a/n: To those of you still reading, thanks for sticking with this story. And thanks for the follows, favorites and reviews. I really appreciate them. Only one or two more chapters after this and then the epilogue.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jackie leaned back in the overstuffed recliner that the Doctor's new TARDIS had provided. Next to her, in a matching chair, Gwen was talking on the phone with her husband. On the other side of the room, Tony was sleeping on a TARDIS-provided futon with a coverlet patterned with Disney characters tucked around him.
"No, Rhys," Gwen said into her mobile. "I told you, don't come here. Yeah, I'm safe. The Doctor's got a bit of a…" she looked around the cavernous room, "hiding spot behind the house. Love you too."
She rang off and shoved her mobile in her pocket.
"How long do you think all of this is gonna take?" Jackie asked.
"Until they rescue Pete and sort London?" Gwen chuckled. "I don't know. Could take a while." She suddenly grimaced and rubbed her belly.
Jackie looked at her in concern. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Jackie said. "How long have you been havin' those pains?"
"Off and on since we got in here," Gwen answered, her voice sounding strained.
"We've been in here for hours," Jackie pointed out. "And how often have you been havin' them?"
"I'm not in labor, Jackie," she said, and then tried to stifle a groan.
Jackie looked at her soberly. "Yes, you are."
~oOo~
On the way to Downing Street, the Doctor and Pete sat in the back of a big black UNIT SUV with Captain Price in front serving as chauffeur. She had insisted on coming, stating that that was one of the conditions the general had placed on them in exchange for her non-interference. Not only would they be able to get through the myriad of checkpoints more easily with an escort, but if they were caught, she could always say that they were in her custody.
Which they were, she had said.
While Owen and Ianto had moved Collin's body to Autopsy, the Doctor had retrieved the battery that held the Kern. He and Pete had then went to the Archives, where the Doctor had hidden the alien detector. To his surprise, he had recognized the security guard securing the entrance. And not from his previous forays into the Archives.
He recognized the young man from his vision of faces while he was searching through Lisa's memories.
Looking nervous, the guard had nevertheless let them through, and the Doctor hid the fact that he recognized him as they walked through the security entrance.
"He's one of them, Pete," he said softly as they walked into the long aisles of the Archives.
"Are you sure?" At the look the Doctor gave him, Pete nodded grimly. "Of course you're sure."
"Which means your traitor problem in Torchwood is more widespread than we thought," the Doctor told him. "The real question is whether he's been joined as well. I have a feeling the Kern lied to me when they told me how many of them there were."
As the Doctor retrieved his alien detector, Pete rang the security chief who had been in the Dungeon with him. By the time they had made it back to the entrance, the young man had been arrested and was on his way to the Dungeon himself.
"We'll check to see if he's joined later," the Doctor said. "We don't have time now."
Once they had gotten into the car, the Doctor immediately turned away from Pete in favor of staring out the window at the dark and deserted London streets. Brooding, Pete thought, and realized he had never seen the Doctor brood before. He seemed too energetic, too manic, and frankly too happy with Rose to spend time brooding.
But he was definitely brooding now.
After passing through the third checkpoint, Pete broke the oppressive silence.
"What really happened to Frank?" he asked in a low voice.
"Rose was attacked by the Kern, and she protected herself. Let's just leave it at that," the Doctor answered. "It wasn't her fault. This was my fault, all of it."
Pete began to ask what he meant, but at the forbidding look on the Doctor's face he stopped. The look was full of pain and bitterness and guilt and something he couldn't name.
Something that had caused him to be called by his enemies the Oncoming Storm.
~oOo~
Rose woke up to a massive headache. She opened her eyes, only to immediately shut them again. Even the darkness of the room seemed too bright.
She tried to figure out where she was without looking. There was a quiet beeping next to her head. And her right wrist felt funny. She couldn't rotate it, almost as if it was stabilized, and as she had tried to move it, she could feel a pinprick on the back of her hand. And one of her fingers felt pinched. She reached over with her left hand and could feel tape and tubes on her forearm and more tubes entering her nose. An IV then, and oxygen and the beeping must be a heart monitor. So she was in hospital, or at least in the infirmary at Torchwood. She was hoping for Torchwood. She hated hospitals, always had, and the hatred had only gotten worse since New Earth.
Despite the IV, her throat was sore and her mouth was dry. And the repetitive sound of the monitor was making her head pound in the same rhythm.
"Hurts," she whispered, and she heard someone move to her bedside.
"Rose," a feminine voice said. "How are you feeling?" Without looking, Rose realized it was Martha. That meant Torchwood. Thank God.
"Like crap," she answered. It came out as a croak. She finally opened her eyes, and saw the other woman looking at her in concern. "Where's the Doctor?"
"He and Director Tyler have gone to Number 10."
Rose tried to grin, but she could only manage a small smile which turned into a grimace. "They're sorting it without me?" she asked.
Martha smiled at her. "The Doctor said to tell you that you could help take down the next government."
Now Rose actually did smile. "I'm gonna hold him to that." She glanced down at the IV tubes and the heart rate monitor. "Can I sit up? And can we take off all this stuff?"
Martha began to raise the head of the bed. "Before we do that, let me check your vitals first." She glanced at the monitors. Obviously satisfied with what she saw, she unhooked the monitors, removed the oxygen tube and disconnected the IV.
Rose sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She stood up and swayed, and Martha caught her.
"You shouldn't get up if you don't have to," she said.
"But I do have to," Rose told her. "I gotta pee."
"That's partially as a result of the IV. You know there is another solution…" Martha smiled wryly.
Rose stared at her for a second, trying to figure out what the doctor had meant, and then the penny dropped.
"There isn't any way I'm using a bed pan. Besides, I'm fine. Really. Bit of a headache, but that's it."
Martha offered to help her, but she refused. She turned and walked out of the room headed to the loo, each step steadier than the last. Behind her, she could feel Martha's eyes watch her. When she returned, to her surprise Martha wasn't there. She found her sitting at her desk, staring thoughtfully into space.
"Are you alright?" Rose asked, sitting in a chair across from her.
"Isn't that my line?" Martha returned with a tiny laugh. "How are you feeling?"
Rose chuckled. "Much better," she said. Her grin faded as the memories of being held captive with the Doctor began to return. "Frank Collins is dead, isn't he?"
Martha looked at her in surprise. "Yes. But I'm not sure what killed him."
"I did," she responded quietly. "I didn't mean to; he was too close…"
"But it looked like some sort of an energy wave."
Rose nodded. "I didn't know I could do that."
"How…"
"'S complicated, and a very long story, Martha," Rose said. The other woman looked at her soberly. "I'll tell you if you want. We've got the time."
Martha shook her head. "I'm not sure I want to know. It's just one more thing I'd have to keep from Tom." She took a deep breath, and the next part came out in a rush. "I'm not sure I can do this, Rose. I mean I love my job, I love working here, but I can't stand not being able to talk to anyone in my family about it. Not even Tom. Keeping secrets is no way to start a marriage."
Rose sat silently for a moment, thinking of all the secrets she and the Doctor had been keeping from each other. And always had.
"You're right. It's no way to start a marriage." Or any other kind of relationship, she added to herself, resolving to talk to the Doctor when this was all over. "I'll see what I can do to fast track Tom into getting the proper security clearances."
Martha's face brightened. "Thank you so much."
"No problem," she answered. "It's the least I can do."
~oOo~
Pete followed the Doctor through the throng of reporters and photographers staked out in front of Number 10. Captain Price was leading the way, not needing to do more than glare at them before they'd part. Or perhaps it was the uniform and the gun, Pete thought. Either way they were managing to get through.
Before they made it to the door, Pete leaned forward to talk directly into the Doctor's ear.
"I still don't know how you plan to get us in," he said in a low voice.
The Doctor just smirked at him and pulled a slim wallet out of his pocket as they approached the door. A quick flash of the contents at the guard and they were in.
Pete stared at him. "What did you show him?"
"Psychic paper," he replied. "He saw what he expected to see." He glanced at it. "Huh. Evidently I'm… the chancellor of the European Alliance. Or something."
They were escorted through a series of hallways to a ballroom on the far side of the building. Inside, senators, congressmen and other political elites were mingling with dignitaries from all over Europe.
"Tell me if you see Keeling," the Doctor said. "Or the president."
"The president?" Pete asked as he surveyed the room.
"Even if he isn't directly involved, there's no way that Keeling could have gotten as far as he has without the cooperation of the president."
They moved further into the room. Pete noticed them receiving odd looks, undoubtedly because of their attire. Although his own light grey suit stood out against the formal suits, gowns and uniforms worn by the other occupants of the room, that was nothing compared to the Doctor's own leather jacket, jeans and trainers. Add to that his messy hair, unshaven face and the faint remains of the burns he had received earlier, and Pete knew that they were going to shortly receive a great deal of unwanted attention no matter what that blank piece of paper appeared to say.
But as it turned out the Doctor was right. He walked in as if he had every right to be there—or actually more right to be there—than the others in the room, and people began to ignore them.
"I still don't see them," Pete said to him.
"There's the general," Captain Price said, and Pete started. He had forgotten that she was behind them.
The Doctor grinned widely. "Yes, she is," he said and began to make his way across the room.
Pete tried to follow but was blocked by a series of waiters carrying trays of champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. Instead, he watched as the Doctor briefly spoke to the general and then returned, snagging a handful of something off a tray and tossing it into his mouth.
"This way," he said around a mouthful of food as he passed Pete. He jerked his head towards the door. As he left the room he grabbed a glass of champagne. Pete exchanged glances with Captain Price and shrugged.
Overcome with a sense of déjà vu as they walked down the long corridor to the president's office, Pete had to remind himself that it had only been early that same morning when he had met with the president and been arrested by Keeling. Very eventful day, he thought, but undoubtedly more so for the Doctor. As they approached the door, Pete made a note to himself to ask him about everything the others had gone through since his imprisonment after this was all over. Perhaps over glasses of Scotch.
Assuming they weren't in jail, of course.
After another flash of his wallet at two very confused guards, the Doctor drained his champagne glass and handed it to one of them. He then flung open the double doors to the president's office and swept into the room. Pete and Captain Price followed, the latter turning to close and lock the doors behind them.
President Brian Greene was sitting behind his desk, with what looked like a large set of blueprints laying in front of him. Keeling was leaning over his shoulder, pointing something out. They both looked up sharply when the door opened.
"What's the meaning of this?" the president said in outrage. Next to him, Keeling's eyes narrowed. Greene turned towards him. "I thought Pete Tyler was in custody."
Before Keeling could reply, the Doctor began to wander about the room, gaping at his surroundings.
"This isn't the men's toilet," he said, sounding confused. "If it is, it's pretty posh. I mean, I know this is Number 10, but original oil paintings in the loo? Seems a bit ostentatious to me."
He peered at one on the wall. "Huh. Pinkie by Thomas Lawrence. And Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough, isn't it? Personally I'd prefer landscapes in a toilet. Don't like people watching me when I pee, not even if they are in artwork." He pulled a face. "Never know if they're just portraits or something more."
"Who is this man?" the president demanded.
The Doctor turned as if he had just noticed them. "President Greene, isn't it? And Harrison Keeling? I've seen you both on telly. Never thought I'd see you in a loo."
By now used to the Doctor's antics, Pete had to force himself to look serious. Behind him Captain Price unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snicker.
The Doctor walked over to the desk and glanced at the blueprints laying on it. "Huh." He pulled his glasses out of one of his jacket pockets and put them on to examine the plans more closely. "Looks like someone is building some radio telescopes. And big ones, too. If I'm reading this correctly, this one looks like it is over 100 meters across. And that one," he said, pointing to it, "looks like it has broadcast capabilities as well."
A knock on the door startled them all, all except the Doctor.
"Let her in," he said to Price. She turned and let General Bambera into the room, relocking the doors behind her.
"Am I late?" Bambera asked.
"No, General, you're just in time," the Doctor said.
"This is the man I told you about," Keeling said to Greene. "He goes by the name John Smith, but he's really an alien known as the Doctor."
The Doctor got a puzzled look on his face. "Wait a minute. Are you calling me an alien?" He turned back to the president. "Do I look like an alien to you?"
"Looks can be deceiving," Keeling said, "Mr. President, despite what he looks like, he is an alien, and I can prove it. Just have him take a DNA test."
Pete shot a look at the Doctor. To his surprise, he didn't look worried. Instead, he pulled a wallet out of his pocket, one that was different than the one containing the psychic paper.
"That won't be necessary," he said. "I've already taken one. Administered by your government, in fact." He removed a small piece of plastic from the wallet and tossed it to the president, who instinctively caught it. "That's the new ID you are making everyone get. Completely impossible to fake. See that picture on it? That's me, right there. It's not a particularly good picture—well they never are, are they—but you can tell it's me. And my fingerprint is there too, along with the encoded trace of my DNA. Completely human DNA."
"This is made out in the name of Roger Carter," the president said.
The Doctor shrugged. "That's me."
"I thought your name was John Smith."
"All Torchwood agents have aliases they go by," Pete interjected. "John Smith is his, codename 'The Doctor'."
"But who I am is unimportant," the Doctor said. He nodded at Keeling, his grin fading. "Who, or what, he is is."
"Don't listen to him," Keeling said angrily. "He's dangerous."
"Am I?" the Doctor asked in mock surprise. "You know, you're the second person to say that to me today. If one more person says it, it must be true. Three times the charm, and all that."
He plopped himself down in a chair across from the president and swung his trainer-clad feet onto the desk. "You know, the DNA testing, the curfews, the possible labor camps… I understand why he might have wanted all of it," he said, gesturing at Keeling. "But what I don't get is this. Why did you go along with all of it?"
"We're at risk of an alien invasion!" Greene told him. "I am doing what I can to prevent it!"
"Who told you that?" Pete asked. And then he looked at Keeling. His eyes narrowed at the smug look on the other man's face. "Mr. President, you've been listening to rumors. Rumors that I'm guessing have been spread by Keeling and the GBF."
"They aren't rumors," Keeling said coldly. "The invasion's already started. And he's at the center of it. I don't know how he faked that card, but no matter what it says, he's an alien." He turned to the president. "And Pete Tyler's in league with him."
"You know, he's right about a couple of things," the Doctor continued, gesturing at Keeling. "Looks can be deceiving. And we are at risk of an alien invasion. Our friend Harrison here, he's not an alien. Not physically, at any rate. But mentally—he's been taken over by an alien called the Kern. And he's gotten close to you in order to further his plans. Those blueprints in front of you? It's not just a telescope; it's a beacon. And that beacon is designed to attract more of its kind. And all that DNA testing? It was to look for suitable candidates to take over."
"That's ridiculous," Keeling blustered. "Mr. President, don't listen to him."
The Doctor stood up and reached into his pocket only to pull out the battery he had retrieved from Pete's office. He tossed it into the air and neatly caught it in one hand. Then he repeated the motion. The battery went up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Keeling's eyes followed as it rose and fell.
"I bet I know what you're thinking," the Doctor said, directing his comments at Keeling. "You're wondering if this is the battery you had your man leave in Pete Tyler's house during that break-in that you arranged. Or," he paused dramatically, "whether this one is the one that you left with Frank Collins."
"Doctor, as the head of the NIH, Frank was supposed to be here tonight," Pete said.
The Doctor caught the battery and turned to stare at him. "Really? Now that is interesting. Frank was coming here, with the battery no doubt. But why?" His eyes widened and he turned back to Keeling. "You needed more hosts, and what better place to look than among the world's leaders. If you had them with you, you could invade without a single protest."
"What are you talking about?" Greene demanded. No one paid any attention to him.
"But how would they know which of the leaders would be, you know…" Pete asked.
"Suitable for joining?" the Doctor supplied.
Pete nodded.
"Joining increases a Kern's telepathic power," the Doctor told him. "Keeling here could tell who was and who wasn't just by wandering through the ballroom. Then, what, they get invited back here for an exclusive meeting with the president? But they would have gotten more than they bargained for, wouldn't they, Keeling?"
The president looked sharply at his adviser. "You said you were going to invite people to the meeting who would be receptive to joining with us in the observatory, so that it would be an international effort."
Keeling stared at the Doctor, who had begun to toss the battery up and down again.
"I wonder what you'd do to get this back," the Doctor said.
Pete looked at him sharply.
"Would you… give up your post as head of UNIT? Would you… give up your plans for the beacon?"
Mesmerized by the sight of the battery being tossed in the air, Keeling didn't answer.
"Would you… admit you are one of the Kern?"
"Yes," Keeling whispered.
"Sorry, couldn't quite hear that," the Doctor said. "Must have a bit of earwax." He stuck a finger in his left ear as if to clean it out, all the while still tossing the battery up and down without missing a beat. "Can you speak a little louder?"
"Yes," Keeling said.
"Yes what? Yes, you can speak louder? Yes to your resignation? Yes to giving up the beacon?" The Doctor caught the battery and held it between two fingers. "Or yes, that you admit you're one of the Kern?"
"Yes, yes, YES! Yes to all of it!"
Greene, Bambera and Price all stared at him in shock.
"Wait, is he saying he really is an alien?" Greene asked.
"Yes, I am one of the Kern!" he yelled. "Now just give it to me!" He thrust his hand out to the Doctor.
The Doctor grinned smugly. "Here. Catch." And he tossed it to Keeling.
Pete gaped at him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
The Doctor ignored him. His smile faded as he watched Keeling, who was staring at the battery in his hand.
"This isn't the right one. You tricked me."
"No, it is the right one."
"But it's… empty. They're all gone." He looked up at the Doctor, fury written all over his face. "What did you do?"
The Doctor looked at him somberly. "I'm sorry. There was an accident. An energy wave."
"They're all dead?" In shock, he sank down into a chair near the president's desk. "I just wanted to find us a new home."
"I am so, so sorry," the Doctor said quietly. "But you can't have this world."
Pete exchanged glances with the general, who nodded.
"Captain Price," she said, "please take Director Keeling into custody."
Price left her post at the door and cautiously approached Keeling, who was sitting quietly on the chair, the battery clasped tightly in his hand.
"Director, would you come with me please?" she asked.
He nodded absently and stood. She led him towards the door. He stopped when he passed the Doctor.
"Our home, our entire planet is gone. I only wanted a new home for my people. You know that, don't you?"
The captain tugged gently on his arm, and he turned and followed her, stumbling slightly as he left the room.
Bambera began to close the door behind them but stopped when the Doctor cleared his throat.
"General, would you excuse us for just a moment please?" he asked.
Brow furrowed, she again exchanged glances with Pete, who shrugged and looked apologetic. She nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.
"Mr. President," Pete began, "after all that has happened, I believe the country needs new leadership."
"You need to resign," the Doctor said flatly.
Incredulous, Greene stared at them. "You can't be serious."
"You instituted draconian measures to stop an imaginary invasion, all the while aiding the aliens who were planning to invade!" The Doctor's eyes flashed. "You need to go, and you need to go now."
"You can't prove any of this," the president replied. "And I refuse."
"Then I'll just have to make sure you leave," the Doctor said.
"You can't take me down," Greene said.
"Oh, you'd be surprised at what I can do," he said coldly. His mobile beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. When he read the text, he slowly began to grin. "You see, I have a couple of friends who are very good with computers, and if you knew me you'd know that is very high praise indeed. And while we've been here, they've been working on a little project for me. They've been able to produce some documents, photos, even some video clips that would prove that you were working with John Lumic in the production of the Cybermen."
"No one will believe it," Greene said.
"Oh, I think they will," he said. He sat back down across the desk from the president. "Have you ever noticed how powerful the social media has become in this world? You have My Face, Facepage, Linked Together, even one called twist'd…. And then there is one that might be my favorite. It's called flutter. Not sure why they call it that, maybe because the comments flit like butterflies from one person to all his or her followers. You put one comment, or a series of comments, or perhaps a photo or a clip of video on any one of them, and within seconds it can reach hundreds of thousands of people. Within minutes it can be all over the globe.
"But actually, my friends have gone further than that," he continued. "The thing with computer files is that essentially they are date stamped. They're encoded with the date and time they were created. But my friends—did I mention how good they are? They are very, very good, almost up to my standards actually, and they were also able to electronically age the photos and video clips, re-encode the date stamps, so that they appear to have been taken a decade ago.
"Pete," the Doctor continued without looking away from the president, "isn't it against the law to hold an office in government if you were working with Lumic?"
Greene blanched.
"Yes," Pete answered. "Punishable by thirty years in a federal penitentiary without possibility of parole."
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Ooh, thirty years? Someone your age, Mr. President, would be, what, ninety when you were released?"
"Ninety-three," Pete supplied.
"Ninety-three?" The Doctor grimaced. "Of course, that's assuming you survived that long. Or," he said thoughtfully, "you could go away. Far, far away." He exchanged glances with Pete. "I understand Bangladesh is very nice."
The Doctor got out of his chair and headed towards the door, and then stopped and turned back.
"Oh, and one last thing. These files, the documents, the photos, the video, they are hidden all over the world. And they'll stay hidden—as long as you don't ever speak publicly again. No speeches, no interviews, I don't want to hear that you've even given a toast at a wedding reception. One word and I'll make sure they'll be released everywhere."
The Doctor continued to the door and invited General Bambera to re-enter.
"I believe the president has an announcement to make," Pete told her.
She looked curiously at him.
"General Bambera," President Greene said, "it is my intention to resign as President of Great Britain, effective immediately. Please have the vice-president and the chief justice of the Supreme Court join us."
The Doctor couldn't see even a flicker of surprise cross the general's face, and at that moment he resolved to never play poker with her.
Bambera nodded at Greene and walked back to the door. She called to the guards.
"Ask Chief Justice Williams and Vice-President Frobisher to join us, please," she instructed. "And make certain none of the other guests are disturbed."
Minutes later, after witnessing Brian Greene resign and John Frobisher sworn in as president, the Doctor and Pete turned to leave.
"We're still going to have to figure out who else may have been joined," the Doctor said. He stopped in the doorway. "I forgot. We need to get those blueprints."
"I'll get them," Pete volunteered. He retrieved them from the president's desk and followed the Doctor out the door. "You know, Doctor, a proposal like this wouldn't have been made to the president by the head of UNIT alone. It would have had to have been sponsored by the member of Congress where the observatory was going to go."
"Does it say who sponsored it?" the Doctor asked.
Pete stopped and unrolled the blueprints. "It doesn't say, but it does say where it was to be located. Fifteen miles due east of Swansea."
"Oh, I just bet I know who sponsored it," the Doctor said.
"Who?"
"Congresswoman Margaret Blaine. She was opposed to the president's policies and then after one meeting, she changed her mind. What do you bet either Collins or Keeling were at that meeting, too?"
"I saw her in the ballroom when we first got here," Pete said. "She's probably still here." As he looked back down at the blueprints, he didn't notice the Doctor rush back down the hall towards the ballroom. "Kind of a funny name for an observatory. Blaidd Drwg. Wonder what it means."
He looked up and saw that the Doctor was gone. Shrugging, he rolled the blueprints back up, tucked them under his arm and followed the Doctor to the ballroom.