Text Key

"Audible speech."

'Directed thought, telepathic speech.'

Love And Monsters

Chapter 30 – Illusions In G Major

"And you don't know who it could be?" River asked again.

For once, we weren't hanging out in Mickey's slowly-emptying apartment - being slowly picked clean by visiting friends or more specific things being loaded into the free storage of my Warehouse -, but in River's flat downstairs, which she had filled with books and shiny little artifacts that probably didn't belong on early 21st century Earth.

The entire effect made it look a lot fancier than Jackie's place despite being the exact same floor plan, and I found myself feeling slightly out of place for wearing jeans and Six's coat over a kitty t-shirt.

"I mean, I have a rather likely suspect, but that's simply based on timing and a bad feeling, so I wouldn't swear by it," I admitted, not quite wanting to frame it out as 'I'm guessing based on a TV show of your life'.

Even if the Doctor knew about it, I still wasn't sure about River, though I was definitely sure that I didn't want to be the person who told her everything bad that ever happened to her was a matter of simple entertainment as far as many other universes were concerned.

I waved at the ceiling. "For all I know, it's some random thing that I've no context for or even just someone who was mildly creepy instead of being an actual threat."

River didn't look particularly impressed either. "Mm, I'm sensing a 'but'."

"But," the Doctor said for me. "Delaine's been getting the same vibes the last few days when we go out and about. Which means that, whoever or whatever this is, they are following us around for some reason. Never for long at a time and usually when there's a crowd about, but it's still enough to say that they're up to no good."

River sighed. "Well, that's a good enough warning for me," she said, standing up from her sofa. "Not that I was going to stay here forever, but I thought that I'd at least get a few more weeks of 'normal' in before moving on again. Alas, all good things must come to an end and dodging a stalker - even if they're not after me - is as good a reason to end this little vacation as any."

"Didn't you say something to me about 'normal' being dull?"

"Yes, but it's a nice palette cleanser between adventures… and it helps me stay in touch with what 'regular' people are like, instead of - well, you know what types I end up around," she said to the Doctor before looking at me. "I don't always like scaring them, you know. Only when I want to."

I nodded in understanding. That was a lesson that I had to refresh myself on often enough, especially as I got older and traveled farther and became stranger and stronger. That it was important to get on the level of regular people to understand them and not get caught up in the extremes you could be capable of if left alone. "If there's anything else you need…?"

"Then I will call. Or drop by, depending on the TARDIS's moods," River said, smiling at me. "I can say this much - you will get to see me again."

I smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

"You always do. Now, I really should start working on packing so I can be off," River said, turning to look at all the belongings in her room. "At least before your stalker gets the bright idea to start looking into me. I'm rather famous, you know, and even if you've managed to get the Doctor to fly under their radar, I'm a lot harder to keep undercover… well, that kind anyway."

My smile morphed into a proper grin. It really was impossible not to love River. She was just so effortlessly confident and smooth -

"Oh, and before I forget," River said, suddenly a lot closer than she was a moment ago. "A little thank you for all of your wonderful gifts."

Before I could even start wondering what River was talking about, she took me in her arms and dipped me into a low kiss, copper curls falling down to tickle the sides of my face.

Something in my brain popped, like a fuse overloaded, and my nervous system shorted out, and for a little while I stopped thinking at all.

As Delaine sagged in place, expression empty as she sank to the floor in a slow collapse, making a sound halfway between that embarrassed fizzling from before and a low keening cry as she started crawling towards the door, the Doctor pulled his wife to the side. "River…"

"I didn't mean to break her! I didn't even use any of the fun lipsticks at all while I was here," River protested. "I knew she was shy, but…"

But 'shy' didn't usually translate to going catatonic. "Yes, she's very… fragile, at this point."

It wasn't the best word, but it did communicate the basic concept.

River was still staring at her door, now open now that Delaine had crawled outside, still in shock. "And that's why you're being delicate with her? Because your previous face is-"

"No, no. That came later. Right now… well," the Doctor trailed off, his hands slowing as his fingers curled in on themselves. "She is… dealing with some older issues that have been stirring around for a while. I'm not really… the me that she's dealing with isn't part of those yet. Thankfully."

River gave him a look. "And that's the only reason why you're here?"

"Well, you know how hard it is to lock me out," the Doctor pointed out, avoiding the actual question. "And not just because of the sonic screwdriver."

After all, he had the dual advantage of not being as easily banishable as Delaine's headmates - though they certainly were a lot harder for her to cut herself off from without her limiter on hand - and, more importantly, knowing her tics and patterns. What his predecessor would have missed or misinterpreted, he was a lot less likely to foul up.

But he didn't know everything. Like the reveal about the importance of this face to her.

All of his selves liked being liked. Not just admired or adored, but loved and found special by someone who actually knew them on some level beyond 'oh, thank you oh scary handsome genius savior of my life/family/planet/solar system/cosmic cul-de-sac/whatever'.

Delaine was no exception to the rule, but she did complicate it. Routinely.

And, despite the Doctor having so many advantages in knowing her this time, she'd done it again. Just looked up at a face that she had no right to know about, told him that this face was the one that had set down the first proper stone of the entire pillar at the heart of their relationship, and then put her heart - still fragile and chipped from traumas that she couldn't share with his predecessor yet - in his hands like it belonged there.

So, yes, any pleasure that he got from knowing that he was extra special, trusted, and beloved by his companion was preemptively tainted by the guilty knowledge of what was to come, doubled by the fact that Delaine - usually so well informed as to what was going to happen next - had no idea what sort of storm was brewing in her future.

The shops weren't too bad today, Jackie figured as she lugged her groceries back up to her flat. The lines were a bit long, but that was always the case when something good was on sale, and Jackie had still gotten there early enough to have her pick of the produce section, so there wasn't much to complain about. Even the weather had been in her favor.

But all of that left her mind pretty quick when she almost tripped over something -no, someone in the stairwell, only to realize after she'd started on the first syllable of a swear that she knew who it was.

Delaine had curled herself up in a corner of the stairwell, knees to her chest as she scraped her fingers back and forth through her hair, tangling them in the strands and then tugging in a way that had to hurt. While it didn't look like she'd been crying like last night, there was still that essence of stress and frustration pouring off of her.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Jackie asked, looking the girl over. There wasn't any blood or bruises but… "Is whatever was wrong with you acting up again? Should I call the Doctor?"

"No! No," Delaine yelled before catching her volume and going quieter again. "It's just… stuff's happening. Stuff that I- I don't mind in theory but I don't know how to deal with it when it actually happens, because my brain is dumb and thinks that only bad things will happen, so I get overloaded worrying about that and-"

Delaine's hands jerked away from her head in mime of an explosion before she gestured vaguely at her entire self - mussed hair, shaking hands, and everything else attached between - as if that summarized the whole situation.

Somehow, it did.

Jackie sat down next to her. "Was the stuff that happened now the same sort that happened last night?"

Delaine didn't answer immediately, instead taking a minute to smooth out her breathing.

Jackie waited.

"Last night, the-" Delaine stopped the sound in her mouth, swallowing before trying again. "I didn't think Arnold was taking my… reasons for not doing certain things seriously. And that upset me."

"And he's taking you seriously today?"

"More seriously anyway. I think he knows well enough not to push on a sore topic at least. It was- someone else that pushed it. Not in a bad way, but it was…" she stopped for a moment. "...not what I was expecting."

Hm. "Do you want to talk about it back at my place?" Jackie asked. "Whatever the thing is? Maybe get something to eat?"

She would have offered tea, but Delaine had made her rather American position on 'boiled leaf water' quite clear from the start.

"...not really, but I have a feeling that you're going to go after it no matter what I say."

Jackie smirked as she stood up. "Smart girl. Now, was it romantic?" she asked as they walked back to Jackie's flat.

"Yes."

Oh ho, excellent. She'd have to tell Marge about the latest juicy development between the pair… once she had a few more details and the upset was far enough in the rear view that she wouldn't feel bad about gossiping about it. "And how did that go?"

Delaine grimaced. "Complicated."

Jackie led the girl to her sofa, guiding her down to sit next to her. "Complicated like what? Is it the 'but we're just friends' thing or you having feelings for someone else? Does he have a girlfriend?" A thought occurred to Jackie. "Or maybe a boyfriend?"

The girl sighed. "Let's say all of the above, save for the last, and then some."

Ohoho. This was the real dirt. "So, old friends, that part isn't that complicated, but the rest, I think you're going to have to take some time explaining."
Delaine sighed. "Alright, let me say straight off that I'm not a monk. I've had relationships before, I've flirted, I've been flirted with, and so on. I might not be good at it, but I have done it."

"I wasn't assuming you hadn't, given that big to-do about the Doctor ruining your pass at that fellow in that terrible coat," Jackie agreed. "But…?"
"But I don't do that with people I have complicated relationships with - and there's lots of ways for it to be complicated," Delaine continued. "Especially if I'm close to them."

Usually for Jackie, it was the other way around - she didn't really have complicated relationships without being close to someone. "And that's because?"

"Because… I said my brain is stupid, right? About bad things happening?"

"Yes."

"Well, one of my brain's favorite ways of doing that is just… assuming that it's just a matter of time until people get sick of me. That if I ask for a little too much, talk too loud, or hang around a little too long, I'll wear out my welcome and people will hate me," she explained, twisting her fingers. "It's an irrational trauma thing and people tell me that's not how it works, but I still… account for it. Try to be useful to make up for the fact that it's me taking up space."

Well, now Jackie was feeling guilty about all the repairs and lending Delaine out to her friends. She'd just assumed it was a boredom thing combined with just being nice, not the girl trying to 'earn her keep'.

"So if I… if I'm into someone I'm friends with, I just… never do anything with it. I shove the feelings in a box and sit on them until they stop moving because that hurts less than the idea of someone I care about deciding that I'm annoying or a creep or pushing me away with 'it's not you it's me' and then never talking to me again," she continued before stopping. "Think of it like… imagine if someone broke something precious to you. Something you couldn't replace. Like a handmade vase where there's no 'close enough' thing that could ever fill the gap."

Delaine gave Jackie a minute to assemble an image in her mind, which ended up less of a proper vase but of a lumpy bowl that Jackie had once made in art class as a child and then passed off to her da, who'd then used it as an ashtray up until the day he died.

Whatever, it was probably close enough for the exercise and it wasn't like Delaine could read minds to know the difference.

"Now," Delaine continued. "If it was Rose that broke it, I think even if you were mad, you'd still love her and forgive her pretty quick, because you'd know her enough to say 'well she didn't mean to do it' or something like that once you cooled off a bit, but you could also still hold onto that hurt for a long time, too, because she probably knew how important it was to you and you didn't feel like she gave a good apology."

Jackie found herself nodding in agreement as she remembered a few things that Rose had broken when she was young. Things that had been Pete's that had fallen victim to a little girl running around a flat slightly too small for how much energy she had to burn.

It was part of why she'd gotten Rose into gymnastics - to get all of that energy worked out of her system in a padded gym where there were less shelves and irreplaceable baubles to run into.

Delaine continued the comparison. "But if it was someone you didn't know that well, like some guy you'd only been on a couple dates with or a person who's a coworker, it'd be different; less personal and, since you wouldn't be as attached to them, you could move on faster. Just stop talking to them or whatever, move to the next thing. You'd still be upset about losing the bowl- vase, whatever, but you could just have one emotion about it and not have to wrestle with 'but they're my best friend' or something like that at the same time."

She stood up and started pacing.

"I mean, it can get more complicated than that, in different ways, and I have been more messed up lately because of… reasons, but I'm mostly just trying to communicate the idea that… I don't want to try getting romantic with certain people I know because I know that it'd hurt me a lot worse if we broke up or if they decided that I wasn't good enough or- or if I tried to start anything and they shot me down for coming on too strong or aiming out of my league or being too weird or something about me that I can't help," Delaine said, a sort of shaking desperation speeding up her words as a stutter snuck its way in.

She stopped, taking a breath. "So… it's just easier to just save that for people who I like but don't… don't have built up in my head as being that level of 'important'. Because it just won't hurt as much if it doesn't work out."

To Jackie Tyler, that sounded like an absolutely miserable way of existing. Not just the being scared of failure in life and love, but… just to assume that failure was probably inevitable and make plans just to make sure it hurt less when it happened.

"And what was that fellow to you?" she asked. "That one you were talking about with Arnold? Creepy?"

"Crepsley. And… well…" Delaine didn't answer right away. "...Larten could have ended up one of the complicated ones, but thankfully he let me down before I could get in too deep."

"Do I want to know what he even did?" Besides 'die', but there weren't a lot of ways that part could be misinterpreted, and there had to be some other thing that had made the man a mistake.

"I don't know; do you want the funny answer or the true one?"

Jackie considered the choices. "...I think the funny one."

"He let his pet tarantula crawl over his face and put her legs in his mouth."

"Oh, that is disgusting."

Delaine laughed. "I know! Absolutely wasn't going to kiss him after that. I've got strong opinions about the crossover between spiders and mouth holes and those opinions are 'hell' and 'no'."

Jackie let Delaine ride out the last waves of her wheezing snickers before asking her next question. "...and what was the real reason?"

Delaine's smile faded.

"...the real reason was just that he was just… hopeless," she said. "Literally. He was the kind of man who figured that the worst was going to happen no matter what he did so why even try in the first place?"

She laughed - a small, bitter noise after the earlier genuine giggle over the spider-business. "Oh, you could give him a challenge and he'd do it, brilliantly even, but dreams? Trying to better himself? Any abstract goals? Too much to ask for. And god forbid if you actually tried to get him to actually talk about his emotions." The girl leaned back, closing her eyes. "You know, Larten never smiled the whole time I knew him. He could smirk, he could scowl, he could sass, and he could definitely turn on the charm when he wanted to, but… he never did happy. And I think that's what killed it for me. Because he didn't even want to try to make anything in his life better."

"I mean, I'm not much better, but I'm… I try to be more active in life. To actually live, rather than just exist out of habit." Delaine sighed. "I'm probably making him sound awful. He wasn't. Larten was just… complicated. And it's easier to remember the parts that hurt. The let downs, the arguments..."

"The spider legs in his mouth."

Delaine's smile twitched back to life for a moment. "That too. Madame Octa was a very pretty spider, but she really wasn't my type."

The conversation went dead for a minute.

"I'm sorry for prying into your personal life."

"No, I get it. I was messed up and you were worried and wanted to help," Delaine said. "It's not something you have to apologize for."

That was probably a more generous interpretation of Jackie's motive than she would have given herself. "...what are you going to do about Arnold making things complicated?"

"Probably stuff those feelings in a box and sit on them until they stop moving," Delaine admitted. "I don't think I'm… built for long term, happily ever after-type romances and he already has someone who I'm not interested in competing with. It's just better to leave it at 'he's someone I care a lot about' without throwing anything else into the mix."

Jackie frowned. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with Arnold specifically," she said. "But you shouldn't treat your whole life like that. It's no way to live, just assuming that you don't have a chance and shouldn't try in the first place. I'd think you'd know something about taking risks from traveling with the Doctor by now."

"Different kind of risks, I think," Delaine said, smiling wistfully. "It's easier to manage something scary when you know how to handle it. I can fix a broken car and I know what goes into fixing a twisted ankle or a broken leg, but I've never quite figured out the trick to mending a broken heart."

"If anyone has, I'd like to meet them and sock 'em for not sharing that bit of information around earlier," Jackie said, popping her fist up in the air in demonstration before settling down again. "But, speaking from experience… it's something that you never quite fix. You get used to it. Fill in the gaps a bit as time goes on and you find new things to love."

Jackie gestured at Delaine.

"And you're young! You've got time to do all that! Take some risks, even if it's complicated! It's better to at least chance something hurting for a chance at something happening than just let the rest of your life be a big fat nothing because you're too scared of 'doing it wrong'."

Delaine smiled. "Suppose I can't argue with that. Though I'm going to hold you to the same, Jackie Tyler."

Jackie could live with that, even if she did figure that her own odds of finding love again were pretty low. There wasn't ever going to be another Pete Tyler in the world, after all.

The next meeting of LINDA had started well, Elton thought. It was another music session and he was content to stay safely within that territory, far away from anything that resembled the uncomfortable intensity that had defined his online conversations with Victor Kennedy.

"So what's your favorite ELO song?" Elton asked Della.

She didn't even blink as she went through the motions of tuning her bass, gently plucking the strings to test their sound as she went. "Twilight, easy. The Daicon IV animation wouldn't have been the experience it is without it."

He nodded, adding a mental note to try looking for a video of it when he got home.

Arnold, for his part, hemmed and hawed. "I mean, they have so many good ones... Ticket To The Moon, Strange Magic... and you can't go wrong with Don't Bring Me Down..."

"Of course." All of those were classics. "What would you say is the best album thou-"

There was a great ka-clunk as the basement lights all went out at once, followed by the sound of the elevator coming down, the light of its bulb casting barely any light around the massive wall of its passenger as it came down - and that person was too big to be anyone Elton knew, even with the hat in the way.

The figure inside pulled open the gate doors, stepping out into the basement with measured precision.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Mr. Skinner asked. "If we were being too loud…"

The man didn't immediately answer, instead setting down his suitcase on a table - knocking aside some papers one of the others had left out - and removing his hat to brush some imaginary dust off from the black felt brim, only to make a dissatisfied sniff with the final result before leaving it on top of the suitcase.

Then, the stranger reached up and clapped his hands. "Lights."

The lights turned back on.

Elton was fairly sure that the basement had never been fitted with a clapper system.

As had been betrayed by his silhouette in the lift, the stranger was a large man; not just in the sense of being fat, but broad at the shoulder and tall to go with it, dwarfing everyone else in the room with a bit of room to spare, even compared to Arnold's comfortable six foot height.

But, somehow, Elton was sure that height had very little to do with the way this newcomer was looking down at everyone, given that he was wearing a long wool coat complete with black fur - real fur, he'd wager - collar and had an actual silver-headed walking stick in his free hand, which was a perfect match in color for the silver, carefully oiled hair arranged in… were those finger waves?

No matter what the exact names for the style was, it was much, much too fancy for the disused basement of an aging library and for the people in it.

"I? I am Victor Kennedy," he said, finally sealing the suspicion that had been slowly creeping up Elton's spine. He had the exact sort of plummy voice Elton had expected from the man on the other side of all of those online conversations, along with that particular combination of condescension and theatrical bent that had saturated every keystroke, now further intensified by real life's allowance of tonal range and physical gesture. "But you, dear LINDA, may call me your salvation."

"Victor… Kennedy?" Bridget asked uncertainly. "Are we supposed to know-"

"Well, you should, though I suspect that Mr. Pope has not seen fit to share the details of our little conversations with the rest of you," Victor said, walking around the room, looking down his nose at Bliss's art and the musical instruments. "Though I am hardly surprised - I suppose that it would be a bit embarrassing, revealing this level of unprofessionalism and the utter absence of proper leadership in your little… group to an outsider."

Della stood up, moving herself between Victor and Elton, pointing the headstock of her bass at Victor like a spear. "If you came here to bully us for not being 'serious' investigators, you can turn yourself around and leave."

"Oh, me? A bully? Please, I would never dream of laying hands on anyone without good cause," Victor tutted. "I am simply offering… constructive criticism."

That was the more polite way of saying 'I'm just brutally honest', in Elton's experience.

"I'm sure that you all have your own unique… talents to bring to the table," Victor said, casting a glance - and a faintly sour twist of the mouth - towards Bliss's art display as he pushed one piece to the side to make room for his suitcase. "You simply lack the guidance to properly utilize them - to become something more. It would be remiss of me not to offer my expertise in such matters; I've often been the head and heart of every group I've ever joined by the end. Now, come here - I have something for you all to see."

The question of why Victor wasn't pushing them around then wasn't voiced, but Elton was fairly sure that he wasn't the only one thinking it as they gathered around him. Instead, the question he asked as Victor pulled a series of folders from his suitcase was…

"What is it?"

"Torchwood files. Ahah, stay back," Victor said, warding off the group as they moved in closer. "I cannot be touched by human hands - my eczeeeema, it's rather severe."

"...I didn't think eczema got that bad," Elton said.
"Oh, what I have is infinitely worse than that," Victor said, this time saying the name correctly. "A single touch of foreign skin oil against my own and I will immediately blister horribly. Do keep that in mind… as you keep a respectable distance."

"How would you get those files in the first place?" Della asked, all seriousness as she changed the subject. "They're pretty vicious there. License to kill, among other things."

"Oh, one has ways," Victor demurred, before sighing in a put-upon manner. "Unfortunately, their files are rather incomplete - Torchwood may have been following the Doctor for over a century, but they have never managed proper contact, working mostly off of limited secondhand information. And what little they have…"

Victor tossed a number of print-out photos on the table, leaving it clear that something had happened to them that had left their images foggy and distorted. The text prints were clearer, but still short and vague from what little Elton could see from the one he'd picked up.

"As you can see, there's not much to go on. All I have is a few names. A 'Sir' Delaine and a Rose Tyler are some of the few 'compatriots' of the Doctor that UNIT never managed to remove information on," he said, tapping a picture of what looked to be a blond girl, face obscured by digital artifacts. "I have traced Miss Tyler to London, but the reports on the other have been… well, difficult, with descriptions that cannot even agree on hair color or gender, let alone more significant details such as location of origin. Likely some sort of alien with a faulty disguise, unable to properly pass as human."

Della looked annoyed with that assessment. "Somehow I'm not surprised Torchwood wouldn't have shit."

"Oh, you're familiar with the organization?" Victor asked, smiling.

"Enough for contempt," Della said vaguely as she thumbed through a file. "But that doesn't tell us why you're sharing this information with us."

"Oh, but that's what I've been telling you - I intend to shape the lot of you into proper investigators. People who can follow a lead, given the right direction." With this, Victor held up a stack of laminated folders. "And with that, I have the first round of assignments for you all."

As the group took one each, occasionally getting a sharp warning from Victor if they happened to get too close to his hand, the man explained the broad concepts of what he wanted.

"As I've yet to see what any of you are capable of, I've kept things simple - you've either been assigned to check out certain locations of interest or look into individuals who have been noted to have had contact with the Doctor in the past - for lack of full information on any of them, I have estimated ages and careers along with partial names, so I simply expect you to do your best, as it were, to find more to follow up on," Victor said. "As for the locations, those are based on rumored sightings and some readings from some… specialized equipment. Nothing that gives exact details, so it is best to have boots on the ground."

Mr. Skinner made an unhappy noise. "This seems rather time consuming - I've got work you know! Teachers don't get time off that easily, especially this close to final exams."

"Then do what you can with what time you have!" Victor bit back. "I made time out of my busy schedule for you lot, you can at least show the same courtesy. Now, off with you."

It took some time for everyone to pack up their instruments - Arnold's bassoon kept trying to fly out of his hands every time he tried to handle it and his assignment at the same time, at least until Della had taken the papers in her own hand - but slowly, LINDA made their way out, small murmurs of uncertain conversation floating down the stairwell ahead of Elton as he prepared to leave with Ursula and Bliss.

"Oh, and Miss… Bliss, was it? If you could stay after?"

Bliss almost turned around, only for Ursula to whisper something in her ear. "Ohhh, sorry, Victor, but we've got a thing right after this, so we can't stay!"

Victor frowned as he rearranged his remaining files. "I suppose I'll have to catch you some other time, then. Off with you then. And don't forget - I want tangible progress on those assignments before the next meeting."

Elton stopped, waiting for Victor to finish.

He stayed waiting for several minutes before the man looked up from the idle shuffling he'd been doing. "Did you want something, Elton?"

"It's my job to shut everything up when the meetings are done."

"Oh - my apologies," Victor said, said apology not sounding particularly convincing as he packed up his things. "I forgot that you do have some… leadership responsibilities to the group."

Prat.

As they made their way up the stairs, Elton let Victor's prattling about how useless everyone in the group seemed to be and how hard he'd have to work to get them to be useful wash over him, instead focusing on his thoughts until…

"If you don't have any use for us, then why don't you just leave then? Do it all on your own?"

Victor huffed. "I have my own reasons."

Angry, Elton reached for Victor's shoulder, to stop the man and turn him around and get some manner of proper answer of out him, only for his hand to be swatted away by that cane at the last second.

"Did I not tell you but fifteen minutes ago not to touch? Not only because of the eczeeema, but because I doubt that you'll ever be able to replace this coat if you damaged it with that piddly paycheck that little logistics company shoves into your hand every week," Victor scolded as he turned around on his heel. "This is real sable, you know."

Elton felt the bottom of his stomach lurch as he processed that detail - he'd never told Victor where he worked, much less how much he made there. "Why are you here, Victor? Why are you really here?"

"Oh, Elton. Dear, ignorant Elton. Did you think that you could tease me with those first-hand stories of the Doctor and not pique my curiosity?" the man cooed cloyingly, tapping Elton on the end of his nose with the head of that fancy cane. "Just because you have forgotten your true purpose, content to eat the lotuses of unimportant meaningless twaddle, doesn't mean I have. And to turn down such interesting leads? Really."

The head of Victor's cane, Elton noted dully, was two clasped fists. That was somehow very appropriate, for a bully who was so staunchly 'hands off'.

A black car came around the corner silently, ghosting its way to a stop right in front of them.

Elton was pretty sure that he hadn't seen Victor call or text for anyone at any point during the meeting, but he had other things to focus on. "Just because I don't want to put my friends in danger of getting arrested or worse because of some Doctor hunt, doesn't mean that I'm useless."

Victor simply smiled as he opened the back door. "And that's really the difference between us. The hunger that drives the hunt. I am ready to chase down my prey so that I may feast like a king. You…" Victor gave Elton an entirely unnecessary once-over before sliding into the backseat. "You are the manner of man who feels hunger and simply calls for takeaway."

That should have been the last word. Something that made Elton feel useless and worthless and like nobody at all. But he knew Victor Kennedy well enough not to be surprised when the man rolled down the window to talk some more.

"My dear Elton, I can make so much better use of this group than you have. Where you have spent three months gathering dust and fond memories, I will need nothing more than three weeks to get what I want. And then…? Well. You might find yourself quite comfortable as my right hand. And it'd be so much easier if you just let it happen."

"I don't think so, Victor," Elton said, holding his ground despite how much he wished the earth would just swallow him up. "We're not just… things you can use!"
"Don't suppose I should be all that surprised," Victor said with a put-upon sigh as he rolled up the window. "After all-"

"'- you're only human after all'," I finished, dropping my imitation of Victor to mutter, "What a smug bastard," as I dug further into the guts of one of my motorcycles.

We'd stayed back, hiding a bit just to make sure that everyone had gotten out of the meeting safe. I'd known too many predators - vampires, humans, and otherwise - to be comfortable trusting in a random one's ability to play the long game when there was a selection of low risk morsels right in front of them, ready to be snatched up.

But Elton had come out of the situation alive and we'd made our own exit after Victor's, meaning that there was now time to stew over the whole situation back at the council estate, which - for me - meant taking out some frustration on some nit-picky little bit dirt clogging up my machinery.

"The fact that he actually took the time to make a snide comment about your gender of all things," the Doctor said, focusing on another issue. "I looked it up after you'd given me some details on this 'Abzorbaloff' - they don't even have gender on Clom, where does this bloke get off on enforcing outdated human binary expectations on someone else?"

True. That had annoyed me - not that there'd been a shortage of reasons to be annoyed -, especially when mixed with the 'not human' bit. I still considered myself human and having some asshole say that I wasn't based on… what? How well I could pass as a 'normal' human of whatever gender was clocked as 'appropriate'?

Once again - What. A. Bastard.

And to think that this judgment of constituted 'normal' was coming from a guy who'd apparently crafted his human persona off of some villain stereotype cooked up off of Captain Planet reruns and a few internet guides on how to spot That Guy in fandom spaces - or better yet, how Not To Be That Guy advice twisted backwards from its intention… that was just the frosting on the cake.

And then there was the cherry of the so-called 'mission'. "'Oh please, check out this isolated location, I promise it's fine'. Like I haven't seen that rodeo ten million times." I looked up from my work. "What kind of horseshit homework did you get?"

The Doctor hissed. "Well, apparently I'm supposed to look up a number of people, their personal schedules, and their home addresses - and I am rather unhappy that I recognize more than a few of the names as belonging to friends of mine."

"I'm gonna just straight up knife him if Jo's on that list." Or Peri, but most of the Peri's I was aware of weren't anywhere within Victor's reach in the first place.

"Excellent! Because she is and I am upset enough not to stop you."

That got my attention, because that was a real indicator of how done the Doctor was with Victor… or how seriously he was taking the threat the Abzorbaloff presented to his friends. Probably both. "I think we need to come up with a proper game plan if we're really going to take steps here."

"Planning is good - but a plan needs to be built around what we know," the Doctor said. "So what do we know about Victor Kennedy? Abilities, talents, background, goals…"

"Well, we covered the whole planet and related systems bit, we're clear on him being a manipulative douchebag made in the image of Ian Levine… and he's been on Earth for a while, did something to set up a relatively wealthy human identity and has been good enough at it not to get snatched up by Torchwood. As for his goals…" I thought about it. "Honestly, I think it started and stopped at eating you."

"...really?" the Doctor looked faintly put out. "They're usually… more interesting than that. Religious motivation, intent to 'save the universe' from the mystery man with the penchant for exploding things, steal my TARDIS to run rampant through time and space, stuff like that. And this one fellow from Clom, of all places, just wants to eat me in the most literal sense of the term? Does that even do anything for him besides give him the pleasure of eating the Last Time Lord and a mild risk of indigestion?"

"I think that the Abzorbaloff's ability is… well, absorbing people both physically and mentally? You could trick him into absorbing something bad or too big for him, but I can't remember the specifics off the top of my head beyond him getting absorbed by the Earth at the end." It'd been a long while since I'd seen the episode and I hadn't really been in much mood to review it again. "But I think that means that your memories and intelligence are the primary draw, with TARDIS access on the side."

"...slightly better, but still disappointing." The Time Lord sighed. "I mean, really, everything about this fellow is dull and irritating. He's a bore in person, doesn't have that interesting a motive, and even his strategy seems to be rather simple 'identify, track, isolate, and attack' tactics… and he's not even willing to do the work himself."

I moved around to the other side of my bike to continue the cleaning process. "Yep. Not sure how much he has in the way of impulse control, but considering that he tried to get Bliss to stay immediately after the meeting… I somewhat doubt he has a good handle on it."

"So then this just leads to figuring out how to remove as many members of LINDA from his reach as possible," the Doctor said, spinning a finger around. "I could-"

"No lottery tickets."

The Time Lord made an offended noise. "I have other ways of getting people out of the way than rigging lotteries."

"How many times have you solved people problems by throwing a massive amount of money at them?"

The Doctor raised a finger, opening his mouth to reply before stopping to do a rapid count. "...alright, you may have a point. But I'd like to hear what your ideas are then, if that one's not allowed."

"Bridget's daughter."

The Doctor flinched - almost imperceptibly, but the twitch was still telling. "The one she's hoping I'll help find."

"Yeah," I said, stretching out my arms out for a moment. "I figured you were going to be looking for her anyway, because I know what you're like, but if we speed up the time table, I bet that a family reunion and getting everything settled back down will probably keep Bridget busy for a week or two. Mr. Skinner too, if we're lucky - he's been helping her look for the last month so I wouldn't be surprised if he helps out as emotional support."

"Oh, yes. That part's simple enough - even if we scrap DNA scanning as a route, this is the 21st century - you humans have cameras all over the place now and all sorts of cards with names attached leaving trails wherever you go," the Doctor said, waving his hand. "So long as I can find the start of her trail, I can trace her path from departure - might be a little rough but between the TARDIS and my blistering intelligence, I think that we can manage it. Might need a little work around on your end to keep me mysterious though."

"Oh, that won't be any trouble at all - I've got enough charge to get one of the others out and Gemma's been itching to do something lately." That was the most generous saying she was constantly complaining about my entire approach, right? "As for the rest… well, they're harder to pin down."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I have absolutely no idea what to do with Bliss. She doesn't talk about family at all, her interests change pretty abruptly sometimes, and..." I paused only to grimace. "Yeah, I don't think even the lottery ticket trick would work. She'd probably end up coming to a meeting specifically to share the windfall around."

The Doctor smiled. "Reminds me of when I was getting used to you. Never could quite pin down what you were going to do next for those first few months. Made a fool of myself with assumptions quite a few times."

"I'm looking forward to seeing that circus then," I said before switching back to business. "What about Elton and Ursula?"

"I think they're going to be the holdouts. Ursula's been squaring up to fight Victor since he showed up and Elton…" the Doctor waved his hand in a wibbly motion.

I agreed. "Elton's caught between feeling guilty for bringing Victor in, wanting to protect his friends, and still being hung up on you - less you-you and more the idea of you - holding the answer to his childhood trauma, and between those three things, I think he's past the point of being willing to give up and go home. Makes me worry that he might try something stupid trying to do the right thing."

"Sounds a bit like someone else I know," the Doctor said.

"I know. That's why I'm worried."

Jackie was going to miss Delaine when she finally left. Not because the girl was good company, though she was an easy enough roommate whenever she was around, but because of how wonderful it was to be spoiled by someone not only willing to fix all of her appliances for free, but also cook what must have counted as gourmet meals by anyone's metric.

"'Gourmet' technically means that it's got some out-of-region ingredient in the mix," Delaine corrected as she went through the process of seasoning the salmon she'd sizzling in the pan. "But if you go by the intent, it's basically when the chef approaches food as an art form."

"And you are?" Jackie asked.

Delaine shrugged. "Not really. I have some of the intent to explore and combine different things you might not think go together, but I enjoy cooking mostly because I like taking care of people. Good food is a way to make people feel welcome and cared for… and I like eating good myself, so it's a double benefit. But I'm not in it to make a statement beyond 'I want you to enjoy yourself at my table'." The lemon in Delaine's hands abruptly pulped, spraying more juice across the counter than onto its intended target. "Unlike some people, where everything they have do has to be a fucking production."

"Did Arnold do something stupid again or is something else putting you into a mood?"

"Some douchebag is ruining that sci-fi group I told you about," Delaine said, taking the time to flip the fish she was frying with a lot more aggression than Jackie thought was possible with a spatula.

"And how's he doing that?"

"You know the type of person who likes to tell everyone that they're doing everything wrong and that they shouldn't be having fun, but never actually does anything themselves?"

"Ah. One of those anoraks."

Delaine grimaced. "I think that implies that Victor's actually enthusiastic about anything, rather than being the kind of joyless bastard who only experiences happiness when he's pissing in someone else's Cheerios." She gestured vaguely at the simmering potatoes. "Like, if he was just the kind of person who liked trivia, I could respect that. I take information about my favorite show, shove it in a blender, and then pour it directly into my brain to receive serotonin all the time. Victor? He's just… this bossy asshole who wants to be the Rightest Person In The Room but also thinks everyone else around him is a dribbling idiot who should exist to serve him and echo everything he ever says back at him."

Unfortunately, Jackie knew the type; the officious sort who tended to think they were better than everyone else because they went to a Proper University and made So Much More Money than you or something else that didn't usually apply to whatever was going on. Yes, like going to Cambridge for Business or whatever made them more of an authority on how to correctly handle a perm than the person dressing their hair right then.

Jackie always enjoyed seeing those ones come back into the shop a day or so later, hair ruined because the process of earning that Cambridge degree hadn't covered why they weren't supposed to get those hair processing chemicals wet for the next twenty-four hours.

"What's a good trivia bit from your favorite program then?" she asked as she poured herself a glass of wine. "Since you pour it into your head for fun."

Delaine thought about it for a minute as she served up the meal. "One of the main actors in the 70's was supposed to do a chase scene where he drove a hovercraft for a bit, but they didn't give him time to practice with it and filmed on a windy day, so he ended up taking out both halves of the filming crew over the course of two takes."

Jackie laughed. "Hah! That is fun. They have him do a lot of stunts like that?"

"Yeah. His run on the program was very James Bond, so it was really funny when it came out that he actually worked in the Naval Intelligence Division during the Second World War alongside Ian Fleming. Mostly doing little gadget demonstrations, but still."

"Seriously? Are you making that up?"

Delaine laughed, holding up her hands. "I promise, Jon Pertwee did that all without my input. It's also funny because I think practically every other work he did was comedy, before and after."

The rest of the meal went like that, with Jackie eating delicious food as she occasionally prompted Delaine to give her another background detail to a show that, for all Jackie had likely never seen it, at least was good enough to put a smile on someone's face just by talking about it.

Who knew? Maybe Jackie'd ask Delaine if she could borrow a DVD if there wasn't anything on the telly. Anoraks like her always had the full collection and copies to spare.

Author's Notes

Y'know how I kept saying this arc was going to be done 'next chapter'?

It's going to be done next chapter. For real this time. I promise.

I was aiming for this to be the last chapter and had a reasonable expectation for that to be the truth (plotting was getting to the end), but the bloating word count + pacing requirements + interactions required to make sure all the three lines of this arc (LINDA, Eleven + River, and Jackie) were all balanced correctly made that impossible.

Seriously, I realized that it wasn't going to work as a single chapter when I checked the word count and it was 10k+ before I'd done more than a third of the climax and hadn't even breathed in the direction of the denouement.

At least I have learned a valuable lesson in Don't Do That.

(Or at least, account for it in advance if you are going to do that).

In case everything felt a bit weird in terms of time frame here, I rechecked everything I wrote and this 'arc' (and the previous Downtime) takes place over the course of around ten to thirteen weeks (we're not quite at the end stretch here), with a little wiggle room. This fits within the vague time frame of the canon version - LINDA being formed in early 2007 and 'breaking up' (everyone but Elton dying) in spring of that year.

Yes, I also know that if we were sticking to that specific timeline this makes Delaine being in/around Mickey's empty apartment kind of ? because of School Reunion definitely not taking part over what would have been winter break, but it's fanfiction about a time travel show + I didn't say anything about what season it was beyond 'rain/mist being able to happen' so we can ignore it, shhhh.

Jackie is a very fun character who I enjoy a lot, despite (or maybe because of) her capacity to be That Bitch. I like her less in Series 1 because of her being shitty to Mickey, but when she's not doing that she's a delight + it's always fun watching her (rightfully) kick the Doctor's ass.

Why yes, Victor is deliberately being written as The Worst Person to share a fan space with. He only gets More Pleasant in the next chapter.

Yes, those are True Jon Pertwee facts, along with the fact that he narrowly avoided being on the HMS Hood at her time of sinking due to being transferred off ship for officer training and got blown up once (he was caught up in the outskirts of the blast and ended up blown/sucked out of the building he was in by the air pressure) and woke up in a makeshift morgue afterwards.

He's a very interesting person and there's a number of excellent interview bits with him available on Youtube.

Anorak - British term for 'geek'/'nerd'/'obsessive fan', originally because trainspotters were somewhat known/stereotyped for wearing anorak jackets for practical reasons and then it spread out into a generalized fandom use. It's not a one-to-one translation because almost every time I've seen 'anorak' used, it's been three or four degrees more hostile/negative than how Americans would use 'geek' or 'nerd', even in the heyday of hostility towards that demographic, but it was fitting for the conversation and Jackie's general personality.