Fic: Lapis Philosophorum, Chapters 2-3
TITLE: ‘Lapis Philosophorum’
AUTHOR: QKellie
FANDOM: Doctor Who (and Torchwood to a lesser extent)
CHARACTERS: Rose Tyler, the Doctor, the Doctor ‘10.5’, Donna Noble, Jackie Tyler, Pete Tyler, Jake Simmonds, John Hart, Lucy Saxon, Harold Saxon, others
PAIRINGS: Rose/Doctor 10.5, Lucy Saxon/Harold Saxon (implied), Jake/Mickey (implied), others
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Gen/drama/romance
WARNINGS: Spoilers for DW through series 4 and TW series 2x01. OCs present but not used to ship with anyone besides other OCs. Moderate to extreme Doctor/Rose shippiness abounds. Discussions of angst, action, violence, and bisexuality, but at heart this is a genfic, honestly.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story takes a cut scene from DW’s series 4 finale as canon, but it does not depict it with a complete adherence to accuracy as it actually took place. TW spoilers spring up only after Chapter 23.
Prologues and Chapter One
CHAPTER TWO
It was true the trains had been running late, but Rose was also tardy to work because she hadn’t slept. The night before, after the first round of Torchwood visits involving more medical tests than job interviews, she’d left him back at her flat and gone to her folks’ for the night, ‘just to see Tony; you understand,’ but that hadn’t been it at all. She hadn’t wanted to even be under the same roof with him.
She had never imagined it would be this painful and odd.
And so she’d spent the night awake in her parents’ guest room, staring at the ceiling and pretending not to be pretending he was next to her.
‘I’m right here, Rose.’
‘You’re halfway across the galaxy on the other side of the void between the universes,’ she’d corrected him... herself... nobody. He’s not really here, not in this room, not in this city... stop dreaming...
She imagined him propping himself up on one elbow, wearing the ridiculous pajamas he’d had on after the first time she saw him regenerate. That tousled hair was all askew in haphazard peaks, but he sported more stubble than the Doctor ever had. ‘I’m here,’ he repeated. ‘I’m right here, and I lo-’
‘Don’t say it again,’ she’d interrupted. ‘I’ll... please, don’t say it again right now, not yet.’
‘You kissed me,’ he’d pointed out. ‘And I kissed you back. I don’t just go around kissing people, you know.’
She wanted to melt into him and take all the comfort from him she knew she ached for, but...
That was why she wasn’t at her own flat. Because she didn’t want to do anything irrevocable, not yet.
She should’ve taken a sick day and let him find his own way at Torchwood to start, but she did ultimately want to see him, even if it was just for a few uncomfortable moments. She’d gone two years without him, two years during which she thought she’d never see him again, and now...
Now she put her earpiece in and shoved all thoughts of him out of her head. She roused her computer from sleep mode and speed dialed Jackie’s cell. In moments, her mother’s face was staring back at her from her computer screen. ‘You’re early,’ Jackie told her. ‘Thought you weren’t going to ring me ‘til noon, darling.’
‘Got things to do later,’ Rose replied. ‘Besides, I figured if she knew we were checking in, she wouldn’t expect we’d do it this early, right?’
Jackie shrugged, then staggered a bit as she was brushed from behind by a blurry passer-by.
‘Where are you, anyway?’ Rose asked.
‘Trading floor. Bit busy today,’ Jackie told her. ‘You’ll have to let me go soon; I’ve got to bid on some Haroco for a client before it’s all gone.’
‘I don’t know why you want to work, ‘specially someplace so stressful,’ Rose mused. ‘Dad does well enough.’
Jackie huffed. ‘I spent twenty years workin’ dead-ends to raise you as a single mum, didn’t I? And now I got a chance to try any-bleeding-thing I want. D’you think I want to sit home every day and change nappies if I don’t have to?’
‘Yeah, but-’
‘I love you, I love Tony, and I love your dad, but I’m me own woman now, Rose Tyler, and I’m not apologizin’ to nobody for doin’ somethin’ that fulfills me.’
‘Of course not,’ Rose allowed.
‘Did I complain about you spending two years of your life traipsing around the galaxy?’
Rose laughed. ‘Yeah, actually, you did.’
Jackie smiled. ‘Well, all right, but no matter what, you got to leave me this, don’t you? I can’t be expected to freelance with Torchwood all the bloody time. I want to do some things that don’t involve aliens, after all.’
‘All right, all right.’ Rose clicked an icon on her desktop and pulled up a four-way split screen, each box filled with a password prompt floating above a field of black and white static. ‘What were your zone passwords again?’
‘Downstairs corridors are my birthday,’ Jackie said, ‘and then yours is the whole of upstairs.’
Rose grinned. ‘Ta.’
‘What, you think I ain’t a good mother?’
Rose entered the numbers into the password boxes, and the static in each screen cut to security feeds of the Tyler home.
‘You know you could do this yourself if you got an eHaro,’ Rose pointed out. ‘You can get streaming video on those right easy.’
‘Easier for you to monitor it, love.’ On Jackie’s end of the call, a bell started to sound. ‘Got to go, Rose. Trading time again. Email me the report, yeah?’
‘No problem,’ Rose said. ‘See you later.’
‘You’re coming back tonight?’
Rose paused. ‘I... I dunno...’
‘Don’t, darling,’ Jackie told her. ‘You two need some time together.’
‘But-’
‘I’ll talk to you soon, love.’ Jackie’s face disappeared from Rose’s screen.
Rose sighed and turned her attention to the security feed. ‘We need some time together?’ she muttered. ‘Is my own mother trying to get me l-oh!’ She stopped suddenly as she saw a figure enter the Tyler living room. ‘There you are,’ Rose murmured to herself.
Sigrún Vellamo had been Tony’s au pair for only a month, but already Jackie had installed nannycams and made Rose check up on her frequently. For no concrete reason she could articulate, Jackie had the sense that Sigrún wasn’t minding Tony as well as she could have been.
For her part, Rose had nothing against the woman, but Sigrún did have a strange, faraway look in her eyes sometimes. Rose didn’t suspect Sigrún was neglecting Tony, but she did worry the girl had boyfriend troubles that went beyond the usual. On occasion, Sigrún seemed to wear makeup that was far heavier than ordinary; Rose feared it covered bruises. Sigrún was a few years older than Rose herself, yet behaved like someone far less mature.
On the screen, the image of the au pair moved about the room slowly, pausing in front of a shelf of books. After a moment’s deliberation, she withdrew a slim volume and sat down to read.
It was almost always like this, when Rose checked the monitor feed. The worst she’d seen the girl do was steal a can of soda. She read, she played with Tony, she changed his pants, she fed him, and she occasionally cadged a few winks on the nursery sofa. That was it. Even seeing her read a book was unusual, as Sigrún very rarely seemed to take a few moments of joy for herself.
Rose dashed off a quick email to her mother. Just before she could manage to shut the monitor feed windows, she heard a flurry of footsteps and her name being called in alarm. With a gasp, she whirled her chair around.
‘Rose, we’ve got to go.’ The Doctor was hovering over her now, brow furrowed in deep concern. Gilbert Freeman, the Torchwood general support officer, was at his elbow, looking more perturbed than worried.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Your friend,’ Gilbert put in. ‘He thinks we’ve got a crisis brewing, but I told him it was really nothing.’
‘Nothing?!’ He whirled on Gilbert. ‘I got news for you, lad, it’s attitudes like yours that’ll be the end of this planet!’
Rose leapt to her feet and, without thinking, put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Calm down, now, the both of you,’ she said. Her hand moved down from the Doctor’s shoulder to his elbow, and she threaded her arm through his.
It was a gesture she’d made a thousand times, but now suddenly it struck her what she was doing. He looked down at her, his eyes wide.
She moved away, gracefully but deliberately, and she quickly averted her eyes from his.
Before she had a chance to say anything, the Doctor was plunging ahead, yammering on about some inexplicable danger, but she heard not a single word of it.
On her computer screen, Sigrún was setting up several pieces of laboratory glassware all along the Tylers’ formal dining table.
‘What the hell is she doing?!’ Rose gasped.
Both the Doctor and Gilbert gathered behind her. ‘Who’s that?’ Gilbert asked. ‘She’s quite fetching.’
‘She’s my brother’s nanny,’ Rose replied.
‘Is she also a chemistry student?’ the Doctor asked. ‘She’s got quite a set-up. That bit there,’ he said, tapping a corner of the screen, ‘that’s for controlling a vacuum.’
Rose frowned. ‘The only vacuum she’s s’posed to be controlling over there is the sort that picks up dust.’ She pulled her keys off her desk and whirled around to face both men. ‘You boys want to raid my mum’s fridge for lunch?’
INTERLUDE
7 July 2008
Dr. Heidi Walker
Torchwood Institute
1432 Bainbridge B.E.
London, UK
Dear Dr. Walker:
RE: John Smith, Patient 765B
Thank you for referring this patient, who was seen on 7 July, regarding his routine physical.
The findings on examination were as follows.
Patient (Mr. Smith) is Caucasian male, 1.85 metres in height. Mr. Smith reports inconclusive responses when asked his age (variously stating it as ‘nearly a thousand’ and ‘twenty-four hours,’ neither of which could be taken seriously); estimates by this physician based on dental condition and bone structure indicate between thirty-four and thirty-nine years as most likely range.
LABORATORY INVESTIGATIONS: Negative for all chronic and acute conditions. Heart rate within normal range. Breathing somewhat shallow. Allergic to penicillin and canine glycoprotein, though only mildly. Dental crossbite, simple low myopia (patient is supplied with magnification lenses at 1.5 power and reports excellent result in clarity increase), slight underweight at 68 kg (would like to see increase to ~80 kg) but reports no ill effects. Metabolism high; put in request to friend in attendance for a tea of kipper and toast following appointment. Blood, urine, and tissue samples all normal.
DIAGNOSIS: Reasonable fitness for male subject of his age. Recommend follow-up dental and ophthalmologist care. Recommend referral to allergist if lifestyle warrants. Recommend moderate increase of dietary carbohydrates and weight-bearing exercise in lieu of aerobic activity (patient reports ‘running,’ which is not recommended due to need to increase lipoproteins).
IMPRESSIONS AND INVESTIGATIONS: Mr. Smith’s constitution is in fine shape for ordinary activities related to his employment. Would be full-insurable and is generally acceptable example of typical human physiology.
Sincerely yours,
Avery O. Harper, M.D., Ph.D.
AOH:twi
CHAPTER THREE
Earlier in the Torchwood conference room, after Rose left, the Doctor stayed behind with Gilbert.
‘It’s not anything. Honestly. I don’t even know why Heidi insists on bringing it up.’ Gilbert turned nearly beet-red the moment he spoke her name aloud.
The Doctor grinned widely. ‘Oh, ho, what’s that there, eh, boyo? You’ve got a bit of a thing for her, don’t you?’
Oh, balls, was it that obvious? Gilbert laughed nervously. ‘Ha, no, certainly not. She’s... lord, she’s got to be a whole... year... or... something older than me. That’s just... Ha. Silly. She’d never look at me. Rubbish to even think of it.’
‘Yeaaahhhh...’ the Doctor drawled. ‘Women never go for blokes who weren’t even born yet when they were already teething.’
Gilbert sighed. ‘Sure it sounds funny when you put it that way,’ he mumbled.
‘But this Mysterious fellow,’ the Doctor said. ‘Back on point. What’s the story?’
Gilbert opened a file from amongst his papers on the table in front of him and pulled out a newspaper clipping. ‘It was from a show he did last September,’ Gilbert said. ‘Back before we started getting readings that the earth’s gravitational field was de-stabilising.’
The Doctor read for a moment. ‘And he’s still performing?’
‘Yeah. There’s another show tonight, actually, at the old Rhinebarry on Hearth Street.’
The clipping itself was an advertisement, crudely designed, for what appeared to be nothing more than a children’s magic show.
‘I’m not sure what the trouble is, just from this,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘Unless, of course, he’s still using the De Kolta vanishing bird cage. Nasty bit of business, that.’
‘The what?’
‘Trust me, let’s hope you don’t need to know. What is it Heidi thinks is wrong with this chap?’
‘A... well, it could all be coincidence...’
‘No such thing.’
Gilbert chuckled. ‘Never?’
‘Rarely. Most coincidences are actually perpetuated by the Friehume Collective from Colony Sector B.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘Although, I dunno if those exist in this universe.’ He shot up and looked out the window toward the sky. ‘D’you ever get snow in the mountains of Scotland?’
Gilbert shrugged. ‘I’d wager, yeah.’
The Doctor beamed. ‘Well, then, yeah, Friehumes at work here. No such thing as coincidence.’
This bloke was mad. Gilbert began to feel increasingly uneasy. ‘Er... all right...’
‘So! What is it the Friehumes are cloaking as simple coincidence, then, hmm?’
Gilbert pulled out more papers from his files. ‘Every performance, they sell exactly one hundred seats. No more, no less; if it’s less than that, they cancel the show, and even if the house seats more, they stop selling at a hundred.’
‘But.’
‘How’d you know there was going to be a “but”?’ Gilbert asked.
‘Your tone had “but” all over it, lad.’
Gilbert blanched. ‘Yeah, well, thing is, one hundred seats get sold, but only ninety-nine people ever come out.’
‘Somebody goes missing each show?’
‘That’s just it,’ Gilbert went on. ‘Everybody seems to be accounted for, but when you count ‘em...’
‘The maths are off.’
Gilbert began shoving his papers back into their files. ‘Told you it wasn’t anything,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why Heidi got all excited about it; it’s not even a case at all. Just folks who can’t count properly.’
The Doctor moved from the windows and took a seat across from Gilbert. ‘How’d you get clued into this in the first place?’
The corner of Gilbert’s mouth went up, and he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. ‘I’m not really the investigator sort, you got to understand that right off,’ he began. ‘I’m sort of everybody’s right hand bloke, you know? I do whatever needs to be done, but taking initiative isn’t exactly part of my job description.’
‘And yet you took it upon yourself to look into this one in the first place,’ the other man pointed out. ‘Why was that, then?’
Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut and sighed heavily. ‘I... well, it’s like this.’ He leaned in slightly. ‘You can’t say anything, not a word.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Especially not to...’ He gestured toward the seat at the head of the table.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t dream.’
Gilbert took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a... kind of... phobia.’
‘About magicians.’
Gilbert’s eyes grew huge. ‘How’d you know?’
‘Common enough thing,’ he replied. ‘Could be a form of rhabdophobia, or could be closer to coulrophobia if you associate magicians with other children’s entertainment, like clowns.’ He paused, and his eyes darkened slightly. ‘I’ve known people afraid of clowns before. You don’t so much need to worry, unless you find yourself on the planet Segonax.’
Gilbert blinked. ‘I don’t know whether to think you’re having me on or not,’ he said. ‘Just where exactly did you used to work before Torchwood, Mr. Smith?’
The other man shook his head. ‘I’m not going to get used to answering to that,’ he said.
‘Pardon?’
‘Technically, I’ve never worked anywhere.’
‘But-’
‘It’s too long a story, Gilbert. Back to your clown fear.’
‘Magicians, actually,’ Gilbert corrected. ‘I’m afraid of magicians.’
AUTHOR: QKellie
FANDOM: Doctor Who (and Torchwood to a lesser extent)
CHARACTERS: Rose Tyler, the Doctor, the Doctor ‘10.5’, Donna Noble, Jackie Tyler, Pete Tyler, Jake Simmonds, John Hart, Lucy Saxon, Harold Saxon, others
PAIRINGS: Rose/Doctor 10.5, Lucy Saxon/Harold Saxon (implied), Jake/Mickey (implied), others
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Gen/drama/romance
WARNINGS: Spoilers for DW through series 4 and TW series 2x01. OCs present but not used to ship with anyone besides other OCs. Moderate to extreme Doctor/Rose shippiness abounds. Discussions of angst, action, violence, and bisexuality, but at heart this is a genfic, honestly.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story takes a cut scene from DW’s series 4 finale as canon, but it does not depict it with a complete adherence to accuracy as it actually took place. TW spoilers spring up only after Chapter 23.
Prologues and Chapter One
CHAPTER TWO
It was true the trains had been running late, but Rose was also tardy to work because she hadn’t slept. The night before, after the first round of Torchwood visits involving more medical tests than job interviews, she’d left him back at her flat and gone to her folks’ for the night, ‘just to see Tony; you understand,’ but that hadn’t been it at all. She hadn’t wanted to even be under the same roof with him.
She had never imagined it would be this painful and odd.
And so she’d spent the night awake in her parents’ guest room, staring at the ceiling and pretending not to be pretending he was next to her.
‘I’m right here, Rose.’
‘You’re halfway across the galaxy on the other side of the void between the universes,’ she’d corrected him... herself... nobody. He’s not really here, not in this room, not in this city... stop dreaming...
She imagined him propping himself up on one elbow, wearing the ridiculous pajamas he’d had on after the first time she saw him regenerate. That tousled hair was all askew in haphazard peaks, but he sported more stubble than the Doctor ever had. ‘I’m here,’ he repeated. ‘I’m right here, and I lo-’
‘Don’t say it again,’ she’d interrupted. ‘I’ll... please, don’t say it again right now, not yet.’
‘You kissed me,’ he’d pointed out. ‘And I kissed you back. I don’t just go around kissing people, you know.’
She wanted to melt into him and take all the comfort from him she knew she ached for, but...
That was why she wasn’t at her own flat. Because she didn’t want to do anything irrevocable, not yet.
She should’ve taken a sick day and let him find his own way at Torchwood to start, but she did ultimately want to see him, even if it was just for a few uncomfortable moments. She’d gone two years without him, two years during which she thought she’d never see him again, and now...
Now she put her earpiece in and shoved all thoughts of him out of her head. She roused her computer from sleep mode and speed dialed Jackie’s cell. In moments, her mother’s face was staring back at her from her computer screen. ‘You’re early,’ Jackie told her. ‘Thought you weren’t going to ring me ‘til noon, darling.’
‘Got things to do later,’ Rose replied. ‘Besides, I figured if she knew we were checking in, she wouldn’t expect we’d do it this early, right?’
Jackie shrugged, then staggered a bit as she was brushed from behind by a blurry passer-by.
‘Where are you, anyway?’ Rose asked.
‘Trading floor. Bit busy today,’ Jackie told her. ‘You’ll have to let me go soon; I’ve got to bid on some Haroco for a client before it’s all gone.’
‘I don’t know why you want to work, ‘specially someplace so stressful,’ Rose mused. ‘Dad does well enough.’
Jackie huffed. ‘I spent twenty years workin’ dead-ends to raise you as a single mum, didn’t I? And now I got a chance to try any-bleeding-thing I want. D’you think I want to sit home every day and change nappies if I don’t have to?’
‘Yeah, but-’
‘I love you, I love Tony, and I love your dad, but I’m me own woman now, Rose Tyler, and I’m not apologizin’ to nobody for doin’ somethin’ that fulfills me.’
‘Of course not,’ Rose allowed.
‘Did I complain about you spending two years of your life traipsing around the galaxy?’
Rose laughed. ‘Yeah, actually, you did.’
Jackie smiled. ‘Well, all right, but no matter what, you got to leave me this, don’t you? I can’t be expected to freelance with Torchwood all the bloody time. I want to do some things that don’t involve aliens, after all.’
‘All right, all right.’ Rose clicked an icon on her desktop and pulled up a four-way split screen, each box filled with a password prompt floating above a field of black and white static. ‘What were your zone passwords again?’
‘Downstairs corridors are my birthday,’ Jackie said, ‘and then yours is the whole of upstairs.’
Rose grinned. ‘Ta.’
‘What, you think I ain’t a good mother?’
Rose entered the numbers into the password boxes, and the static in each screen cut to security feeds of the Tyler home.
‘You know you could do this yourself if you got an eHaro,’ Rose pointed out. ‘You can get streaming video on those right easy.’
‘Easier for you to monitor it, love.’ On Jackie’s end of the call, a bell started to sound. ‘Got to go, Rose. Trading time again. Email me the report, yeah?’
‘No problem,’ Rose said. ‘See you later.’
‘You’re coming back tonight?’
Rose paused. ‘I... I dunno...’
‘Don’t, darling,’ Jackie told her. ‘You two need some time together.’
‘But-’
‘I’ll talk to you soon, love.’ Jackie’s face disappeared from Rose’s screen.
Rose sighed and turned her attention to the security feed. ‘We need some time together?’ she muttered. ‘Is my own mother trying to get me l-oh!’ She stopped suddenly as she saw a figure enter the Tyler living room. ‘There you are,’ Rose murmured to herself.
Sigrún Vellamo had been Tony’s au pair for only a month, but already Jackie had installed nannycams and made Rose check up on her frequently. For no concrete reason she could articulate, Jackie had the sense that Sigrún wasn’t minding Tony as well as she could have been.
For her part, Rose had nothing against the woman, but Sigrún did have a strange, faraway look in her eyes sometimes. Rose didn’t suspect Sigrún was neglecting Tony, but she did worry the girl had boyfriend troubles that went beyond the usual. On occasion, Sigrún seemed to wear makeup that was far heavier than ordinary; Rose feared it covered bruises. Sigrún was a few years older than Rose herself, yet behaved like someone far less mature.
On the screen, the image of the au pair moved about the room slowly, pausing in front of a shelf of books. After a moment’s deliberation, she withdrew a slim volume and sat down to read.
It was almost always like this, when Rose checked the monitor feed. The worst she’d seen the girl do was steal a can of soda. She read, she played with Tony, she changed his pants, she fed him, and she occasionally cadged a few winks on the nursery sofa. That was it. Even seeing her read a book was unusual, as Sigrún very rarely seemed to take a few moments of joy for herself.
Rose dashed off a quick email to her mother. Just before she could manage to shut the monitor feed windows, she heard a flurry of footsteps and her name being called in alarm. With a gasp, she whirled her chair around.
‘Rose, we’ve got to go.’ The Doctor was hovering over her now, brow furrowed in deep concern. Gilbert Freeman, the Torchwood general support officer, was at his elbow, looking more perturbed than worried.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Your friend,’ Gilbert put in. ‘He thinks we’ve got a crisis brewing, but I told him it was really nothing.’
‘Nothing?!’ He whirled on Gilbert. ‘I got news for you, lad, it’s attitudes like yours that’ll be the end of this planet!’
Rose leapt to her feet and, without thinking, put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Calm down, now, the both of you,’ she said. Her hand moved down from the Doctor’s shoulder to his elbow, and she threaded her arm through his.
It was a gesture she’d made a thousand times, but now suddenly it struck her what she was doing. He looked down at her, his eyes wide.
She moved away, gracefully but deliberately, and she quickly averted her eyes from his.
Before she had a chance to say anything, the Doctor was plunging ahead, yammering on about some inexplicable danger, but she heard not a single word of it.
On her computer screen, Sigrún was setting up several pieces of laboratory glassware all along the Tylers’ formal dining table.
‘What the hell is she doing?!’ Rose gasped.
Both the Doctor and Gilbert gathered behind her. ‘Who’s that?’ Gilbert asked. ‘She’s quite fetching.’
‘She’s my brother’s nanny,’ Rose replied.
‘Is she also a chemistry student?’ the Doctor asked. ‘She’s got quite a set-up. That bit there,’ he said, tapping a corner of the screen, ‘that’s for controlling a vacuum.’
Rose frowned. ‘The only vacuum she’s s’posed to be controlling over there is the sort that picks up dust.’ She pulled her keys off her desk and whirled around to face both men. ‘You boys want to raid my mum’s fridge for lunch?’
INTERLUDE
7 July 2008
Dr. Heidi Walker
Torchwood Institute
1432 Bainbridge B.E.
London, UK
Dear Dr. Walker:
RE: John Smith, Patient 765B
Thank you for referring this patient, who was seen on 7 July, regarding his routine physical.
The findings on examination were as follows.
Patient (Mr. Smith) is Caucasian male, 1.85 metres in height. Mr. Smith reports inconclusive responses when asked his age (variously stating it as ‘nearly a thousand’ and ‘twenty-four hours,’ neither of which could be taken seriously); estimates by this physician based on dental condition and bone structure indicate between thirty-four and thirty-nine years as most likely range.
LABORATORY INVESTIGATIONS: Negative for all chronic and acute conditions. Heart rate within normal range. Breathing somewhat shallow. Allergic to penicillin and canine glycoprotein, though only mildly. Dental crossbite, simple low myopia (patient is supplied with magnification lenses at 1.5 power and reports excellent result in clarity increase), slight underweight at 68 kg (would like to see increase to ~80 kg) but reports no ill effects. Metabolism high; put in request to friend in attendance for a tea of kipper and toast following appointment. Blood, urine, and tissue samples all normal.
DIAGNOSIS: Reasonable fitness for male subject of his age. Recommend follow-up dental and ophthalmologist care. Recommend referral to allergist if lifestyle warrants. Recommend moderate increase of dietary carbohydrates and weight-bearing exercise in lieu of aerobic activity (patient reports ‘running,’ which is not recommended due to need to increase lipoproteins).
IMPRESSIONS AND INVESTIGATIONS: Mr. Smith’s constitution is in fine shape for ordinary activities related to his employment. Would be full-insurable and is generally acceptable example of typical human physiology.
Sincerely yours,
Avery O. Harper, M.D., Ph.D.
AOH:twi
CHAPTER THREE
Earlier in the Torchwood conference room, after Rose left, the Doctor stayed behind with Gilbert.
‘It’s not anything. Honestly. I don’t even know why Heidi insists on bringing it up.’ Gilbert turned nearly beet-red the moment he spoke her name aloud.
The Doctor grinned widely. ‘Oh, ho, what’s that there, eh, boyo? You’ve got a bit of a thing for her, don’t you?’
Oh, balls, was it that obvious? Gilbert laughed nervously. ‘Ha, no, certainly not. She’s... lord, she’s got to be a whole... year... or... something older than me. That’s just... Ha. Silly. She’d never look at me. Rubbish to even think of it.’
‘Yeaaahhhh...’ the Doctor drawled. ‘Women never go for blokes who weren’t even born yet when they were already teething.’
Gilbert sighed. ‘Sure it sounds funny when you put it that way,’ he mumbled.
‘But this Mysterious fellow,’ the Doctor said. ‘Back on point. What’s the story?’
Gilbert opened a file from amongst his papers on the table in front of him and pulled out a newspaper clipping. ‘It was from a show he did last September,’ Gilbert said. ‘Back before we started getting readings that the earth’s gravitational field was de-stabilising.’
The Doctor read for a moment. ‘And he’s still performing?’
‘Yeah. There’s another show tonight, actually, at the old Rhinebarry on Hearth Street.’
The clipping itself was an advertisement, crudely designed, for what appeared to be nothing more than a children’s magic show.
‘I’m not sure what the trouble is, just from this,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘Unless, of course, he’s still using the De Kolta vanishing bird cage. Nasty bit of business, that.’
‘The what?’
‘Trust me, let’s hope you don’t need to know. What is it Heidi thinks is wrong with this chap?’
‘A... well, it could all be coincidence...’
‘No such thing.’
Gilbert chuckled. ‘Never?’
‘Rarely. Most coincidences are actually perpetuated by the Friehume Collective from Colony Sector B.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘Although, I dunno if those exist in this universe.’ He shot up and looked out the window toward the sky. ‘D’you ever get snow in the mountains of Scotland?’
Gilbert shrugged. ‘I’d wager, yeah.’
The Doctor beamed. ‘Well, then, yeah, Friehumes at work here. No such thing as coincidence.’
This bloke was mad. Gilbert began to feel increasingly uneasy. ‘Er... all right...’
‘So! What is it the Friehumes are cloaking as simple coincidence, then, hmm?’
Gilbert pulled out more papers from his files. ‘Every performance, they sell exactly one hundred seats. No more, no less; if it’s less than that, they cancel the show, and even if the house seats more, they stop selling at a hundred.’
‘But.’
‘How’d you know there was going to be a “but”?’ Gilbert asked.
‘Your tone had “but” all over it, lad.’
Gilbert blanched. ‘Yeah, well, thing is, one hundred seats get sold, but only ninety-nine people ever come out.’
‘Somebody goes missing each show?’
‘That’s just it,’ Gilbert went on. ‘Everybody seems to be accounted for, but when you count ‘em...’
‘The maths are off.’
Gilbert began shoving his papers back into their files. ‘Told you it wasn’t anything,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why Heidi got all excited about it; it’s not even a case at all. Just folks who can’t count properly.’
The Doctor moved from the windows and took a seat across from Gilbert. ‘How’d you get clued into this in the first place?’
The corner of Gilbert’s mouth went up, and he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. ‘I’m not really the investigator sort, you got to understand that right off,’ he began. ‘I’m sort of everybody’s right hand bloke, you know? I do whatever needs to be done, but taking initiative isn’t exactly part of my job description.’
‘And yet you took it upon yourself to look into this one in the first place,’ the other man pointed out. ‘Why was that, then?’
Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut and sighed heavily. ‘I... well, it’s like this.’ He leaned in slightly. ‘You can’t say anything, not a word.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Especially not to...’ He gestured toward the seat at the head of the table.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t dream.’
Gilbert took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a... kind of... phobia.’
‘About magicians.’
Gilbert’s eyes grew huge. ‘How’d you know?’
‘Common enough thing,’ he replied. ‘Could be a form of rhabdophobia, or could be closer to coulrophobia if you associate magicians with other children’s entertainment, like clowns.’ He paused, and his eyes darkened slightly. ‘I’ve known people afraid of clowns before. You don’t so much need to worry, unless you find yourself on the planet Segonax.’
Gilbert blinked. ‘I don’t know whether to think you’re having me on or not,’ he said. ‘Just where exactly did you used to work before Torchwood, Mr. Smith?’
The other man shook his head. ‘I’m not going to get used to answering to that,’ he said.
‘Pardon?’
‘Technically, I’ve never worked anywhere.’
‘But-’
‘It’s too long a story, Gilbert. Back to your clown fear.’
‘Magicians, actually,’ Gilbert corrected. ‘I’m afraid of magicians.’