"The Mistaken M. Jones"
21. Forgotten
Earth, in the year 4524
As if her hair hadn't looked bad enough before, it had now been stuck under a canary yellow wig fixed into a bun. The color had not been her first choice, but Annabel insisted it would help get her through the door easier, so they'd gone and searched in the depths of the TARDIS, swapping out the Victorian gear for something less conspicuous.
Annabel had given her one more tip, and that was the vital one. The people of the city had been conditioned not to question too much of what was happening with the asteroid. Already that she was going to ask to have visitation with Merit Reeslin would get people's attention, so she had to adjust her behavior so not to make them look at her too close. Clara had some thoughts on that.
Her heels clicked to announce her arrival in the detention facility. A pair of men stopped her, asked what she wanted.
"I wish to speak with Merit Reeslin," she declared, firmly but without meeting their eyes.
"He is in isolated…"
"It's because of the likes of him my mother won't leave the house. She's terrified of your… random searches. She's old, she has a bad hip, she…" They braced up, and she frowned, reasserting herself. "I want to speak to that man." She paused. "Please."
It was near to an hour before anything progressed. Clara had been made to wait, sitting between a tall, bulky man with apple red hair, and a shrivelled up old woman with a short bubble gum pink do. Clara was suddenly much less self-conscious about her own canary bun. Now all she had left to do was hold on and wait for them to let her in… hopefully.
When they called her name – the one she'd given at least – she sprang up so suddenly she was afraid she might have incurred their suspicion, and she did her best to reassume her demure persona.
She had another near break in character when they told her she'd get ten minutes with Merit Reeslin. She was guided to a small room with a table and a couple of chairs. She took a seat, cautiously observing the walls, wondering which one of them had a hidden camera. For all she knew, they were everywhere, and there were people back there, who would watch them and listen to their every word. It was a good thing then that they hadn't searched her before letting her through.
Merit Reeslin's hair in three shades of violet now looked more like three shades of discolored blond, though it had kept growing over the last five years. He was thinner than he used to be, but he didn't look malnourished or mistreated. He sat across from Clara, staring at her.
"I hear you had some things to say," he spoke flatly. Clara's hand slipped over her ear, pushing in the earpiece and activating it.
"I'm a friend of the Doctor's," she still kept her voice low, even though she knew, if all was as it should be, anyone outside of the room would only hear gibberish.
"The Doctor," Merit relaxed into his chair for a moment before leaning back in. "I lost count… Has it been five years?"
"Yes," Clara replied, remembering what the Doctor had told her. "Five years," she confirmed, and in saying it, she thought about what it must have been like for him. She could hardly put it into words. "We'll get you out of here, Merit."
"How do you expect to do that? I told the Doctor, I won't run. And if I leave this place, then I have to leave the city."
"But doesn't staying in the city mean spending the rest of your life here?" Clara pointed out. "You've done nothing wrong."
"It doesn't really matter, not anymore, but I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."
"You promised… to stay in the city?" she guessed. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. "Who did you promise? Your family? Your parents, or a brother or sister? Are you married, or…"
"Please, don't get yourself in trouble on my count," Merit shook his head. "Get out of here, and tell the Doctor thank you for what he's tried to do before, but… this is how it has to be."
The words were barely out of his mouth that the visitation room was filled with the familiar sound of the landing TARDIS. Both Clara and Merit stood back from the table.
"Are there cameras here, can they see us?" Clara quickly asked.
"Of course they can. I'm surprised they haven't come in already, with what we've been…"
"I have a thing, they can't hear what we're really saying," she explained. "I don't think it covers spaceships," she breathed, as the TARDIS had finished materializing. The door popped open.
"What's taking so long?" the Doctor gave Clara a pointed look before turning a smile to Merit. "Hello! Remember me? Well, I can't imagine this helps," he traced a circle around his face. "But this ought to do," he followed through to indicate the police box.
"He… He doesn't want to go," Clara told him, eyes darting between the walls and the door. There was a click overhead, and a voice came through unseen speakers.
"Would you go already? I can only keep them out of there for so long," said the unseen woman. The Doctor stared up, chuckling.
"Shimmer girl!"
"Don't call me that, please?"
"You won't tell me your name," he reminded her.
"All in time, Doctor."
"Had time to change faces twice…" he frowned to himself.
"TARDIS, go, now!"
"Right, thank you!" the Doctor went up to Merit. "Listen, we are going to the asteroid. We are going to deal with this. Are you coming or not?" Merit absently touched his head, then nodded. "Excellent!" he smiled before returning to a frown. "Inside, now. Both of you."
TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)