Hopefully, you'll be excited and aggravated by this chapter... I hope it leaves you gasping! Enjoy!


ELEVEN

Stephanie had just announced a decision that flummoxed everyone in the car.

"Okay, here's the plan," she had said. "We're going to find Daniel Edge, and then we're going to trade me for Curtis. This all started because you lot are all trying to protect me. Me. One person, versus millions. I'll sleep with the bastard, for God's sake. Let's just find him!"

"No!" Martha cried out.

"No!" Tim cried out.

The Doctor noted Tim's semi-panicked reaction to this revelation, then sighed deeply, and sat back in his seat. He watched the city pass outside the windows.

"Look, it's my body, it's my life. I've made my choice. We trade – you get Curtis, Daniel gets me. Let's get more efficient about finding him."

"You sleeping with Edge won't solve Curtis' problem," the Doctor pointed out, very weary of the whole discussion. "Except for getting Edge off his back."

"Whatever. I'm doing my part," Stephanie said, resolved. "I'm heading back to your place, Tim. We'll regroup. I'll try to get in touch with some people who maybe get in touch with people who could get in touch with people could track him down, so we can make the trade. I'll call my flatmate in London…"

"Make the trade?" Martha asked. "What are you, a briefcase full of money?"

"No, no," Stephanie said, lightly, sarcastically. "Daniel's already got oodles of those. He couldn't care less about those."

They arrived back at the estate within a few minutes, no one having said another word. Stephanie was the driver, and she was determined, and frankly, no one had any alternatives that were actually better.

"Wait, what's that?" Martha asked.

"What's what?" Tim wondered.

"Up there…"

"Oh, shit! Stephanie, stop!" the Doctor spat.

She slammed on the breaks, and the Doctor nearly fell out of the car trying to get outside to investigate.

They all piled out of the car, and looked up to the roof where the Doctor's gaze had gone.

Against a backdrop of moonlight, they could now see three men on the roof of the fifteen-story estate building. Two were standing – one of the two was swigging from a bottle. The third man was sitting in a chair, dangerously close to the ledge. They could just about make out his red hoodie in the dimness.

"Oh my God," Tim breathed, now more panicked than ever. He was possibly now more panicked than he had ever been in his whole live. "Oh my God, oh my God! Cur…"

The Doctor managed to stumble round the vehicle and get his arm round Tim's head and mouth before he could shout his brother's name. A rational Tim would have realised that it was a stupid thing to do, under the circumstances, but this was hardly a rational Tim.

"Shush!" the Doctor scolded. "If we want the element of surprise, we can't let them know we're here. And we can't spook Curtis and cause him to jolt and fall."

Tim was now sobbing, but nodding in agreement.

The Doctor let go of him, and Tim turned to the nearest person, which was Stephanie, and completely broke down on her shoulder. Stephanie hugged him, but looked up at the roof, as tears streamed down her own face.

"We need a plan," Martha said.

"We need to get up there," the Doctor said. "We need to know what they're saying to him, how unhinged Edge is, and/or how drunk, how violent, et cetera, et cetera…"

"And we need to know how Curtis is holding up," Martha said, now simply walking briskly toward the building. The Doctor began to follow, as did Stephanie and Tim. "Not to mention how far along that drawing is."

The lift arrived and the four of them got inside.

"Tim," the Doctor said. "I don't suppose there's any way you'd go back to your flat and keep yourself safe?"

"No fucking way," muttered the red-eyed man.

"Fine. In that case, give Stephanie the key to your flat." He pressed the button that would take the lift to Tim and Curtis' floor.

"No! I'm coming up there with you!" Stephanie shrieked. "This all started because of me!"

"No, it didn't. None of this is because of anything you did. None of this is your responsibility," the Doctor said. "Besides, I don't want Edge having any ghost of an inkling that you're here in Leeds. He can't know you're working against him! And he can't think that you're within convenient reach."

"I'll keep out of sight!" she begged.

"The most vulnerable person in this weird little drama is currently sitting on the edge of the roof in a chair wielded by a drunk, power-hungry, six-foot toddler, Stephanie. You said yourself, he likes to party, he makes a show of everything, and has zero accountability," the Doctor said, at about a million words per minute. "Curtis is already in Edge's clutches – we have to save him, and we have to do it very, very carefully. The second most vulnerable person is you. You are the one he wants. You are the one who will suffer if any one of us cocks this up. At the very least, let's get you out of direct kidnapping range!"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and frowned like a child. The lift door opened and Tim held out his flat key to her. She took it without a word, and walked off the lift without looking back.

Martha pressed the button for the roof, and they all looked at each other ominously as the little cabin rose.

"Was that wrong?" the Doctor asked her.

"No," she responded. "We don't want her sacrificing herself for Curtis, any more than we want Curtis sacrificing himself for her."

Just in time, the Doctor thought to aim the sonic screwdriver at the little arrow-shaped light inside the lift doors, to prevent the "ping" sound from giving them away. The doors opened silently on the roof, and the three of them stepped out carefully.

They were behind a large air conditioning unit, and could not be seen by Edge or his flunkies, or Curtis. They listened.

Edge was drunkenly saying, "I mean… like, it wouldn't be weird at all. The retarded kid with the fucking bizarre ability throws himself off a roof 'cause he can't take it. Yeah, like it wouldn't be weird at all." Then he cackled with inebriated laughter.

"I'm not retarded," Curtis said, actually rather calmly.

"Well, you ain't gonna be thinking right at all, if you don't…" Edge said, his voice ramping up. As he continued, he finished the phrase, screaming. "…do what you're fucking told, you fucking freak!"

"I found it," a more reasonable voice said.

"You peasant!" Edge continued to shout at Curtis.

"Mr. Edge?" said the voice.

"You freak! Retard!"

"Daniel, shut the hell up!" the voice commanded. "Jesus Christ, do you want to wake up the building?"

"I'll just buy the goddamn building," Edge answered. "If it's not infested with rats."

"Whatever. Look, you wanted me to find the fucking drawing, and here's the fucking drawing!"

The Doctor peered around the corner and saw Edge rip the paper out of his sidekick's hand, and ask, "Oh. Where wuzzizit?"

"In his pocket. What does it matter?"

"It matters because… because…" Edge began haughtily. "Actually, I don't know. I just wanted to know, you know?"

"Yeah, well, as you can see, the faces are not there."

"Why the fuck not?" Edge asked.

There was silence.

"Hey, retard! I said, why the fuck didn't you finish my drawing?" Edge yelled.

"I…" they heard Curtis begin. "I…"

"I… I…" Edge mocked. "What, you forgot how to talk the King's English, too?"

"There is no king," Curtis said.

"Who the fuck cares? Finish my drawing!"

"I can't."

"You will, or you'll die, and so will Stephanie, do you hear me?"

"I can't finish the drawing. It would be rape," Curtis said, shakily.

"Ugh, shit, you're stupid," Edge groaned. "It's not rape if it's consensual or something. That's what the law says."

"He just put 'consensual' in air quotes," the Doctor whispered. "That's charming."

"It can't be consensual," Curtis retorted, again, shakily.

"It can if you make it consensual!" Daniel said. "Can't you just write a sentence at the bottom of the drawing that says, Stephanie Havilland has a big wet wide-on for Daniel Edge's monster dick?" At that, once again, Edge cackled with delight.

"What?" Curtis asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"It is, you know," Edge added. "A fucking monster. Oooh yeah…"

"I think what my eloquent friend is asking, Mr. Malmay, is, if you can manipulate reality as is purportedly true…" the sidekick began.

"Yeah, purportedly!" shouted Edge.

"…then isn't it true that people's feelings and desires can be manipulated, as well? Can you not implant the desire within Ms. Havilland, to share some quality time with Mr. Edge? And wouldn't a desire on her part make the act consensual?"

"But the desire would be… erm…" Curtis began, but his speech trailed off.

"Uh-oh," Tim whispered.

"What?" Martha asked.

"Now the one with a brain is trying to reason with him. His grasp of all this is pretty shaky as it is," Tim said. "He won't make it through this argument. I've got to help him."

Tim made to move toward the debacle at the ledge.

"No," the Doctor said, stopping him. "Not yet!"

"Well, what are we waiting for? For them to throw him off the building? For him to start crying? What? Are we going to get him out of this, or not?"

"We are, but…"

The Doctor was interrupted by Edge screaming at the top of his lungs, "You will fucking do it, or you're a fucking stain on that concrete down there, do you understand me, retard? DO IT! DO IT!"

Tim couldn't help it. He shoved the Doctor out of the way so he could see, just in time to see Daniel Edge violently grab the back of the chair Curtis was in, and tip it forward.

Tim, the Doctor, and Martha all cried out in panic, and surged forward, revealing themselves.

Fortunately, Edge's three henchmen also panicked and surged forward, catching the chair.

Both of the Doctor's hearts, as well as his stomach, were lodged in his throat as they all realised that Curtis was securely tied to the chair, and was not falling to his death… yet. He was suspended fifteen stories over a concrete courtyard, held by two large men, while the third wrestled Edge away from the proceedings. Curtis was screaming uncontrollably.

"Curtis!" Tim shouted, trying to move forward. Again, the Doctor stopped him. If he made a wrong move, things could go horribly, horribly wrong. "Curtis! I'm here! It's okay, mate! We're here!"

Edge immediately calmed down, and became bemused, when he saw Tim. "Ah, you must be the brother. Hi, I'm Daniel Edge. Pleased to make your a-quain-ass. A-quintus. Pleased to…"

"Shut up, Edge! Tell your guys to pull him back up! Now!" Tim shouted. When no-one moved, he screamed "Now!"

"Oh, okay," Edge sighed. "I mean, if one of my guys gets an itchy nose, it's splatsville for your bro, and I never get my picture. Bring him back up, boys."

The third flunky, who had been restraining Edge, seemed to sigh with noticeable relief.

The two men holding Curtis' chair pulled him back up onto the roof, and replaced him just at the precipice of the building once more. Curtis stopped screaming, and began to sob.

"Okay, now… who the hell are you two?" Edge asked, looking the Doctor and Martha over. He moved toward them, then seemed to see Martha for the first time. "Actually, I don't care about your friends… I want to know who you are." He fluttered his eyebrows at her and licked his lips.

Her stomach turned.

"Er, Daniel?" said the 'reasonable' henchman. "Task at hand?"

"Right," said Edge, turning away from Martha. Then, as an afterthought, he turned back round and said to her, "I'm not done with you yet, my lovely. Give your number to my friend Sam, here. I'll phone you later."

"Well, that won't be happening," she said, rather irritated.

Edge hadn't heard.

"What do you want to do about the drawing?" asked Sam, apparently, the continuing voice of reason.

"What do you mean, what do I want to do? I want him to finish it," Edge said, very slowly, as though his sidekick were a simpleton.

"What, this drawing?" Tim asked, gesturing to the paper in Sam's hand.

"Yes," Sam asked, suspiciously.

"Oh, that's not even Mr. Edge's drawing," Tim said, vamping. "It's for another couple, right Curt?"

"Erm…" was all Curtis could manage. He was not someone who lied well.

"Yeah, I distinctly remember you telling me, Curtis, this was a drawing you did for someone else… you said you hadn't started Mr. Edge's drawing yet. You must've got confused, mate," Tim said.

The Doctor and Martha looked at each other. Tim was a pretty good actor, and pretty good at thinking on his feet (which they already knew), but both reckoned that in this case, it was too little, too late. Especially the too late bit.

Daniel Edge took the drawing from Sam, and sauntered over to the roof's perimeter where Curtis sat rather precariously (though much less precariously than two minutes prior). Swerving the whole way, he came up behind Curtis, bent to his ear, and said as quietly as a drunk person ever can, "Well, I don't give a fuck if this drawing is supposed to be of another couple. You're going to finish it tonight, and give me what I want. That girl thinks she can fuck with me, say no to me… well, you'll fix her, right retard?"

"Erm…" from Curtis.

"You'll finish the drawing by noon today," said Edge. "Because tonight's the night. Me and Stephanie – it's happening. Tonight."

"Erm…"

And still right in Curtis' ear, Edge screamed, "Finish it!" And he shoved the chair just a touch… not hard enough to cause Curtis to topple over, but enough to scare the hell out of him, and cause everyone in the vicinity (including Edge's henchmen) to cry out.

Curtis was sobbing again. "Okay, okay," he said. "Give it to me – I'll finish it. I'll finish it."

Edge handed him the paper, then tipped the chair back, pulling him out of danger. Sam helped, probably worried that Edge would make a drunken mistake and accidentally kill Curtis or himself. Sam untied Curtis, and the latter looked at his brother for the first time since the whole thing began. Tim tried to go to him, but yet again, the Doctor restrained him, which he realised was wise.

Curtis made a few marks on the page, then said, "Does anyone have a book, or something hard I can draw on?"

"Well, Mr. Edge said you have until noon, right?" the Doctor said.

"That's right, whoever you are," Edge slurred. "By the way, you're not taller than me, you know." The inebriated brat then stumbled over to the Doctor to measure. He was, indeed, about an inch taller than the Time Lord. "Ha!" he spat.

The stench of alcohol assailed the Doctor's senses so violently with that uttered syllable, he actually pulled a face, and stepped back from Daniel Edge, waving away the offensive aroma. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me with this," he complained. "Blimey, I think I'm drunk now too. Okay, we've got until noon. It is now just after four a.m. Eight hours to fill in faces. Curtis, let's get you and Tim back to your flat."

"Fine," said Edge. "You peasants go back to your hovel. Me, I'm going back to London so that Stephanie can find me when her loins start to ache."

"Whatever," the Doctor muttered, as Edge laughed again, and Tim crossed to Curtis and hugged him tightly.

The four of them turned to leave, and no-one stopped them. Except…

"Oi, pretty lady," Edge shouted.

"Ugh," Martha grunted as she followed Curtis and Tim toward the lift.

"I'm talking to you!"

"Yeah, I know," she said back.

"What's your name?"

She sighed. "Marlene Dietrich."

The Doctor chuckled.

"Cool," said Edge. "I'll remember that."


Well, the real ticking clock begins now!

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