Title: Manipulation of the Mind

Author: Trustno1

Disclaimer: Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

Chapter XVII

Rose woke to the worst pain of her life. In addition to the construction company currently working away inside her head, and the bursts of fire down her spine, her entire body ached.

Not the kind of ache that comes with a bad cold, or the flu. No; this was deep insider her, a dull, throbbing, ever-present ache that touched every part of her. Rose was acutely aware of every cell in her body; aware that with every breath the ache swelled within her. No matter how she squirmed in the restraints she could still feel it.

I warned you, Rose. I warned you not to resist me. You knew that this would happen – you brought it on yourself, the Voice said regretfully, but with an underlying glee that sickened Rose.

"Fuck you!" Rose screamed, and was rewarded with a fresh burst of pain that touched every nerve ending in her body with fiery fingers.

Now that's not very nice, is it Rose? I tried to help you see the error of your ways, and what do I get for my troubles? A crude curse. No wonder the Doctor left you here to rot, if that's the most intelligent language you can come up with.

"I'm not listening to you," she cried, not angrily this time, more resigned. She was fighting a losing battle, and a painful one at that. She wanted to fight, she really did, but although her voice, and the feeling deep inside her were still alive, her body couldn't take much more. She didn't want to listen to the Voice, but unless the Doctor returned soon – and he was going to, she remained resolute about that – she would have to give in for a little while. "I'm not listening," she said, though it was more of a whimper this time.

There's no-one else to listen to though, so it looks like you're stuck with me. Believe me, I'd prefer someone more cooperative, but we have to work with what we've got, don't we Rose? The Voice continued in an infuriatingly conversational tone.

Another fresh burst of pain exploded in Rose's body, and black butterflies flittered across her vision. She writhed and squirmed and twisted, but the restraints refused to budge, and the pain remained. She tried bringing her arms up to her head, attempting, in desperation, to claw out the poisonous entity inside her brain, but they were no-where near close enough.

She clasped her fists against the pain that refused to abate, trying not to scream, and not noticing her nails digging into her palms, creating moon shaped bruises and cuts. Neither did she notice the spots of blood dripping from her clenched fists onto the tousled white bed sheet.

As the Voice began giggling, she gave up on silence – after all, who would hear her? – clenched her fists even tighter, and screamed. The Voice laughed.

Dr. Duquesne was seated at a chair next to Max Duffy's cot, where the latter perched on the end, glass of water in a hand that quivered every so often. The Doctor leant against the wall nearest the bed, arms folded, breathing even. At first he had thought about sitting in the other vacant chair, but as he pulled it up beside the Director he noticed the angry red scratches at the sides of Duffy's face, and cuts up and down his arms that still looked fresh and sore. The cold fear around his hearts tightened again, and he prayed that he had sufficiently restrained Rose's wrists and ankles to the cot. He was beginning to wish he hadn't left her alone at all, wished he had managed to sedate her or something so that he could have brought her here with him. She had been alone in the TARDIS for almost two hours, and although he tried not to allow his mind to wander over all the possibilities at the moment, seeing what Max had done to himself invited new and dreadful scenarios to stroll through his mind. He drowned these thoughts out by repeating over and over in his head: 'I'm coming back, Rose,' hoping she was somehow able to hear it and hold on a little while longer.

Max began talking then, his voice slightly hoarse from shouting, and the Doctor ceased his silent litany to listen.

"It was… God, eight days ago now. Bobby and I were heading out to the smallest lab in Darwin-Romeo – Director, do you have a map?" Duquesne nodded and pulled out a small hand-held computer, similar to the one the Doctor saw in his office, about the size of A6 paper and not much thicker. It projected an aerial map in front of the three men and the Doctor leaned in closer. The map had magnified an area of the rainforest containing two clearings about a mile apart. The left one was the larger of the two, around two or three acres, containing a sprawl of buildings that the map identified as Lab 1. A green cross nearby marked a teleporter. The second clearing was only about half an acre, and contained only a teleporter. The Doctor realised that the TARDIS had landed almost exactly between the two clearings, remarkably close to a bright red, ominous looking cross.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," he whispered as the map vanished and Max resumed talking.

"The teleporter next to the Lab was being repaired, so we teleported to the clearing on the right, intending to walk…"

"They would be conducting repairs on the one damn teleporter we wanted to use, wouldn't they?"

"Ah, chill, Max, little exercise never killed anyone. You still got your samples?"

"No, I decided to let the monkey I just saw carry them for me, they were a little heavy!" he said sarcastically. "Course I've got them." Bobby just laughed.

"Ow! Whoa! Son of a bitch! The plant grabbed me!" Bobby cried indignantly, only just avoiding sprawling on the ground. Now Max laughed.

"Should watch your feet, you big, lanky git."

"Y'know you are bigger than me."

"Yeah, but I'm all muscle baby! You're just skin and bones!" he retorted good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied. He looked down at the fabric case he was carrying. "Ha! Didn't even drop anything," he said to himself as he jogged to catch up with Max.

"It wasn't until the next morning with the final test that we realised one vial was missing – he must've dropped it after all when the plant tripped him. The vials are tiny, so it might've worked its way loose or something. We spent most of that day retracing our steps and searching for it. But the only trace we managed to detect with the computers came from the plant itself. Figuring it had been digested we took a cutting to return to the lab for testing. That particular sample dropped was a mixture of human DNA and a certain hormone, and it shouldn't have been harmful, or affected the plant, even when ingested by another organism. We actually thought we'd killed the plant, since the reading was so much lower than we anticipated, and it was wilting right in front of us. We should have alerted you, Sir, put the area on Yellow Alert. As it was, we wanted to make absolutely certain the plant had indeed ingested the substance, and that it was dying. It couldn't spread in any way, so we assumed – incorrectly – that it'd be safe to leave it. It wasn't until we returned to the Lab that we noticed we'd been stung." The young doctor bowed his head in shame, realising as he told his story the magnitude of the mistake. The Director watched him sadly. He understood why the two young doctors had waited to inform the authorities to destroy it – unnecessary intervention when the full details were unknown could be potentially just as dangerous as leaving it, and he understood why they assumed it couldn't pose a threat. Unfortunately, the Serpens was still being tested on, as some characteristics were unknown even now, though they weren't to know this. The Director had already decided that this young man had been punished enough to last two lifetimes, and Duquesne couldn't bring himself to reprimand him further.

"The results came soon after; it had been ingested all right." Max Duffy looked up at the two men, his face ashen and awash with guilt and fear. "The plant – the Serpens – its DNA was mutating."

End Chapter XVII