Chapter 10: Will and the TARDIS

Will groaned. He wasn't exactly sure of his surroundings (nor did he think he was very conscious about anything else either), although he could feel a distant pulsing at the back of his head. It wasn't his own heartbeat – which was so weak he could barely call himself alive – but in a way it still felt familiar to him, like it was part of some ancient instinct he had just discovered. It was pleasant to feel and listen to and since this was the first positive thing happening to him in what felt like ages, he took a moment to enjoy it, floating in the nothingness of his own mind. Soon though, the pulsing became more urgent – almost itchy – and he slowly felt it pushing him towards a bright light. It didn't take long for the light to take shape, multiple shapes actually, and soon he started to recognize them as the forms of the space around him – a pure mass of dark metal and more of those nasty black vines. Suddenly, the pulsing became an unbearable scream and his eyes shot open. He sat up, gasping, drawing deep, cold breaths as his eyes darted around the room. No one was there. The creature was nowhere to be seen. But still there was something completely off, though he couldn't quite put his finger around it. He was here. In safety. That certainly sounded like a damn near miracle in itself, but it wasn't particularly the strangest thing. This was the simple fact that he was standing in a room.

A damn room almost as big as a theatre completely made out of metal and strange round things and machines and O God where have I ended up?

He started to hyperventilate and reached for his inhalator, then realized he didn't have one. He wasn't even asthmatic. And if you'd think about it, it was pretty much hilarious. After all the horror he'd been through, everything he had seen, the thing that made him lose his mind was a room? A room?

Well, yes, but it was somewhat reasonable when it went completely beyond any normal human comprehension. The last thing he remembered was tumbling into a box that seemed merely big enough for three or four people. And despite the fact that his whole presence here was the result of some strange inexplicable phenomenon, this was still the one thing that scared him the most. Had it been a teleport of some sort? A gateway? Was he inside the box?

It was all quite overwhelming and he felt himself losing his balance, but then the pulse suddenly kicked in again. As opposed to a minute ago it was now nowhere near subtle; it was a shrill, shard-like cry that went straight through his brain. He flinched and caught himself at a broken railing. Oh, the agony. Even after all he had been through, it seemed like the source of this screaming was in more pain than he ever had been. And yet he still wasn't sure where it came from. It wasn't even audible, in the way that you could hear words and have some vague understanding of where – or who – they came from. It was more… in his head. Was that right? Was he finally going crazy?

A new wave of mental screams hit him and this time, it was accompanied by a heavy metallic groan coming from the room around him as well, resounding from all the depths that lied beyond it. The sound was so loud that he tottered for a moment and he grabbed the keyboard-like panel to regain his balance. He wasn't sure whether that had done something, but the noise suddenly died down, dissolving into smaller, less louder creaks and ticks. The metal felt warm and almost a sort of soothing under his fingertips. And he could feel the pulsing again as well, like a kind of heartbeat. It could have been a bit far-fetched to think, but maybe… maybe he had been swallowed by some giant metal beast? Had he ended up in its belly?

Okay, no, maybe that wasn't it; but he definitely thought this thing was somehow alive. He didn't know why, he didn't know how, and maybe it didn't even matter. Maybe there was just the simple fact that this thing – wherever he had ended up – was a living, breathing organism and perfectly capable of feeling pain. Perhaps it had let him in because it needed him and the least he could do was at least trying to do something about it.

Keeping his hands on the panel and looking up to the shattered red column of glass, he asked: "Are… are you alive?"

And the groan came again, echoing through the chamber to all of its round walls and back. He flinched. That was more or less a confirmation, yeah, but when it came to details, he wasn't so sure the machine wasn't even half alive. It touched him more than he thought it would.

"What are you?" he asked, and it took the machine a little longer to reply than usual. Instead of groaning sounds, there was now something else as well; a string of visuals, flashing quickly through his head. The box here, in Hawkins. The box somewhere which seemed to resemble Victorian London, if he had at least paid enough attention during history class. The box at the bottom of what appeared to be a lake and in front of a giant, smoking volcano.

"A time machine?" he gasped. And if this realization wasn't enough already, the screen at this side of the panel turned on, displaying the box in all sorts of environments he couldn't even recognize. A barren, red landscape. A snowy valley. A bleak, metal room and a giant red glowing ball? A sun?

"A space-time machine?" he gasped again, and the room whirred slightly in confirmation. It appeared the gift of information had drained the whole thing as the light suddenly started to dim and he found himself standing in half darkness. A little while later, the lights flickered and slowly lit up again, although less stronger than before.

"I can't believe it…" he says breathlessly. "I can't… how did you end up here? What happened to you?"

This time he probably didn't even need the machine to answer to him; he was pretty sure it was for the same reason he had ended up here. Maybe even around the same time. He didn't only feel connected to the machine on a telepathic level (and God knew how that was possible), but also on a physical level, sharing its ill state, its shivers of dread and pain.

"You miss someone as well, don't you?" he asked. "That's why you can't get out of here?"

The machine creaked. On the screen appeared a set of faces of people he didn't recognize; men with grey hair, with brown and black hair, one with blonde hair, short, tall, old faces, young faces, smiling, serious, plain mad. There was one woman amongst them as well, although her image was a little less clear than the others.

"Your crew?" he asked. "Where did they go?"

A slight ticking this time. It sounded a little desperate: I don't know. He sighed, patting the desktop as he stared down at the vines slithering over the metal floor. "Yeah, I get you. I miss my mom as well. And my brother. And my friends. I don't know where they are or how to get to them. I don't even know how I got here,"

He let out a deep, desperate sigh. The machine remained silent, emitting its slow hum.

"Is that why you let me in?" he asked, looking up at the broken column. "So I could help you? Help you get us out of here?"

There was a funny bubbling noise and for the first time, Will was sure it sounded almost positive. He got up slowly, never taking his gaze off the column. "Really? Can you? Can you get us out of here?"

Nothing but the bubbly noise. Well, in all fairness, even if it couldn't, it was still a better place to stay than out there. This was probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his life and mom would surely insist he would at least attempt to repay the favor. What mom would do… that made him go both warm and cold. For the first time since he had spoken to her in that wall back at their house, he was getting in her proximity again, and he'd made sure he wouldn't let that chance go to waste.

"Okay," he said, taking off his body warmer and hanging it over the railing. "I will help you. Just… could you keep, uh, talking to me? It seems so long since I talked to someone."

A string of short bleeps coming from the panel. No problem, boy. Will smiled, and as he started to tug at the vines to get them out of the room, he had a feeling that things would soon start to look better, and maybe, just maybe, there would be a way out of this.

"Eleven, I would like you to tell me about the man,"

Papa looked at her with his cold, dark eyes. He was sitting at the opposite side of the table, with nothing but the plain, white surface between them, though Eleven knew there were other people as well. They were watching them eagerly, standing behind the safety of their black mirrors. She didn't like any of them. Didn't love them. Not a single one. Except…

"The man?" she asked, trying her best to sound unaware.

"Yes, the man." Papa replied. "The man that broke into our home to steal our secrets, Eleven. The man that visited you."

She simply shrugged. His use of that particular word, home, angered her a little, for she was sure it was just another one of his many lies; this place had never felt like a home, although she could barely understand the meaning of that word. The TARDIS did, though, oh yes: the TARDIS with its beautiful blue colors and lights and magical world hidden inside it. Just the thought of it made her feel warm inside – though she made sure to not let see Papa any of it. She would not betray the Doctor.

"Eleven?"

"There was no man," she said, never losing sight of his cold eyes. He merely smiled – he never smiles, Eleven thought. She didn't know exactly what his expression was either, but it certainly wasn't anything positive.

"You know lying is a very bad thing to do, don't you?" he calmly asked, ticking with his fingers on the table. The girl swallowed. "Yes, P-Papa," she said, "but I'm not… I'm not lying."

"Oh, I'm sure. At least, I'm sure you don't want to, but the man makes you do it, doesn't he? We don't have secrets in our home, Eleven. Not for each other, at least. So I don't understand why you would keep anything from me."

She made sure to keep staring at him; as long as she didn't avert her gaze, he wouldn't notice anything. If she did, he would know she had lied. But oh help – it was such a hard thing to do, and Papa's eyes on themselves had something hypnotizing, almost as if they could see right through her.

"There was no man," she repeated.

Papa closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he was staring at the blank surface between them, and she could not help but let out a slight, relieved sigh.

"I really don't understand why you don't trust me, even after all this time we have spent together," he said. "You must understand that I have always tried to help you, Eleven. To protect you. As I'm sure, you already know that there is a world beyond our home. But it's not a good world. It's an evil one, full of people who are trying to hurt you. The only reason why they haven't yet is that I have always protected you. But I can't keep doing that if you don't trust me, Eleven. Trust, do you know what that means?"

"Hope," she simply replied, and he frowned, but chose not to remark on it. "Trust is not keeping secrets for each other," he said. "Not lying to each other. Both of which are very bad things to do, you know that, right?"

"Yes Papa."

"Right then. But I trust you, Eleven, so I'm going to give you one more chance. Who was that man?"

Silence filled the room as she declined to give him any form of answer. It would not matter; she wouldn't tell him anything from now on. Seconds (or possibly minutes) crawled by as he kept her locked in his cold gaze, before settling back, a small grin forming on his face. "I see. You will understand that lying is a bad thing to do, Eleven. Very bad. Take her away,"

There was little time to respond as she suddenly felt strong arms grabbing her from behind and carrying her away from the chair. She kicked and cried (as usual) and watched Papa standing at the end of the hallway (as usual) with the empty expression on his face (as usual), though she did it all less furiously than she normally would. For some reason, the thought of having succeeded in not betraying the Doctor was very satisfying. She guessed it was part of the thing Papa had described as truth – not keeping any secrets from each other, not lying to each other, not betraying each other. She made sure to keep kicking as they threw her in the empty room, even swiftly turning around to kick at the closed door, but as soon as she could hear their footsteps moving away, she smiled and relaxed back. Done it, she thought.

She turned around and was met with a sight that made her heart almost burst out of her chest. The odd man in his dark red coat was leaning against the back wall of the empty room, casually eating something from a cardboard tray.

"Quite the jolly fellows, eh?" he remarked, pinning something to his white wooden fork. It looked good. Smelled good as well.

"You came back," she answered, her eyes lighting up with renewed enthusiasm.

"Well, yes. Still haven't managed to fix our little technical matter, but that should be sorted out soon. It's got mainly to do with the strong telepathic field around this place." He chewed and pulled a weird expression. "You wouldn't say that that's the result of one little girl, honestly. Maybe there's something I missed. I'll figure it out. Anyway, I decided to check up on you to see how you were holding up. How have you been? Did they hurt you?"

She shook her head. Speaking carefully, to make sure she was using the right words, she said: "They asked about you. Papa too. He wanted to know who you are,"

"Oh, they wouldn't be the first." the Doctor replied, casting a quick smile. "Although I have to admit, it might be slightly more practical if they don't know exactly who I am. I seem to have quite an impressive record. Did you tell them who I am?"

Eleven shook her head. The Doctor smiled again. "I don't know what it is with you, little girl, but you seem to make me smile more than anyone ever could. Right then, the promise still stands. I will get you of here… one way or the other. Until then, I need you to stay strong a little longer. Could you do that for me?"

"Yes," she said, and she spoke with a confidence that almost scared her – she knew for sure that she had never been more certain about something. Yet, it also felt so good.

"You are a very brave girl, Eleven." the Doctor said. "Here, have this. I have never been a fan of chips anyway,"

He handed her the cardboard tray and she immediately began to gulp down its contents, taking the crispy golden sticks with her hands and stuffing them into her mouth. The Doctor raised his eyebrows, but calmly waited for her to finish the meal. When she finished, she licked the delicious taste from her fingers, handing the tray over after doing so.

"That's that then," he said. "I'll be going now, but I will be back."

"Promise?"

"Of course," he smiled, and with that, he pulled out his blue object again – offhandedly remarking it was a 'sonic screwdriver' – and opened the door. He raised his thumb before closing it, leaving her once again in the cold empty room, although she had to admit it had never felt better. She carefully listened for the sound of the TARDIS and swore she heard a faint wheezing in the distance, although she wasn't entirely sure. Oh, but it wouldn't matter anyway. He promised to come back.

And she had no doubt he would.