Scene 29

Flashback.

Another hellish morning.

What sort of man had he become? John Frobisher hardly knew himself.

He'd seen footage of the poor man Clement McDonald, taken from the head cam of one of the UNIT operatives.

Screaming, like his head would explode. Blood coming from his ears, nose and mouth.

Watched as he sank to the floor at Gwen's feet.

Dead.

The awesome power of these creatures.

Nothing would stop them.

Brian Green had asked to see him. He no longer trusted that man.

His admiration for him long since faded. He was a toady.

Worse, he'd fashioned John in his own image.

What did Green want with him now anyway?

He'd carried out all the orders they'd thrown his way.

Done everything they'd asked. No questions.

He was just a Civil Servant.

He wasn't military, he wasn't a soldier, or a politician.

Just a suit.

Asked to perform tasks above and beyond his sphere.

There was nothing to do now except start the fake inoculation process.

No one would be any the wiser.

How on Earth would he live with himself?

He'd come up with the inoculation idea...a triumph, they'd told him.

What did that make him exactly?

An accessory to the enslavement of thousands of innocent children.

He knocked and entered the PM's office.

Green was at his desk, looking falsely distracted, writing a memo, pen scratching irritatingly.

He hardly remembered the conversation now, it was a blur...just a jumble of words.

Then he'd said it...calm, cold, detached, as if it didn't matter a jot.

As if he were reading a shopping list.

"You will send your own children for inoculation."

The words had stopped his heart. At first he thought he meant in a pretend way, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

But no, it was not pretend. It was real.

John Frobisher was being asked to voluntarily hand over his girls.

It would look good.

Be an example to others. There would be a camera crew.

Then he knew. Knew for certain.

He had been used. Completely. Utterly. Used.

It was the end.

The end of everything. He would never see another sunrise.

It was so clear in his head. Exactly how this day would end.

Nothing else mattered.

He left Green's office. Closed the door quietly behind him.

Crossed the vestibule and sank down onto the leather bench seat.

Bridget came towards him.

"I need a Requisition 31."

"What for Sir?"

"Requisition 31, thank you."

She turned, walked away, no protest.

Bridget procured him the requisition he required. She hadn't asked.

Had she guessed?

He didn't know. He didn't care.

Poor Bridget Spears, always ready to cover up for him.

So trusting, never ready to think badly of him. No matter what his failings, and there had been a few.

He held the box tight in the car on the way home.

His eyes barely focussed on the road ahead, or the view from the rear window.

He saw nothing.

His family were pleased to see him when he reached home.

Hugged and kissed him, as he sent them upstairs and asked them to wait.

Said he had a surprise for them.

His hands shook so much as he loaded the revolver, he could hardly manage.

He could hear their excited voices as he climbed the stairs, for the very last time.

Entered the room.

Closed the door very quietly behind him.

1...2...3 shots.

A pause.

Then one more.

Scene 30

Vvvoorrrrppppp! Vvvvoooorrrrrrppppppp!

That sound.

It filled the room.

The Tardis materialising. Fading in and out, becoming more solid.

Door swinging open.

The Doctor standing, hand outstretched.

"JACK!"

Taking one last look at the 456 clustered there, in confusion.

He yelled...

"SEE YOU IN HELL! YOU FUCKERS!"

Grabbing the Doctors hand he was pulled inside.

Falling forwards onto his hands and knees.

Sprinting to the console, the Timelord, whirled them into oblivion.

Before they were engulfed in a ball of fire.

From the safety of space they watched, standing at the open Tardis door, as the planet below them convulsed.

Jack's detonations set off shock waves, that ripped through the volatile surface of the planet.

The seismic energy released caused earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, the fabric of the whole place began to fracture.

The explosive charges more powerful than anything he'd envisaged...Kate's weaponry certainly packed a punch.

The beautiful city below was crumbling, caving in.

Falling in on itself.

Destroyed. Utterly.

In the maelstrom, one person had almost been forgotten.

A groan from the coat on the floor bought them both back to reality.

"Clara!"

The Doctor was by her side in a moment.

Jack, however, remained where he was.

Silent.

His eyes never leaving the fiery destruction on the planet below.

Tears coursed down his face.

Lost in his own thoughts.

Clara screamed in pain. She was fully conscious now.

Everything hurt.

Where the tubes had punctured her body, they still bled, oozed fluid, her limbs heavy, her head on fire. Aching. Searing.

The Doctor cradled her, comforting her, holding her close.

Pressing fervent kisses to her brow. Smoothing back her damp hair.

Leaving Jack to his reverie, he gathered her up and carried her to the Tardis med bay.

Unwrapping her from Jack's coat with trembling fingers, as she winced, cried out, writhed away from his touch, trying to push his hands away, she wept and cringed, as he carefully peeled the encrusted fabric away from her naked form, lost in a fog of hateful dreams, where cruel sensations stabbed at her.

He looked to the walls around him, wildly.

"Help me!" He cried.

The Tardis thrummed a response.

A cupboard swung open.

Inside, ointments, salves, suture, healing bandages, everything he could need.

His deft fingers ministering, touching, soothing. All the while speaking softly to her.

Tender, gentle, loving.

"It's okay, you're okay now. You're safe Clara. I'm here. I'm with you. You'll be fine."

Eventually, as she was still so distressed, and did not seem to be calming, he pulled her closer, and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Pass it all to me Clara, let me share it. Ease the burden, ease your mind. Let me in Clara."

He knew how difficult the telepathy had been for her untrained mind, how exhausting, but he also knew how strong and determined she was. She had managed so much better than he'd ever imagined she could, especially when they'd made love, and then afterwards, he hadn't even expected her to be able to reach him from a distance, but she had, she'd done fantastically well.

She would again.

The rush of raw emotion hit him, right between the eyes, before he was fully prepared to receive it.

Terror. Abject terror.

Fighting the probing hands.

Good God! What had they done to her?

Had they tried to...no, he couldn't bring himself to think about it.

Abandonment.

Emptiness.

A stifling feeling of suffocation, of numbness. No feeling in body at all.

Complete paralysis.

Only the mind functioning.

Desperately reaching out...

"I'm here, Doctor. Find me."

Words repeated over and over.

Voiceless screaming.

So intense was the horror of what she had been through, it took all his own telepathic strength to countermand it.

Slowly, steadily, he bombarded her mind with his love.

Wrapping himself around her thoughts, chasing away the blackness with light and colour.

Filling her mind with images of them together, safety, warmth, oneness.

The effort exhausted him. Sweat beaded his brow. But he didn't stop.

Sobs...heaving, deep, wracking sobs, left her.

Her fingers clung to his coat.

He finally eased away, letting his mind gradually ebb from hers.

He lifted her. Carried her to his room.

Laid her delicately in the bed. Covered her.

Stroked her hair...hushed her...in minutes she was deeply asleep.