Chapter Four: Meetings
The Doctor owed her for this. Owed her big time. Only he, after all, would get them in trouble and then swan off before coming up with a better plan than option B. She forced herself not to think about what danger the Doctor might be in without her. When she got out of here - then she could worry about it. For now, she needed to ignore the cold seeping into her muscles from the floor. For now, she needed to pretend that she was sick.
Really sick.
As in, might die without medical attention sick.
So, she shook. Her entire body shuddered in what she hoped were believable convulsions from an epileptic seizure. She added in several painful groans, hoping that the addition would bring the guards.
"Hey! What is it?" one of the guards asked from the doorway. She couldn't hear any others, so she could only assume that he was alone. Sadly, she couldn't look. It would ruin the effect.
She moaned louder, doing her best to make it appear that she was in agony.
"Oh, shit!" The force field lowered, and the footsteps hurried to her side. "Hey, you okay?" The voice grew closer, and she sensed rather than saw the guard sink to his knees beside her.
When she judged him close enough, she moved. All pretences were dropped and she used every dirty trick Jack had taught her to gain the upper hand. She grabbed for his shoulders, forcing his body down to meet her knee. He jerked backward in reaction, losing his balance to lie, dazed, on the floor.
Rose scrambled to her feet and darted out of the room while the guard was stunned. A quick look at the wall next to the cell revealed a control panel, and she selected what looked to be the most likely locking mechanism.
Obediently, the force field sparked to life. Now all she needed to do was avoid any more guards and rescue the Doctor. Then they'd have to go rescue Jack. Same old, same old.
Some things never change.
Some things never change.
Even he could see the problems in the perfect little society his mother had built. Just behind the faux exterior, the gleaming panels, and the shining pathways, he could see the fear that lingered in the eyes of the oppressed. He could see, hidden in the shadows, the poor and downtrodden. He could see the unpleasant side of this perfect world.
All she could see was perfection. His mother expounded on the merits of the society that he was to run after her death. She told him of its riches and its beauty. She told him of how she had everyone's respect - and so would he. She told him of how her people were happy and content. She even encouraged him to talk to the people as they passed her little entourage. However, when he asked, they did not tell the truth. He could see the fear in their eyes as they looked between them. He could see how his mother had broken their spirits. She told him of how the laws she had passed - laws of curfew, restrictions, and penalties - had built the perfect world.
She lied.
He knew - who better? - that she had lied to herself for so long that she could not see the truth. She had pulled the wool over her own eyes, and did not care to know the facts. All she cared about was that her perfect society survived.
She disgusted him.
Jack shook his head, moved to try anything to help these people - his people, if it came to that. They were hurting. Maybe, just maybe, he could try to change things for the better. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her...No. He had tried that before, and the result of that final argument was his flight from Telurais and his past. Some things never change.
Even now, some twenty years later, he wanted to save the Teluraisians. He wanted to spare them some of the agonies he had suffered under his mother's iron thumb. His lips quirked into a smile. He had never before been fond of lost causes. Must be the Doctor's influence.
"Jonathan!" His mother's sharp tone pulled him out of his reverie.
"Yes, Mother?"
"You weren't listening to me. I was saying that Evelyn Troudeau is still unmarried. You two would make the perfect couple." He let her continue her rambling, telling him of the fabulous marriage she would throw for him and of the wonderful life he and Evelyn would have together. He had heard it all before. He could practically recite what she would say next: who should be there, what he should wear, what powerful allies he would make with this alliance.
It was the same tired path that his mother had tread in his youth. She expected to be able to pick things up from where they had left off. No change. To Elizabeth Harkness, his life was defined by two events. Being born on Telurais. And returning to Telurais. There was no in between.
He had to get out of here. He had to escape before she managed to wrap more of her commitments and desires around him until he choked. He needed the Doctor. He needed Rose. He needed people who cared about him rather than their image of what he meant for them. He needed to rescue them. But first, he needed to rescue himself.
Her world had narrowed to one goal: escape. The scrape of a shoe against the tiles, caused her to press herself against the wall. Though it offered little cover, she was thankful for Jack's shirt. Without it, her red bikini would have been painfully obvious against the white paint. She heard footsteps, drawing near, and the low murmur of voices.
She was invisible.
No one could see her.
She was invisible.
The chill of the marble wall seeped through the thin shirt, and she suppressed a reflexive shiver. Don't move, don't move, don't move, she repeated the mantra in her mind.
The voices were closer. Couldn't they hear the pounding of her heart? Blood roared in her ears and she willed them to pass her by. Don't move, don't move, don't move. In the corner of her eye, she could see them. A pair of guards on patrol, neither looking left nor right, passed the corridor junction. If one turned, even a little, she would be caught. That would be bad.
Thankfully, the guards continued walking. She waited until the voices receded before she even thought of moving. If she could just get to the next corridor, she might be able to figure out where she was. Maybe. She crept along the hallway, hugging the wall as she moved. Be invisible, she urged herself. Escape.
However, fate seemed to have other plans for her. A hand landed on her shoulder and she stiffened in response. No. No. No!
The hand encouraged her to turn, so she did. Slowly, ever so slowly. Maybe she could get the upper hand. Maybe she could escape again. Maybe...her eyes widened as she recognised her captor.
The Doctor.
It was the Doctor.
He grinned at her, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough at all. He was safe. She was safe. Well, as safe as one could be in a colony full of enemies and with Jack still in captivity.
She really didn't even think about her actions. She just did it. She grabbed his collar - when had he found his clothes? - and pulled him into a kiss. As first kisses go, it wasn't her best. It wasn't really even much of a kiss, more of a 'thank God you're alive' reaction.
However, as first kisses go, it changed her world.
It wasn't the feel of his lips against hers - first startled, and then an enthusiastic participant. Nor was it even the feel of his arms as they wrapped around her - even though his body temperature was slightly cooler than hers, his body burned where it brushed against her bare skin. Instead, it was the emotion she felt, bubbling inside her. A mixture of relief, happiness, and love threatened to overwhelm her already over-taxed mind. When they finally separated, she was certain that her expression was dazed.
Wow.
The Doctor's voice was soft as he spoke, mindful of the danger that they were still in. "Hello." Damn him. He didn't even seem flustered. "Miss me?" He grinned, but in his smile she could see the truth.
He was flustered. He was just a bit better at hiding it than she.
"Were you gone?" Rose asked, tongue-in-cheek.
"I'll have you know, Rose Tyler, that I just managed to find us some allies." He tried to be haughty, but his eyes gave him away.
"Can they help us get Jack?" Now that her flying emotions had somewhat settled, her thoughts turned to the missing member of their team. Jack. He was in danger, and they had to save him. But she suspected that to reach him they would need all the help they could get.
"I hope so." He tilted his head slightly and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, Rose. It's not safe to stay here."
So, they ran.
Same old, same old.
She wouldn't change a thing.
If he closed his eyes, tuning out his mother's monotone voice, he could see him. The Doctor. Strapped to a chair, the leering face of Bjarte - or some other 'interrogator' - leaning over him. Would he start with the knives? Or go straight to the electric shocks? Begin with the punches? Or be a bit more imaginative in how he dealt the pain? Would a knife slip just a little too much? A shock be administered too close to a vital organ? Would he have to deal with another regeneration? Another death? Another loss?
He knew the Doctor. Even though he had changed, some things remained the same. He would not tell them anything they wanted to know. Or, if he did, they would not be able to understand it. He knew the Doctor. And he knew that the interrogator would see no other choice. He wanted to save him. Rescue him. Comfort him. Extract revenge for every injury on his friend's body. He wanted to tear the city to shreds, but he could not.
Not while Rose was still in their custody.
Not while his mother could hold her continued safety over his head.
He was as captive as they were. As bound as they were. As, and he hated to admit it, helpless. There had to be something he could do. There had to be a resistance. Someone had to object to his mother's rule. Someone. Anyone. If he could just reach them...but no. He was watched too carefully. Though his mother had left him in a room, his old room as it happened, he was locked in. Guards were positioned at the door, and nothing had changed inside.
He remembered this room. There was the bed, covered in layers of fine cotton sheets and thick quilts. There was the wardrobe, filled to the brim with 'appropriate' clothing - not a pair of jeans or a t-shirt in sight. There was the fake window, whose screen could show the outside world but never let him leave. In every corner was a memory, and none of them pleasant.
He had been returned to his gilded cage, and here he could do nothing. He was powerless. Helpless. Hopeless. And, while he was pampered, the Doctor was in pain. And Rose was a prisoner. His hands clenched into fists. No. He would not let this happen. He could not. He had to do something. Anything.
Otherwise, he might go mad.
Unless, of course, he already was.
Run.
It was the standard of their lives, the word that defined them and their every movement through time and space. They ran, stumbled, and laughed their way through and out of situations that would have caused a number of his other selves to balk. And so they were running again. Down corridors that were little more than blurs. Through doorways and down yet more halls, following a mental map that he had memorised from Evelyn's paper just prior to destroying it.
He paused at a junction, senses straining to detect even the smallest sound. Nothing. Still safe. Still free.
"Just a little further," he told her in a hushed tone, acutely aware of the feel of her hand within his. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
From his recollection of the paper, they had to cross the junction, take the next left and knock on the door. Simple.
He should have known better. He was the Doctor. Nothing was ever easy when it came to him, no matter the regeneration.
A klaxon echoed through the hallway, it's sharp tones causing both Rose and himself to wince. "Citizens of Telurais, return to your homes immediately. Do not linger in your businesses. Return home immediately and lock your doors. Do not leave your residences until the all-clear has sounded." The klaxon sounded once more and, with its final burst, the hallway was bathed in a deep mauve.
The Doctor grinned. "That's not good."
She tugged his hand. "Keep going."
He nodded and they took off once more, only this time he heard the sound of pounding feet in the distance.
Guards.
They were coming.
They turned the next corner, and ahead was the doorway from Evelyn's map. They had arrived. Before he could knock on the door, it opened and two pairs of hands reached out to haul both of them inside.
"Keep quiet," a deeply accented voice instructed as the door was closed and locked behind them. "They're coming."
He could easily picture the guards as they walked down the hallway. Would they stop at the door? Try the handle? Sure enough, the footsteps paused and the handle rattled. Apparently satisfied, the guards moved on. Safe. At least, he hoped so. He turned to face the two people that had brought them inside.
"You must be the Doctor." The older of the pair, a dark-haired man with blue-green eyes, smiled in welcome. He was the owner of the accented voice. "I am Harrison Imelder."
Ah. Suddenly things made quite a bit of sense.
He knew what that meant. The klaxon. The alert. The sound of the guards charging past his door. Someone had escaped. Someone had violated the law according to Elizabeth Harkness, and he knew exactly who it was. He knew who it could only be. The Doctor. And, his heart sang, where one was so was the other. Rose must be with him. The alternative did not bear thinking about.
They were free.
Now, he grinned. It was his turn.
To be continued...