A/N: So, just a quick reminder, the timeline for this story began in 2005. It is now currently, in Rose and Hartley's personal timelines, 2006. I'm trying to keep these details as close to reality as possible, so certain things (such as book mentioned at the beginning of this chapter) aren't known to Hartley and the other characters in their personal timelines yet. Just something to keep in mind – enjoy!
THE DIAMOND FACTORY
"It's not that diamonds are a girl's best friend,
but it's your best friends who are your diamonds.
It's your best friends who are supremely resilient,
made under pressure and of astonishing value.
They're everlasting; they can cut glass if they need to."
Gina Barreca
"Come on, can't you just make an exception?"
"No."
"I'm going to find out anyway, what does it matter if it's a few years too early?"
"Hartley, I'm not letting you read it. Be mature about the whole thing."
"Because getting the TARDIS to hide her copy is so mature."
"I'm preserving the integrity of the future-"
The pair's immature squabbling was brought to a sudden stop when the door to the fridge was pulled open, its creak echoing throughout the room. They turned to look, surprised to see Rose bent over inside the fridge, rooting around for the milk. They'd been so wrapped up in their argument that they hadn't even heard her come in.
"What're you two bickering about now?" she asked through a sleepy yawn, one hand scrubbing at her tired eyes.
"The Doctor won't let me read the last Harry Potter book," Hartley complained, very aware that she sounded like a petulant child complaining to her mother, but also wholly unwilling to care.
"You can read it when you've caught up with the release date," he argued back stubbornly.
"What does that even mean? I live on the TARDIS – and we don't exactly keep track of linear time."
"Doctor, just let her read the book," Rose said in the tone of an utterly overworked parent. "What's the harm?"
"What's the-?" the Doctor balked, hackles rising in defence. "I can't just let you two go rummaging about in the works of the future. Who knows what could happen? I have a code, I have a responsibility-"
"Since when has that stopped you?" Hartley mumbled, and the look the Doctor sent her in response was anything but impressed. She shot him back a sugary sweet smile that made him huff, and from across the room Rose rolled her eyes once more.
"So, where to today, Doctor?" she asked, voice light in an attempt to defuse the tension.
It seemed to work, and the Doctor's expression cleared, replaced by his usual excitement and zest for life. "It's a surprise," he said, a wicked glint to his eyes.
"Come on, you know I don't like surprises," Rose complained, but it was weak at best, and the Doctor only grinned.
"You'll like this one," he promised, but Rose didn't look convinced. "Go get changed out of your jammies," he ordered them both. Hartley did as she was told, standing to her feet and gulping down the last of her tea. "Wear something warm. Where we're going, there's going to be snow."
"Snow?" Hartley echoed eagerly. It felt like it had been yonks since she'd last seen snow. In fact, the last time she could remember was during the winters in her time on Earth with Jack. They would bundle up after a big blizzard and go down to the park, spending hours making snowmen and throwing snowballs at one another without a care for the era's uppity sense of propriety. It had been, in a word, beautiful.
In the here and now, the Doctor gave a secretive smile. "You'll see when we get there," he said, nodding for them to go.
The girls met at the door and wound their way through the TARDIS' intricate network of corridors, splitting off after a moment to go to their separate rooms. Hartley showered quickly, then dressed in some thermal pants and a thick sweater and jacket, shoving her feet into some boots and running a brush through her hair before hurrying back out to the control room.
The Doctor was alone, staring at the monitor in deep concentration, his glasses slipped low on his nose. Hartley was struck with the strangest sense of 'home' in that moment. Seeing the Doctor there, in his natural environment, it struck a chord within her.
She remembered a time when she hadn't thought she'd ever get back here again, a time when she'd thought for sure that she'd never again stand in the TARDIS' console room, watching the Doctor go about his day. Granted, back then, she'd longed for a Doctor who was all buzzed hair and big ears, but the point still stood.
She was only standing in the doorway staring at the Doctor (this one all spiky hair and tight suits and a mischief that was a brilliant as it was unfamiliar) silently for maybe a minute, but then Rose brushed past her with a casual, "all right, Hart?"
Shaking her head to clear it, Hartley gripped the cuffs of her jumper and gave a smile. "Bit distracted today, I s'pose," she said with a shrug, and Rose smiled, idly toying with the zipper of her winter coat.
The Doctor bounced upright once they were both in sight, a bright smile on his handsome face. "You two ready?" he asked them eagerly.
"Come on, Doc," Hartley prompted him. "Where've you taken us this time?"
He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his long, Janis Joplin coat, while at the same time bounding down the ramp towards the doors with all the grace of a newborn puppy.
"There's a solar system – roughly thirty-nine thousand lightyears away from yours – that gets colonised by humans in the 63rd century," he began to explain, adjusting his collar and stopping at the doors, turning back to peer at them excitement. "The main planet, Jukkilu, has two moons. The first one, named South, is mostly barren. There're some small colonies there, mostly farmers and hermits. The other one, however, predictably named North, is one of the most famous moons in this quadrant of the galaxy," he babbled, still not opening the doors, saving it for the big reveal.
"Okay, I'll bite," Hartley said, sharing an amused smile with Rose. "Why?"
"Because it holds the universe's first – and only – diamond factory!" he crowed, yanking open the door with a theatrical flourish.
A sudden blast of freezing cold air slammed into the three of them, and Hartley shut her eyes against the sting of the icy wind. "Diamond factory?" Rose asked once she'd recovered from the assault, stepping out onto the moon called North. "How can there be a diamond factory?"
"Yeah, don't diamonds take billions of years to form?" Hartley added, stepping out after them, letting the TARDIS doors shut behind her with a creak. They were on a hill, and the moment her feet touched the ground they sank several inches into the fluffy white snow covering the moon's surface.
The hill overlooked a massive, looming building. Hartley assumed this was the factory, but it looked nothing like one. It was all sleek and modern, made from thickened glass and shiny metal panelling. The only thing keeping it from looking utterly harmless was the tall fencing surrounding it, the wound wire reminding Hartley starkly of a prison.
"They do," the Doctor answered Hartley's question, tucking his hands into his pockets and beginning to waddle his way through the snow, down the steep hill that led towards the looming factory. "But in this century, they've found a way to speed up the process by the power of, well, a couple hundred million or so," he explained as they walked. "They can make diamonds here in under a day."
"But then they're not real diamonds," argued Rose from his other side, hands held out for balance as she carefully shuffled down the incline. "They're just manufactured."
"Ah, but see, they're not," the Doctor said brightly. "That's the brilliance of it – they are real diamonds. Not a fake atom in them."
"I don't understand," said Hartley, teeth chattering from the cold, the boots she'd unwisely chosen doing very little to keep the chill from her toes. "How could they be real?"
"You cook something in the oven, it takes longer than it would in a microwave, right?" the Doctor said, and already she was beginning to get it. He was good at that – putting it in terms she could understand. "That's all they've done; found a way to cook up a diamond in a microwave."
But she still wanted to know more. "How?"
The Doctor grinned. "You'll learn all about it," he promised her as they approached a gap in the fencing, "we're about to get an all-access tour to its inner workings."
"How d'you figure?" Rose shivered against the biting temperature.
The Doctor only held up the psychic paper, which flapped a bit in the breeze, and Rose understood immediately. The guards at the entrance were holding large, threatening guns, and Hartley cringed at the sight of them.
"Can we help you?" asked the woman who Hartley assumed to be in charge. She held the biggest weapon of them all, and her hat was a different colour to the others'.
"Yes, hello," the Doctor greeted her brightly, like they were old friends. "I'm the Doctor, this is Rose and Hartley," he said, gesturing to each girl in turn. The lead guard didn't so much as blink in reply, but the Doctor's grin never wavered. "I think you'll find it all here," he continued, holding up the psychic paper for her to see.
Suspicious, the woman let go of her grip on her gun to take it from him, assessing it with critical eyes. "Investors?" she read off the paper, seeing whatever it was she needed to see. She glanced back up at them cautiously, not sure she believed them. "We weren't told of any investors coming in today."
"Yes, well," the Doctor replied, taking back the paper and slipping it into his pocket, "bit of a last minute decision. Head of operations gave us an open invitation, said we can come along any time to take a look at the inner workings and the merchandise," he lied with an ease that came from centuries of experience.
The woman's eyes narrowed again. "You know Mr. Cline?" she asked sharply.
The Doctor nodded emphatically, so Hartley and Rose hurried to copy him. The woman's hands returned to her gun, gripping it tightly. Taking the initiative, Hartley stepped forwards. "Would you mind letting us through? It's awfully cold out here," she said with her sweetest, most innocent smile.
The woman grimaced, thinking for a moment before she lifting her fingers to her ear and pressing. "Mara, are you getting this?" she asked sharply into what Hartley could only assume was a comm unit. There was a pause, then the woman barked at them to, "hold your credentials back up to the camera."
Hurrying to obey, the Doctor held the psychic paper up to a small camera that was hooked over the edge of the fence. Everything was silent, and then the woman with the gun frowned.
"We'd really like to take a look at the merchandise," said the Doctor, smooth and simple. "I think it's important for you to note we have very deep pockets," he added cheekily, and Hartley had to grin at the double meaning behind his words. If only she knew.
He glanced over at his companions pointedly. "Right, yes," Rose agreed with a sharp bob of her head. "We're veryrich."
"Very rich," Hartley added emphatically.
Another pause, then the woman nodded to someone they couldn't see. "Alright, head through, Doctor," she said, a lot more polite than she had been before. She stepped aside, waving them through the tall gates towards the sleek, clean factory looming overhead.
A man wearing what looked like a bellhop's uniform opened the doors for them, and the moment they stepped inside the building they were enveloped by a warmth that had them all sighing with contentment.
"Welcome! You must be Ms. Daniels, Ms. Tyler and Mr. Doctor," said the man with a large smile that was just too perfect to be anything but fake.
"Boy, word travels fast," puffed Rose, dusting the snow from her arms.
"Just – it's just the Doctor," their Time Lord companion corrected the bellhop with a small grimace, and the girls exchanged a hidden smirk of shared amusement.
"Right, of course," the man said, stumbling just a little over the strange monicker, "Doctor."
"And who might you be?" asked the Doctor brightly, reaching out with a beaming grin to take the younger man's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.
"Uh, Atkins, sir," said the bellhop in surprise. Having somebody ask his name probably wasn't something that happened very often in his line of work.
"Atkins," crowed the Doctor like it were his favourite name in the universe, and he was grateful for a chance to use it in conversation. "Lovely name. Like the hat," he said, finally letting go of his hand to tap playfully at the small, red cap that sat atop Atkins' mop of inky black curls.
Atkins didn't seem to know how to respond, staring at the Doctor in sheer bemusement. Hartley figured that the type of people who visited this establishment never behaved anything like the Doctor usually did. She had a feeling they were in for something of a wild ride.
Pulling himself together, Atkins smiled. The expression was a little less perfunctory and a little more perplexed, Hartley noted with amusement. She watched as he turned and swept a hand in the direction of the door at the far end of the room.
"If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you through to Mr. Cline," he said politely.
"Nah, none of that," said the Doctor brashly, waving his hand as if to swat away the suggestion. "We want the grand tour – and something tells me you're just the guy we should be looking to."
Atkins blinked in surprise. "Me?" he asked weakly. Clearly they weren't following the carefully put together script that his typical clientele stuck by.
"Yeah," the Doctor dragged out the word, making it sound like more syllables than it really was. He reached out, clapping Atkins on the shoulder like they were the best of friends. "Come on, show us around!" he said encouragingly.
Atkins looked torn. This wasn't in his job description.
"We just want see the process; learn everything there is to learn before we talk to anyone about investing," Hartley supplied, sensing the Doctor's goading wasn't quite doing the trick. She pasted on her sweetest smile, and the poor bellboy – who couldn't possibly have been any older than nineteen – blushed a bright pink.
"Of course," he said once he'd recovered, clearing his throat and looking away. "Well, if you'll follow me, we can begin in the minting room."
There really wasn't a lot to the factory that they were shown. Atkins led them through the areas accessible to the public – all of which were nothing but pretty, pointless tidbits to show the tourists.
"The actual diamonds themselves, of course, are made down in our underground facilities where the heat and pressure of the process can't do us any harm," Atkins explained patiently.
"So, what, you've got some sort of volcano down there?" asked Rose.
"I can't go into detail about our process, but rest assured, there are tonnes upon tonnes of metal and concrete, keeping us all safe from the rather violent methods used to create these priceless little stones," said Atkins, like some kind of television advert.
Mostly it was all just little gift shops filled with the kinds of jewellery that would cost more than Hartley was ever likely to be able to afford, and a few meeting rooms and restaurants where the diners could overlook the snowy gardens as they enjoyed their meals and waited for their customised pieces to be completed.
Hartley was a little disappointed that they couldn't see more, and she didn't expect the Doctor to settle for it, either. Atkins led them through to the main room, where jewellers and salespeople sat at desks, the whole set up looking a lot like a typical, everyday bank back on Earth.
"Now, I can leave you in one of our associates' very capable hands to overlook our collection––" Atkins began to say, still just a little bit awkward as he gestured with a white-gloved hand towards the rows of desks, most occupied while just a few were left empty and unattended.
The Doctor opened his mouth and Hartley was certain he was going to make an excuse that would allow them to slip away and explore their off-limits areas to their hearts' content. Only, the words never had a chance to leave his mouth.
There was a bang, one so loud that Hartley's ears rang with it, and then the shattering of glass that made everyone scream, followed by a loud yell in a gruff voice that made Hartley's blood run cold.
"Everybody stay still, put your hands on your head, and shut up!" the voice bellowed, the sound of it echoing throughout the large, cavernous room. Hartley whirled around to stare at the newcomers, realising with a start that the bang had been a gunshot and the shattering of glass the broken skylight in the ceiling above them.
There were three of them, all wearing black with their faces hidden by intricate masks. In their hands were large, automatic weapons. Hartley felt a wave of panic come over her, but swallowed the feeling down. There was no time for her to freak out. She had to stay focused and alert if she wanted to help get them all out of this alive.
"Just what do you think you're doing?!" demanded a short man with round glasses and a pink suit, storming up to the trio like a stern parent who'd caught his child doing something they'd been told not to.
The intruder didn't even hesitate as he slammed the butt of his weapon into the man's face, breaking his glasses and sending him to the shiny marble floor with a cry of pain and a splash of scarlet blood. Hartley gasped, already beginning to move to his side.
Before she could get anywhere a hand caught on her arm, gripping tightly and keeping her from moving. She glanced back at the Doctor, who met her eyes and calmly shook his head. Glancing back at the injured man, Hartley was relieved to see him conscious and alert.
"This is a hold-up!" shouted the masked man in the centre, the tallest of the three, voice raised over the nervous titters of the crowd. "As long as everyone keeps their mouths shut and does exactly as we say, nobody's gonna get hurt. Am I clear?!"
The room went still and silent. Nobody dared answer.
"Am I clear?!" he roared, and there were some scattered yelps of assent that he took to be good enough. "Everybody over there!" he ordered them sharply. Again, nobody moved a muscle, but instead of yelling he simply cocked his gun with a chilling crack, and as one everybody scurried to the end of the room he'd pointed to.
Hartley wasn't sure what to do and so turned to look at Rose and the Doctor. Rose's eyes were wide with shock, while the Doctor's were narrowed with anger. "What do we do?" Hartley asked him in a quiet whisper.
Hartley could tell the Doctor was assessing his options, eyes dark and stormy, flickering from one end of the room to the other like he were taking note of all the exits in sight.
"What he says," he finally murmured, each of his hands gripping one of theirs as he gently herded them towards the other hostages.
Hartley realised with a roll of unwelcome nausea that that was what they were now: hostages.
"Come on," the Doctor said, utterly calm as he guided them over to the far wall, where the others filling the room had all congregated as ordered.
"Doctor," whispered Rose, eyeing the three men with the guns nervously.
"It's okay," he assured her, urging her more firmly into the group, like if he got her to the back of the crowd she might be safer.
His other hand gripped Hartley's, dragging her after them. She spied Atkins pressed against the wall, eyes wide and teary, and she pressed her lips together, trying to keep her emotion from spilling out of her in any way. The last thing they needed was for her to get so riled up that she did something utterly stupid.
"Everyone on the ground!" barked another one of the robbers (because what else could Hartley call them?). This one was the shortest, however strongly built and stocky. Quickly the group of hostages all lowered themselves to the floor, and the room went silent. Hartley was sure she would have been able to hear a pin drop.
The robbers all met across the room, guns trained on the group on the floor. It was a silent but present threat, reminding everybody not to try and be a hero. Then again, the Doctor never had been very good at doing as he was told.
"What about the guards outside? And for all its security, this place must have some kind of alarm system or something?" whispered Rose, squinting at the trio of criminals warily. "So how'd these guys get in?"
"I don't know," the Doctor whispered back. "We didn't hear any other shots fired, so the guards outside are either already dead … or somehow they have no idea these men are here."
"How is that possible?" Hartley asked, quiet and confused. "You saw this place from the outside; it's built like a prison. There's no way they just waltzed in, especially not with guns that big."
"I don't know," he whispered back, eyes flickering between the three intruders. Hartley could practically hear the cogs turning away in his mind, searching for an answer, for a solution that made sense. "Maybe they teleported in," he finally said, but that was a big 'maybe'.
"But they're just standing there," hissed Rose, staring at the three of them critically.
And she was right. All three armed robbers were hovering around a desk, muttering to one another angrily, almost like they were having some kind of argument. "They don't appear to have much of a plan," Hartley agreed. She knew enough from watching procedural dramas during her university days to know that criminals without plans were by far the most dangerous of them all.
"What kind of people break into a place like this without a plan?" whispered Rose, a hint of suspicion on her face.
"Desperate ones," Hartley answered her, the words almost an instinct. Rose shifted her head to frown at her, and the Doctor's brow was furrowed in thought.
"So?" asked Rose after a solid minute of silence, the only sounds filling the cavernous room the hostages' terrified sniffles and the robbers' hissed argument from across the room. One of them, the shortest, had his gun still aimed at the group of innocent humans, so nobody would dare put a toe out of line. "What're we going to do?" she whispered, eyes flickering between Hartley, the Doctor, and the trio of criminals.
The Doctor sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. "I dunno," he told her honestly, looking uncharacteristically lost.
"Well, they said that if we do as we're told, nobody's going to get hurt," Hartley supplied, a weak note of hope clinging to her voice.
"So we sit back and do nothing while they rob the place?" Rose hissed, eyes narrowed. "We can't stand by and do nothing."
"Well, we're not exactly swimming in options, Rose," she whispered back, glancing behind her to where one of the hostages, an older man in a suit, was clutching a cross around his neck, eyes shut tight as he whispered a prayer to the heavens.
"Shh," the Doctor hushed them abruptly, and they fell obediently silent. "Look," he said softly, staring upwards with laser-like focus. Confused, Hartley and Rose slowly followed his line of sight until they reached the ceiling.
The window that one of the men had shot out had left a large hole in the ceiling, but something about it wasn't right. It took them a moment to figure out what. "The snow isn't falling through," Hartley breathed. It was hard to see with the backdrop of white clouds, but the little flakes of snow were frozen in midair, as though somebody had hit pause on nature itself.
"I think we're in a time dilation field," the Doctor whispered, eyes alight with the thrill of the problem set out before them.
"Time dilation field?" Rose echoed in confusion.
"Like a bubble, an area within which the time moves either faster or slower than in the space surrounding it," the Doctor explained in a hurry. "Clearly they've rigged it to encompass the building, so everything within moves faster than the outside."
"That's why the snow looks frozen," Hartley realised with a nod. "Because from our point of view, it's moving so slow it's not even moving at all."
"Exactly," the Doctor murmured, staring at the gaping hole in the ceiling, eyeing the frozen snowflakes with a frown.
"But why?" Rose asked. "What's the point?"
"Well, for one thing, no radio waves or signals can get out of the field. Nobody in here can trip an alarm, or call for help."
"And the guards outside are probably frozen too," Hartley surmised with a nod, beginning to see the situation for what it was.
"The whole universe is," the Doctor said, "relatively speaking." His big eyes scanned the room, brilliant mind already whirring away behind them, searching for a solution, one that got everybody out of this alive and unharmed.
Finally the trio of robbers spun around, having apparently come to some sort of decision. They strode towards the group of terrified hostages, the large guns in their hands getting scarier the closer they got.
"Which one of you is the manager?" asked the tall one, the one Hartley gleaned was in charge. There was a tense silence, nobody answering. From behind his black mask, his eyes glittered with dangerous frustration. "I asked a question!" he snarled, taking a threatening step forwards, and a woman behind Hartley gave a small yelp of terror.
"He's not here!" squeaked one of the hostages, and everyone glanced over to look at the man, small and meek looking with large front teeth, seeming to tremble where he sat. "He's away on business," he continued, tears in his eyes. He was quite clearly terrified, but being as brave as he could under the circumstances.
The tall robber's eyes hardened. "Then who's next in charge?" he snapped, voice like a razor's edge, sharp and deadly.
The same terrified little man sniffled and reluctantly admitted, "that would be me."
One of the other robbers, the one that was mid-height, reached down and grasped the trembling man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him roughly to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the back of the room.
"Great," said the tallest one, dark and anything but cheerful. "Then you can open the vault."
The man in the suit gave a terrified little squeak, eyes watering heavily, stumbling when they shoved him again in the direction of the far wall.
Hartley followed their line of sight, but she saw nothing but a long stretch of wall, no vault in sight. "But there's nothing there," Rose whispered, saying exactly what Hartley was thinking.
"Look again," the Doctor whispered back. "There's a perception filter on it, but it's there."
Hartley narrowed her eyes, concentrating on the bare stretch of wall. A small ache began to build behind her eyes, but she pressed on and blinked. Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of the vault. It looked like one at a bank, large and and made of shining, glistening silver.
The small, sniffling man turned around, eyes wide with horror. "But – but I can't," he stammered around his little sobs. "I don't know the combination," he told them shakily.
The trio of robbers were deathly silent for one haunting moment, before the tall one lifted his gun so the barrel was aimed directly between the trembling man's eyes. "You're lying," he said, voice like the snow frozen above them, icy and cold.
"No – I'm not, I swear!" cried the man in the suit, lower lip wobbling in terror. "Only the manager knows the combination. Nobody else is allowed!" The robber stepped closer so that the barrel of his gun was now pressed against the man's forehead. Hartley's heart was in her throat. "I'm telling the truth. I swear to you, I'm telling the truth."
"Doctor," Hartley hissed at her Time Lord companion, pulse thudding in her ears. "You have to do something."
He'd been lost in thought, lost in a wave of timelines and planning, but at her words he snapped to attention, springing to his feet like a jack-in-the-box, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hi. Hello. I'm the Doctor," he said brightly, and the tallest of the three criminals turned away from the crying worker, one of the others grabbing him by the scruff and holding tight.
"You'll sit back down if you know what's good for you, Doctor," the tall one spat his name with condescension.
"Let's say, for argument's sake, that I don't know what's good for me," drawled the Doctor easily. "What're you gonna do?" he asked, not goading but rather utterly innocent. The tall one didn't seem to know what to say, not having expected to be challenged so blatantly. He faltered, staring back, gun aimed in their general direction, but it was more of an afterthought than anything else. "Leave the man alone," the Doctor ordered the gunmen, leaving no room for argument. It was a command, a warning, one they'd be stupid not to listen to.
"And just who the hell are you?" hissed the tall one sharply.
"I told you," he replied simply. "I'm the Doctor."
"Doctor of what?" snapped the gunman.
"Everything," he replied like it were an instinct, and immediately Hartley knew it was the wrong thing to say.
The tall one lifted his weapon so it was aimed directly between the Doctor's twin hearts. "Sit back down and shut up before I put a bullet in your chest," he threatened darkly, but there was something to his voice that made Hartley doubt it, a hesitation, or maybe a reluctance, one she didn't fully understand.
The Doctor merely rocked back on his heels, utterly unperturbed. He cast his eyes back up to the ceiling, to the still snowflakes that were the blatant proof of the time dilation field they were all stuck in. "Time dilation field," he said simply, and the grip the gunman had on his weapon tightened. "That's pretty advanced stuff. You can create a time dilation field but you can't get yourself into a vault?" he asked, and Hartley recognised with a frustrated huff that now he was goading them. He was having fun.
"How do you know––?" the lead robber tried to ask, but the Doctor spoke over him.
"Oh, I'm very clever," he said easily, a pride to his voice that made Hartley roll her eyes again.
She saw the idea light up in the man's dark eyes. "Clever enough to get that vault open?" he asked slyly.
The Doctor didn't react, merely rocking on his heels again, considering. "Let the man go," he finally spoke, voice full of a casual nonchalance that surprised them all. Nobody but Hartley and Rose could understand his demeanour. Nobody else knew that, despite appearances, he had everything under control.
"Or what?" asked the head gunman, like a child testing their limits.
"Or I won't help you," he replied, plain and simple.
The tall man was scowling under his mask, Hartley could tell by the crinkle to his eyes. He jerked his head at one of his associates, and the one holding the innocent man let him go, shoving him none-too-gently in the direction of the rest of the hostages.
The man stumbled, but the Doctor caught him, steadying him as he trembled and gently lowering him to the ground. Hartley expected the robbers to go for the Doctor next, but instead the one in charge simply snarled, "don't move," and turned away, stalking back to the others to converge in yet another whispered discussion.
"Are you okay?" Hartley whispered to the terrified man, who by now was trembling so violently that she could hear his teeth clacking together.
"They can't get inside the vault," the man hissed, gripping the Doctor's lapels, staring up at him with wide, teary eyes.
"What's your name?" the Doctor asked patiently.
"Patrick," he replied without blinking, then leaning in and repeating fervently, "they mustn't get into the vault."
"Patrick, with all due respect, it's just a few diamonds," the Doctor whispered back, steady hands pressed to his quaking shoulders. "They're not worth your life."
"You don't understand," the man, now known as Patrick, hissed back, eyes wild with desperation. "Diamonds aren't the only thing in that vault."
The Doctor's expression turned serious. "What else is there?" he asked, severe.
Patrick just about choked on his own tongue. "A weapon," he whispered almost silently, like it were the biggest secret in the history of mankind. Like if he got caught saying it aloud, somebody would materialise and kill him on the spot.
The Doctor's eyes darkened. "A weapon?" he repeated lowly. "What kind of weapon?"
"Alright, Doctor," the tallest gunman spat the name derisively, and Hartley knew they were out of time. She pushed herself up, gently grabbing Patrick's shaking hands and pulling him carefully down to the floor. He sat down with a groan, then dropped his head into his hands like all hope was lost. "You said you'd help, so help," he continued sharply, jerking his gun in the Time Lord's direction.
"I'm going to need more information, first," said the Doctor easily.
"This isn't a negotiation," snapped the gunman.
"Isn't it?" he replied smoothly. The Doctor didn't move from where he was standing, hands tucked into his pockets, probably in an effort to look as innocent and as unthreatening as possible. "What's inside that vault that you want so much?" he asked casually, like they were discussing it over coffee.
"None of your business, that's what!" snapped one of the other men, the shortest one, an edge of unmistakeable fear in his voice.
"Shut up, Stefan," hissed the medium-sized one.
"Ooh," sang the Doctor, rocking on his heels once again. "Touchy."
"It's a diamond factory," muttered the leader in a deadpan, gun still aimed smack-bang in the centre of the Doctor's chest. "What do you think we're after?"
"Well, I mean, the whole thing wasn't very well thought out, was it?" he replied. Even behind their masks, the robbers looked perplexed. "I mean, yes, you've got the time dilation field, but beyond that... No plan? You didn't even know the manager wasn't here. And now you're relying on a hostage to open the vault for you?"
"You looking to get shot?" snarled the one of medium height. The sound of his gun cocking echoed throughout the room, just as scary as any real bullet might have been. All the hostages flinched.
"By all means," drawled the Doctor, seemingly without a care. Rose tensed from beside Hartley, but even still, they knew a bluff when they saw one. "But I'm your only chance of getting that vault open, and you know it. So killing me wouldn't be a very clever thing to do now, would it?"
The criminals all exchanged long stares, their guns aimed carelessly at their group of hostages, though none of them seemed about to pull the trigger.
"Okay," the tall one finally said, stepping closer and moving the end of his gun downwards until the barrel was aimed between Rose's eyes. "So we can't kill you, but we can kill your little girlfriend," he sneered as though with this move alone, he'd won.
In a sudden move that surprised all of them, the Doctor swept to the left instead of the right. This wasn't particularly life-changing, however was strange for the fact that Hartley was the one the Doctor rushed to protect, rather than Rose. Confusion sprung into the robber's eyes before he changed targets, aiming at Hartley instead, taking the Doctor's bait as well as any fish.
"Don't hurt her," the Doctor begged the head of the trio of criminals, placed in front of Hartley as though to shield her from harm.
Hartley glanced over at Rose, who looked just as stunned by the unexpected action. Since when was Hartley the one the Doctor was rushing to protect? They all knew she could take care of herself, after all. Or that, if she couldn't, at the very least she couldn't be killed.
"Jackson," sneered the leader. "Get the redhead."
The robber of medium height strode forwards, shoving the Doctor out of the way and grabbing Hartley roughly, yanking her to her feet and away from her friends. "Ouch," she cried at his iron-like grip around her arms, sure to leave bruises, "watch it!"
But her complaints went completely ignored.
The one called Jackson dropped his hold on his weapon. It hung lifeless over his shoulder by its strap, but then he produced a second gun, this one a smaller pistol, and held the barrel to Hartley's temple. His other arm was wrapped around her body, holding her to him tightly, giving no chance for escape.
"There," said the leader, whose name was still unknown, a gleam of smugness to his dark, just-visible eyes. "We have your woman."
"Well," puffed the Doctor, "guess you've got me tied then. Either I help you break into this vault, or you kill my companion."
"Exactly," sneered the leader victoriously, like he were the smartest man in all the lands. Hartley didn't understand these people, didn't understand their motivations or the reasons for their actions. They didn't exactly seem like your typical criminal masterminds.
"Well," the Doctor said again, "we'd better get on with it."
He turned, heading over towards the vault on the far side of the room, ignoring Patrick's dull cry of dissent from behind him. Hartley desperately hoped the Doctor had a plan – one that didn't end with her getting her brains blown out all over these spotless walls. This place looked too expensive to sneeze in, let alone die in.
Hartley knew the Doctor would likely be able to open the vault with the help of his sonic screwdriver – providing it wasn't a deadlock seal, she supposed – but he made no move to retrieve it. Instead he wandered over to a panel on the wall and began to toy with it, but Hartley could tell it was just a ploy to buy them more time.
"So, why d'you want the diamonds, anyhow?" he asked their captors blithely as he ripped out a small bundle of blue wires and began to randomly attach them to others wires in a pattern that Hartley would have bet on having no real purpose.
"Why does anyone want diamonds?" sneered the one named Stefan, looking at the Doctor like he were an idiot.
"Well, as I said before," the Doctor replied, utterly at ease despite the barrel of the gun still held to Hartley's temple. The metal was cold and hard against her skin, and her heart was racing within her chest, but on the outside she remained cool. "You're far more disorganised than the usual bank robbers. Beyond the time dilation field and the big guns, you don't really have anything else going for you, do you?"
"Shut up," snapped the leader, gun aimed at the alien in not-so-subtle threat. "Stop talking and just open the damned vault."
"But it just doesn't make sense," the Doctor continued, utterly heedless of the danger he was in – the danger she was in – as per usual. "Surely there are easier ways to get your hands on some money. Why this factory? Why now?"
"None of your business," barked Stefan, but there was an unmistakable tremor of nerves to his voice. He was trying hard to hide it, but these sort of things rarely got past Hartley.
"Unless there's something in there you need – something you can't get anywhere else," the Doctor carried on, unbothered by the threat they were under. He gave up all pretences of pretending to access the vault, turning around to face Stefan, one eyebrow cocked in question. "What is it, eh?" he asked, voice like liquid steel, strong and unyielding, yet also somehow pliable at the same time.
"Shut him up!" snapped the leader, whose name they still didn't know, and Stefan let his arm fly, knocking the Doctor clear across the face with the butt of his gun. The Doctor's head snapped to the side and Rose let out a sharp cry from behind them all, but thankfully nobody paid her any mind.
The Doctor stayed where he was for a moment, and then turned his face back towards them. Already a bruise was forming on his jaw, but Hartley knew from experience that it wouldn't stay there for long. They were alike, in that way. "Is someone making you do this?" he pressed on stubbornly, and Hartley wanted to groan aloud at his sheer, brave stupidity. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"I said shut up!" roared the leader, losing his cool like a soap bubble being popped. Spittle flew from his lips, and he reached out, wrenching Hartley out of Jackson's grip, one hand locked tightly around her throat, cutting off her air supply. And if that wasn't enough, he pressed his own gun to her head, another of his endless threats. "You have to the count of five to open that vault, or I'm going to blow her pretty little brains out," he told the Doctor darkly, no word of a lie.
"Why do you want to get into the vault?" the Doctor asked, rather than react in any way to the threat. That was when Hartley really began to get nervous.
"Five," said the leader, his gun pressed to her temple. The fingers around her throat tightened needlessly, and she automatically reached up to try and prise them off.
"I know it's not about the money, not about the diamonds, so what is it?" the Doctor pressed.
"Four," sneered the psychotic leader. His grip tightened to the point where it was getting hard to breathe. Hartley's face began to tingle, skin going a blotchy red.
"I can't let you into that vault. But whatever's inside, it's not worth this. It just isn't," the Doctor tried to reason with him. But Hartley could tell they were well beyond reason. They might have even been beyond saving.
"Three," her captor said, and the sound of his voice rattled through her body as loudly as a bullet itself. She shuddered, panic building within her.
"Doctor!" Rose hissed desperately from somewhere to her right, genuine fear in her voice.
"You don't need to do this!" the Doctor begged him, slowly growing desperate. He'd lost control of the situation – it wasn't something that happened often, and that it was happening now scared Hartley more than the imminent death she was about to experience. "Talk to me, let me help you. We can find a way to fix this. You won't get into trouble!"
"Two," the man holding her said, pressing the barrel harder against Hartley's temple. Beginning to grow lightheaded, she absentmindedly thought that the pressure was going to leave a mark on her skin.
She met the Doctor's eyes across from her. They were wide and full of desperation. She was going to die, and yes, she would wake up, but the fact of the matter was she was still going to die. She took a deep breath, as much as she could around the fingers clasped around her throat like a vice, savouring the ability to breathe, to see, to think.
The Doctor's eyes were saying something, something he couldn't say out loud, but he was saying it all the same.
I'm sorry.
She wanted to forgive him, wanted to tell him it was all right – but this could have been avoidable. It needn't have come to this. He'd put her in this position, and now instead of opening that bloody vault, he was letting her die, just on the off chance that whatever was in that vault was worth her life.
In her last moments, forgiveness wasn't something she thought about, nor was contempt. She simply thought about the cruelty and unfairness of the cold, callous universe, and how if it had been Rose in her place, that vault door would have been opened long ago.
"One––"
"Wait!"
The man with the gun pressed to her temple froze, and no boundless darkness came. It took her brain a moment to catch up – she'd been so sure she was going to die, so sure the Doctor would willingly let her perish. But instead he'd stopped them, and when her eyes locked onto his form she found him holding out the sonic screwdriver, remorse in his eyes; like he regretted letting it get this far.
"I'll open it," he continued, resignation splayed across his familiar face. Hartley exhaled shakily around the hand gripped her throat.
"Go on, then," snapped the one holding her captive – the one whose name she didn't even know. Across from them the robber called Stefan was grimacing, gun held in a shaky hand. He looked truly, properly scared, and Hartley wondered why that was.
The Doctor met her eyes again, and she stared back, a frown crinkling her brow. Expression giving nothing away, he turned to the vault, reluctantly holding the sonic screwdriver to the lock.
"No!" shouted the man from before – Patrick – eyes wild with panic. He stood to his feet, desperation on his face. "You can't!" he cried. "I won't let you!"
There was a bang, the sound jarring and sudden, making Hartley's ears ring painfully. For a brief moment she thought it might have only been a warning shot, and that nobody had been hurt. But then she had to watch with sharp horror as Patrick fell to the floor, a bloody wound appearing just to the right of where his heart would lay.
Rose gasped, moving from where she was and flying to Patrick's side. She pressed her hands to the wound, but Hartley knew there was little that could save him now – that is if he wasn't dead already.
The Doctor looked downright murderous. Hartley wasn't sure which of the three robbers had fired the shot, but she supposed it didn't really matter, in the end.
"You didn't have to do that!" the Doctor bellowed, fury coating his voice.
"Open the vault right now or this one dies!" the leader hissed back, cold barrel of his gun pressing once more to Hartley's temple.
The Doctor glared. "Fine," he said, the word thick with bitter abhorrence. There was the familiar buzz of the sonic, the metal of the vault glowing blue, and then the sound of sophisticated locks and mechanisms unlatching before the vault door opened with a low creak.
The leader's grip on her throat loosened slightly, his relief palpable. "Jackson, you stay out here, keep an eye on them," he said with a jerk of his head at the hostages. "Stefan, you're with me. Bring that one with you," he added, jerking his gun in the Doctor's direction.
The Stefan gripped the Doctor by the arm, gun pressed threateningly between his shoulder blades. The leader began to walk Hartley towards the vault, and she reluctantly went with him, glancing quickly over her shoulder to look at Rose where she sat over Patrick's still form.
There were tears in her eyes, her hands coated with thick, crimson blood. When their eyes met Rose shook her head grimly, and Hartley turned away, something close to hatred curdling in her gut.
"You go in first," the leader ordered his second-in-command, and Stefan nodded sharply, obediently leading the Doctor into the depths of the vault. The leader waited outside as Stefan and the Doctor shuffled inside, and Hartley got the feeling that he was using them as guinea pigs, checking for any booby traps that may be lying in wait.
Nothing happened, and he finally felt safe to walk through after them, all but shoving Hartley over the raised lip of the entrance.
Her jaw dropped open as they stepped inside the vault, very nearly blinded by what she found within.
Millions upon millions of diamonds filled the cavernous vault, dumped in great, haphazard piles like some naturally occurring phenomenon. The lights above them were warm, bouncing off the glittering mounds of perfect diamonds, bright and satisfying to the eye.
But neither Stefan nor the leader seemed interested in the diamonds, passing them by without so much as a glance. They each led their hostage through the vault, sidestepping the piles of jewels as if they were nothing but an inconvenience.
They finally came to one large, towering pile of diamonds, one wider than all the rest. The leader gave Hartley a rough shove. She nearly tripped to the floor, but she was just relieved to not have him touching her any more.
Turning back to his task, he jerked his gun in the direction of the pile. "Start clearing away the diamonds," he ordered her shortly.
Hartley was confused. "You mean, put them in a bag for you...?" she asked hesitantly.
"I mean clear them away," he snapped. She figured he knew what he wanted, and she wasn't about to question him further. She cast a careful glance over at the Doctor, who was still being held at gunpoint by the skinny, scowling Stefan. The Doctor slowly nodded his head, and Hartley took a deep breath before moving forwards and burying her hands in the mound of sparkling jewels.
The stones were cold to the touch, coming in all manner of shapes and sizes. Some were pointy and rough against her skin, others already perfectly cut into beautiful little teardrop shapes. Still unsure what she was doing, Hartley could only do her best to brush the diamonds out of the way like leaves from her parent's yard on an autumn day.
Everything became clear, however, when a few minutes into her task her hands suddenly brushed something hard and smooth.
"I found something," she said aloud, and there was the ominous cocking of a gun from at her back.
"Uncover it," snapped the leader in his rough, grating voice. "Now!"
Doing as she was told, Hartley kept on brushing at the priceless jewels like they were nothing but waste until finally she unearthed a decent-sized black box.
It came to about her knees in height, with a steampunk-looking sort of mechanism on the front in lieu of a traditional lock.
"Back away from it," the leader ordered her, and she could do nothing more than comply. She stepped back next to the Doctor who had so far remained silent, taking it all in with dark, intelligent eyes.
The leader shuffled forwards, leaning down over the mysterious box, face hidden from their view.
"Stefan," he snapped, and his second-in-command hurriedly joined him, seeming to forget all about guarding the Doctor.
"What's going on?" Hartley whispered to the Doctor, watching the pair of criminals carefully.
"I'm guessing that's the weapon Patrick told us about," he whispered back.
"So, what are we going to do?" she hissed, hoping to heaven that he actually had a plan.
Instead of answering, the Doctor stuck his hands deep into his pockets and began to saunter forwards with all the ease of a man in total control. Hartley wondered whether it were possible to bottle that kind of confidence. "So that's a weapon, eh?" he asked the robbers with a pressing curiosity. Stefan and the leader looked up from where they were struggling to open the box, scowls on their faces. "Looks to me like a neoclassical lock mechanism," he said easily, even as Stefan raised a gun to his face. He didn't so much as flinch. "You don't happen to have a key?"
With something of a victorious sneer the leader held up a large, dated, steampunk key.
"Ah," said the Doctor, a sort of reluctant wince on his face.
"Stefan," barked the leader, jerking his head towards the box. Stefan obediently moved, keeping his gun trained on their hostages even as he stepped closer to his cruel comrade. Hartley gingerly shuffled across the floor, brushing stray diamonds out of her way as she made her way over to the Doctor.
"What do we do?" she whispered once again, impatient to hear the plan. Thankfully the masked robbers were too busy struggling to open the complicated lock system to care.
"We can't let them have what's inside," he whispered back, eyes darting quickly down to the barrel of the gun that Stefan had aimed haphazardly in their direction. Hartley had a feeling he was easily spooked, and it wouldn't take much to have the gun going off – whether accidentally or on purpose.
"What about––?" she tried to ask, but the Doctor interrupted her with a shush. Blinking in surprise, she was offended until she realised the two gunmen across from them were talking.
"He said not to leave any witnesses," the leader was whispering, face turned away but the sound of his hushed voice carrying in the cavernous vault.
"I dunno, Fabian," Stefan was whispering, finally giving a name to the faceless leader. "They haven't seen our faces – and besides, there's so many of them. Why can't we just take it and go?"
"We have our orders," Fabian hissed back.
"From a man whose name we don't even know," Stefan snapped, gun in his hand beginning to tremble, making Hartley even more uneasy.
"It's for the cause."
"I know, but have we even stopped to consider what this might––?"
"You're part of this, Stefan," snarled Fabian, a furious edge to his voice. "We're in too far to back out now. I'll work on separating the elements of the weapon to get it ready for travel, you go out there and begin eliminating the hostages."
"It'll cause a panic."
"Then do it quickly."
"Ah, if I may?" exclaimed the Doctor suddenly, loud and obnoxious. Hartley whipped around to stare at him with something close to horror. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, and he sauntered forwards with his usually careless confidence. The two robbers turned to look at him, fury glinting in Fabian's eyes. "Whose orders are you working under, exactly?"
"None of your business," snapped Fabian, danger in his voice.
"Since their orders are to murder us all, I'd say it probably is my business, actually," the Doctor replied with near laughable ease, giving a casual sniff.
Fabian jerked his head at Stefan before turning his attention back to the device in the box.
"You're going to walk back outside, sit down and shut up," said Stefan in a voice that was probably meant to be intimidating, but really just sounded weak and scared.
"And if we don't?" asked Hartley, arms crossed over her chest, a challenge in her eyes.
"I shoot you right here and now," he snarled.
"So it's either die now or die in twenty minutes or so?" asked the Doctor.
"Is there an option C that we could consider?" added Hartley hopefully. Stefan looked dumbfounded by their casual demeanours. "Say, not dying at all, perhaps?"
Stefan hesitated, not knowing what to make of their words. Suddenly Fabian let out a loud cuss, the crassness of it making Hartley blink, even with her track record with swears in the past. "What?" asked Stefan with a gasp, attention sliding from them to Fabian, the barrel of his gun finally pointed away from their faces.
Fabian continued to cuss, panic saturating him.
"Fabian!" Stefan shouted, growing scared.
"I set something off – I dunno, some kind of fail-safe!" Fabian exclaimed, reaching up and gripping his hair as if trying to rip it from his scalp. "Crap – we're all gonna die!"
The Doctor interjected before he could get any more overwhelmed. "You need to let me look at it," he said, calm in comparison to the robber.
Once more, Stefan's gun was aimed in their faces. "What good will that do?" snapped Fabian, the terror never leaving his face. Hartley knew then that, whatever this weapon did, it wasn't going to be pretty. And she would undoubtedly be the only survivor.
"I'm an engineer," said the Doctor.
"You said you were a doctor!" exclaimed Stefan shrilly.
The Doctor stared back at him as if wondering how one person could be so thick. "You can be a doctor of engineering," he said slowly.
Stefan blinked. "Can you?"
No time to let them talk any more about the various STEM fields, Fabian gripped the Doctor's coat and a thick sheen of nervous sweat clinging to his face. "Fix it!" he shouted at the Time Lord, shoving him in the direction of the crate, which was slowly beginning to emit an alarming shrieking noise.
"All right, all right," muttered the Doctor, brushing off his coat and kneeling down by the device. Hartley waited for him to say something, but to her horror he only went silent, staring down into the steampunk looking box with a grave sort of dread. "Oh," he finally said, voice full of an uncharacteristic trepidation.
"Oh?" echoed Hartley anxiously, voice an unnaturally high pitch. "What's oh?"
"Hartley, come here a moment?" he murmured, and neither Stefan nor Fabian put up a fight as she moved towards him, crouching down beside him.
Inside the box was a sort of metal tube with two spheres on either end. "What is it?" Hartley asked, heart racing in her chest.
"This is a naquadah reactor," he told her solemnly. "He tried to disassemble it – but he made a mistake. Disrupted the feedback loop, caused a blockage."
"So?"
"So it's going into overload," he said, voice hard.
"Well, can't you stop it?" The Doctor's expression grew grim, and she had her answer. "What do we do? How big will the blast be?" she pressed, scrambling to problem solve.
"Small, for a naquadah bomb, but still big enough for concern," he explained. "About the size of Central Park."
"And how long?"
"Just under eight minutes."
"Ah."
"Well?!" shouted Fabian from behind them. "Are you fixing it?!"
The Doctor turned back around calmly. "I can't," he said, and Fabian's eyes went hard as he let out another cuss, spinning on the spot and returning to yanking at his hair. "Look, the only way to save us all is for you to turn off the time dilation field. I have a ship, it can fit everyone in it and we can be gone just in time for this thing to explode – but we have to go now."
But neither of the men looked relieved. They exchanged harrowing glance. "We can't," said Stefan, a cold note to his voice, like his body was there but his mind wasn't. "We have a fourth man – Rodney – he activated it from the outside."
The Doctor's jaw clicked. "How long until it goes down – from our point of view?"
Stefan checked his watch. "Twenty-three minutes."
The Doctor hung his head.
"Can't you reach him? Radio out, tell him to bring it down?" Hartley pressed in a panic.
"Radio waves can't penetrate a time dilation field," the Doctor explained quietly. "We're out of sync. There's no way to contact him. Or anyone."
"And there's no way to stop the explosion? None at all?"
He shook his head grimly. "The damage is done. There's no going back."
"Maybe if we shut the vault door!" exclaimed Fabian suddenly. "The blast should be contained inside of it, right? I read the plans before this job – the walls are made of tungsten."
"Tungsten?" Hartley asked, unfamiliar with the word.
"It's the strongest naturally occurring metal found on Earth," muttered the Doctor factually. "One of the strongest on any planet, actually. It's a good idea, but it won't be enough to contain this kind of blast. These walls are too thin."
"Right material, wrong amount?" asked Hartley, and he nodded gravely, reaching up to rub his fingertips into his eyes, struggling to find a solution. "So what, you're all just going to die? That's it? Poof? Gone?" she asked, an edge of hysteria to her voice.
"What d'you mean you all?" asked Fabian in a snarl. "You're here too, princess. You'll die just the same."
Hartley didn't have time to tell him how wrong he was. She turned away, leaning to the side so she could just see out of the vault door. In the main part of the building the hostages were all cowered together, some still crying. Rose was sitting beside a crying woman, her pale hands still stained red with Patrick's blood.
She looked away, unable to stare into all the faces of the people who were about to die. There had to be a way – the Doctor had to know of a way. He was just showing off. Any second now, he'd come up with a brilliant plan to save them all.
But he didn't say anything, he just sat there, head in his hands, desperately trying to think of something – but to no avail.
Hartley's eyes began to sting, and she looked away, turning her gaze to the mounds perfect, glittering diamonds that surrounded them, like sparkling towers of physical wealth.
"Diamonds!" she exclaimed abruptly, spinning back around to face the Doctor with renewed enthusiasm, hope itching in her guts.
"Yes, well spotted," muttered Fabian bitterly. "We're going to die, but at least we'll be surrounded by something sparkly. Honestly," he scoffed derisively, "women."
"No, you jerk," she bit, turning her back on him and looking to the Doctor. "We're in a diamond factory. Atkins said they make them underground – that between us and the factory are tonnes and tonnes worth of materials designed to withstand this exact type of thing."
The Doctor was perfectly still for approximately three seconds, then all at once he shot to his feet like a jack-in-the-box wound too tight. The explosion of motion made both Stefan and Fabian flinch, but neither traveller paid them any mind.
"That – that might actually work!" exclaimed the Doctor, eyes wide with shock. He whipped around, turning the full force of his stare onto the two desperate robbers behind him. "Does the dilation field include the sub-levels?" he demanded.
"Uh – yeah. I, I think so," stammered Stefan.
The Doctor spun back around to Hartley, eyes wide with glee. Without hesitation he reached out, gripping her head in both his hands and dragging her to him, smacking his lips loudly and affectionately against her forehead. He let her go, all but bouncing where he stood.
"You, Hartley Daniels, are a genius," he said brightly, already scurrying over to the naquadah reactor thing and shutting the lid. She didn't know how to react, just watching him. "Hart, collect their guns," he continued in the same breath.
"Excuse me?" asked Fabian shrilly.
"It's part of the plan – we need the gunpowder in them," insisted the Doctor.
"Why?"
"No time to explain. Hurry!"
Reluctantly both robbers handed over their guns. Hartley took them gingerly, unsure why she had to. "What now?" she asked carefully.
"Hold them both at gunpoint until I get back," he replied, gathering the steampunk-looking box in his arms and making for the exit.
"Oi!" cried Fabian. "You said you needed the gunpowder!"
The Doctor didn't even look back, he just shouted over his shoulder, "I lied!"
Hartley gripped each gun in her hand, holding the dangerous ends in Stefan and Fabian's faces. "I guess he doesn't trust you not to double-cross us," she suggested. She jerked the guns at them in command, and reluctantly the pair of rather pitiful criminals held up their hands in surrender. "Out," she ordered them, and with furious, petulant glares they did as they were told, marching out into the main part of the factory, where the rest of the hostages awaited.
Everybody gasped when they saw how the tables had turned, some even cheering loudly for Hartley – although she was pretty sure Rose started that last bit.
The one called Jackson didn't seem to know what to do, eyes flickering helplessly between Hartley and his outsmarted accomplices.
"Jackson, hand Rose your gun," Hartley ordered him in no uncertain terms. He hesitated. "Now, thank you," she pressed intently as Rose stood to her feet and held out a hand for his weapon.
With a confused and somewhat fearful grimace, Jackson handed his gun off to Rose, who held it cautiously. Hartley nodded for her to aim it at Jackson, and she did so gingerly, hands shaking just a little.
"Come now, girls," said Fabian, doing his best to regain control of the situation. "Think about what you're doing."
"Where'd the Doctor go?" Rose asked Hartley, completely ignoring the fact that Fabian had even spoken.
"Downstairs," Hartley answered her succinctly.
"Why?"
Hartley didn't want to tell her in front of everybody – these people were scared enough as it was. They didn't need to know an explosion the size of Central Park was about to occur directly beneath their feet. "No reason," she said instead, meeting Rose's eyes across the room. Her friend got the message, nodding her head.
Fabian began to move towards the left of the room, as if edging around Hartley's field of view.
"No you don't," she barked, adjusting the aim of her gun, keeping him in their sights. Fabian froze, grimacing as he begrudgingly held up his hands.
What would the Doctor do now, she wondered. The answer came almost instantly. He would, of course, get them talking.
"You said you were hired to do this," she said, voice hard as the diamonds in the vault behind them. "Hired by whom?"
"Whom?" Fabian echoed as he gave a threatening, shark-like grin. "Well, aren't we proper?" Hartley tightened her grip on her gun. She wasn't going to use it – but they didn't need to know that. "I bet, outside of all this, you're something real vanilla, eh? A librarian, maybe?" he goaded her. She tried not to let anything on her face give her away, glaring back at him unflinchingly. "You'd never pull that trigger."
"Who are you working for?" she demanded again.
"You're not gonna hurt me," said Fabian, slowly beginning to saunter towards her. Hartley's heart dropped into her feet, and she sucked in a breath of shock as he grew closer. It took everything she had not to scramble back. She had the gun. She was in control. "I bet you're scared even touching a gun, eh?" he continued to sing.
"Hart..." called Rose, nervousness in her voice.
"You'll go to prison for this," Hartley warned Fabian, glad her voice didn't shake.
"Only if I get caught," he grinned wickedly.
"You'll get caught," she promised him.
"How?" he asked, pulling a playful pout. "You're not gonna shoot me. You don't have the stomach for it."
Hartley sucked in another breath. He was close now, too close for comfort, and she couldn't help but take a large step back. "You were going to shoot me," she reminded him tersely, recalling the cold press of the barrel of this same gun when it was held to her forehead, prepared to decorate the wall with her brains.
"Yeah, but we're different, you and I," Fabian purred. "You couldn't hurt a fly."
Hartley's eyes flickered away from him for a moment, landing on the body of Patrick. His skin was ashen and pallid, eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, body laid in a pool of its own blood. An innocent man who hadn't deserved to die – gone from this world thanks to one man's callous, selfish greed. Righteous anger surged through her like a bolt of lightning, and she turned back to Fabian with a snarl.
"Wanna bet?" she sneered, voice like acid, before firing the gun.
Fabian cried out in pain just as there was a great rumble from beneath them, the floor itself trembling violently from the explosion. Everyone who had been standing wasn't anymore, and the marble floor below their feet cracked and splintered like wood.
Both guns fell from Hartley's fingers as she collapsed to the fractured marble beneath. The whole explosion only lasted roughly ten seconds, then the rumbling stopped and everything went disconcertingly silent.
Hartley looked over to Rose, meeting her eyes across the field of destruction between them. "The Doctor!" cried Rose, scrambling desperately to her feet. Hartley followed, but her mission was to find all the dropped guns, gathering back up in her arms.
Better she have them than anyone else.
Once she had them all, she turned to Fabian. He was folded over himself on the floor, gripping his leg in agony, trying in vain to stem the flood of crimson blood that bubbled up from the gunshot wound in his knee.
"I can't believe you shot me!" he cried as if it were the most inconceivable thing about the day.
Hartley was utterly unimpressed. "You deserved it," she told him flatly, meaning every word, but he ignored her, holding his leg as he bled.
"Doctor!" shouted Rose, and Hartley spun around in time to see the Doctor sweep Rose up into a tight, exuberant embrace. "You're okay! What was that?"
"Just your typical naquadah reactor explosion," he said with a casual flippancy only he could ever achieve. "Would've killed us if not for Hartley's quick thinking," he added, letting go of Rose to bounce over to Hartley, sweeping her too up into a warm hug.
Still gripping three separate handguns in her hands, she did her best to squeeze him back, warmed by his attention. He pulled away, turning to survey the room.
"Everyone all right?" he asked the rest of the hostages, who nodded their heads gingerly, some still with tear tracks running down their once-immaculate faces. "Who shot Fabian?" he continued, eyeing the bleeding man on the floor with a frown.
"That'd be me," said Hartley, not proud by any stretch, but certainly not remorseful, either. "Still, s'just a kneecap. Worse case scenario; he needs a cane from now on."
"Not sure they let you have canes in prison," mused the Doctor. "Could be seen as a weapon."
Fabian glared up at them with hatred that left the Doctor unaffected. He stepped closer, kneeling down on the cracked marble beside the bleeding criminal.
"Who were you working for?" he asked, voice low but carrying in the cavernous room. "Who was behind this? Come on, do the right thing. Tell me who did this." Fabian said nothing, just glared like they were the bad guys here, not him. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Fabian," he continued, leaning in closer for the criminal to hear.
What he said next was whispered, too quiet for anyone but the two of them to hear. Hartley strained her ears, but she caught none of it. When the Doctor pulled back, Fabian's face was drawn into something that wasn't quite fury and wasn't quite horror, but rather a mix in between.
"Feel like telling me now?" asked the Doctor calmly.
Fabian paused, swallowed thickly, then nodded his head.
The moment the police got there, the three (four, including the one loitering on the outside, responsible for the time dilation field) criminals were taken into custody and all the hostages were seen to by medics and officers. The Doctor, however, flashed his psychic-paper and got the three of them out of there before anyone could say anything about taking them in for a statement.
The snow was just as cold on the walk back to the TARDIS as it had been before, but Hartley found she liked the icy temperature, leaning down to collect balls of the fresh, crunchy snow in her hands. It was soothing in a sensory sort of way, and she did it the entire way up to the TARDIS.
"So they were working under the orders of something called 'Torchwood?" Rose was asking the Doctor, confused. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
"Name of that house – that one in Scotland in 1879, with Queen Victoria and the werewolf? Remember?" asked the Doctor, and Rose nodded. Hartley knew this to be something that happened only a few days before she'd been thrown back into their lives, but Rose had told her the story during one of their late-night talks. It sounded like one of the more crazy adventures, that much was certain.
"Do you think there's a connection?" asked Rose carefully.
"Nah," he shrugged as he pulled out his key, sliding it into the lock and pushing open the door to his brilliant ship. "Probably just a coincidence."
"You don't believe in coincidences," Hartley called out critically, slipping into the TARDIS after Rose, kicking the excess snow off her shoes before shutting the door after herself. "You say they're hogwash."
"Do I?" he asked innocently.
"All the time," agreed Rose.
"Huh," he hummed, leaving it at that.
The girls met eyes across the console, both silently agreeing not to push the matter. The Doctor would talk when he was ready. "What'd you say to him?" Hartley asked suddenly, and the Doctor looked up just as the TARDIS began to tremble and wheeze as he took them back into the vortex.
"Say to who?" he asked innocently. Hartley wondered whether he were really clueless, or just playing dumb.
"Fabian," she pressed. "You whisper something to him, and suddenly he spills his guts."
"Oh, that," he said, giving a theatrical little twirl as he piloted his ship. "I just told him that whoever had sent him to do this was setting him up for failure."
Hartley and Rose were only more confused. "What d'you mean?" asked Rose. "How's that?"
"Well, that naquadah reactor was already failing, and the instructions they'd given him to dismantle it, well – they were really more of a recipe on how to make a bomb," he shrugged.
"I don't get it," muttered Hartley, hopping up onto the jump seat, the springs squeaking under her added weight. "Why would Torchwood – whatever it is – just send four men on a suicide mission like that? What's the point?"
"Dunno," said the Doctor flippantly. "But it's over now. And that's what matters."
They settled into an uneasy silence. The Doctor did that a lot, Hartley found. The moment something was done, it was in the past, no longer relevant. She disagreed; the past was what made the future worth it. To pretend it didn't exist was to rob yourself of what was to come; made it pointless and dry. The past gave everything you did now value.
"Up for some dinner, Hart?" asked Rose abruptly.
"Yeah," she agreed, realising suddenly how hungry she was. "Where d'you wanna go?"
"Thought we'd stay in; you can cook."
"Oh I can, can I?" Hartley asked dryly, amusement curling at her lips. Rose beamed back, a flash of pink tongue poking through pearly white teeth. "All right," Hartley relented, realising that it didn't actually take very much to sway her when it came to the people she loved. "I wanna shower first, though. Meet you in the kitchen in twenty?"
"Make it thirty?"
"Deal."
Rose grinned and disappeared, leaving Hartley and the Doctor in silence. Hartley sighed, standing to her feet and stretching until her back gave a satisfying pop.
"You hungry, Doc?" she asked, looking over to where he was halfheartedly piloting the TARDIS.
"Eh, not really," he replied.
"I can make your favourite," she offered.
"Apple crumble for dinner?" he countered, raising a skeptical brow.
"For dessert, maybe, if you stop sulking," she laughed.
"I'm not sulking."
She cocked her head to the side, eyes sweeping over his familiar form. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to withhold apple crumble until you do?"
The Doctor pursed his lips, chewing on his words carefully before answering. "I wasn't actually going to let them shoot you," he eventually told her, and she blinked in surprise. "I could see it in your eyes, when he held the gun to your head," he continued all at once, like if he didn't say it now he never would. "You thought I was going to let you die."
And it was true, in those moments she had understood and accepted that she was going to have to die. She hadn't liked it, but fighting it would have been a pointless waste of her time. Even now, him staring at her with big, imploring eyes, some part of her still believed he would have let her die.
"But you stopped them," she said, but even to her own ears it sounded like she were trying to convince herself.
"But you didn't think I would."
She hesitated, glancing away to gather herself before looking back and saying honestly, "no."
"Why?"
It was a fair enough question – although its answer was far more complicated. "I dunno," she admitted with a listless shrug. "Self-esteem, I guess."
"Self-esteem?"
She really didn't want to talk about this right now. Couldn't he see that? "I'm really hungry, Doc," she said, the words more a plea than a statement. "Can the psychoanalysis wait for another day? A day that doesn't involve nearly getting blown to pieces by a naquadah bomb – whatever naquadah is, anyway..."
"It's an extremely rare, super-dense mineral that can be used to greatly amplify energy––"
"Naquadah is dangerous. Gotcha," she smiled wryly, and the Doctor cracked a hint of a smile in response. "And you're coming to dinner, mister," she ordered him quickly. "I'll even make my special lasagna."
"What makes it so special, exactly?" he asked critically.
"Love," she replied without missing a beat. His expression twisted in a mix of skepticism and amusement. "And also jalapeños," she confessed.
"Oh, all right," he sighed like she were asking just slightly too much of him. "Go on," he waved her away. "I'll come when I can smell it cooking."
Rolling her eyes, Hartley turned towards the hall that would lead to her bedroom. She paused in the doorway, casting a look back. "Hey, Doc?" she called, making him look up from his monitor expectantly. "Thanks for not letting me die today," she said, voice shaking a tiny bit with vulnerability. "It really … it meant a lot."
He smiled, warm and sincere. "Always, Hart," he swore, a power behind the promise that she couldn't fully comprehend before he turned back to his work, leaving her to walk back to her room, trying to figure out why her pulse was still thundering so loudly in her ears.
A/N: So I know it's been longer than usual between updates, but things have been hectic on my end. I think this chapter will make up for it, though. I like it quite a lot, myself. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Send me a review and let's talk about it!
If anyone picked up the small Stargate reference in this one, let me know! I'll be super impressed, mostly because it'll mean you've seen my other favourite show of all time!
Also, be warned; things are about to take a sharp turn. I hope you guys are ready, because:
Coming up next: Army of Ghosts & Doomsday