyes popped open and he tried to sit up. "What's going on?"
"Hm? Nothing, mate, why?" he asked as even John raised a curious eyebrow at the sight before him. Rhys seemed to have a deathgrip on Jack's shoulders and he was pulling him closer. Propriety made Jack pull away.
"We were just having a chat about what to do with tall, silent, and creepy in the corner there," John offered, unable to look away and silently wishing he was one of the other men. It didn't matter to him which.
Rhys nodded to Gloucester sleeping on the couch in the living room. "What about him, then?" There was a pillow obviously propped against his midsection.
"I'm trying to sleep without getting molested again," James harrumphed, lifting his sleep mask and opening one eye to glare at Hart.
The other two looked at John as well. "What? No harm in relieving a bit of tension between friends, is there?"
"You ain't my friend," James warned. "Touch me again and Harkness will have to find a new girlfriend."
John started to say something, but Jack interrupted him. "Why don't you sit down, Rhys? My neck's fine," he advised, twisting away from his friend's unusual actions.
Rhys leaned over Jack to see the medical records. "You're plotting, right? Don't you need something to write your plans down on?" he asked, finally releasing Jack and heading to a counter drawer. "I thought I saw some notebooks in here, earlier?"
John and Jack couldn't help but notice Rhys' obvious current physical state as he pulled out the notepads, oblivious to their stares. He flipped through one before tossing it on the table.
"Or maybe not? These are already full of some oddball writing?" he noted, tossing one after another onto the table in front of Jack. He stopped and glanced at one. "Hold on, this has your name on it?" he said, tossing one to John.
Jack was already glancing through the first notebooks when he looked up at his friend. "What?"
Hart was written in English on the cover of the notebook Rhys had just tossed on the table. "Here's one for you, Jack?" he said, glancing at another, then pulling out more. "And Gloucester? Martha? Ianto? Gwen? Tosh? Me?" he sounded perplexed. "What's going on here, Jack?" He flipped open the one with his name and sat down at the table after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "It's unreadable? Looks Greek and some oddball circles?"
John and Jack had already started reading through their own notepads. Both looked up at each other at the same time. "I haven't seen writing like this since-?"
Jack nodded. "The Agency. What's going on here?"
"Hold on, wasn't there some writing like this in Albion?" Rhys asked, looking up from his own book at Jack. John raised an eye at this.
Gloucester had stumbled into the kitchen area. "What are you lot on about?" he asked as Rhys handed him his own notes.
"Will was taking notes on each of us," Jack informed them, concentrating on the notes. "These are old, really old, though? Older than they should be?"
Hart was examining the notepads themselves. "This paper isn't from this time," he announced. "The feel, the production, it isn't from this time period?"
Rhys spoke up. "He's another time traveler like the Doctor, right? Could he have written them in a future period, then hidden them here as a warning to us?"
"Not a warning. That wouldn't explain why he wrote them in a language only a handful of us could read," Jack noted.
"What about River?" Hart offered.
Gloucester glanced up at the two Time Agents. "Who?"
Rhys rose suddenly, grabbing the water, his and Gwen's notebooks. "I'll be right back," he said, purposely gripping Jack's shoulder as he passed. Jack tried to ignore the obvious, but caught John smirking at it once more, and James doing a doubletake on seeing the shirtless man's shameless prominence as he crossed the room.
"Bloody hell," James muttered under his breath. "What is it with you lot?" he groused.
"Leave it," Jack warned. "We have bigger things to worry about right now," he reminded them before realizing his Freudian slip. Hart snickered as James groaned, thinking it was a terrible pun. "Start reading," Jack warned them.
The two Time Agents struggled with trying to decipher their notebooks. Gloucester flipped through his in confusion, as the Greek was a variant dialect he was unused to, even if he were able to read it. All three tried to ignore the renewed creaks coming from the bedroom minutes later.
Jack silently wondered where this change in behavior came from, and if the transfusion of his own blood to save Rhys' life was responsible. If it was, how long would it last? He glanced to James, who had been forced to imbibe and was slathered in the blood, as well, not to mention the fact James said Abaddon admitted to having Ianto's clone injected, as well. Rex claimed his transfusion used to help end the 'Miracle Day Incident' was slowly wearing off, but how long would these three be affected, and what would happen with Abaddon? He had practically become a vampire while holding Jack captive.
All the while, none of them had caught the jealous looks coming from the other man in the room.
Will Markham glanced over the departing students after releasing them to their next class. The young boy who would one day call himself John Hart showed no sign of remembering what Will had callously done to him. The subconscious thoughts would be buried for decades until they would be needed centuries in the past. Knowing the boy would survive that long was one of the few comforts Will had, and the fact he would be allied with the prize pupil who would become Jack Harkness was something he couldn't have planned any better.
Still, there were nagging thoughts in his head. He couldn't discuss them with Abraxas, who had his own agenda to take care of to ensure the past as well as his own future. There was only one he could discuss them with. Luckily, he was visiting the planet that weekend. Will could be patient a few more hours until he had a chance for a private chat with the...person? Entity. He had already made preparations to have Jack away so he wouldn't cross paths, but knowing Jack, he wouldn't want to pass up an opportunity like this.
As his appointment time neared, he checked the contents of his case once more. He knew he had packed all the information he had collected and that there were only a handful who could read his notes. He knew that he would have to teach the boys his code for the plan to work, but that could wait for now.
Will closed the case and headed to the transmat, teleporting to the pre-arranged meeting site. The transmat attendants seemed bored, doing their job out of habit, uncaring who came or went as long as their credentials checked out. He headed to the office for his meeting, pressing his palm against the door scanner and waited for permission to enter.
When the door slid open, he saw the large tank on the far side of the room. Someone in a hooded robe stood quietly to one side. The attendant, he surmised. He stepped into the room and approached the visitor.
"I have the materials you requested," he declared, holding the case slightly ahead of him.
"That is...good," the booming voice came from inside the tank and inside his head. "You are well?"
"As well as can be expected for someone of my advanced age," he replied, approaching the tank. "Then again, not all of us get near as many as others," he smirked.
"Would that I...had my old body again...my friend."
Will laid his hand on the glass. "We had a few laughs, didn't we?" he mused. "I know I don't have too long left, but you? You must be lonely already."
"You've never really known...loneliness like this, old friend."
"I know it well enough in my heart," Will said. "Sometimes, it's all I think of. If it weren't for the plan-"
"We must take the next step...to ensure time remains unbroken."
Will nodded. "I've written down as much as I remember. I hope that's enough."
The hooded figure stepped forward. "It will have to be."
Will did a doubletake at the woman's familiar voice. "River?"
She pushed the hood back and smiled. "Hello, sweetie."
He went to embrace her. "You look great."
"Oh stop," she teased as she took the case from him. "Everything is in here?"
He nodded again. "Are you ready for this?"
She smirked. "I learned from the best," she smiled. "Take care, Will. I'll see you soon enough."
He gave her a sad smile as she kissed his cheek. "I remember. Be careful. All my love to long ago."
She nodded in return, then touched the strap on her arm. "Later, boys." She vanished into the past in a flash of light.
Will leaned against the glass partition and gave a heavy sigh, pressing his head against the wall. "All that's left for me now is teaching the kids, then rescuing her, right?"
Silence was his reply.
Will looked into the large face on the other side of the glass. "I'm tired. I want this over. I miss...everyone."
"You need to watch the boys."
"yeah, I guess," he sighed. One of the tentacle pods wafted towards him. Will placed his hand on the glass where it was reaching. "I have this really unruly kid in my class, though. Everyone calls him the 'Face of Boe'. Sometimes I just want to smack him, you know?"
The sound that erupted from inside the tank could barely be described as laughter. "I remember. Stay strong, old friend. I will be with you, always."
Will nodded as they shared a brief touching of minds through their respective limbs. This was the closest either could now feel connected with anyone, anymore. He also knew this would likely be the last he saw of his old friend.
Abaddon knelt over the limp body of Belew. He twisted the ebon ring on his finger. "Master, I call upon you," he chanted.
For a moment, nothing happened. He felt no change in his surroundings. He moved to give the ring another twist when something touched his shoulder. "Rise."
Abaddon did as he was told. "I have everything in readiness here, Master. I only require this sacrifice into time for the final piece."
"What would you have me do with him?" the man in black inquired, barely sparing a glance at the body.
"I have made contact with the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe. He will be their tribute."
The other's only reaction was a callous "Interesting."
"For this, they will allow us the access we require."
"And then what?"
"We will have our revenge on the meddlers."
"We?"
Abaddon took a knee. "My pardons, Master. You will have your revenge against him and his compatriots."
The Dark Elder was not swayed. "What of your other plottings? How do they fare?"
"All proceeds apace. We only require the sampling to move forward."
"Very well," the man said.
Abaddon looked up to see he was alone. Even Belew's body was gone. On his desk was the object he required. He picked up the box and headed back to the laboratories. Everyone he passed moved out of his way in deference.
As he entered and approached the Auton crafted astronaut suit, he pressed a control and the chest panel opened. Placing the box inside, he made the handful of connections required before closing it once more. He glanced to one of the Raxacoricofallapatorians and nodded.
"Readings are building. Leveling off. It seems to be working, sir," the large green, long armed alien informed him.
The Auton's face shield opened, a blue light erupted and scanned Abaddon as he stood in front of it. Moments later, the body began shifting, reorganizing itself, pouring around and onto the man before it.
"Excellent." He touched the control strap on his arm and disappeared. Moments later, his double spoke with his voice as it began to move. "Controls are a little sluggish, but that is to be expected at this point."
Inside the transformed Auton's control room, Abaddon was strapped in like a marionette. He could pull his arms free to operate the control panel in front of him. He punched in the first set of coordinates. His double disappeared from the laboratory.
Abraxas glanced up from his PAD as the doctor approached him. He had busied himself with the usual paperwork while he waited. Nothing to much out of the ordinary, aside from a report of a random space freighter losing contact with their destination port. Only the name caught his brief attention, the Madame du Pompadour, as he recalled the name from the teachings of his youth. Some duties could not be delayed even for medical emergencies, it seemed.
The look on the doctor's face was not a happy one. "How is he?"
"We expect your associate to make a full recovery, but it will take time," the blue skinned woman informed him.
Abraxas didn't have to guess there was more to it. "And?"
"There, ah, there seems to be some sort of viral infection?" she admitted. "The nanogenes are useless against it. Everything else, the physical damage, that just needs time to heal, but this virus? We've never encountered it's like before."
"Take me to him. I want to see this virus for myself."
She lead him to the room where Vislor was laid out on a surgery table being scanned by the nanogene scanner. Touching a screen by the bed, she pointed out the spreading infection. "It seems to be altering his DNA at the most basic level, shrugging off any repairs our nanogenes attempt. We have no idea what we could be dealing with at the moment."
Abraxas studied the scans. "Did you examine the attacker? Compare their infection against this?"
"Yes, well, ah, there seems to be a problem there?" she stammered.
Abraxas turned and glowered at her. "Problem?"
"Yes, ah, the man's body? It, ah, it shows no sign of any sort of infection," she explained. "In fact, how do I say this?"
"It's as if he was never infected to begin with?" he finished. "Am I right?" She nodded reluctantly. "I want to see him, his scans, everything we have."
She nodded again and moved to leave. He only stayed long enough to glance back at his friend. Vislor aka Dave looked different, older, somehow. The doctor lead him to another room, but it was empty. She stopped short, then began looking around for any sign of the man. There was none. She consulted her own PAD to make sure she had the right room. The records came up empty, only showing Vislor having been brought in from the Arena.
Abraxas scowled and touched his PAD. "Lock down the hospital!" he yelled into the device. "I want Vislor's attacker in custody within the hour!" Alarms began ringing and the pair could hear people scrambling down the hall as they moved to secure the building.
He returned to his friend's bedside. Looking at the man, he could now see that he was visibly aging before his eyes. His muscles were twitching as well, as the virus took hold, beginning his transformation.
His PAD dinged. New messages, he saw. He was about to flip it back to command mode when he saw who the sender was. He chanced opening her message. He was glad he did. He quickly forwarded the message to Jenny, hoping she would arrive in time. No sooner had he made the adjustments the message suggested to his own Sonic than Vislor's transformation began to take hold.
He slammed the quarantine control on the room as his friend had woken and began screaming from the physical pain his body was going through as it contorted into the creature his brief sparring opponent had become. The doctor and hospital staff would be protected for now, he knew, but at this moment, he was the only thing that stood between them and the chaos of the feral beast that arose from the bed Vislor had lain moments before.
"Come at me then, creature," he goaded.
Jack stood on the flat's balcony watching the sun rise. John and James had finally crashed hours before. What little he could decipher from the notebooks ran through his head. He heard the balcony door open and could smell the coffee. A cup was held out before him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Gwen answered. Jack did a double take, expecting someone else. "I'd almost argue his coffee tastes even better now than...than it did-"
Jack nodded as he took a sip. "I'm surprised you're up already." The implication was clear. "Everything okay?"
She gave him an amused nod. "Speaking of better than before," she teased before turning serious. "Jack, tell me this will wear off soon?"
"I'm not sure what to tell you?"
"It's not that," she paused, trying to voice her concern. "It's not that I'm not enjoying it, but there comes a point where I'm beginning to worry."
"Rex told me he was feeling better, but he said there were no noticeable side effects?" he informed her. "I'm not sure why Rhys is suddenly so, ah?"
"Randy?" she smirked.
"That's one word for it, yes," he smiled. "Were things different before all this?"
"We were back to our, um, routine, now that Anwen was sleeping regularly, but I wonder if he isn't scared of what happened to him? Or worse, thinking that getting me pregnant again will make me stay home and safe?"
"I'm going to guess he'd be wrong?"
"Don't you start," she warned. "I mean, I know this isn't the life I wanted, but to give it up, even for a little while?"
"Even for the sake of your family?"
She didn't answer.
"I know the feeling. I wouldn't give up this life for Lucia, and she had to leave me, eventually." The thought of missing his daughter Melissa grow up as 'Alice' still haunted him, even more so when he was forced to sacrifice her son, his grandson, to stop the 456. He put a comforting arm around Gwen. "I don't want that to happen to you and Rhys, if only for your children's sake."
She smiled at the thought and leaned into him before it occurred to her. "Wait, what do you mean children?"
Jack fumbled for an answer when a thrumming vibration shook the flat. No, the whole building he realized as car alarms began going off for blocks around. "What was that?"
They both turned to go back inside when the next wave hit them. It felt as if a sonic boom had erupted inside the apartment. They ran in to find Gloucester stumbling to his feet and Rhys exiting his room. Gwen ran to her husband as Jack reached to help James up from nearly tripping over the still sleeping Hart. Jack could hear mixed shouts of confusion from the Smith-Jones bedroom, as he looked to see where Ianto was. He stood in his corner, a worried expression on his face, as he finally reacted, reaching out toward Jack.
Gwen was inches away from Rhys when the next pulse tore through the flat, whiting out everything.
The TARDIS landed at the Torchwood Estate once more. The Doctor exited and began scanning the grounds once more with his Sonic. Akasha followed him out, surveying the remains.
"Tell me if you spy anything unusual," he told her.
"Besides a village burned to the ground?"
"Not a village, an estate," he corrected. "One main building, several outbuildings. You've got castles, or at least town centers back home, don't you? Same idea, only for a smaller scale."
She shook her head. "Why must you always claim what is not yours? Nature endures, we are only temporary, as must our dwellings be."
"Speak for yourself," he muttered under his breath.
"Is your wife anything unusual?" she asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain it to you," he replied. "She's also standing behind me, isn't she?"
"Hello, sweetie," came the reply along with her hand sliding up his spine. "I'd wondered what was keeping you." He saw she had a satchel slung over her shoulders.
"What have you learned?" he asked abruptly.
"Well, I have an idea of who has them, but I don't know where," she informed him.
"Not Abraxas."
"No, but how did you know?"
"We've run into him. He seems to have sacrificed his life so Akasha and I could go keep Shakespeare safe," he informed her.
"How is Will? I haven't seen him since-"
He held up his hand. "I know who Abraxas is. He also knows that Abaddon is behind this. I need to know where Abaddon is, and why he wants to hurt us."
Akasha sensed this was a conversation that was not for her ears. She began to walk off to examine the perimeter.
"You've met Abraxas? What did he tell you?"
"Enough."
"That's not an answer, sweetie."
"You're working with him."
"He told you that? Then he's-"
He grabbed her wrist. "No more games, River. He knew we'd find you on Barcelona. He was the one who saved you from the Library, wasn't he? What else is he up to?"
She pulled away. "You don't have the slightest clue, do you? You think you do, but it's all guesses, and you may be right, I'm not saying you are, but you aren't even close to the truth." She reached into her satchel and pulled out several notebooks. "Here, a bit of reading material. Make it quick, I need to plant them in Markham's apartment."
He took the top notebook and flipped through it. "What is this? Part Gallifreyan, part...is this Greek? It looks different, some dialect I've never seen before? How is that even possible?"
"It's a log, a debriefing, if you will."
He looked up at her. "Of what?"
"Of the battle to come. I've made some preparations, but I can't do everything." She looked into his eyes. "I need your help."
He glanced down at the writing again. "Markham. This is his writing. You're working with Markham. He stole our children and destroyed any evidence that-"
She slapped him.
"Don't you ever-!"
"You deny this is Will's handiwork?"
"No. There are bigger things happening than you realize," she told him. "Our children, Will, they're being used to get to us. The very thing we were so afraid of, the reason we left them here with Will. We tried to keep them safe, but he used that against us. Abaddon knew our every move before we could make it. Do you know why?"
He was silent for a long moment. "Whatever's coming, Will survived it. If he wrote it all down for us, then-"
She slapped him again. "You still don't get it, do you?"
Before he could answer, the air grew still for a brief second before it erupted around them. He yelled for Akasha, but could see she was already moving toward them, heading for the safety of the TARDIS. Another blast knocked them all to their feet. He pushed River up and towards the TARDIS as Akasha caught up to them. The next blast made everything go white.
She took a deep breath and rang the bell. She could hear someone shuffling around inside. Taking a quick glance about the street, she pushed up her sunglasses. It wouldn't do to be exposed at this point. The door finally opened and she took the sight of the man in.
Frumpy was the first word that came to mind, but he also had a quiet dignity about him. He carried a small plastic watering can in one hand. She could see the other man in her life in the way he carried himself. It brought a smile to her face.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I was looking for Amy and Rory?" she replied. "I don't suppose they're in?"
He seemed nervous and fumbled for an answer. "N-No, they're away at the moment. I'm Rory's father. Can I help you?"
"Of course you are, sweetie," she said, still holding her smile. "No, I was just...I was just passing through the neighborhood and thought I would drop in. I told Amy I would drop those pictures off, that we had talked about." She began digging in her satchel.
He stood back and motioned for her to enter. "Well, I guess you could leave them here? What did you say your name was?"
She paused in her digging and removed her glasses. "Melody. My name is Melody."
"Oh, really? The kids have a friend named Melody, but she insists on calling herself Mels," he chuckled. "Heck of a coincidence, you ask me."
"Yes. Yes, it is," she replied, handing him a packet of photos and a book. "You'll see that she gets these? I don't mind if you want to take a look." Her face was full of expectation. "It's just my husband and our twins on our last vacation together."
"Oh, I don't know," he hesitated. "I really don't have that many of Rory from when he was little, and I'm not pushing them to have kids. Yet." He said this last with a bit of a wink as he started glancing through the photos. "They travel so much, and, well, they're young, they still have plenty of time. He's always wanted his own kids, ever since he was little, though. When he went into medical practice, I really thought he'd go into pediatrics."
"Did they say when they would be back?" she casually inquired, forcing her smile, now, watching his reactions as he sorted through. He didn't seem to realize that most of the tableaux were taken on alien planets, but then, her husband said he had taken his first journey into space as if it happened everyday. She guessed he probably assumed they were altered with, what was it called these days, photoshop?
"Hmm? No, something about seeing a friend?" he half lied, then stopped and looked at one picture again. His hand started shaking. In the background, behind Melody and her two young boys was a blue box. A police box. One he had seen before, only recently. He flipped through the pictures again and saw it in the background of several more. The man in the photos he assumed to be Melody's husband looked nothing like the odd-looking skinny young man that had inadvertently kidnapped him, his son, and his wife mere weeks ago. This man was an older and more robust man with ginger hair. He looked back up at the tall blonde.
"Hello, Brian," she said.
"I-I don't-?" he stammered. The next word out of his mouth came unbidden. "Melody?" He knew it was her, Mels, but unsure how she had changed her appearance, much less the Doctor. (Wait, her "husband"?)
"Hello," she said again. "It's nice to see you again."
He hugged her tight. She returned the embrace.
"Are-Are they alright? I mean-?"
"I'm sure they're fine. I just seem to have mistimed this visit," she lied to assured him. She made a point of glancing at the calendar on the wall. "Besides, I don't think my next visit to them has happened quite yet? That's when they will be born, Alistair and Jamie," she informed him, pointing out each in a photo. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but we had to keep their existence secret for now."
He wiped away the tears as he looked through the photos once more. "Are you, then- I mean, are you the only one they have? The only grandchild I'll see?"
"I'm afraid so, but we visited here as often as we could, as long as we could," she told him, another half lie, she knew. "I'm sorry you won't be able to see them in person."
"You really brought these for me, didn't you?" It wasn't a question.
"Just don't tell them yet," she asked. "Spoilers."
Flipping through to the end of the stack, he realized he was also holding a book. "What about this, then?" He read the title: Melody Malone: Private Detective in Old New York.
"That is actually a present for him," she said. "The next time you see him, would you please slip that in his jacket pocket? It may just save Amy and Rory's lives, but they mustn't see it either."
He nodded understanding, then hugged her again. "I suppose you'll be leaving now?" he asked, realizing this visit was one of finality. He could tell wherever she was headed next, she wasn't sure if she would survive.
"I'm afraid so. I'm actually on my way to meet him right now."
"Well then," he shrugged, then gave her a salute. "Fight the good fight, and take care of all of them for me, will you?"
She returned the salute. "Of course I will," she replied, before adding "Granddad." She kissed him on the cheek and left.
Brian Williams stood there for a long moment, touching his cheek, staring at the door, then raced after her, to tell her- what? He wasn't sure, but there was no sign of her on the streets. He said nothing of the visit when the couple returned late that evening, ahead of schedule. The next morning when he woke early only to find the whole of the city, indeed the world, littered with small black boxes. He immediately made for his son's house once more. He almost forgot about grabbing the book.
TBC...
6/19/13
