A/N:- HEYA all you amazingly FABBITY FAB parsnips! *hands out moo-moo cows in gratitude&aprpeciation* THANKS FOR ALL YOU GROOVY GRAVY REVIEWS!! They're all muchio luuurved and stored up in my Big Lettuce Folder Of Reviews in my BRAIN! Aryl (an OC) plays a cameo role in this chapter, btw!
*puts on cheesy merry-happy voice* You may remember her from previous chapters.
YAY! I actually updated on time PROPERLY! BE WARNED!!! And no it's not the EVIIIIIL SHEEP OF DOOOOOOM this time. Tis the fact that this is Un-Betaed. Like loads of mah previous chaps. Unfortunately…
Disclaimer: Doctor Who ain't mine. If it were… MWAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BOW DOWN TO VEGGIES! =P
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"No on me, no. Not unless… you want me to call Rhys?" Gwen yelled back, her voice bouncing off the walls as they ran.
Jack groaned.
"Anything but the family, Gwen. You should know that better than anyone," the Captain grumbled, feigning disgust. "Remember your wedding?"
"That wasn't my fault! It wasn't exactly the Baby Jesus; I was carrying, was it? I didn't even know I was 'pregnant', until eight hours before I was meant to be halfway down the bleedin' aisle!" Gwen protested. "How was I s'posed to know that aliens could disguise themselves as Rhys's mother? It was unexpected!"
"And when did this happen?" Martha put in.
"Time and a place!" the Doctor reminded quickly.
"They're gettin' closer!" Mickey warned.
"Kinda figured that, Mickey," the Doctor mumbled quickly.
Gwen switched back tot the topic. "Seeing as you're our man in command, what conniving Plan B do you suggest, then?"
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again.
"I thought so," Gwen replied, with the slightest trace of a grin, caused by the amusing look of defeat on her Boss.
"We could always use that watch-gismo of yours to contact somebody," Ianto suggested suddenly.
The Doctor's eyes suddenly lit up brightly, and he abruptly jerked to a stop slap-bang in the middle of the corridor – instigating his accomplices to bump and crash into his back.
"Of course!" he exclaimed, with an air of triumph and muse. "That's it!"
"What's 'it'?" Martha said, peeling herself out of their suddenly too-close-for-comfort proximity.
"Captain!" the Doctor addressed the Captain, who appeared at his side, in an instant
"At you service, Doc,"
"Don't, just… don't," he shook his head disapprovingly and then spontaneously jumped. "Your watch!"
"What about it?"
"It's a Vortex Manipulator device!" Martha shouted in glee, knowledgeably.
The Captain's eyes sparked with the same knowledgeable glint, as the Time Lord's, and he beamed brightly.
"Watch?" the Doctor prompted, as the resounding thuds of the oncoming soldiers' footsteps grew ever closer, and ever louder.
Captain Jack snapped out of his reverie and proceeded to remove the broken Vortex Manipulator, that currently only served as a watch and communication device, and handed it over to the Doctor. A quick bleep and a few more buzzes later, the Sonic Screwdriver had done its magic and the newly fixed Vortex Manipulator was ready and working.
"What is that thing?" Mickey asked.
"That thing happens to be my Vortex Manipulator, honourable courtesy of the Time Agency."
"What does it do exactly?" Gwen chimed in.
"What does it do; it's only the best, fully functional, 51st century modernised gadg--" Captain Jack started.
"It's basically a miniature Time Machine," Martha explained simply, with a roll of eyes.
"As in… TARDIS: Ferrari. Vortex Manipulator: plastic Space Hopper," the Doctor added smugly.
"Doctor, I don't think we have much time. Their footsteps are starting to remind me of Weevils," Ianto put in.
"Too right, too, Ianto."
"Where did you set the co-ordinates exactly?" Jack asked.
"All in good time, Captain! Right, all of you hold onto my arm!" the Doctor instructed them all quickly, fiddling with the many various buttons of the Vortex Manipulator. All, except Jack, looked at each other blankly, but shrugged and followed the Doctor's instructions without complaint. Just as the green, camouflage figures of the armoured soldiers' clomped into sight, the Doctor slammed down on the button and yelled, "HOLD ON TIGHT!"
&&&&&&&&&&&&
A bright, electric blue light rippled the atmosphere, as from out of nowhere in particular, six astounded figures were maliciously thrown down onto the rough, crunchy gravel.
"Not a steady landing," the Doctor frowned and shrugged his shoulders, un-cramping his muscles. "Could've been worse."
"My head's 'urting like hell," Mickey whinged, picking himself up off the floor.
"That kills," Gwen agreed, clutching her head, as she got up.
"Murder." Martha commented firmly, stretching her limbs, in a vain attempt to rid of the painful after-effects.
"Is this legal?" Ianto asked, shaking his head free of the pain.
"That's Time Travel without a capsule, for you," the Doctor remarked. He immediately leapt off the floor and chucked the Vortex Manipulator at Jack, who caught it deftly and wrapped it back around his wrist.
As soon as he'd finished attaching it, he stood up, stretched and sucked in his surroundings.
"Where is this place?" the Captain queried inquisitively, unable to recognise their location.
Mickey followed the Captain's gaze, suddenly clutched his head in excitement, his jaw dropping open in shock.
"I know where this is! This is so weird – I never thought I'd ever come 'ere again. This is--"
"This, Jack Harkness, is the Tyler Mansion," the Time Lord completed, eyes wistfully taking in their new environment and trying to work out whether this was real or not.
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"Door's locked!" Jack said, pushing hard on the grand, black front door. It didn't budge. "What idiot locks their door?"
Ianto coughed.
"What 'idiot' doesn't lock their door?" Martha retorted, with a smug grin. "Unless you don't. Jack."
They all stared at the Captain disbelievingly, with raised eyebrows. Jack suddenly started humming, and rocked back and forth on his heels.
"What?! Can't an Immortal have some privacy these days? " he replied, loudly. Five pairs of bemused eyes stared back into his soft, blue orbs. He pouted. "I get… lonely. Sometimes. A grown man needs company! When good, ol' Yan's not around obviously. But anyway, as soon as you cronies leave for the domestic life, I'm all alone, with nothing to do. It's just me and my office. Oh, come on, some pity guys?" More bemused gazes. He sighed. "So, I find the keys to the fake Tourist Office door and…"
"Oh and what, you leave the door unlocked, just in case a pretty, sassy blonde comes running in?" Martha completed sceptically.
"Maybe," he squeaked.
They all burst out into peals of laughter. The Doctor in the meanwhile was finding the correct setting to open metal locks.
"Help?" Mickey enquired him nonchalantly, creeping up to the Doctor's side.
"No thank, Mickey. I'm perfectly fine, on my own, thanks. It's just this stupid lo— Ow! Ow! I said the Binary deadlock settings, not the heat compression wavelength!" he scolded his insentient Screwdriver.
"You sure?"
"Yep, I told you already Mickey, It's just a matter of—Why do they need so many security locks?! Mickey, do you know why Jackie has fitted so many locks into this one door? Not that I'm accusing Jackie of fitting these locks, but she is the type of person to— Oh."
Click. Mickey pulled himself away from the door and smiled conceitedly.
"How did you manage to do that, all on your own?"
"I didn't," the Doctor gazed at the young man inquisitively. Mickey frowned, and pointed inside. "I rung the doorbell and the maid answered."
"Why didn't I think of that?!" he demanded in a much higher pitch, than intended.
Martha and Gwen swatted him.
&&&&&&&&&&&
"JOHN! Finally, somebody can tell me what happened! Aryl's in the kitchen now! She popped round to drop off for paperwork, but I asked her to say. She's been worried sick," the young brunette woman's face crease dup with worry, and she clutched the Doctor's forearms tightly. "But is it true? Can she really not remember anything?"
The Doctor just stared at her. Confused. Perplexed. Bewildered. Nonplussed. All the words you could think of. Then it dawned on him. (Well, part of it, at least.) His clone. The other recipient of the Metacrisis.
Then suddenly, the woman, whom the Doctor had now recognised to be a maid (considering the standard black and white maid outfit), gaped and stared wide-eyed at Mickey.
&&&&&&&&&&
They'd entered an empty house, with only one shocked pretty, young maid called "Miriam", astounded at Mickey's sudden return. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to be 'back from America', for at least another ten years or so.
Of course, things weren't made any better that the Doctor was classed as "John Smith" to this woman. Probably referring his clone, he thought.
As soon as the young house cleaner had finished eyeing them suspiciously and interrogating the bubbling, overactive Time Lord, in an attempt to shut him up which had proven unsuccessful, as all questions had been answered flawlessly, she let them pass.
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"Well, you won't find any of them here," she elucidated, after what seemed like hours of pointless chatter and babble – walking slowly into the kitchen. "I'd have thought you'd have rushed to Miss Tyler's side."
"Excuse me?
"You won't find them here… because they're all at the hospital, aren't they. Of course, that bag of beans Tony is still at school and Mr. Tyler is probably hard at work – as usual. But you should find Mr. Smith and Mrs. Tyler there."
Miriam rinsed the damp cloth into the sink, washed it and squeezed some liquid soap onto it. Releasing a small sigh, Miriam began scrubbing the expensive, black marble of the kitchen's tabletops and explained.
"There you are, for anybody who doesn't know," Miriam looked promptly at Gwen, Martha and Ianto. "This is Aryl."
She was gesturing the Asian lady sat atop a small stool, in the corner of a kitchen, sipping a cup of steaming, hot tea. She was clearly in her mid-twenties and looked moderately tall, with tanned skin, deep brown eyes, and a mop of sleek, long, black hair, tied back into a long ponytail. 'Aryl' was dressed in a smart, black uniform – full equipped with flak jacket, rucksack and all the standard gismos. The Doctor could tell instantly that she worked for Torchwood, or something similar.
Her face was clearly a picture of worry and intensity. Judging by the redness of her face and all the other pessimistic signs, including the incoherent murmurs, something was definitely wrong.
"Mickey?" 'Aryl' gasped.
"Aryl." Mickey said, nodding. "Nice to see you again."
"I'M DREAMING!" she gasped. "But Rose said you'd 'popped off' to another Universe or somethin'!?"
"Rose wa'nt always right, was she?"
And the explaining process was recited all over again.
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"Hospital, did you say?" Captain Jack intervened, nonplussed and eyebrows practically knitted together.
"Yes, that's what I said," Aryl recapped calmly, but suddenly her face was as white as a sheet and she flinched. "Oh, goodness! They must've forgotten to inform you!" she looked at the Doctor disapprovingly, a smile tingeing the corners of her lips. "Blimey, John, there somethin' wrong with you today? I'd have thought you'd be the first to tell!"
"Inform us wha'?" Mickey interrupted.
"Rose. Mickey, is there somethin' wrong with you too? You've known that there's been somethin' wrong with her for ages now. Even before, you left. Mind you, you weren't in tip-top condition yourself, but I'm not gonna say anythin'…"
Mickey, by all means, ignored the latter and puffed up his chest worriedly, as he grimaced anxiously.
"It hasn't even been that long since I left. I knew! I knew summat would happen to Rose. What's happened to 'er? For flip's sake Aryl, jus' TELL ME!"
"Mickey," the Doctor muttered softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I checked the calendar as we went in."
"An'?"
"It's the 27th April," the Doctor paused. "2009. It's been a year, give or take a few months."
"You are jokin' righ'?" Mickey gasped, laughing lackadaisically.
The Doctor shook his head grimly. Ianto's face suddenly bore the resemblance of a goldfish.
"But, how does that work then, Doctor?" Gwen queried, stepping forward in her black, leather boots. "We open a window in 2008, and land up in bleedin' 2009."
"Could it be the Vortex Manipulator's fault?"
"No – I cheated. I checked the latest date on the folder cabinets, back in the parallel Torchwood, Cardiff, and it was 2009."
"Then, why didn't you tell us?" Martha said.
"It's difficult to explain, Gwen. You see, when Time Windows are opened, you have to be very precise on where you're trying to puncture a hole into," the Doctor enlightened. "Otherwise there'll be biotrigokinetical twofold data flux, in the atmosphere, causing disposition of an inaccurate landing. But, this was your first go, so I can't blame you…"
Aryl just stared at them and shook her head.
"I'll just pretend I didn't hear a word of that, shall I," she sighed and took another long sip from her mug. "You, John, should've told 'im first. Not left me to pick up where Rose left off…" Aryl sighed again.
"Rose was in a coma for a year?" the Doctor repeated. "A year."
"That's right. Like you don't know, John. Marching in and out of this house, researching ways to save her, going to visit her at the hospital, doing the impossible," Aryl let out a small giggle. "You should hear what Rose used to say Jackie said 'bout you sometimes!"
"I can imagine…" the Doctor muttered, shivering in reminiscent of the classic Tyler slap. His face deadpanned, all of a sudden and his voice was low, serious and dark. "Right, time to jog my memory, now tell me Aryl – what happened to Rose?"
"This isn't funny, John," Aryl said seriously. "You know what happened, and I know what happened. We both know. Don't make it any harder on me, and pretend you're some innocent bystander. 'Cos you're not. An' if I know what you're like, so I'm telling you know, this isn't funny."
"You don't understand! I'm not the same 'John' you're talking about. We may look the same, but we have, and we are, living completely different lives. I know this is hard to believe, but I do not know what happened. None of us know."
"Oh you know alrigh, mate," Aryl laughed coldly. "You were there when her condition worsened, in the first place. You were with her on that mission she was attacked by some that murderer. You were there when she called you to help her. You were there when I screamed, and found her, in the restaurant bathroom, lying in her own pool of blood. You were at the hospital, practically every day and night, next to her. For goodness sake. You tell ME what's happened to her, John Smith!" she raved, her face suddenly as red as a tomato and eyes threatening to spill with soft, salty tears.
"Sorry," she murmured bashfully, after a while – cheeks hot, red and flustered. "She's like my best friend, in Torchwood; she nabbed my attention when I first saw her. There was something different and we became friends instantly. Geez, this is starting to sound childish now…" she smiled good-naturedly. "I jus' feel sorry for Jackie and Pete and Tony and you. I feel sorry for Rose. She just snapped into a coma, like that. It was a huge shock to everyone. An' now, she can't even remember her own life!"
"I know, I know. And I'm sorry for whatever's happened. It's not your fault, Aryl," reassured the Doctor gently and a shadow loomed over his figure, as he leaned forward. "I know this is hard to believe, Aryl, but I am telling the truth. I'm not John Smith, I'm not the same human who turned up on this Universe with Rose, I'm not that man. He's my clone. I'm a Time Lord and my name is the Doctor, and I've come to help Rose."
"Seriously?" Aryl suddenly looked up and her eyes bulged.
"Yes," the Doctor stared deep into her eyes, to show him that he was telling the truth. "I need you to trust me, and I know this may be hard, but… I need you to tell me everything from start til finish. Everything that has happened to Rose and what's going on now. I'm as clueless as Mickey and everyone else here. Now tell me."
And the tale was told.
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"What do you mean, Rose 'can't' remember?" Captain Jack asked, feet crunching as he strolled across the gravel along with the Doctor, Mickey, Ianto, Martha, and their current new addition – Aryl.
"It's best you see for yourself," Aryl said with a sigh. "You can borrow my car. I parked it just outside."
"Vortex Manipulator," the Doctor demanded suddenly, just before anyone else could speak. With a grunt and roll of eyes, Jack handed the Doctor his Vortex Manipulator. Again.
"I don't see why I can't just handle it," Jack complained.
"You'd probably use it to run off and create the next Casanova, knowing you," Martha stated in a matter-of-factly manner.
"Killjoy!" Jack smirked.
"What's that thing, then?" Aryl solicited, peering inquisitively at the watch-like device . "It looks a bit like Rose's body watch thing. Only weirder."
"This is a--" the Doctor stopped. "No time to explain – just hold on."
"You want me to what?"
"Hold on!"
"Hang on, you aren't makin' any sense, you aren't. What d'you mean--"
The Captain flashed a dazzling smile at Aryl, winked at her and looped his arm through hers.
"Just hold on to me, and don't let go. Trust me, you don't wanna let go…" Jack said.
"Next stop: London Hospital. Please hold on tight and enjoy the ride," the Doctor stated, grinning madly, as he pressed down on the correct button. "ALLONS-Y!"
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A/N:-HEYYYYYYYYYYYA! Just warning you now: All This Trainer talk/And Talking About Trainers (depending on which side of this fabby site you're reading it from.) MAY not be updated on the Wednesday, 'cos I've got a funky school trippio going on that day and I won't be back until quite late.
Rainbow cookies and pickled radiators to all who REVIEW! That little button is lonely. Why don't you press it… Or else…*produces a kidnapped and gagged David Tennant* I shall NOT be responsible for my actions. Me is warning you now. *prepares sheeeeeeep of doom* *evilly content BAAAs in the background* Mwahahaha! I shall not be stopped now!
HEEHAW!
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PS:-RED BUS PASSES ARE BOUDACIOUS!