A Madman and His Couch (3/8)
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two
Jane ran a gentle hand over the smooth wooden surface, which had been painted a bright blue. Before he had left the CBI headquarters, he had briefly borrowed Van Pelt’s laptop to look up old British Police Boxes. As he sat comfortably on his couch, sipping at his tea, he had absorbed all the information that he could. This specific example seemed like a fairly good facsimile of the old boxes. There were a few anachronistic details which threw it however. For a start, the windows appeared to be ever so slightly wrong.
During his research, he had also discovered a website on Police Box Spotting. Apparently, over the years, the thing had been discovered in all sorts of random places. Jane had considered the potential, but disregarded the theory that it was the very same Police Box in all of these locations. That just seemed implausible; the dates and places could barely match up, and besides, it would have received a lot of wear and tear from that much transportation. Instead, he believed it was more likely that there was a group of people who had made building Police Boxes and taking photographs of them in odd places their hobby. A pointless one, like trainspotting, planking and knitting, for sure, but it was better than some alternatives. It kept individuals out of trouble and allowed them to focus on something creative, at least.
Before he’d left the headquarters, he had also snuck the unusually shaped key that they had taken from the John Doe out of evidence.
It now sat comfortably in his pocket. For some reason, Jane had had a hunch that it would come in handy during the day and he wasn’t one to ignore hunches like that. He hadn’t told Lisbon what he’d done either. He knew that she would have refused to let him take it if he’d done so. She was very specific about the fact that evidence had to stay in evidence. However, Jane couldn’t see how a smallish piece of metal, or large key, or whatever it was, was going to help her make any breakthroughs in the case. She had already admitted that it wasn’t going anywhere. That was why she had reluctantly let him go, or so she had claimed. Part of him wondered if her migraine meant she just wanted time away from him and space to breathe.
But that wasn’t his current concern. He quickly returned his attention to the task in hand. Keeping one hand on the blue box at all times, Jane walked around the perimeter of it. The thing practically hummed at his touch. He could already imagine that it was well-loved and that somebody had taken great care in the craftsmanship of the object. In the back of his mind, something niggled, suggesting that the thing was practically alive.
Finally, he stared at the lock. It was for a standard key; it certainly didn’t look like it could take something as large as the key in his right pocket. Still, he ran a thumb over it and promptly frowned. The lock felt ever so slightly loose. Gently, he applied a little more pressure and grinned as he pushed the metal plate upwards. Underneath was another lock and this time, it was much bigger. Now, it certainly looked like his hunch had paid off. The slot definitely appeared to be large enough to take the key from the John Doe. And when he reported back, Lisbon would be pleased that there had been a development of some variety on the case.
It was only natural that his next step was to take the key from his pocket and to slip it in.
Almost as soon as he did so, he was thrown three feet into the air. He landed five feet away and as his back slammed into the ground, the air was promptly pushed out of his lungs. Jane didn’t have time to feel any other aches and pains. Instead, he vaguely heard somebody from Petty Crimes who had driven him here call his name before he passed out, unconscious.
Blackness quickly disappeared. It was replaced with sleek silvery buildings. Jane looked up, and a crisp orange sky greeted him. Silver leaves fell through the air; it was fall on Gallifrey. That was where he was; this was home. He shook his head, looked ahead and smiled. In the distance, walking at a steady pace, he could see precisely who he was looking for. Jane started walking, speeding up as he did so, until he was practically running. His robes caught around his ankles, but he didn’t let it slow him down.
“Doctor,” he called out as he ran through the streets. “Doctor - wait!”
The Doctor turned on his heels and briefly gave Jane a cursory look over and then smiled a toothy grin. Jane watched him warily as he threw the ridiculously long scarf over his shoulder to stop himself from tripping over it. He was relieved that the man had smiled; this was the first time he had personally met the Doctor, though he knew full well that it wasn’t necessarily the first time the Doctor had met him. Time travel always made relationships with people that little more complicated. Soon enough, the Doctor closed the distance between them and gave Jane an affectionate slap on the shoulder. Part of him wanted to scream out, ask where he was and how the hell he had known this man’s name, or at least, his title. The rest of him felt so self-assured and confident in the knowledge that it didn’t matter. Gallifrey’s home, he repeated to himself.
“On behalf of everyone at the Academy, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for saving us from the Sontaran attack.”
“You’re quite welcome, er,” the Doctor paused as he tried to place the young man before him. “Veridicus, isn’t it?”
Jane was about to correct him, and tell the Doctor that his name was actually Patrick Jane, but instead, he nodded enthusiastically. “Veridicusanimadverto. It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Stick to Veridicus. It rolls off the tongue better,” the older man advised.
“Yes, sir,” Jane replied, almost a little too eagerly. “Where’s your companion, Leela, isn’t it?”
“I believe she is getting to know a young man by the name of Andred, Now if you don’t mind…?”
Jane stepped aside and allowed the Doctor to walk past. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and walked back towards the Academy. Briefly, he caught sight of his reflection on one of the buildings. A young man - barely a young adult, really - with a shock of red hair and startling green eyes stared straight back at him. He moved his right hand and the reflection did the same.
He started blinking rapidly, as if that would change the person staring back at him. Instead, it changed everything because he was suddenly faced with rolling green fields. Jane took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. This was Earth, somewhere in England if he was not mistaken. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he started walking at a fast clip as he scoured the countryside, looking for civilization. After precisely half an hour of walking in solitude, he was surrounded by soldiers, all armed with large guns. He sighed heavily. Jane loathed guns.
Still, he obeyed their instructions, albeit unwillingly. It was somewhat safer that way. Besides, he’d heard rumor and speculation that the Doctor had settled down in a military operation somewhere on Earth, in this country even. However, he didn’t have time to investigate. He was promptly thrown into a cell, without a single word, and left alone for two long hours. Eventually, the silence was broken by two men arguing.
“Brigadier! I demand you let this man free at once!”
“He was found trespassing on UNIT property; he is my criminal!”
“This man is one of my kind and I can vouch for him.”
The Brigadier’s shoulders sagged, in a not too dissimilar way to Lisbon’s whenever he undermined her. “Fine, but I am holding you personally responsible for him, Doctor.”
Later, they were ensconced in the Doctor’s laboratory. As Jane had introduced himself, explained as much as he could about their shared history, Jo Grant had kindly supplied them with tea and cake. The shared telepathy was often a useful skill; if the Doctor hadn’t been able to tell he was a fellow Time Lord, then who knew how long he would have been stuck in that cell?
“So, Veridicus, tell me. Have I been pardoned? Am I finally allowed to leave this godforsaken planet? Is that why you have come in search of me?”
“No, sir,” Jane answered back, sounding guilty. “I am here of my own accord. If possible, I would like some advice…”
Jane blinked again, and almost as quickly as he had left the orange skies of Gallifrey for the green fields of England, he found himself surrounded by a painful whiteness. The stench of disinfectant cloyed in the air and he coughed several times. A nurse quickly came and fussed around him, took his blood pressure and tested his reactions. Only then did the door swing open and Teresa Lisbon walked in.
She looked pale, or at least, paler than usual. Then again, she often looked that way whenever he had done something to worry her. He wanted to say something, to calm her down and tell her that everything would be okay. However, his throat felt sore and dry; all he really wanted was a glass of water. After indicating at it several times, she got the message and he took a long drink while she waited in silence.
“You okay?”
“Been better,” he admitted and a wry smile briefly crossed her face.
“You?”
“I’m fine. The doctor said you have a concussion. They want to keep you in for observation.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he was too busy focusing on the word ‘doctor’. Anything else that Lisbon had said after that point had completely missed him. For some reason, the word, the title felt important. There had to be a reason for that. The only doctor that had previously held any importance in his life was Sophie Miller. However, the person he was thinking about was definitely not her. It was a man - or was it several men? - that he was thinking about.
“Jane?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll drop by again later, okay? I need to get back to the office and work the case.”
He nodded and she disappeared without another word. Jane stared up at the ceiling and wrung his hands together as he tried to un-jumble his thoughts. It was only then that he realized that his wedding band, the one that he had been given by his wife on the day that they exchanged vows, had gone missing.
To Part Four
Jane ran a gentle hand over the smooth wooden surface, which had been painted a bright blue. Before he had left the CBI headquarters, he had briefly borrowed Van Pelt’s laptop to look up old British Police Boxes. As he sat comfortably on his couch, sipping at his tea, he had absorbed all the information that he could. This specific example seemed like a fairly good facsimile of the old boxes. There were a few anachronistic details which threw it however. For a start, the windows appeared to be ever so slightly wrong.
During his research, he had also discovered a website on Police Box Spotting. Apparently, over the years, the thing had been discovered in all sorts of random places. Jane had considered the potential, but disregarded the theory that it was the very same Police Box in all of these locations. That just seemed implausible; the dates and places could barely match up, and besides, it would have received a lot of wear and tear from that much transportation. Instead, he believed it was more likely that there was a group of people who had made building Police Boxes and taking photographs of them in odd places their hobby. A pointless one, like trainspotting, planking and knitting, for sure, but it was better than some alternatives. It kept individuals out of trouble and allowed them to focus on something creative, at least.
Before he’d left the headquarters, he had also snuck the unusually shaped key that they had taken from the John Doe out of evidence.
It now sat comfortably in his pocket. For some reason, Jane had had a hunch that it would come in handy during the day and he wasn’t one to ignore hunches like that. He hadn’t told Lisbon what he’d done either. He knew that she would have refused to let him take it if he’d done so. She was very specific about the fact that evidence had to stay in evidence. However, Jane couldn’t see how a smallish piece of metal, or large key, or whatever it was, was going to help her make any breakthroughs in the case. She had already admitted that it wasn’t going anywhere. That was why she had reluctantly let him go, or so she had claimed. Part of him wondered if her migraine meant she just wanted time away from him and space to breathe.
But that wasn’t his current concern. He quickly returned his attention to the task in hand. Keeping one hand on the blue box at all times, Jane walked around the perimeter of it. The thing practically hummed at his touch. He could already imagine that it was well-loved and that somebody had taken great care in the craftsmanship of the object. In the back of his mind, something niggled, suggesting that the thing was practically alive.
Finally, he stared at the lock. It was for a standard key; it certainly didn’t look like it could take something as large as the key in his right pocket. Still, he ran a thumb over it and promptly frowned. The lock felt ever so slightly loose. Gently, he applied a little more pressure and grinned as he pushed the metal plate upwards. Underneath was another lock and this time, it was much bigger. Now, it certainly looked like his hunch had paid off. The slot definitely appeared to be large enough to take the key from the John Doe. And when he reported back, Lisbon would be pleased that there had been a development of some variety on the case.
It was only natural that his next step was to take the key from his pocket and to slip it in.
Almost as soon as he did so, he was thrown three feet into the air. He landed five feet away and as his back slammed into the ground, the air was promptly pushed out of his lungs. Jane didn’t have time to feel any other aches and pains. Instead, he vaguely heard somebody from Petty Crimes who had driven him here call his name before he passed out, unconscious.
Blackness quickly disappeared. It was replaced with sleek silvery buildings. Jane looked up, and a crisp orange sky greeted him. Silver leaves fell through the air; it was fall on Gallifrey. That was where he was; this was home. He shook his head, looked ahead and smiled. In the distance, walking at a steady pace, he could see precisely who he was looking for. Jane started walking, speeding up as he did so, until he was practically running. His robes caught around his ankles, but he didn’t let it slow him down.
“Doctor,” he called out as he ran through the streets. “Doctor - wait!”
The Doctor turned on his heels and briefly gave Jane a cursory look over and then smiled a toothy grin. Jane watched him warily as he threw the ridiculously long scarf over his shoulder to stop himself from tripping over it. He was relieved that the man had smiled; this was the first time he had personally met the Doctor, though he knew full well that it wasn’t necessarily the first time the Doctor had met him. Time travel always made relationships with people that little more complicated. Soon enough, the Doctor closed the distance between them and gave Jane an affectionate slap on the shoulder. Part of him wanted to scream out, ask where he was and how the hell he had known this man’s name, or at least, his title. The rest of him felt so self-assured and confident in the knowledge that it didn’t matter. Gallifrey’s home, he repeated to himself.
“On behalf of everyone at the Academy, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for saving us from the Sontaran attack.”
“You’re quite welcome, er,” the Doctor paused as he tried to place the young man before him. “Veridicus, isn’t it?”
Jane was about to correct him, and tell the Doctor that his name was actually Patrick Jane, but instead, he nodded enthusiastically. “Veridicusanimadverto. It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Stick to Veridicus. It rolls off the tongue better,” the older man advised.
“Yes, sir,” Jane replied, almost a little too eagerly. “Where’s your companion, Leela, isn’t it?”
“I believe she is getting to know a young man by the name of Andred, Now if you don’t mind…?”
Jane stepped aside and allowed the Doctor to walk past. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and walked back towards the Academy. Briefly, he caught sight of his reflection on one of the buildings. A young man - barely a young adult, really - with a shock of red hair and startling green eyes stared straight back at him. He moved his right hand and the reflection did the same.
He started blinking rapidly, as if that would change the person staring back at him. Instead, it changed everything because he was suddenly faced with rolling green fields. Jane took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. This was Earth, somewhere in England if he was not mistaken. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he started walking at a fast clip as he scoured the countryside, looking for civilization. After precisely half an hour of walking in solitude, he was surrounded by soldiers, all armed with large guns. He sighed heavily. Jane loathed guns.
Still, he obeyed their instructions, albeit unwillingly. It was somewhat safer that way. Besides, he’d heard rumor and speculation that the Doctor had settled down in a military operation somewhere on Earth, in this country even. However, he didn’t have time to investigate. He was promptly thrown into a cell, without a single word, and left alone for two long hours. Eventually, the silence was broken by two men arguing.
“Brigadier! I demand you let this man free at once!”
“He was found trespassing on UNIT property; he is my criminal!”
“This man is one of my kind and I can vouch for him.”
The Brigadier’s shoulders sagged, in a not too dissimilar way to Lisbon’s whenever he undermined her. “Fine, but I am holding you personally responsible for him, Doctor.”
Later, they were ensconced in the Doctor’s laboratory. As Jane had introduced himself, explained as much as he could about their shared history, Jo Grant had kindly supplied them with tea and cake. The shared telepathy was often a useful skill; if the Doctor hadn’t been able to tell he was a fellow Time Lord, then who knew how long he would have been stuck in that cell?
“So, Veridicus, tell me. Have I been pardoned? Am I finally allowed to leave this godforsaken planet? Is that why you have come in search of me?”
“No, sir,” Jane answered back, sounding guilty. “I am here of my own accord. If possible, I would like some advice…”
Jane blinked again, and almost as quickly as he had left the orange skies of Gallifrey for the green fields of England, he found himself surrounded by a painful whiteness. The stench of disinfectant cloyed in the air and he coughed several times. A nurse quickly came and fussed around him, took his blood pressure and tested his reactions. Only then did the door swing open and Teresa Lisbon walked in.
She looked pale, or at least, paler than usual. Then again, she often looked that way whenever he had done something to worry her. He wanted to say something, to calm her down and tell her that everything would be okay. However, his throat felt sore and dry; all he really wanted was a glass of water. After indicating at it several times, she got the message and he took a long drink while she waited in silence.
“You okay?”
“Been better,” he admitted and a wry smile briefly crossed her face.
“You?”
“I’m fine. The doctor said you have a concussion. They want to keep you in for observation.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he was too busy focusing on the word ‘doctor’. Anything else that Lisbon had said after that point had completely missed him. For some reason, the word, the title felt important. There had to be a reason for that. The only doctor that had previously held any importance in his life was Sophie Miller. However, the person he was thinking about was definitely not her. It was a man - or was it several men? - that he was thinking about.
“Jane?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll drop by again later, okay? I need to get back to the office and work the case.”
He nodded and she disappeared without another word. Jane stared up at the ceiling and wrung his hands together as he tried to un-jumble his thoughts. It was only then that he realized that his wedding band, the one that he had been given by his wife on the day that they exchanged vows, had gone missing.
To Part Four