Title: Lost Luggage and Lost Souls

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

oOo oOo Chapter 3 oOo oOo

Here's what happened, as far as Jessica could see: one second, everything was going to hell in a handbasket, and then the next . . . the next the little guy who called himself a doctor flicked his wrist like he'd done for that kid, and there was this thing that looked kind of like a silver ball-point pen in his hand.

The pen hummed, and even Ben seemed kind of confused. And that was about when the hum became a shriek. Jessica clapped her hands over her ears as the sound slammed into her. It felt like it was cutting away her ability to think or move or do anything other than curl up into a little ball and rock in misery.

She looked up through streaming eyes and saw the doctor standing in the middle of everything, uneffected and holding the pen-thing aloft like it was the lantern which would get them through the wilderness. He bellowed, "Get out now!"

The gaggle of other students were farther away from the mess and didn't seem nearly as effected as she was. They got up like a herd dashed through the door without a glance back. Several others: a few old women, some vets, a general collection of white trash, they got out, too. That left the police, the lady and her screaming kids, the biker and the kid in the ticket booth, the thugs, the doctor, the girl, and her. She saw the door. She knew she could get up and get out, but she was too close to the noise and her legs just wouldn't work.

Then, the thug with Ben crashed into the doctor shoulder-first. They both fell, and the pen rolled under her chair, falling silent. Ben's arm was down, and the girl who'd been with the doctor grabbed his arm with both hands, brought it down across her knees with all her might, shrieking her fury, and then elbowed him in the gut when he dropped the knife. He staggered back and she shot forward, yanking the thug off the doctor and punching him in the face, then falling on top of him as she just kept hitting. Jessica felt a dull shock as she saw the girl's eyes change from deep brown to a yellow-amber. She snarled, and her canines were elongated. The doctor got to his feet and pulled her away and she rounded on him, ready to do damage to anyone who got in her way. She stopped when she saw him, though, and Jessica saw that she was still sobbing. He touched her shoulder and looked her in the eye, and there was something that passed between them. Her eyes went back to brown, her teeth were normal, and Jessica wondered if she hadn't imagined the whole thing. The girl stood there, looking crumpled and sad as she tugged up the tank top which sagged dangerously low. She clutched the stretchy fabric close to her chest and shook her head, scattering tear drops across the linoleum, tumbling into him and grabbing at his lapels with her free hand.

Meanwhile, the thugs had opened fire on the police once the pen thing stopped working. The two detectives were pinned down, and only one of them seemed to have a gun, which ran out of ammo pretty quick, but not before shooting one of the thugs in the leg and another in the chest. Then, her gun clicked and the thugs closed in. Jessica shut her eyes, but no gunshot came and she opened her eyes just in time to see the lady cop get a shotgun butt in the face. She dropped and her partner ran over to her. He was held up and searched by the one uninjured thug as the one shot in the leg stood over the lady. The one shot in the chest was lying on the ground bleeding. Probably dead.

Before the confusion died down, Jessica ducked and grabbed the pen-thing. She was surprised that, despite the fact he had been clutching it so tightly, the metal was still cool. She slipped it up under her corset, figuring the thugs might empty her pockets, but they weren't as likely to slit her corset laces. Of course, after the girl was attacked, that wasn't really a certainty, but it wasn't like Jessica could swallow the damn thing.

The thugs dragged the two cops forward, shoving the man into a seat and dropping the woman at his feet. She stirred, her movements disjointed and sluggish, and he kept making little abortive movements to touch her arm, but each move was met with a gun in his face. They didn't shoot them, though. They were too busy staring at the real threat as he straightened his cuffs.

The thugs, and especially Ben, looked terrified and overwhelmed. Jessica couldn't blame them. They'd probably hoped for a relatively easy stick-up, and instead they had to contend with a doctor who carried sonic bombs in his pockets.

Ben put the gun in the doctor's face, and the little guy just rolled his eyes. "Honestly," he said, "must we repeat this dance? I mean, we trade words and then you put a gun to my head, and then we start the whole thing again." He acted as though nothing were wrong. As though there had been a minor disagreement over cricket or something. Next to him, the girl had drawn herself up, still clutching the remains of her shirt and trying to hide the fact that she'd cried. She'd hate it if the doctor drew any more attention to her predicament, but Jessica could see therapy bills in their future. If two weird people like that believed in therapy.

"You got a death-wish," Ben said.

"And what wish do you have?" the doctor asked, all mild manners. "I doubt you came here to wave guns about and frighten people. So, what is it that you intended to do before you made the rather unfortunate choice of shooting someone and getting me involved in this sordid business, hmm?"

Again, the doctor had rendered Ben speechless and off-balance. Jessica figured he must make a habit of it, to do it so well. She'd seen guys like him, dealers and the like with silver tongues. They could sell you their shit and have you addicted before you even noticed that you wanted any. Before Ben could say anything, the lady cop groaned and the thugs all had their guns trained on her.

"I'm going to let them shoot her," Ben said to the doctor.

"No," the doctor said in unison with her partner.

"Look," the partner said, talking fast and looking scared, "I know what she did was stupid. I know! But you can't . . . I mean, she was just looking out for that kid over there. Your guys shot at us first, and it was self-defense, and she's a good cop. Shit. Please."

Ben trained his gun on the lady cop and pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed through her shoulder. She gasped and her partner nearly jumped Ben, snarling.

"That was for Cody," he said, glancing at the guy with the shot in his leg. Then, he took aim again.

"Stop!" the doctor insisted. "This is unnecessary!"

Ben nodded at the man on the ground who'd stopped bleeding, moving, and breathing. "You call that necessary?"

"More than this sadistic torture of another being, yes. She was defending herself. You've shot her once. Let her be."

Ben nodded.

Then he shot the lady cop through the heart and she died with her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Her partner moaned, this low, wrenched-out sound, and scrambled to her side.

The doctor stood still, staring at the dead woman on the floor with one hand on the girl's wrist. The girl herself had blanched white, and the doctor was still and old and so tired. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. "I'm so sorry."

Ben grabbed the doctor by the collar and dragged him over to the chair next to the mother and her screaming kids. They stood, eye to eye for a moment, the doctor hauled up on his toes by the taller man, and then Ben tossed him down onto the orange vinyl. The girl went with, staying close to the doctor and starting to really look out of her depth.

"You're not in charge here, Doctor," Ben said. "I am."

Jessica drew her knees close to her chest and hugged them, looking at the dead cop on the floor. She wondered if she'd look as small and heavy when they shot her. She wondered if they might be here for her, and if maybe that made the lady cop's death her fault.

She was trying really hard not to care.

oOo oOo oOo oOo

Judy was keeping Zoe's face turned from the dead woman as the thug who hadn't got shot dragged her and the man she'd killed into the ticket booth. The biker carried the ticket-taker out of the little room when they entered, both looking deeply moved by different emotions. The kid was crying, and the old man hardened over, stiffening against the horrors the world had to offer.

He looked around, taking in the whole situation, his eyes darkening as he saw Ace tying her tank-straps back together, sitting in that chair with her shoulder pressed to the Doctor's, keeping him touch-close. The biker started toward her, but the Doctor nodded to the shaking policeman on the floor, still crouched next to the pool of his partner's blood. The biker stiffened and they looked at one another. Then, after a second, the biker nodded, went to the policeman and nudged him with his foot. The cop lunged up, ready to fight, but sagged again when he saw the biker carrying the ticket-taker.

"Come on, Son," the biker said. "We'd best join up with the rest."

The policeman nodded, a slow, jerky movement only half-recalled, and then shuffled after the biker as he walked over and laid the ticket-taker down on a row of seats across from Judy. The biker sat at the kid's head, the cop sat at the kid's feet, and, as the thugs were busy dealing with bodies, all eyes turned to the Doctor.

"You're not human," the biker said. Not really an accusation, and not something he was overly-worried about. Just something that needed airing. Judy had suspected as much for a while, but it was strange to have it tossed out there so bald-faced.

The Doctor and Ace exchanged a glance, and the Doctor shrugged. "No, Mister Ross, I'm not," he said.

The biker nodded.

"Then what are you?" Judy asked. "Are you an angel?"

There was the barest of bitter smiles on his face as he shook his head.

Her heart went cold with a thought. "A devil?"

"My dear Judy," he said, despite the fact she'd never told him her name, "if I'm not human, why must I be divine?"

"Because there's nothing else."

"There are a thousand-million things I might be: animal, mineral, vegetable . . . extraterrestrial."

"There's no such thing," Judy whispered, no longer sure.

"Yes, there are," Ace said. "Billions of species all over the cosmos. The Doctor's just one."

"I don't believe you," Judy said.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked. "Why is it that you would believe I was an angel, but not that I could be born on a different planet, breathe different air, grow up under a different sun?" He held out his hand, palm-up. "Feel my pulse, Judy."

Reaching out, she did as he told her, fumbling with his wrist. It was dry and cold under her hand, barely warmer than the air around him. Then, under her fingers, she felt the pulse. She froze. It wasn't right. Each beat had an echoed beat following a bit behind. It was as though—"You have two hearts," she said.

"Two hearts, a respiratory system which doesn't remotely resemble yours, a brain structure totally different than yours. I look like you, but we're nothing alike." He slid his hand back and took her by the hand. "I'm so sorry, Judy. None of you were to know."

"I've got a gun," the cop whispered. That thought hung between them all like a big tire swing, and Judy was pretty sure most of them wanted to climb on and go for a ride. She just wasn't sure who the target would be. Before, things had seemed so clear, but now? Now their savior was an alien. She had yet to see a movie where the aliens were good that she believed.

Ace uncurled, her feet lowering to the ground and her body shifting into a more ready position. "Planning on shooting someone?" she asked, leaving no doubt in anybody's mind that the answer had best be 'no.'

The cop was looking the Doctor up and down. Probably waiting for him to sprout tentacles or something. Judy had to admit that some part of her was doing the same thing. Some part of her was all right with the cop shooting this sweet little man, because he wasn't really a sweet little man. He was an alien, and he'd maybe lied about everything. Of course, if he shot the Doctor, the cop'd have to shoot Ace, who, as far as Judy knew, might be a real person. And then the thugs would shoot the cop. But she understood the sentiment.

And the Doctor knew that. His eyes shimmered with a sort of quiet disappointment. She'd failed some test. She wasn't what he'd hoped or thought she could be. Maybe he didn't understand that there was a certain level of disappointment for her, as well. She'd actually bought into the thought that an angel might exist, that maybe her daddy had been right all along, but it wasn't true. He was an alien. He sucked out brains or was invading Earth or was just different, but not in the way he should be. Not in the way that meant there was a God who was looking out for Judy and her girls.

"Nobody's shooting nobody," the biker said.

"What about Ben and his goons?" the cop asked. "Can we shoot them, or are we going to sit around knitting baby booties until they decide to put a bullet through our brains?"

"Detective Thomson, violence is not the answer," the Doctor said.

"How the hell do you know my name?"

Ace said, "Because he's a telepath. And rude."

"Well, Mr. Telepath, if you're vetoing me shooting these sons of bitches, or you for that matter, you'd better have a damn good idea what we're going to do instead. Got something other than a name game and a whistling pen up you sleeve?"

"Language," the Doctor said.

"What?"

"There are children present. Please watch what you say." Zoe looked up him. He met her gaze with a gentle smile. The baby screamed. The Doctor brushed a hand over her head and she fell silent, her eyes slipping closed. "What's her name?" he asked.

"Don't have one," Judy said, pulling the baby back and away from that touch. She wanted to hit him. He'd done something to her baby. Him and his telepathy. "She was named after my husband's mom, but I'm changing it. She don't have a name yet." Working up her courage, she said, "You did something to my baby."

"Just a little nudge," he said. "Babies are suggestible as is. It takes very little to convince them to take a bit of a kip."

"You just got inside my baby's head and told her to take a nap?"

He pulled back a little more, his eyes cool and distant. He was closing himself to her, shielding himself from her distrust, her distaste. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought it better that she sleep."

Zoe didn't look away from the Doctor. Maybe she was too young to understand what 'alien' meant. Maybe she was different from her mama, and the idea that he was an alien was no less wonderful than the idea that he could be an angel. Maybe she'd rather have an alien.

Maybe Zoe had never cared about what he was called in the first place. Her little girl seemed to have some kind of sympathy to the Doctor, and he didn't have to be anything in particular for her to be awe-struck. He just had to be him.

"How the hel—how'd a couple of aliens wind up on a Greyhound, anyway?" Thomson asked, his voice rough. His eyes kept making dashes to his old seat in the corner of the room.

"Hey, I'm human. Well, mostly human," Ace said. "London born and raised, aren't I? I only found out about the whole space and time travel thing when I was sixteen."

"You got parents back in London?" the biker asked.

"My mum still lives there. At least I guess she does. We never got on." Ace crossed her arms. "Besides, the Doctor's ship's my home. I don't need to go back."

Again, Judy understood. Ace and she, they were cut from the same cloth. Could have been friends in another life, if some alien didn't stand smack-dab between them, separating them forever from any real understanding. Maybe that's why the Doctor had been disappointed. Maybe he'd seen Ace in her, and rejection wasn't something he'd seen coming.

"Excuse me," Thomson said. "Anyone remember the men with guns? The ba—men who shot my partner?"

"Yes," the Doctor said, his voice distant. "I do. The problem is that currently the balance of power is very much in their favor, and little I do seems to change that."

"So, what's the good of being an alien if you can't do anything?" Thomson asked. He was angry. He was on the edge of breaking entirely, and he was redirecting all that grief. Too bad they were the nearest things he could explode on.

"What's the good of being human?"

"I could make it to my gun," Thomson said. "Seriously, I could get there, take out a few more—"

"And be a martyr? Honestly, Detective, you're no good to any of these people if you throw your life away."

Something dangerous had entered Thomson's eyes. "Are you saying Jimenez threw her life away?"

The Doctor looked away. "No. I'm very conscious of what she gave her life for." He glanced at Ace. "And I'm aware of the debt I owe her."

"Then—"

"And I intend to pay that debt by ensuring that no one else here dies, including you, Detective Thomson."

The policeman slumped in his chair, deflating as soon as he'd flared. His face was buried in his hands, but Judy didn't think he was crying. No, that man was too wrung-out to cry just yet. Maybe later, when all this was done and he was alone it would all hit him.

For now, they were too busy to cry. All except the baby, and she was in a deep sleep now that the Doctor had done whatever it was he did to her.

"We got a plan?" Tim asked.

"Um," Judy said, feeling like the quiet kid in class. "Maybe this is dumb, but why don't we find out what they want and just, you know, give it to them?"

The Doctor nodded. "That may be wise, although there is the risk that we either won't be able or won't be willing to provide it."

"Got that right," Ace muttered, the length of her upper arm pressed against his as she shifted ever-so-slightly closer.

He caught her eyes and said, "That's not why they're here."

"Just a bonus, then?"

"Control. Dominance. Power. Leverage. I won't allow them to do that again."

"You can't save me from everything, Doctor," she said.

"No?"

There was a sound across the room and the small clump of people looked up to see the thugs headed their way once more. Thomson shook his head. They all knew he didn't have the time to get his gun. The rest of them were just waiting to see what happened next.