I believe this is the second-to-last chapter! This has been SO MUCH FUN!
So, for those of you who were wondering what would happen with all of that meat they gathered... well, here's your answer. Its moments are numbered.
Let's go out with a bang... if you read, then review, too! ;-)
Chapter 11
Drs. Brennan, Hodgins and Saroyan snuck carefully out of the TARDIS, each armed with a flashlight, and tiptoed into the dimly track-lit area behind where the Police Box was parked. Cam led them down a side hallway where there were public restrooms, snack machines and drinking fountains for the Jeffersonian's thousands of daily visitors.
Normally, this area was lit up with stark fluorescents. At night, they had to make do with the sparse, off-hours safety lighting. It was the best they could do, without putting themselves out-of-range to help if the Doctor and Booth got into trouble. The cafeteria was too dark and the lab was too far away. And any air-tight facilities required passwords and/or security badges.
They crept into the ladies' room, and crouched, so as to make the least amount of surface-area available to any marauding Vashta Nerada. Flashlights were wielded like weapons, constantly sweeping, checking for out-of-place shadows.
Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor unloaded the leftover cache of meats that Hodgins had left in one of the coolers. It was just enough food to leave a trail all the way from the TARDIS' door, up the ramp and then around the console platform.
A call came, assuring the Doctor that Cam and the others were secure, or at least as close as they could get.
The Doctor and Agent Booth stood by the door and took deep breaths.
The Time Lord decided to break the heavy silence. "According to Dr. Saroyan, you're the only person who can change Dr. Brennan's mind."
"Yeah, that's probably true," Booth sighed. "And even I'm not that great at it."
"You succeeded this time," the Doctor smirked. "Got her out of harm's way."
"Yeah. Harm's way."
"Clever, clever."
Booth smirked back. "Well, I know her pretty well. When her sense of self-preservation doesn't get the best of her fear, then you just remind her that cops are a dime a dozen, but Forensic Anthropologists are rare, and she is tops in her field..." he snapped his fingers.
"The only man on Earth who can manipulate one of the great minds of the twenty-first century," the Doctor mused. "Who's the genius, then?"
Booth smiled sheepishly, but said nothing. The Doctor chuckled.
Only a meaningful look and a handshake passed between them then, and the Doctor opened the TARDIS' door, and left it ajar. Booth wheeled out the gurney, carrying the anatomically laid-out bones of a six-foot-tall, Eastern European murder victim wearing the Doctor's blue pin-striped suit and red trainers. He steered it expertly around the trail of meat, and then was careful to veer to the right, so as to stay temporarily out-of-sight of anyone looking through the Jeffersonian's front glass doors.
The Doctor watched as Booth moved gingerly across the ceramic floor, careful not to jostle nor displace the bones. Though, the Doctor suspected, the care he was taking was probably also out of respect for the human remains on the gurney.
When Booth reached the front wall, he said over the radio, "Angela, are we good?"
"Yep," she answered. "I've got the front of the building in view. The shadows there are holding steady."
"What about everywhere else?" asked the Doctor.
"Still slowly encroaching from all sides, Doctor," she said. "Better hurry."
"Right. Got it. Agent Booth?"
"Yeah, I'm ready," answered the FBI Agent with a gulp.
The Doctor, leaving the door of the TARDIS open, pulled the sonic screwdriver from the pocket of the borrowed black trousers he was wearing, and stepped out of sight. He placed his back firmly against the wall of the console room, about five feet from the door. He held the sonic and the walkie-talkie at the ready, took a deep breath, and tried not to hear the dual heartbeat, threatening to pound holes in his chest.
Agent Booth took a deep breath, said another quick prayer, and with his shoulder to the wall, he crept forward toward the glass doors. When he was as close as he could get, he gave a small heave and pushed the gurney forward, straight into the path of the glass doors. The gurney, and the well-dressed skeleton upon it, came to rest squarely in-view of any Vashta Nerada currently on the lookout in front of the Jeffersonian.
"Okay, it's done," Angela said over the radio system. "Booth has put the gurney in front of the doors."
Booth very quickly moved back along the wall, pulling his flashlight from his belt and illuminating his way as he crouched as far away as he could from the doors, the skeleton, the suicide victim's fleshy body, and the trail of meat.
For a long, tense few minutes, no one spoke. There was no word from Angela, nor from the Doctor. Booth just waited in the scariest dark space he had ever seen.
And then, "Okay, they're moving!" Angela shouted. "The shadows are moving toward the glass doors. But... not all the shadows. It seems like they're sending scouts to inspect. Can they do that?"
"They can, and they probably are," the Doctor responded.
"They're pressing right against the glass," she continued. "Okay, now they've paused."
"Are they looking through the glass?" Booth asked.
"I can't tell - it's not like I can see their little eyes. But I would assume so. What else could they be doing?" she asked.
"Can they see the suit? Can they tell?" Sweets asked.
"I don't know, Dr. Sweets," the Doctor replied, hearts still in his throat. "I just don't know."
After another pause, Angela spoke again. "Whoa, now the whole swarm is moving! They're all pressing against the door! I'd say they can definitely tell! They think the Doctor is dead! They're coming in!"
"Are you certain, Angela?" asked the Doctor.
"No, but... are any of us certain of anything at this point?"
"Are they inside the lobby?" Booth wanted to know.
"Yeah! I can see them seeping through the slats between the doors! They're oozing in, you guys! Stay out of sight!"
"Oh my God," Booth moaned, though not through the radio.
"The rest of the shadows are moving faster! The ones coming through the other parts of the museum... they're moving faster now, and they're headed toward the center. Or maybe to the lobby! It's open season on the Jeffersonian, everyone! Booth, get the hell out of there!"
"Where?" he demanded. "Where am I going to go, Angela?"
But she didn't have an answer.
At this point, Booth could see the black swarm gathering on top of and around the skeleton he had placed for them to see. They were inspecting it, one last time, to make sure the Doctor was out-of-the-picture.
"Psychically linked..." he mused to himself. "Did you eat him? No, it wasn't us. Was it you guys? No. Then how did he get dead? We don't know, but here he is..."
He hadn't expected the swarm to scrutinize the skeleton this way; he hoped against hope that the Doctor had been right, that they would not be able to discern the minute anthropological features that would give away the fact that this was not the Doctor's skeleton. He hoped that the blue suit would be enough...
And not for the first time, he was glad that his partner was as meticulous as she was. Otherwise, they might have wound up with a skeleton that was the wrong size, wrong gender, and who knew what else. As it was, they had chosen a slightly-off pelvis and a slightly-too-pronounced brow ridge. What might have happened without Bones?
"Come on, come on," he whispered. "See it! Come on, see it!"
As if on cue, the inky swarm seemed to change direction like a school of fish, and all at once, locked onto the direction of the embalmed body of the suicide victim, laying in plain sight in the lobby of the Jeffersonian.
"What's going on?" the Doctor's voice said over the radio. But Booth and Angela were too stunned to answer.
The swarm seemed to pause, hovering around the body's feet, and just above.
And then all at once, a horrible ripping sound filled the air, and in a flash, all of the flesh had been removed from the body, and only clean white bones remained.
Booth couldn't help himself, and neither could Angela or Sweets. All three could be heard crying out expletives.
"Shhh!" the Doctor scolded with a loud, harsh whisper. "Agent Booth, you're going to give away your position!"
And then, as Booth watched, something seemed to happen to the swarm.
"What the hell?" Booth whispered into the radio.
"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked.
"Oh, that's weird!" Angela said. "Doctor, it's like they're... swirling. Oscillating."
"That'll be the psilocybin," the Doctor reported. "This is what's supposed to happen."
"They ate the body, paused, then went all... stoned," she commented. "Oh, you know sometimes I freaking hate my job, but this is not one of those times."
No sooner had she made this comment than there was another terrible ripping sound, cutting across the lobby and coming over the radio. She and Booth saw the trail of meat leading to the TARDIS basically simply disappear before their eyes.
"Munchies!" Angela cried.
"What the hell?" Booth had whispered into the radio.
"What's wrong?" the Doctor had asked.
Then Angela had described the strange "swirling... oscillating" of the psilocybin-laced swarm of Vashta Nerada.
He was dying to peek, look for himself and see what sort of psychedelic effect the magic mushrooms had had on the carnivorous shadows, but he dared not. He knew, as Angela pointed out, that they were only pausing for a moment in their stony haze. The plan was for them to follow the trail of meat all the way into the TARDIS, and he most certainly didn't want to be standing right in the doorway when that happened.
Case in point, a few seconds later, the Vashta Nerada's signature flesh-consuming rip filled the air outside, and Angela aptly cried out, "Munchies!"
And indeed, only another second and a half passed before all of the meat on the trail into the TARDIS had disappeared as well, leaving only shredded wrappers and boxes behind. Suddenly, the Time Rotor went dark.
The Doctor's eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open. "Wha..." He started to step forward, to investigate.
Then Angela's voice crackled across the radio again. "Doctor, the rest of the shadows are doing the same thing... they've gone all Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, and they're coming. Fast, now! Swirly, whirly and fast! Heads up!"
The Doctor glued himself once more to the wall of the TARDIS and waited only another ten seconds before a hissing mass of charcoal grey swept in through the TARDIS' door, just as Angela had described: swirly.
Almost in a curly queue, like smoke wafting in a cartoon, they rushed into the console room, and darkened the Time Rotor even further.
"Light-headed, stoned and attracted to shiny things," the Doctor muttered to himself. "Angela, do you see anymore shadows moving anywhere in the museum?"
There was a short pause, and then, "No! They're gone!"
"Outside?"
"No, the surrounding swarms all came in with that last batch!" she said excitedly. "How did you do that?"
"Remember, they think as one," he reminded her, trying not to make noise or move. "Psychic field. When a few of them get felled by mind-altering drugs, guess what happens."
"Wicked!" said Sweets over the radio. "Doctor, that's brilliant!"
"Not bad for a delusional non-sociopath, eh?" the Doctor chuckled, not able to help himself.
"Doctor do you need help?" Booth asked.
"No, Agent Booth, don't you dare move until I'm safely gone!" the Doctor commanded.
"What if..." Booth started to protest.
But the Doctor tossed the radio to the side. Then, employing a trick he had learned while running-in with the Vashta Nerada last time, he snapped his fingers, and the TARDIS door slammed shut. He flicked the index finger of his other hand, and the sonic screwdriver buzzed, activating the spatial displacement circuits of the TARDIS.
Internally, he was glad they didn't need to travel in time, as the Time Rotor was being strangled by a dense, black swarm at the moment. He also thanked an unseen force for not letting any of the swarm loose within the inner reaches of the TARDIS to feed on Rose's grey cat or the white horse named Arthur.
Nevertheless, the Rotor must have been able to pulse a bit, because the swarm surrounding it went a bit shiny and swirly again, oscillating again. He smiled.
Although, he still tried very hard not to move as the TARDIS' gears crescendoed and he felt the vessel move. When the pre-programmed coordinates were reached, the ship stopped and the gears died down. The Doctor once more opened the doors with a snap of his fingers, taking a careful, quick glance outside.
He whispered the name of the planet to himself, and smiled. "Viandi," he said.