⇦:Your muse has been missing, presumably dead, for over a month, then shows up at my muse’s door.
multiversebleed Tenth Doctor
[[This is potentially crap because I didn’t paper it first, I just freehanded it]]
The Doctor was getting just a bit cross at his trusty TARDIS because she was currently refusing to land where he was asking her to. He hadn’t visited Kimber Mac in a while and thought he’d see how she was adjusting to her time back from SHEILD training.
“Look, Ol’ Girl, it’s not like I’m askin you ta land on Skaro or Spirodon! Westminster is hardly hostile territory.” She made what could be interpreted as a rude noise and slipped sideways in the Vortex, throwing the Doctor into the coral column. Setting his face and straightening his jacket he started toward the console. “Right then.” He began a flurry of flipping switches, twisting nobs, pulling levers and percussive maintenance with the mallet before she finally surrendered and came to a stroppy thump in an untended back garden in Westminster.
Grabbing his coat, the Doctor charged purposely down the ramp mumbling about stubborn old females and blew through the doors, expecting to see the usual furniture and lights and flower beds. What actually met his eyes was almost exactly the opposite. Unruly grass, weed infested flowers and stacks of letters on the floor inside the back glass door.
The sonic made quick work of the lock and he sifted through the dates on the post. They went back a month or more, unsorted, unopened, unanswered. Clutter in an otherwise meticulously uncluttered environment. Locking the door behind him he sprinted back to the TARDIS gabbling as he set a new course. “Ok, yes, you were tryin to tell me somethin and I wasn’t listening. I see now that it’s my fault and I profusely apologize. What we need to do is back track and find where things went pear shaped.”
The TARDIS landed on the pavement at UNIT HQ and the Doctor stormed through the Staff Only doors before an escort could be assembled. Martha had heard the materialization and ran as fast as she could to intercept the Doctor before alarms went off. She hadn’t been positive he would show up, and didn’t know how much he knew, but she knew the look on his face well enough to know he was going to find out.
Slowing to a stop in front of him she met his eyes, allowing him to recognize her and stop to hear what she had to say.
“Doctah. What brings you here?” she tried to smile, but saw the hardening of his face and knew that wasn’t going anywhere.
“Can we go in”
“I want to see her lab.” He cut her off, knowing she was trying to de-escalate him and wanting none of it.
Martha looked down and took a deep breath. Looking up she assumed the detached professional persona she hoped would help.
“It’s on lockdown. No one’s allowed in yet. We’re still trying to find out how she was taken.”
“Who has her? Where is she?”
Seeing that he was getting agitated, she laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, Doctah. Let’s get a cuppa and I’ll tell you all we know.”
He didn’t sit at the conference table, he circled it. Picking up and putting down knick knacks and trying to process what Martha was telling him.
“She was doin some Tech Boffin stuff for SHEILD working jointly with STRIKE. There’s a small country called Latveria that’s run by a dictator named Victor Von Doom. Sounds like a right nutter from what I’ve heard.” She noted that he paused in his circuit of the room for a moment then continued. “About a month ago, she was in her lab workin as normal when an Energy Infiltration Warning went off and her embedded tracker cut out.” Martha sighed. “We lost her position, but her psy-link was still functional so we knew she was alive somewhere.”
The Doctor stopped and stood at the credenza, back to her and said. “When did the link go dead?”
“The next day. A group of SHEILD agents and costumed blokes came in and met with the Missus upstairs and STRIKE. They all agreed it was this Von Doom bloke who took her, but they were having a full out barney about how to get her back.
A week later we got a package with her tracker chip…and the excised flesh around it. I examined it and it had been removed post mortem.”
The Doctor stood silent for what seemed an endless time, then exploded in a fit of knick knack smashing rage. Martha let it run its course, then went to put her hand on his shoulder. He turned with his face so tight his eyes moist and hard. He looked down at his companion, his friend and breathed in the pain he was fighting to keep out. Martha slowly and gently pulled him into a hug and he allowed it.
Soon she stepped back to look at his still dry face.
“If you want, I’ll call you when we open her lab.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together and sniffing determinedly.
“Yeah. I’m just gonna go check on some things.” He indicated the direction of the pavement where the TARDIS waited for him. Throwing his coat on the coral he loosed the parking brake and plowed into the Vortex. He threw himself onto the bench and plopped his trainers on the console. Storm clouds roiled in his brain.
“Can you feel her?” He asked, looking up at the time rotor. The greenish-blue light dimmed and he nodded. “Me either.” He popped up again and headed back to the back garden. He refused to let her flat be left in that condition. She’d throw a right strop when she got… He shook his head as the TARDIS gently landed.
The Doctor pulled the scanner around, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t see the disused, deserted, empty garden this time. It was still there. He realized he just didn’t have it in him to go out there yet. It would be real. It would be final. He sat back on the bench, crossed his arms and frowned at the scanner as if that alone would change it.
The sun was setting and lights were coming on down by the river. A light breeze made the hanging garden chair slightly sway. He’d almost made up his mind to go out when the interior lights started flashing and the Cloister Bell started to clang. The next words out of his mouth were ones the TARDIS refused to interpret as he leapt to the console. But almost as soon as it started it was gone. The Doctor pulled up a floor panel and crawled halfway in to check a sensor connection and almost missed the light knocking on the outside door.
He stopped working still with half his tall, thin frame in the undercarriage of the console room. Knock, knock.
Clambering out of the crawlspace he grabbed the scanner to look, but there was nothing there. Knock, knock. It was getting fainter. He slowly approached the door, gently reaching to open it. Nothing in front of him, but he felt something hit his trainer and looked down. What looked to be a bundle of washing with dull red curls lay at his feet, an emaciated hand sticking out, resting on his foot.
He kneeled down and took her pulse, then tenderly pushed the hair away to find her face. It was a sickly, pasty white showing her freckles in shocking relief. He still felt no emanations from her so he brushed her temple ever so slightly. Her eyes opened wide and looked up at him. She was locked inside her shields so tightly she was now fighting to get out; her eyes grasped his like a lifeline. He gently laid his fingers on her face and slowly she began to breathe; shuddering, gasping breaths.
A weak grin pulled at her lips, and she relaxed into his hand. “Not dead.” She croaked through parched throat and cracked lips.
The Doctor chuckled and scooped her up. “Yup. Noticed that.” He soniced the door and took her into her flat. “Martha’s gonna want to poke you with needles for a year after this one, young lady.” He laid her down on her bed, called Martha and told her the news, then went back to slide onto the bed next to her, propped up on pillows letting the tears flow free.
[[This is potentially crap because I didn’t paper it first, I just freehanded it]]
The Doctor was getting just a bit cross at his trusty TARDIS because she was currently refusing to land where he was asking her to. He hadn’t visited Kimber Mac in a while and thought he’d see how she was adjusting to her time back from SHEILD training.
“Look, Ol’ Girl, it’s not like I’m askin you ta land on Skaro or Spirodon! Westminster is hardly hostile territory.” She made what could be interpreted as a rude noise and slipped sideways in the Vortex, throwing the Doctor into the coral column. Setting his face and straightening his jacket he started toward the console. “Right then.” He began a flurry of flipping switches, twisting nobs, pulling levers and percussive maintenance with the mallet before she finally surrendered and came to a stroppy thump in an untended back garden in Westminster.
Grabbing his coat, the Doctor charged purposely down the ramp mumbling about stubborn old females and blew through the doors, expecting to see the usual furniture and lights and flower beds. What actually met his eyes was almost exactly the opposite. Unruly grass, weed infested flowers and stacks of letters on the floor inside the back glass door.
The sonic made quick work of the lock and he sifted through the dates on the post. They went back a month or more, unsorted, unopened, unanswered. Clutter in an otherwise meticulously uncluttered environment. Locking the door behind him he sprinted back to the TARDIS gabbling as he set a new course. “Ok, yes, you were tryin to tell me somethin and I wasn’t listening. I see now that it’s my fault and I profusely apologize. What we need to do is back track and find where things went pear shaped.”
The TARDIS landed on the pavement at UNIT HQ and the Doctor stormed through the Staff Only doors before an escort could be assembled. Martha had heard the materialization and ran as fast as she could to intercept the Doctor before alarms went off. She hadn’t been positive he would show up, and didn’t know how much he knew, but she knew the look on his face well enough to know he was going to find out.
Slowing to a stop in front of him she met his eyes, allowing him to recognize her and stop to hear what she had to say.
“Doctah. What brings you here?” she tried to smile, but saw the hardening of his face and knew that wasn’t going anywhere.
“Can we go in”
“I want to see her lab.” He cut her off, knowing she was trying to de-escalate him and wanting none of it.
Martha looked down and took a deep breath. Looking up she assumed the detached professional persona she hoped would help.
“It’s on lockdown. No one’s allowed in yet. We’re still trying to find out how she was taken.”
“Who has her? Where is she?”
Seeing that he was getting agitated, she laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, Doctah. Let’s get a cuppa and I’ll tell you all we know.”
He didn’t sit at the conference table, he circled it. Picking up and putting down knick knacks and trying to process what Martha was telling him.
“She was doin some Tech Boffin stuff for SHEILD working jointly with STRIKE. There’s a small country called Latveria that’s run by a dictator named Victor Von Doom. Sounds like a right nutter from what I’ve heard.” She noted that he paused in his circuit of the room for a moment then continued. “About a month ago, she was in her lab workin as normal when an Energy Infiltration Warning went off and her embedded tracker cut out.” Martha sighed. “We lost her position, but her psy-link was still functional so we knew she was alive somewhere.”
The Doctor stopped and stood at the credenza, back to her and said. “When did the link go dead?”
“The next day. A group of SHEILD agents and costumed blokes came in and met with the Missus upstairs and STRIKE. They all agreed it was this Von Doom bloke who took her, but they were having a full out barney about how to get her back.
A week later we got a package with her tracker chip…and the excised flesh around it. I examined it and it had been removed post mortem.”
The Doctor stood silent for what seemed an endless time, then exploded in a fit of knick knack smashing rage. Martha let it run its course, then went to put her hand on his shoulder. He turned with his face so tight his eyes moist and hard. He looked down at his companion, his friend and breathed in the pain he was fighting to keep out. Martha slowly and gently pulled him into a hug and he allowed it.
Soon she stepped back to look at his still dry face.
“If you want, I’ll call you when we open her lab.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together and sniffing determinedly.
“Yeah. I’m just gonna go check on some things.” He indicated the direction of the pavement where the TARDIS waited for him. Throwing his coat on the coral he loosed the parking brake and plowed into the Vortex. He threw himself onto the bench and plopped his trainers on the console. Storm clouds roiled in his brain.
“Can you feel her?” He asked, looking up at the time rotor. The greenish-blue light dimmed and he nodded. “Me either.” He popped up again and headed back to the back garden. He refused to let her flat be left in that condition. She’d throw a right strop when she got… He shook his head as the TARDIS gently landed.
The Doctor pulled the scanner around, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t see the disused, deserted, empty garden this time. It was still there. He realized he just didn’t have it in him to go out there yet. It would be real. It would be final. He sat back on the bench, crossed his arms and frowned at the scanner as if that alone would change it.
The sun was setting and lights were coming on down by the river. A light breeze made the hanging garden chair slightly sway. He’d almost made up his mind to go out when the interior lights started flashing and the Cloister Bell started to clang. The next words out of his mouth were ones the TARDIS refused to interpret as he leapt to the console. But almost as soon as it started it was gone. The Doctor pulled up a floor panel and crawled halfway in to check a sensor connection and almost missed the light knocking on the outside door.
He stopped working still with half his tall, thin frame in the undercarriage of the console room. Knock, knock.
Clambering out of the crawlspace he grabbed the scanner to look, but there was nothing there. Knock, knock. It was getting fainter. He slowly approached the door, gently reaching to open it. Nothing in front of him, but he felt something hit his trainer and looked down. What looked to be a bundle of washing with dull red curls lay at his feet, an emaciated hand sticking out, resting on his foot.
He kneeled down and took her pulse, then tenderly pushed the hair away to find her face. It was a sickly, pasty white showing her freckles in shocking relief. He still felt no emanations from her so he brushed her temple ever so slightly. Her eyes opened wide and looked up at him. She was locked inside her shields so tightly she was now fighting to get out; her eyes grasped his like a lifeline. He gently laid his fingers on her face and slowly she began to breathe; shuddering, gasping breaths.
A weak grin pulled at her lips, and she relaxed into his hand. “Not dead.” She croaked through parched throat and cracked lips.
The Doctor chuckled and scooped her up. “Yup. Noticed that.” He soniced the door and took her into her flat. “Martha’s gonna want to poke you with needles for a year after this one, young lady.” He laid her down on her bed, called Martha and told her the news, then went back to slide onto the bed next to her, propped up on pillows letting the tears flow free.