A/N: There's no real set time for my posts. I usually try to do them at some point over the weekend but this one was especially busy. Still, it' the very early hours of Monday morning and I haven't gone to bed yet so, technically, it's still the weekend (or at least I say it is, so there).
It occurred to me as I re-read this prior to posting, that each character basically has two names - their real name and the name of the character they're playing in the show. Is it easy enough to follow those jumps? I don't know how to alleviate that entirely, but if nothing else I could publish the playbill at the end of a chapter or something.
Thanks to all the readers who favorited the story. I love to know more people are out there getting enjoyment out of the series. I'd love to hear what you think!
Before anyone had a chance to do or say anything, the audience began to applaud once again, clearly drawn in and eager to see where this story was heading. Quinn wondered how they would react if they knew the actors were wondering exactly the same thing. She knew everyone would be doing their best to stick to the lines they had been given, with the exception that their attempted execution was now going to be an arrest, but she was concerned about the Doctor. He had a tendency to be off-putting. Normally, that worked to their advantage, but not so much when you were trying to put on a good show for an audience. Dumbfounded, speechless actors weren't a good idea, and she hoped the Doctor would realize that.
The applause died down and the lead soldier pointed his gun right at the Doctor. Quinn flinched; the reaction was completely involuntary whether she knew the gun was a fake or not. It certainly looked deadly enough, and she'd never had a gun pointed at her before in her life. Mind sucking parasite plants and orbital bombings had all seemed like intangible threats, somehow, compared to the undeniable reality of someone preparing to shoot you, even if it was all for show. At least she didn't have to work at acting like she was afraid.
The tension was getting stronger on stage as Quinn wondered who was going to speak first. Fortunately the leader of the two soldiers beat her to it.
"We're here for Frank Milligan, enemy of this sovereign nation. Step aside," he said, "or I'll charge you with harboring a known fugitive."
"Now, there's no need for that," the Doctor said. "Just put the weapons down and I'm sure Frank will go peacefully enough, won't you Frank?"
Frank stepped out from behind the Police Box, arms raised, and knelt down beside the sofa. The second soldier approached him and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, pulling him to his feet and shoving him out the door, just a little too enthusiastically to be purely acting. "Frank!" his wife called in despair, and she ran out the door after him, leaving the Doctor and Quinn alone with the soldiers.
The first soldier holstered his gun and approached the wooden box, reaching out a black-gloved hand to stroke the side of the blue wood panel. "Now, this is a beautiful piece of equipment," he said, smiling a malevolent smile. "Painstakingly crafted, a real artisanal piece, and yet... also something more than it appears to be, hm?" He raised his eyebrows as if to make it clear that it was a statement, not a question. The Doctor was glaring at him, and Quinn remembered what Robert had said, that he'd cast the roles according to the actors political stance wherever he could. That meant some of the menace creeping into the man's voice wasn't fiction at all. The guns and the setting might be playthings, but the danger was very representative of something real. He spoke in a deep, smooth, almost sultry voice, friendly on the surface but still inescapably cruel. "I know people who would love to get a peek."
"Never in a billion years," the Doctor said, "and I'm in a unique position to see that promise through."
"I see," he said, sounding pleased rather than disappointed. Quinn supposed he was the kind of person who enjoyed a chance to get forceful with people. "I imagine you know who I am, and what I am liable to do if I do not get my way."
The Doctor scratched his ear, looked up at the stage lights as if he were staring far away into space and scrunched up his face, as if he were really wracking his brain, then after a moment said, "Nope. No, I'm afraid not."
"Really? I would have though my reputation would precede me. I am captain Telbrook Saunders, primary adjutant to his Majesty the King. But then again, I would think the reputation of a man in possession of such a traveling machine... well, I suppose such a man's reputation would precede him as well. Yet I'm afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage."
"How 'bout that?" the Doctor said. "Never heard of you."
"A shame," Saunders replied, still stroking the TARDIS. "And quite possibly a dangerous one."
"Yes," the Doctor agreed. "You never know just how much trouble you might be in if you cross the wrong person. I'm the Doctor, by the way. I'd shake your hand, but..." He inclined his head up towards his hands, still held above his head, earning a light chuckle from the audience.
"Please, of course, feel free," he said, and the Doctor and Quinn lowered their arms. She shook her hands and clenched and unclenched her fists a few times to get the blood flowing again. "After all, we all know who is in charge here, yes?"
"I've a fair idea," the Doctor replied.
"Indeed," Saunders said, pursing his lips. "But now I'm afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage."
"Of course, where are my manners? I'm the Doctor and this is Quinn," he said, flashing a grin that disappeared a second later. "Well, that's the pleasantries dispatched with. Sorry you can't stay."
Saunders holstered his weapon on his belt and smiled. "Regrettably, yes, I must be going," he said. "But who is to say you will not be going with me, hm? I've already arrested Frank Milligan for his allegiance to this dissenting organization. You've made your allegiance perfectly plain as well. Perhaps I should take you in. You certainly seem to have some influence."
"Influence? I think you'll find few of them have even heard of me. I think this will clear the issue up," the Doctor said, passing over the psychic paper.
The actor took the wallet with a smug expression, but as he read over the document his eyes widened, and for just a moment he looked up at the Doctor with a bewildered, awestruck expression.
Watching from the wings, Robert couldn't suppress his smile. Avery Krelle was nothing like the Saunders character - obviously a parody of the very real, very much dreaded Telbok Sanders, the King's right hand man who'd been in the headlines often as of late. But Avery was a sad coward of a man. Put him in front of an audience and give him a chance to act like a tough guy with no possibility of consequences, and he could be downright chilling. But looking at that paper of the Doctor's, now the real fear was shining through despite the actor's best efforts.
To his credit as an actor, he wiped off his surprise quickly. "Very well, Doctor. You've won for now. But change is coming. Prepare yourself." He turned to leave.
"No." the Doctor said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said 'no'. I'm not going to prepare myself. You prepare yourself."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Saunders said.
"You're a tyrant," the Doctor replied. "You and your entire regime, trying to take away a basic right. Who are you to tell people they can't branch out? Who are you to tell people they can't strive for whatever they can reach?"
"Traveler rhetoric," Saunders said, waving his hand dismissively. "Traveler rhetoric, from the mouth of yet another member of the Traveler herd. What you say is just static, nothing more."
"Oh, no it's not," the Doctor said. "Because you're right. I am a traveler. Me and my friends. I've been traveling since I left my home and I've never looked back since, and you want to deny that to these people," he said, waving a hand at the audience. Quinn cleared her throat and he cast her a quick sidelong glance. Catching her meaning, he swept his other arm out and did a full 360 degree turn, to indicate his passionate argument encompassed everyone beyond the unseen fourth wall of the living room. "People who never travel, never broaden their horizons, those are people who never change." Quinn couldn't suppress a smile at his sheer passion, as he turned his gaze skyward and shouted. "They never learn, never explore, never see what's out there! And there is so much out there! So, so much!" He had stopped pacing the room now, but he wasn't looking at the man playing Saunders when he finished his speech. He was peering out into the audience, and Quinn wasn't sure how he could see anything through the aura the stage lights created, but somehow she was sure he was staring directly into an ornate box somewhere out in the seats, maybe a balcony, where the monarch was seated. "I'm not who you think I am, not by a long shot. Some people say I'm a hero. Some people say I'm a villain. For people like you I am much, much worse."
"Oh, no," Robert said, covering his face in his hands. This was getting out of control. An uncomfortable tense silence had fallen over the whole auditorium now.
"I am declaring freedom," he said. "You can join me if you want. You can give me what I'm after. But if not, I won't be responsible for what happens to you."
Robert didn't bother to call for a stagehand this time. He threw the lever to close the curtain himself, and ran out onto the set. "Change the set dressing to the bedroom," he called out to the crew, but he didn't stop advancing on the Doctor. He raised both palms and slammed the Time Lord back against the TARDIS. "What are you doing?" he yelled. "Do you think you can just waltz in here, ruin my play, and threaten the King himself and everyone else is just going to stand by and let you do it? And don't think for a second there's anyone who doesn't know that's what you were doing. I wouldn't be surprised if we got a visit from the real Sanders before the night is up."
The Doctor was calm, even as Robert tried to lift him up by his lapels. "Look at you," he said. "Really look. Look at what he's done to you, through fear and manipulation. He doesn't need to police you to keep you in line. You're all doing it to one another for him."
"Yes! Yes we are!" Robert said. "You figured it out. We're doing a play about our side losing. Thats the point. We start to rebel, the King's people intimidate the rest to silence and kill anyone who won't shut up about it. That's how this goes, that's what we're doing, because we don't want our families to die, and because we want this to stay fiction. It's sad when the arts are full of a message of hopelessness and defeat but it'll be an absolute tragedy when it's the real thing." He sighed. "I have to go try to keep this thing on track. You," he said, jabbing an index finger into the Doctor's chest, "start thinking of a way to get killed."
"You mean get his character killed?" Quinn asked.
"Right now, I wouldn't be bother either way," Robert said, and strode off to yell at the crew rolling the bed and night table into place.
"Well, that's never gonna happen," the Doctor muttered, and Quinn turned to face him, arms folded. "Oh, what, I suppose you're unhappy with me as well now?"
"As a matter of fact, yeah," she said. "What was all that about?"
"What do you mean, 'What's that about'? Same thing it's always about."
"You're doing it again! You're swooping in and... changing stuff."
"That's what I do! I thought that was what you liked about me."
"Yes, but these people didn't ask you for this! They asked you to do exactly the opposite. I thought doctors couldn't help if the patient wanted to avoid treatment."
He looked almost astonished, like he couldn't believe she wasn't 100% on his side from the start on this one. "I'm trying to help people!" he said.
"By changing a stupid play? If you want to get out of here and go rescue the people who are being held captive or something, let's go. But this isn't real. It's fake. It's just a story."
"Oh, but a story is so much more than that. Stories are important, Quinn. Stories give us hope and something to look forward to. They teach us so much about love and loss and living life. A story isn't just a way to pass a couple of hours away on a Sunday afternoon. The best ones get right inside us, and the very best of those... they can change us forever." He held her arms to her sides and looked into her eyes. "If the government were as strong as they say they are in this play, then this play wouldn't be happening. The Travelers' leaders would be arrested, the rest would be persecuted or driven to an underground of some kind. They're not letting on, but they're afraid," he said. "They're trying to crush the faith of these people in the one thing they believe in, and we're not going to stand by and watch it happen."
"Well said," a voice from offstage said, and they both turned to look at the speaker. "Hello. I'm Telbok Sanders," said a man in a black suit. "I think you've met my rather unflattering counterpart. Might I have a word?"
"Ooh, I don't know," the Doctor said. "They might need us for this next scene here."
Telbok smiled. "I wasn't really asking," he said. "Please, this way. We'll use the actors' lounge."