TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING THIS STORY, I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW: FFN HAS BEEN HAVING UPDATE TROUBLE OR SOMETHING. AS YOU MIGHT HAVE NOTICED, NO REVIEWS HAVE GONE UP SINCE CHAPTER 3. I'M NOT REMOVING THEM OR ANYTHING. JUST KNOW THAT I AM RECEIVING YOUR REVIEWS VIA E-MAIL, SO PLEASE CONTINUE TO SEND THEM BECAUSE THEY MEAN A LOT TO ME! AND THANKS.
NOW BACK TO OUR SHOW. I DECIDED NOT TO RE-HASH THE SCENE WERE THE DOCTOR AND MARTHA USE THE TIMEY-WIMEY DETECTOR TO FIND BILLY. LET'S JUST ASSUME IT HAPPENED, AND NOW WE CAN MOVE ON.
THE MEETING
"Four coffees, please," the Doctor called out, entering Irving's All-Nighter. "And maybe some chips. Have you got muffins? I quite fancy a muffin."
The server nodded as the Doctor, Martha and Billy Shipton sat down in the garishly-lit diner upon aquamarine vinyl seats. They were the only customers in, save for an old man in the corner nursing a pot of tea. Billy still looked dazed, his eyes were bloodshot and he was regarding Martha and the Doctor with some suspicion.
"Are we expecting someone else?" he asked Martha, crossing his arms.
"Yes, there's someone we want you to meet," she replied. "Look, there's no need to be suspicious. We're here to help you – fill you in on what's happened to you. And in return, you can help us."
"Why would I do that?" he asked, his accent thickening with his nervousness.
"Because we're sooo nice," the Doctor told him. "Really, how do you feel?"
The server brought the hot coffees, cold chips and the stale muffin, and Billy took a voracious slurp. He made a face.
"Rubbish," Billy said.
"You feel like rubbish, or the coffee's rubbish?" asked Martha. "Because I have to tell you, I really miss Starbucks."
"Both," Billy answered, but then what Martha had said seemed to register. "I thought you said this was 1969."
"It is," she said. "But I was born in 1984. I was studying to be a doctor in 2007."
"And you got touched by the angels?"
"Well, no, I was touched by the Doctor," she said, smiling up at the tall man in pinstripes. "Only figuratively, at first. But then after we'd travelled together for a while, we went home to get a few things and got caught up at Wester Drumlins, and then touched by an angel."
"Wester Drumlins," he mused. "I've been..."
"Investigating it, we know," said the Doctor. "But it seems as though the angels touched you at the police station, yeah?"
"Those statues?"
"Yep, those statues."
"They were surrounding the blue police box after Sally left, and then..."
The Doctor and Martha looked at each other. They both knew that the angels would eventually come into possession of the TARDIS, but it still gave them the chills to hear it.
"Sally Sparrow," the Doctor sighed. "Clever, clever girl. We'd be lost without her."
"How do you know Sally Sparrow?"
"We don't, really. We're just familiar with her work. Which brings me to my mission."
"You said you had a message for Sally," Billy said flatly. "How is that possible?"
"You will see her one more time," the Doctor said. "And only once more. You'll meet her again about thirty minutes after you first met her, in 2007. That's the night when you die."
"The night when I what?"
"Die."
"Is she going to kill me?"
"No, of course not. It's just a coincidence. That will be thirty-eight years from now, of course, and you'll be much older and... well, ill."
"Ill? With what?"
"Don't know. The point is, do you still have her mobile phone number in your pocket?"
Billy checked. "Yeah, it's right here."
"Guard that with your life. Do not lose it. Do you know the date and time of when you were zapped by the angel?"
"I'd knocked off early... I guess it was maybe a little after four o'clock on 14th September."
"All right, then at half-past four on that day in 2007, you'll call her. But not before, do you understand? Not one minute before. It could cause a paradox that would rip a hole in the fabric of space and time."
Billy looked at Martha. "Is he for real?"
"Totally," she answered.
"Seriously," the Doctor said. "Crossing timelines like that could destroy two-thirds of the universe as we know it."
"Who are you?" Billy asked.
The Doctor sighed. "I'm a time traveller. My transport got left behind in 2007 when the angels got us. The message that you're going to bring to Sally will help us get it back."
"You expect me to twiddle my thumbs for the next thirty-eight years waiting to phone Sally Sparrow so you can get your time machine back?"
"Not twiddle your thumbs for thirty-eight years," the Doctor said. "Spend thirty-eight years planting clues. Which is why I'm giving you these."
He pushed three items across the table toward Billy: a film canister, a sheet of paper and a miniature silver disc. "What are these?"
"These are your message. I'm sorry, but you can't continue being a police officer now, Billy."
"What? Now you want me to change careers for you?"
"It's fairly likely that you'll be met with resistance just for being black anyway," Martha said. "Trust me."
"I need you, eventually, to get into DVD publishing," the Doctor explained. "Do you know what a DVD Easter Egg is?"
"Yes."
"Well, I need you to implant this film onto seventeen different DVDs as an Easter Egg. And here's the list of DVDs. Don't stray from that list, and especially don't come up short. We need to cover them all. But they're not all from the same publishers, so you'll need to make some friends in other companies. Don't tell the manufacturers or the distributors, just let it be found on its own. And when you see Sally Sparrow, on 14 September, 2007, you'll tell her, look at the list. She'll have a copy of it by then."
"This is insane," Billy said, touching the film canister and looking at the list. "What's on the film?"
"It's some information that Sally Sparrow needs."
"Can I watch it?"
"You can, but it won't make much sense to you."
Billy was half-offended by this remark, but he said nothing. Then he touched the mini-disc. "What's this?"
"That," the Doctor said. "Contains a digital signal harvested from my time machine, which I prepared before we got stuck here. Once it gets near the circuitry of the machine, they will be able to detect each other, and my machine will come back to me. I'll need you to embed that signal on the DVDs just underneath the audiovisual material."
"I don't know anything about how to do that," Billy protested. "I'm a cop, not an engineer."
"Well, then it's a good thing DVDs won't be invented for another thirty years. Plenty of time to learn the ropes, eh?" the Doctor said.
"I don't get it," Billy said. "How do you know all this? How did you know I'd be here? How do you know that I know Sally Sparrow? How do you know what information she's going to need? How do you know that she will have the list at that particular moment?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, it wouldn't be sporting. Someday it'll all fall into place for Sally, but probably not for you, I'm sorry. You just have to trust me."
The little bell on the front door of the diner went clink. Sally Pfitzinger walked in.
"Hi!" Martha said. "So glad you could make it – sorry to phone you so late. Have a seat."
Sally took a seat next to Billy and looked at him with a mixture of question and utter enchantment.
"Sally Pfitzinger, this is Billy Shipton," Martha said. "We especially wanted the two of you to meet."
"Why?" asked Sally, smiling.
"We thought you could both use a friend," the Doctor said, winking.
After a long chat, two baskets of chips and enough coffee to float an aircraft carrier, the four of them left the diner. By then, it was nearly five in the morning. Sally had announced that thanks to the Doctor and Martha, she had decided to make amends with her father and offer to work for him doing field research on home video production. She wanted to get some sleep before seeing him at ten a.m., so after giving Billy her phone number, she left them. The Doctor offered to walk her to the Underground, and she accepted.
Martha and Billy stood outside the diner waiting for the Doctor to return.
"So what is the deal with you and him?" he asked.
"What do you mean? Yes, we are a couple, if that's what you wanted to know."
"Well, there's that, but... he says he's a time traveller. And you travel with him?
"Yes. We visit different planets and different time periods, almost always meet with danger. It's brilliant."
"You risk your life," he said. It wasn't a question.
"It's worth it," she assured him.
"It's worth it, just to be with him?"
She smiled. "Yes. Just to be with him."
"You would die for him?"
"And he for me. That's who he is – he's noble and inspiring. That's just the Doctor."
Billy was silent for a minute, staring down the street. Martha wondered if he was taking in the different appearance of London, without the Starbucks and cash machines on every corner. Finally, he said, "Not to me."
"Not to you what?"
"He is not inspiring to me," Billy said. "He just walked into my life a couple of hours ago, and he wants me to devote the rest of my life to helping him. I don't know why I should do that, frankly. What if he's a total crackpot?"
Martha sighed. "Billy look at me." He did. "Do I look like a crackpot?"
"No, you don't."
"Do you trust that I'm from the same time and place as you?"
"You seem to be."
"Do you like me?"
"You seem all right."
"Then listen," she said, her voice breaking, tears beginning to fall. "Even if you don't like the Doctor, there's still me. If he and I do not get our time machine back, then I will never see my family again. I'll never get to have another drink with my sister, I won't hug my brother or my little niece ever again. I won't ever have a family dinner again, I won't see my mum or dad, I won't..." she couldn't go on. She placed her fingers over her nose with embarrassment and tried to stop the tears from coming any further.
Billy watched her with concern. "I hear you," he said. "I'm sad for you. But I won't have any of that ever again either," he pointed out.
"I know," she said, sniffling. "And I'm sorry."
He contemplated. "Could you take me back to 2007 when you get your time machine back? I'll give Sally the message then."
"We can't get it back unless you live out the next thirty-eight years to plant the Easter Egg," Martha insisted. "It's all cause and effect. Time travel is strange that way. It would probably cause a paradox or something. Billy, you may not trust the Doctor, but I do. I love him, and I trust him with my life. And I know that the universe is a better place with him in it – we need him mobile, Billy, to be able to go where he's needed... God, I wish I could make you understand. Do you know how many times he's saved your life?"
"Is he even human?" Billy asked.
The question surprised Martha, but she answered truthfully. "No, he's not."
"He's an alien?"
"Yes, he is."
He smiled impishly. "And you sleep with him?"
She chuckled. "Yes, I do."
"Are all the bits and bobs in the same places?"
"Far as I can tell."
He was silent again for a long while. He took the film reel from his pocket and stared at it, then put it back again. He looked at the DVD list, then put it back again. "All right. But I'll only do it so that you can get back to your family, Martha. I don't care about any paradoxes or what-have-you. I'll do it for you."
"Thank you, Billy. You are a very good man."
The Doctor came around the corner then, as if on cue.
"So, Doctor," Billy said loudly. "You still haven't explained what happened to me."
"Let's take a little walk," the Doctor suggested.
Within twenty minutes, they found themselves standing outside the garden of Wester Drumlins in the early morning light. "Why have you brought me here?" Billy asked.
"Tell me about your investigation, Billy."
"Okay. About two years ago – well, in 2005 – someone reported their loved one missing. Said he'd gone to Wester Drumlins house to do some artwork and never came home. Routine missing person investigation, we went to the house, found the man's car, and three others as well, all with the owners reported missing. Other reports came in slowly from the same place over the next year – it's a popular place for artists – until we had a total of ten cars and that police box. That's when we decided to launch a full-scale investigation into the house itself. We've sent in teams, but no-one has ever found anything unusual about it, other than it being in total disrepair."
"Well, investigate no more, Billy," said the Doctor. "Meet the Weeping Angels. Again." He parted some of the foliage and invited Billy to look through the bars.
"Those are the statues I saw."
"As I told you, they zap you back into the past and feed on all the days you never had. But they can only move when no one is looking, but if you turn your back or look away, they come for you."
"All I did was blink," Billy said, pulling himself away from the bars.
"That's all it takes," the Doctor said. "They move at incredible speeds when they want to."
"Where are they from?" asked Billy.
"Good question," said the Doctor in a high-pitch. "No one knows, really. They're old old old, and their presence spans the universe, but no one knows where they originated."
"What's that noise?" Martha asked, standing on tiptoe, trying to see past the trees.
"I heard a crash," the Doctor said, looking toward the house. And then, they all heard the panicked screams of children. The three of them rushed to the gate and flew toward the mansion. "You go that way, I'll try to keep the angels away!" the Doctor instructed.
"Be careful, Doctor!" Martha cried out.
"It's okay, I've got the sonic!"
Martha and Billy went through the front door of the house and followed the screams. When they reached what was left of the kitchen, they saw a pair of very small brown legs dangling from the ceiling. The little girl was hanging from a rotting beam while three of her friends kneeled up above and looked down, screaming through the hole she'd made as she fell. They were the same four girls Martha had seen skulking about the house last week.
Billy rushed forward and grabbed the girl's legs. "It's okay, I've got you, I've got you!"
"No! Don't touch me!" the girl screamed, kicking him away.
Her friends above continued to yell various, unintelligble things.
"Let me!" Martha said, shoving Billy aside. She followed suit and grabbed the girl's legs as he had, except this time, the girl calmed, and let go of the beam. She slid down into Martha's arms. "Hello," Martha said, setting her down.
"Er, thanks," the little girl said shyly.
"My name is Martha, what's yours?"
"Letitia," the girl told her.
"Ah!" Martha exclaimed. "That's my sister's name!"
The loud thuds of feet plodding down the stairs reached their ears. The three other girls came crashing into the kitchen, knocking Billy off balance, amid gasps of "OhmygodTishareyouokay?" The older girls crowded around her stiflingly, shining a torch light into her eyes and making her recoil a bit.
"Okay, okay! Leave her alone, give her some air!" Martha insisted. "Step back, please, I'm a doctor. Let me make sure she's not hurt."
She lifted the little girl up onto the kitchen counter. She asked one of the other girls to borrow a torch, and examined the few cuts and bruises little Letitia had sustained as she'd come through the floor. Her hands were full of splinters and she was bleeding mildly in a few places, but she didn't have concussion and she didn't seem to be in shock. Martha was satisfied.
She turned to the tall girl who had so captivated her before. "Are you her sister?"
"Yes," the tall girl answered. There was still something about her.
"Take her home. Tell your mum and dad that they need to soak her hands in a couple quarts of warm water and a tablespoon of rubbing alcohol for at least an hour. Most of the splinters should come out in the soak, and the rest will be easily removed with tweezers. She probably won't even feel it."
"Er, can't you just fix her?" asked the blonde girl.
"No, I can't," Martha said. "I don't have any supplies. She'll be fine if you can just take her home and soak her hands. And clean up those cuts."
"But.." the oldest girl protested.
Martha put one hand on her hip. "Let me guess. If you take her home looking like this, your parents will ask what's happened, and you're not supposed to be here."
The girls didn't answer, but their silence spoke volumes.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Martha asked.
The tall girl sighed. "I like old things, okay?"
"So go to an antiques shop! You're much less likely to have someone fall through the floor there!"
"But that's not authentic," the girl protested.
The redhead rolled her eyes. "She says that her collection has to be genuine, scavenged and earned. She comes here every day to steal something for her shelf."
"Shut up!" the tall girl told her friend, slapping her hand a bit.
Martha looked at the redhead. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Alice," she answered.
"Alice what?"
"Alice McCluskey."
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen."
"What about you?" Martha asked the blonde.
"Me? I'm Bonnie McCluskey. I'm twelve."
Martha looked meaningfully at the highly mysterious black girl, standing taller than she. "What?" the girl asked.
"Have you got a name?"
"Frannie."
"Just Frannie? Like... just Cher?"
"No, it's Frannie Obeng."
Martha's mouth went dry and something caught in her throat when she heard the name.
