A/N: Quite a long chapter from me today... I just couldn't stop writing... when there is Doctor angst around who would want to stop writing?


Chapter 12 - Consequences

The attack on the ferry had been the main topic on the news the very next day and John's kidnapping had finally been made public. Pete had tried to bar the papers from printing the story, but there were too many eye-witnesses to even stop that leakage. He held up the Daily Telegraph and read the front line. It was a report by journalist Sandy Newman, a respected journo who was known only to print the facts and only the facts, whereas other papers were already printing false-truths and making up quotes said by either him or his staff. His family home was being bombarded by telephone calls from editors wishing to talk to Rose about the kidnap of her fiancée, as well as a few paparazzi and journalists waiting day and night outside the gates of the Tyler mansion. He sighed, tired and weary from everything that had happened in the last few days. He continued to read the report and saw Sandy quoting his own statement to the press. Pete had made the decision to confirm the details of the case as the public had a right to know.

ROSE TYLER'S FIANCEE KIDNAPPED

FERRY HIJACKED

For what started out as a trip to Calais, France, turned to hell for passengers of a Dover ferry, two nights ago, as the ship was ambushed by one of the notorious gangs that are known to operate in London. Two casualties have been confirmed last night; however their identities have yet to be released by Torchwood.

However, the once-controversial Torchwood, now headed by multi-billionaire Pete Tyler, confirmed last night that his soon to be son-in-law had been kidnapped over a month ago in a daring raid on a shopping centre in London. He admitted he had barred the press from reporting this incident as he hoped to 'settle the matter privately'.

Mr Tyler confirmed that an exchange had taken place before the ferry raid, but refused to comment on what happened. Passengers aboard the ferry said that Mr Smith's condition was far from healthy. They have stated he was tied and gagged throughout the raid and remained unconscious for the majority of his time aboard.

The gang left the ferry, leaving passengers confused and dazed, wondering why the attack had taken place. All the passengers onboard have been asked to talk to Torchwood. Foreign authorities have been informed of Mr Smith's kidnap and are now working with Torchwood to ensure his safe return.

Pete Tyler issued this statement to the press late last night: "We are working day and night to regain Mr John Smith. He is not only going to be my son-in-law, he is also a great friend and a brilliant asset to Torchwood. To lose him will be a great shame. We will not stop until we have found him and arrested those that are responsible for his continued suffering. We ask members of the public to inform us of any suspicious people lurking around who may be connected to this case. We have issued a photograph of the man believed to be in command of the gang. I humbly ask for anyone to come forward and break their silence if they know of him."


Pete laid the newspaper on his desk and stood up, stretching his legs. He rubbed his weary eyes and picked up his phone. He pressed the button that would automatically connect him to his home. Jackie answered immediately.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, worry engraved in his voice.

"Alright, I guess," mumbled Jackie. "I feel so guilty, Pete, for what I did. I just made things worse..."

Pete was shaking his head even before his wife had finished. "No, you didn't. You did what you thought was right in the circumstances. You didn't want him to suffer, neither did I, but I feared something like this would happen. We can't change what has happened but we can continue to be strong and hope that soon we can retrieve John and bring him back home." He blew her a kiss down the phone line. "How is Rose?"

"Rose is doing ok. She's spending most of her time with Tony, it keeps her mind off what has happened."

"Good," said Pete, feeling reassured that his daughter was keeping herself busy through her brother. "And the reporters? Are they still out there?"

"Yes," replied Jackie, woefully. "I think more have arrived. They've even started to surround our gardens. We can't go anywhere without our photos being taken."

Pete growled in anger. "That's enough. I'm gonna call the President and ask him to issue an edict on our behalf banning anyone from approaching our home. It's not right you have to deal with this while I'm at the office most of the day."

Over the phone came the sound of crying. Pete recognised instantly that it was his son. Jackie's frantic voice came over the phone. "Sorry, Pete. I've gotta go. Tony 'as 'ad an accident. Tell you later." She abruptly put the phone down and Pete leaned back in his chair. It was only 11am and he was already wishing he was at home, despite the chaos he knew was raining.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he leaned forward and began to pour over more reports from his operatives. Right now he needed Kayleigh to be doing this job for him, but her betrayal had made it hard for him to trust anyone with the sensitive information he now held in his hands. Anyone that was a member of Torchwood could leak this information to the media. If James Keegan had still been alive, he would have asked him to handle this, but his death ensured that more responsibility was put on Pete's shoulders.


The Doctor had stayed in the back of the lorry with Kayleigh for two days while the lorry travelled throughout France and into Italy. Number Three remained in the back of the lorry with them but he spent the majority of his time away from them, giving them a little bit of privacy. The Doctor remained free from his bonds but he knew from hints from Kayleigh that this wasn't going to last long.

When the lorry stopped and the door opened, he knew that he had only one chance of escape, no matter how weak he felt. He had been told by Kayleigh that the benefactor behind his kidnapping didn't want him harmed, however he had sustained a bullet wound and now had a thumping headache from being hit in the head a bit too much. He could use that to his advantage.

Number Three stalked towards him, accompanied by three others. In his hand, Daryl held a gun and he pointed it at the Doctor's head, motioning for him to get up. He could see in the dim light shining through the lorry's door that one of the men next to Daryl was holding several lengths of rope. He had been right that he had little freedom before he was tied up again.

Placing a hand on the side of lorry where he was leaning, the Doctor struggled to get to his feet, whimpering in pain as he attempted to pull himself up on his wounded and bandaged arm. He was putting the pain he was in on a bit, but his ploy worked when Number Three lowered the gun and said to the man holding the ropes: "We won't need them. He's too weak to fight against us. I would have thought he might have regained some strength by now."

"You were meant to deliver me unharmed... tying me up won't do me any good..." the Doctor panted, as he locked gazes with his captor.

Two of the men strolled forward under Daryl's guidance and lifted him by his arms, being careful not to touch his wound. They helped him walk to the doors of the lorry where he was gingerly lifted to the ground. The Doctor looked around, noticing that he was on the edge of a beach, one that was deserted. He noticed a sign saying 'private property'. Obviously whoever owned the beach was the person who wanted him alive. Trepidation filled his stomach. Out to sea he could see the dim shape of an island in the distance. He assumed that was his destination.

He felt a prod in his back and he stumbled forward, nearly falling over as he was forced towards a motor boat that was moored to a cave wall further along the beach. He didn't have much time, so he acted, rather impulsively, but if he didn't try, he knew he would regret it. He pulled his arms out of the grips of the two gang members holding him, swinging one hand round to punch one of his captors in the face. Taking his chance, the Doctor made a run for it, his feet pounding in the sand, his one heart beating furiously inside his chest. He didn't dare look back, but he knew that they were on his trail, determined to recapture him.

He could feel his energy depleting. He barely had enough strength, but he had to keep on going. His head began to swim and his vision turned fuzzy. He tripped and fell onto his face, sand going up his nose and into his mouth. He coughed and spluttered and tried to get back to his feet, but he felt a boot on his back, pushing him back down and a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"That was not a wise move, Mr Smith," hissed Number Three in his ear, twisting his fingers into the Doctor's hair. His voice was filled with anger, and the Doctor was sure that if Daryl didn't have orders to deliver him unharmed he would have been punished for his little excursion.

His arms were pulled roughly behind him. His wrists were tied tightly together and the Doctor could feel pain emanating from the bullet wound in his shoulder. He had to ignore the pain. They wanted him to scream and he vowed not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him voice his agony. He was grabbed by his collar and forced to his feet. He now had no help from his captors. Daryl kept his gun pushed against the Doctor's back, his finger always on the trigger. The Doctor fell several times before they made it to the motor boat. They secured him to the side of the boat, just to be careful, in case their prisoner decided to take a leap of faith out of the boat and into the sea.

Throughout the journey to the island, Number Three kept his gun on the Doctor. Kayleigh sat beside him, biting her lip. As they neared the island, the Doctor saw dense jungle, but he could see smoke rising into the sky. Waiting by the harbour on the island was a group of Italian men, or so the Doctor guessed. They certainly looked Italian to him anyway.

The five Italian men helped tie the boat to the harbour before they hauled the Doctor to his feet and pushed him along the beach and into the dense jungle where it opened up into a carefully crafted path. The Doctor was pushed along it, stumbling every so often as he tried to keep up with the fast trek of his captors. Number Three and his entourage followed behind.

Eventually they came to a house, probably a house the same size as Pete's mansion, but one that looked like it had been very expensive to build. The Doctor was dragged through the front door where Number Three, Kayleigh and the remaining members of his party parted company with the Italian men and turned left in the hallway to enter a room which they Doctor could not see into from his position.

"So, what is this all about?" the Doctor asked casually, hoping to find out exactly what these people wanted him for.

"SHUT UP!" was the response.

"There was no need for that. I asked a reasonable question!" retorted the Doctor.

SLAP!

"Ow!" If he could have rubbed his cheek where one of the Italian men had slapped him, the Doctor would have done.

"If you say another word, then we will not hesitate to hurt you. You're in our territory now, Mr Smith. You'd better learn to control that mouth of yours if you want to remain unhurt!"

The Doctor kept his mouth shut, deciding that it would not be a wise move to test this man's patience. He allowed himself to be dragged further down the hall, towards a cell that had been specifically built for him in the basement of the mansion.


Daryl Ferguson knelt in front of Number One. The man was his Uncle, but he was still a formidable opponent and one not to be crossed. Kayleigh stood at the back of the hall with his other comrades in arms. Daryl raised his head and looked at Garav Shweninghar, his mother's brother. Garav had been a father to him since his own dad had died tragically in suspicious circumstances. He had vowed to serve Garav to repay him for all the things he had taught him. His mother had been Italian but his father British.

"Perhaps you can tell me why my prize has been harmed when I specified that he not be?" the cool voice of his Uncle sent shivers racing down Daryl's spine.

"It was unavoidable. In the exchange he sustained a bullet wound as Torchwood operatives tried to retrieve him. And on the ferry a passenger knocked into him, as I explained over the phone," replied Daryl.

"I am not interested in those injuries, Ferguson, I am interested in the ones he received in your care before the exchange was arranged. Did I not specify that no harm was to come to him? You failed me, and you know what happens when you fail."

Daryl trembled under his Uncle's steely glare. "I thought I was doing what was right in the situation before me. We needed the money, and I thought forcing his family to watch his suffering would make them pay the ransom."

Garav glared down at his nephew. "You still disobeyed my orders, Daryl. Therefore you shall pay the price." His Uncle looked up and he spoke to two Italian men who were standing behind Daryl. "Take Kayleigh to my chambers."

Daryl's eyes widened. "No! You can't!"

Garav locked eyes with his nephew. "You disobeyed me, you know the price. She will suffer for your mistakes."

Daryl lowered his head, understanding that he could not save his girlfriend from what his Uncle intended for her.


The Doctor was thrown into a cell and forced down onto a bed. He struggled for what it was worth but found it was impossible to escape the grasp of his captors. He found his arm sleeve being rolled up his arm and he hissed in pain as they inserted a needle into his vein. His followed the line attached to the needle and saw a bag bubbling away to the side, attached to the wall.

"What...are...you...doing?" he slurred.

"Putting you to sleep, Mr Smith," was the reply.

"Why?" he asked, his eye lids feeling heavy.

"You need to heal before our boss has any use for you," said the other gang member holding him down.

The Doctor's eyes closed as his body submitted to the drug that was circulating around his body. Despite the fact he was being put to sleep to heal, the drug used did not stop him from dreaming terrible images. The one that was most recurring was him witnessing the death of Rose and his children...


It had been two weeks since the ferry raid and six weeks since the Doctor's initial kidnap and there had been no sign of the Doctor or of the gang members. They had vanished from the face of the Earth. Rose was depressed and spent the majority of her time at Torchwood. Her belly was slightly rounded and she was beginning to show, but as she was expecting twins she had known that she would show quicker.

She felt a pat on her shoulder and she looked up to find Pete looking down at her. "How are you?"

"I'm doin' alright," commented Rose, as she turned back to the paperwork in front of her.

"You should be at home, resting," said Pete.

"I know that, but I can't sit around and wait for something to happen. I've got to work. It'll keep my mind off what is happening." She looked up at her father, her eyes swimming with tears. "I've gotta be strong for my children. I could bring them up without their father. But he is still out there, fightin', and I should be here helpin' you, not sittin' at home and waitin'. I'm more use here then I would be at home. I'd jus' get on mum's nerves all the time."

Pete nodded, realising that Rose was right. All they could do was carry on with their lives and hope that a sign would come to them as to where John was. He knew it was hard for Rose, but he admired her for keeping on going...

He would get John back, no matter what.


A/N: And back to the Queen of Fanfic, reddwarfaddict, we go...