A/N: Hello everyone! waves madly I'm back! I have a massive pile of alerts to catch up on, but I promised to update as soon as I got back so here it is. And look! Page dividers! Thank Sepik.
This chapter is dedicated to agapi16 for being such a wonderful friend. Read and review her fic, Never Alone. Have you read my previous fourteen disclaimers? Then I don't need to repeat myself.
The Doctor darts round the console.
"Don't answer your door?" Jack voices his mystification.
The rotor begins to rise and fall. The Doctor stands back, calling up a file on the monitor.
"Susan Ridley. Born 1950. Well-off family. Happy home life, well educated, a happy marriage, children and grandchildren. Widowed in 2010. Murdered brutally, in 2014, by a psychopath who had skipped parole. This is the version I saved 'off-line', as it were. This copy won't be affected by any changes. It isn't linked…"
The Doctor decides that now is not the time to attempt to explain how the Tardis stores all the knowledge of the universe.
"But if she didn't answer the door…Susan Ridley etc. Widowed in 2010. Assisted in the capture of an escaped psychopath in 2014. Volunteered at a children's home. Adored by the children, won many community awards," he smiles. "She used to stargaze with a girl called Katie Whitehead. Katie went to become a brilliant astronomer, won a Nobel Prize. Always maintained that it was Susan's encouragement. Susan died peacefully in 2031, aged 81, leaving behind five children, six grandchildren and about five hundred honorary nieces and nephews."
"But why, out of all the people that will ever live, did you save her file?"
As far as Jack can tell, she had led a perfectly ordinary late 20th/ early 21st century life. Apart from the end, but even that wasn't unheard of. Why her?
"Don't know," the Doctor shrugs.
Jack gapes incredulously. "You did it on a whim?"
"No, my ninth self wasn't much for sudden whims. I must have had a reason. I just can't remember what. I found a Tardis memo in my jacket pocket when I was emptying them after regeneration. It said 'Save Susan Ridley (1950-2014) file offline.' I knew the date of the murder and I saw the date we were there."
"A. Tardis. Memo?"
"Yep. Don't remember printing the memo or ever hearing of Susan Ridley before, but that must be post-regenerative memory loss. Who else could have printed a Tardis memo?"
"A Tardis memo!" Jack splutters with laughter.
The Doctor presses a few buttons. A slip of paper shoots out of a slot Jack has never noticed before. He hands it to Jack, who looks down at it. It's a square of white card, with a blue block in the top left-hand corner and large, bold black type across the middle.
It reads 'Yes, a Tardis memo. Shut up, Jack.'
The Tardis settles and the Doctor strides to the doors, all laughter gone.
xxx
"Breathing shallow but steady. Pulse 20 bpm. Does that correspond with the heartbeat?"
"Um…no."
"No?"
"No."
The paramedic shakes his head, bemused. "Well, what do you read the heartbeat as?"
"There isn't one."
"What?"
"There isn't one. She's breathing and she's got a pulse, but she hasn't got a heartbeat."
"That's not possible."
"Try it yourself." The paramedics swap places.
"Must be a dud stethoscope. Bring me the spare."
They both listen to the spare.
"Nothing."
"Nothing."
"Maybe the docs will have an answer."
xxx
"Scan her." Dr Michael Bell orders. He's the Authority here.
"But…but, sir, she needs an appoint…"
"We have here a small girl, who may be dying, with a pulse but no heartbeat. I said, SCAN HER!"
Many scurry to do his bidding. Or to get out of the way of his temper.
xxx
She's so cold. Why so cold? She tries to wriggle her fingers and toes but there seems to be no response. There are several cold, metal things poking her. And it is so dark.
She forces her eyes open- somehow it doesn't feel natural- and instantly her vision is filled with blue. She knows of the blue eye, although thankfully she's never seen it. Or seen through it.
There is a figure in her vision. The Doctor, holding a large weapon, his face twisted by pure hatred. He fires.
She tries to scream, but all that comes out is a mad, metallic cry.
"Exterminate! Exterminate! EXTERMINATE!"
xxx
"Impossible."
"Check for yourself."
Bell lays a stethoscope on the right side of Romana's chest. The slow beat confirms the image on the monitor. The…thing on the trolley has two hearts. Fifteen ribs and a rather strange placement of the kidneys.
"Evacuate the hospital. Seal it off. And call them."
The others hesitate.
"Now!" They rush to do his bidding. He understands their hesitation. Of course it looks like a human but it isn't. And therefore has no human rights. Its physiology is amazing.
He crosses to the sink, washes his hands thoroughly and pulls on a pair of disposable rubber gloves. He breaks open a sterile sealed disposable syringe, and quickly swabbing the creature's arm, slips the needle into the blue vein showing clearly underneath the pale skin of the crook of her…its arm.
Deep red blood fills the syringe. At first glance, it appears almost human but microscopic examination will doubtless show it to be anything but. He swabs the inside of the creature's mouth. DNA sample, they will no doubt want a sample for genetic analysis. They could do it themselves, but he prefers this way. Much less fuss. He can be sure that it's done properly. Altogether less problematic.
He's no dentist, but the teeth all seem to be present and correct. No venomous fangs. One near the back is even wobbly. He smiles distantly as he remembers holding his tooth out to his mother, so proud of it. The image shifts, and it's still the same scene, but now the girl…thing is holding out a tooth, beaming, to a similarly messy-haired man dressed in brown.
He jerks away and hurries to the sink, scrubbing his hands thoroughly, as if to rid himself of the memory of the slight warmth of her skin. It would be much easier if she looked alien….that was the cunning of the disguise, of course. And a small girl. So devious.
xxx
"Personal effects?" Brown might look like dumb muscle but his brilliant brain ensures he's the Authority wherever he is.
"One key, worn on a chain around her neck. Five marbles, a sweet of some kind, some clay dice. A small wooden figure, crudely carved and painted, a scrap of paper covered in circle patterns and a coin. We don't recognise the currency, the symbols or the metal."
"Right. Bag it all." The two bodyguards behind him attend to the task, dumping the bags on the trolley beside the creature. They have arrived and effortlessly taken control. The hospital is empty and there are barricades around it.
"Blood?"
"Preliminary tests show many interesting acids. It does contain haemoglobin, but of a slightly different design to humans."
"DNA?" For the first time, the scrawny looking man seems to hesitate.
"DNA?" Brown likes his demands to be fulfilled instantly. He hates having to ask twice.
"We ran it through the database. It has at least a 65 match with human DNA." He holds his breath, hoping Brown won't punish the messenger.
"Ingenious. It would appear what we are dealing with here is not just an alien that looks like a human. But an alien that has deliberately disguised itself as human, even going to the extent of grafting human DNA on to its own."
The doctors are huddling together at the back of the room. Apart from two. They both stand a little apart from the group. They are both watching Brown. They both have expressions of disgust on their faces.
The erstwhile Authority of the Hospital's Freudian slips had evolved to uncertainty then self-disgust. Now it is an equal mix of self-disgust and disgust of Brown. He doesn't like what he sees and he recognises a lot of what he sees in himself.
Brown is still talking.
"Blood and DNA analysis should be completed within the next forty-eight hours. We will move the specimen to a secure location and you will have your hospital back." He turns to his bodyguards. "The time is now seventeen-thirteen. At twenty hundred hours, we will move the specimen to the basement."
Bell can stay silent no longer. "But that's the mortuary!"
Brown treats him to an icy stare. "I am perfectly aware of that."
Bell looks between the girl on the trolley and Brown. He has no doubt who the monster is here. The one letting a small girl die, for the crime of not being- entirely- human. So she can be 'investigated'.
I called these people. Of course every doctor has memorised the number, and not calling them would be tantamount to treason, but this feels worse. It's my responsibility to help her. Return her to her father. And somehow he knows, with absolute certainty, that that was who the messy-haired man was.
Brown is spouting rubbish. She's not disguised; she's just a humanoid alien.
But he keeps his mouth shut. If he's established as a troublemaker now, it'll be harder to help her. Instead he glances across at a possible ally. He doesn't recognise her, but that doesn't mean anything. She has long ginger hair bound tightly in a schoolgirl plait down her back and silver-framed oval glasses perched on her nose. She's opening her mouth to speak. He inwardly cringes.
Don't blow it, girl.
"Why would you move her to the mortuary?"
Brown performs his glare again. "It is alien. It is dying. There is no way to help it."
She persists. "We should at least try. Perhaps we could communicate with her."
"Where would you begin, Dr…"
"Tyler. Johanna Tyler."
"Where would you begin, Dr Tyler?"
She doesn't answer. Brown resumes his interrupted speech.
"You will all be taken to a secure location for forty-eight hours. We have prepared confidentiality contracts. Your families will be informed."
Bell catches a glimpse of Dr Tyler's blue eyes as she swings round and almost ducks from the anger and disgust in there.
Brown calls them back. "Your IDs please."
She's already left the room. Brown tuts in exasperation.
"Dr Bell, please go after Dr Tyler."
He pulls the door open and steps through.
The guard is unconscious on the floor.
On one side, her back to him, is Dr Tyler.
On the other side of the guard stand the messy-haired man and a black haired man.
The black haired man's eyes widen slightly upon seeing him and Dr Tyler swings round.
"Dr Tyler, they want our IDs." She gives him a cursory nod and pushes back past him.
"Glad to see you, sir." He doesn't know why he called him sir. After all, he must be at least twenty years younger. He just seems to exude an air of authority.
He walks back into the room and joins the queue to hand in their IDs. Dr Tyler is directly in front of him. They're the last two in the queue; therefore he is the only one to notice, as they pass the girl, that she presses something behind the girl's ear and pockets the bagged belongings.
She deposits her ID card in Brown's hand and has just turned her back by the time he shouts "This is blank!"
She moves so fast no one is sure what happens.
But a few seconds later the blank ID, the girl and Dr Tyler are missing. And they are left behind. In a locked room, the bodyguards discover as they bounce off the door.
xxx
The Tardis had landed in a hospital storage cupboard. Jack grabs a white coat. The Doctor doesn't. The door's locked, but it might as well not be, for all the resistance it puts up to the sonic screwdriver.
They emerge from the corridor cautiously. The corridor is deserted.
"Right and up." Jack reads off his wrist device.
They emerge from the stairwell cautiously. The corridor is deserted.
"Up again."
They emerge from the stairwell cautiously. The corridor is deserted.
They encounter their first guard around the corner.
"Stop!" He's holding a small but extremely functional-looking revolver.
"Hello," the Doctor ventures.
"ID," the guard barks. Obviously he doesn't believe in wasting time and effort forming full sentences.
The Doctor slowly reaches into his coat. The guard cocks his pistol. The Doctor hands the psychic paper over, grinning widely to show he means no harm.
"I'm Doctor John Tyler and this is Doctor Jack Har…" Jack shakes his head slowly, "…tnell."
The guard holds the paper up, scowling.
"This is blank."
"Distraction?" the Doctor whispers out of the corner of his mouth.
"No time. Bye," Jack nods towards the guard. His finger is tightening on his trigger.
Bye. Sorry Romana. Sorry Jack. Sorry Jackie. Sorry Rose. Sorry Matthew. Sorry to 900 years of regrets.
Then the guard topples sideways.
"You again!"
"Me again," the redhead agrees.
"That was quite some distraction."
She shrugs. "I learned from a master."
"Like the glasses," Jack grins.
She scowls. "I hate them. I try not to wear them."
The door opens and a grey haired man comes out.
"Dr Tyler, they want to collect our IDs." The woman pushes past him back into the room. The man pauses and turns back. "Glad to see you, sir."
The Doctor and Jack stare after him.
Ten seconds later, the woman comes flying out of the door, Romana in her arms. She slams the door and hunches over it for a second or two. Then she's hurtling past them, with only a "Come on!" thrown over her shoulder.
The Doctor and Jack look after her, look at each other, shrug and run after her.
"I'm not needed then? I'll just leave you to effect all the rescues. I'm redundant."
"Stop sulking." They throw themselves down the stairs as alarms start sounding. Large men block the bottom. They turn to go back and find identical slabs of muscle blocking the top.
"And I wouldn't say redundant exactly." She continues, rescuing her slipping glasses and placing them in a pocket. "Seeing as your Tardis is the only hope of getting any of us out alive."
"We've got to get to it first! I didn't park it here invisibly, you know!"
"How far?"
The Hulks are advancing menacingly.
"About six foot." The Doctor measures the distance by eye.
"To the Tardis!"
"Oh, down two and right a bit. We should have taken the lift."
Different time, different place, different people. But a similar scenario.
We're trapped between two advancing armies. What did I do? I must have been in this situation before.
Jack yanks out his sonic blaster and vaporises the step they're all huddled on.
They fall in an awkward tangle of limbs- in fixing the hole Jack manages to hit the Doctor in the face- and impact on the staircase below, tumbling down rather painfully.
It takes them precious seconds to disentangle themselves, curled together in a protective ball around Romana.
"Doctor, you okay?" Jack asks.
"Could've used a warning," the Doctor grumbles.
"Oh, the gratitude," they smile rather sadly.
"Enough reminiscing, come on!" She's already getting up.
It's a good job the corridor is empty of guards, as they set off at a stumbling, limping run. They can hear them thundering down the stairs though.
"Where did they come from?"
"Must have been shirking their duties with a coffee. Good job we didn't land in the middle of them."
"I've walked into a room of soldiers before. Not that bad."
They arrive at the cupboard. The Doctor unlocks it and they all bundle through just as the first Hulks belt down the corridor.
"Where to?"
"A block or so away from the hospital will do nicely, thanks."
The Doctor sets the co-ordinates and Jack takes Romana from the woman.
"I'll take her to the med-bay."
The woman sinks gratefully to the floor. "I had such a headache."
The Doctor faces her. "Who are you? That man called you Dr Tyler. Why do you use that name? How did you know about my Tardis? How did you know what we were talking about? How do you know so much about us? Why do you do this?"
The Tardis settles and she staggers to her feet. She walks up to the Doctor, presses Romana's bagged belongings into his hands and moves over to the door.
At the door she turns back.
"I have a rather vested interest in her well-being."
Before he can question her further, she's disappeared.
xxx
"How is she?"
Jack's look says it all.
"Do you have any more of these patches?"
"What patches?"
Jack gently turns Romana's head to the side and pushes her hair back. There's a small square in the hollow behind her ear.
"As far as I can make out, this is releasing chemicals that are fighting the bad chemicals. But it's working slowly." His next, unspoken words hang in the air. Perhaps too slowly.
The Doctor walks over to a cupboard and pulls it open. There is only one box inside. A very dusty box sitting at the front of the shelf at his eye level. He gives his silent thanks to the Tardis and brings it over to Jack. There are five patches inside.
"Only five?"
"We'll have to position them carefully."
They place patches behind her other ear, on her throat over the carotid artery, and on the underside of her wrists.
"Where should we put the last?" After all, the Doctor's the expert on Gallifreyan/human physiology.
"Put it back. We'll use it if we have to."
Jack nods his understanding and places the box back in the cupboard.
"Could use some nanogenes."
"I can't lose her. Even when you two demolish the kitchen, even when she throws a tantrum over something completely ridiculous…oh God, Jack.I can't lose her." He's barely aware that his voice has become the low growl of someone teetering on the knife edge of control.
"I thought she could regenerate."
The Doctor takes a deep breath. Suddenly he looks his age. "Oh, she can…theoretically she can…but under these circumstances…it might be too much. Her body might just shut down." He sinks into a chair next to Romana's bed.
"Regeneration, for me, has always been an intensely painful experience; the only alternative to death. I think it's something to do with being half human; the other Time Lords always seemed much more in control of the whole thing."
Jack's mouth is open in amazement. Half-human?
"Romana is three quarters human. I wasn't even sure if she would be able to regenerate. Technically she can, but it's likely to be exceedingly painful. And she's five years old. Even if she does survive regeneration, there's the problem of a body. What if she regenerated into an adult body? A five year old mind trapped in an adult body. Admittedly an intelligent five year old but still. Could I condemn her to that life? Might it be better for her to die?" He looks at her. She looks so vulnerable. Not a trace of her strong will or quick temper. She's just lying there, helpless. "I just don't know."
Jack draws up a chair and sits down next to the Doctor.
"She'll be alright. She's a tough little cookie."
The phrase sounds odd in Jack's mouth. They can both imagine Romana's reaction to being called that by Jack.
"So we just sit here?" Romana's not the only helpless one.
"Yes. We wait…and hope."
Neither takes their eyes from the small body.
A/N: There was something I had to say…something important….I know….PLEASE REVIEW!