"What are you?"
The thing lifts up Jessica's open empty hands, a mockery of surrender. "I'm just visiting."
"Well, you're not welcome about my Tardis, get out."
"Silly doctor," it grins back at me, through Jessica's teeth, and taps the side of Jessica's head with one of Jessica's fingers. "I'm visiting here."
Jessica's mind. This, actually, has turned out to be a rather useful exercise. It was only lately that we stopped calling Jessica 'Little Ghost' and gave her her real name, and I was having huge trouble getting used to it, but if I don't pick it up now there'd have to be something wrong.
Because I haven't spoken, the thing, whatever it is, goes on. "I must say it's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a little warning. You might have been dressed for the occasion."
"Oh, it's an occasion, is it?" I balk, and I pull my dressing gown tighter. Can't help it. She's looking at me, and whatever it is, it still looks like Jessica. It's still the long messy hair that jumps behind when she tosses Jessica's head.
"Ah, it depends how you look at-" It breaks off their in a fit of dry coughing, gasping and holding Jessica's throat. "Good God, it's all rusty in here. That's what happens, see? All this fine equipment, just lying in here, out of use. Official motto of the human body; use it or lose it." It stops to choke again. I'm back on my feet, and moving towards the door. It makes no move to follow, barely seems to notice. It lounges out on the rug instead, stretching. "See, Doctor, it must not say a single word. If they hear its voice, they will know it always, and they will hear it across all the galaxies and the stars."
Which stops me. I had been about to knock for River again, whatever good that may or may not do. But what it just said sounds exactly like the previous two rules. I look up and it lifts Jessica's head up from the floor. "Well? That was what you wanted to know, wasn't it?"
"No. What I want to know is who you are and where you came from and who sent you and why you're here."
"One question at a time, Doctor. Why don't we trade? Quid pro quo. You ask one, then I'll ask one. All fair and democratic and even-steven, like you like." This is not a good idea. This is never a good idea. I am locked in a room with an unknown psychic presence inhabiting a person who already had a number of psycho- and sociopathic tendencies and no way of defending myself. There is no way I can trust a word that this presence says, or rather uses Jessica to hoarsely croak at me. In addition, no response. "Oh, your friends are fine. They're asleep, but it's totally non-toxic. No side-effects."
"I don't believe you."
"It's chlorinol-oxytocin, if the detail helps. The other thing is that, actually, while I'm in a mind with no idea of what lying is, never mind how to do it convincingly, that's me pretty much toasted in terms of making stuff up."
It sits up on the carpet, still rubbing Jessica's raw throat, rolls her head around her neck until it crackles. Adjusting itself to a new home. A temporary home too, that is, I'll see to it. I was just about getting used to Jessica how she is, without her ending up possessed or what have you. I'm not doing possessions again, by the way, I'm not standing for it. We've been here before and it wasn't nice. Rose was all mean and Cassandraish. And then I was all mean and Cassandraish and then I felt all sticky and nasty afterward. Jessica, for all her sins, is having a rough enough day without this.
I can't believe a single word this thing says.
"Well," I tell it, "so long as I'm not going anywhere." I sit down, comfortably, so that it may begin, and lean forward to it. "Let's chat, you and I." There is a moment's pause, a moment's distance. The presence reaches deep into Jessica's mind and finds something, somewhere. A beautiful moment or something she saw, moonlight through smoke or a fireside on a winter's night, and smiles. Not the cold, horrible smile that first alerted me to its presence, but a smile I know to be Jessica's, wonderfully real. "Stop that," I say, and it goes, quicker than it appeared.
"One condition," it says, holding up one finger. Then it looks at that finger, studying the gesture from outside and mutters, "Stop that." Slaps it down, to keep the mute from leaking through. "You can only ask a question of one of us or the other."
"'One of us'?" If I'm here and my friends are sleeping, what's it talking about?
"Yeah. Me or Designated-Jessica-Apple. I know what she knows, Doctor. I can answer anything."
This is so much less than a good idea it's not even really a bad idea anymore. It's a diabolical idea. But the thing is, underneath all this, I have another idea, which might work out a little bit better. It's going to take time, though, and I don't know how much of that I have.
Chlorinol-oxytocin would be fine. They'd all sleep peacefully and have pleasant dreams and wake up with the distinct desire to hug each other, no leftovers bar a little natural sleepiness. And it was both perfected and very popular in the thirty-second century, so that would help me place this stranger too.
Thing is, I'm not out there. I don't know it's chlorinol-oxytocin. Jessica's smile might have been tucked away in some dusty old cupboard, but her poker face is as natural to her as her mask was.
"Fine," I say eventually. "One condition. Quid pro quo, after all. You scratch my back, I get to claw at yours." It shrugs, smiles its own vicious smile again. "I can only presume that if you were, somehow, heavens forfend and oh my dear but forgive even the implication, to lie to me, that something of that concept, that ability, would be left behind in the mind of Jessica Apple."
"Theoretically," it agrees.
"Know that if that happens I will hunt you down in whatever obscure little niche there is on this universe, should you inhabit a pig on Parthenon, I will find you, and there will be consequences. That is my condition."
So it laughs again. Its own laugh. It climbs up from the floor and slips onto the sofa next to me, stretches out and puts Jessica's hand on my arm. "Why would I lie to you, Doctor? Not when I do so want us to be friends."
Oh, it's good. Wherever the people who sent it found it, it's very good. I let its hand lie where it is and try to smile back.
"Question number one, who are you?"
"That's an easy one. I told you that already. I'm your Visitor."