"I said no," the Doctor sighs.
"Oh, come on, it's a sapphire waterfall! A jewel the size of a glacier, cliffs of oblivion, crystal ravine, it'll be fantastic!" John bounces excitedly.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," the Doctor smirks at him with a sly brow.
"Please, Doctor, they're boarding, and I don't wanna go by myself," John begins to pout. He widens his eyes, hoping he can make them even more doe-brown by wishing it.
"John, this trip if for us to relax." The Doctor takes a hand and whisks it down his arm. He rather took to the brown pinstripes from their trip to the 20's. "If you want to go learn about extonic sunlight radiation on a diamond planet called Midnight that's fine. However, I will be here, waiting for you to return, by the lounge pool."
"Fine, I'll be back for dinner," John concedes, thinking the Doctor really should have some time to just sit back and sunbathe. "We can try that antigravity restaurant."
"It's a date," the Doctor decrees rather quick. She can hear John's smirk so loudly she blushes pink. "Well, not a date-date, but a—oh, you know what I mean, get off."
"See you later," John smiles and bounces his brows.
"Oi," the Doctor takes John by the lapels for just a second more. "And you be careful, all right?"
"What could possibly go wrong," John jokes, but thinks a second later that he has probably jinxed himself.
The Doctor, in a fluffy white robe and sandals issued by the spa, gets on her toes. She leaves a sweet peck of a kiss on John's lips, eyes dancing. "Be safe."
John's beaming at her is interrupted by the stewardess calling for all passengers. He sneaks another kiss from her and dashes towards the shuttle. Over his shoulder: "I will!—love you!"
"Name?" asks the stewardess.
"John, John Smith," he smiles. The woman looks un-amused and he sobers a bit. "I know, but I'm not kidding, my name really is John Smith."
"Right, please, take your seat," the hostess rolls her eyes as John bounds happily onto the shuttle. She can see the woman with whom he was speaking on the platform, watching with hands clenched over her heart. The hostess smiles a little; how hopeless new love can be for people. The woman looks dazed and hopelessly yearning for the man who reminds the hostess a bit of a hyper chocolate lab puppy. Even if his enthusiasm is taxing, he still might be the nicest of the bunch. He just sits there and smiles as she hands him all things complimentary. "Enjoy your trip."
"Oh, I can't wait: allons-y!" John quips his usual motto. When the woman looks at him doubtfully again he shrugs. "It's French for let's go."
"I'm sure your wife loves that," the stewardess mutters under her breath.
John bubbles in his seat with a smile so wide it's hurting his cheeks. He's excited to see this sapphire waterfall, and to stretch his wings solo, and most of all that he got two kisses before he left! "Oh, she does."
"Professor Winfold Hobbes," a man behind John outstretches a hand.
"I'm John, hello," he smiles back. He goes to greet the woman to the Professor's left but the bespectacled man speaks again.
"It's my fourteenth time," he brags.
"Oh, my first," John raises his eyebrows.
"And I'm Dee Dee—Blasco," the sweet woman pipes up, offering a hand and a smile.
"Don't bother the man," the Professor chides her and sits them both back down.
John sits back in his seat, feeling insulted on behalf of Dee Dee but continuing in his observation. He makes eye contact with a edgy blond woman, who rolls her eyes away from him. In the back he can hear an outspoken woman. She and her equally brutish husband are trying to coax a dark haired young man over to them. He ignores, sticking headphones in with his black, nail varnished hands. John remembers when he was all broody like that when he was a teen.
The Hostess speaks up, drawing their attention to the front of the cabin. Shields are put down, doors are air-sealed and locked. Driver Joe, through the intercom, announces that they will be going off the beaten path; just a slight detour. A rattling begins as the Crusader 50 starts off, but it is soon drowned out by a horrible ruckus. There's music blaring through the room with blinding projections and annoying cartoons.
John shares exasperated looks with the blond woman and sighs, resigning himself. Maybe the Doctor was right not to come along. He wishes she were here. Maybe she could hold his hand, use that touch-telepathy of hers. He wishes he had the…wait. John slides his hand into his inside pocket, nice and slow. Long ago did he determine that the Doctor made them bigger on the inside with her alien technology doodads. Sure enough, he finds the Sonic, nestled away. He pulls it out discreetly. He could guess she trusts him with it, but he thought the time he used it in Pompeii was a fluke. Possibly just to prove him wrong the Sonic extends its glowing head and buzzes. The screens and speakers all ascend back into their ceiling pockets. John smiles at the blond, who finally smiles back.
"Ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereupon, I apologize," the hostess rushes to the front of the cabin in a bluster.
John feels a little bad for making her job harder but he couldn't have endured that racket. Not that he thinks he can endure sitting in silence for four hours any better. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, hoping that maybe if he has a little nap he can at least dream about the Doctor.
The Doctor is laid by the Leisure Palace pool. There's no one else around, but he guesses she's probably in some alien section or something. She's wearing that white robe, that he thinks is quite cute on her, with her fiery ponytail coiled in the hood, freckles making a contrast against the white. She seems contented enough, breaking evenly, absorbing the dampened extonic rays with what looks like a strawberry drink beside her. Waiters stand about, all looking very professional about attending to her every need. As they should, John thinks.
'I wonder how John is doing," her voice in her head also echoes in his. 'More importantly, what was it he shouted at me before he took off?'
John feels his heart sink; surely she had heard him.
'He couldn't have said he loved me, he couldn't have,' the Doctor berates herself in her mind not-quite-privately.
Sure I could have, John protests within his own thoughts.
'Good kisser, though," the Doctor lets a contented sigh escape her lips before turning over on her lounge chair to purr her way into sleep.
John opens his eyes and blinks intensely. What was that? He glances at the Sonic in his hand and wonders if it has something to do with his vaguely telepathic connection to her. It existed in The Library but now he can hear her thoughts. That's different, he cocks his head. The blond from before is still reading her book, although now that he thinks about it she hasn't turned a page in an awfully long time. "Excuse me, I'm kind of lonely over here, would you mind, terribly?"
The blond woman looks at John with a mix of nervous trepidation and impatient disdain. Nonetheless she stuffs her book in her purse and nods him over. "Might as well, seeing as it's only going to get more tedious from here."
"I can't wait," John smiles at her. She seems so sad, and so tired. "I'm John Smith."
"Sky," the woman smiles back slightly. "You here alone?"
"No, I'm here with my friend, the Doctor," John pauses in his own head, thinking how strange it must sound that he, John Smith, is travelling with someone named the Doctor. "She stayed at the Leisure Palace; you?"
"No, it's just me," Sky answered back shortly.
"I've had my fair share of that too," John purses his lips, "so has the Doctor."
"I've found myself single rather recently, not by choice." Sky readjusts herself in her seat. "She needed her own space, as they say. A different galaxy, in fact. I reckon that's enough space, don't you?"
"Yeah," John nods with no other ideas of action; "I have a friend in a different universe."
"Oh," Sky looks at John oddly.
"Long story, I don't get to see her a lot," John opens his in-flight meal with a sigh but decides to smile, for Sky's sake. "Still, she's happy, and well. She's got a beautiful baby boy, and a fiance, now."
Sky, maybe picking up on John's efforts, maybe not, smiles anyway. She goes to her own meal with displeasure. "Oh, well, what's this, chicken or beef?"
"I think it's both," John examines the chunk of meat on his fork carefully. He sniffs it before actually popping it into his mouth. Oh, now that is wretched. While spitting it into his napkin he thinks to remember to ask the Doctor whether or not the invention of chick-beef is a fixed point.
"I'm not even going to try it," Sky decides after watching John turn pink, then red, then purple, then green. "Are you all right?"
"Brilliant," John chokes a bit. He downs the fake tasting juice in a hurry. He shoves the tray away from him and into the waste receptacle, as if it might bite him. Sky does the same when a rumbling alerts them. "What was that?"
John feels something wisp through his mind, like a specter. He visualizes the smoke that comes off a match when you wave it through the air. It's cold, and mysterious, like a whisper touching his mind.
"Something is wrong," Sky mumbles. She looks around, on a feasible path. "Something is out there."
John frowns at Sky but listens to the hostess declare that they've stopped. He can hear something, though, in his mind. It's like a single voice made of a thousand whispers. At glancing towards Sky he thinks she might hear it too, poor, frightened woman.
Clang-clang raps against the metal walls of the shuttle. Now everyone heard that, John grumbles in his head as he pulls out the Sonic.
"What was that?" asks the tetchy woman from the family in the back.
"It must be the metal," says the professor, "we're cooling down. It's just settling."
John doesn't believe him, though, and neither does Sky, from the way she watches the walls like him. Their eyes follow a path together. It's as if the whispering, as it rolls over the structure like mist, leaves a white hot burning in its wake. What is it? Is it fire?—flame is weirdly unstructured, neither gas nor liquid nor solid. It doesn't really have a form, and neither does this. That's just its effect, though, John corrects his thoughts, because fire can't whisper in your head.
Clang-clang is heard again, at a different point. There is a moment in which people are silent, waiting for it. John stands and moves around the cabin. He can sense this thing's movement, as it pulls his thoughts towards itself. It's moving, and thinking.
"It is impossible for any living thing to be out there," says the professor.
What if it's not living? John ignores the stubborn academic as he persists. He feels the thing move again and looks towards the door. Sky looks towards him for answers.
"What is it?" she asks John in a teary whisper.
"I don't know," John flinches as the door handle outside clanks with movement. Everyone is sent into a panic but he keeps watching. What does this thing want? If it doesn't have a body how can it make physical contact with things?
"It can't get through there." The father of the boulshy family steps up to the door. He places a palm on it and knocks three times. "That door's made of cast iron."
"It's on 200 weight hydrolics," Dee Dee ads properly.
Clang-clang-clang answers the thing. It's a sinister sound, both mocking and inviting, in a devilish way. The whispers become louder and harsher in John's head—in everyone's.
"Did you hear that?"
"It did it three times!"
"It answered him!"
John hears the people's frantic shouts but all he can concentrate on is the steady filter of voices in his head, so plentiful and quiet it's like trying to find words in white noise. Without uttering a sound John puts a hand on the door. It's physically cold to the touch, but he feels the whispers coming from the other side; a body of curling smoke that's made of nothing but swirling voices. He knocks four times.
Clang-clang-clang-clang answers the demon from outside.
"She said she'd get me. Stop it; make it stop!" Sky shouts in place.
John frowns to himself, still inspecting the door. He hasn't uttered a word since this thing showed up. It is a thing, per se. Sky said 'she', but this thing…it's not even technically alive, so how can it have a gender? Then again, he thinks, listening to the voices that try to envelop his thoughts, maybe that's an actual trait. Maybe this thing can be whatever it wants to be so long as it has a model to latch onto.
Sky shouts in a whirl of fear anger. Her voice becomes raspy with the exertion of her fright. She backs to the far wall, both shouting at the others and watching the ceiling. She can hear it, and all of its voices.
"It's coming for me," Sky whimpers, backed against the door and paralyzed in terror. "It's coming for me, it's coming for me!"
John feels the whispers become louder, fuller, inside his mind. Sky's eyes fill with horrified realization. He leaps with a hand out. "Get out of there!"
Sparks fly and things go dark. Everyone collapses as the cabin is jostled roughly. The world seems off kilter for the first few minutes of recomposing. People bring themselves to their feet and find torches to help them see. Something is very, very wrong.
John feels the cold hissing in his mind recede. It hovers near the edges of his mind, waiting to take hold again, but it's held back. A warm, golden light takes over. It has a soft voice, almost melodic. John feels relief as the warmth helps him find the strength to stand.
The Doctor jumps awake from her slumber. There is cold sweat on her forehead and her hearts are pounding. She recognizes the sensation: this is the adrenaline of fear. 'What's happened…John?'
I'm here, Doctor, John answers her even though she can't hear him.
She stands and leaves the pool area, pushing past the rigid waiters. There is staff everywhere but no one has noticed her urgency. She bounds to a desk. "Excuse me, I'm the Doctor; there was a Crusader expedition to see the sapphire waterfalls—what happened?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, communication with the Crusaders is for staff only."
"My husband is on that shuttle, now you tell me what happened!" the Doctor orders the man at the desk.
"A distress signal was sent, and we are sending another to retrieve the party now. The shuttle will reach them in an hour on emergency protocol."
"An hour," the Doctor's eyes spark viciously, ice cold fury dripping from her tongue. "Not good enough—they could be dead by then!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, that's the fastest we can get to them."
"Give me the coordinates, I'll retrieve them myself," she bites at him, using every bit of restraint in her not to kill him.
"I can't ma'am, we don't even have the exact coordinates, just the approximate area where the bridge went down. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
The Doctor bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her fist is clenched as she walks away from the innocent desk worker. She goes back to the pool area, unable to do anything else. 'John, please, I told you to be safe.'
I will be, John promises her in his mind. He can hear the rattling of gears in her brain going into overdrive. He can feel the cold fear pounding in her hearts. I promise I'll be safe.
"Everyone all right?" John calls out in a clipped voice.
Jethro, the boy from the back, waves off his mother. His light is pointed towards where Sky was standing. "Never mind me, what about her?"
Lights swivel around against the back wall, everyone showing equally unsteady hands. The shadow cast is solid, though. Sky sits, hands on her head, hunched over and still as the night. The seats around her have been torn clean out of the floor. Sky's body doesn't move an inch; not even to breathe.
"I can't get the driver," the hostess slams down the intercom phone and tries the door. Everyone screams as violent sunlight fills the cabin. It's over in a matter of seconds but everyone remains shaken. "Th-the cabin, it-it's gone."
"It can't be gone."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"It can't be gone."
"There was nothing there."
John kneels to the panel connecting the cabin to the bridge. "Can I get a bit of light, here?"
"What are you doing?"
John presses forward, Sonicking the edges. "Brilliant, fantastic, molto bene," he murmurs. The panel all but slides out of the wall and into his hand. The wires are dead, like they fried themselves in a suicide attempt of machinery. "The bridge is gone, it was just…severed: sliced off."
"But if it gets separated," the hostess begins.
"It loses integrity, I know, I'm sorry," John stands and faces the group facing him. "The driver and the mechanic are gone. I am sorry, but if anything happens to the bridge it sends a distress signal, we are going to be fine. We are going to get out of here, I promise."
"Why won't she turn around?" Jethro voices, still regarding her.
"What's her name?"
"Sky," John supplies in a monosyllabic fashion. He keeps his eyes on her eerily still form as he approaches. The wall behind her is un-penetrated but he knows better. The whispers are coming from her—from her mind. "Look at me."
"That noise from outside has stopped," Jethro draws everyone's attention. "But what if it's inside?"
John has the same thought; it was headed directly for Sky and she heard a singular voiced thought before anyone else. It confirms his previous theory: this thing doesn't have a body, but it has thoughts. It just needs a voice. "Just look at me."
The first movement from Sky's body in ages comes as a hand removes itself from her head. It's a slow movement, but lacks the shakiness of a human's ministration. She unravels herself and turns to them. A human face can almost never be without expression but this face is entirely blank. The blue eyes that once possessed Sky are just a color, now, filled with whispers.
John leans closer, towards those unsettling, beady eyes. They don't move, don't hesitate and don't blink. "Sky?"
"Sky?" comes a blank, un-tempered voice.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" John's bones grow colder and more achy with each word repeated. This thing isn't Sky anymore, but he wishes he knew what it was.
"Why's she doing that?"
"Why's she doing that?" the creature parrots in Sky's voice, without tone or emotion.
"She's gone mad."
"She's gone mad," it repeats again.
"All of you, please," John barks loudly enough to startle them into silence. He leans closer to the creature, light shining in Sky's old eyes. "Why are you repeating? What is that: learning, copying…absorbing?"
John can still feel the thoughts circling his head, but they've got Sky's voice now. Every incomplete thought, all the words he can't quite understand, have Sky's voice and tone. So, it steals, he reasons with himself.
Everyone starts speaking at once. Their voices raise, wrung with anxiety. Each and every word is spat back at them by the creature in Sky's body. It's different now, though: it's speaking in tones. It can match every breath and inflection they make, with uncanny precision. Its head swivels so it can look at its subjects - its victims - but it never blinks. Even as it speaks the voices it emits and sends into their heads are still there, and stronger than before. The little voices, in everyone's heads, drive them mad. They don't know they can hear them, but they're there.
John feels worry claw at him. He can't get them to listen to him. Even if they listen to his words that thing will just repeat them and they'll still have a thousand whispers in their heads at once. For a moment he realizes why the Doctor finds him being human such a pertinent factor when considering his well being: we're pathetic, aren't we?
'Oh, my Earthboy, where are you?' The Doctor paces steadily. The light from the water dances across her, but only emphasizes how tightly drawn her face is. She sent everyone away, seeing as she is nothing but helpless. All she can do is wait for John to return…or see if he does, for that matter. The thought upsets her more than she expected it to and she doubles over as a sob is ripped from her throat. She feels like she has vomited the sounds of anguish coming from her, crippled with fear. 'No, stop it, you can't think like that. John is going to need you; John does need you. Oh, if only you had linked to him.'
If only, John laughs at himself.
'You feel him, though, don't you?' The Doctor calms herself, sitting back down, at least. 'You feel that little niggling feeling of fear, don't you? That's John, and he needs your help.'
She can feel me, John considers, just like I can feel her.
The lights flicker on as power resumes with an overwhelming hum. The sound of activity is all encompassing for a moment before people start to breathe. Breathing again: it's a small, comforting relief.
John stands straight but doesn't let his eyes leave the creature. He wishes the Doctor were here, now more than ever. She would have known how to get things under control without distractions. He laughs sardonically in his head; she would know what this thing is. "I need you all to calm down."
"Doctor," says Jethro.
John ignores why Jethro thinks he's the Doctor. Now is not the time. He gives pause. What would the Doctor do? How would the Doctor handle this situation? The chatter in the background fades against the whispers and Sky's voice. "I know."
John leans back down to the creature. It's different. It has an expression, its eyes are lively now. She's learning, measuring, calculating. She's absorbing. "You have our voices, you have our words."
"What is she doing?"
"She's repeating at exactly the same time."
"But that's impossible."
"There's not even a delay."
"What do you need?" John doesn't expect an answer, just keeps watching. "You repeated, then you caught up."
That's it, John realizes with a tingle Doctor brilliance at the base of his brain. This thing goes in stages, like a chrysalis. It learns by observing, gains consciousness by stealing, words by repeating and a voice by embodying.
"You're…becoming; this is you coming into life." John watches the eyes that are darker than before. They swirl with malice, and a malevolence he has never seen and hopes never to see again.
"Tell her to stop it!"
"Look at her."
"She let me go."
"It's just him."
I know why, too. I can hear them; that's it, isn't it? I can hear your voices, all of the whispers that make up your existence. Because without those you're nothing, just smoke in the midnight air, am I right? So, why steal my words in particular? Why do you need my voice?
"You need my voice…because of the other voice," John leans his head a little more forward, indicating his head. He knows this thing is in his head, and the only thing saving him is the Doctor. "The only one stronger than yours."
"Listen to me, if it's form, or consciousness, or a voice, you don't have to steal it. I can help you."
The Doctor feels a shiver run through her. She's freezing, despite the tropical temperature around her. She's still in a cold sweat and there's a horrible ache coming from somewhere indiscernible within. She feels like a part of her is dying. When she felt John a moment ago she was all right but the light at the end of the tunnel is fading. She can't feel him anymore. 'Oh, no, please, John, you have to come back to me."
"We can help you," John presses but as soon as the Doctor's voice fades from his mind the whispers fill in. His head feels like a beehive full of insufferable buzzing.
"Do we have a deal?"
"Do we have a deal?" John's sentence trails after hers. This thing, now taken over Sky, smiles. It is the most disturbing thing he has ever seen. He can't look away, though. He can't move, he can't blink, he can't even breathe. He can see into those eyes, that laugh, because now they have him. The voices are laughing, because soon he'll be one of them.
Please, listen to me. If you want a voice I can help you - the Doctor can help you - but this isn't right!—John screams in his head. It's no use, though. The buzzing is driving him mad and every nerve synapse in him is burning in agony.
'John, tell me you can hear me, please!' the Doctor calls out to her Earthboy, using everything in her to try and reach him.
Doctor, no!—but it's too late. That thing latches onto the Doctor, in John's mind: her body, her voice, her mind.
No, please, leave her alone, John begs. He struggles to drag air through his clenched teeth but it's taking every ounce of his strength not to let his own skull implode. You can have my body, and my mind, my thoughts, my voice! You can have it all if you leave me my connection to her! Please, just let me keep my connection to her—I love her!
Love.
What a new thing.
John's heart struggles to beat as he realizes this thing is going to take everything. It has his words, it's taking his voice, soon it will have his body, and then it will take his love. Every thought is already being sucked into the void of whispers and every emotion will soon join.
"She spoke first."
"How can that be?"
"They're working together!"
"He's with her!"
"No," the hostess whispers in horror at what's happening. Her eyes flick to Miss Blasco, who looks just as scared but sure of it. "No, his wife is back at the Leisure Palace I saw them."
"Then he's working with her!"
"No, I think it's in him now."
"It moved!"
"I saw it!"
"No, that's not what happened!" Dee Dee speaks up, ignoring the professor's angry glare. "This creature is new, and learning, but it has a consciousness, which means it must have a rate of evolution. It copied him, then it caught up with him, and now it's ahead of him—that's how the cycle works!"
"She's got his voice," the hostess repeats to herself. She can see the face of the woman who used to be Sky. It's not right; it's evil looking, and sinister.
"No, she's safe now!"
"I saw it!"
"It's in him!"
"We have to get rid of him!"
"Yes," says the creature in Sky.
"Yes," John feels the voice and words dragged out of his throat. They scrape along his raw vocal chords, forcefully ripped out of him.
"Throw him out."
"Throw him out," John repeats helplessly. He can't help his voice. It's well out of his control. He can barely even cling to his thoughts. Never has he ever wished so much for time alone with his thoughts.
I never got to tell the Doctor I love her.
"We can't throw him out!"
"Yes, we can!"
"Out the fire exit!"
"He has a wife!"
"No one is getting thrown out!" the hostess shouts in what she hopes is a firm tone.
"Get rid of him!" the creature stands, testing out its new physicality.
"Get rid of him," John seethes. Spit collects around the corners of his mouth, where his teeth are ground together. He can't breathe. He can feel his heart dying inside of him. He can't breathe. He can't breathe!
Air: it's a small amount but it's enough. It flows through him and out through his teeth. It comes again and again, as if suddenly appearing in his lungs.
'Hold on, Earthboy, help is on the way,' the Doctor echoes through John's mind. Her hearts are steady, her breathing is even.
That's it, John finally regains some conscious ability. I'm breathing through her; that's why I'm still alive.
"She's been saved."
That's wrong, John screams mentally, she's not safe! It's to no avail; the buzzing is overpowering. His thoughts begin to cloud over again as it all starts to become white noise.
"Cast him out!"
"Cast him out," John gasps and spits from the exertion of trying not to.
"It's inside his head."
"It's inside his head." Great, now it's mocking me.
"That's what he does," the beast smirks.
"That's what he does."
"He gets in your head," and John echoes, "and makes you fight."
"And makes you fight," John begins trembling. He feels as if every cell in his body is being torn apart from the inside.
"It's him!"
"He's just repeating!"
"That's what it does!"
"It's got his voice!"
"Throw him out!" the creature declares loudly, with triumph in its voice.
"Throw him out!" No, they can't do this. What about the Doctor? I can't die here. Who will know? They won't even have a body to find. What if it keeps my voice?—my thoughts, my words? What if it gets to her?
"Get rid of him!"
"Get rid of him!" You can't, please, remember your humility! Humans are better than this! We're better than this, please!
"Molto bene!"
"Molto bene!"
"That's him," the hostess locks eyes John's lifeless form as the husband tries to lift him.
"Allons-y!"
"Allons-y!"
Don't you dare use that word. The single thought drowns out the buzzing for a moment. John feels cold, and stiff, like his bones are made of metal.
'John!' the Doctor feels the telepathic hand of her Earthboy in her mind. She takes it, squeezing tight. 'What is this?'
Doctor, it's in my head, John feels the thoughts becoming noise again.
The Doctor focuses on their connection. She focuses everything she has, telepath and empath, into it. John's mind is in so much pain. There is a hurricane inside that mind. It's all grey, a twister of smoke that emits only demonic whispers and nightmarish laughter. 'If you want a battle of minds I promise you will lose now let him go!'
Doctor, I can't! John feels nothing around him but emptiness. His eyes, barely still showing him anything, show the door. They're going to kill me! Doctor, they're going to kill me!
Get out!
"She's taken his voice!"
John's eyes glow gold as the Doctor's telepathic connection bursts in his mind like a volcano. A warmth erupts in him, restoring life into his body as he throws himself from their murderous arms. As the golden light flows out of him he sees something. No one else can but John sees it. It's a black kind of wispy presence, like smoke. It's smoke made of whispers, and pure, natural evil.
The hostess hits the fire exit alarm. Wind fills the cabin. Blaring light hits them with a destructive force.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
We must not look at Goblin Men.
We must not buy their fruits.
John fills his lungs with air greedily. Every muscle in his body unclenches at the relief of being him again. He rolls onto his back, heaving with pain and bliss all at once. "It's gone."
The hostess is still alive. She sits. Everyone sits. They can't stand. They can't think. They can't even cry. No one can do anything but try to breathe, and remember that they're still alive. They remain like that, silent, wondering, until the shuttle arrives. They board silently. They sit silently. They leave silently.
John revels in the feeling of solid earth under his trainers. He's so tired, but he manages to drag his head up to look ahead. A halo of red awaits him. His steps are slow, haunted. She approaches slowly, as if afraid he might disappear. When he's near she throws her arms around him. He brings his arms around her as well, finding it just as comforting a reply as the action.
"You're safe, you're okay," the Doctor repeats into John's chest. Her whispers are harried, like the ones in his head were, but they're so much warmer. The carry a trace of her voice, like a faint promise of life. "You're all right, I've got you."
"I love you," John whispers into her hair. The warmth of her on his lips is the most soothing thing he has ever experienced.
"I love you, too," she whispers, part way through a sob. She sits them both down on her lounge chair, him, partly folded around her. "What do you think it was?"
"I don't know," John says slowly. "Just some creature without a body or a mind just…an essence."
"We'll have to tell this lot," the Doctor looks about her. When she looks back at John, still looking traumatized, she sighs. She takes his hand gently and he looks at her. "John, I'm so sorry-"
"No, no, absolutely not," John finally regains some vitality. He pulls whatever strength he has left into his eyes as he takes the Doctor's cheeks in his hands. She shows no nervousness at the gesture and he loves how she trusts in him. "Doctor, I am only here right now because you saved me. You saved me and all those people on that shuttle."
"Them," the Doctor spits with an acid tongue. She would love nothing more than to force those people to face themselves and what thy did. John simply isn't up to it and he deserves to rest. He deserves time to heal and they deserve to stew in their guilty consciences.
"Doctor, if you had been there," John shudders, "God knows if anyone would have made it out of there."
"I should have been there for you," the Doctor runs a hand down John's chest and pats the pocket there. "Tell me the Sonic at least did you some good."
"Handy dandy," John smiles freely and gladly.
"Come on, Earthboy, let's get out of here," the Doctor stands, John's hand in hers. "I think a nice night in the TARDIS is just what we need."
"Allons-y," John sighs tiredly.
"Allons-y," the Doctor repeats before she realizes her mistake. John looks like he has seen the ghost of his worst nightmare. "I-I'm…I'm sorry."
"No," John simply shakes his head. Rather than dwell on it he squeezes the Doctor's hand and forces a smile. When she smiles back he finds it easy to smile for real. "I love you."
"I love you, too."