Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bracing himself against the wind, Mickey wished he had thought to put a proper coat on before following the fleeting, tantalising idea that had passed through his mind and refused to leave. Not that he was sure he would be able to find his coat in the TARDIS. The mess that falling from one universe to another had created of the interior startled him. He wasn't sure how they were going to put everything back together, and the effort required to sort through the chaos to find a coat sent a feeling of exhaustion washing through him. To his mind, as long as Jack was warm then that was all that mattered. The drugs he was taken to manage his pain and speed along the healing process of his knees left him susceptible to the cold, and Mickey worried. However, he currently seemed perfectly content with a thick throw over his lap and a jumper that was soft to the touch on his upper body, watching the Zeppelins drift high above them, not pressing Mickey on their destination or what it was he needed to do.
Mickey appreciated that.
The slap-slap of the Doctor's converses against the ground broke made him tense. The Doctor was less likely to go with the flow, his magpie-like mind needing the answers to everything and anything even if it wasn't his business. Waiting until the Doctor drew level with him, a small smile lingering on his mouth – and Mickey didn't want to know what Zoe had done to him to put that there – before he spoke.
"I'm not goin' back to the TARDIS," he said, ready for an argument. "So you can spare me the lecture."
"No lecture, just company," the Doctor replied, hands dropping into his pockets, an easy lope to his body that served only to make Mickey suspicious. "My company, to be exact. Since you've decided to revert back to Mickey the Idiot –"
"Doctor," Jack warned, tearing his eyes from the Zeppelins. "Don't."
"Then I've decided to come with you," he said with a shrug. "Keep you from falling into a vat of sherbet."
Mickey frowned. "Is that supposed to make sense?"
"Yes," the Doctor said. "Maybe not to you though. There was a whole analogy just now with Zoe and – you know what? Never mind. It's not important. Where are we going then? Somewhere exciting I hope to make up for this absolutely horrible decision you've decided to make."
"Where's Zoe?"
Looking over his shoulder hopefully, Mickey searched for Zoe in the hope that she was coming along too and would be able to keep the Doctor under control. To his disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen.
"Gone off with Rose," the Doctor said, hopping over a crack in the concrete and smiling widely at a father pushing his child along in a pushchair. "I'm keeping you out of trouble, she's keeping her out of trouble. We're doing a lot of legwork today. I'm not sure I like it. Because do you know what I could be doing instead?"
"Zoe?" Jack asked.
The Doctor freed a hand from his pocket and lightly clipped his unrepentant friend around the back of the head.
"I could be on a date with my girlfriend in a parallel universe," he said, and Mickey's insides clenched at hearing the Doctor refer to Zoe as my girlfriend. "You could be on a date with your boyfriend for that matter, or whatever the hell it is you're calling yourselves."
"We haven't actually talked about it, so thanks for bringing that up," Jack said.
"Oops." The Doctor grimaced. "Sorry. But, my point is, you're not thinking outside the box here, Mickey. Why go off and stir up the hornet's nest of temptations when you can go measure soil nutrients and check out birds and have a good snog beneath a Zeppelin? Ooo." His eyes lit up, and Mickey resigned himself to another one of his rambling monologues. "There's an idea. We could go on a Zeppelin ride. Zoe would love that. You know the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones throws the Nazi out the window of the Zeppelin and says no ticket? She loves that bit. I'd have totally let her throw me out the window to make her happy. See? We could be doing that instead of whatever the hell we are doing."
"You talk so much," Mickey complained. "You didn't used to talk this much. You used to be all gruff an' Northern. Can we go back to that?"
"Nope," the Doctor said, Jack running a hand across his face in amusement. "So...where are we going?"
Mickey sighed, breath warming the air in front of him and sending a cloud of white over Jack's head. It was nothing, really. He doubted there was anything to worry about. The likelihood of him not even existing was a high one. Or maybe he did exist but he lived somewhere else, was another person entirely, someone who hadn't been shaped by Britain and London but instead by the heat of Jamaica. It might be nothing. Then again, there might be something, and that small possibility kept him putting one foot in front of them other, unable to leave without checking to make sure that the carpet on the stairs was nailed down. If he didn't, he would be haunted by it.
If Rita Smith did exist in this universe and had followed the same path she had done in Mickey's universe, then the chance that she lived in the house that he had grown up in after his mother's death was large. The thought of seeing her again, of hearing her voice and getting the opportunity to tell her how sorry he was for not being good enough, for not taking the time, made him feel like a child again.
Fingers flexing around the handles of the wheelchair, he hesitated, the story caught in his throat, choking him. Although the Doctor had been much better about not making fun of him since his regeneration and wasn't the sort – even before – to mock people's grief, months of being called Mickey the idiot and watching Rose run into the TARDIS had seared a scar on his soul that made him cautious.
"I want to check on my gran," Mickey said at last, the words dragged from him and landing heavily in the space between them. "Make sure she's all right."
"She's not your –"
"I know." The sharpness of his words caught the Doctor's mouth mid movement; he froze, taken aback by the interruption. A small brush of guilt swept through Mickey, and he took care to soften his tone. "I know she's not my gran but I still want to check on her."
Jack reached up and tugged on his ear, uncomfortable with not being able to reach around and give the support he wanted to give. He frowned when the Doctor pushed his hand away, rapping him on the head with gentle knuckles.
"Stop playing with it," the Doctor chastised, glancing at Mickey with a thoughtfulness that made his friend squirm. "How come I've never met your gran? It seems like I've met everyone else. Doesn't she live on the estate? Are you embarrassed of me?"
"Yes," Mickey said, and Jack bit down on his knuckles to muffle his laughter while the Doctor's face dropped, offended. "But she's dead, that's why you haven't met her. 'bout five years ago now. She –" he cleared his throat of the emotion that lodged itself there. "She'd asked me to nail down this carpet on her stairs. It kept comin' up at the corner an' I kept tellin' her I'd do it. Every time, I said I'd do it, I'd do it. I was gettin' annoyed that she was askin' me all the time because I had things to do, y'know? Then I didn't hear from her in a day or so, an' normally she was on at me all the time, makin' sure I was eatin' an' all that. I went 'round to check on her...found her at the bottom of the stairs, neck broken."
"Rassilon," the Doctor breathed, stopping in his tracks as Jack's hands came down on the wheels to freeze him in place, Mickey already regretting the decision to talk about it. The Doctor's hand, cool but firm, rested on his shoulder. "You know you're not to blame, right? Her death wasn't your fault."
"Whose else's was it?" He asked, anger tightening in his chest. "I told her I'd fix that damn carpet an' then I didn't. She tripped because I couldn't take ten minutes out of my day to help her out."
"Mickey, it's not your fault." Jack reached back and took his hand, gently linking their fingers together. Drawing it to his mouth, he kissed his knuckles, sending a shudder through Mickey at the alms that was offered as the Doctor watched them. "You've never mentioned her."
"It's hard to talk about," he admitted, clearing his throat again. "Rose always told me I shouldn't blame myself, but there was no one else to blame, an' I just want to see her again if she's here. Make sure she's okay an' there's nothin' she needs help with. Once I do that...I don't know, maybe I'll feel better, maybe I won't. I just...how often am I goin' to have a chance like this?"
"Hopefully never," the Doctor said, and Jack closed his eyes, drawing on a well of patience that was slowly running dry. "I don't mean – all I mean is that once we leave, I'll fill in the cracks of the universe with – I don't know – moulding or something, and we won't be falling through into parallel worlds again."
"Shame," Jack said, his deliberate lightness sharpened to a fine edge. "Might've found a universe where you know what tact is."
Mickey laughed, squeezing Jack's hand before letting it go and nudging the wheelchair forward as the Doctor loped along beside him, a slightly embarrassed air to him.
"What was she like, your gran?" The Doctor asked.
"Brilliant," he said. "Tough. Real tough. She was part of the Windrush generation an' needed to be. People didn't like rentin' to black people back then but she didn't let that stop her. Got a job as a seamstress. Ended up on Saville Row workin' for some posh tailor before her eyesight got so bad she had to pack it in. She was one of the few who actually owned her own home around here. She left it to me in her will but I couldn't – livin' there after everythin' was hard so I rented it out an' moved onto the estate. Used to think me an' Rose would end up there with kids before – well, you know."
Before me, the Doctor thought, an odd stirring of guilt giving him pause for thought. He was aware of the somewhat explosive effect he had on people's lives when he appeared in them, but he had never stuck around to experience the consequences of it before. It was troubling.
"She raised me after my mum died," he continued, the story falling from him now that the vault had been cracked open. "My dad wasn't around much even when she was alive but he didn't stick around long after her death. He'd always had one foot out the door. I think he's in Spain now with a new family. I don't know. Never really bothered findin' out."
The Doctor looked down at his feet. "How did she die?"
"Mum?" Mickey asked as though surprised by the question. "She killed herself when I was six. Came home from school an' found her in the bathroom. An overdose, apparently."
"Jesus, Micks," Jack said, cold with surprise. "You never said a word."
He shrugged. "Don't think about it all that much to be honest. An' I kind of figured the girls would've told you."
"Zoe's told me nothing," the Doctor said. "And I'm sorry about your family. You deserved better."
"It is what it is," Mickey said. "Not like there isn't one of us who has it all sorted out family wise."
"We are something of a bag of family issues, aren't we?" Jack mused. "Me and my brother, Rose and her dad, the Doctor and his family, Zoe and her wife, you and your everything. We've all lost people important to us."
"Like is drawn to like, I suppose," the Doctor said. "I'm just sorry I never met your gran, Micks. She sounds like I would've liked her."
"You would have," Mickey said, amused at the idea. "She was just your sort of person: mad and a little bit strict. Kind of what I imagine Zoe will be like when she's old."
"There's a terrifying thought," Jack said. "She'll be whacking us with her cane and complaining about not being able to read books because her eyesight's going."
The talk of Zoe ageing caused fear to shroud the Doctor and he was relieved when their conversation lapsed into friendly, easy silence as they headed towards the nearest tube station. As their Oyster cards didn't work in this parallel universe, they had to buy new ones, which meant the Doctor standing casually at an ATM as he used the sonic screwdriver to withdraw £100 to see them through the day. Stepping onto the tube, the Doctor grabbed hold of a dangling hand hold and wondered how Zoe and Rose were getting on, hoping that some time spent together would ease the distance between them. It was hard not to feel responsible for the cold shoulder Zoe was receiving, and he wished that Rose would direct her annoyance and anger onto him rather than her sister.
Lost in his thoughts, he was taken aback by the cold air when they emerged from the tube station in the Docklands, helping Mickey with Jack's wheelchair as the station was unhelpfully inaccessible for wheelchair users. Cursing humans lack of ability to think empathically in every universe, he missed the sudden cessation of activity, only looking up when his voice took on a strange echo, mouth dropping open in surprise at the sight of huge swathes of people frozen in place.
"What the hell?" Jack muttered, leaning heavily on Mickey who had an arm looped around his waist to keep the pressure off his knees. "Are they frozen?"
"Sit down," the Doctor instructed, giving the wheelchair a yank and rolling it towards him. "When we're done here and back home, I'm taking you to a resort whether you like it or not. Your knees need to heal and I've been stupid not to do it before now."
"Right, yeah, sounds great, but are you seeing what we're seeing?" Jack asked, gesturing at the crowd as Mickey helped him into his seat. "Because I might be hallucinating again."
"You're not hallucinating," he said, passing his hand in front of a set of unseeing eyes, frowning when the movement wasn't tracked. Circling the still human, his attention was drawn to the bulky earpieces that flashed blue, and he slipped his sonic screwdriver out and scanned it. "That's interesting. It's the earpieces. Everyone's got one. It looks like they're all connected."
Mickey poked the shoulder of a young man with a sprinkling of acne over his forehead. "To what?"
He shrugged, baffled. "No idea."
Jack grunted and reached into his pocket, removing his phone that was vibrating in his pocket, and he swiped the screen open.
"Something's downloading on my phone: news, international news, sports, weather." The Doctor and Mickey crowded around him, their shadows making it difficult to see the screen. He lifted his head and looked around at the crowd – seventy or eighty people were gathered in the street outside the tube station – and fascination consumed him. "Do you think they're all getting this direct?"
"What, downloadin' it straight into their heads?" Mickey asked. "Wait a sec, Rose told me somethin' about this once. Didn't you travel with a guy who downloaded somethin' into his brain? She said you kicked him off the TARDIS for it."
"You kicked someone off the TARDIS?" Jack twisted to look up at the Doctor, regretting the move as the muscles in his back screamed in protest. "Really? When?"
"Brain door," the Doctor said, snapping his fingers in memory. "I'd almost forgotten about him. And you're right, I did kick him off, bloody idiot that he was. Rose and I were being threatened and nearly killed and that prat was off getting all of human history downloaded into his mind. He's lucky I let him keep his brain."
"Is this that then?" Mickey asked.
"Don't know," he said, slipping on his glasses and taking Jack's phone. "Direct downloads aren't exactly recommended, not without some augmentation like Jack has here. But maybe they have them. Maybe that's a divergence between this universe and ours. The question is though, who's doing the download? The government?"
Mickey examined the screen on his own phone. "Cybus Industries. Look, they've got a little logo in the corner."
While they were watching, the next download was put into the system, a daily joke – Velcro, what a rip-off! - that sent laughter rippling through the crowd before the lights stopped flashing and life flooded back into them. A brief moment of stillness carried over as the system retreated from their minds, eyes blinking and heads shaking, before everyone started moving again. They simply resumed their path, carrying on about their business as though they hadn't been stopped in their tracks. The Doctor watched them return to their lives, confused.
"That was weird," he said, tapping into the information on Jack's phone to access the network, eyes scanning the screen. "My, my, my, Cybus Industries have been busy, haven't they? It looks like they own most of the companies in Britain. A fair number in Europe as well." He paused, a cold feeling of dread washing over him. "They own Vitex too."
Mickey stood at his shoulder. "Pete Tyler's company?"
"The one and only," he said. "Sold to Cybus about two years ago. Made his fortune that way by the looks of it."
Jack rubbed his finger over his mouth. "You want to go after the girls, don't you?"
"Go," Mickey said. "We'll catch up with you later."
The Doctor's mouth turned dry but he shook his head, handing the phone back to Jack.
"Zoe can take care of herself," he decided. "And Rose if necessary. This doesn't matter. We're not going to be here long enough for it to matter. This universe is none of our business. We're just going to go deal with Mickey's curiosity and then meet back at the TARDIS for something to eat and a wander around the library for Zo."
"Why does it feel like you're trying to reassure yourself that's what's going to happen?" Jack asked.
"Probably because that's exactly what I'm trying to do," he said, his own phone beeping with an incoming message, and he nearly dropped his glasses in his eagerness to answer. "It's Zoe."
Mickey shoved his hands into his pockets. "What she say?"
Saw the download thing. Totally weird. Rose and I are still heading to see Pete against my best judgement.
Wish me luck.
xxx
"She's going to need it," Jack considered.
Hearing from Zoe eased the tension in his chest and the Doctor smiled at his friends. "Right then. Let's go see Mickey's gran and try not to think about this weird, weird thing."
"Are you actually capable of doin' that?" Mickey asked, taking hold of Jack's wheelchair again and resuming their journey. "I thought your brain was wired for weird stuff."
"Only on Mondays."
The temperature was beginning to drop as the sky started to turn grey with the threat of night approaching. February in London appeared to be cold across the universes and the Doctor put his fingers in the pockets of his coat, missing Zoe's hand tucked into his, her human body running at a slightly higher temperature that helped keep him warm in cold climates.
Out of deference for Rose's feelings and an awareness that their relationship out in the open changed the dynamics of the TARDIS, they had avoided their usual displays of affection – hand holding, the occasional hug, normal things that he did with all of them but more carefully with Zoe until now. It was also, if he was being honest, partly a way to avoid the knowing grins that Jack was aching to give them, having held himself in check marvellously well over the last few days but it was obvious that he was dying to say something and the Doctor knew that the dam would soon break.
When they got back to their own universe, the Doctor was going to hold Zoe hand again, Rose's feelings be damned. He felt they had been more than patient with her, and he certainly didn't want to hurt her, but he also didn't want to be forbidden from holding Zoe's hand whenever she was around. And he wanted to be able to kiss her goodbye when they went off in other directions now that everyone knew instead of squeezing her shoulder and hoping she understood that he loved her. And in the evenings when they were all gathered together and chatting, he wanted to play with her hair without anyone making anything of it.
He was tired of keeping his hands and his affections to himself, his love for Zoe something he wanted to incorporate into his daily life if not shout from the rooftops.
"That looks like trouble," Jack noted, eyes scanning the army roadblock that immediately put the Doctor's back up, guns visible every way he turned. "Best behaviour everyone, and I mean you, Doctor."
"I'm not a child," he said, irritated.
"No, you're a Time Lord, and sometimes I think that's worse," Jack replied, slipping on a charming, polite smile as they reached the military cordon. "Evening."
The soldier yawned, the back of his throat on display, before he scratched his thigh. "What d'you want?"
"Are we all right to get past?" Mickey asked before the Doctor or Jack did something that drew unwanted attention to them. "We're just headin' to my gran's."
"Yeah, no bother," the soldier said, boredom painted across his face. "Curfew doesn't start till ten."
The Doctor's eyebrows shot up and, unable to stop himself, asked – "there's a curfew?"
"Course there is," the soldier scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Where've you been living, mate? Up there with the toffs?"
Mickey shot the Doctor a look. "Nah, he just doesn't get out much. Bit of a hermit. We're his care in the community helpers."
The soldier grinned. "Best of luck to you. Don't forget to be indoors by ten though. Posh twat like him'll have a rough time of it down at the blocks."
"Thanks, I think," the Doctor said with a frown, ducking under the bar that was half lifted for them to pass through. He glanced back over his shoulder as they moved through the military cordon. "He was rude. Posh twat indeed."
"Didn't you have an estate or somethin' on Gallifrey?" Mickey asked. "Or your dad did. I remember you tellin' me about it at Zoe's graduation. Red fields an' all that."
"Well, yeah, my parents had the estate, I didn't," he replied. "I lived in a perfectly normal house with my wife and kids. You humans and your fascination with money is one of the things that confuses me the most about you lot. Sorting people into class structures as though an excess of wealth makes you a better sort of person. It's no wonder you have as many problems as you do."
"If you're going to lecture us about human foibles, could you record it and send it to me so I can listen to it when I've got a whiskey to hand?" Jack asked. "They're easier to sit through drunk."
"There's an idea," the Doctor mused. "I could do a lecture series."
"Please don't," Mickey requested, pained at the thought of being made to sit through them. "An' will you both focus, please? Why d'you think there's a curfew?"
"Could be any number of reasons," the Doctor said, his lecture series idea fading into the back of his mind as he unwrapped a packet of Starburst that Zoe had put in his pockets. He dropped a pink one into Jack's outstretched hand and let Mickey choose his from the square pack. "Although, I did once visit a parallel world where Britain was a fascist state in the 70s that came complete with an evil Brigadier. I hope it's not the same one."
"Do fascists even like Black people?" Mickey asked.
"No idea," he said. "Don't think they like much of anyone really though."
As the Doctor and Jack continued to both theorise about the curfew and eat their way through the Starburst, their voices forming a familiar cadence that lulled Mickey as he trod a path he hadn't walked since his gran's funeral. The residential street was close enough to the one back home that it didn't cause him too many moments of disorientation, although there was a Chinese down at the end instead of an Indian. Drawing Jack's wheelchair to a stop, he stared across the road at Number One. The front door was recently painted and the lace curtains that he had hated growing up hung in the window. Cold air filled his lungs when he breathed in deeply, startling when Jack touched his hand.
"You okay?"
"I don't know," Mickey admitted. "It's strange bein' here an' knowin' that she might be there. It's exactly the same. The house. It's just like I remember."
"Do you want us to come with you?" The Doctor asked. "Or just Jack? I can stay back here and keep myself entertained. I'm pretty sure I've got a book on me somewhere."
"Zoe just uses you as a walking storage unit, doesn't she?" Jack said, amused. "You're all soft and pliable in love. It's kind of entertaining."
The Doctor snorted. "Says you. Mickey's made a bloody house cat out of you. Isn't that right, - where's he gone? I wish people would stop wandering off when my back's turned. It makes a person twitchy."
"We really need to stop getting distracted in the middle of things," Jack sighed, eyes tracking Mickey as he crossed the street, shoulders tense and spine rigid with determination. "Stop being a good conversationalist."
"Stop distracting me with good conversation," the Doctor replied. "Another Starburst?"
"Don't mind if I do, thanks."
Gathering his courage to him, Mickey lifted his hand and rattled the knocker against the door, mind running a mile a minute in an attempt to figure out what to say if it was his grandmother behind the door. Panic trickled through him. If she had a grandson who was identical to him, then he wasn't going to pass the muster and she would clip him around the ear, thinking he was some imposter. Realising, for the first time, how right the Doctor was – this was truly a terrible idea – he stepped back from the front of the house, palms clammy and throat closing up, when the door opened and Mickey's breath caught in his throat.
Gran.
"Who's that there?" Rita demanded, the accented timbre of her voice making Mickey's throat thicken as it clogged with emotion, stealing his ability to speak. "Who is it? I know you're there. Shame on you, tricking an old lady. I've got nothing worth stealing, and don't think I'm going to disappear!" She raised her white cane, brandishing it like a sword, nearly taking Mickey's eye out. "You're not going to take me."
Fighting through his grief, he found his voice. "Hi."
Rita paused, hope slipping into the deep lines of her face, a whisper breaking free. "Is that you?"
"It's me," Mickey said, voice like sandpaper. "I'm home."
"Ricky?" Her hand reached out, trembling. "Ricky, is that you, my boy?"
He flinched, the sting of the Doctor's indifference having left a wound. "It's Mickey."
"I know my own grandson's name," she said firmly, stepping forward with uneasy steps that made him automatically reached for her. "It's Ricky. Now, come here."
Mickey took a step towards her and fell into her embrace. Soft and warm with the gentle fragrance of her floral perfume that was exactly the same, tears pressed hotly against his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. His entire body trembled as he held her, her hand kind and loving against the back of his head, her own breath a little shaky as though she was finding it as hard to believe as he was. Slowly and with great reluctance, he pulled back, wiping at his face, and he risked a glance behind him to where the Doctor and Jack watched them. As on, their thumbs came up, identical pleased grins on their faces, silently congratulating him on his good fortune, and he smile. Happiness suffused him and –
"Ow!"
"Oh no," the Doctor winced, feeling the slap that Rita Smith delivered to the back of Mickey's head. "That looked like it hurt. Rassilon, she's got a bit of an arm on her, hasn't she?"
Across the street, they watched as Rita leaned into the violence and slapped every inch of Mickey she could reach.
"Do you think we should help him?" Jack asked, worried,
The Doctor shook his head. "You want to get in the middle of that? I don't want to be slapped today, thank you very much. My face is still sore from Jackie having a go at it the other day."
"Well..." Jack paused, relaxing when Rita ran out of steam and started poking Mickey with her cane. "You were shagging her daughter in a closet."
The Doctor sighed and flicked Jack's good ear.
"It's been days and days," Rita exclaimed, voice warbling on her emotions. The assault seemingly at an end, Mickey slowly lowered his arms, body aching from her loving attention, and stared at her, absorbing her worry and fury. "I keep hearing all these stories. People disappearing off the streets. There's nothing official on the download but there're all these rumours, and whispers. I thought you'd been disappeared!"
"Gran, I don't know what –" he trailed off, blood turning to ice in his veins. Over her shoulder on the stairs, a piece of carpet was loose and pulled up from the corner. The same carpet. The same stair. The same simple task he hadn't completed in either universe. Bile surged up his throat, and he forced it back down. "That carpet on the stairs...I told you to get it fixed. You're goin' to fall an' break your neck."
Rita straightened up. "Well, you get it fixed for me."
"I'm sorry," he said, grief spearing through his heart, tears pooling in his eyes as he struggled with the weight of the guilt that pressed onto his chest. "I should have done way back. I guess I'm just kind of useless."
"Now," she said, softening instantly. "I never said that."
"I am, though," Mickey said, throat closing. "An' I'm sorry, Gran. I'm so sorry. I should've – I should've been better for you. You raised me better than that, an' I'm sorry."
Worry played across Rita's handsome face. "Don't talk like that. Do you know what you need? A nice cup of tea and a sit down. You got time?"
Mickey almost laughed, dragging a hand across his face. "For you, I've got all the time in the world."
"Oh, you say that but it's all talk," she scoffed, eyes rolling behind her dark glasses. "It's those new friends of yours. I don't trust them."
He sniffed and wished he carried a handkerchief like Jack did. "What friends are they?"
"Don't pretend you don't know," Rita warned. "You've been seeing them, Mrs Chan told me. Driving about all helter skelter in –"
Tires screeched against the tarmac. Rita clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, wincing as her hearing aid caused the noise to spike directly in her ear, pulling back and trying to shield herself in the door. Automatically, Mickey put himself in front of his grandmother, one arm stretched out across the front of her body, and he turned to watch a large black van jerked to a halt in front of him. Blocked from sight, Mickey heard the Doctor's irritated 'hey, watch how you're driving!' as dark plumes of exhaust spat out into the air, making Rita cough as it coated the back of her throat.
The doors swung open and a young Caucasian man jumped out and grabbed hold of him. Mickey twisted out of the grip and brought his hand up in a move Jack had taught him, blood bursting from the man's nose as he toppled back.
"Who the fuck are you?" Mickey demanded. "Gran, quick, get inside."
"Ricky –"
"Inside, please."
Hearing the urgency in his voice, Rita's trembling hand squeezed his shoulder before fumbling her way back inside, locking the door behind her, just as the Doctor burst around the side of the van.
"You okay?" The Doctor demanded. "Who's he?"
"No idea," Mickey shrugged. "Where's –?"
"Stuck on the pavement," he answered. "London's a really unfriendly city for wheelchair users. We need to talk to Harriet about that when we get back. It's honestly shocking. You sure you're all –"
An arm emerged from the passenger's seat window and pressed a taser to the soft spot beneath his arm that was visible due to the Doctor's penchant for wild gestures. Mickey watched his friend seize and drop to the ground, pain lancing through him as his muscles seized and electricity coursed through his body that twitched and convulsed. Anger took Mickey into its embrace, and he opened his mouth and –
"Jack, trouble!"
"What the fuck's wrong with you?" The bloodied man complained, staggering to his feet and cuffing him around the back of the head, Mickey's ears ringing with the blow. "I've been looking for you bloody everywhere and you punch me in the damned nose?"
"Get him in the van," the woman who had tasered the Doctor said from the front seat, lilting Welsh accent at odds with the violence of the moment. "Jake, for God's sake, hurry up!"
"Mickey," Jack yelled from the other side of the van. "Mickey, Doctor!"
"We don't have time for this," Jake exclaimed, irritation leading him to reach into the van and grab a damp rag. "Sorry for this but you're acting real strange right now."
Mickey dodged the first attempt at grabbing him only to trip over the Doctor's twitching ankles and tumble against the side of the van, catching himself on the door. Jake lunged at him and pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose. The sharp, slightly sweet smell of chloroform invaded his senses and filled his lungs, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he slumped. Jake used the momentum of his falling body to shove him into the back of the van. As soon as their feet left the ground, the driver slammed her foot against the accelerator and whipped past Jack so fast that he was knocked from his wheelchair that tipped onto its side, one wheel spinning.
"Ricky, Ricky!" Rita stumbled from the house, cane tapping urgently against the ground to check her path, and she waved her fist after the van. "Bring him back! Bring my boy back, you monsters!"
"Jesus fucking Christ," Jack swore, struggling to right himself. "Doctor, stop twitching!"
The Doctor groaned low and long from between clenched teeth, jaw aching from the pressure, and wrestled his body back under controlled. Relieved that he had retain command over his bladder, he sat up only for a lingering spark of electricity to render him on his back again. He hated being tased. It was rude and unnecessary. A simple punch was much politer and didn't force him to run the risk of his bodily functions exploding on him. To his side, Jack scrambled for his wheelchair and on the other, Rita had descended into harsh, dry, panicked sobs.
Come on, he thought, fingers curled into clenched fists. Come on, you can do it.
With another groan, he snapped back to himself and relaxed his jaw. Pain pressed through the lower half of his face, a dull headache setting in, and he ignored both as he staggered to his feet and made his way to Jack. Jerking the wheelchair upright, he took Jack beneath the arms and dropped him into it before he turned and held his hand out to Rita, beseeching her to stop crying.
"Be quiet," he snapped. "I can't think with you crying like that."
"Don't tell me to be quiet, boy." The Doctor tripped backwards, landing heavily on his hip that sent a bloom of pain out from the point of impact, in an effort to avoid Rita's cane. "Them bastards have taken my grandson."
"Yeah, I know," he said, the pain sending nausea through him and the Starburst gurgled uncomfortably in his stomach. "We need a car. Think you can steal us one?"
"I'm not a thief!"
"I'm not talking to you," the Doctor said, rolling his eyes towards Jack who abandoned the wheelchair and lurched his way to the nearest car, muscles in his arms straining as he kept as much weight as possible off his knees. "Jack, wheelchair!"
"In a fucking second," Jack shot back, yanking the door open and flopping inside. Within seconds, the engine roared to life. "Done, but I can't drive the damn thing."
Getting back to his feet, the Doctor took the wheelchair by the handles and lifted only for his body to seize, muscles caught in the grip of leftover electricity that shocked through him. His right knee buckled and, as he journeyed towards the ground once more, he smacked his forehead against one of the handles, a welt appearing above his brow.
"Neither can you," Jack said, squirming out of the car and slumping to the ground, knees screaming in agony: from the small amount of physical therapy Zoe had helped him with to falling through the universes and now this, he had done too much for his healing knees to cope with. "Fucking shit."
A clack of a cane against the ground drew his attention.
"I'll drive," Rita said.
"You're blind."
"Are you?"
"No."
"Then you're my eyes," she told him, tapping her way to the car. "Those crooks have taken my Ricky and I'm not having it."
The Doctor spat a mouthful of bloodied saliva on the ground, cheek sore from where his teeth had sliced into the soft flesh, and groaned.
"We're all going to die."
Rita, it turned out, had one speed.
Fast.
Jack was barely able to give her directions read from his phone that was synced with Mickey's, tracking him through London, before she was jerking the wheel and screeching around corners. The fact that she was as blind as a bat – her words, not his – wasn't enough to inject a touch of caution into her driving, and Jack made sure the seatbelt was stretched across him the moment they were on a long stretch of road. In the backseat, the Doctor alternated between panicked yelps when Rita zoomed past a lorry, hand pressed to the horn and fingers flying in a recognisably rude gesture, and long groans of annoyance and pain as his body refused to do what he needed it to do.
"Left in five – four – three –" he reached up to grab the handhold above his head, the Doctor doing the same in the back. "– two – one. Now."
Rita twisted the wheel and the car canted to one side. Having come close to death only recently, Jack was eager not to do so again and was relieved when the vehicle straightened out and they barrelled down an access road that was wide enough for two lorries to squeeze by each other if they were careful. His phone beeped. The tracking app Zoe had designed and created with input from the Doctor after Jack's abduction and torture was proving to be exceptionally useful. As none of them were comfortable with the Doctor injecting them with a tracker – his preferred idea – they had compromised on downloading the tracking software onto their phones. Unimaginatively named où-es tu? – the French, apparently, made it sound more sophisticated – it pinpointed Mickey's location perfectly.
Jack told Rita to cut the engine and ghost to a stop outside an abandoned building. Silence descended on them as they took in their location.
"Fire stations, especially abandoned ones are a little terrifying." the Doctor said, tongue clucking against the roof of his mouth. "Can you see any external security?"
"Some cameras," Jack said, squinting out of the window. "You got the sonic? I can probably get them from here."
The Doctor passed the sonic screwdriver to him and watched as Jack scrambled the cameras with a satisfaction that he understood. If someone had driven up and snatched Zoe, he would also want to participate in a bout of destruction. Rita, sat quietly in the driver's seat, suddenly spoke.
"Who are you people?"
"We're friends of your grandson," the Doctor said. "The good kind. He's been helping us out with some things. We'll get him back, Mrs Smith, don't you worry."
She snorted, and the resemblance to Mickey startled him.. "Don't worry. Don't worry, he says. All I do about that boy is worry. These new friends of his – the Preachers – they're a dangerous lot. They're going to get him into trouble or worse. You best not be with them, or I'll take my cane to you, boy. Don't think I will."
"I believe you," he said, not enjoying being called boy. "Now, thank you very much for the driving that's definitely going to feature in my nightmares, we need to go and get a closer look. Stay here, pop the heating on, and we'll be back with Mickey before you know it."
"Ricky, his name is Ricky."
The Doctor swallowed back the sudden burst of laughter that rose up through his chest. "Right, yeah, sorry. We'll be back with Ricky before you know it. Cross my hearts."
"I'm not leaving my grandson's fate in the hands of you two," she argued, opening the door and clambering out. "You both spent the ride screaming."
"You drive like a mad woman," he called out after her before slumping against the chairs and looking at Jack. "That date with Zoe is sounding really good right about now. Next time one of you gets an idea like this into your heads, just knock me out. It'll be far easier to deal with."
"Stop whining and help me out," Jack said. "My knees are in agony."
Climbing out of the car and casting an eye towards Rita who had yet to orient herself properly, tapping around on the ground for a path towards the building. There was time but, knowing what the Doctor knew about humans, it was only a matter of minutes before she gave up searching and starting yelling for her grandson. He removed Jack's wheelchair and set it on the ground and then his friend in it, before catching hold of Rita – lightly, by the elbow, he didn't want to risk her cane again – and put her hands on the handles, instructing Jack to whisper guidance to her as he crept on ahead to get a visual on Mickey.
Grateful for the fall of night that covered the area in darkness, the Doctor slid around the building and dropped to a crouch. Inching along the ground, the press of gravel cutting through his converses, he hooked his fingers around the crumbling stone window edge and peeked over the top.
The room was brightly lit and was a hodgepodge of equipment, dirty dishes, and books that tumbled everywhere. On a chair with his back to the window, Mickey was tied up and seemingly naked. Circling him was a man that the Doctor assumed was Ricky Smith, Rita's grandson, while Mickey's two kidnappers watched on in confusion. He was pleased to see the young man that had first jumped Mickey was sitting down, head tilted back, wads of tissue bundled up against his nose in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Were he inclined towards Zoe's slightly violent tendencies – her ability to go from soft and sweet to murderous if someone hurt the people she loved was, admittedly, a turn on – he might think that the bloodied nose was well deserved. Since he wasn't, he merely harrumphed under his breath and let a small smile twitch across his mouth.
"What do you see?"
The Doctor jumped, head smacking into the stone ledge, and he dropped to the ground as Ricky snapped around and frowned out of the window. Jack grimaced and gestured Rita back who edged back and dragged the wheelchair with her, the crunch of wheels over gravel less discreet than the Doctor would like.
"Sorry," Jack whispered, eyes sparkling with reflected light. "Thought you heard us."
"At this rate, I'm going to get a concussion," he complained quietly, rubbing the new bruise on his forehead. "And there are two Mickeys in there. Ours and Rita's. He also appears to be naked."
"Ricky?" Rita asked, startled.
"No, Mickey."
"I've told you –"
"Rassilon," the Doctor said, tightly. "Yes, sorry, Ricky." He looked to Jack. "They have guns but they don't look that well organised. I don't see anyone else in there. Think I'm just going to walk in and have a little chat with them."
"Guns?" Rita demanded. "My Ricky's using a gun? What trouble has that boy got himself into? I'm going to whoop him until he remembers he's a good boy. Where's the front door?"
"Mrs Smith, I don't think –" Jack began only for his recently healed ear to become trapped between her thumb and forefinger, the Doctor's eyes flaring wide with panic as she twisted it. "Ow, ow, ow!"
"Let go of that ear, it's a new one!"
"Where's the front door?"
Although the Doctor was certain Jack's ear was bonded firmly in place, there was a small nagging worry it might fall off if he wasn't careful, so he hissed at Rita that fine, I'll show you the bloody door, and got a ringing slap to the back of the head for his language. Gesturing at Jack to stay where he was – though not hoping he would actually do so as he was already in the process of levering the wheelchair around – he took Rita's dry, papery hand in his and did what he did best –
Waltz in through the front door.
It was far too easy to break into the empty fire station. They didn't even need to use the sonic screwdriver as the door was left on the hatch and there were no security feeds observing the entrance itself, clearly confident that their external cameras were enough to catch anyone getting close enough before they reached the door.
Despite appearances of vigilantes or a higher-than-average criminal gang, they were amateurs, which the Doctor considered was a good thing. Amateurs were more likely to collapse at the first sight of danger and, between him, Jack, and an angry grandmother, he was sure that they could look suitably dangerous long enough to get Mickey back, with or without clothes. The gentle creek of Jack's wheelchair filled the corridor behind them, and he glanced back, refusing to give his friend the satisfaction of an exasperated look. Pressing a finger to his mouth, he encouraged silence, squeezing Rita's hand in warning, as they stopped and listened to the conversation within.
"But that's my dad," Ricky said, his voice, if not his tone, nearly identical to Mickey's. "So, we're brothers?"
"Be fair," another voice chimed in, words muffled by a bruised nose. "What else could it be?"
"I don't know," Ricky said, Rita tensing beside the Doctor. "But he doesn't just look like me, he is exactly the same. There's something else going on here, Jake."
Rita wrenched her hand from the Doctor's and flung the door open into the room. The resulting crash it made against the wall caused those inside to jump – someone screamed – and guns were drawn.
"Ricky Smith, what on God's green earth do you think you're doing?"
Ricky gaped at her. "Gran?"
"Sorry to barge in," the Doctor said, unapologetically, strolling in after Rita who seemed to have the situation well in hand considering how she was slapping her grandson across every part of his body. "But we've come to get our friend back. Mickey, how you doing, mate?"
"I'm bloody freezin'," Mickey complained. "They stripped me down an' didn't bother turnin' the heatin' on. It's cruel an' unusual is what it is. You all right? You hit the deck pretty hard earlier."
"I'm fine, though I'd like to know who to thank for the tasering," the Doctor said as Jack entered the room and wheeled his way over to Mickey, removing a knife from his person to cut at the rope. The Doctor had long since given up on trying to understand where Jack kept the various weaponry when he didn't seem to wear pockets. "It was deeply unpleasant."
A middle aged woman with platinum blonde hair raised her hand. "That'd be me. Sorry about that but you were in my way. Name's Mrs Moore."
"The Doctor," he said, sniffing as he shook her hand. "You've already met Mickey, and the handsome chap in the wheelchair is Jack."
"Stop talking to them." Eyes beginning to bruise from Mickey's fist, Jake stood next to Mrs Moore and scowled. "Who even are they? We don't know who they are or what they want or why they've got a clone of Ricky right here. I bet they work for Cybus. They're probably spies."
"Unlikeliest bunch of spies I've ever seen," Mrs Moore said, her Welsh accent lilting pleasantly as Ricky finally got his arms around his grandmother, drawing her into a tight hug, her dry sobs a welcome change from the angry violence and pained yelps. "Ricky's clone, a man in a wheelchair, and a pinstriped lamppost? Nah. Whoever they are, they're not spies."
"Pinstriped lamppost?" The Doctor repeated, offended. "I beg your pardon?"
"You are a bit skinny this time round," Jack said, freeing Mickey from the rope and easing back to give him space to stand and stretch his sore limbs. "It's a wonder Zoe doesn't get a paper cut when you're together."
Mrs Moore flicked her eyes between them. "Who's Zoe?"
"His girlfriend," Mickey grumbled, pulling on his trousers. "Why d'you take my socks off? What was the point in that? What the hell was I goin' to be hidin' in my socks?"
"Any number of things," she said. "You'd be surprised how dangerous socks can be."
The Doctor grinned before remembering himself. "Hey, no, stop it. Don't be funny. You're not allowed to be funny. You tased me and kidnapped my friend."
"Would a cup of tea help smooth things over?" She offered. "I popped the kettle on when we got in so the water's boiled. And we've got some biscuits as well."
"You know, a cup of tea and a biscuit sounds perfect right about now, thank you," he said, looking towards the Smiths. "Mrs Smith, how are you doing over there?"
She dried her eyes beneath her glasses with the edge of Ricky's shirt. "Happy to have my boy safe and sound."
"I can't believe you got my gran involved in this," Ricky said, annoyed, one arm looped around her shoulders. "Are you mad?"
"We needed a driver," Jack shrugged.
"She's blind!"
"My knees are healing and the Doctor was busy twitching because your mate tased him," he argued. "We were kind of out of options considering you kidnapped Mickey."
"Ricky, his name is Ricky," Rita said.
The Doctor pressed his fists to his forehead and laughed. "My head hurts. I don't know if it's the two knocks I've taken to it or the fact that everyone in this room is a bloody idiot – you excluded, of course, Mrs Smith – but my head hurts."
"Here, this might help," Mrs Moore said, setting a cup of tea in his hand from a tray she had balanced four cups and a plate of biscuits on. "No sugar, I'm afraid. Jake here forgot to pick some up when he was at the shops. After a good tasering, I'm always in need of a nice cup of tea."
"Get tased often, do you?" He asked, sipping the tea and breathing out a sigh of relief as the tannins slipped through him.
"I tase myself," she said. "Only way to check if the alterations I make to the taser are any good. I'd do it on one of the boys but they're not so eager to volunteer after I knocked Jake unconscious for three days. I really got the maths wrong there."
"Don't remind me," Jake frowned. "I think my teeth are still vibrating."
"Dammit," the Doctor said, dunking a custard cream in his tea. "I think I'm beginning to like you. How dare you?"
Mrs Moore laughed. "I'd say sorry but I'm not all that much."
"I bet you're not," he said, reluctantly delighted by her. "Since we're all on our way to becoming fast friends, who are you lot anyway? What's with the set up?"
Ricky guided Rita to a seat and made her comfortable, directing a portable heater at her legs and switching it on while she drank her tea. Only when he was certain she was taken care of did he straighten up and answer the Doctor's question.
"We're the Preachers, as in the gospel truth." The Doctor stared at him blankly. Ricky sighed and pointed at his ear. "You see? No ear plugs. While the rest of the world downloads from Cybus Industries, we've got freedom. You're talking to London's Most Wanted –"
Rita gasped and slapped his thigh. "You're what?"
"Ow, ow, sorry, gran, but it's the truth," Ricky said, exchanging a small, amused look with Jake who rolled his eyes and mouthed something that the Doctor thought, bewilderingly was parking tickets. "It's why I haven't been coming around like I should have. There are things that need doing and no one's doing them except us. We're trying to blow it wide open so the public knows that Cybus is up to something. People are going missing, huge trucks of people being taken to Battersea Power Station and then not coming out. We know it's to do with Cybus and our number one target is Lumic. We're going to bring him down and to justice."
Warmed up, fully dressed, and sat next to Jack on the sofa, their feet resting on the seat of his wheelchair, Mickey raised an eyebrow. "From your kitchen?"
Ricky's shoulders stiffened and he squared up, angry eyes slicing in his direction. "You got a problem with that?"
"No, no." He shook his head, hiding his smile behind his mug. "It's a nice kitchen. Very nice."
"I like what you've done with the sink," Jack complimented. "It's very sink-like."
Saving everyone from having to hear an argument, something beeped. Setting down her cup of tea, Mrs Moore turned to check on a flashing device in the corner, hunching over it and opening her laptop that was covered with stickers.
"It's an upload from Gemini," she said.
"Who's Gemini?" The Doctor asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Wait, no, I don't want to know. We're not here for any of that. We're just here for...sightseeing. That's right. Love those Zeppelins, you know?"
"The vans are back, they're moving out of Battersea," Mrs Moore said, ignoring him, which he thought was probably a good idea. A pleased smile crossed her face. "Looks like Gemini was right, Lumic's finally making his move."
"And we are right behind him," Ricky said, body bristling with energy as he began to issue instructions. "Pack up, we're leaving. Find out where they're heading first, Mrs Moore. Jake, get everything we need in the truck."
The Doctor set his tea down and gestured at Jack and Mickey to do the same. "Well, this sounds like you've got a busy night ahead of you. Good luck and all that. We'll just leave you to it though, yeah? Don't want to get in the way or anything. Since we're off, we'll take Mrs Smith back with us, make sure she gets home safe. Sound fair?"
"You think I'm letting you head off with my gran when you know all about us?" Ricky asked with a dry laugh. "Not a chance. You three know too much."
"That's something I've definitely been accused of before," he agreed. "But in this case, we're really just going to head home. This isn't of any interest to us, so don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
He mimed zipping his lips.
"I've traced the delivery address," Mrs Moore said, appearing at Ricky's side. "It's heading towards a mansion on the outskirts of the city. Belongs to the Vitex guy, Pete Tyler."
The Doctor's stomach sank, and Jack released a small, pained groan as he knuckled his eyes while Mickey dropped his head back against the sofa. Turning his eyes, he looked up at the Doctor and saw the dread settled on his features, hand finding Jack's and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles anxiously, knowing what they had to do.
The Preachers' van was a cosy fit at the best of times but with five fully grown adults in the back, along with Jack's wheelchair that was fixed to the side – Rita wisely choosing to ride up front with Mrs Moore even though she didn't fully understand what was happening – it was a cramped space. The Doctor kept tumbling into Mickey every time Mrs Moore took a violent, screeching turn of a corner, hindering his efforts to get in touch with either Rose or Zoe by phone.
Acutely aware that Rose might choose to screen his calls, he had Mickey and Jack do the same but worry rolled through him like an avalanche since Zoe always had her phone on her and had yet to ignore a message or call from him, so he hoped that they were okay. While he had full and unwavering faith in their abilities to look after themselves, he didn't like the situation at hand. Not one bit. All he wanted right then was Rose and Zoe back with them so that they could head back to the TARDIS and ignore the problems of the world around them as they played Scrabble or Monopoly or finally start that 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle he had unearthed from a forgotten room some weeks ago.
"What's this thing with Lumic?" Jack asked, distracting himself from his worry over the girls as his calls and messages went unanswered. "Is he dangerous?"
"How do you not know about Lumic?" Ricky asked, ramrod straight in his seat, holding onto a cloth handhold as he swayed from side to side. "Everyone knows him. You've been living under a rock or something?"
"Or something," he said. "He's a criminal?"
"Biggest of them all, just better at getting away with it than most," Mrs Moore said over her shoulder, baring her teeth as she spun onto the motorway, one arm stretched out across Rita to keep her in place. "He's been using the customers of his technological products as experiments. The three of us, we're all that's left of what used to be a huge network of Preachers all over Britain. One by one Lumic and his goons have picked us off because we know the truth."
The Doctor looked up from his phone, volume at maximum in case Zoe called. "And what truth is that?"
"Jake," she said, eyes on the road.
Reaching into a black bag at his feet, Jake removed a video camera and tapped at the screen, accessing the recording he had made earlier that day. He shifted around, using Ricky's knee to support himself as he showed it to them. The Doctor, Jack, and Mickey watched as homeless men and women got into the back of a large transport lorry, the promise of a hot meal and an honest day's work the lure used to get them to walk willingly inside. The camera started to shake, the image growing distorted, when the screams started, and the Doctor took it from Jake's hands and rewound it to watch it again, a frown on his face.
"Lumic's been promising people work and then killing them," Jake told them. "A lot of these trucks go back to the factories at Battersea, from London anyway. Lumic also owns the NEC in Birmingham, and all the old mines as well. Down in Cornwall, we lost touch with our group down there after they went down a mine. The last images we saw was of this – I don't know what to call it – but it was like they'd changed everything, put in lots of tech. It looked like chamber out of science fiction films, to be honest."
"We had someone on the inside," Ricky said. "Nomi. We joined the Preachers together way back when, and she was already working for Cybus so she was in the best position to get us information. Someone found out there and killed her for it. But Lumic's doing something to them in those chamber things. He's taking people apart and then putting them back together but in metal."
A cold trickle of fear ran down the Doctor's back.
Metal men.
"He's building an army," Ricky continued, leaning forward as the van sped up the private road towards Pete Tyler's mansion. "We don't know why or how but he's killing a whole bunch of people to do it. Course everyone thinks we're crazy. Mrs Moore spent four months in a psychiatric ward. Only thing that saved her was the fact she creates excellent fake documents. If they'd know it was her, she'd have been killed too."
"If people are being scooped up off the street like this," Jack said. "And buildings and mines are being turned into metal whatever, how come no one but you lot is doing anything to stop this? What about the government? The police?"
"Lumic's the most powerful man in Britain and most of Europe," Jake said. "His reach is everywhere. There isn't a politician around who wasn't elected without his financial backing. Everything you see today, it's got his fingerprint on it."
"And the police aren't much cope either," Ricky scoffed. "Mrs Moore went to the police with what she knew and she's been on the run ever since. How long is it now, Mrs M?"
"Three years now," Mrs Moore replied, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "Moving from safe house to safe house, hoping that I'm one step ahead of Lumic's men."
"I know what Lumic's doing," the Doctor said, drawing the attention to him. "It's what every genius does at a certain point. A repeating causality. The same story again and again throughout history. Doesn't matter the planet or the civilisation. The same mistake is made time and time again."
"What?" Jack asked. "What's he doing?"
"You never met them, not the advanced version, you've only met the original," he said, shaking his head slowly, mouth slick with fear because Rose and Zoe were in the middle of the chaos and he wasn't there to help them. "The ones on Mondas were the original version. You never saw them when they were more machine than man."
Mickey sat up, a sharp edge of fear in his eyes. "You don't mean –"
"Cybermen," the Doctor said, darkly. "Lumic's created the Cybermen."
"What?" Ricky asked, face twisting into a scowl. "What are Cybermen?"
"Wait, no, those Cybermen were in our universe," Mickey argued. "An' on a planet you said was destroyed. How can they be here?"
"Your universe?" Jake asked, confused. "Planet? What the hell are you talking about?"
"They're not like the Daleks. Cybermen can originate anywhere and everywhere that there's sufficient technological development," the Doctor explained at a rapid clip, fingers typing out a warning to Zoe. Get out of there. Go home. Stay safe. I love you. "Because there's always some idiot with too much money and too large a fear of death who wants to try and extend their life and the next thing you know there are Cybermen in the universe. Like the proverbial bad, murderous penny."
"So the girls are in trouble then," Jack said, fingers itching for a weapon.
"Aren't they always?"
Mrs Moore, having kept one ear on the strange conversation taking place behind her, called out a warning in the moments before she used the van as a battering ram to slam through the gates of the Tyler mansion. Rita screamed, hands braced against the dashboard, her inability to see what was happening amplifying her fear until all she was able to hear was her heart hammering in her chest, blood rushing through her ears.
The van tilted as it swerved to avoid the party guests that fled from the echoing crash of cyber weapons that filled the air. In the back, the motley crew of men shifted and grabbed hold of anything that might keep them in place as Mrs Moore changed gear and hurtled across the lawn, performing a sharp turn and throwing the handbrake on. Dizzy from the ride, the Doctor didn't wait for the van to stop completely before he threw open the door and leapt out into the night. The bitterly cold air slapped him in the face and made his throat ache as he opened his mouth and yelled for Rose and Zoe, eyes scanning the terrified cried, desperately trying to catch sight of the girls.
Blue light lit up the broken windows of the mansion, and the Doctor yelled at Jack to stay in the van and for Mickey to keep an eye out before he was sprinting across the lawn, fighting against the tide of people when, suddenly, out of the chaos, Rose appeared. Dressed in a French maid's uniform, the oddity refusing to register, she clambered out of the window and dragged trapped party guests out after her.
"Rose!"
Her head whipped around. "Doctor!"
An explosion forced her to duck, arms going over her head to protect herself, and then he was there, dragging her into his arms and away from the room that was on fire.
"Where's Zoe?" The Doctor demanded. "Rose, where's Zoe?"
"They took her," she gasped against his neck, trembling violently. "Lumic's men, they took her."
The Doctor swore, anxiety ratcheting up. Taking Rose's hand in his, he pulled her across the lawn, trusting her to keep up with him. He wasn't surprised Zoe had been taken. She had the unerring ability to find herself in the worst situation possible when what he wanted was for her to stay safe. If he thought she would let him, he was tempted to lock her up in the library so that no harm ever befell her. Unfortunately for him, he had fallen in love with someone just as mad as he was.
"Get behind me," Ricky ordered when he emerged from the late night fog that rolled across the lawn like silver dust suspended in the air, raising his automatic weapon. "Hurry!"
The Doctor tightened his grip on Rose's hand and launched her in front of him, her toes skimming the ground, and Mickey was there, catching her, curving his body over hers as the bullets started flying. Slipping on the sodden, churned up lawn, the Doctor hit the ground and skidded the rest of the way, hands over his ears as the smell of wet mud invaded his senses.
Bullets ricocheted off the Cybermen's metal armour. The cacophony loud and unbearable, though it drowned out the screams of those lucky enough to escape the party as they fled into the woods that surrounded the mansion. It went on and on and on until Ricky and Jake ran out of ammo and were forced to cease their fire, the Cybermen halting six feet from them. The sudden silence made the Doctor's ears ring. Lowering his hands, he got to his feet and made his way forward, Rose's wide, fearful eyes following him, the absence of Zoe a gaping wound that he tried to ignore.
"Why aren't they attacking?" The Doctor asked. "They should be coming for us."
"Don't complain, you idiot," Ricky snapped, catching fresh ammo that Jack tossed from the back of the van. "Everybody in the van. Now."
Rose froze at the sight of Ricky. "What the hell? Who the hell is that?"
"Alternate me, long story," Mickey said. "But look, my gran's here."
"Oh, hello, Mrs Smith, nice to see you again," she said, dazed.
"What's happening?" Rita cried. "Ricky, why do you have guns? Who are these people?"
Rose blinked. "Ricky?"
"Don't start," Mickey said, holding her close. "Go on, get in with Jack. Hurry now."
"Hey!" Jake spun, gun pointed into the darkness. "Don't move!"
"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" Stepping into the light, Pete Tyler appeared, blood trickling down his neck from a wound on the back of his head, tuxedo dirty and torn. "I'm Pete Tyler. Don't shoot!"
"Get in the van," the Doctor ordered, and Pete trembled with relief, hurrying to safety. "We're surrounded. They've got us covered from every direction, so nobody do anything stupid. Let's just –"
He clapped his hands over his ears as Ricky and Jake started shooting again. Lunging forwards, the bottom of his shoe slipped in the mud track that Mrs Moore had created with her driving and forced the barrels of the gun towards the ground, furious.
"What did I just say?" He snapped, reaching into his pocket and palming the small power cell that was happily recharging, oblivious to the danger around them. "Everyone, hands up, quickly. That's all of you. Hands. Up." Slowly and reluctantly, the Preachers obeyed while Jack dangled himself out of the back of the van, hands in the air with the added flourish of a white handkerchief on the end of his finger. "We surrender! There's no need to damage us. We're good stock. We volunteer for the upgrade program. Take us to be processed."
The Cyberman turned its square, bulky body towards him. "You are rogue elements."
"Been called that once or twice," the Doctor said, catching his breath. "But we surrender nonetheless."
"You are incompatible," it said.
He frowned. "But this is a surrender."
"You will be deleted."
"But we're surrendering," he exclaimed, frustrated. "Listen to me, we surrender!"
"You are inferior," the Cyberman said with its usual insulting indifference. "Man will be reborn as Cyberman but you will perish under maximum deletion."
Metal arms rose and pointed at them, a chorus of synthetic voices crying out at once, "delete – delete – delete!"
Twisting the power cell in his palm, the Doctor flung his hand out and pointed it at them. The energy of the TARDIS combined with the strength of his regenerative energy slammed out. A shock waved ripped out from his hand, a bright green light swallowing the Cybermen whole, vaporising into nothingness. Shielding his eyes with his free arm, he considered the draining of the power cell a small price to pay for letting them survive the next five minutes. Cool to the touch instead of warm, once the light faded he spared it a quick glance to reassure himself there was still a spark of energy left inside, enough to start the cycle again. He turned his head, shielding his eyes, as the Cybermen around them were vaporised before their eyes.
"Doctor, get in," Jack called out to him. "Mrs Moore, drive!"
Leaping into the back of the van, the Doctor fell across Rose who immediately sank her fingers into his coat and held out as his legs dangled out of the van, scrambling to get them in. As soon as his body parts were inside the van, Mickey slammed the door shut.
"Never seen a slower getaway in my life," Mrs Moore complained, foot pressed against the accelerator, sending them smashing through the side gate and out onto the darkened road. "Honestly."
Breathing heavily, the Doctor rose to his knees and found himself face to face with Rose. Her mascara was smudged around the edges and her hair dishevelled, though she appeared otherwise unharmed. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was well when she threw herself at him, arms around his shoulder, winding herself around his body like an octopus, the warm press of Jack and Mickey against his sides letting him know that she had dragged them into the hug as well. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy having his friends with him, secure in the knowledge that they were safe. It helped keep his worry for Zoe at a distance for a second longer before Rose pulled back, tears clinging to her lashes like small diamonds.
"They took her," she said, agony running through her words. "That Lumic guy was on the phone an' – an' she was doin' what she normally does an' he didn't know why she knew about the Cybermen so he ordered them to take her. They dragged her out of the house with the president. She told me to run." Her face collapsed. "I should've helped her but I didn't know what to do."
"It's okay," the Doctor said, using the end of his sleeve to clean her face, wiping the smear mascara away and drawing her head down so as to press a kiss to her forehead. Even though anger built itself a palace inside of him, laying it down brick by brick, everything had become extremely simple. Lumic had Zoe. Nothing else mattered. "We'll get her back. I promise, we'll get her back."
"That's if she doesn't save herself first," Jack said, a small wince running across his face as he sat back. "If she's been taken to see Lumic though, would that be the factories or does he have another base? Mrs Moore, are you listening?"
"Hard not to with the racket going on back there," she said. "He has an office at Battersea but he's also got his Zeppelin. Rich fools like him don't like to slum it down here with us locals."
"Wait," Ricky said, leaning forward. "You want to get your girl back, I get it, but you can't just go strolling into the factories or onto the Zeppelin. Lumic's not stupid. He has around the clock security that he brings in from Israel. They're the best of the best. You get within a mile of that place, he's going to know about it."
"Good, I want him to know I'm coming," the Doctor said, the threat making the air shiver. "He's taken someone very important to me and I want him to have that fear before I deal with him."
"Then you're an idiot," Pete said, speaking for the first time, a fine tremble running through his hands. "Lumic's not your run-of-the-mill businessman. He's built Cybus up over the years, methodically and carefully. The only thing he's afraid of is death. Nothing else matters to him. If you want to get your girl back, going in through the front door is the worst idea. He'll kill her before you make it ten steps inside."
"Don't listen to him," Ricky said with a sharp bite of viciousness. "He works for Lumic. He's one of them. He'll lead you into a trap just like he did everyone else."
Pete sat up, offended. "I am not!"
"You just had a party with all the movers and shakers and hoity-toity assholes in Britain," Jake accused. "Now most of them are dead. Nice little trap you laid that's wiped out the government and left your boss Lumic in charge."
"If I was part of all that," Pete argued, skin flushing with exasperation. "Do you really think I'd leave my wife inside?"
Ricky shrugged, hand coming to rest on his handgun. "Maybe your plan went wrong. Still gives us the right to execute you though."
Mickey and Jack turned on him in unison. "Whoa!"
"What the fuck?" Mickey demanded.
"Put that gun away before I take it from you," Jack threatened. "No one is executing anyone, not while we're here. This isn't the Dark Ages."
"Ricky Smith, stop threatening to kill people," Rita snapped from the front, colour spreading through Ricky's cheeks at the public chastisement. "I know I raised you better than that, boy."
Pete looked towards the front, an expression of incredulity settling on his face. "You brought your mum with you? What's wrong with you?"
"She's my grandmother, asshole," Rick shot back. "And we've got evidence that says Pete Tyler's been working for Lumic since 2005. He sold his company to Cybus Industries and made himself a very wealthy man. One of the wealthiest in Britain after your mate Lumic, right? Money makes people do stupid things, makes them turn a blind eye to what's really going on." He turned a disgusted expression onto Pete. "Bet you don't really care about all them homeless and degenerates being chopped up into parts at the factories, do you? As long as it doesn't affect you and yours."
Pete bared his teeth, furious. "You've got no idea what you're talking about."
"Tell them, Mrs M," Jake said, his hand also resting on his gun in a manner that made Rose shift closer to Jack, his arm going around her shoulders.
"We've got a government mole who feeds us information from Lumic's private files," Mrs Moore said as she deftly navigated the chaos of the roads. "His South American operations, the shipping coming out of Taiwan every two weeks, the mining operations in the DRC, the lot. Secret broadcasts twice a week that have shown us that Pete Tyler has been working with Lumic at the very top."
"Jesus Christ." Pete exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, realisation setting in. "Broadcasts from Gemini?"
Ricky frowned. "How do you know that?"
"I'm Gemini," he said, exhausted. "That's me."
"Yeah, well you would say that."
"Use your brain, for cryin' out loud," Rose snapped, her worry for Zoe making her sharp and irritable. "How would he know about Gemini if he wasn't Gemini?"
"Encrypted wavelength six-five-seven using binary nine," Pete rattled off. "That's the only reason I was working for Lumic. I wanted to get information and feed it to the security services because, despite what you assholes think, I don't actually want people to be ripped to pieces. Even if it wasn't absolutely awful, who'd I sell my products to if the entire consumer base is gone?" He leaned back and banged his head against the wall of the van. "I thought I was broadcasting to the MI5 or MI6 but instead I'm sending out biweekly messages to Scooby Doo and his bloody gang. Look, you've even got the stupid van."
He rapped his knuckles against the side of it, Ricky and Jake bristling with offence.
"Enough," the Doctor said sharply, silence falling on the back of the van. "I don't care about any of this. All I care about is finding a way to rescue my girlfriend from someone who, by all accounts, is a crazy megalomaniac. I'm extremely unhappy that she's been taken and an unhappy Doctor is not a pleasant Doctor, so let's stow this bickering and come together to think of a plan to save her."
"They took my wife too," Pete said, shoulders slumping, head dropping into his hands. "The last thing we said to each other...we were arguing. That can't be the last time we ever speak, it just can't be."
Rose shifted, uncomfortable at the parallels, refusing to believe that those horrible words about Reinette would be the last thing of import she said to her sister. Roused from her worry, she reached out and touched Pete's arm.
"She might still be alive," she said.
"That's even worse," he replied, pained. "Because that's what Lumic does. He takes the living and he turns them into those machines." He shook his head, throat thick with emotion. "Do you think there's anyway to save the people who have been...changed?"
Sympathy softened the Doctor's face as he looked over at him. "I'm sorry, but no. Once someone's been converted, there's no coming back from that. There are some who tried in our universe but they always failed. The people, they couldn't recover from what was done to them."
Pete stared at him, and Mrs Moore's eyes looked into the rearview mirror, curiosity evident on her face. "Youruniverse?"
"Ah, yes." The Doctor paused, deciding that it didn't matter whether they knew the truth or not – or believed them or not –, and leaned into it. "We're from another universe. Bit of a long story, best not get into it right now. What you should do, Pete Tyler, is take those ear pods off. Lumic could be listening." Pete quickly removed them, and the Doctor zapped them with the screwdriver, rendering them useless. "One good thing about all of this is that Lumic's made a fatal mistake, one everyone like him makes."
"What's that then?" Ricky asked.
"He didn't count on me."
