Lucas Wahl was daydreaming. He had a tendency to do that quite a bit. In reality, he may have been pouring himself a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen of the Medical Examiner's Office, but in his mind he was writing his next short film. That was his true passion, you see: Making horror films. And while, yes, he'd had to take a day job to pay the bills, fortunately it was one that went hand in hand with his passion. Not only did working as an assistant to a Medical Examiner mean that he had ample inspiration for gruesome and grisly murders, as well as the medical knowledge to make them seem realistic, but it also gave him access to some great facilities, which he had occasionally availed himself to. All tastefully done and in the name of art, of course.
Suddenly, Lucas was brought back to reality by his boss' voice. "Lucas?"
Startled, he spilled coffee all over the sink and frantically searched for something to wipe it up with.
"Lucas?"
He grabbed a tea-towel and began dabbing at the puddle of coffee, decided that it was good enough for now and then rushed out of the staff room, leaving his half-empty coffee cup behind.
He nearly skidded as he came round the corner to see Dr. Morgan standing there, looking around the place.
"Ah, Lucas, there you are."
"Uh, yep, good morning, Dr. Morgan," he said in his usual upbeat and chipper manner, "you're in early today. Felt like a nice, morning stroll, did we? Good cardio's the key to staying in shape," he said, making a rowing motion with his hands.
Henry looked up at him the way he often did, exasperated but with a degree of fondness. Lucas could be a buffoon sometimes - no, Lucas was a buffoon all of the time – but he was a good lad.
"No such luck, I'm afraid. I was called to the scene of a murder, the body should have arrived by now – a John Doe."
"Ah, yes," said Lucas, grabbing a chart. "He arrived just a little while ago." He handed the chart to Henry. "What've we got this time? Shot? Stabbed? Poisoned? Impaled on a giant spike? Run over by a steamroller?"
Henry looked up from the chart, giving him that look again.
"I'll go prep the body for autopsy," Lucas said, pointing down the corridor, before heading in the same direction.
Jo Martinez looked confused when she re-entered the interrogation room.
"Detective Martinez," said The Doctor, "how nice to see you again. Did you contact my friends at U.N.I.T?"
"Yes, actually," she said, sounding unsure.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense, are you lettin' us go or not?" said Lucie, impatiently.
Jo reverted to professional mode and fixed them both with a piercing stare. "I've been ordered to release you both and allow you to investigate in whatever manner you see fit." She spoke as if the words tasted like bile in her mouth. "Furthermore," she sighed, "the NYPD is to offer our full co-operation and afford you every available resource or stay out of your way, whichever you deem to be most appropriate." From her tone of voice, it was obvious that she was quoting somebody.
"Excellent!" said the Doctor as he sprang to his feet. His handcuffs clanked as they fell to the table, open.
Jo's eyes bulged, "How did you...?"
"I learned a thing or two from an old friend of mine, Harry Houdini."
"You mean we could have escaped at any time over the last few hours?" asked Lucie, disbelief and shock filling her voice.
"Well, yes, but that would have been rude," he responded, smiling at Jo who was still looking at him in disbelief.
Henry entered the Autopsy Room wearing his white lab-coat pulled on a pair of blue, latex gloves. Lucas was already waiting by the table, wearing his usual scrubs and transparent apron, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
"So, bit of a weird one today, eh Doc'?"
"Yes," said Henry, "you could say that."
"So, what are you thinking, Star Wars or Star Trek?"
Henry fixed him with a confused look. "Excuse me?"
"The ray gun," Lucas clarified, "do you think it was more of a phaser or a blaster?"
Henry wasn't sure which would be worse, whether Lucas was mocking him or whether he was being deadly serious. Either way, he thought it best not to encourage him and so simply told him to ready the surgical tools.
Henry was just about to pull a black apron over his clothes when he heard Jo's voice.
"Henry, hold up for a sec."
"Ah, Detective, what brings you down here? Don't you have suspects to interrogate?" He looked up and saw that she was not alone. She was accompanied by a young girl and a most peculiar man, dressed in clothes that even he knew were too far out of fashion for this day and age. The eccentric Englishman, then.
"Henry, I'd like you to meet Dr. John Smith. He'll be assisting with your autopsy today." Jo lowered her eyes, a sign of shame or embarrassment, Henry noted. Her stance suggested that she was feeling defensive – it wasn't her choice to bring her suspects down here, then. That meant that she was under orders from her superiors. For a murder suspect to be allowed to take part in an autopsy - of the man whom he was accused of killing, no less – he must have some serious clout. Political, financial or otherwise.
Henry tilted his head and offered a tight smile. "With all due respect, Detective Martinez..."
"The Commissioner is insisting on it," said Jo.
Henry raised both eyebrows in surprise. "The Commissioner?"
"Apparently so," said Jo without any humour or enthusiasm.
Henry conceded by nodding his head. He looked at the strangely dressed man and held out his hand. "Dr Henry Morgan, pleased to meet you Dr. Smith."
The Doctor took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Morgan. You can just call me The Doctor."
"That could get a little confusing around here," said Henry.
"I'm sure we'll manage."
They ended the handshake and Henry said, "I rather admire your attire, Doctor, very fetching. I'm something of an old-fashioned sort myself. And I must say that it's refreshing to be in the company of a well-dressed individual."
Lucas' head shot up. "Hey, I wore a cravat that one time, remember?"
"Why, thank-you," said The Doctor, ignoring Lucas. I couldn't help but admire your pocket-watch myself; very nice indeed. It must be well over three-hundred years old."
"Yes, a family heirloom," said Henry before covering the watch with his apron. "I see that you have a rather nice timepiece yourself."
"This old thing?" he said, flipping open his own watch. "It does the job, but it pales in comparison to your exquisite work of art."
Lucie rubbed a hand down her face. "Blimey, I think I'm going to be sick. I never would have thought you'd find true love in a morgue, Doctor."
"Yeah, Henry, maybe if you two are finished, you could get this thing started?" said Jo.
Henry nodded apologetically toward Jo before turning to Lucas. "Sorry Lucas, but it looks like I won't be needing you right now, perhaps you could keep Detective Martinez and The Doctor's friend company."
"If it's all the same to you, Henry, I'd like to keep an eye on The Doctor, here. But you can look after Miss Miller for me, Lucas."
Lucas looked at Lucie and nearly knocked over a tray of instruments, but managed to catch them just in time. "Ah-Ah-Ah, yeah, sure," he said, placing the tray and its contents back on the table and awkwardly crossing his arms. "Yeah, we can hang out or chill or whatever, you know?"
Lucie smiled, despite herself. He was cute in that adorkable kind of way.
"I'm Lucas, Lucas Wahl – Dr. Morgan's medical assistant."
"Hi Lucas, I'm Lucie Miller – The Doctor's time-travel assistant."
Lucas laughed and then said, "Excuse me?"
Lucie just smiled as she turned and headed out of the autopsy room, while Lucas ran to catch up with her.
Henry sighed - poor Lucas. "So, Doctor, have you ever performed an autopsy before?" He unrolled a leather tool kit which held all manner of instruments.
"Well," The Doctor said, drawing the word out as he slipped his coat off, "I've dabbled here and there." He folded his coat neatly and hung it over an empty gurney, before rolling up his shirtsleeves and stuffing his cuff-links in his trouser pockets.
"That raises an interesting question," said Jo. "What kind of doctor are you, anyway?"
Henry gave an inquisitive look, clearly also keen to hear the answer.
The Doctor paused for a moment, in the middle of washing his hands, before responding. "I'm a doctor of many things," he said as he dried his hands and grabbed a pair of latex gloves. "Like I said, I dabble."
"A real renaissance man, huh?" asked Jo, with an eyebrow raised.
"As it happens, I have spent a bit of time in the Renaissance," he said as he pulled an apron over his waistcoat. "My good friend Leonardo lives there."
Jo and Henry exchanged looks. She couldn't believe it, but for once Henry wasn't the weirdest one in the room.
The Doctor smiled at Henry, blissfully ignorant or perhaps uncaring of what they were currently thinking of him. "Well, after you, Doctor."
"So, do you like comic-books? I love them. Well, not comic-books," he said quickly, "graphic-novels, you know? They're a lot more artistic and...mature..."
Lucas was leaning against the counter in the break room, trying desperately to look cool. He wasn't one hundred per-cent sure, but he had a terrible feeling that it wasn't working.
"Oh, yeah, right," said Lucie before sipping some coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
"Do you...read...comics, by any chance?" He was a mass of hand gestures and awkward poses – Lucie was certain that if she were to nail his hands down, he'd be rendered mute.
"Oh, well, I did like that superhero one - what was it? Watchmen? Yeah, that was pretty cool."
Lucas' face suddenly lit up. Common ground! He wasn't a loser!
"Yes," he said, throwing a hand towards her, like a magician choosing a volunteer from the audience. "Yes, Watchmen, a timeless classic by one of your countrymen; a great master of the art: Mr. Alan Moore."
"I think they made a movie of it, didn't they?" she said.
Lucas nodded a little too intently. "They certainly did. What-what did you think of it? I personally prefer the film's ending – controversial stance, I know." He held his hands up and took a step back.
"I haven't actually seen it. Gosh, I haven't been to the movies since...for a while."
"Yeah," said Lucas, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, "mainstream cinema has been going through a bit of a rough patch lately. I tend to steer clear of it myself. I actually make my own films," he said quickly, as if he'd just remembered the fact.
"For real?" she said, sounding genuinely impressed. "That's pretty flippin' cool."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, standing a little taller. "It's my passion, you know. I want to become a real master of the art and this, this," he said pointing all around him, "this is just to pay the bills. Because, you know, art shouldn't become a job. I don't want to do it for the money." He shrugged, trying to be simultaneously impressive but humble.
Lucie smiled. She couldn't believe it, but she actually didn't mind that he was really awkwardly trying to chat her up. And doing a rubbish job of it too.
"What about you?" asked Lucas, confidence now clipping his words. "Do you have any hobbies?"
Lucie thought for a moment. She wasn't sure that travelling in time and space counted as a hobby.
"Oh, I travel," she said.
"Unbelievable," said Henry.
"What?" asked Jo, looking over Henry's shoulder. "Oh, God!"
"It's exactly as I suspected. The kidneys, liver, spleen; most of the internal organs have been turned to mush. And take a look at this, these blood vessels, it looks as if the blood has been...evaporated."
Jo was a homicide detective and she'd sat in on plenty of autopsies before, so she had a cast-iron stomach. But even so, she found herself having to look away from the mushy mess that Henry was currently sifting through.
"Yes," said The Doctor, "energy weapons may seem relatively painless, but I can assure you that they are a rather nasty way to go."
Jo looked at Henry with wide, imploring eyes. "So, you really do believe that this guy was killed by some sort of...of..."
"Energy weapon?" offered The Doctor.
Jo held her hand towards The Doctor and gave Henry a thin, tight-lipped smile.
"Well, that would certainly explain these injuries, yes," said Henry reluctantly.
Jo ran a hand through her hair. "OK, so if we're talking about some sort of prototype weapon, that means military." She whipped out her phone. "I'm going to make some calls."
"I assure you that you'll be wasting your time, Detective," said The Doctor.
Jo looked at him, midway through dialling a number. "Oh and why's that?"
"Because whatever killed this man wasn't from Earth. It's still a good century or two off from humans having this kind of technology, even at a rudimentary level."
Jo shook her head, "Please don't tell me that you're talking about aliens."
"And what if I am?"
Jo looked from The Doctor to Henry and back again. "Ok, field trip's over – you and Miss Miller are going back to the interview room."
"Detective, I know that this is all a lot for you take in, but I need you to suspend your disbelief. Lives may depend on it. You know that I work with U.N.I.T and I can be trusted, you can see that something bizarre is going on. You've already started down this path, why not follow me further down the rabbit hole and see where we come out?"
Jo's face cast a range of emotions all in conflict with one another. She took a few steps closer to Henry. He was a bastion of logic and reason; a man capable of seeing what nobody else could see. She trusted him above all others.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Henry as he peered at The Doctor. He certainly wasn't giving any indicators that he was lying. Of course, that didn't matter if he was crazy. There was something odd about him though, something that he couldn't put his finger on, something...uncanny. It was like those horrid computer graphics that they seemed to always use in motion pictures nowadays. Abe found the technology to be amazing, but Henry had always despised it, especially when it came to computer-generated people. Because, when it came down to it, no matter how good the software, there was a certain spark to human life that just couldn't be captured by a series of ones and zeroes.
Henry had the same feeling when he looked at this Doctor fellow. Over the course of his long life, Henry had seen so many faces. He'd seen features slowly change over the centuries as races began to mix more and more and humanity continued to develop in almost invisible ways. He'd seen humanity don an almost infinite number of guises and yet when he looked at The Doctor, something just didn't feel right. The features looked human enough, but that spark felt just as absent in him as it did in those computer models.
"I think that The Doctor is all we've really got to go with right now," he said after a long silence. "It can't hurt to, as you say Doctor, continue down the rabbit hole."
The Doctor smiled, he liked this Dr. Morgan. He had a feeling there was something special about him.
"Alright, what now, then?" asked Jo, still clearly unconvinced.
"Now, Detective, I think it would be a good idea to return to the crime-scene. Care to join us Dr. Morgan?"
