A/N: Apologies for the late chapter. I was going to post it last night when a storm knocked out our internet and cable service. Boooooooooooooo!
I'm trying something different with our friend Q here... I feel like I've written her as this meek, quiet little character a lot of the time, when in reality this is the person who blackmailed SUE SYLVESTER. So in little bits and pieces I think I'll be letting some of her fieriness out. Good thing? Bad thing? Let me know :).
"It's very interesting," the man said as he closed the door behind them. "I ran a search for you. A strange man who appears from thin air and calls himself..." he made a gesture as if he were inviting the Time Lord to continue.
"The Doctor," he replied. "Just the Doctor."
"The Doctor, yes. I'm afraid I've never heard of you." Quinn sighed. This conversation was basically an instant replay of the one they'd just had. Were they going to have to do everything twice today? "It's odd, really, because we've been cataloguing the more... vocal elements of that particular political bent, and you've never come up." He sat down in one of the chairs and put his feet up on the table. "But you don't really strike me as the sort who wouldn't be in the lead."
"I tend to inspire a following, I suppose," he agreed, scratching his ear with some degree of modesty that Quinn couldn't decide if she believed in or not. "So. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, sitting down at the opposite end of the table and leaning forward. Quinn sat down in one of the chairs as well, just glad to get off her feet. She toyed with the idea of slipping her shoes off but wasn't sure she'd get them back on if she did, and ultimately decided against it.
Telbok leaned forward as well. "Well, that all depends. I'm a little worried about your last few lines before the end of that last scene," he said. "Was it scripted? Because if not, one might easily assume you intended treasonous talk against his majesty the King."
"I meant what I said," the Doctor replied, looking at Sanders with the same steely glare from the stage.
"Now, I don't think there's any need for that," Sanders said. "The threatening tone and the hard look and all that. My unflattering depiction in this play might be smug and menacing, but that notwithstanding, I assure you I'm quite a nice guy when you get to know me."
The thing was, he did seem nice enough as far as Quinn was concerned. He wasn't threatening them, at least, and he seemed almost friendly. Then again, wasn't that how the best politicians worked anyway?
"The fact of the matter is," Sanders continued, "despite what you may or may not have been told, there are very real and valid reasons why the monarchy sides with the Anchor philosophy rather than the Travelers, and it's nothing to do with a desire to see people downtrodden or uneducated, if that's what you think. We're doing what we feel is best for the safety of the population as a whole, not just the few with lofty dreams."
"So this is how you accomplish it? There's a lot riding on this performance, isn't there? This looks like a last ditch effort to me. Hire a well known playwright, force him to write this play that tells people in no uncertain terms that if they defy the government, they'll be killed, and build him a brand new theater to show it in? You're desperate to keep the population in line, but why? What does it bother you if they want to see the world?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, but trust me, it's for the best."
"So that's it, is it? You do what you must for the good of us all? That's always how it starts. Never mind the security screenings, it's for your own good. Just carry your papers and you won't have a problem. Never mind the government housing, it's for your own good. Just don't complain and you'll be fine. Never mind the overflowing prison camps, they're for your own good. Just don't speak out against what's wrong with society and you'll be fine."
"Yes, yes, you're right. History's shown a propensity to creep slowly from the honorable to the horrific. But that doesn't mean that anything and everything the governing body does to protect its citizens is malicious behind the scenes, if you'll forgive the pun."
Quinn spoke up, "That might be easier to believe if you weren't keeping their families hostage and threatening to execute them."
Sanders' eyes widened. He swung his feet back down to the floor and leaned forward, mirroring the Doctor now. "Who's been telling you that?"
"A roomful of very scared people," the Doctor said. "Scared and desperate because they think you're going to hurt the people they love most in the whole world."
"Consider your sources, Doctor," Sanders said. "The overly-dramatic sort, imaginations running free, overtly expressive. How do you know what they said is any closer to the truth than what I've told you?"
"Experience. I know what frightened people are like. I see it all the time, and these people we truly terrified."
"Indeed. Of course, that begs the question of who, exactly, you are, and what you're doing here."
"Me? Oh, I'm just a fan of the arts, trying to make sure the play goes off without a hitch."
"Now, I know that's not true. Making sure this goes off without a hitch is my job, not yours, and to that end, last night the play was screened for several high ranking officials to make sure it would met his majesty's approval, myself included. This is not the approved play as written, not even close. I'm warning you, make sure you put it right." He stood up and made for the door, his business apparently concluded.
"And if I don't?"
Sanders stopped at the door. "Then you'll get a lot of innocent people killed."
"Let them go, Sanders."
He smiled and said, almost apologetically, "I'm afraid that's never going to happen, Doctor."
The Doctor and Quinn stood to follow him as he left the actors' lounge. "Wait! Come back here!" the Doctor called.
Saunders didn't stop walking, didn't even turn around, as he said, "No one is coming to stop you, Doctor. Nobody's going to storm the stage and force you to be silent. But if you don't let us get on with our business, then I do promise you that people will die." And with that he disappeared out a side door.
"So now what do we do?" Quinn asked after a moment as the Doctor stared at the door where Sanders had left.
"Prove him wrong. Come on."
The rest of the cast were watching Callie, alone on stage, giving a monologue about her husband.
"How's it going out there?" the Doctor asked, coming up behind Robert.
"It's alright. Fortunately a soliloquy about a dead husband is pretty similar to one about an imprisoned one."
"Good, good."
They were all silent a moment, watching Callie sit on the bed holding a picture of her husband. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without you," she said, hugging the photograph close to her chest. "Is sacrificing our future worth it, just for the things we believe in? What would you do if you were here?"
"I need to talk to the cast," he said. "Can you assemble everyone backstage please?"
"I don't think anyone here wants to hear what you have to say, Doctor," Robert replied. "At least I certainly don't."
The Doctor sighed. "Look, I know you don't trust me, I know you think I'm playing with the lives of your loved ones, but I'm not. I care, and I'm trying to help, honest I am. But I can't do that if you won't let me."
"Really? If you're waiting for permission it's not coming. And now you tell me that's all I have to do to shut you up? Fantastic!"
"If we don't do something now, when we have the chance, then the bad guys win, the government stands unopposed, and you spend the rest of your life under their heel."
"Tough. I don't want your help. I don't want to overthrow the Anchors... not anymore anyway. All I want is to finish the run of this wretched play and get my son back."
"And what kind of world will be live in then, hm? One where he has to be afraid he'll be shot if he goes too far from home? One where he lives in constant fear of the ruling party?"
"One where he lived to be ten and grew up with his daddy," Robert said, finally looking away from the stage towards the Doctor. "Can you promise me that?"
"Yes, of course, I-"
"Think carefully before you answer, Doctor. Can you guarantee me the absolute safety of my child? I know, of course, you'll try your best, but can you promise I'll have him back safe and sound?" The Doctor faltered, and she knew he'd lost Robert. "I thought so. This is the best chance I have of getting my boy back."
"A government willing to kidnap a child and hold them for ransom isn't the most trustworthy organization," the Doctor said. "How do you know they'll turn your son over after all this? Maybe one play's not enough, maybe they'll demand another, a whole series." Robert wasn't looking at him or replying anymore.
"Forget about him, Doctor," Quinn said, and both men turned to face her as if they'd forgotten she was here. She looked Robert right in the eye and said, "You're a terrible father."
The man's eyes went wide and his jaw fell open. "How dare you! You come here, endanger everything we hold dear, and then you have the nerve to tell me-"
"Yeah, I do. Only a completely selfish parent would risk letting their child grow up unhappy just to keep them close."
"You don't understand what I'm talking about, you don't know what it is to-"
"Really? I don't know? I don't know?!" She had balled up her fists on her hips and was laying into him now, and even though he stood a good foot taller than her she was doing a good job of backing him into a wall. "You might be able to pull that over on somebody else, but not me. Keeping a child safe is about more than holding them in your arms. It's about doing what's best for their future, their whole life. You have a chance to help everyone and you're not going to take it?" She shook her head. "I'd be ashamed if you were my dad. And if you knew anything about me, you'd realize how big of a deal that is."
Robert was looking over her head at the stage lights, the curtain, anything to avoid making eye contact now. "What do you want from me, huh?" he asked in a defeated tone.
"Let us help. Let the Doctor help you. Please."
He sighed. "Assemble the rest of the cast."