"Progress?" asked the Doctor, twisting away from his workbench. "Anything at all?"
"Some," Simmons muttered. "But we can't be sure if anything will be effective without properly testing it in the correct conditions."
"We don't really have the time for that," the Doctor grumbled.
"Bit of a long shot…" began Anita, pushing her protective goggles over her forehead, "If it comes to it, could we use these creatures' venom against them?"
"Mostly likely not," answered the Doctor. "Most creatures tend to be immune to their own venom, for obvious reasons. But not a bad suggestion. I just hope it doesn't come to that sort of military thinking."
Anita nodded, the dimples in her cheek accentuating her dismay.
"Doctor?" Professor Lakowsky's voice burst through the intercom.
"Professor!" the Doctor responded brightly.
"I thought it would be best to keep you notified. We're experiencing more power failures, this time in sectors three and six."
"I'll be right up," the Doctor promised.
"How's Charlie?" he asked, as an afterthought. "Feeling better?"
There was silence for a moment.
The Doctor frowned, glaring at the speaker panel on the wall.
"I thought he was with you…" Lakowsky muttered.
Simmons and Anita immediately stopped what they were working on. The Doctor's face told them everything. He was furious.
"What?" the Doctor snapped. "You let a seventeen year old wander about on a military base that's probably under attack? Are you all idiots?"
Lakowsky mumbled something, and switched off the intercom.
The Doctor turned to Simmons for help. "Where would he have gone?"
Simmons hurriedly made a suggestion. "Personnel lounge? There's one near the command centre."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Somewhere quieter?"
Simmons shook her head, unsure.
"The VR deck?" Anita offered.
"VR deck?" the Doctor questioned. "…No. Don't you have a library, or anything?"
"No, sadly," Anita acknowledged.
Simmons snapped her fingers. "Observation deck."
"Observation deck!" the Doctor concurred, rising from his stool.
"No one ever goes in there," Anita added.
"Perfect."
The Doctor raced towards the door.
"You two keep going. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Simmons chewed her lip, and shot an anxious glance at Anita.
Lazarov yawned, and stretched, tossing his cap onto the bunk above his.
He lay down on his own bed, deciding to take twenty minutes to nap, before maybe going to get something to eat from the canteen.
He stared up at the squeaking metal rungs supporting the mattress above him, and sighed.
No, he was kidding himself if he thought he'd be able to get to sleep now.
He knew that joining the military would be dangerous, but he'd never expected this. He'd been quickly assigned to UNIT, an organisation he'd never heard of until his papers came through.
He'd never expected a transfer to the moon. He'd never expected aliens, and he'd never expected to actually encounter the legendary Doctor himself.
And the worst part was that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone outside of UNIT what he did. Not even his younger brother, Francisco, who always eagerly awaited stories of his tours of duty 'abroad'.
He wondered how long it would be before he would get the chance to go home on leave. Just a couple of months, hopefully.
He heard a scratching noise at the foot of his bunk – like metal grinding against metal.
He sat up, glancing around. There was no-one else in the room with him. The other men with whom he shared sleeping quarters were still on duty. But he wouldn't put it past one of them to be messing with him.
Still, there was no harm in being cautious, so he pulled a knife out of his combats. He'd seen enough training videos to know that hearing a noise in the dark when you're alone in a room probably isn't one of your mates pulling a prank.
"Hello?" he called anyway, "Is someone there?"
He heard a scuttling, like a cluster of mice darting across the flooring. The sound disappeared – beneath his bunk. He was sure of it.
He leaned over, the blood rushing to his ears, and peered into the darkness beneath the bed. He couldn't make anything out, but it felt like there was something there. A presence, watching him.
Lazarov reached underneath, brandishing the blade, but came into contact with nothing but thin air.
He was about to pull himself back onto the bed when he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
He froze, in shock. Something was pushing his neck, restraining him against his duvet.
Slowly, the thing withdrew the pressure on his body, peeling away like velcro.
Lazarov turned slowly around, facing the creature, and yelped in surprise when it lunged at him.
Charlie massaged his temples, as he felt a sense of balance return to his head.
The room stopped spinning, and he finally gathered the strength to stand.
The door hissed open, and Charlie whirled round in alarm.
It was the Doctor. He looked rather harassed – wide eyed and frowny-faced. Eyebrows working overtime.
"Charlie. There you are. You weren't in the command centre." His tone was terse, but he didn't seem angry.
Charlie shook his head.
"Yeah, sorry. I just needed some space," he stammered groggily.
The Doctor nodded, glancing around the Observation Deck, before ambling over to stare out of the windows with him. "Well, you can see plenty of it from here."
Charlie nodded, the centre of his chest leaden.
He wondered why the Doctor was taking the time to stand next to him, staring up at the Earth.
"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked after a while.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Charlie managed. He caught his reflection in the glass. There were large blotches of red trailing beneath his eyes, which threatened to reveal otherwise. The sight of it filled him with disgust, and he avoided his own gaze.
Charlie rubbed his eyes, pretending he was just tired.
The Doctor regarded him for a moment, his eyes narrowing.
He was suspicious. The Doctor didn't believe him. The Doctor didn't trust him.
"You're feeling better? You're not still… upset?" the Doctor probed.
Upset. He hated the word upset.
"No. I wasn't upset," Charlie replied quickly, trying to suppress the bitterness he felt surging through him.
"Uh…" the Doctor warily approached the region of a sensitive conversation. It wasn't one of his specialties. "It's a perfectly normal human reaction when you see a body like that. Frankly, I'd be concerned if you weren't upset."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess," Charlie muttered. He'd forgotten about that.
"I never mean for you to see those things," the Doctor spoke a little remorsefully.
"It's not your fault," Charlie said quietly.
The Doctor didn't even acknowledge him. He just stared at Charlie's shoulder. The Doctor's brow twinged.
It took Charlie a second to realise that the Doctor was looking past him, not at him. He twisted round, and accompanied by a broiling in his stomach, spotted his phone, the screen shattered like a glittering spider's web.
The Doctor stepped around him, and picked it up.
"This is yours, isn't it?"
"Oh. Yes. I must have… dropped it," Charlie muttered, vividly recalling his rage. It wasn't a very convincing assertion, he was forced to admit.
"It's broken," the Doctor observed, turning it over, examining the back.
"Oh," Charlie grunted.
The Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver, and aimed it at the phone.
What was he doing? Charlie was aware that the Doctor might be able to access the call history with the sonic.
Charlie watched, as the cracks welled up with a viscous liquid, stitching the screen back together. Within seconds, the phone looked brand new.
"There, fixed," the Doctor exclaimed perkily, slapping the device back into Charlie's palm.
"Better than it was…" the Doctor added pensively.
"Thanks…"
The strip lights in the observation deck flickered, and died, plunging them into semi-darkness.
The Doctor grunted. "Hmm… that can't be good."
Author's Notes
Yes, we've finally reached the moment that was spoiled for the Doctor by Kate Stewart in Lucid Dreams. A room on the Moonbase with the windows…?
The paradox has been resolved. Their timeline is no longer fixed… now, anything could happen. Will the Doctor's tests be in vain?