Fic: If It's Alien, it's Ours (3/3)
Title: If it's Alien, it's Ours
Author: Gillian Taylor (dark_aegis)
Characters: Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor, Jackie Tyler, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Yvonne Hartmann
Spoilers: Dalek
Rated: All Ages
Disclaimer: Not mine by any stretch of the imagination. I'm just having fun with them
Summary: "Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor. We've been waiting for you."
Author's Notes: First fic in months! This is rather exciting. Work's calmed down a bit, so I can write again. Anyway. Thanks, as always, to the ever brilliant wendymr for her BRing assistance. And with this chapter, we've gone into AU territory.
Chapter 1: Missing | Chapter 2: The Chase
Chapter 3: Rescue
The Brigadier studied the plans on the monitor, wishing not for the first time that he had remembered to bring his glasses from home prior to coming to London. One Canary Square was far too public a place for a full frontal assault. He couldn’t afford to get any civilians caught in the crossfire. Of all Torchwood’s properties in the London area, it made sense that this would be where Yvonne Hartmann would keep her prize. It was the heart of her little kingdom.
He would love to destroy that place; remove every trace of it from the collective consciousness until nothing remained. He certainly didn’t care for their strong-arm tactics or their complete disregard for standard operating procedures. How could UNIT breach it, though? He had to give them credit for being a paranoid lot. They would be suspicious of their own mothers if it came to it.
Ah, yes. Canary Wharf. Lots of people tended to frequent that area. If, say, there was a bomb scare and they called for mandatory evacuations...
He rested his hand against his chin. It could work. Force them to evacuate and bring in his soldiers as bomb squad members. A floor-by-floor search would help. His contact in Cardiff had stated that the Doctor most likely could be found in one of the basement level holding rooms. Torchwood had alien technology, though. They could probably locate any bombs in their own facility far more easily than any conventional bomb squad. But what if there was a way to neutralise their technology?
Alistair tapped a finger against his jaw. Miss Smith would probably be willing to use her computer for this. He could also contact the Prime Minister, drop a few hints about what was going on, ask her to invite Yvonne Hartmann to Downing Street for something or other. That would get the one person who would most likely try to keep her prize safe out of the way. When the bomb threat was called in, without Yvonne present, Torchwood would be far more likely to comply with a mandatory evacuation order.
A feral smile crossed his face as he looked up from the computer. His smile disappeared the instant he looked at Miss Tyler. She looked anxious, fidgeting in her seat as she watched him intently. “How’re we going to rescue the Doctor?” she asked.
“With a little subterfuge,” he replied and began to tell her his plan.
The headset made a satisfying crunch as it was forced into its receiver. Yvonne would much rather toss the damned thing off her desk, but it wouldn’t do to give into her anger. The blinds were open. Her people could see her at any time they liked. It didn’t present the sort of image she liked to nurture about herself if she went about destroying office equipment.
Still. It was ridiculous to receive two calls of that particular calibre one after the other in the same day. There’d been something of an emergency in the holding cells thanks to her incompetent technician giving the Doctor something that sent him into cardiac arrest. Thankfully, that same technician was able to reverse the effects and keep the Time Lord alive. Her fingers curled into fists as she considered just what she should do with that technician. It would be unacceptable to lose the Doctor now.
Yes, she had his blue box, but without the Doctor it meant little. She couldn’t open it. None of her people could. Nor could they make the damned man wake up. Incompetence. She was surrounded by it. And now the Prime Minister wanted her to come to some ridiculous national security meeting. The timing couldn’t be worse.
She had no choice. If she wanted to maintain the favour of the prime minister, she had to obey the summons. The Doctor and his ship would keep. She sighed and picked up the phone, pressing the button that would summon her assistant. “Have the car brought around, Janet.”
“Yes, Miss Hartmann,” Janet said. She was a good assistant. Didn’t ask questions. Just did what needed to be done.
A pity more of her people weren’t like that. Then again, that would put her little kingdom at risk. She hung up the phone again and stood. The sooner she met with Harriet Jones, the sooner she could return to the Doctor and his ship.
She had plans for them both. Plans that involved all of time, space and everything in between.
Canary Wharf loomed over her, its shadow blocking the sunlight. She’d never thought this place was evil before. It’d simply been another office building in a city full of them. Now that she knew what its deceptive exterior hid, she could truthfully say it was menacing. And somewhere inside it the Doctor was being held captive.
She looked away from the view to her companions. Major Griffith wasn’t pleased that she was with them, but between her own stubbornness and the Brigadier’s unexpected assistance he couldn’t stop her. She was a part of this, regardless of how the military might frown upon it.
Rose shrugged on the bulky protective gear, wishing that she didn’t have to wear it. It was part of the plan, though. They couldn’t risk having someone recognise her when they walked into Canary Wharf. She was to be just another member of the bomb squad.
“Our sources indicate that the Doctor will be in the basement holding areas,” Major Griffith told her. “You, Davies and Kowalski will go directly there once we get inside. You will obey their orders. If they tell you to run, you’ll run. No heroics. You will have fifteen minutes to find him and get him out.”
She didn’t like it. Fifteen minutes wasn’t a long time. How could they be certain they’d find the right room? No. She couldn’t think like that. They would find the Doctor within the allotted time. And if her companions told her to run, well, she wouldn’t do it. She wasn’t leaving this place without the Doctor. “Got it.”
Griffith eyed her for a moment before he nodded curtly. Something beeped and the other soldiers snapped to attention. “That’s our signal,” Griffith said and hurried towards the building, followed closely by his men and her.
The bomb threat was, thankfully, being taken seriously. People were starting to hurry out of the building as they reached the front doors. Several employees - Torchwood and otherwise - paused and looked at them with frightened, but trusting eyes. It made her feel a bit guilty that they really weren’t there to save them.
No. She just had to remember the Doctor, and what had happened to her. Didn’t mean all of them were bad, of course, just... She sighed. She couldn’t even complete that thought without feeling bad. There were only a few people who deserved her anger. Not this lot full of accountants and secretaries and whatever else they might be. They were office workers. Couldn’t be expected to know everything that was going on around them. Most of them probably didn’t even work for Torchwood - or, if they did, didn’t realise it. She seriously doubted Yvonne Hartmann would’ve told all her employees that she was holding the Doctor. In all likelihood about half these people wouldn’t even know they were working for Torchwood.
At least they were out of the way. This was where things would start to get dangerous. Rose followed her assigned guards towards the doorway on the left. Griffith intercepted the security guard at the desk and introduced himself as the officer in charge of the bomb squad. Doors were opened, security was lax, and she could see the panic in the faces of the people who pushed past them to get to the doors. They were inside moments later and she couldn’t hear what Griffith was saying any more.
“This way,” Davies said, turning to the right and hurrying down the hallway. There were fewer people this direction. Thankfully, the bomb threat had kept most of the attention away from any strange people who might or might not be roaming about classified areas.
They found a stairwell and took it downwards. She was actually rather surprised by how many floors there were underneath Canary Wharf. It was only when they got to the fourth sub-basement that they left the stairwell. This time, Kowalski took the lead, taking them past several doorways before stopping at one that had a thick metal door. She wasn’t certain how the bloke knew this was the right room, but perhaps the Brigadier’s mysterious source had something to do with it. Regardless, there had to be some way inside. There wasn’t a handy window that she could peer through to see if the Doctor was inside, either.
Only way to know for certain would be to open it. Kowalski pulled something out from one of the myriad pockets that covered the protective clothing. She couldn’t see what he was doing from her current position. Most of his actions were hidden by the bulk of his clothing.
“Oi! This is a secure facility! You can’t be in here!” a man cried, startling her. She hadn’t even noticed him earlier. She’d thought they were alone. She turned quickly, rather surprised to find that the man was barely a few years older than herself. His white lab coat and the syringe in his hand marked him as either a scientist or a doctor of some sort. Could he be trying to get to the Doctor?
She didn’t have the chance to ask the question before Davies smoothly stepped in front of her, using his body to protect her. “We’re with the bomb squad, sir. You need to evacuate the facility.”
“Bullshit! Security wouldn’t let anyone down here, especially not a bomb squad. You’re not authorised for this floor. You’d better leave before I call security.”
“There’s no need for that,” Davies began.
“Yes, there is! This is completely against protocol. And you! What’re you doing over there? Get away from that door!” She could hear footsteps again, hurrying, and there wasn’t enough time for her to react. Davies tensed, his shoulders bunching underneath the bulky fabric of the protective gear, and moved in a flurry of motion that should’ve been impossible for someone so encumbered. Between one instant and the next, the doctor was on the floor, unconscious.
It took a few more tense minutes before Kowalski announced that he had the door open. She didn’t wait for the others to sweep the room, ignoring Davies shout for her to stop. Instead, she ran inside and skidded to a stop.
She wasn’t certain just what she’d been expecting when she found the Doctor. A reunion hug, perhaps. Or maybe a tease about waiting so long. Whatever it’d been it certainly wasn’t this.
The Doctor’s skin was incredibly pale against the rich metallic sheen of the bands that held him against the table. She could see several cuts and abrasions marring his body and for a moment she was terrified that they were too late. Then he breathed. Shallowly, admittedly, but he was breathing.
“Doctor!” she cried, running to his side and immediately tackling the bonds that held him in place. The locks were stubborn things, resisting her efforts to loosen their tricky bolts. If she had the sonic screwdriver - and, she admitted, knew how to use it - this would be simple. She looked around the room, finally spotting his jacket and jumper rolled together on a small table to the side of the room. Maybe they hadn’t found the sonic screwdriver, but even if she did find it in the Doctor’s myriad pockets she certainly wouldn’t know how to use it. It might be set to some sort of scanning function or something and not do anything to those locks.
“We’ve got five minutes,” Davies announced from the doorway. “Whatever you’re doing, Miss Tyler, hurry up. We don’t have time to waste.” Maybe Davies had something that could help? Something simple. Something that could get them out of this mess with the least amount of time and effort... No. What was she thinking? She’d seen what the soldiers had packed. Heavy-duty metal cutters weren’t the sort of tools a bomb squad would carry with them. Right now, it was far more important to maintain that disguise than anything else.
She growled under her breath as she finally managed to get the bolts to release. She wasn’t careful when she tossed the offending things off him. They clattered against the tiled floor, loud enough to make her wince, but she couldn’t afford to dally. She fully expected the UNIT soldiers to grab her and pull her out of the room if she wasn’t finished within their deadline.
She pulled connectors and leads off the Doctor’s chest, wincing as bits of hair came off with them. Why wasn’t the Doctor moving? He should know she was here. She hadn’t been keeping quiet and removing those connectors must’ve hurt. “Doctor? Can you hear me?” she asked. There were some more connectors against his face and she removed those as well. Once that was finished, she moved the blocks away from his head and it lolled to one side. Almost lifeless. “Doctor? Please...” She cradled his face in her hands, leaning in. “Doctor?”
Still he didn’t move. What had Torchwood done to him?
The desert had no beginning nor ending. It simply was. Strange imagery, to be certain, but it seemed to fit the sort of man he was now after the War. He wandered through the wasteland, every once in a while coming across something he remembered from his past. There a bit of fabric from a long scarf. There a cane. There a question-mark umbrella. All familiar items from his past lives.
Was this what death was like? Wandering through nothingness, seeing glimpses of what used to be and experiencing what was now. He knew what he was getting into when he initiated the trance. He knew that there was a very real possibility that he might not wake up again. But an eternity of this wasn’t his idea of a holiday.
He paused for a moment, frowning. He thought he heard something, but that was impossible. He could be hallucinating. No, that was a rubbish thought. He was a genius. He didn’t hallucinate. Not possible, that.
Doctor? Please, Doctor...
That sounded like Rose. But she couldn’t be here. She was safe and not within Yvonne’s clutches. But if she was here...he couldn’t let her stay undefended. He had to wake up.
He could feel someone’s hands - no, Rose’s hands - on his face. He could sense her worry, fear and anger. The imagery of the desert began to fade as he slowly became aware of his body again.
“Doctor? Please wake up. We don’t have a lot of time.” She was scared and it coloured her words.
He fought against lethargy - an unwelcomed reminder of his time in the trance - trying to force himself completely awake. Rose needed him.
“Miss Tyler,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We’ve got to go.”
“Help me with him,” she said, dropping her hands from his face and he wanted to yell at her to bring them back. He needed her touch to focus. Suddenly someone else was there, easing him upwards, draping his arm...
“”M up,” he murmured, cursing the weakness in his voice.
Rose’s hand returned to his face and he opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of the trance. Her hand both steadied and grounded him and he smiled at her. “Hello.”
“Don’t you ever do that to me again! Got it? Now c’mon. We’ve got to get you up.” A stranger appeared on the other side of him, helping Rose get him into a sitting position. His muscles had practically atrophied in the past - what, day? Two days? Weeks? Rassilon, his own time sense was currently rebelling against him and that never boded well.
“What-“ he started to ask when an alarm started blaring, drowning out both his voice and his thoughts.
The stranger - no, soldier, he realised from the man’s bearing - cursed. “No time. We’ve got to move.”
He stood, swaying slightly even with his companions’ help. “Can’t leave them with...data,” he said, glancing at the equipment that was surrounding the bed.
The soldier reached into his pocket, pulled out a weapon and stepped away from him, leaving him to attempt to balance on his own feet with just Rose’s assistance. Five sharp retorts echoed in the room as the soldier fired at the equipment. “They might be able to restore some of that, sir, but not all of it. It’s the best we can do right now.”
It’d have to do.
“Just a mo’,” Rose suddenly said, ducking out from underneath his arm to run to the other side of the room. When she returned, she was holding a very familiar leather jacket. “No time to get this on,” she told him regretfully. “We’ve got to go.”
They stumbled and shuffled their way out of the room that had been his temporary home for far too long. His muscles ached from disuse and he knew it’d be a while before he was back to himself again. The alarms were louder in the corridor, and echoed ominously when another soldier - apparently waiting outside on guard - led them into a stairwell.
“Stop! That creature is Torchwood property!” someone shouted from behind them.
He was feeling stronger as time went by, but it wasn’t nearly enough to run at his usual pace. His companions tried their best to assist him, but he knew he was slowing them down. It was a matter of trying to determine just who was faster - them or their pursuers. Somehow, they managed to climb four flights, run down a corridor, and enter what looked like the main lobby of an office building before their luck ran out.
They were surrounded.
It was a lure. Had to be. The “security briefing” she’d been invited to was a rehash of last month’s report. They were trying to keep her away from Torchwood. She hurried out of Number Ten and climbed into the waiting vehicle. “Take me back to Canary Wharf,” she ordered.
As her driver headed towards Torchwood One, Yvonne picked up her mobile and called her assistant. After listening to the voicemail message - something that she should never hear at this time of day - she dialled Torchwood’s security forces. This time, she was answered immediately.
“Status,” she snapped.
“There’s been a bomb threat, ma’am. We’ve evacuated-“
“What!” she interrupted. “You idiots. Get someone to sub-basement four immediately. And get a force to the main entrance. Someone’s coming after Torchwood’s property.”
She didn’t wait for the agent to reply and hung up. “Driver, put on the lights.” Once the lights were turned on, the vehicle’s speed increased as much as traffic allowed. They had to get to Canary Wharf. If the Doctor was gone by the time she got there, heads were going to roll.
Captured. Surrounded. Failed. The words echoed in her head with finality. What was she supposed to do? Just give up after they got this far? Just let them take the Doctor again and, what? Kill him? Torture him? Force him into giving them whatever they want? She didn’t even have his sonic screwdriver or the TARDIS.
Strangely, the room grew silent except for the soft clicks of a woman’s shoes against the floor. A tall, blonde woman appeared behind their captors and they moved to the side to let her through. An oily smile appeared on her face as she surveyed them. “Ah, Miss Tyler, I believe? And friends. How lovely to finally have you in my custody.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, blocking the Doctor with her body. “Go to hell,” she snapped. “You’re not taking me or the Doctor again.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, Rose - I may call you, Rose, right? My name is Yvonne Hartmann, and this -“ She held out her hands. “-is my facility. You’re now in my custody and attempting to take Torchwood property isn’t something I can simply overlook.”
“Torchwood property? The Doctor is no-one’s property,” she snarled. Useless posturing, perhaps, but she’d be damned before she just let this woman get her hands on the Doctor again.
“He’s an alien, which makes him ours,” Yvonne replied, still smiling. “And you, my dear child, are his companion and a wonderful bargaining chip. I do so look forward to our future discussions. Men -“
“Stand down,” a familiar voice ordered. “Miss Hartmann, you have overstepped your bounds by arresting the Doctor. I’m glad that Sir Alistair saw fit to contact me about this.”
Yvonne spun in place, facing someone who looked like - Harriet Jones? And the Brigadier? “Torchwood’s charter states that -“ Hartmann began.
“You are not above the law, Miss Hartmann,” the Brigadier stated. “And kidnapping a hero of this nation is against the law, as is detaining Miss Tyler. You will release the Doctor, Miss Tyler, my men and the TARDIS into UNIT custody.”
“UNIT! You’re pathetic. You couldn’t protect this nation from anything, especially not from the danger represented by the Doctor. And you, Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart are a has been. Go back to your country estate and tend to your garden. You do not belong here,” Yvonne scoffed.
“When it comes to my friends, I go exactly where I am needed,” the Brigadier replied. “Do you yield?”
“I’d advise you to consider your next words very carefully, Miss Hartmann,” Harriet added, her voice incredibly cold. “Torchwood is not above this government.”
“Yes, we are,” Yvonne replied. “Torchwood answers to the Crown, not mere temporary elected representatives.” Scorn practically dripped from the last two words.
“In 1969 that charter was re-worded, Miss Hartmann, as you well know. You are not above the government and you certainly are not above me. Your men will stand down immediately and you will return the TARDIS to the Doctor’s possession. Do I make myself clear?”
“I won’t forget this, Prime Minister,” Yvonne snarled.
“Good. See that you don’t. Sir Alistair, if you would?” Harriet replied.
“Of course, ma’am,” the Brigadier said and, just like that, it was over.
“...then the Brigadier turns up and sends those ruffians off to who knows where,” Jackie said as she bustled around the table, filling mugs and adding more biscuits to their plates. “He’s a hero, he is. Unlike himself over there...gettin’ himself captured like that.”
“Wasn’t my fault, thanks,” he retorted. It was bad enough that he’d agreed to come back here and suffer through tea with Jackie Tyler, but he hadn’t come here to get insulted. He shifted in the chair and tried his best not to glance at the clock. He should be able to convince Rose that they needed to leave, but he did owe her.
She had saved him. Brilliantly, actually. He’d been kidnapped and she could’ve just let him be. She could’ve said nothing, tried nothing. She could’ve been taken by Torchwood, but she hadn’t been. Instead, she’d got herself to UNIT, found the Brigadier, and, with help, rescued him. Yes, there’d been a bit of a hitch in those plans when they’d been stopped by the Torchwood guards, but that had been sorted by both the Prime Minister and the Brigadier.
His old friend seemed a bit out of place here, in the dining area of a Council Estate flat, but the Doctor knew that Alistair didn’t mind. The Brigadier selected a biscuit and smiled. “Please, Mrs Tyler, call me Alistair.” He took a bite of the biscuit and, once he swallowed the morsel, he said, “I shouldn’t be having any more of these. Doris is always after me to watch my weight.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Alistair,” Jackie replied gallantly. He’d swear that the woman was actually flirting with the Brigadier, but that thought was far too frightening to even consider about for long.
“I wanted to thank you, Brigadier,” Rose said quietly, thankfully interrupting her mother before she went off about something completely unimportant. “Without you, I never would’ve been able to rescue the Doctor.”
“Nonsense, Miss Tyler,” the Brigadier replied. “I am certain you would have found some way to rescue him. You strike me as a rather resourceful young woman. I am only glad that I was able to help.” He finished the biscuit, brushed his fingers off against a napkin and stood. “Now, it’s time for me to get back to Doris. Thank you for the tea, Mrs Tyler. You will all have to join myself and Doris for tea, too. I’ll send you a missive, Mrs Tyler. And, Doctor, do not attempt to bring the TARDIS with you!”
He blinked. “Why not?”
Alistair gave him a look that was a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “Because my rhododendrons still haven’t grown back from the last time you visited!”
“Ah.” He’d forgotten about that. Admittedly, he didn’t remember much about that time. Between the aftermath of the War and regeneration sickness, it was understandable. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good man. And don’t wait too long before you visit me again, Doctor. Miss Tyler, Mrs Tyler.” Jackie led the Brigadier to the door and, when she was out of the room, the Doctor directed his attention to Rose.
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you, Rose,” he said.
“What for?”
“For saving me,” he replied, standing up and crossing to her side of the table. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and whispered, “But I need you to save me again...from your mother.”
She laughed lightly and grabbed his hand, using it as leverage to stand herself. “Think I can help with that,” she replied.
“So I was thinking-“ Jackie began to say as she walked back into the room.
He and Rose met each other’s gazes and grinned, shouting simultaneously, “Run!”
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, time_and_chips, hearts_in_time
Author: Gillian Taylor (dark_aegis)
Characters: Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor, Jackie Tyler, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Yvonne Hartmann
Spoilers: Dalek
Rated: All Ages
Disclaimer: Not mine by any stretch of the imagination. I'm just having fun with them
Summary: "Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor. We've been waiting for you."
Author's Notes: First fic in months! This is rather exciting. Work's calmed down a bit, so I can write again. Anyway. Thanks, as always, to the ever brilliant wendymr for her BRing assistance. And with this chapter, we've gone into AU territory.
Chapter 1: Missing | Chapter 2: The Chase
Chapter 3: Rescue
The Brigadier studied the plans on the monitor, wishing not for the first time that he had remembered to bring his glasses from home prior to coming to London. One Canary Square was far too public a place for a full frontal assault. He couldn’t afford to get any civilians caught in the crossfire. Of all Torchwood’s properties in the London area, it made sense that this would be where Yvonne Hartmann would keep her prize. It was the heart of her little kingdom.
He would love to destroy that place; remove every trace of it from the collective consciousness until nothing remained. He certainly didn’t care for their strong-arm tactics or their complete disregard for standard operating procedures. How could UNIT breach it, though? He had to give them credit for being a paranoid lot. They would be suspicious of their own mothers if it came to it.
Ah, yes. Canary Wharf. Lots of people tended to frequent that area. If, say, there was a bomb scare and they called for mandatory evacuations...
He rested his hand against his chin. It could work. Force them to evacuate and bring in his soldiers as bomb squad members. A floor-by-floor search would help. His contact in Cardiff had stated that the Doctor most likely could be found in one of the basement level holding rooms. Torchwood had alien technology, though. They could probably locate any bombs in their own facility far more easily than any conventional bomb squad. But what if there was a way to neutralise their technology?
Alistair tapped a finger against his jaw. Miss Smith would probably be willing to use her computer for this. He could also contact the Prime Minister, drop a few hints about what was going on, ask her to invite Yvonne Hartmann to Downing Street for something or other. That would get the one person who would most likely try to keep her prize safe out of the way. When the bomb threat was called in, without Yvonne present, Torchwood would be far more likely to comply with a mandatory evacuation order.
A feral smile crossed his face as he looked up from the computer. His smile disappeared the instant he looked at Miss Tyler. She looked anxious, fidgeting in her seat as she watched him intently. “How’re we going to rescue the Doctor?” she asked.
“With a little subterfuge,” he replied and began to tell her his plan.
The headset made a satisfying crunch as it was forced into its receiver. Yvonne would much rather toss the damned thing off her desk, but it wouldn’t do to give into her anger. The blinds were open. Her people could see her at any time they liked. It didn’t present the sort of image she liked to nurture about herself if she went about destroying office equipment.
Still. It was ridiculous to receive two calls of that particular calibre one after the other in the same day. There’d been something of an emergency in the holding cells thanks to her incompetent technician giving the Doctor something that sent him into cardiac arrest. Thankfully, that same technician was able to reverse the effects and keep the Time Lord alive. Her fingers curled into fists as she considered just what she should do with that technician. It would be unacceptable to lose the Doctor now.
Yes, she had his blue box, but without the Doctor it meant little. She couldn’t open it. None of her people could. Nor could they make the damned man wake up. Incompetence. She was surrounded by it. And now the Prime Minister wanted her to come to some ridiculous national security meeting. The timing couldn’t be worse.
She had no choice. If she wanted to maintain the favour of the prime minister, she had to obey the summons. The Doctor and his ship would keep. She sighed and picked up the phone, pressing the button that would summon her assistant. “Have the car brought around, Janet.”
“Yes, Miss Hartmann,” Janet said. She was a good assistant. Didn’t ask questions. Just did what needed to be done.
A pity more of her people weren’t like that. Then again, that would put her little kingdom at risk. She hung up the phone again and stood. The sooner she met with Harriet Jones, the sooner she could return to the Doctor and his ship.
She had plans for them both. Plans that involved all of time, space and everything in between.
Canary Wharf loomed over her, its shadow blocking the sunlight. She’d never thought this place was evil before. It’d simply been another office building in a city full of them. Now that she knew what its deceptive exterior hid, she could truthfully say it was menacing. And somewhere inside it the Doctor was being held captive.
She looked away from the view to her companions. Major Griffith wasn’t pleased that she was with them, but between her own stubbornness and the Brigadier’s unexpected assistance he couldn’t stop her. She was a part of this, regardless of how the military might frown upon it.
Rose shrugged on the bulky protective gear, wishing that she didn’t have to wear it. It was part of the plan, though. They couldn’t risk having someone recognise her when they walked into Canary Wharf. She was to be just another member of the bomb squad.
“Our sources indicate that the Doctor will be in the basement holding areas,” Major Griffith told her. “You, Davies and Kowalski will go directly there once we get inside. You will obey their orders. If they tell you to run, you’ll run. No heroics. You will have fifteen minutes to find him and get him out.”
She didn’t like it. Fifteen minutes wasn’t a long time. How could they be certain they’d find the right room? No. She couldn’t think like that. They would find the Doctor within the allotted time. And if her companions told her to run, well, she wouldn’t do it. She wasn’t leaving this place without the Doctor. “Got it.”
Griffith eyed her for a moment before he nodded curtly. Something beeped and the other soldiers snapped to attention. “That’s our signal,” Griffith said and hurried towards the building, followed closely by his men and her.
The bomb threat was, thankfully, being taken seriously. People were starting to hurry out of the building as they reached the front doors. Several employees - Torchwood and otherwise - paused and looked at them with frightened, but trusting eyes. It made her feel a bit guilty that they really weren’t there to save them.
No. She just had to remember the Doctor, and what had happened to her. Didn’t mean all of them were bad, of course, just... She sighed. She couldn’t even complete that thought without feeling bad. There were only a few people who deserved her anger. Not this lot full of accountants and secretaries and whatever else they might be. They were office workers. Couldn’t be expected to know everything that was going on around them. Most of them probably didn’t even work for Torchwood - or, if they did, didn’t realise it. She seriously doubted Yvonne Hartmann would’ve told all her employees that she was holding the Doctor. In all likelihood about half these people wouldn’t even know they were working for Torchwood.
At least they were out of the way. This was where things would start to get dangerous. Rose followed her assigned guards towards the doorway on the left. Griffith intercepted the security guard at the desk and introduced himself as the officer in charge of the bomb squad. Doors were opened, security was lax, and she could see the panic in the faces of the people who pushed past them to get to the doors. They were inside moments later and she couldn’t hear what Griffith was saying any more.
“This way,” Davies said, turning to the right and hurrying down the hallway. There were fewer people this direction. Thankfully, the bomb threat had kept most of the attention away from any strange people who might or might not be roaming about classified areas.
They found a stairwell and took it downwards. She was actually rather surprised by how many floors there were underneath Canary Wharf. It was only when they got to the fourth sub-basement that they left the stairwell. This time, Kowalski took the lead, taking them past several doorways before stopping at one that had a thick metal door. She wasn’t certain how the bloke knew this was the right room, but perhaps the Brigadier’s mysterious source had something to do with it. Regardless, there had to be some way inside. There wasn’t a handy window that she could peer through to see if the Doctor was inside, either.
Only way to know for certain would be to open it. Kowalski pulled something out from one of the myriad pockets that covered the protective clothing. She couldn’t see what he was doing from her current position. Most of his actions were hidden by the bulk of his clothing.
“Oi! This is a secure facility! You can’t be in here!” a man cried, startling her. She hadn’t even noticed him earlier. She’d thought they were alone. She turned quickly, rather surprised to find that the man was barely a few years older than herself. His white lab coat and the syringe in his hand marked him as either a scientist or a doctor of some sort. Could he be trying to get to the Doctor?
She didn’t have the chance to ask the question before Davies smoothly stepped in front of her, using his body to protect her. “We’re with the bomb squad, sir. You need to evacuate the facility.”
“Bullshit! Security wouldn’t let anyone down here, especially not a bomb squad. You’re not authorised for this floor. You’d better leave before I call security.”
“There’s no need for that,” Davies began.
“Yes, there is! This is completely against protocol. And you! What’re you doing over there? Get away from that door!” She could hear footsteps again, hurrying, and there wasn’t enough time for her to react. Davies tensed, his shoulders bunching underneath the bulky fabric of the protective gear, and moved in a flurry of motion that should’ve been impossible for someone so encumbered. Between one instant and the next, the doctor was on the floor, unconscious.
It took a few more tense minutes before Kowalski announced that he had the door open. She didn’t wait for the others to sweep the room, ignoring Davies shout for her to stop. Instead, she ran inside and skidded to a stop.
She wasn’t certain just what she’d been expecting when she found the Doctor. A reunion hug, perhaps. Or maybe a tease about waiting so long. Whatever it’d been it certainly wasn’t this.
The Doctor’s skin was incredibly pale against the rich metallic sheen of the bands that held him against the table. She could see several cuts and abrasions marring his body and for a moment she was terrified that they were too late. Then he breathed. Shallowly, admittedly, but he was breathing.
“Doctor!” she cried, running to his side and immediately tackling the bonds that held him in place. The locks were stubborn things, resisting her efforts to loosen their tricky bolts. If she had the sonic screwdriver - and, she admitted, knew how to use it - this would be simple. She looked around the room, finally spotting his jacket and jumper rolled together on a small table to the side of the room. Maybe they hadn’t found the sonic screwdriver, but even if she did find it in the Doctor’s myriad pockets she certainly wouldn’t know how to use it. It might be set to some sort of scanning function or something and not do anything to those locks.
“We’ve got five minutes,” Davies announced from the doorway. “Whatever you’re doing, Miss Tyler, hurry up. We don’t have time to waste.” Maybe Davies had something that could help? Something simple. Something that could get them out of this mess with the least amount of time and effort... No. What was she thinking? She’d seen what the soldiers had packed. Heavy-duty metal cutters weren’t the sort of tools a bomb squad would carry with them. Right now, it was far more important to maintain that disguise than anything else.
She growled under her breath as she finally managed to get the bolts to release. She wasn’t careful when she tossed the offending things off him. They clattered against the tiled floor, loud enough to make her wince, but she couldn’t afford to dally. She fully expected the UNIT soldiers to grab her and pull her out of the room if she wasn’t finished within their deadline.
She pulled connectors and leads off the Doctor’s chest, wincing as bits of hair came off with them. Why wasn’t the Doctor moving? He should know she was here. She hadn’t been keeping quiet and removing those connectors must’ve hurt. “Doctor? Can you hear me?” she asked. There were some more connectors against his face and she removed those as well. Once that was finished, she moved the blocks away from his head and it lolled to one side. Almost lifeless. “Doctor? Please...” She cradled his face in her hands, leaning in. “Doctor?”
Still he didn’t move. What had Torchwood done to him?
The desert had no beginning nor ending. It simply was. Strange imagery, to be certain, but it seemed to fit the sort of man he was now after the War. He wandered through the wasteland, every once in a while coming across something he remembered from his past. There a bit of fabric from a long scarf. There a cane. There a question-mark umbrella. All familiar items from his past lives.
Was this what death was like? Wandering through nothingness, seeing glimpses of what used to be and experiencing what was now. He knew what he was getting into when he initiated the trance. He knew that there was a very real possibility that he might not wake up again. But an eternity of this wasn’t his idea of a holiday.
He paused for a moment, frowning. He thought he heard something, but that was impossible. He could be hallucinating. No, that was a rubbish thought. He was a genius. He didn’t hallucinate. Not possible, that.
Doctor? Please, Doctor...
That sounded like Rose. But she couldn’t be here. She was safe and not within Yvonne’s clutches. But if she was here...he couldn’t let her stay undefended. He had to wake up.
He could feel someone’s hands - no, Rose’s hands - on his face. He could sense her worry, fear and anger. The imagery of the desert began to fade as he slowly became aware of his body again.
“Doctor? Please wake up. We don’t have a lot of time.” She was scared and it coloured her words.
He fought against lethargy - an unwelcomed reminder of his time in the trance - trying to force himself completely awake. Rose needed him.
“Miss Tyler,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We’ve got to go.”
“Help me with him,” she said, dropping her hands from his face and he wanted to yell at her to bring them back. He needed her touch to focus. Suddenly someone else was there, easing him upwards, draping his arm...
“”M up,” he murmured, cursing the weakness in his voice.
Rose’s hand returned to his face and he opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of the trance. Her hand both steadied and grounded him and he smiled at her. “Hello.”
“Don’t you ever do that to me again! Got it? Now c’mon. We’ve got to get you up.” A stranger appeared on the other side of him, helping Rose get him into a sitting position. His muscles had practically atrophied in the past - what, day? Two days? Weeks? Rassilon, his own time sense was currently rebelling against him and that never boded well.
“What-“ he started to ask when an alarm started blaring, drowning out both his voice and his thoughts.
The stranger - no, soldier, he realised from the man’s bearing - cursed. “No time. We’ve got to move.”
He stood, swaying slightly even with his companions’ help. “Can’t leave them with...data,” he said, glancing at the equipment that was surrounding the bed.
The soldier reached into his pocket, pulled out a weapon and stepped away from him, leaving him to attempt to balance on his own feet with just Rose’s assistance. Five sharp retorts echoed in the room as the soldier fired at the equipment. “They might be able to restore some of that, sir, but not all of it. It’s the best we can do right now.”
It’d have to do.
“Just a mo’,” Rose suddenly said, ducking out from underneath his arm to run to the other side of the room. When she returned, she was holding a very familiar leather jacket. “No time to get this on,” she told him regretfully. “We’ve got to go.”
They stumbled and shuffled their way out of the room that had been his temporary home for far too long. His muscles ached from disuse and he knew it’d be a while before he was back to himself again. The alarms were louder in the corridor, and echoed ominously when another soldier - apparently waiting outside on guard - led them into a stairwell.
“Stop! That creature is Torchwood property!” someone shouted from behind them.
He was feeling stronger as time went by, but it wasn’t nearly enough to run at his usual pace. His companions tried their best to assist him, but he knew he was slowing them down. It was a matter of trying to determine just who was faster - them or their pursuers. Somehow, they managed to climb four flights, run down a corridor, and enter what looked like the main lobby of an office building before their luck ran out.
They were surrounded.
It was a lure. Had to be. The “security briefing” she’d been invited to was a rehash of last month’s report. They were trying to keep her away from Torchwood. She hurried out of Number Ten and climbed into the waiting vehicle. “Take me back to Canary Wharf,” she ordered.
As her driver headed towards Torchwood One, Yvonne picked up her mobile and called her assistant. After listening to the voicemail message - something that she should never hear at this time of day - she dialled Torchwood’s security forces. This time, she was answered immediately.
“Status,” she snapped.
“There’s been a bomb threat, ma’am. We’ve evacuated-“
“What!” she interrupted. “You idiots. Get someone to sub-basement four immediately. And get a force to the main entrance. Someone’s coming after Torchwood’s property.”
She didn’t wait for the agent to reply and hung up. “Driver, put on the lights.” Once the lights were turned on, the vehicle’s speed increased as much as traffic allowed. They had to get to Canary Wharf. If the Doctor was gone by the time she got there, heads were going to roll.
Captured. Surrounded. Failed. The words echoed in her head with finality. What was she supposed to do? Just give up after they got this far? Just let them take the Doctor again and, what? Kill him? Torture him? Force him into giving them whatever they want? She didn’t even have his sonic screwdriver or the TARDIS.
Strangely, the room grew silent except for the soft clicks of a woman’s shoes against the floor. A tall, blonde woman appeared behind their captors and they moved to the side to let her through. An oily smile appeared on her face as she surveyed them. “Ah, Miss Tyler, I believe? And friends. How lovely to finally have you in my custody.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, blocking the Doctor with her body. “Go to hell,” she snapped. “You’re not taking me or the Doctor again.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, Rose - I may call you, Rose, right? My name is Yvonne Hartmann, and this -“ She held out her hands. “-is my facility. You’re now in my custody and attempting to take Torchwood property isn’t something I can simply overlook.”
“Torchwood property? The Doctor is no-one’s property,” she snarled. Useless posturing, perhaps, but she’d be damned before she just let this woman get her hands on the Doctor again.
“He’s an alien, which makes him ours,” Yvonne replied, still smiling. “And you, my dear child, are his companion and a wonderful bargaining chip. I do so look forward to our future discussions. Men -“
“Stand down,” a familiar voice ordered. “Miss Hartmann, you have overstepped your bounds by arresting the Doctor. I’m glad that Sir Alistair saw fit to contact me about this.”
Yvonne spun in place, facing someone who looked like - Harriet Jones? And the Brigadier? “Torchwood’s charter states that -“ Hartmann began.
“You are not above the law, Miss Hartmann,” the Brigadier stated. “And kidnapping a hero of this nation is against the law, as is detaining Miss Tyler. You will release the Doctor, Miss Tyler, my men and the TARDIS into UNIT custody.”
“UNIT! You’re pathetic. You couldn’t protect this nation from anything, especially not from the danger represented by the Doctor. And you, Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart are a has been. Go back to your country estate and tend to your garden. You do not belong here,” Yvonne scoffed.
“When it comes to my friends, I go exactly where I am needed,” the Brigadier replied. “Do you yield?”
“I’d advise you to consider your next words very carefully, Miss Hartmann,” Harriet added, her voice incredibly cold. “Torchwood is not above this government.”
“Yes, we are,” Yvonne replied. “Torchwood answers to the Crown, not mere temporary elected representatives.” Scorn practically dripped from the last two words.
“In 1969 that charter was re-worded, Miss Hartmann, as you well know. You are not above the government and you certainly are not above me. Your men will stand down immediately and you will return the TARDIS to the Doctor’s possession. Do I make myself clear?”
“I won’t forget this, Prime Minister,” Yvonne snarled.
“Good. See that you don’t. Sir Alistair, if you would?” Harriet replied.
“Of course, ma’am,” the Brigadier said and, just like that, it was over.
“...then the Brigadier turns up and sends those ruffians off to who knows where,” Jackie said as she bustled around the table, filling mugs and adding more biscuits to their plates. “He’s a hero, he is. Unlike himself over there...gettin’ himself captured like that.”
“Wasn’t my fault, thanks,” he retorted. It was bad enough that he’d agreed to come back here and suffer through tea with Jackie Tyler, but he hadn’t come here to get insulted. He shifted in the chair and tried his best not to glance at the clock. He should be able to convince Rose that they needed to leave, but he did owe her.
She had saved him. Brilliantly, actually. He’d been kidnapped and she could’ve just let him be. She could’ve said nothing, tried nothing. She could’ve been taken by Torchwood, but she hadn’t been. Instead, she’d got herself to UNIT, found the Brigadier, and, with help, rescued him. Yes, there’d been a bit of a hitch in those plans when they’d been stopped by the Torchwood guards, but that had been sorted by both the Prime Minister and the Brigadier.
His old friend seemed a bit out of place here, in the dining area of a Council Estate flat, but the Doctor knew that Alistair didn’t mind. The Brigadier selected a biscuit and smiled. “Please, Mrs Tyler, call me Alistair.” He took a bite of the biscuit and, once he swallowed the morsel, he said, “I shouldn’t be having any more of these. Doris is always after me to watch my weight.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Alistair,” Jackie replied gallantly. He’d swear that the woman was actually flirting with the Brigadier, but that thought was far too frightening to even consider about for long.
“I wanted to thank you, Brigadier,” Rose said quietly, thankfully interrupting her mother before she went off about something completely unimportant. “Without you, I never would’ve been able to rescue the Doctor.”
“Nonsense, Miss Tyler,” the Brigadier replied. “I am certain you would have found some way to rescue him. You strike me as a rather resourceful young woman. I am only glad that I was able to help.” He finished the biscuit, brushed his fingers off against a napkin and stood. “Now, it’s time for me to get back to Doris. Thank you for the tea, Mrs Tyler. You will all have to join myself and Doris for tea, too. I’ll send you a missive, Mrs Tyler. And, Doctor, do not attempt to bring the TARDIS with you!”
He blinked. “Why not?”
Alistair gave him a look that was a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “Because my rhododendrons still haven’t grown back from the last time you visited!”
“Ah.” He’d forgotten about that. Admittedly, he didn’t remember much about that time. Between the aftermath of the War and regeneration sickness, it was understandable. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good man. And don’t wait too long before you visit me again, Doctor. Miss Tyler, Mrs Tyler.” Jackie led the Brigadier to the door and, when she was out of the room, the Doctor directed his attention to Rose.
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you, Rose,” he said.
“What for?”
“For saving me,” he replied, standing up and crossing to her side of the table. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and whispered, “But I need you to save me again...from your mother.”
She laughed lightly and grabbed his hand, using it as leverage to stand herself. “Think I can help with that,” she replied.
“So I was thinking-“ Jackie began to say as she walked back into the room.
He and Rose met each other’s gazes and grinned, shouting simultaneously, “Run!”
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, time_and_chips, hearts_in_time