CW: blood, references to non-consensual medical experimentation
Lana has to physically keep herself from looking back as they walk away from her prison's smoldering ruins.
"So, freedom. How does it feel?" The red-haired woman, Donna, hangs back to talk to her.
Lana feels herself going taut like a live wire. How does it feel? It seems unreal. She almost feels lightheaded. It feels like she'll be woken up by the bright lights of her cell and this will all have been a dream. She wonders if it will ever feel like it isn't a dream.
She realizes she's been silent for too long. "I'm not sure." Lana says. Was that the right answer? She eyes Donna but can't quite tell from the expression on her face. It's funny, she's so used to reading the Matron's sterile expressions, but now she can't tell what this expressive woman is thinking.
"How long were you in there?" Donna asks her. Another question, but this one is easier.
"They took me when I was nine," she says. "I just turned seventeen, so, eight years."
"Wait, today?" The Doctor asks her, glancing behind him. His long brown trench coat flares out as he takes long strides to the spaceship.
Lana shrugs. "That's what the Matron told me. That's why I wanted to get out, because she said I was due for another session in the Distributor tomorrow." She keeps her face expressionless.
They reach the TARDIS, the alien spaceship that looks like a blue box from the sixties. If the goal was to blend in, it isn't achieving that very well. The Doctor goes in first, then Lana, then Donna. She feels hyperaware of them, wondering if they would stop her from leaving if she tried, wondering if she's exchanged this prison for another one.
Lana almost doesn't notice the odd feeling of walking into a box that should be much smaller than it is. She feels off balance, but honestly, she's felt off balance all day, so she tries to take it in stride.
She can feel the Doctor looking at her, maybe trying to gauge her reaction. What kind of reaction does he want? It's hard to know—he's unlike anyone she's ever met before. Does he want her to be shocked and confused, so he can impress her? Or does he want her to be competent and unbothered, so he won't have to worry and cater to her?
She doesn't know, so she tries to stay in the middle and keep her face expressionless. Hopefully, he won't throw her out of the ship if she doesn't conform to his expectations. He and Donna seem like kind people, since they saved her as a child when there was nothing in it for them.
The Doctor moves to fiddle with something in the console, and Donna is hanging up her jacket on the coat rack, so Lana discreetly moves over to the spot closest to the exit, just in case she needs to run.
She won't be trapped again. She won't.
"Right, so Torchwood designed those so that no one on earth could take them off without killing you, and they succeeded." The Doctor says.
Lana's stomach falls. Will she always have this reminder of them, then? The cold bands seem to press against her. "So she was telling the truth. There was really no way?" Lana asks, her voice even.
The Doctor smiles. "We-e-ell, no one on earth, at this time. But luckily for us, this travels in space and time."
Time and Relative Dimension in Space, Lana remembers from Donna's introduction. "That's why you look the same age as you did when I was a child." Lana realizes. "It's not been long for you, while it's been nine years for me?"
Donna nods to her question, while the Doctor tries to avoid her gaze by putting in coordinates on the screen. "
We've been looking for you ever since we realized what happened." Donna tells her.
"Why?" Lana asks.
The Doctor stops his puttering with the console and looks at her. "What d'you mean, why?"
"Why did you care where I went?" Lana asks, hoping to just get this out of the way. "You saved the foster care. You could've just gone on with... whatever it is you do in your police box."
What do you want from me? She thinks but doesn't say.
The Doctor and Donna share a glance.
"We did leave." The Doctor admits, fiddling with his coat. "I thought UNIT would have a handle on it, but then I started thinking—why'd the Seculmites settle in that town, of all places? Before I defeated them, they'd told me that they came because of a power source, and I thought, well..." He darts a glance up at her.
"I thought that maybe the power source was you."
Lana hardly remembers the Seculmites. That time of her life is almost entirely a blur. She wonders if it's because it was so long ago, or because of the aliens that were feeding on her. But she'd always assumed they'd been feeding on all the children—but had it really been just her?
"Torchwood thought I was a power source too." All that time in their machines had to be for a reason.
"But why? Being psychic can't be that rare."
"Not being psychic, no." He looks at her, his brown eyes meeting her own. "But how high your psychic levels are... it's unprecedented in a human. I've never seen anything like it before, and I've been around for... a while."
"So you were curious." She says, ignoring that slip about being older than he looks to puzzle over later. "You were interested in an odd specimen, just like Torchwood."
"No!" The Doctor says, his brow furrowing. "Well, yes, I was curious, but that wasn't the only reason. Torchwood and I... have a history. I know how far they can go to get what they want, and I was concerned about what they would do to you."
"Well, I can satisfy your curiosity," Lana says, feeling oddly... disappointed. He hadn't wanted to rescue her just because of her. It was his interest in her abilities and his grudge against Torchwood. But of course, that was it. Why had she thought any differently? She looks away, annoyed with herself.
"When I was looking through their files, they said I was one hundred percent human. They'd looked for my parents and couldn't find them, done all sorts of DNA and... other tests, and every time it was the same."
"Really? I wonder if it was the exposure to the Seculmites at a young age that brought that out in you? Honestly I was prepared to believe anything but if you really are—"
"Doctor." Donna says sharply, cutting him off. The older woman shoots Lana a look that she's unsure how to decipher, since she's never seen it before. Is it... pity? Concern? Real concern, not just for manipulation?
"Is this really important right now?" Donna asks the Doctor.
"No, you're right. Let's get you somewhere that can take those off. People owe me favors all over the universe, you know. I'll just cash in one of them."
He moves over to the main computer again and puts something in. She itches to know how the TARDIS works but knows better than to ask. "You might want to hold on." He says to her, smiling again. He smiles a lot.
She obligingly grabs hold of one of the yellow spire things. It looks almost like it's living.
There's that odd wheezing sound and the floor starts to shake. Lana manages her balance well but is still grateful for her grip since she doesn't want to look like an idiot.
She wants to look outside and see exactly how they're traveling. She wants to know exactly how they travel in time and space so quickly. Torchwood educated her fairly well, up to a standard Year-Eleven education, but she still has absolutely no idea how the physics for this would even work.
She wants to ask, but she doesn't.
There's a thud, and the Doctor throws open the doors and walks out, Donna close behind. Lana's a little more cautious. Like before, they're in a completely different place now.
"Where are we?" Donna asks. They've materialized on the balcony of a skyscraper, with more buildings stretching as far as the eye can see. Lana walks out of the TARDIS and freezes.
"This is the Golden Age of New Earth." The Doctor says. "The height of human technology and medical advancements are achieved here."
New Earth? Is it really a new planet?
"So are we on a different planet now or what?" Donna pulls on her jacket. Lana's shoulders relax a little, glad that she didn't have to ask the question. Though, if Donna can ask questions, maybe it's safe for her too.
"Yeah, it's a different planet." the Doctor says, seemingly unbothered. "Located in the M87 Galaxy, 50,000 lightyears away from the original Earth, which was swallowed up by the Sun when it turned into a red giant, so humans evacuated and went here, a planet already chosen for the purpose. We're in the year five billion, thirty-five or so."
Lana can't keep herself from mouthing the words five billion. Donna notices and grins. "You get used to it."
"Right," The Doctor says briskly, "He should be around here somewhere..."
They spend a bit of time tracking down a man who looks human but apparently used to be blue, and is also apparently the Duke of Manhattan, and the Doctor also saved his life by stopping him from being blue. Well, that was how he explained it, anyway, in a very rapid-fire way.
After a boisterous conversation (from the duke's side, anyway) the Doctor quietly explains something to him. Lana only hears him say something about a surgeon, but it's enough to make her stiffen. The Duke of Manhattan nods enthusiastically and says he'll take them to his personal doctor.
"Ah, yes, the richest person's doctor." Donna nods sagely. "This'll be the best one."
They take a spaceship—an actual floating spaceship that flies them from the mayor's huge skyscraper to one a few blocks over. They land on the top level, and the duke has to put in a password to dock.
"Dr. Damien, please!" The large man says into the intercom.
They don't have to wait long before a lanky man in a light blue suit appears, opening the doors for them. "Come in, come in," he says warmly. "Your checkup is coming a bit early, isn't it? And who are these people?"
"I'm the Doctor, this is Donna, and this is Lana. We're here for her."
Lana stuffs her hands in her pockets but not before she sees Dr. Damien catch sight of the flash of metal on her wrists. "I see." He says slowly. "And I assume they come recommended by your esteemed self, my Lord Duke?"
The man in question puffs up importantly. "This man saved my life, Doctor. Do whatever the, er, the Doctor tells you."
"This could get confusing fast." Donna says under her breath as Dr. Damien raises his eyebrows.
"Doctor of what, exactly?"
"Ornithology, at the moment." the Doctor says breezily, but then his demeanor changes. "We don't have time for a waitlist, Doctor Damien. This is urgent. You see, Ms. Lana Phillips here has been fitted with psychic inhibitors against her will."
"How barbaric!" The other man frowns. "But surely a simple surgery—?"
"If I remove them, it'll sever my radial artery." Lana says bluntly. They all jump and look at her, as if surprised to learn she can speak. She's irritated at being spoken of as a specimen once again. (She's also terrified of being put through another procedure.) "I'll be dead in thirty seconds."
Dr. Damien's face settles into a troubled look. "Ah. Complicated. Let me..." he waves at them absently to follow him as he heads out of the large, ornate sitting room and into the halls where the actual surgeries and examinations must happen.
It looks sort of familiar, but there's equipment there Lana has never seen before. She starts to feel panic clawing up her throat as they get further down the hall and away from a visible escape route. The rooms are white, just like Torchwood was, and—
"You alright there?" The Doctor is suddenly at her side, and she flinches. "I'm sorry, this isn't going to be easy."
"Will-will it work?" she asks, hating herself for the stammer.
He shrugs, looking at her with sad eyes. "I guess we'll see."
They continue down the hall until Dr. Damien unlocks a door that opens into a huge room. "I'm going to develop a new serum for your unique problem. Of course, we have procedures to heal radial arteries, but to do so in less than thirty seconds will be a challenge. Go ahead and sit up there, I'll be needing your blood type in a moment. I don't suppose you know it?"
Lana shakes her head.
"Species? Include any ancestry that may not be human."
"I'm fully human." She says, staring at the table he's telling her to sit on. It's just a table, she tells herself. But for some reason her legs won't move. Dr. Damien doesn't even notice at first, grabbing a tube of something and a needle. It's a little larger than normal, but she's seen bigger.
He glances at her. "The table, please."
She takes a deep breath when Donna interjects. "Would you rather not sit there, Lana?"
"I..." Lana darts a quick glance at Dr. Damien. He doesn't seem irritated. "I would rather stand."
"Whatever makes you feel most comfortable." He says. "Though for the procedure I will need you to lay there." He then approaches her and squeezes out a paste onto his hand. "This is a numbing agent, it will help keep the blood drawing process painless."
She nods quickly, hiding her confusion. Why is he telling her? Is it important? Torchwood never gave her numbing for pain. Maybe this is a normal thing to do. She tries not to stiffen as he puts the cool paste along the inside of her elbow. He then puts on some blue gloves. "Alright, I'm going to draw your blood now."
She wonders if he can hear how fast her heart is beating as he calmly inserts the needle. It sinks into the vein, but she doesn't feel it. She watches as her blood fills up the needle. This isn't the first time she's had her blood drawn, but it is the first time she'd known it was going to happen.
There's a pause as the needle, which must have a built-in processor, reads her blood type. "You're O Positive. Right, let me just input that into the system." He moves over to the machine, puts it in, then hesitates.
"I hate to bring this up, but this is an incredibly fast-acting restorative, so it costs rather a lot." He darts a quick glance at the duke. "I assume you're, er, good for it?"
The large man frowns and opens his mouth, presumably to ask how much, when the Doctor jumps in. "I'm sure my good friend here is willing to do this favor for me? After all, I did save his life. You'd rather she had to live with shackles for the rest of her life?" His tone is light, but his eyes are hard as steel.
The duke looks flustered. "Ah, of course, you're right. Cost isn't a worry, my dear Doctor Damien. Continue with the procedure."
The medical doctor nods quickly and starts to make the serum. The mixer works of its own volition, clearly from the commands it has been given, and flashes when it needs a specific material, which the other man quickly supplies.
Lana is trying to focus on this and not on the pure white of the walls and the similarity to her Torchwood 'physical exams.' Whenever she thinks about that she can feel herself start to lose control.
"It's ready." He nods decisively and walks over to her. "Right, here's how this is going to work. Normally when we see patients here for the cutting of the radial artery, it takes about twenty minutes for them to bleed out because of blood clotting. However, if your information about it taking thirty seconds is correct..." He raises his eyebrows at her, and she nods jerkily.
"...Then these bands have likely been engineered to cut so cleanly it prevents clotting. It's beyond our technology to regrow the artery in under thirty seconds, so the first thing this serum will do is accelerate the clotting progress to give us a longer time frame of twenty minutes. Sound good?"
He looks at her, who's too busy trying to process the information at first to respond. She's never had all this explained to her before. It was always as if she was irrelevant, just something to work around. When she doesn't say anything, he looks at the Doctor and Donna for permission.
"Hey," The Doctor says. "Are you okay with going through with this?"
"Yes, it's fine." She says it automatically because it's the correct answer that everyone wants her to say. Sure enough, Doctor Damien looks relieved and moves to start the procedure.
"No, hold on." The Doctor holds up a hand, still with his eyes on her. She resists the urge to squirm on the table. "Are you really okay with this? Or are you just saying it to please us?"
"I..." She looks at Donna, who nods encouragingly at her. What is her opinion about this? This is the second time they've consulted her about which choice she wants to make.
Lana realizes that she's become so used to stuffing her wants down so that she isn't disappointed when they don't happen that she'd almost forgotten she'd had any. Do I want to do this?
"Yes." Lana says, with conviction this time. "That's the reason I escaped. And it'll give me freedom."
The Doctor gives her one last searching look before nodding and looking back at the other doctor.
"Would you like to be put under for this?" Doctor Damien asks her as he pulls on blue gloves.
"No!" Lana says reflexively before taking a breath. "No, that's alright. I'd prefer to stay conscious." She remembers being forced under during Torchwood, and every time she would wake up feeling the terror of not knowing what had been done to her body while she'd been unconscious.
"Are you sure? It's going to be unpleasant."
"I'm sure."
"No sedatives, nitrous oxide, anything?"
"Oi, she said she didn't want anything." Donna butts in. "Leave it alone."
"All right. One moment." Doctor Damien goes to the back of the room and unlocks a closet, taking out a hydraulic saw made for cutting metal. "This will be for the bands."
"I'll just..." The duke, looking a little green, ducks out the door. No one really notices him leave.
"This has on a safety so it will shut off the moment it goes near your skin. Just cutting metal today." He laughs weakly and stops quickly when no one else joins in. "Ready? Then lay back on the table, please."
Lana does as he says, trying to keep her breathing from getting wild as he pulls a short metal table near him, containing needles with two different mixtures in them. She doesn't close her eyes, preferring to keep an eye on him the entire time. She's rigid, ready to flee the moment he does something different than he said.
"Unclench your fists, please." He says softly, and she does her best to do so as he flicks the switch on the machine, making a soft whirring noise. He slowly, slowly, slowly lowers it towards her left hand, and then... it makes contact.
The awful screeching noise of metal against metal fills the room. Lana fights to keep her arms relaxed, to keep herself from lashing out physically, psychically, to halt her every instinct screaming at her to run. The saw keeps going down, down, until she feels the bands separate. There's a millisecond of relief and then an awful, deep slice, and blood starts to pour out of her wrist faster than Lana's ever seen.
Cold and hot runs down her body as her heart starts to beat faster, making the blood flow faster as well, killing her while trying to keep her alive. Lana gasps with the effort not to scream.
Doctor Damien quickly turns off the machine, snatches the first needle off the tray and stabs it into her arm. She barely notices the additional pain, but the blood starts to thicken and slow. He then grabs the saw, turns it on, and starts working on the other arm's band, but much faster this time.
He repeats the same motions as before with the syringe. Red is everywhere, dripping off the table and onto the white floors. With a strange, detached feeling, Lana notices that Donna has looked away in revulsion, but the Doctor is still looking at her, a hard, determined set to his jaw.
Doctor Damien strips off his gloves, which are now completely crimson, and pulls on new ones. He takes the second syringe and administers two shots on each arm. "It will take fifteen minutes for the wound to seal and the artery to regrow."
"It's already been three." The Doctor says, eyes narrowing. "You said twenty minutes for her to bleed out. That's too close."
"It's the only way."
Lana screws her face up and stares at the ceiling rather than look at the blood, her blood, that's everywhere. Despite the clotting, she can still feel it gushing out of her as her heart goes faster and faster and faster—
She feels lightheaded. She fights the feeling, knowing what it leads to, but black spots are gathering at the edges of her vision. No, she thinks desperately. I won't, I won't, I won't-
"What are you doing?" She hears Donna's sharp voice. "What's that third shot for?"
"She's panicking and it's accelerating her heart rate and the bleeding. I have to put her out."
Wait—
She sees Doctor Damien pick up another needle and move to inject her with it, a syringe with a sedative and she lashes out and knocks it out of his hands. She screams, not from the pain of moving her bleeding arm but the terror of falling unconscious from drugs, then waking up and her body being changed.
And suddenly she's struggling on a different working table, eleven years old and screaming, knowing they're going to put the shackles on, that she's going to feel that awful suppression again, then feeling a sharp pain in her arm of a needle and feeling her limbs go weak against her will. When she'd woken up, the cold metal was on her wrist.
Reflexively, she reaches for her psychic powers and flings them somewhere, anywhere, pushing out and feeling so much more powerful despite the weakness in her limbs and she hears something like choking coming from the people around her, the ones trying to make her different than she is. She hears someone screaming and isn't sure if it's her or not and—
There's a touch on her temples and then abruptly she feels a foreign influence on her mind.
Dark blue starry skies and nebulas, purples and reds and golds swirling around and so long so long so long—
"I'm really sorry for this. But you're hurting them, and yourself." The Doctor's voice in her head.
There's a heavy, heavy blanket being pressed on her mind, and she feels her panicked thoughts slowing, slowing, slowing... and she's in darkness.
A/N thanks for reading and happy 2024! i'm actually kind of proud of this chapter, i tried really hard to actually show what being in the kind of situation Lana was would do to her mental state. let me know if you liked it!