Doctor Who fic: The Boy Who Waited (39/49)
Title: The Boy Who Waited (39/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Part Seven: On Behalf of the Human Race
“You sound busy.”
Barbara stopped shuffling through the stacks of paper on her desk. “Sorry, am I making too much noise?” She re-positioned the phone cradle, trying to find a comfortable spot for it between her neck and shoulder.
“No, I don’t mean that.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “But you do sound distracted.”
“Oh, I am,” Barbara said with a heavy sigh. She gave up on finding the latest memo from the museum’s board of directors and sat down in her chair. “The exhibit opens the day after tomorrow. Everything seems ready…”
“You worry too much, Barbara. Everything will be fine.”
She forced herself to take a deep breath. “You’re right.” A brief smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “How do I manage without you?”
Ian Chesterton laughed. “I should be asking you the same question. Coal Hill hasn’t been the same since you left.”
Barbara had fond memories of her schoolteacher days, but she had constantly felt the pull of history. Returning to university and becoming a historian, and later a curator, had been the only way to satisfy her academic desires. “Will you be visiting the exhibit?”
“Of course. I’ve been planning this field trip for months and I’m not even a history teacher.”
“Find me on the day, if you can slip away for a bit. I’d like to catch up in person.”
“I’ll concoct an emergency phone call.”
Barbara shook her head. There were days when she missed her simpler life at Coal Hill and Ian was chief among the reasons. “I’ll let you go. I shouldn’t keep the headmaster from his students.”
They said their good-byes and then she hung up the phone. She wished she could stay in her office, but there were some last minute tasks to do.
“‘Once more unto the breach,’” Barbara muttered to herself.
She had made it past the staff room when the curator for the Enlightenment Europe section of the museum, Polly Jackson, caught up with her. “Oh, Barbara. They’re looking for you in the main hall. Seems you have a visitor.”
Barbara immediately thought of Sarah Jane. They had done the formal interview a few days ago, but perhaps the journalist wanted to do some follow-up questions. “I was on the phone. No wonder no one could reach me.” She offered her thanks and picked up her pace.
The museum was modestly full for the morning and Barbara had no troubles spotting Dorothy and Donna. The two women were holding a conversation with a man she had never seen before, but whoever he was, he had no difficulties holding the pair’s attention. Dorothy and Donna seemed to hang on the man’s every word and they gazed at him with what only could be described as puppy dog eyes.
Barbara took a moment to assess this man. He was tall, with dark brown hair, broad shoulders, and a strong jaw, and yes, he was handsome. There was no denying that. When he smiled, he showed off a set of perfect white teeth. He wore a long, grey coat that suited his well-built frame.
Was he the visitor Polly had mentioned?
With her curiosity piqued, she made her way over. The man made a joke and Dorothy and Donna broke out into peals of laughter. She also noticed for the first time that the man spoke with an American accent. Perhaps one of her colleagues overseas had sent the man to the museum to discuss the Pandorica.
The man noticed her and he immediately stepped forward to shake her hand. Barbara couldn’t help but noticed how powerful his grip was and how callused his palms were. “Barbara Wright. Good to meet you.”
She also couldn’t help but notice how magnificently blue the man’s eyes were, but she quickly averted her gaze before she could start staring. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Captain Jack Harkness.”
“A captain?” Barbara glanced at Dorothy and Donna for some help, but neither of them were paying her any attention.
Harkness flashed that perfect smile of his. “I work for Her Majesty. I’m here to check on the Pandorica.”
“Oh.” Barbara had been expecting something like this. The Pandorica was, after all, on loan from the Queen. It was part of the Royal Collection and she couldn’t blame Queen Elizabeth for wanting to see how the conditions were at the museum. Harkness was likely here to assess the state of the security. “Right this way.”
“Ladies.” Harkness nodded his head at Dorothy and Donna and both women seemed to deflate when they realized they weren’t being invited to come along. Barbara bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from smiling. The two of them couldn’t have been more obvious.
The Anomalies exhibit was, by all accounts, ready to be unveiled to the public. Every title card, sign, and diagram was placed where they needed to be and all audio and visual components were hooked up. Each display was carefully arranged and hopefully eye-catching enough that a person walking by would stop and take it in. Barbara, though, she could see every tiny flaw. They were unnoticeable to an undiscerning eye, but she could still see them and that bothered her.
Ian was right. She did worry too much.
“And there it is.” Harkness stared at the Pandorica with quiet awe, the kind of wonder one reserved for great works of art. “I never get tired of seeing it.”
“I hope the public has the same sentiment.” Barbara lightly trailed her hand over the velvet rope that ensured people didn’t get too close to the Pandorica. She was used to exhibits bringing in small returns, but she had high hopes for the Anomalies. Like Sarah Jane had said, no one could resist a good mystery.
“You know what I love about the Pandorica?” Barbara looked up and found Harkness smiling that brilliant smile of his. He wasn’t just trying to be charming. He actually trying to instil some faith in her. “It’s not just beautiful. It’s inspiring. When you look at it, you can’t help but think of loyalty and devotion.”
Looking at Captain Jack Harkness, with his rugged good looks, Barbara would have never pegged him as a hopeless romantic.
“It also brought the greatest warrior the world has ever seen to Great Britain. Our tiny little island was where the Lone Centurion spent his last days.
“You should see the sealed records about him. He did a lot more for this country than most people realize…”
* * *
London, 1867 A.D.
Now that Rory was here, things didn’t look so different after all. Oh, there were horses and carriages instead of cars, and dirt roads instead of pavement, but a lot of London looked as he expected, just a little less worn. The River Thames still wound its way through the city and the Houses of Parliament stood proudly by its banks. Big Ben still chimed on the hour and pigeons roosted on Nelson’s head. Even a hundred years from now, when the glass towers started to go up, this version of London wouldn’t fade away completely.
The wooden cart trundled along, weighted down by the bulk of the Pandorica. Queen Victoria may have commissioned a specially modified ship to carry the box across the ocean but here on land all they needed was a cart and a team of four horses. A fancy black covering hid the Pandorica from view, but it wasn’t hard to tell what was beneath. The big box shape gave it away. It also didn’t help that the papers had reported on the return of the Pandorica. Slipping the reporters the wrong date of the ship’s arrival was the only thing that had saved Rory from being greeted by a mob.
His eventual destination was Buckingham Palace, where he would meet the Queen herself and some of the staff who worked with the Royal Collection. The Pandorica was being treated as though it was any other work of art, but it was expected that it would never be viewed by the public, unless some future monarch decided otherwise.
Rory was fine with the decision, for now at least. The Pandorica would be safer out of the public eye and being protected around the clock in one of the Royal Collection’s warehouses was the best place he could think of. When it came time to get a DNA sample to bring Amy back to life, well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
The cart made its way around to rear of the palace, where the stables were. Rory couldn’t see them dragging the Pandorica into Buckingham just to show it off to the Queen, but Victoria was the ruler of Great Britain. If she asked for something, it would be done.
A small group was waiting for them when they pulled up. He didn’t see the Queen among them, but he figured she would be along in a minute. He got down from the front of the cart and nodded graciously at the group. The four men who rushed forward to remove the covering from the Pandorica were probably servants of some kind and they didn’t pay Rory much attention. It was the remaining three people who took stock of him. There was a nervous, middle aged woman, an older man with a thin moustache, and a young man with curly hair who was dressed very formally. The woman slowly approached Rory and started to walk around him.
“Hello,” greeted the older man in Latin. “Welcome to Buckingham Palace.”
It seemed strange that he was using Latin, but Rory went with it. Maybe they thought he didn’t speak English? “It is an honour to be here.”
“I am Sir Henry Walters and this is my assistant, Mr. Mews. We are from the Royal Collection and we will be caring for the Pandorica.”
The woman finished her circuit and shook her head. Without warning, she reached out and re-arranged Rory’s cape. He took a surprised step back. “What are you doing?” he asked in English.
The woman blinked at him. She glanced back at Walters. “You are English?” he asked, his right eyebrow arched high on his forehead.
It took Rory a second to realize that Walters was surprised by his accent, not his use of English. What were Romans supposed to sound like? If the movies were to be believed, all Romans sounded English. “I spent a long time in the colonies.” He offered nothing else and hoped the matter would be dropped.
“Is this the best outfit you own?” asked the woman. Her change in topic, though strange, mercifully drew attention away from Rory’s peculiarities.
“It’s the only outfit I own.”
“I was to make you presentable for the Queen. I am afraid we have failed in that endeavour.” She brushed some dirt from Rory’s shoulder with a sigh. “I will let them know that you are ready.” Rory, wordlessly, watched her leave. There was nothing wrong his armour. It was a little banged up but it still looked nice. Feeling a little self-conscious now, he adjusted his helmet and stood up a little straighter.
They didn’t have to wait long. Five minutes later, he heard numerous footsteps headed towards them. The moment the Queen appeared, everyone stood at attention. Even the horses, who hadn’t been unhitched from the cart, stopped their restless stamping of their hooves.
Rory had seen enough pictures of Queen Victoria in history books to recognize her, but pictures and real life were two different things. She seemed so small, but far from helpless. Her no nonsense expression gave her an air of authority. She reminded Rory of one of the doctors at Leadworth Hospital who had routinely crushed new interns under her heel with hardly any effort. He got the impression that Queen Victoria could crush him with just a few words if need be.
The Queen was dressed all in black, as was her custom after the death of her husband, Prince Albert. A small crown graced the top of her head and beneath that was grey hair, pinned up so that it was out of her face. Her regal gaze swept around the group and her eyes momentarily lingered on the Pandorica before she settled on Rory.
Rory had met emperors and kings before, but this was his first queen. He wasn’t completely ignorant about procedure though; he had his mother to thank for that. She wasn’t an obsessive Royal watcher, but she followed them in the news and he had caught glimpses of enough TV footage at home to know that it was custom to bow before the monarch. Rory put one arm behind his back and bowed at the waist.
“Your Royal Highness,” he said.
When he straightened up, Queen Victoria’s expression hadn’t changed. There was something in her eyes, though. Awe, maybe?
He looked around at her attendants before he could start staring. Five people had entered with her. Four seemed to be from the palace, the usual sort of people who followed monarchs around. Servants, public relations, and so on. The only one that looked out of place was a tall man who stood to the rear of the party. His attention wasn’t on the Queen nor did he stand ready to cater to her every whim. The man was looking at the Pandorica.
“We have been eager to meet you, Centurion.” Queen Victoria hesitated just slightly before she spoke his title, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend that he didn’t go by “Mr.” or “Sir”.
“It is an honour to meet you, ma’am.”
“How do you find London?”
“It is… different. I hope to explore when I get the chance.” That sounded like the right answer. He couldn’t very well say that it was as he expected.
“And this is the Pandorica?” The Queen moved forward to examine the box and her attendants moved with her. Rory stepped out of her way so she could get as close as possible. “It is larger than I expected.” She glanced to Walters, who snapped to attention. “Is there enough space for the object in the Collection?”
“We will make room if there is not, ma’am,” Walters replied with certainty.
The Queen turned to Rory. “It is said that you have travelled far and have visited many places across the globe. Perhaps at a later date you could entertain us with your tales.”
Rory barely stopped himself from blurting out, “A later date?” He had been under the impression that he would have a lengthy meeting with the monarch.
“For the time being,” continued Queen Victoria, “we would like you to speak to an advisor of ours. The Pandorica is now a holding of the Crown, as are you. You will follow any orders given to you.” That was seemingly the end of the conversation. She turned and left and everyone was quick to follow.
Rory stood there, too stunned for words. He was a holding of the Crown? That made him no better than common property. He was practically a slave again.
“Don’t worry about Her Majesty. You get used to her.”
Rory looked up. He had thought that everyone had left, but the man he had noticed had remained. He had the long sideburns of the era and he wore a grey ulster. Unusually, he spoke with an American accent.
“And you are?”
“The advisor the Queen mentioned.” The man held out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness.”
Rory didn’t move. “How does an American captain become an advisor to the Queen of Great Britain?”
Harkness smiled, like Rory had just told a joke. “Let’s take a walk.” He gestured past the stables to the gardens beyond.
“Is that an order?”
“I can make it one. Personally, I just want to take a walk with a handsome soldier.”
Was Harkness… flirting with him?
Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, just to show that he was armed, Rory gestured for Harkness to lead the way. They walked for a bit without saying anything. He couldn’t help but think he would have been better off back in Canada. At least there he was respected. Here… “What is going on?” he finally asked.
“Do you want to know the real reason the Queen wanted the Pandorica back? It’s an anomaly, something that can’t be explained. You could say it’s something of an interest with her, the unexplainable.”
“Really?”
“You’re well-travelled. You’ve probably seen things that escape reason.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I have to follow orders.”
An extensive green space opened up before them. It was literally a field in the Queen’s backyard. A gravel path led past a reflecting pond and further into the grounds. Harkness stopped here. “The empire is full of things that defy belief. It’s my job to look into them. If something looks promising, I bring it back for the Queen. You’ll be working for me, soldier.”
Rory clenched his hand around his sword. “What? Why?”
Harkness placed his hand on Rory’s shoulder and smiled at him. His teeth were perfectly aligned and impossibly white. Rory glanced at Harkness’ hand, but the man didn’t remove it. “Believe me, it’s this or being locked up for all of eternity. Your choice.”
It didn’t seem like much of a choice, but servitude was slightly better than imprisonment. And there was something about Harkness that made Rory feel like he should keep a close eye on the man. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll work with you.”
“Great.” Harkness slapped him on the back. “Welcome to Torchwood.”
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Part Seven: On Behalf of the Human Race
“You sound busy.”
Barbara stopped shuffling through the stacks of paper on her desk. “Sorry, am I making too much noise?” She re-positioned the phone cradle, trying to find a comfortable spot for it between her neck and shoulder.
“No, I don’t mean that.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “But you do sound distracted.”
“Oh, I am,” Barbara said with a heavy sigh. She gave up on finding the latest memo from the museum’s board of directors and sat down in her chair. “The exhibit opens the day after tomorrow. Everything seems ready…”
“You worry too much, Barbara. Everything will be fine.”
She forced herself to take a deep breath. “You’re right.” A brief smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “How do I manage without you?”
Ian Chesterton laughed. “I should be asking you the same question. Coal Hill hasn’t been the same since you left.”
Barbara had fond memories of her schoolteacher days, but she had constantly felt the pull of history. Returning to university and becoming a historian, and later a curator, had been the only way to satisfy her academic desires. “Will you be visiting the exhibit?”
“Of course. I’ve been planning this field trip for months and I’m not even a history teacher.”
“Find me on the day, if you can slip away for a bit. I’d like to catch up in person.”
“I’ll concoct an emergency phone call.”
Barbara shook her head. There were days when she missed her simpler life at Coal Hill and Ian was chief among the reasons. “I’ll let you go. I shouldn’t keep the headmaster from his students.”
They said their good-byes and then she hung up the phone. She wished she could stay in her office, but there were some last minute tasks to do.
“‘Once more unto the breach,’” Barbara muttered to herself.
She had made it past the staff room when the curator for the Enlightenment Europe section of the museum, Polly Jackson, caught up with her. “Oh, Barbara. They’re looking for you in the main hall. Seems you have a visitor.”
Barbara immediately thought of Sarah Jane. They had done the formal interview a few days ago, but perhaps the journalist wanted to do some follow-up questions. “I was on the phone. No wonder no one could reach me.” She offered her thanks and picked up her pace.
The museum was modestly full for the morning and Barbara had no troubles spotting Dorothy and Donna. The two women were holding a conversation with a man she had never seen before, but whoever he was, he had no difficulties holding the pair’s attention. Dorothy and Donna seemed to hang on the man’s every word and they gazed at him with what only could be described as puppy dog eyes.
Barbara took a moment to assess this man. He was tall, with dark brown hair, broad shoulders, and a strong jaw, and yes, he was handsome. There was no denying that. When he smiled, he showed off a set of perfect white teeth. He wore a long, grey coat that suited his well-built frame.
Was he the visitor Polly had mentioned?
With her curiosity piqued, she made her way over. The man made a joke and Dorothy and Donna broke out into peals of laughter. She also noticed for the first time that the man spoke with an American accent. Perhaps one of her colleagues overseas had sent the man to the museum to discuss the Pandorica.
The man noticed her and he immediately stepped forward to shake her hand. Barbara couldn’t help but noticed how powerful his grip was and how callused his palms were. “Barbara Wright. Good to meet you.”
She also couldn’t help but notice how magnificently blue the man’s eyes were, but she quickly averted her gaze before she could start staring. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Captain Jack Harkness.”
“A captain?” Barbara glanced at Dorothy and Donna for some help, but neither of them were paying her any attention.
Harkness flashed that perfect smile of his. “I work for Her Majesty. I’m here to check on the Pandorica.”
“Oh.” Barbara had been expecting something like this. The Pandorica was, after all, on loan from the Queen. It was part of the Royal Collection and she couldn’t blame Queen Elizabeth for wanting to see how the conditions were at the museum. Harkness was likely here to assess the state of the security. “Right this way.”
“Ladies.” Harkness nodded his head at Dorothy and Donna and both women seemed to deflate when they realized they weren’t being invited to come along. Barbara bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from smiling. The two of them couldn’t have been more obvious.
The Anomalies exhibit was, by all accounts, ready to be unveiled to the public. Every title card, sign, and diagram was placed where they needed to be and all audio and visual components were hooked up. Each display was carefully arranged and hopefully eye-catching enough that a person walking by would stop and take it in. Barbara, though, she could see every tiny flaw. They were unnoticeable to an undiscerning eye, but she could still see them and that bothered her.
Ian was right. She did worry too much.
“And there it is.” Harkness stared at the Pandorica with quiet awe, the kind of wonder one reserved for great works of art. “I never get tired of seeing it.”
“I hope the public has the same sentiment.” Barbara lightly trailed her hand over the velvet rope that ensured people didn’t get too close to the Pandorica. She was used to exhibits bringing in small returns, but she had high hopes for the Anomalies. Like Sarah Jane had said, no one could resist a good mystery.
“You know what I love about the Pandorica?” Barbara looked up and found Harkness smiling that brilliant smile of his. He wasn’t just trying to be charming. He actually trying to instil some faith in her. “It’s not just beautiful. It’s inspiring. When you look at it, you can’t help but think of loyalty and devotion.”
Looking at Captain Jack Harkness, with his rugged good looks, Barbara would have never pegged him as a hopeless romantic.
“It also brought the greatest warrior the world has ever seen to Great Britain. Our tiny little island was where the Lone Centurion spent his last days.
“You should see the sealed records about him. He did a lot more for this country than most people realize…”
* * *
London, 1867 A.D.
Now that Rory was here, things didn’t look so different after all. Oh, there were horses and carriages instead of cars, and dirt roads instead of pavement, but a lot of London looked as he expected, just a little less worn. The River Thames still wound its way through the city and the Houses of Parliament stood proudly by its banks. Big Ben still chimed on the hour and pigeons roosted on Nelson’s head. Even a hundred years from now, when the glass towers started to go up, this version of London wouldn’t fade away completely.
The wooden cart trundled along, weighted down by the bulk of the Pandorica. Queen Victoria may have commissioned a specially modified ship to carry the box across the ocean but here on land all they needed was a cart and a team of four horses. A fancy black covering hid the Pandorica from view, but it wasn’t hard to tell what was beneath. The big box shape gave it away. It also didn’t help that the papers had reported on the return of the Pandorica. Slipping the reporters the wrong date of the ship’s arrival was the only thing that had saved Rory from being greeted by a mob.
His eventual destination was Buckingham Palace, where he would meet the Queen herself and some of the staff who worked with the Royal Collection. The Pandorica was being treated as though it was any other work of art, but it was expected that it would never be viewed by the public, unless some future monarch decided otherwise.
Rory was fine with the decision, for now at least. The Pandorica would be safer out of the public eye and being protected around the clock in one of the Royal Collection’s warehouses was the best place he could think of. When it came time to get a DNA sample to bring Amy back to life, well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
The cart made its way around to rear of the palace, where the stables were. Rory couldn’t see them dragging the Pandorica into Buckingham just to show it off to the Queen, but Victoria was the ruler of Great Britain. If she asked for something, it would be done.
A small group was waiting for them when they pulled up. He didn’t see the Queen among them, but he figured she would be along in a minute. He got down from the front of the cart and nodded graciously at the group. The four men who rushed forward to remove the covering from the Pandorica were probably servants of some kind and they didn’t pay Rory much attention. It was the remaining three people who took stock of him. There was a nervous, middle aged woman, an older man with a thin moustache, and a young man with curly hair who was dressed very formally. The woman slowly approached Rory and started to walk around him.
“Hello,” greeted the older man in Latin. “Welcome to Buckingham Palace.”
It seemed strange that he was using Latin, but Rory went with it. Maybe they thought he didn’t speak English? “It is an honour to be here.”
“I am Sir Henry Walters and this is my assistant, Mr. Mews. We are from the Royal Collection and we will be caring for the Pandorica.”
The woman finished her circuit and shook her head. Without warning, she reached out and re-arranged Rory’s cape. He took a surprised step back. “What are you doing?” he asked in English.
The woman blinked at him. She glanced back at Walters. “You are English?” he asked, his right eyebrow arched high on his forehead.
It took Rory a second to realize that Walters was surprised by his accent, not his use of English. What were Romans supposed to sound like? If the movies were to be believed, all Romans sounded English. “I spent a long time in the colonies.” He offered nothing else and hoped the matter would be dropped.
“Is this the best outfit you own?” asked the woman. Her change in topic, though strange, mercifully drew attention away from Rory’s peculiarities.
“It’s the only outfit I own.”
“I was to make you presentable for the Queen. I am afraid we have failed in that endeavour.” She brushed some dirt from Rory’s shoulder with a sigh. “I will let them know that you are ready.” Rory, wordlessly, watched her leave. There was nothing wrong his armour. It was a little banged up but it still looked nice. Feeling a little self-conscious now, he adjusted his helmet and stood up a little straighter.
They didn’t have to wait long. Five minutes later, he heard numerous footsteps headed towards them. The moment the Queen appeared, everyone stood at attention. Even the horses, who hadn’t been unhitched from the cart, stopped their restless stamping of their hooves.
Rory had seen enough pictures of Queen Victoria in history books to recognize her, but pictures and real life were two different things. She seemed so small, but far from helpless. Her no nonsense expression gave her an air of authority. She reminded Rory of one of the doctors at Leadworth Hospital who had routinely crushed new interns under her heel with hardly any effort. He got the impression that Queen Victoria could crush him with just a few words if need be.
The Queen was dressed all in black, as was her custom after the death of her husband, Prince Albert. A small crown graced the top of her head and beneath that was grey hair, pinned up so that it was out of her face. Her regal gaze swept around the group and her eyes momentarily lingered on the Pandorica before she settled on Rory.
Rory had met emperors and kings before, but this was his first queen. He wasn’t completely ignorant about procedure though; he had his mother to thank for that. She wasn’t an obsessive Royal watcher, but she followed them in the news and he had caught glimpses of enough TV footage at home to know that it was custom to bow before the monarch. Rory put one arm behind his back and bowed at the waist.
“Your Royal Highness,” he said.
When he straightened up, Queen Victoria’s expression hadn’t changed. There was something in her eyes, though. Awe, maybe?
He looked around at her attendants before he could start staring. Five people had entered with her. Four seemed to be from the palace, the usual sort of people who followed monarchs around. Servants, public relations, and so on. The only one that looked out of place was a tall man who stood to the rear of the party. His attention wasn’t on the Queen nor did he stand ready to cater to her every whim. The man was looking at the Pandorica.
“We have been eager to meet you, Centurion.” Queen Victoria hesitated just slightly before she spoke his title, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend that he didn’t go by “Mr.” or “Sir”.
“It is an honour to meet you, ma’am.”
“How do you find London?”
“It is… different. I hope to explore when I get the chance.” That sounded like the right answer. He couldn’t very well say that it was as he expected.
“And this is the Pandorica?” The Queen moved forward to examine the box and her attendants moved with her. Rory stepped out of her way so she could get as close as possible. “It is larger than I expected.” She glanced to Walters, who snapped to attention. “Is there enough space for the object in the Collection?”
“We will make room if there is not, ma’am,” Walters replied with certainty.
The Queen turned to Rory. “It is said that you have travelled far and have visited many places across the globe. Perhaps at a later date you could entertain us with your tales.”
Rory barely stopped himself from blurting out, “A later date?” He had been under the impression that he would have a lengthy meeting with the monarch.
“For the time being,” continued Queen Victoria, “we would like you to speak to an advisor of ours. The Pandorica is now a holding of the Crown, as are you. You will follow any orders given to you.” That was seemingly the end of the conversation. She turned and left and everyone was quick to follow.
Rory stood there, too stunned for words. He was a holding of the Crown? That made him no better than common property. He was practically a slave again.
“Don’t worry about Her Majesty. You get used to her.”
Rory looked up. He had thought that everyone had left, but the man he had noticed had remained. He had the long sideburns of the era and he wore a grey ulster. Unusually, he spoke with an American accent.
“And you are?”
“The advisor the Queen mentioned.” The man held out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness.”
Rory didn’t move. “How does an American captain become an advisor to the Queen of Great Britain?”
Harkness smiled, like Rory had just told a joke. “Let’s take a walk.” He gestured past the stables to the gardens beyond.
“Is that an order?”
“I can make it one. Personally, I just want to take a walk with a handsome soldier.”
Was Harkness… flirting with him?
Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, just to show that he was armed, Rory gestured for Harkness to lead the way. They walked for a bit without saying anything. He couldn’t help but think he would have been better off back in Canada. At least there he was respected. Here… “What is going on?” he finally asked.
“Do you want to know the real reason the Queen wanted the Pandorica back? It’s an anomaly, something that can’t be explained. You could say it’s something of an interest with her, the unexplainable.”
“Really?”
“You’re well-travelled. You’ve probably seen things that escape reason.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I have to follow orders.”
An extensive green space opened up before them. It was literally a field in the Queen’s backyard. A gravel path led past a reflecting pond and further into the grounds. Harkness stopped here. “The empire is full of things that defy belief. It’s my job to look into them. If something looks promising, I bring it back for the Queen. You’ll be working for me, soldier.”
Rory clenched his hand around his sword. “What? Why?”
Harkness placed his hand on Rory’s shoulder and smiled at him. His teeth were perfectly aligned and impossibly white. Rory glanced at Harkness’ hand, but the man didn’t remove it. “Believe me, it’s this or being locked up for all of eternity. Your choice.”
It didn’t seem like much of a choice, but servitude was slightly better than imprisonment. And there was something about Harkness that made Rory feel like he should keep a close eye on the man. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll work with you.”
“Great.” Harkness slapped him on the back. “Welcome to Torchwood.”