Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. It took longer to write than expected, and I've been rather busy of late. On the bright side, this meant that I got to see the new episode before posting, and have been able to make a couple of slight improvements in light of what we learned from it.
That being said; there will be slight spoilers for "Let's Kill Hitler". Nothing major, but still.
Chapter 5:
oOoOoOoOo
Rose felt a shuddering thud as the TARDIS landed. She felt the familiar tingle of excitement, even if this time she was mixed with far more worry than usual. Okay, this should be it, the Doctor wrote.
Jack took a cursory look at the sensors, just to check where they were. (This had become routine ever since the Doctor had once landed the TARDIS five miles under the water. It had taken weeks to get all the fish out of the wardrobe room). Once they had determined that they were on Earth, and more importantly, somewhere habitable, they bounded to the door, with only the most private worries that the Doctor's split mind wasn't hidden in the middle of a battlefield.
Jack decided to go first and cautiously swung it open. It was somewhat anti-climactic to find themselves staring into someone's bedroom.
A black woman was standing there, and her face broke into a large smile when she saw the Captain. "Jack!" She stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. "Isn't this a surprise?"
"Tell me about it," he said. Jack sounded suave, but Rose could notice the confusion that he kept carefully hidden. But before he could say anything else, the woman noticed Rose, who had stepped forward.
Her brow furrowed. "Rose?"
The girl stopped in surprise. She could maybe expect that his woman would know Jack, what with his rather mysterious past, but she had never seen this woman in her life.
"We seem to be at somewhat of a disadvantage," said Jack, as gallantly as possible. "You seem to know our names, but you are?"
"What do you mean? I'm Mar..." she trailed off, looking confused. Then something bordering understanding seemed to dawn on her face. "Do you really not know who I am?"
"Never seen you in my life," confirmed Jack.
"Right. And how long would that life be, exactly?"
Rose and Jack exchanged glances at the odd question. "Um...about thirty-eight years, I guess."
Neither of them could read the expression on the strange woman's face.
There was the sound of feet pounding on the floor, and another man came thundering into the room. Water dripped from his hands. He looked around with an excited expression. "I thought I heard the TARDIS! Jack!" He smile became even larger when he saw the other woman in the room. "Rose!"'
She could only stare. Because recognition had clicked inside Rose's mind. She knew this man- this big, muscled man, dressed in black and with a scraggly beard. It was Mickey.
"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her gaping expression. "Do I have soap on my face? What are you doing here, anyway? And where's the Doctor?"
"I think," said Jack, carefully, "We've gotten ourselves into a little bit of a mix-up here."
Mickey and the strange woman exchanged glances, and a wordless communication passed between them. Mickey sighed. "Just once I'd like the Doctor to appear for something normal. Just once."
oOoOoOoOo
Once again, Rory found himself wandering around the TARDIS halls.
Now he knew where he was. He had been told he wasn't in danger. But he didn't feel any safer than before. He wasn't sure where he was going. Before, he'd had a goal in mind, even if it was only one as vague as 'escape'. He still wanted that, but seeing as he was floating in a sentient ship in the void of space, he figured that was probably not going to happen. So he settled for putting as much space between him and once-imaginary friend as possible.
Eventually, he found himself in front of a door. He stopped, although he was not completely certain why. Rory had already passed a few in his haste to get away. After he had curiously peered into had been filled with tanks of very strange looking almost-fish, he'd been freaked out completely, and had become determined to ignore the rest. Suddenly, though, he realised how exhausted he was, and he wanted nothing more than to look inside and hope that he'd found a place he could sleep and hide.
Opening the door, Rory was pleased to find that was exactly where he'd found himself. Inside was a bed-room, the walls painted a beautiful blue, filled with ornate Victorian styled furniture. There was a bed, and Rory thought for a moment that was all he could want.
Until he realised the bed's covers were a mess. They'd been thrown into disarray, the streets messy on the floor. Coming closer to inspect them, he found they were also dirty, covered in mud. That made him pause, and think- looking down at his arms, he realised he was more than a little bit dirty himself. With sudden realisation, it clicked. This was the bed he had woken up in. He hadn't recognised it at first; it had been dark, and he had been confused, but now it seemed obvious. His body remembered the walls he'd stumbled along t in the dark, and looking back out into the corridor, this was where he'd first found himself.
But- but that made no sense. Originally he'd been wandering around for ages before he'd finally found himself here. How could he come to the same place in a couple of minutes? It was almost like he'd been guided...
Rory remembered that the ship was alive. With a shudder, he tapped his head, as if checking that nothing but his own mind was inside it.
So, this was the room he had woken up in- but was it his room? If the Doctor was telling the truth and they did travel together, presumably he had somewhere to sleep.
Rory began investigating by opening the curtains to some windows, not quite sure what to expect. Maybe a view of stars stretching out in front of him? Instead, he found himself looking at a small walled garden, with herbs and plants and even a little bird bath. He stared in amazement. Had they landed somewhere else? Or was this garden inside the ship, too? Was that even possible? There seemed to be sunlight, but looking out, Rory couldn't discern where exactly it was coming from.
Actually, where did any of the light come from? The room didn't have any lamps. He noticed how when he'd opened the curtains they room had automatically become dimmer. Geez, that was creepy.
Not feeling much reassured, he headed off the dresser, passing the bed's side table on the way. The items laying on the stand could have been either his or Amy's. There was a watch, and a glass of water, and a book. Closer inspection showed that it was a copy of the complete adventures of Sherlock Holmes. First edition. Signed by Sir Arthur Connan Doyle. It barely looked a year old. He put it down with a grimace, not quite sure what to think.
Right, then. The wardrobe. He opened it tentatively, slightly afraid that he'd find anything from a Magical Land of Talking Lions to a skeleton in there. To his relief, it was filled with nothing but clothes. Some of them he definitely recognised. That there was his favourite vest, though looking slightly more worn than he remembered, and there was one of his old t-shirts. Amy's red scarf was hanging on a hook, and he suspected that one of those pairs of shoes were the ones she'd spent an hour eying up last time she'd dragged him shopping. Of course, there were many articles of clothing he had never seen in his life, but Rory quickly discovered that all the male clothing would have fit him perfectly.
There were some things that just didn't make any sense, especially for his closet. Why would Amy have brought along (an admittedly) sexy police woman's uniform? And Rory had absolutely no idea why he would have actual metal armour and sword lying right next to the jeans.
Finally, he shut the closet, and rubbed his face.
This was all just so...so weird. In a way, it was almost stranger than everything else that had happened today. That was all just- stuff. He'd read or watched plenty of science-fiction and fantasy. How many times had he read about the average every-dude who suddenly found himself with super powers or destined to save the world? Hundreds of time. It was like pop-culture had been training him for something like this to happen. Hell, it was just like suddenly waking up to find all his childhood games with Amy were true.
But this- this was something different entirely. It was like whenever you found yourself in a near stranger's house or office. You wandered around the place, interested, but not sure how to interact with all these private bits from his or her life. Standing there, Rory realised he'd become a stranger to himself.
Nowhere was this more apparent than on the chesterfield, lined with all the little ornaments and pieces that life collects. There was incredibly fancy looking perfume bottle. There were bracelets that emitted a low hum, an actual quill with ink, a rather creepy robotic head, and a plastic twirling thing that Rory couldn't even guess at the purpose of. He poked it tentatively. It didn't hurt him. He supposed that he wouldn't have put anything in the room that was dangerous.
It was with this hypothesis in mind that he picked up a strange, metallic flat disk that lay in the palm of his hand. It was a rather dull white colour, and didn't seem to have much use but to take up space. When he picked it up, though, it flickered with life, and a three-dimensional picture seemed to shiver in the air. A hologram, Rory realised immediately, and in the picture it was himself. Him, and Amy, and even the Doctor, wearing what had to be exactly the same tweed suit. It wasn't just a picture, however, but a few moments played on a loop. The tiny replicas of light appeared to be standing somewhere sunny, grinning stupidly at the camera or whatever device took the shot. Then the Doctor saw something out of frame; his eyes went all wide, and he leaned out of the hologram, only for Amy to roughly pull him back in by his collar, wrapping her arms around her two boys.
Rory moved his hand slightly, and the scene changed. This one was of just him, with his feet stuck in some goo in what looked like a space-port; Rory watched himself look up, and notice that someone was filming him before recoiling in embarrassment.
More moments went by, and Rory watched, entranced. The detail was amazing, like he'd just been thrown into an HD documentary about his own life. But everything was just fragments, making no more sense than the memories he had picked up inside the Doctor's head, although thankfully with less emotional baggage. There was no context for these moments, no explanation. No way for him to gauge what his life had become.
But then, Rory supposed he must be happy, right? I mean, we're smiling, in most of the holograms. Grinning. 'Course, the Doctor kept getting distracted and wandered out of half the photos, and Amy's the only one who seemed to be smiling in every one. But then, why wouldn't she be? This was here dream. Her raggedy Doctor had finally taken her away in a Time Machine.
As he thought it, the picture changed. And there was he and Amy, together. His breath hitched, because this isn't just any scene. He was wearing a grey suit and Amy was in a bridal gown, her red-hair brilliant against the white dress. They were smiling, both of them, looking so incredibly happy.
That's right. The Doctor had mentioned it, but he'd been too confused to really take notice. He was married. There had been a stag night and a wedding day and a dress and everything. Married.
That was...that was hard to believe. Amy was- well, she was his world. They'd been best friends forever. But that was it.
Rory wished it was more. He couldn't remember ever really feeling anything for another girl or guy in his entire life. He noticed when they were good looking or hot, but in a dispassionate way. He couldn't imagine holding hands with them, or kissing, or lying in bed together. The only person he could imagine doing as much with was Amy. Sometimes, he wanted her so much that he seemed to ache. But the problem was that she didn't seem to feel the same way for him. Their friend Mel said that he was stupid, and he should just tell her, but that was wrong. The romantic in Rory protested that you couldn't just tell someone that you were in love with them….you had to move into it, slowly. He wasn't asking for eyes locking across the room or sudden inspiration in the middle of the night- (life wasn't a romance novel)- but something more dignified than him stutteringly explaining his feelings.
Besides….it was all too easy for Mel. She didn't care what anybody thought. But Rory did, very much, care what Amy thought about him, and he was petrified with fear to think that she would tell him, straight out, that she didn't return his feelings.
But…she did. Or she would. Or had. The difficulties of tenses aside….they were married. Married. Rory looked into the picture, absorbing every detail of it. Amy looked older, but not in a bad way. She seemed more mature, more adult.
This wasn't a kid, this was a woman. A woman who had flown away in a box and seen the universe. The picture changed again, and Rory was reminded of the things she must have seen. A time-machine! A space-ship! Adventures that he could only imagine.
But now...now she was kidnapped. Shivering, Rory suddenly recalled the memory which he'd taken from the Doctor's head; he could see Amy, standing in the centre of the console room. He could see her terrified expression. Far too real, he could hear her asking for an explanation, pleading for her husband to stand by her, and watched from a stranger's eyes as he disobeyed, and stepped back. The Time Lord's memory was almost painful to experience, filled with a hundred extra senses that a human brain couldn't even begin to understand, but even that wasn't nearly as overwhelming as the expression of pure terror on Amy's face as her body collapsed into a white liquid. Somewhere, out there, she was all alone. She was in danger.
And what was he doing? Cowering in his room.
Well, what else am I supposed to do? One part of him said. He hadn't asked for this. He had chosen any of this to happen. He was just human. A human kid, really. He couldn't be expected to fight an army.
But he had. He might not remember, but he had chosen this life.
And he was married. He'd said the vows. And once again, even if he didn't remember, he knew what they were and what they meant. He couldn't just sit here, with Amy in danger, doing nothing.
Rory placed the hologram disk back down on the desk. He took a deep breath and tried to feel brave. It didn't seem to work much, but that didn't stop him from turning back towards the door, and preparing to find the Doctor again.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Several hours after first landing in Mickey's bedroom, Rose found herself sitting on the floor, wires in her lap and a solder gun in hand.
She'd never been particularly skilled at physics, especially alien physics which might as well be magic to her. But once she was given instructions, Rose didn't find it all that hard to put some different electronic components together. It could be difficult and fiddly, but in a way it was enjoyable to devote yourself completely to a task, and in those moments where her fingers could work without much in the way of higher management, her brain was allowed to be free and consider the position she was in.
The future. She was in the future. Honestly, Rose was a little embarrassed that she hadn't cottoned on to that fact more quickly.
But that was the thing about the future, or at least the near one. If you weren't on a space-station or alien planet, it didn't seem all that radically different from the present. Take the bedroom they were in. At first glance, she easily could have mistaken it for one from 2005. It was only at second glance that you noticed the little inconsistencies. Like how the windows didn't have drapes, but became tinted at the press of a button, or the way the music was controlled by a remote control the size of her finger and a spinning disc instead of buttons. Or the presence of older-Mickey. That was quite a give-away, as well.
It was funny. Rose had been to the future, before. But this didn't quite seem comparable to meeting that Dalek, or even seeing the eventual destruction of the Earth. Those were impersonal trips. New places, new people- not much different from landing on another planet, really. But to see the same people, and see how they'd changed- well, it was kind of like walking down familiar stairs in the dark, but tripping because somebody had changed the height of the steps. Rose had felt that first horrible lurch of fear when she'd realised- had she done it again? Accidently landed in the future, having disappeared for years? Mum must have been worried sick! What could have happened in all that time?
Mickey had consoled her. "It's okay, its fine. You haven't….skipped anything, like last time."
"I haven't?" Rose had asked, with a wave of relief. "But…how does that work?"
Jack had stepped in then. "It's all about the time lines. In some cases, you leap over a few years, in other cases you cross-over, repeat certain moments again. As long as you step lightly and don't avoid paradoxes, you should be fine. What is this 'last time', by the way?"
"It's complicated," Rose and Mickey said at the exact same moment.
"It always is," said a voice.
It was the stranger, the one which had first greeted them when the TARDIS had landed. In all honesty, Rose had almost forgotten about her. Now she really surveyed the lady; she was in her mid-thirties, perhaps, with dark skin and black hair, pulled into a million little braids. Beneath her toned skin she looked somewhat pale, and there were deep circles beneath her eyes, making her look tired and worn. Despite this, she had a playful smile on her face.
They stared at her, and the woman had seemed to notice their confusion. "Ah. Right. Introductions. Always weird to do it a second time- I'm Doctor Martha Smith-Jones. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but that would be a bit redundant." At this moment, she began to cough violently. Once she was finished, she smiled ruefully. "I'd shake your hands, but…"
"You've already hugged me," Jack pointed out. He gave a predatory smile. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."
Martha laughed. "You wouldn't."
Rose felt questions budding at her lips- there was something important about this woman, that she hadn't quite put into place, and that was without factoring in everything she had to ask about Mickey. But before she could ask anything, she felt something land on her feet. She glanced down. "Oh, look! You've got a cat, too."
"Oh, yeah," said Mickey, bending down to pick it up. "This is Marbles."
"I wonder if he's got a Doctor attached, too," said Jack.
"Wait- what?"
Rose would have laughed at the expressions on Mickey and Martha's faces, if at that moment a quite loud howl hadn't greeted them as Embers came running out of the blue box, right towards the new cat. The two regarded each other disdainfully. Territories and all that, Rose suspected.
Martha had gotten down onto her knees, and poked her cat questionably. "Doctor?"
"Nah," said Rose. "The cat ain't the Doctor. Just talking through them, right Jack?"
"That's right," said Jack. "By the way, I have two pyshsic voices yelling in my head, telling us to stop dawdling and to get into the TARDIS. They're being quite insistent."
Mickey sighed, and began to wander towards the ship. "Looks like we've got a lot to catch up on."
The next thirty minutes had been complicated, to say the least. Jack and Rose did their best to try and explain everything that had happened to their new recruits- although, to be honest, it was mostly Jack who did all the talking. Rose barely understood what was happening as it was; all she knew that there were now two Doctors, or something. But Mickey and Martha had wanted a more in-depth explanation, and they seemed to understand what Jack told them, even Mickey, much to Rose's surprise. Whatever had happened in the time since she had last seen him, running away in the Cardiff plass, had changed him a lot.
Secretly, Rose suspected that it shouldn't really have taken as long as it did to debrief everyone. Especially since it took about ten seconds to confirm that both Doctors were here. Unfortunately, it was this which seemed to be rather detrimental to the process of doing, well, anything.
The Doctor had always been a…big personality. When he was in the room, it sometimes seemed to Rose that he was the only one in it. So suddenly imagine two of them, even if they were 'weaker' or 'diluted' or whatever, both vying for complete attention. And fighting to use the same screen, where all of their words appeared in the same italic type, making it near impossible for anyone reading to follow the track of the conversation.
Don't be silly, one Doctor had said. This couldn't have been caused by an explosion of huon energy, that would have ripped
A hole in the space time continuum, I know. But not if it was directed by a
Phase Inducer, of course. But where in the universe do you find one of those these days?
Well, if you were thinking half-straight, you'd remember that-
"How can you two fight so much," Mickey had complained. "You're the same person!"
Oi, said one of the Doctors, or perhaps both of them at once. Think about every single decision you've ever made. Try to tell me you wouldn't have a thing or two to say to the person who made them. Still think you'd get along well with yourself?
"Two of me would get along better than you lot," Rose said, even as thought about all the stupid things she had done, including the time she'd gotten absolutely smashed and nearly crashed her boyfriend's car. But honestly, she suspected that two warring armies might cope better than the Doctor and himself.
"Two Roses," said Jack. "Now, wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes?"
"Like you'd just look," Mickey had joked.
Ah, yes. Add in lewd comments from the boys, on top of the bickering. All Rose could do was share a sigh with Martha.
Eventually, Rose had nearly given up following the conversation, only understanding enough to realise that the Doctors (with the very occasional input of their companions) were trying to think of a way to fuse the pieces of the Doctor's mind and his body back together. It took a while, but eventually they compiled a list of the different things they needed, and even produced a diagram of wires on another screen. Even on a digital piece of equipment, it almost looked like it had been drawn by two arguing kids armed with crayons. Psychic conversations and psychic drawings; Rose wasn't sure which one she liked least.
Most of the stuff should be in the TARDIS. Probably in the tools closet, but you should probably check the third washroom.
"The one by the wardrobe?" Rose had asked
No, no, the one by the sun-deck, said someone who was possibly a different Doctor, while (probably) the other said, Also, look in the library, under the green sofa!
Even with all of that, we'll probably be missing some parts.
"We'll do what we can," said Jack, determinedly. "I'm good at improvising."
Nobody dared say what the alternative was, even though they were all thinking it.
"We've got some tech, too. You might want to look through it," said Martha. "It's mostly scavenged from random space-ships, but you never know what you'll find."
"Sounds like a plan," agreed Jack. With the Doctor having been reduced to two voices bickering in a computer screen, he seemed to have become the impromptu leader. "Everyone break-up, and get looking for parts, and bring them back to the console room if you think you've got anything."
The screen beeped. Everyone turned to look at the Doctor's message. Actually, probably best that you just leave it all in the bedroom.
If we wire the stuff in the TARDIS and It misfires, that much energy through the girl's temporal circuits could cause an accidental surge of energy which would totally destroy the facric of space-time.
"But if we just wire it out in the bedroom," said Rose, "All we'll do it blow up the house?"
Nobody even had to look at screen to guess at the Doctor's overly enthusiastic response. Exactly!
Martha just shrugged, and headed out of the box. "Won't be the first time the Doctor caused my room to blow up, don't worry."
oOoOoOoOoOo
So, you're in an underground facility, being shot at by guards, you're handcuffed, and the only person who's on your side is a stranger who claims to be your best friend. If the adrenaline and fear hadn't been busy pumping through Amy's body, she might have taken a moment to reflect just how strange her life had gotten.
Improvise, she'd been told. Improvise.
Amy clutched the rod in her hands, feeling clumsy and useless. But she had to think of something, and just sitting there wouldn't help. She pressed the piece of equipment vertically on the ground, awkwardly holding the bottom red button with her fingers. There was no way to hold both buttons with her hands simultaneously, but then, maybe she could get a little more creative. She stuck the device into her mouth, praying that this wouldn't have any unintended side-effects such as melting her tongue, and bit down to where she thought the other button was. She didn't feel it, and stuffed the device even further in her mouth until she nearly felt the need to gag- but there, she felt it! Moving slowly, with only the sense of touch to guide her, and trying to ignore the bitter taste of metal, she finally brought her teeth down on the button. She felt it indent, and her teeth began to chatter as the sub-transistor began to vibrate. She suspected it would be glowing if she could see it. These things usually did.
"Evve got eet!" she mumbled as loudly as she could.
"Good!" The Maybe-Doctor waved his sonic screw-driver one last time at the door barring the guards. "Now, come-on."
She tried to convey that she was going have a little bit of difficulty coming or going anywhere, but that was hard to do when both hands and mouth were incapacitated. Thankfully, the man took her roughly by the arms, pulling her to her feet. Amy felt the rod slip in her hands, but managed to keep hold of it.
The moment she rose to her feet, she heard the firing of the gun; there was a loud whine as a shot passed just centimeters above her head. Amy tried her best to ignore the fact that the shots made the air smell of burning metal. For all that she was often described as a 'flaming red-head', she didn't want that description to become literal.
"Keep low," the Doctor advised her. As he crouched he turned the screwdriver on to the device. "This needs some modifications, and then we need to throw it in over there-" he gestured to the part of the platform that was most directly over the center of the turning pot- "so that it can affect as many molecules as possible."
It was difficult to hear him over the sound of the churning chemicals below and gun-shots; that latter of which, incidentally, would be directly blocking their attempts to get to the former. To get to the other side of the platform someone would have to be directly in the line of fire. Amy regarded the distance critically. It would be possible to throw the device part of the way, but you'd have to break cover for at least a few moments. She tensed her legs, and was about to tighten her grip on the sub-transistor, before she realised that she could hardly do it- she was a rubbish thrower even at the best of times, but with her hands bound?
The Maybe-Doctor seemed to have come to the same conclusion, moments before even she had. He took the device out of her hands.
But- but, she couldn't just have him risk himself. Even with fear screaming at her brain to hide forever, even if she didn't even know who this guy was, it wouldn't be right to let him face this alone.
So she tensed up anyway. "Distraction," she hissed at her companion.
She leaped to her feet, jumping up and down with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She waved her cuffed arms, yelled as loud as possible. "Oh, please, please! Don't hurt me! I surrender! I- I never meant to come here, I don't want to die, oh please." She'd taken drama at A-Levels, and she was pumping every piece of acting skill she could into the performance. She tried to look at pretty and innocent as possible- good looks had helped her pass the drivers' exam, and she hoped the same principle would apply here.
A couple of the more gullible guards began to lower their weapons, and even though a couple of the others let of shots, they were so errantly of the mark, it was obvious that they were nothing but a warning.
"How do we know we can trust you and-" the big, lead guard began...
….just as the Doctor skirted from their protection, and across the platform.
You can't, Amy thought victoriously in response, ducking down back behind the barrier of the console.
There was the sound of guns firing; the Doctor, already half-way across the platform with his strong legs, hurled the device into the air. Amy watched it arc gracefully through the air. One of the guards had the clever idea of trying to shoot it down; but it was too small, and their aim was too wild, and they barely had the target in sight before it disappeared over the other side of the rail. Meanwhile, the Doctor had come hurling back, crouched low to make his target smaller. The guards shot at him too; most missed, but one hit him right on the side. Amy heard him gasp in pain as he tumbled over. Amy ducked out of her hiding place, barely thinking what she was doing, and grabbed for him. She managed to clutch his jacket, and even though her grip was perilous, even though the whine of shots was overwhelming, she managed to drag the larger figure back into the safe shadow of the console.
A moment later, Amy heard a quiet 'plop' as the device hit the swirling chemicals below.
She stared down at the Doctor, leaned against the metal wall. He'd been hit in the arm- his leather jacket was burned, but thankfully it seemed to have taken most of the impact of the blast. Amy realised that if he actually had been a security inspector, he truly would have been ashamed with the operation being run here- what type of evil organisation armed their guards with weapons that weren't even fatal?
Nonetheless, she was worried for the Doctor. His eyes- shockingly blue, she noticed- were open, but they looked distant and unfocused. "Poisoned," he breathed. "Would kill humans and about fifteen other dominant life forms- you are human, aren't you?" Amy nodded, and she saw something resembling a satisfied smile pass his lips. "Thought so. Anyway, it won't kill me, just 'cause a whole lot of pain. I should probably get some anti-toxin into me quick."
Amy felt relieved. Whatever her thoughts about this guy, she didn't want him dead.
Suddenly, she became aware of the fact that the guns had stopped firing. Instead, another, more subtle sound had replaced it. It was a bubbling, or a popping, something akin to popcorn in a microwave. She cautiously peeked over the rim of the platform, ready to duck if they were to shoot again; peering over the side, she saw that the liquid had become to turn a horribly venomous looking neon blue, and was frothing with bubbles, like a Jacuzzi from hell.
There was a smell in the air, too. Something that was sour and bitter, and although Amy couldn't think of anything to compare it to, every neuron in her brain was telling her that it was something bad.
She felt the Doctor get up behind her. She turned, and found to her amazement, that he was already walking into the centre of the platform, with barely a falter in his step. His hands were shoved nonchalantly into the pockets of his leather jacket. If not for the nasty burn mark on his arm and the surroundings, one could almost imagine him out for a casual stroll in the park.
The guards weren't shooting at them, either. They were still standing behind the gate. The bangs from their direction proved that at least a couple of them were still trying to break through. The others seemed to have realised that it was pointless, and had given up, instead opting to stare bitterly at them.
But why weren't they shooting?
The Doctor turned to look at them, wearing an expression that seemed to suggest that he'd almost forgotten they were there, and if he wished it, they wouldn't be. He looked over his shoulder at the guards and said, "Now, don't go thinking about shooting at us. The reaction will be releasing a very volatile gas. One spark from your guns,"- he spat that word out- "could make this whole place go up in a fireball. So don't be thick."
He gestured for Amy, and began walking away.
She followed hesitantly, but tried to emulate his walk. It was a fast stride; fast enough to get them out of there quickly, but slow enough that it suggested casual indifference. It was something her own Doctor could pull off, when he wasn't tripping over his own feet. As it was, Amy barely managed not to do the same herself.
By the time they were on the walk way, she whispered to him; "Would they really blow it up? If they shot at us, I mean?"
"I may have stretched the truth a bit."
Amy grinned. Lying even about lying. Brilliant.
But a few steps later, she hesitated. The place was going to blow up. This Doctor had told her, and even her Doctor had said as much, with large hand gestures and a big "booom-whoosh" sound effect, which had made it sound more like something from a kid's imaginary game than something actually destructive. But now it was real. And Amy was suddenly thinking of those guards back there- trapped, with no way to escape, even once the fire-ball came.
"But- the place is going to blow up, right?"
"Yep." The Doctor was walking faster now.
He didn't care, Amy realised. He didn't care that he'd trapped those people.
Maybe she was being silly, or naïve, or both. She'd been told what the company here had been doing, even seen it with her own eyes. The chemical pumped illegally into the water had a whole host of side-effects. Infertility, dementia, extra-limbs, horrible pain, destruction of the eco-system an agriculture; anyone who would allow these things to be released, anyone who would guard the facilities causing it, didn't deserve to be rescued.
But- it seemed incredibly cruel just to let them die. Who knew why they were working here- maybe they didn't have any other choice. Maybe they didn't know what they were doing. Even if they did, everyone deserved a second chance, right? Amy thought of that one guard, the human girl, not much younger than herself, and stopped.
The Doctor- and Amy was shocked to realise that she'd stopped putting the 'Maybe' in front of his name- didn't even stop.
He didn't care. Maybe she'd been wrong to start trusting this guy, to think he was the Doctor, because her Doctor, the one with a bow-tie and a tweed jacket, would never let this happen. He would always try to save everyone, whether it was an innocent star-whale, or a war-bent Silurian, even if it would be easier just to let the creature die…but this man, he just didn't care.
The man looked back, noticing she'd stopped. He read the expression on her face, and rolled his eyes. "Now, don't be daft."
"You- you think this is being daft?" She clenched her fists.
"C'mon, I'm not going to let them die, alright? I set a timer on the door. It'll open up in about five minutes, plenty of time for them to escape before the gas is concentrated enough to explode. They'll be fine. We won't be, though, if we don't get our hides out of here soon. So stop dwaddling and run."
Amy stared, gobsmacked for a moment, before she went chasing after him.
There feet clanging on the metal grating below, they quickly raced through the maze of railings and equipment, as the noise from the production line rose to a crescendo of wails and grinding. It was clearly failing. Soon a new sound joined, a harsh wail of an alarm, repeating "Warning: Critical Overload". If it was possible, they ran faster. The Doctor said they weren't danger of being blown up, but even so, it wouldn't be long until more guards charged in to take care of the scene.
Finally, they made it to the place they'd entered. The door was locked by a very complex and no-doubt expensive digital lock, which took the Doctor all of four seconds and a wave of the screwdriver to unlock.
They were into the halls, all low-ceilings and blue-ominous lights. They didn't hesitate a moment before plunging in.
They charged through the halls, pumping their legs as fast as possible. Amy had never been so glad for her good sense of direction, and her memorisation of the route; she skirted around corners and led the way, with barely a falter or hesitation. Her muscles were burning, and her lungs felt empty, but she knew that she wasn't far away-
"There!"
It was tucked into a little corner, barely noticeable even accepting the Perception Filter. In the blue light the box blended in perfectly with the walls. They raced towards it, and Amy began fumbling in her pocket for the keys; but the man had already got one out, one which was glowing bright yellow. Over the wail of the alarms he slotted the key into the TARDIS' lock, and the doors swung open, with the two of them tumbling in.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Rose had started off with Jack to search the TARDIS for useful items, accompanied by Embers the cat. They weren't completely sure if (one of) the Doctor's had directed him to do that, or if the feline just figured that when in a strange place its best to stick with people you know, but Rose supposed that either way the mind of the Doctor was hanging around, doing whatever disembodied spirits do, ready to assist them.
Both Martha and Mickey had seemed eager to come into the TARDIS to assist them, but Jack had directed them to take care of their own technology. The pair had agreed, even if it caused a couple of wistful glances back at the police box.
Jack had walked briskly, and Rose had to scamper to keep up with him. Eventually they reached the large closet where most of the Doctor's random electronic components were stored, when they weren't randomly turning up in tea-cups or in the occupants' clothes. To her surprise, however, Jack didn't open it, but instead turned to look at her. His expression was serious, and worried.
"What's wrong?" she asked, startled.
"This isn't good," he said.
That surprised her. Jack was usually so calm, so confident- he took even the most dangerous and life-threatening situations with a suave attitude. He was like the Doctor in that respect, except Jack seemed to interject a lot more flirting and innuendo. "I know that," Rose said. "But don't worry too much, the Doctor- Doctors, whatever, said they know how to fix it."
"Not just that. Well, yes, the mind thing is a bit of a problem- but I mean being in the future. That's not good."
She rolled her eyes and moved for the closet. "Oh, come on, Jack. Stop being a worry wart. We go to the future all the time. You've probably done it more than me."
"Yeah, but I've had training," he pointed out. "Besides, it's not just normal traveling to the future. That's fine, usually. No, it's being in your personal future, Rose. You've got to be careful."
There was a cautious tone in his voice, one so different from the gallant joking way he usually acted. That-that worried her, but she didn't want to show it. "Aren't I always?"
"Barrage balloon."
"Besides that."
"I can name hundreds," he teased. "But seriously, watch out. Traveling along your personal time-line can be dangerous. It's….tempting to find out things, or change stuff to your own advantage."
Rose knew that. She'd had to learn firsthand, and even months later, the image of her father dying remained with her. She was sure that it would stay for her whole life. An experience like that….well, what could Jack's training at the Agency be in comparison? It's incredibly easy to say those types of things, if you hadn't felt tempted yourself.
She almost wanted to say as much, but a look in Jack's eyes told her not too. They looked wise, experienced. Rose realised that he'd probably felt the same temptation as she had, at least once. He didn't speak about his past much, at least not about anything important, but everyone has something they regret, or has lost of a loved one. It would be silly to assume otherwise. So instead of a sharp retort, she sighed. "I know, Jack. I'll be careful. I know havoc that information from the future can cause.
She still remembered Adam. She shuddered to think what the Doctor might do to her if she made a similar mistake.
Jack gave a relieved smile. "Good girl. But it's not just that- you've got to be careful around these people."
"What, this Martha lady? I don't know, she seems pretty fine to me…"
"Yes, her. But Mickey, too."
"Mickey!" Shock filled her voice. "Don't be silly."
"I'm not." And his eyes were grave. "Time can do a lot to a person. We know absolutely nothing about Martha. Mickey isn't the same guy you used to get chips with, Rose. More than a decade has passed for him. You have no idea what might have happened in the meantime."
She didn't want to say it, but honestly, Rose much preferred having to face this Mickey instead of the one she had quarreled with in Cardiff, what must now be just a distant memory for the man outside.
But even barring that, Jack was being silly. People could, and did, change, she knew that. But the way he talked, it made it seem like the Captain expected a knife in the back.
That was Jack's flaw, she thought, even though most the time it seemed that he didn't have one. He was too suspicious. Rose remembered when he'd first come on board the TARDIS. Beneath his charismatic exterior, he had been nervous and on edge. He kept acting like the Doctor was a superior commander, always ready to reprimand him, not just a person you could talk to. Moreover, the way he had acted every time they'd landed was like he expected to be abandoned the moment he turned his back. Maybe that was only to be expected, taking into account his life as a con-man, and the way he'd had his memory stolen. But still. "Whatever you say, Jack."
"I'm being serious. You watch our married couple carefully."
If she'd been drinking something, Rose would have spat it out. "What??"
Jack was wearing a disbelieving expression, but one that wasn't nearly as incredulous as Rose's own. "You haven't realised?"
"That they're married? No!"
But now that she mentioned it…well, they seemed to be living together. Rose hadn't assumed they shared a bed-room, but then what was the point of a king-sized bed? And they'd seemed awfully familiar together. And Martha's last name was Smith-Jones. She blushed. In retrospect, it was painfully obvious.
"But married?" she stuttered.
Jack watched her with amusement. "See what I mean? Time makes a big difference." He grinned at her as he pulled open the doors to the supply room. He began to route through the cavernous 'closet', searching for items he'd read, or occasionally tilting his head as he listened to the Doctor's silent instructions. Rose wasn't much help in searching, but then she hadn't expected to be. She recognised maybe one item as being something the Doctor had gotten her to hold once, but as far as she was concerned, the stuff was all indistinguishable scientific equipment. Jack instead put her to use as a pack-mile, carrying all the items he found. Rose didn't mind, although she made a couple wry comments; her hands might be full, but her brain was free to contemplate the ramifications of the newly revealed information.
It was….weird, and you could only say that with a generous helping of understatement. But as far as Rose was concerned, last she'd seen Mickey they'd had a row over him getting a new girlfriend, and now he was married.
As for being careful around him- well, Rose now knew better than to muck with time. She figured the thing she'd most have to look out for was letting her tongue escape her.
Eventually, in what seemed like no time at all, she was laden with almost more things than she could carry. Wires as wide as snakes were draped over her shoulders, large blocky pieces of metal and plastic were weighing down her arms, and some equipment which looked suspiciously like an over-sized bowler hat was perched on her head, although Jack swore to her that it was a very delicate and sophisticated piece of equipment. Despite the smirk on his face, he seemed serious about it, too. That didn't stop Rose from feeling like she could almost hear a ghostly laugh in her head.
"I'm not going to be able to carry any more," Rose complained, already feeling like her arms were about to fall off. "Could my chivalrous hero lend me a hand?"
"Not when the chivalrous hero is the one who has to do the looking. And besides, isn't chivalry dead to a 21st century gal like you?" She stuck her tongue out at him, and Jack laughed. "How 'bout you go drop your stuff off in the bed-room. If we haven't showed up, you'll probably find us in the library."
"What, so you can load me down with some more stuff? You know how to tempt a girl," she joked, and started down the hallway, barely avoiding backing into the wall behind her and falling. She waddled awkwardly down the corridor, the tower of equipment in her arms wobbling dangerously. Often the TARDIS could be something of a trickster, like how she always seemed to move the washrooms around in the night, but right now she must have taken some sympathy on the human girl, because Rose found her way to the console room surprisingly easily. She'd been afraid of what she'd do when she came to the door, but thankfully Mickey and Martha had left it open.
She dumped everything on the bed, and was about to turn back into the TARDIS when she heard the stomp of familiar footsteps behind her. She turned to see Mickey carting in his own, smaller, pile of stuff. "Wasn't completely sure what would be useful, but the Doctor had the cat give us some help," he explained, dropping his load. "Wonder if Marbles knows what nodding means, or if the Doctor just tells him to move his head up and down, like a puppet."
Rose shrugged, but smiled. Whatever a suspicious Time Agent said, a familiar presence like Mickey was comforting. "Did you get sent to do all the manual labour, too?"
"I wouldn't say that, no." Then he narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. "Are you saying the Captain had you do all the heavy lifting? That's just shameful."
She sniffed. "I know. I got to go back in; they're at the library."
"All the way there?" He shook his head again. "How 'bout we switch places? I take the magical ship, you go help Martha. She's just down in the garage. It's a shorter walk, and I've been fancying a look in the ol' TARDIS again."
Rose's pride told her that she should probably make a feminist comment about chivalry and her not being weaker than the guys, but she could see that Mickey was itching to explore a bit. To be honest, she had a similar feeling; her mate's house of the future would be something interesting to see. "Kay," she said, grinning. "Just go in, go through the corridor on your right, take your third left, keep walking for about two minutes, there should be two doors, but you never kno-"
"Rose." Mickey cut off her instructions. "Don't worry, I'll fine my way."
"Are you sure?" He'd never really been in the TARDIS before, not beyond the console room. He didn't know what it was like.
"Trust me," he assured her, and wandered in. Rose just managed to bite back her questions. She couldn't know too much about her personal future.
It was only once he'd vanished deep into the ship that she realised that he hadn't given her instructions.
It couldn't be too difficult, though; a suburban house had nothing compared to some of the castles, space-ports and bases the Doctor routinely landed her in. She found a kitchen, a washroom, even one little, sparsely decorated bedroom which must be for guests. Rose had supposed that one day it could even be a nursery, but she pushed that idea away quickly. Mickey the father was not something she wanted to contemplate. She was having enough trouble with Mickey the married man.
It was much safer to think about the technology, comparing it to her own time. Everything was pretty similar- you weren't getting holograms, or servant robots, and the kitchen still seemed to have normal looking appliances, but advances were there. She saw a digital picture frame on a shelf that cycled automatically through pictures. Everything else looked much sleeker. A lot of the furniture seemed to be made of plastic or metal, rather than wood. It was a slight difference, but enough of one that it managed to convey the sense that she definitely wasn't in her own time.
She went-down a stair case, an utilitarian looking door suggested the way to the garage. Opening it, she found her guess correct. A slightly cooler temperature bit at her bare arms, obviously lacking the indoor heating of the rest of the house. The place had the slightly dark, grimy look that every garage, no matter where or when their found, seem to acquire by being the holding space of random semi-forgotten objects. On the whole, it seemed a fairly normal looking garage; there was a van, and some boxes, brooms, and other miscellaneous objects. But there was also a wall covered in guns, and many cages lining an entire side. There wasn't anything in them, but Rose felt a cold feeling grow in the put of her stomach.
"Mickey?" said Martha; her body had been half hidden in a cupboard, but at the sound of footsteps she'd pulled herself out. "Oh, hey, Rose. Come to help?"
"Er. Yeah." She didn't move though; instead, her eyes were stuck to the walls of equipment. "What's this all for?"
Martha smiled, her white teeth flashing even in the semi-darkness. "Oh, yes, I can see the Doctor's gotten to you. He got our cat to chew us out when he saw the stuff we had- literally. Don't worry, most of that isn't lethal- tranquilisers and stuff. We don't use most of it, usually."
"And the cages?"
"That's for storage. Not all aliens are of human level intelligence, or are even close to it. Every space ship that crashes has its equivalent of rats on board, and we sometimes have to deal with them."
Feeling less nervous, Rose came to stand next to the older woman, intrigued. "Aliens?"
"Yeah….Mickey and I, well I don't want to say hunt, but we protect the world from aliens. Mostly day-to-day stuff; UNIT works on most of the political side. We're smaller and more discreet. We can track down individuals or small groups; disable them if they're dangerous, give them aid if they need it."
"Oh." The younger girl still felt stiff. She eyed the older woman warily, trying to judge her. A large part of her wanted to criticise for the alien hunting, but that was unfair; Rose knew that her job sounded a great deal like what she did on a daily basis. She also found herself disliking her simply because she was Mickey's wife. That was unfair too, but it was difficult to care about that.
They had a job to do, though. The Doctor needed help, and she couldn't have him stuck just because she was being stupid. So Rose came to sit next to the Martha and help her go through the stuff. It was mostly physical work, such as pulling and heaving, and they were busy enough not to really have a chance to talk. Rose was glad. The awkwardness was heavy enough that it almost seemed to hang in the air. Rose felt painfully aware that she was alone in a room with a woman who would be regarding her as her husband's ex, and didn't much like the feeling.
Martha obviously sensed the tension. "Rose, are you alright?"
"Yeah." Rose choked the words out, and then realised that she would have to offer more than that. "It's just...weird, yeah?"
"Tell me about it," and Rose was somewhat surprised she was being so honest. "Time travel can cause the strangest stuff."
Oh. Right. "Yeah tell me about it." There was an awkward silence, filled only by the rustling of their hands through a box. Eventually, Rose decided that if this was going to go anywhere, something would have to break. "Martha…..how do we get along? I mean, the me who's met you."
There was a slight pause as the woman hefted out a long piece of tubing. She stared quizzically at it and said, "To be honest, I've only ever met you once. We got along pretty okay. There wasn't much chance for talk at the time."
"Oh." Rose helped pull the surprisingly large tubing out into the floor. There didn't seem to be much she could say.
"I've heard tonnes about you, of course."
"Oh, boy." Rose nearly groaned. "Mickey should know better than to natter on about an ex."
"Oh, not Mickey." Martha grinned playfully at her. "The Doctor."
"That's right," she continued, seeing the girl's unbelieving expression, "Wouldn't stop talking about you, half the time. It could get annoying." She said it in a light, casual way, but there was something in the way Martha turned her face, and a tension in her body as she sorted through more alien technology that suggested an understatement. "It was a bit of a surprise when I finally got to meet you in the flesh. You didn't disappoint, if you're wondering."
"Uh…." Rose had stammered. It was also uncomfortable when you were put in the awkward place of a compliment you didn't know how to respond to. "Well, glad."
She wanted to press on for more information, but knew she couldn't. She remembered Jack's earlier warning, and knew that she was on thin ice. A person shouldn't find out too much about their future. And in this case, Rose wasn't sure if she wanted to.
Because a question haunted at her. If Martha had known- or would know- the Doctor, apparently quite well, why had the two humans met only once? Rose did not want to leave the Doctor, and she did not plan to, but Martha's words suggested…
No, she told herself resolutely. She stubbornly pushed those thoughts to the back of the head, and continued working.
That she had done for the rest of the night. She had helped carry the modest load supplied by the Smith-Jones' into their bedroom, and even helped take one smaller one from the medical bay in the TARDIS. Then the entire group had sat down to begin working. Rose didn't begin to understand the science- she guessed that the only ones that did were the two spirits of the Doctor, whispering in the ears of two little cats. But Jack seemed to understand enough, and Martha was confident enough that she seemed to understand a fifth of what the captain said. Even Mickey didn't seemed all that baffled by the theory, and Rose had to remind herself that he had hacked into Britain's weapon system, and that had been over ten years ago for the man standing before her now. In short, the London shop-girl felt completely out of her league, but when traveling on the TARDIS, you got used to that feeling. Thankfully, at a certain level you didn't need to understand what you were doing, but just do it. She was handy with some basic tools, and probably the most proficient with a sonic screwdriver, which they had found lurking underneath the ship's main console. They worked for hours; the room filled with the whir of equipment, the smoke from alien contraptions, and the hot scent of chemicals. There wasn't a lot of talking. Everyone was too focused on their work, and after a while, they were too exhausted to do it anyway. Rose had focused on doing her job, and trying to sort her tangled thoughts out, until she started to burn herself with a soldering iron and switched to just doing the former.
They worked for hours. It was only when pre-dawn light began to leak through the curtains that the two cats leapt onto the now grease stained beds, and yowled proudly. Jack stood up and surveyed their work.
A circle of green-plastic tubing circled the bed, criss-crossed with a fine mesh of a silvery metal, making it appear that a very industrious spider had decided to build a giant web in the room. Wires branched off from it, linking the web to power-outlets on the wall, back-up power from at least six different time periods, and the TARDIS. A whole host of other strange devices that they'd collected over the evening seemed tacked on as after thoughts; Rose even noticed the strange bowler hat-like object from earlier. "It looks good," Jack announced. "Not the most polished work I've ever seen, of course. And it'll be amazing if all the lights in the city don't go out. But the Doctors seem to think it'll work."
Everyone else stared. For all their hard work, it didn't look very robust. But then, if an alien who flew around in a time machine held together by the space equivalent of duct-tape said it was functional, who were they do disagree?
"Okay," said Martha. "Everyone back away. I'll be turning it on in ten, nine…."
They all listened. Mickey held a flashlight, and pointed it at the centre of the room, in case the power went off. The two cats lurked fearfully behind the humans' legs. Rose clutched the sonic screwdriver so hard that it began to bite into her palm. She hoped she didn't die. It would probably cause a massive paradox, knowing the day she was having.
Martha kept counting down.
"Three….two….one…."
She flicked a switch on the ground. There was a grinding sound that seemed to fill the whole world, deafening it. Then there was a boom, and flash, and more than a few yelps, and one that Rose knew definitely didn't belong to anyone who was in the room just moments before. Because a body appeared just feet above the bed, and fell to the mattress with a muffled gasp.
It wasn't the Doctor's, Rose thought. It was far too tweedy for that.
oOoOoOoOoOo