6
Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good time on an investigation. Ianto's body was hot as it moved against his own, pulsing with the beat of the music. If they were lucky, tonight they'd be able to find some time to do something about the heat between them; if they didn't Jack was sure that he, for one, would go a little crazy. But for the moment dancing-vertically-was a fairly good substitute. Off to the left he could see the Doctor's kids. The Doctor's kids. He never thought he'd say those words, even in the privacy of his own head. They were dancing, grinning at each other. It was amazing to see the change in the Doctor, now that he had these two. He'd been broken, ever since he lost Rose. But now, the ragged edges seemed to be smoothing out in him. He hadn't seen that partly-hidden pain in the Time Lord's eyes. Anxiety, yes, as well as anger bordering on Oncoming-Storm intensity. But that terrible emptiness was gone. These girls had taken it out, he thought as he watched them.
The change came on suddenly; Jack saw it in the girl's eyes before they froze, before they stopped dancing. Shock flashed out of them like electricity, fear sharp behind it. He didn't like it bandied around, but he was a bit of an empath in his own right. And he could feel their emotions like a kick in the gut. He pushed through the throng. The Walker had a hand pressed to her temple by the time he got to them, and Jenny stared with eyes that were suddenly huge.
"What's wrong?" he demanded. Jenny looked up at him sharply.
"It's Father. I can't feel him. Can't feel him anywhere."
"Nor I." the Walker said, her voice distant. "Something's wrong."
"Maybe he stepped outside." Ianto suggested, walking up to stand beside him. Jenny shook her head.
"No, that isn't nearly far enough. I can communicate with him at a distance of eight miles, feel him way further than that, and Walker's better than me. The only time I can't feel him is when he's…"
"Unconscious." The Walker said quietly. "When he's unconscious." Carefully, the older girl placed a hand on each temple, looking a little like a nineteenth-century sideshow psychic.
"He's here…somewhere…but he-he's definitely incapacitated. I can only just feel him."
"Where?" Jenny demanded. The girl closed her dark eyes. Then she shook her head.
"Impossible to tell. It's just the barest sense; I can't get a grip on it. How could he-"
"Catwalks." Jack's jaw tensed. "He said he was going up onto the catwalks."
Jenny looked up, and spat a few indecipherable words. "He must've fallen. He can't have fallen on one of the dance floors; it would've caused a disturbance." She turned on her heel to face Jack. "We need a schematic of this building. How many auxiliary rooms are there?"
The force and controlled panic in her voice pushed Jack into popping open his wrist unit, punching in the address and bringing up a 3-d floorplan on the screen.
"There are six around the building, two behind each of the inner walls."
"Then we'll split up." Jenny shot back, "Everybody take a room, contact the others if you find him. We've got to hurry. He's vulnerable when he's unconscious. He can't protect himself, and the time worm will sense him fast. We've got to move."
Without waiting for a reply, Jenny turned on her heel and sprinted away.
For a moment, Jack watched her dash into the crowd. "Yes, ma'am."
Then he glanced at the others.
"Well, you heard her. Get moving. Find Gwen and tell her. And like she said; hurry."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Blackness. Floating. Dark. So quiet. So very dark.
Or not. Not so dark. The paths gave light. They glowed.
He was standing on a path that shone, bright beneath his feet. Ahead of him it branched into four paths, trails that wound and forked as far as he could see.
The paths were important. He knew that, though he wasn't sure why.
Glancing behind him, he saw more roads of light, some bright, some dim. Then he remembered. They were roads he had taken, roads he hadn't. Choices he'd made.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He knew that. Not very long, anyway. One of these roads would take him out. Take him back.
Which one?
He needed to choose.
Choices. Always choices.
He walked down the row of paths. Voices echoed down them, memories of what might be.
"I found him! Second room on the right! Get in here!"
"Father, wake up! Come on!"
The next path gave other words.
"Stand back! Wait until the energy's gone."
"I must say, Grandfather, this new regeneration is…"
And then:
"Fraid my arm's broke."
"Damn, are you insane or just a…"
The fourth path was the dimmest, and the voices that came down it made him draw away.
"It can't be. It was just a fall. Just a little fall."
He walked up and down, straining, listening.
"If you don't wake up…I'll kiss Jack!"
"One more trip?"
"Very well, one more. But…"
"That was my home. In all my life, I've never lived another place at all."
"Today you're going to see the kings and queens of the Universe go to war."
"Give us a song for the battle, then."
Power. So much power. So many paths branching off that way. So many choices, so many actions and thousands of timelines tying into them, enough to dazzle him.
…
"This damn cast is a real…"
"Great. Just great."
"See? Useful. If it had bit skin I'd have lost this arm"
…
"Always nice, a bit of a change."
"Drums. Can't you hear the drums?"
"I can't believe I'm actually doing this."
…
"I can't go on alone."
"The Doctor was one of…"
Sobbing.
…
The first path. It glowed brightly, drawing him. And yet he was pulled. Pulled away, back towards the dimmest road.
He shook his head. He didn't want to go that way.
The pull grew stronger, became an incessant tug. He pushed against it. Unease trickled through the peace that ensconced him. He pulled back, stepped away.
"No."
He had to fight to stay in place.
"No!"
Now he was angry. He would not be made to walk a road he didn't choose. The pull grew stronger, stronger, but he fought his way back from the dark. Almost, almost…
There was another tug, vicious, painful, dragging him back towards the path that rang with sobs. He cried out, fighting back with everything he had left.
"NO!"
Then he stumbled, nearly fell back as the pull dissipated.
Free.
He took a step.
The bright path waited.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Jenny pulled a flashlight from her satchel on the run, dodging between dancers. She gave the first door a shove, slamming it open as she barreled in. He had to be in here. Had to. She kicked a box aside as she pushed into the room, searching for fawn fabric or dark hair. Her senses were straining to their peak. But nothing. She shone the light in every conceivable corner of the room. Father was a tall man. Damn it, he ought to be pretty easy to see if he was here. He wasn't. She turned on her heel, skidding out on the dance floor. Next room. Get into the next room.
The door banged open with enough force to dent the wall. Jenny flashed the light in efficient arcs, searching as she moved. The light played over decorations spilling from boxes, amplifiers and speakers, wall and ceiling-mounted lights detached from their moorings.
Something knocked in the dark, bringing Jenny's senses to such a peak that her ears ached with strain. There was a sound, just beyond the reach of her flashlight. Like tapping fingernails.
Or like legs.
Time Worm. Jenny drew her weapon, every muscle tense, every sense alert. She could almost feel it. The wrongness in its presence, the way it twisted the world up around itself.
She stepped forward.
In a rustle of clicking and scuttling, the sounds of its passage flickered by on her right side. Jenny got off two wild shots in the half light. But the clicking faded into the sound of the music outside. Goddamn. It had gotten out.
But why had it been in here? Because Father was in here? If it had gotten to him… Jenny turned sharply. She had to hurry. Search vector over the entire room. Her eyes flashed over everything, every detail. Wires. Light poles. Old instruments. Cleaning supplies. She had to find him. A flash of white. Just a sheet. Damn. Her free hand balled into a fist so tight that her knuckles cracked. Why couldn't she feel him?
Calm. Father had told her that. Telepathic ability was strongest when the mind was calm. If she wanted to feel him, she had to get a hold of herself.
Jenny closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached out.
Father. Are you here?
Father.
Father.
Where are you?
There. Her eyes flashed open. Something. Not much. But something. Back in action, she shoved between boxes. Light bulbs. A mop. Decorations. A hand.
A hand.
Jenny leapt the intervening space, clambering up on boxes to get a better view.
Her father was sprawled over three boxes, his head resting on an amplifier. Though his face was bone white, his chest rose and fell. She breathed out. He was alive. She yanked out her radio.
"I found him! Second room on the right! Get in here!"
Then she turned back to her father. First aid. Fall; cranial damage. Check for contusions. Carefully, Jenny ran her hands over her father's head. She steadied herself against the amplifier with one hand. Then her brow furrowed distractedly.
Why's this equipment wet? She glanced at her hand. Red. It was red.
"Shix." Jenny hissed. Carefully, she reached her fingers around the back of her father's head. It was wet.
"Shix!"
"Jenny!"
"Back here!" she called out. "We're back here!"
She barely looked up as the others gathered around her and the Doctor.
"He's alive. Unconscious but alive." She said shortly. "Posterior cranial damage with skin abrasion. He needs first aid immediately."
"We can't move him with that head wound." The Walker said, dropping down beside the Doctor on the boxes. "We need to wait for him to heal enough to wake or-well, regenerate if he's going to." She placed a hand on his forehead, closing her eyes.
"He's not." Jenny said, and hoped that the authority in her voice forced it to be true. He only had two regenerations left. He wasn't going to waste one on a little fall if she could bloody well help it.
Turning back to lean over her father, she called to him. Maybe he'd hear her.
"Father, wake up! Come on!"
Waiting was hell. She hated-absolutely, deeply, truly-hated waiting. They staunched the bleeding with a cloth from her satchel. But he wasn't waking up. Why wasn't he waking up? She paced up and down the small space, hands clenched. She needed to calm down. But she couldn't make herself relax. She needed to do something. But what could she do?
She leaned against a wall, hands digging into the skin of her arms. She was so deep in her thoughts that she barely noticed Gwen step up beside her.
"How is he?"
"He's sustained post-occipital cranial damage, possible hemohemmorage, and deep lacerations." Jenny reported. "Other than that, I don't know. The Walker's trying to help his body do the necessary repairs and revive him." At least that sounded more hopeful than 'we just have to wait and find out.'
Beside her, Gwen nodded. After a moment, she shifted uncomfortably where she stood.
"You know, what you said earlier, maybe I was too hard on 'im. I'm sorry for that."
Jenny nodded, but said nothing. She didn't want to answer. She didn't want a conversation, not now, not when her father lay there like that.
After a moment, Gwen spoke again.
"It's been hard, these last couple of months. It's been bloody hard. Sometimes I feel like…well, my temper's been gettin' the best of me. Sometimes I forget…that there's a reason I'm here, an' all. An' I just wanted to say, I thought about it, an'…well, thanks. Thanks for knockin' me back on the right track." With an awkward nod, she stepped away. Jenny glanced after her. Humans. So much drama.
Half an hour had gone by now. Music blared. His color was better, but he was still unconscious. The Walker's brow was beaded with sweat, her eyes still closed. Jenny growled deep in her throat. She had to do something or she'd go lunatic.
Turning on her heel, she stepped up on the box.
"Father." She said loudly, "If you don't wake up… I'll kiss Jack!"
A trickle shivered through her head. Tiny. Almost nothing.
Warmth. Just a little.
Then a swirl of blue and gold behind her eyes.
And a voice.
Don't…
Don't…
Don't………you…dare…
Jenny's eyes widened. The link was weak, weak still, but it was growing stronger and stronger. Beside her, the Walker cried out, making the Torchwood members jump and stare.
"Grandfather!"
It was another two minutes before his eyes flickered, then opened. The Doctor started to sit up, and grimaced.
"Ooh…ah! What'd I crack my head on?"
Jenny almost laughed in relief. "An amplifier, Father. You nearly split your skull. Really clumsy."
"Not clumsy." He said sourly, dabbing two fingers to the back of his head. "Bloody time worm. Pulled the cat-ah! Blimey, this aches!"
"Reminds you that you're alive, doesn't it, Doctor?" Jack said, his voice light in relief. The Doctor shook his head, and winced again.
"Not exactly my favorite way to be reminded. Ow!" He flinched away as first the Walker, then Jenny tried to check his wound. Jenny grabbed his shoulder, holding him steady.
"Father, don't be a wimp."
"It bloody hurts, you know! That's flesh back there you're poking at, Jenny. If I give my medical opinion, and I am, by the way, the best qualified here to do that, I'd say that poking at a wound is the least helpful thing you can do to the bloody thing!"
"I'm sure. Just be glad I don't shave your hair to do dermal repair work."
"Shave?!" her father cried in incredulous horror. The thought kept him ranting just long enough for his daughter and granddaughter to finish their assessment. Jenny breathed a sigh of relief, straightening. "It's healing." The Walker nodded her agreement.
"I could've told you that." The Doctor muttered. With another wince, he pushed himself to his feet. He was shaky. Jenny tensed and the Walker stepped forward, ready to catch him. But he stood, after a moment, straight, and stepped down off the boxes.
"It ambushed me." He said, his voice a mix of shock and wounded pride. "Bloody insect ambushed me. I knew they were smart. Oh, are they smart. But not that smart. And then, if you can believe it, the bugger tried to muck up my time lines. Bloody cheek! Kicking a man while he's down. Bad form, really very bad form."
"What did it do?" Jenny asked quickly, apprehension running through her gut. The Doctor waved a hand.
"Not much. There was something about…" He stared off into space for a long moment. Then he shook himself. "Tell you later. Anyway, this has really gone too far. Much longer and one of those bugs is going to start hunting us 'stead of the other way around. New tactic. Need a new tactic. What to do, what to do, what to…" He paced the space around him, oblivious to the watching eyes. One hand raised in his habitual gesture of brushing through his hair. Jenny moved to say something, but her father had already absently ran his hand over the back of his head, and hissed in pain. He leaned against the nearest wall, eyes unfocused, deep in thought. And then his dark eyes grew wide, round as saucers.
"Oh! Of course!" Pushing the door open, he all but ran back out onto the dance floor. He had his idea. Jenny followed him at a jog as they skirted the crowd, crossing the dance floors and through the front door. Jack loped up, his face intense.
"Doctor, what…"
"Think about it." The Doctor said quickly, "What do these time worms live for? Feeding and procreation. That's all they know, all they're designed to do. Feed and do the deed. Food and sex, food and sex, that's all they want, all they ever want. Not so different from humans that way, actually. So you know how we best them?" He turned on his heel, looking at them as he walked backwards with a dangerous half-grin. "We give them what they want."
……………………………………………………………………………………….
The Doctor hummed to himself as he sprayed the next tree with pheromones. They hadn't been nearly as hard to mix up as he thought it'd be. Easy peasy.
Jenny's voice rang through his mind once more, making the back of his head throb.
Father, let me do this next bit. You're too weak still.
No Jenny. I told you; I'm doing this. Now, bit of hush, thanks.
But you-
Final word on this. You do your part, and stay out of the danger zone. That's an order, got me?
He got something like a nasty frown inside his head, then nothing. But at least he could be absolutely sure that she was safe now; she'd never go against a direct order, much as she hated it.
The scent of pheromones was heavy in the air, rank and sweet, wrinkling his nose. If this didn't attract them nothing would. The pheromones would intoxicate their little insectile brains, pulling them to each other. All he had to do was wait. He leaned back on his heels, relaxed, quiet.
The wait wasn't long. He could feel it the minute they stepped a foot inside the park. A slither, a ripple in grass and timelines. And another ripple, from the right this time. The Doctor smiled slightly. They were here. Now he just had to get their attention.
Slowly, he stepped away from the shadows. Then, drawing a breath, he lowered the shielding that was his by training and by blood. The full intricacy and power encased in him was suddenly visible to anyone with eyes to look. And the time worms had sixteen of them.
As one creature, the worms turned. Paused. Then they charged.
The Doctor tipped his head back.
"Now girls!"
