Chapter 14

The Doctor bounded down the stairs into the cellar, plainly anxious to see what fascinating information was gathered during the night. What he found, however, looked more like the result of a child throwing a temper tantrum using a Japanese samurai sword and five gallons of blue hair gel.

"Well, this is unexpected," he commented, looking around the place before carefully making his way through the slimy muck to the first recording device. He grimaced strongly at the sight that he saw. "My video recorder," he bemoaned, astonished by the damage that had been done to it. The device resembled little more than a piece of jagged metal. "My favorite video recorder. I loved that recorder. It survived the 1906 San Francisco earthquake." He fingered it slightly, again grimacing at the slime that seemed to attach itself to his hand. The tingling sensation that he had experienced the last time he had made contact with the slime returned with a vengeance, causing his hand to feel as if it had just gone to sleep. Shaking the slime off, he wiggled his fingers, hoping that the act would cause the tingle to disappear. No such luck.

Reaching into his jacket pocket with his unaffected hand, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his other hand roughly. "Bit stronger than the last time," he grumbled, noting that wiping his hand helped a little. He was sure whatever toxins were left from his ill-advised act of touching the slime would be taken care of by his unique immune system. But that didn't mean that he didn't need to take better precautions this time.

Digging into his jacket pocket again, he pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves and slipped them on. He proceeded to examine the remains of the recorder not only for the data module he needed but also for evidence to identify what had totaled his valuable equipment. Finding the module, he expertly tossed it towards the stairs, causing it to land just at the foot of them. Using the same diligence as before, he examined all the equipment only to find all had been either damaged beyond repair or to the point of needing hours of attention. And out of all of the data storage modules, only two survived whatever had caused their downfalls.

"Powerful and angry," the Doctor muttered, looking about at the carnage.

Having sent Rose to the University library, Harry headed down the stairs to the cellar. He heard the Doctor muttering and moved a little quicker, not wanting to miss what he was saying.

The Doctor turned slightly to see that Harry had reached the bottom of the stairs. "I wouldn't go any further. Don't forget this blue ooze. I still don't want to have to carry you up the stairs."

Looking at the mess that literally covered his cellar, the innkeeper groused, "This is by far the worse. It looks like the creature was upset about the cameras and other equipment."

"Now who would be upset about a few little cameras to the point of quite literally turning them into junk?" the Doctor complained. "Do you realize how extremely difficult it is to get equipment like this? Now it's all rubbish."

Harry shook his head. "It was a good idea your companion had to use the cameras. It's a bloody shame the set up was for naught."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." The Time Lord pointed to the two data modules near his friend's feet. "Data modules from the recording equipment. Hopefully the information hasn't been too corrupted from the abuse that they received from... whatever this is." He looked around the room again. "Right now, I'm getting a serious case of deja vu."

"Deja vu? You've seen something like this before?"

"I don't know. The claw marks are familiar. Toxic blue slime... Something in the back of my head, taunting me... haunting me," he corrected somberly. Taking a breath, he looked about. "Well... I think we've gained as much information as we can from the cellar to find out who our visitor is." He started for the stairs.

Sighing, the human looked around once more. "It doesn't look like I'll be able to convert this room to a wine cellar anytime soon."

"Oh, don't give up!" the Doctor berated him. "Where's your Dunkirk spirit, eh?" He turned to look at the mess that was there. "So, a little elbow grease will be necessary."

"More like a lot of elbow grease. I'll have to get a hazmat suit just to enter the room if that slime is as dangerous to humans as you say."

The Time Lord grimaced slightly. "I see your point." He gave him a wide grin. "Tell you what! Let me slip on a pair of overalls and we can tackle this together. We'll need... let's see... several plastic bags, a bin, a shovel, and some soapy water, preferably lye soap."

"I'll get that now," answered the former companion. He headed back upstairs to obtain the soapy water and to ask Sally to help him round up the other things before going to change clothes. Coming back down the stairs, Harry wasn't surprised to see the Doctor had already slipped on the overalls he'd suggested and had started.

"Make certain you don't get any of this stuff on your skin," the Doctor told him. "I don't think a little bit of it will actually kill you but let's not take the chance, shall we?" He accepted a bag from Harry, opened it and fitted it into the trashcan. He then proceeded to dump all the irreparable equipment into it.

Doing their best to clean up the mess, they avoided touching the slime as the Doctor had indicated or washing it off their skin immediately when bits did attach to them. It was likely their precautions that prevented too much damage to their skin as those areas the slime did touch showed signs of irritation afterwards. Once the cellar was cleared of all the slime and debris, the Doctor insisted that Harry undress to his skivvies so that he could take a good look at him, making sure that the former companion was relatively unharmed from the clean up. The latter did, however, seem a little unsteady on his feet.

"A little rest and a lot of liquids and you should be fine," the Doctor assured him. "Just to be sure, though, I'm going to give you something to help that nausea I'm sure you're starting to feel. Stay here." He took off his coveralls and gloves and put on his jacket before hurrying to the TARDIS. Returning with a needle in hand, he gave him the injection and checked him once more before nodding. "Already seem better. You're probably starving, though."

When the Doctor had left him, Harry had moved to the separate laundry room where he put on clean clothes. After he had received the fast acting nausea medication, he rubbed his midsection. Although he was still feeling a little queasy, it was quickly fading. "Yes. I could do with some lunch. I believe Sally was fixing something for us."

"Brilliant," the Doctor commented with a smile. The expression faded a moment later when he found himself wavering slightly. He reached for the nearest object - a wash basin - in an attempt to steady himself.

"Doctor?" the innkeeper questioned before noticing the Time Lord's hand, which was blistering badly. "Bloody hell. I've never seen that happen to you before!"

The Gallifreyan looked at the offending appendage with shock. "Neither have I," he commented, concern tainting his words.

Examining the hand, the medical doctor offered, "Looks like a chemical burn. You need to wash off whatever is still there." He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit. "Never thought I'd be providing first aid to a Time Lord... again."

"I wiped it off. It shouldn't be affecting me," the Doctor said, seeming not to have heard Harry's words. "It's just a standard paralyzing toxin. My immune system should be taking care of this."

"Ah. Chemical's can be tricky. It's not as bad as it could be. I've seen hydrofluoric acid burns that were much worse."

Turning on the faucet of the sink he was still hanging onto, the Doctor put his hand under the flowing water, not commenting on his friend's assessment. After carefully washing the burn, he dabbed it dry. Seeing the other with the first aid kit in hand, he winced. "I don't need bandages," he protested.

"Of course, you do. I have some salve here that's just the thing for such a burn and the bandage will keep it clean."

The Time Lord got a peculiar look on his face. "No, I really, really don't need bandages," he insisted.

"Well, at least that hasn't changed."

Blinking for a moment, the Gallifreyan finally queried, "What hasn't changed?"

"You. You never were good at letting anyone help you."

The alien hesitated for a moment and then sighed. "You're going to insist, aren't you."

"You would if the situation were reversed."

"Good point." He hummed and hawed slightly and then groaned. "Oh, all right. You win. Salve away."

The curly haired human gently addressed the wounded hand expertly bandaging it. A few minutes later, he put on the final piece of tape. "Now, don't pick at it."

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" the Doctor complained as Harry tended to the burn. When the latter was at last done, he gave him a slight glare. "I don't pick."

"Of course, you don't," his friend threw back with a hint of sarcasm. He put the first aid kit back. "Now, we better get upstairs or Sally will wonder what's keeping us."

The Time Lord didn't bother to comment but rather followed the man up the stairs and into the kitchen. He grinned at the scent that hit him. "Aw, lovely! Smells marvelous!"

Sally turned to give him a smile but hesitated when she noticed the bandage on his hand. "What happened?" she questioned with concern.

The former companion answered before the Doctor could say anything. "Oh, he thinks he's invincible. A bit of reality check." He saw that Sally was completing the transfer of vegetable soup into a tureen. "Can I help you, dear?"

"You could take the bread and butter into the dining room," Sally gently requested.

The attentive spouse picked up the bread and butter just as the Doctor tucked the two data modules they were able to recover into his pocket.

Seeing the tureen, the Time Lord's grin grew exponentially. "Soup! I love soup!"

Sally laughed. "I have a bowl of salad there as well. Thought you might like more greenery," she said to their Gallifreyan guest. Tilting her head over to it, she asked, "Would you be kind enough to take it to the table?"

"My pleasure," he assured her. Picking up the salad, he strode into the dining room and set it in the center of the table.

Once everything was ready, they took their seats. As the men looked longingly at the tureen, Sally ordered, "Don't stand on ceremony. Dig in."

The Doctor proceeded to ladle soup into his bowl. As he picked up his spoon, he frowned. "This is exactly why I don't like bandages. Makes holding things awkward." He switched the spoon to the other hand and soon was voracious in his eating, finishing his portion far ahead of his hosts. With time now on his hands, he reached again into his pocket and pulled out one of the data modules, examining it as if he could find out what was on it using only telepathy.

Sally noticed the Doctor's enjoyment of the meal. "You liked the soup then, Doctor. It was my mother's recipe."

"It was delicious," the Doctor replied, sounding as if he were making an automatic response. His eyes were focused on the object in his hand.

Harry looked at Sally. "You know it's one of my favorites."

"What's in it?" the Time Lord murmured, looking at the module.

Sally started to recite the various ingredients she had used. "Oh there's carrots, celery, potatoes..."

"What?" asked the alien, looking up with a confused visage.

"I don't think that he was talking about the soup, dear." Harry looked to the Doctor. "Do you have a way to read it?"

The Gallifreyan blinked, just then realizing what the conversation was about. "Oh! Oh, yes, yes. Of course." He looked at Sally and pointed to the soup tureen. "Your mother's recipe, you said? If that was any indication, you inherited much from your mother."

Sally smiled. "Thank you. It's been a family favorite for years."

The Doctor grinned. "Now then..." He stood abruptly, not noticing that his hosts weren't even finished with their meal. He looked between them for a moment. "You coming, Sullivan?"

"Well, Doctor, I was hoping to finish my lunch first, unless it's pressing for us to do whatever it is you need now."

The alien frowned once more. "Am I being rude again?"

Sally licked her lips. "Well, more a bit oblivious but I'm sure it's only because you're so focused on getting to the bottom of this mystery."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," he replied, sitting again and tucking the module into his pocket, watching them eat.

"Do you want anything else? Perhaps a piece of fruit for dessert?"

"No, I'm good," the Doctor replied to Sally's offer. Looking at the two of them, he suddenly realized that his watching them was making them a bit uncomfortable. "You know, I think I'll just go to the TARDIS and start my analyses." Standing, he looked to Harry. "Meet you there after you're done?"

"Sure, Doctor. I'll be there soon."

The Gallifreyan just nodded before hurrying out of the dining room. Going through the TARDIS, he found the lab he was looking for and put the first data module into the reader. The data, however, was corrupted beyond repair, causing him to sigh slightly with despair. If the second one was this bad, the only way they'd be able to find out what was down there would be to wait in the cellar for something to happen.

He was just starting to read the second module, thankfully completely intact when he heard Harry's voice calling for him. "Two doors down on your right!" he shouted back and waited for the man to arrive. "Just started going through this one. The other is rubbish."

"Well, at least that one looks fairly decent."

"A bit grainy," the Doctor commented. "Searching for our little friend..." He straightened as the picture seemed to brighten, as if there were some kind of energy surge. "Hold on. What's this?"

The screen showed a large creature looking out of focus along one wall. As the film progressed, the focus increased until it was clear that a large creature had suddenly appeared in the room. A low growling hissing sound seemed to echo through the cellar as the creature came into clearer view of the recorder. It was massive with a body that was at least eight feet tall with a long neck and muscular arms and legs. There appeared to be thick short wings on its back, almost like those of demons as they were depicted in Renaissance paintings, except that they had an almost bat-like quality to them. A long reptilian head looked at the camera with a hint of interest before a loud whining sound filled the room, causing the intruder to turn to look behind.

The screech that came from it sent a chill through the Doctor and Harry, causing the two to stiffen physically. A moment later, the screen was filled with images of complete chaos as equipment was smashed with arms, legs, and a very long scaly appendage that the Doctor instantly knew was a tail. The screen brightened again as the creature struggled to get away from the bright light behind him, clawing violently at the floor, walls, and ceiling. An almost piteous cry filled the room before it was suddenly silent but completely changed, covered from floor to ceiling with damaged goods and blue slime.

"Impossible," the Time Lord whispered, staring at the screen.

Harry, his eyes wide at seeing the size and ferocity of the beast, asked in a shaky voice, "What's impossible, Doctor?"

The look on the Doctor's face grew dark. "That... thing!" he replied with growing anger. "He can't be alive. Can't."

Watching the Doctor, his former companion recalled the times in the past when he saw the man's ire rise. It was never a pleasant experience. Still, he wanted to know what was going on. "Who is he?"

The Doctor looked at Harry with a sense of deep-seated dread. "Death," he answered cryptically.