Chapter 3:
It had turned dark- and dark, on an English summer night, was late indeed- and the Doctor still had not returned to the Tylers' flat. Rose had grown more and more anxious, until she finally had gotten up to go check the TARDIS outside, hoping that the Doctor had just decided to return to the ship instead of having to deal with Jackie's...unique personality.
Jack had waited a while, and then given Jackie a mostly-sincere 'thank you for your hospitality' before heading outside to join Rose. The girl was leaning dejectedly against the blue box, staring blankly at the ground. "Now, Rose, don't you think you're being a bit immature?"
"Says the man who has to flirt at least once every five minutes."
"Hey, I managed to keep quiet for the whole afternoon."
"No you didn't. You made ten comments, Jack. I counted. I've committed most of them to memory, if you want to hear them."
Jack laughed, and leaned against her. "Sounds like an invitation. Seriously, though. Stop worrying. How often does the Doctor disappear for hours on the TARDIS?" It was a rhetorical question, and Rose didn't bother answering. "If the Doctor's in trouble, he'll handle it, or he'll call us for help."
She wanted to respond- say that she'd known the Doctor for longer, or something equally scathing- but was interrupted by a rather loud mew.
The two time-travellers looked down. Ember the cat sat at their feet, and began batting at their legs. Rose grinned. "I'll admit, that's pretty cute."
Ember mewed again, probably in agreement, or just a general declaration that cats were always cute. It was funny; felines always seemed so intelligent that it sometimes felt like they were actually trying to communicate. When Rose admitted as much to Jack, he said they were. "Or at least, by my time. A lot of Terran animals have evolved by the 51st century, or been genetically modified. Most have intelligence equal to humans, and probably even higher than some of us."
"Really? You're lying."
"No, I swear. I once had to work with a cat. Have you bred Silver Siamese by the 21st century? No? Well, she was one, beautiful girl. Had fur like starlight, I used to say. She'd bite me for it. Pretended she didn't like flattery, but I knew..."
And then Jack was off on another tale, launching into one of his amazing anecdotes, and really, no one could tell a story like the Captain. The two of them were so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn't even notice the cat, which had begun to drag its muzzle across the ground, in strange sweeping motions.
It was right near the end of the story- (something involving a mind reader, the Silver Siamese lady, and a fifteen tonnes of dynamite) when Jack noticed. "Hey, what's he doing?"
Maybe it was finished, or maybe the cat had heard them, but it stopped, and stared unblinkingly at them. It was difficult to see in the darkness, so Rose fished her cell-phone out of a pocket; snapping it open turned on a light, and they were able to see. They saw a small piece of chalk lodged between the cat's teeth; and more importantly they saw, in untidy, shaky letters, the word 'Rose' written on the pavement in front of them.
"Jack- that's my name!"
The captain gave her a look that said 'duh', and got down to the ground, looking the animal in the eye. "Can you understand us?"
A pause. Then a quick nod.
Communicating with a cat. Just another day in the life. Rose felt excitement bubbling up. "Are you- are you really a cat? Or are you an alien? Don't worry, we won't hurt you either way, we just want to know."
The cat bent down to write, but then dropped the chalk, looking indignant. It swiped its tail, and walked over to the TARDIS doors. It began to bat the blue box with its paw.
"You want to get in?" Nod.
"Listen, we just can't let you in- you need to tell us who you are," Jack insisted. It mewed, and it almost sounded like a voice, a voice talking to them, but the words were just out of reach. When the cat realised they obviously couldn't understand, it went and picked up the chalk. The two of them watch with interest as it drew with its mouth, slowly and clumsily spelling out two words; "The Doctor".
"Do you know him?" Rose felt a sudden flash of inspiration, which if she hadn't spent the last year or so travelling in a time machine, would have sounded impossible. "Are you the Doctor?"
A head shake. A nod. Then a half-shake. If it was possible to look both pensive and confused, Embers managed it. It settled for batting at the TARDIS door again.
"That's not an answer."
The cat glared at them.
"Listen," said Rose. "If you need help, we'll give it to you. But we can't just- we can't just let you in. We need to be able to trust you. Do you know the Doctor?"
There was a nod.
"Are you his friend?"
Another nod.
Rose and Jack shared a glance. Did they have a choice?
"Alright," Jack said grudgingly. "But this better be for a good reason. And you stay in Rose's arms. We're going to find out what exactly is going on here."
oOoOoOoOo
"Proof, proof, proof, proof…" The Doctor muttered away as he led Rory down the hallways. These ones were different; grey walls with normal yellow lights, and roundels along the walls. It almost seemed….friendlier. After a while the Doctor had even told Rory that he could put down that rod he'd found (or, to be accurate, a mercury dust extractor, whatever that was) but he wasn't about to relinquish the one piece of protection he had in this strange place. Nonetheless, things felt different here. Even if Rory still swore he could sense a nagging presence, it didn't seem so scary or scrutinising, but protective.
But then he remembered he was thinking about an unseen presence, and anything reassuring about the thought quickly vanished.
"Right in here, Rory," the Doctor said as they came to another door, and Rory was tempted to make a clever quip about how he'd been saying that for the last five minutes. But he was still too on edge, and before he could even formulate some words, the Doctor had opened the door.
The room was bright, and orange, and shining. Light seemed to sparkle off every surface. The place was circular, with stairs curling around the edges. The floor below appeared to be made of glass, as was the center-piece, something which looked like a hand-blown bauble, but one as large as the glassblower who made it. Around the cylindrical piece of glass was what appeared to be a console; one made of a million strange levers, screens and dials, doodas and whatsits. Rory's eyes seemed to be drinking it all in, but you could stand in there for hours, and not be able to take in every detail.
"Its...well..." He didn't want to say it. Not when he felt so confused and afraid. But it was beautiful.
"Pretty amazing, huh? The console room is the centre. Everything leads off from here. And I mean everything." He hopped down the stairs, skipping happily across the room, urging Rory towards the furthest set off doors. "Including that proof. Evidence. Previdence. No, that's rubbish. Let's stick with proof."
He grabbed Rory by the hand, and opened the door.
It's an interesting fact that the Doctor sometimes repeats himself. He loves to show off, but can't always think of new ways to do it. So if Rory had known this, or known what the Time Lord had done the first time Amy Pond entered the time machine, it would not have struck him as a surprise when the Doctor latched onto his arm, pushed the human out of the ship, and into the dead of space.
Rory screamed.
He screamed and flailed as he suddenly found his legs hanging in the middle of no-where; he was lost in space, there was no familiar tug of gravity, he was floating...and there were stars, all around, and he found himself looking down on a sphere of yellow, purple and blue, with the light of an unfamiliar orange sun on his back. Rory realised that he was floating in an alien sky, staring down at an alien planet. The Doctor smiled up at him, reassuring, his hand still a comforting life-line back to the ship.
The ship. Rory stared at it, amazed. Tentatively he let go of the dust extractor, reached out his now free hand and felt the ship's side. His sense of touch confirmed what his eyes told him, but logic said couldn't be true.
"It's...it's smaller on the outside."
"Why, yes-" the Doctor paused, looked momentarily disappointed. Then he smiled. "Close enough."
"I'm in space, right? I mean, this is real?" Rory felt a bubble of hysterical laughter jump from his throat. "How am I breathing?"
"There's a shell of air surrounding the ship. It's keeping you safe." He paused. "So, does this seem at all familiar? Do you recognise it?"
"Of course I do." How could he not? He'd seen it hundreds, maybe thousands of times; every time he stepped into it, it had been another adventure. An adventure purely fabricated by him and Amy, true, but real enough to two children with expansive imaginations. Touching the wood, it was slightly warm, even in the void of space, thrumming with life. He could scarcely believe it. "It's Amy's blue box."
From inside the box, the Doctor's face darkened. "Yes…yes it is. But do you remember it? Not a picture, not a drawing or model or cardboard box, but this itself?"
He just shook his head.
The Doctor- for it must surely be him, not some cruel trickster taking his name- let Rory hang there for a few more moments, before pulling him in. The moment he crossed the doors' boundaries gravity came crashing back; and with it came the reality of the situation.
Rory was in space. He was in space, in a blue box which was bigger on the inside, in the company of his girlfriend's imaginary friend. And he had apparently lost his memory.
This was not good.
oOoOoOoOo
Cats often like to bring little gifts to their owners.
Before Martha had finally decided on being a doctor, she had played around with the idea of being a vet, and so knew a thing or two about animal psychology. A cat bringing a little present, like a dead bird or mouse, could mean a couple things. While most people interpreted as either a cute gesture of affection or horribly disgusting, that wasn't the most common reason. More often that cat was annoyed at just how inept these silly humans were, and was trying to teach their pitiful owners to hunt, like they would do for their kittens. Martha would have suspected that today this was the case, but she had no idea what type of cat hunted for bow-ties.
Martha looked down at the bed which she had been working from for the last three days as she fought off a nagging cold. Among the pillows, computer, files and papers were the bow-ties. Their little cat, Marbles, had started bringing them from about ten AM onwards; there were four so far. One was Mickey's, which he only ever wore to important high-class events, but Martha had absolutely no idea where the other two had come from. The little rascal had probably stolen them from the neighbours.
"What's this, eh?" she said, plonking the animal in her lap. She dangled Mickey's bow-tie in front of the little cat. "You don't take clothes, okay? That is bad. Bad."
"You're right it's bad," Mickey said, stomping into the room. "You are not dressing him up in clothes. A man's got to have his dignity."
"He's a cat," Martha said teasingly. She'd never quite understand her husband's reaction to Marbles, which they'd gotten nearly a year before. Mickey had been pestering for a kid. She thought their line of work to be too dangerous for one. They'd compromised on a pet. She'd been given strict instructions not to become too silly or doe-eyed over Marbles, which was ridiculous, because Lord knew how much Mickey would faun over a son or daughter. "Besides, I'm not dressing him up. Marbles seems to have taken to stealing bow-ties for me."
Mickey snorted, and dropped his back-pack on to the ground. "Beats mice."
"Yeah, it does," she said, as the cat gave an indignant mew and stalked out of the room.
The man flopped down on the bed, nearly crushing a stack of reports, and the two began to argue about who had had a worst day. It was a close one. The clogging doom of stuffy noses and UNIT's intergalactic regulations, versus an infestation of space-bats. It was only when Mickey revealed the fact that space-bats can actually shoot laser from their eyes when victory clearly landed in the latter's favour.
It was about the time where Martha admitted defeat with a laugh (which quickly degraded into a cough) when the cat came back. He dropped something on Mickey's foot.
"Ouch! That hurt." He glared at the cat, and picked the thing off the ground. "A screwdriver? Where did you even get this?"
"Did you leave the tool box open again?"
"No."
Martha gave her husband a look.
"Okay, maybe I did." He picked the little tabby up by the scruff of the neck, and looked into its eyes. "Don't do that. It's dangerous. Those tools can hurt you, and that's just the human ones." The cat, of course, didn't seem to understand at them, or perhaps did and opted for the I'm-too-cute-to-punish look. To the cat's credit, it seemed to work, as the human sighed, placed Marbles back on the bed, and pocketed the screwdriver.
The two of them shortly decided to go hunt down something for supper ("preferably chicken soup"), and neither of them noticed the cat stalk over to the open lap-top, and labouriously began to type out the letters s-o-n-i…..
oOoOoOoOo
It was probably a testament to the on-the-job training that Amy had gotten that she was skilled enough at blowing up evil bases that she could do it with only half the necessary information, all the while holding a confused conversation with a complete stranger.
Except that he was not, apparently, a stranger, but actually the Doctor.
"How can you be the Doctor?" she had asked while they run.
"I can change my face! Oh, come on, don't you know that I'm an alien? When my species die we make a new body."
They heard people coming from the other direction. The two of them quickly dodged into a nearby room, locked the door, and mentally willed the guards to walk pass. Even as they heard the guards march past the door she whispered in his ear (which was uncomfortably close, due to the fact that the 'room' was really more of a very tiny closet stuffed with boxes) the words "I don't believe you."
He elbowed her and whispered, "You don't need to. Shut up."
The rest of the conversation was put on hold while they sneaked through the base- although sneaked might be an ill description, considering their stealth was somewhat hindered by the very obvious pink tusks and equipment they carried. Understanding passed between them; they should focus on getting the job done, and then sort everything else out.
Eventually they found themselves in a darker corridor; the ceiling was low, and the blue lighting made Amy feel like she had somehow wandered into a cave. A cave with drilling going on above it, that was. For the whole place was alive with sound; the alarm she had set off was still echoing through the entire base, but now it was also accompanied with a deep-throated grinding. It was the unmistakable noise of machinery, guiding them to the centre of the base of operations. It was loud enough here that they could speak, and not have to worry about them being tracked by the sound of her voices. Perhaps this wasn't the best time. Maybe she should have kept on going, and interrogate the mysterious man later, but Amy was afraid that if she didn't act soon she'd loose her chance.
"So, Time Lords can just go and change their bodies?"
"Yes! Which way do we go next?"
"Um- through here." She recalled walking through this door shortly after they had landed. "Okay, so prove it. What does the Doctor travel in?"
"TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Shaped like a 1963 police box."
"Hmmph." Amy questioned him some more, but it was difficult thinking of general questions to ask, when the Doctor hoarded his secrets so jealously. "Right then. Who am I?"
That's when the man hesitated. "I...don't know."
"Ha!" She turned to face him, fury radiating from her body. "So you were lying. Tell me the truth!"
"I am telling you the truth!"
"No, you're not! You keep saying that- but the Doctor would never, ever forget about me, ever if he had died or changed bodies or whatever. So you better stop lying, before I..." Before I what? Amy wasn't sure. "...bite you. Hard."
"I haven't forgotten you. I never met you, not yet."
"And how's that supposed to work?"
"Easily! Look!" He was shouting to be heard over the noise. "I'm a time traveller. You don't recognise me. I don't recognise you. One moment I was in London, next I'm on Treefarex Six. By my best guess there's something, or someone, messing with the linear flow of my temporal time stream, and swapped two points within it. So I'm a Doctor who came before your Doctor. Basic deduction."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Yes!"
"Well, you're taking me for an idiot."
"Well, maybe you are an idiot!" The man snarled at her. "In a situation like this, the first thing I should be doing is tracking down the anomaly, but instead I'm crawling around some bloody facility, taking twice as I should because some idiot ape girl is too thick to know when to shut her gob."
Amy felt fury course through her. She opened her mouth to reply-
-but then there was the sound of the guards.
The pair turned around, instantly alert. Through the sound of their shouting and the machinery they hadn't even noticed the enemy's approach. They couldn't see them, not yet, but it sounded like they were just a corner away.
Amy knew with a feeling like lead, that they were too close for them to escape. They had been stupid, standing around like sheep for slaughter. She started to ask what should they do, did he have a plan, but in answer strong arms gripped her. She looked around to see the man pinning her in place, securing her in his grip, taking the sonic screwdriver. She screamed and struggled and yelled, angry at him, angry at herself, and tried to break free. The false-Doctor just held tighter, and whispered; "Stop struggling. It'll make it easier."
Amy just fought harder. She could get away, she had to- this man had no handcuffs, no rope, with time she could break loose of his sweaty hands. But so soon, too soon, the guards caught up, surrounding them, and Amy knew with a horrible feeling of defeat, that she was captured.
oOoOoOo
Rory felt numb.
Nothing made sense; nothing was believable. He felt like a lost little kid...but no, it was worse than that, because kids are allowed to feel confused, to not know what was going on. But he was older, wiser, and he still didn't know what was happening. Around him the man chattered and talked, making dings and bangs, saying words that should be reassurances but felt like reminders of just how strange everything was. The Doctor spoke like they were old friends, referencing adventures they'd shared, forgetting that Rory didn't understand anything he was saying, and what little Rory did comprehend, seemed scary and confusing and utterly impossible.
But somehow, in another life, a life he had forgotten, this had obviously been routine. "Just...is there any ways I can get my memory back?"
"Oh, undoubtedly! What did you think I was working on?" the Doctor assured him. He then babbled out some sentences which made no sense- something about action potentials and psychic resonance and retcon, and Lord knows what else- before finally settling down next to the human. Then he spoke in something resembling sense. "I'll just need to make a psychic connection with your mind. I should be able to sort through it, find where your memories have been hidden, and bring them back to the surface."
"Right...right. Okay, what will I have to do?"
"Nothing, just keep still. Well, not literally sit still, though that would probably help. No, I mean, keep your mind still. And, well, I'm sorry Rory. Usually when you walk through someone else's head you give them a chance to put up barriers. Just common courtesy, but we don't really have that luxury..."
"Wait, wait, what does that mean? That you'll be able to see all of my thoughts?" Rory suddenly thought of this near stranger having access to all of the things he'd ever thought- even the stupid, the mean, the inappropriate- and blushed.
"Yes. Don't worry, I'll try not to look too closely! But your memories could be hidden anywhere. I can't let you but up barriers that would hide them. So...try not to kick me, okay?"
The Doctor leaned forward, and placed his fingers on Rory's temples.
It is near impossible to accurately describe what happened next, as the English language simply does not have adjectives to describe a physic encounter. The best one can manage is through inaccurate metaphors and almost-comparisons.
Rory found himself closing his eyes, trying to feel calm and peaceful. That didn't last long when he first felt it. It was like...it was like...cold fingers, running through his mind. Light and quick and curious, and shocking to the touch. Rory jumped back from them; they were alien, they didn't belong here. But then a voice- although it wasn't a voice, it was more like a thought, but it sounded all wrong- spoke, and told him to stop that.
The fingers started to scurry along what could best be described as the seams of Rory's mind...and it felt like somebody running their fingers along a delicate edge, not really looking or taking in details, just noting and moving on. It was strange, and awkward, but Rory found himself able to pull himself back. It was like a check-up at the doctor's. It wasn't a good feeling when someone pressed strange instruments in places they didn't belong, but it had to be done, so you let them do it.
The thought-voice spoke again. Maybe you can help me a bit.
How? Rory asked, instinctively.
Think of the right things. The TARDIS, me, Amy, aliens, things like that. Those ideas might still be linked to your hidden memories.
So Rory did. It was easy. These things came to his mind like at the whisper of suggestion; the little cardboard blue box that he'd helped make when he was ten, the Star Wars movies, his old Raggedy Doctor costume, Amy's red hair gleaming in the sun-light...
The pictures kept coming, linked to one another. Rory could feel the Doctor's probing mind leaping from one thought to the other, but almost started to forget his presence, as he became absorbed in his own thoughts. There was the smell of the forest where they used to play as kids, the taste of fish custard that had been shoved down his throat, the brilliance of that blue box hanging in space, the question of what Amy would think if she saw where he was right now...
And that's when it happened.
The Doctor started to press more urgently, focusing on the thoughts, and this sent shivers of shock through Rory's mind. The cold fingers were pressing against his memories; and they belonged someone he didn't know, he'd never met before, but he was here, in the most private part of the mind. And now the Doctor was picking up pace, becoming more hurried, and feelings of fear seemed to leak into Rory's mind, a poisonous, intrusive spill.
Rory reacted with revulsion, bucking and jumping back, and that voice said to stop, relax, but the voice wasn't meant to be in here at all and it just made everything worst- and then Rory found himself pressed against the presence, gripping those cold fingers dead on, but they weren't fingers; now they were becoming a pool of cool water, infinitely deep...
...and he was falling...
...There was a taste of ashes, and a burning tingle on his skin, the remnants of the regeneration. He had forgotten that warm feeling as he used new muscles to climb and pull, and it was an alien joy to feel unfamiliar hands pull his body up; and ah, the fresh English air! It smelled like apples. Well, no, really it smelled nothing like apples, but he'd really love an apple. And who was that girl there? Did she have any apples?...
That little girl. That little girl was Amy. Rory could see her in his mind's eye, clear as day.
...a cricket bat, a cricket bat, who hit people with cricket bats? The same person who carried hand-cuffs, apparently...
Rory shuddered...these weren't his thoughts, this wasn't his mind, but as he struggled to escape, he found himself falling further...
...Humans! Humans! This was no time to be thinking of things like this- not when there were cracks in time, and a woman from his personal future, and missing memories, but did they listen? He jumped back in shock as he felt Amy's hands against his skin, her body against his. This wasn't the time, whatever she might be feeling, whatever he might be feeling. How could he stop this? Ah! Yes, her fiancé. Of course. Find him, that would be a good start...
...Rory took the shot, the one intended for the Time Lord, and now Amy was crying, yelling, pleading, but she wouldn't even have the chance to mourn, not as the destructive maw of the crack began to wrap around her fiancé's body...
...The human's psyche shuddered as he watched, terrified at what he was seeing, but still unable to do anything...
...there was a surge of anger, and self-hatred, even as he watched the white Flesh drip onto the TARDIS floor, and the promise that they would find her, wherever her true body had been taken...
...mist and smoke, and the sound of gunfire, ran through the air. He was running, and the solace of his blue box stood clear to the side...The body in the memories turned, and Rory felt a cold shock when he saw himself, struggling across the battlefield. A grenade exploded to their right; it sent up a cloud of dust, and Rory was hidden from view. There was a loud groan, and he was just able to see him fall- stupid human physiology, why did it have to be so weak?...
The scene shifted once more. ...He laid Rory the bed, and carefully inspected him. No real damage, just bruising down his side- so why was he out? Maybe he'd hit his head. Maybe he'd gotten hit by a dose of knock-out gas. It didn't matter. Either way, he'd be down for the next few hours, so there was time to plan their next move, to find their next contact...
Then it was like the water pushed and rebelled; it formed that cold hand around him, holding him back before he fell into yet another memory. Rory struggled weakly, but he was too exhausted to do anything as the alien mind slowly guided him, pulling him away and out, as his own physical form settled around him-
With a shudder, he opened his eyes, and Rory never thought he'd be so thankful to find himself in a body that was his own.
oOoOoOoOo
Author's Note: Although I'm trying to update the story at least once a week, I realise this chapter came a little bit later than I wanted, mostly due to being beyond busy at work right now. Hopefully it came out okay, although I think this is one of the chapters I've found most difficult to write out of any story I've done before. So I'd love to hear feedback!
(Also; Doctor Who starts up again in just a month! Who's ready for "Let's Kill Hitler"?)