Prologue
To my little sister x
***
“Name of parent?”
“Aurea Hinata Haruno.”
“Do you accept the terms and conditions, Aurea Hinata Haruno?”
A shaky breath, and then, “I do.”
***
“Why don’t I have a mum and dad?”
It was a simple enough question, and one that must have run through every care-kid’s mind, but Lizzie, a little girl so often absorbed in her own thoughts or a good book that was advanced beyond her years, hardly seemed to worry about something so difficult, which is why it came as such a surprise to Maggie.
“Why do you ask?” she asked casually. They were in the garden of the care home, sitting on the rickety old wooden bench. Lizzie had her coat and red wellies on, because it had been raining, and she had wanted to play in the puddles. Maggie had acquiesced, and they had spent a good half-hour having fun before the girl had dropped the bombshell of a question.
Lizzie shrugged noncommittally, but her gaze was noticeably focused on the dirt on her wellies. “Jenny was teaching us about family, and Mei told us everything about her parents.”
“And you don’t know anything about yours,” Maggie surmised knowingly. “Did you feel left out?”
Lizzie nodded hesitantly.
Biting her lip, Maggie decided to broach further. “Do you remember anything about them? At all?”
“Not really,” she replied. “What happened to them? Why am I here?”
Maggie sighed, and looked down at the girl. Her gaze was still locked on her boots, and suddenly Maggie remembered how young she really was. How she still had her whole life ahead of her, and how she didn’t need the trauma of knowing about her past. Maggie would shield her from the truth for as long as she could, until she was ready to bear the brunt of the truth maturely.
“Come on,” Maggie said cheerily. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”
And Lizzie complied, albeit begrudgingly, because she had been taught to always listen to older people, even if it didn’t make her very happy. She grabbed hold of Maggie’s hand, squeezed it, hopped off the bench, and followed her as they re-entered the care home.
***
“For God’s sake, mum, are you hearing yourself?”
“Not so loudly, Mikey, she’ll hear you!” Maggie chided him as she rinsed a mug. “Honestly, why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“It’s bank holiday!” he spluttered incredulously. “That’s why every other kid in this place isn’t there either!”
They were both in the Dunsworth care home kitchen. Maggie had decided to help Pat out and clean the lunchtime dishes while he prepared everyone for their trip out. Mikey had dropped by out of the blue, attracting the attention of the children, and was currently lounging on a kitchen chair. He was sitting on the opposite end of the chair, his arms and head resting on the back support as an act of rebellion to conformity, much to his mother’s chagrin (even though she secretly applauded him).
“Look,” he started again. “All I wanna know is — why aren’t you telling her?”
“Because she isn’t ready!” Maggie replied. “She’s still so young, she has her whole life ahead of her! You were devastated when you found out about your father!”
“Even still, it’s taught me that keeping a secret like this from her is going to mess her up more!” Mikey argued. “C’mon, mum. You know I’m right.”
Maggie sighed resignedly, leaving the mug in the sink and turning the tap off. She waited until a few kids wandered by. ”You’re right. But I’m also right. She’s not like you, Mikey, Lizzie can get terribly sad sometimes,” she shifted uncomfortably. “I hate seeing her like that. She deserves better.”
“But—”
“Ten,” Maggie interrupted. “I’ll wait until she’s ten years old, and then I’ll tell her, okay?”
Mikey returned his head on his arms, a frown marring his usual cheery expression. “Fine,” he said begrudgingly. He clearly didn’t completely agree with his mother’s choice, but respected it nonetheless. He would tell Lizzie about the past himself if he were spiteful, but it wasn’t his place to tell the girl, and he didn’t know the complete story anyway.
“Now, tell me about Christie. How is she?”
“She moved away ages ago. I’m with Jordan now.”
Maggie tutted. “Honestly, dear, sometimes I just can’t keep up with you.”
The two shared a laugh, happy with the change of conversation. What they didn’t realise was that seven-year-old Lizzie Darwin was sitting on the staircase, staring at them through the gaps in the banister, a troubled expression etched on her face.
***
“I’ll shoot, mate!”
“Lizzie! Run!”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t touch that!”
“The light,” she whispered. “So bright. Like...a glow.”
***
Lizzie woke up.
There was something different about this instance, though, because (and she had compiled a list for this):
1) She didn’t feel groggy or lightheaded, as she often did when she managed to sleep. Her bleary eyes didn’t just flutter open, with her mind already set on a specific task, which varied from an actual idea to trying to figure out a feasible task so she didn’t feel annoyed with herself at the end of the day. Instead, it felt as if she were a newborn, staring out at the brand new world at her fingertips, ready for her to explore. It was strange, that because she wasn’t on Earth.
Well, that was possibly a lie. She was in a room of some sort. It was the only description she could pin down, and even then it didn’t ring true. The place was constantly blurry and shifting, her eyes couldn’t focus on a specific distinction. The colours changed before her very eyes, from green, to red, to purple, to a kaleidoscope of colours, to blue. The change was constant.
Anyways, 2) she was standing when she woke up. Lizzie could never stand straight if she was asleep, she would probably somehow crash into a lamp or collapse into a tangled heap.
That was, admittedly, a bit weird.
“Doctor?” she called out into the shifting fog, quietly hoping that he would answer. No such luck. “Anyone?”
“Oh, it’s silly, isn’t it?” a female voice tutted, startling Lizzie out of her seat. She took a moment to stare at the randomly materialising chair in bewilderment, before focusing on the new company. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could have sworn her brain stuttered a bit as she comprehended the absurdity of the woman in front of her.
“Maggie?”
Standing before her eyes was her former support worker Maggie Shepherd, except she looked younger. Not exceptionally so, but the difference between the lady before her eyes to the one she had last seen was clear. This Margaret’s hair was shorter, like a trendy early 21st Century haircut, and the lines and crow’s feet around her face weren’t as deep. A Maggie in her youth. Well, that was exaggerating a bit, but she was still recognisable.
She looked around, and realised she wasn’t in that weird limbo-state anymore. She was in a medium sized room with creamy white wallpaper, a set of windows to the side, a desk littered by paperwork and an ancient looking computer, and a row of drawers. She recognised it as Pat’s office.
“Maggie!” Lizzie tried again, expecting a response. She frowned when she didn’t receive one, and her frown only deepened when Maggie walked straight through her. It was an awkward sensation, and she was fairly sure it was just her brain overreaction, but she felt a cold chill wash over her. She rubbed her elbows and turned around to see Maggie floating around the room on a one-woman cleanup operation.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, you know,” Pat said as he entered the room. He also looked more youthful. There was a larger crop of hair on his head and his belly wasn’t as round, but he still had that same kind smile and the familiar bright twinkle in his eyes. “You’re a support worker, not our maid. Makes me feel bad.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie scoffed, and wave a hand dismissively. “I’m doing it on my own accord. Makes me feel useful. My boy’s growing up and is slowly moving on. Can’t let myself be left in the dust with nothing to do.”
“I get that,” Pat nodded as he collapsed in a wheelie chair. He did a 360 spin, rested his elbows on the desk, and smiled up at Maggie. “Marlowe’s just left the care home too. Fostered by a nice enough family. She’s happy, but I can’t help but feel —”
“A little sad,” Maggie hummed. “I get that. It’s bittersweet.”
“If it’s just a stray paper, why are you ogling it like that?” Pat asked, and Lizzie had to take a moment to process the fact that Pat just said ‘ogling’.
“Is that him?” Maggie showed Pat the piece of paper. Lizzie tried to look at it, but the words blurred whenever she tried to focus on the content. There was a moment of silence and mutual discomfort, before Maggie pressed on. “Mr Darwin?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Pat said in a small voice. Lizzie looked at them curiously. Mr Darwin was clearly her father, but why were they talking about him like that?
“I’d forgotten he looked like that,” Maggie admitted, and returned her attention to the slip. “Rather dishy, isn’t he?”
Pat raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know.”
Lizzie felt a tugging sensation in the back of her mind, urging her to turn. The impulse won out after a brief mental spar, and she turned to find a little girl hidden behind the shadow of the door-frame, peering into the room curiously. She had light, slightly curly and unruly brown hair and big, wide, curious eyes. She was clad in a little yellow coat and red wellies.
Oh. Lizzie felt the pit of her stomach drop slightly. It was her. A little child from her past, almost like a ghost lingering by a grave. It was a bit of a morbid analogy, but it was the best she could come up with.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Maggie asked, snapping Lizzie out of her thoughts.
No, she thought ruefully. No, you’re not.
“Yeah, I think you are,” Pat spoke up instead, and Lizzie wanted to bang her head against the door. Instead, her eyes remained on her miniature version, who had a look of dawning horror on her face. Lizzie remembered the events that led to her standing there very well. They had just finished lunch and were going to the bowling alley in town, one of the few times Lizzie felt like a part of a community, and she had toddled over to see what was taking Pat and Maggie so long. She couldn’t remember how long she had been standing there or how long it would take her to leave.
“Hm.” Maggie didn’t sound very convinced, but she opened a drawer and stuck the slip of paper haphazardly into Lizzie’s folder regardless. “I just feel like a fraud. A charlatan! I shouldn’t be keeping this from her.”
“If you don’t, no one else will,” Pat reminded her. “She’s still a child.”
“That’s what I said,” she chuckled.
“Well, then you’re right. A child like Lizzie deserves a happy ending, you and I both know that. And this? If you drop this bombshell on her now, she’ll never get that.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Maggie sighed. “Anyways, what are we doing standing out here for? Come on, let’s go get the herd rounded up for bowling!”
“Enthusiasm! Just what I like to hear!” Pat said brightly as he lumbered out the door with Maggie. Lizzie drifted after them, and cast an eye towards her younger counterpart, who was huddled behind the chair in the corner to avoid detection.
It was almost as if Lizzie could hear the same thoughts as her younger self, despite the fifteen or so year-gap in age. The connection was a strange feeling, and the Lizzies found themselves moving in tandem with each other, their steps synchronised, even if the younger version was unaware of the existence of the older one. The older Lizzie followed herself into the office, and merely watched as her younger self rummaged through the same drawer that Maggie had left open, before pulling out her file and spreading it on the desk. She pulled out the slip pf paper — a picture of a sharp-looking man with twinkling brown eyes and a million-dollar smile — her father. He was holding a small bundle carefully in his arms outside a hospital, and Lizzie couldn’t help the wave of nausea and revulsion that overcame her at the sight, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away.
Luckily, Maggie and Pat strode back into the room at that moment, chatting animatedly about a loser handbag, and they stopped at the sight of the child Lizzie quietly examining the paper.
At first, they didn’t say anything, but then Maggie let out a weary sigh, motioned for Pat to take the paper, and gently pried Lizzie away from the picture. “Oh, Elizabeth,” she sighed sadly.
She gave the photo to Pat, who deposited it in the file, and watched as Maggie led the little girl to a chair and sat her down. The child swung her feet back and forth quietly, her face impassive. There was no indication of her inner turmoil, nothing to warrant suspicion or suggest the pain and fear Lizzie felt inside. She could’ve easily gone on her way with a simple reprimand, and carry on with her day.
Of course, that was never going to happen, because Maggie wasn’t like most people. She pushed a strand of hair covering little Lizzie’s face, and tucked it behind her ear with a fond smile.
Lizzie couldn’t help the stray tear that leaked from her eye as a result. She swiped at it, and watched the proceedings, grateful to have Maggie Shepherd in her life. She listened intently, hanging onto the short, simple words that the woman carefully uttered, even though she was technically not supposed to be there.
“Something tells me that you’re very sad indeed.”
“Something tells me the same thing,” a voice echoed from behind her. Lizzie spun around instantly, and she was suddenly back in the strange void. She was surprised, but not concerned. She recognised the voice. She recognised the way the words rolled off their tongue, and the intonations, and the soft baritone voice. A man stood before her, the kind of man with a charismatic face, all schmoozing smiles and flashing pearly white teeth. He was dressed in a smart grey three-piece suit, like she always imagined he would be. In fact, he looked like he always did.
She took a deep breath, to steady herself.
The man smiled endearingly. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
“Hi, father,” she uttered quietly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
***
“Name of parent?”
“Aurea Hinata Haruno.”
“Do you accept the terms and conditions, Aurea Hinata Haruno?”
A shaky breath, and then, “I do.”
***
“Why don’t I have a mum and dad?”
It was a simple enough question, and one that must have run through every care-kid’s mind, but Lizzie, a little girl so often absorbed in her own thoughts or a good book that was advanced beyond her years, hardly seemed to worry about something so difficult, which is why it came as such a surprise to Maggie.
“Why do you ask?” she asked casually. They were in the garden of the care home, sitting on the rickety old wooden bench. Lizzie had her coat and red wellies on, because it had been raining, and she had wanted to play in the puddles. Maggie had acquiesced, and they had spent a good half-hour having fun before the girl had dropped the bombshell of a question.
Lizzie shrugged noncommittally, but her gaze was noticeably focused on the dirt on her wellies. “Jenny was teaching us about family, and Mei told us everything about her parents.”
“And you don’t know anything about yours,” Maggie surmised knowingly. “Did you feel left out?”
Lizzie nodded hesitantly.
Biting her lip, Maggie decided to broach further. “Do you remember anything about them? At all?”
“Not really,” she replied. “What happened to them? Why am I here?”
Maggie sighed, and looked down at the girl. Her gaze was still locked on her boots, and suddenly Maggie remembered how young she really was. How she still had her whole life ahead of her, and how she didn’t need the trauma of knowing about her past. Maggie would shield her from the truth for as long as she could, until she was ready to bear the brunt of the truth maturely.
“Come on,” Maggie said cheerily. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”
And Lizzie complied, albeit begrudgingly, because she had been taught to always listen to older people, even if it didn’t make her very happy. She grabbed hold of Maggie’s hand, squeezed it, hopped off the bench, and followed her as they re-entered the care home.
***
“For God’s sake, mum, are you hearing yourself?”
“Not so loudly, Mikey, she’ll hear you!” Maggie chided him as she rinsed a mug. “Honestly, why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“It’s bank holiday!” he spluttered incredulously. “That’s why every other kid in this place isn’t there either!”
They were both in the Dunsworth care home kitchen. Maggie had decided to help Pat out and clean the lunchtime dishes while he prepared everyone for their trip out. Mikey had dropped by out of the blue, attracting the attention of the children, and was currently lounging on a kitchen chair. He was sitting on the opposite end of the chair, his arms and head resting on the back support as an act of rebellion to conformity, much to his mother’s chagrin (even though she secretly applauded him).
“Look,” he started again. “All I wanna know is — why aren’t you telling her?”
“Because she isn’t ready!” Maggie replied. “She’s still so young, she has her whole life ahead of her! You were devastated when you found out about your father!”
“Even still, it’s taught me that keeping a secret like this from her is going to mess her up more!” Mikey argued. “C’mon, mum. You know I’m right.”
Maggie sighed resignedly, leaving the mug in the sink and turning the tap off. She waited until a few kids wandered by. ”You’re right. But I’m also right. She’s not like you, Mikey, Lizzie can get terribly sad sometimes,” she shifted uncomfortably. “I hate seeing her like that. She deserves better.”
“But—”
“Ten,” Maggie interrupted. “I’ll wait until she’s ten years old, and then I’ll tell her, okay?”
Mikey returned his head on his arms, a frown marring his usual cheery expression. “Fine,” he said begrudgingly. He clearly didn’t completely agree with his mother’s choice, but respected it nonetheless. He would tell Lizzie about the past himself if he were spiteful, but it wasn’t his place to tell the girl, and he didn’t know the complete story anyway.
“Now, tell me about Christie. How is she?”
“She moved away ages ago. I’m with Jordan now.”
Maggie tutted. “Honestly, dear, sometimes I just can’t keep up with you.”
The two shared a laugh, happy with the change of conversation. What they didn’t realise was that seven-year-old Lizzie Darwin was sitting on the staircase, staring at them through the gaps in the banister, a troubled expression etched on her face.
***
“I’ll shoot, mate!”
“Lizzie! Run!”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t touch that!”
“The light,” she whispered. “So bright. Like...a glow.”
***
Lizzie woke up.
There was something different about this instance, though, because (and she had compiled a list for this):
1) She didn’t feel groggy or lightheaded, as she often did when she managed to sleep. Her bleary eyes didn’t just flutter open, with her mind already set on a specific task, which varied from an actual idea to trying to figure out a feasible task so she didn’t feel annoyed with herself at the end of the day. Instead, it felt as if she were a newborn, staring out at the brand new world at her fingertips, ready for her to explore. It was strange, that because she wasn’t on Earth.
Well, that was possibly a lie. She was in a room of some sort. It was the only description she could pin down, and even then it didn’t ring true. The place was constantly blurry and shifting, her eyes couldn’t focus on a specific distinction. The colours changed before her very eyes, from green, to red, to purple, to a kaleidoscope of colours, to blue. The change was constant.
Anyways, 2) she was standing when she woke up. Lizzie could never stand straight if she was asleep, she would probably somehow crash into a lamp or collapse into a tangled heap.
That was, admittedly, a bit weird.
“Doctor?” she called out into the shifting fog, quietly hoping that he would answer. No such luck. “Anyone?”
“Oh, it’s silly, isn’t it?” a female voice tutted, startling Lizzie out of her seat. She took a moment to stare at the randomly materialising chair in bewilderment, before focusing on the new company. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could have sworn her brain stuttered a bit as she comprehended the absurdity of the woman in front of her.
“Maggie?”
Standing before her eyes was her former support worker Maggie Shepherd, except she looked younger. Not exceptionally so, but the difference between the lady before her eyes to the one she had last seen was clear. This Margaret’s hair was shorter, like a trendy early 21st Century haircut, and the lines and crow’s feet around her face weren’t as deep. A Maggie in her youth. Well, that was exaggerating a bit, but she was still recognisable.
She looked around, and realised she wasn’t in that weird limbo-state anymore. She was in a medium sized room with creamy white wallpaper, a set of windows to the side, a desk littered by paperwork and an ancient looking computer, and a row of drawers. She recognised it as Pat’s office.
“Maggie!” Lizzie tried again, expecting a response. She frowned when she didn’t receive one, and her frown only deepened when Maggie walked straight through her. It was an awkward sensation, and she was fairly sure it was just her brain overreaction, but she felt a cold chill wash over her. She rubbed her elbows and turned around to see Maggie floating around the room on a one-woman cleanup operation.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, you know,” Pat said as he entered the room. He also looked more youthful. There was a larger crop of hair on his head and his belly wasn’t as round, but he still had that same kind smile and the familiar bright twinkle in his eyes. “You’re a support worker, not our maid. Makes me feel bad.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie scoffed, and wave a hand dismissively. “I’m doing it on my own accord. Makes me feel useful. My boy’s growing up and is slowly moving on. Can’t let myself be left in the dust with nothing to do.”
“I get that,” Pat nodded as he collapsed in a wheelie chair. He did a 360 spin, rested his elbows on the desk, and smiled up at Maggie. “Marlowe’s just left the care home too. Fostered by a nice enough family. She’s happy, but I can’t help but feel —”
“A little sad,” Maggie hummed. “I get that. It’s bittersweet.”
“If it’s just a stray paper, why are you ogling it like that?” Pat asked, and Lizzie had to take a moment to process the fact that Pat just said ‘ogling’.
“Is that him?” Maggie showed Pat the piece of paper. Lizzie tried to look at it, but the words blurred whenever she tried to focus on the content. There was a moment of silence and mutual discomfort, before Maggie pressed on. “Mr Darwin?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Pat said in a small voice. Lizzie looked at them curiously. Mr Darwin was clearly her father, but why were they talking about him like that?
“I’d forgotten he looked like that,” Maggie admitted, and returned her attention to the slip. “Rather dishy, isn’t he?”
Pat raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know.”
Lizzie felt a tugging sensation in the back of her mind, urging her to turn. The impulse won out after a brief mental spar, and she turned to find a little girl hidden behind the shadow of the door-frame, peering into the room curiously. She had light, slightly curly and unruly brown hair and big, wide, curious eyes. She was clad in a little yellow coat and red wellies.
Oh. Lizzie felt the pit of her stomach drop slightly. It was her. A little child from her past, almost like a ghost lingering by a grave. It was a bit of a morbid analogy, but it was the best she could come up with.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Maggie asked, snapping Lizzie out of her thoughts.
No, she thought ruefully. No, you’re not.
“Yeah, I think you are,” Pat spoke up instead, and Lizzie wanted to bang her head against the door. Instead, her eyes remained on her miniature version, who had a look of dawning horror on her face. Lizzie remembered the events that led to her standing there very well. They had just finished lunch and were going to the bowling alley in town, one of the few times Lizzie felt like a part of a community, and she had toddled over to see what was taking Pat and Maggie so long. She couldn’t remember how long she had been standing there or how long it would take her to leave.
“Hm.” Maggie didn’t sound very convinced, but she opened a drawer and stuck the slip of paper haphazardly into Lizzie’s folder regardless. “I just feel like a fraud. A charlatan! I shouldn’t be keeping this from her.”
“If you don’t, no one else will,” Pat reminded her. “She’s still a child.”
“That’s what I said,” she chuckled.
“Well, then you’re right. A child like Lizzie deserves a happy ending, you and I both know that. And this? If you drop this bombshell on her now, she’ll never get that.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Maggie sighed. “Anyways, what are we doing standing out here for? Come on, let’s go get the herd rounded up for bowling!”
“Enthusiasm! Just what I like to hear!” Pat said brightly as he lumbered out the door with Maggie. Lizzie drifted after them, and cast an eye towards her younger counterpart, who was huddled behind the chair in the corner to avoid detection.
It was almost as if Lizzie could hear the same thoughts as her younger self, despite the fifteen or so year-gap in age. The connection was a strange feeling, and the Lizzies found themselves moving in tandem with each other, their steps synchronised, even if the younger version was unaware of the existence of the older one. The older Lizzie followed herself into the office, and merely watched as her younger self rummaged through the same drawer that Maggie had left open, before pulling out her file and spreading it on the desk. She pulled out the slip pf paper — a picture of a sharp-looking man with twinkling brown eyes and a million-dollar smile — her father. He was holding a small bundle carefully in his arms outside a hospital, and Lizzie couldn’t help the wave of nausea and revulsion that overcame her at the sight, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away.
Luckily, Maggie and Pat strode back into the room at that moment, chatting animatedly about a loser handbag, and they stopped at the sight of the child Lizzie quietly examining the paper.
At first, they didn’t say anything, but then Maggie let out a weary sigh, motioned for Pat to take the paper, and gently pried Lizzie away from the picture. “Oh, Elizabeth,” she sighed sadly.
She gave the photo to Pat, who deposited it in the file, and watched as Maggie led the little girl to a chair and sat her down. The child swung her feet back and forth quietly, her face impassive. There was no indication of her inner turmoil, nothing to warrant suspicion or suggest the pain and fear Lizzie felt inside. She could’ve easily gone on her way with a simple reprimand, and carry on with her day.
Of course, that was never going to happen, because Maggie wasn’t like most people. She pushed a strand of hair covering little Lizzie’s face, and tucked it behind her ear with a fond smile.
Lizzie couldn’t help the stray tear that leaked from her eye as a result. She swiped at it, and watched the proceedings, grateful to have Maggie Shepherd in her life. She listened intently, hanging onto the short, simple words that the woman carefully uttered, even though she was technically not supposed to be there.
“Something tells me that you’re very sad indeed.”
“Something tells me the same thing,” a voice echoed from behind her. Lizzie spun around instantly, and she was suddenly back in the strange void. She was surprised, but not concerned. She recognised the voice. She recognised the way the words rolled off their tongue, and the intonations, and the soft baritone voice. A man stood before her, the kind of man with a charismatic face, all schmoozing smiles and flashing pearly white teeth. He was dressed in a smart grey three-piece suit, like she always imagined he would be. In fact, he looked like he always did.
She took a deep breath, to steady herself.
The man smiled endearingly. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
“Hi, father,” she uttered quietly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
series 5 - episode 4
forevermore
written by zoe lance
Drew Darwin, a man as posh as his name suggested; combed black hair, crease-free blue shirt and impeccable grey suit. He had little indulgent half-smile perpetually stitched onto his face, as if he were constantly amused by a notion, but didn’t wish to enlighten his cohorts.Lizzie reckoned he was the walking definition of meticulous, in every sense of the word. Including control freak.
“You look very nice today,” he said in a sort of non-committal tone, as if he was just saying it because it was customary, and not because he had any conviction behind his words.
“Thanks. You too, in a posh kind of way,” Lizzie responded just as evasively. “Really dapper, actually.”
“Thank you,” Drew smiled, and gestured towards a round oak table with two seats opposite each other. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“No, no, Eliza, I insist,” Drew persisted, and pulled the chair closest to her out as if to prove a point. “Ladies first.”
“Thanks,” Lizzie muttered. All things considered, she was immensely proud of herself for managing to maintain her relaxed facade, when she was secretly masking her inner turmoil and anxiety. The simple action of sitting down to have chat with her father had been twisted by the entire situation. She was never in any contact with her father, and suddenly he was here, in an ever-changing lucid realm as if it were perfectly normal.
Drew sat in the opposite seat, his smile never wavering. “So, you know who I am.”
“Yeah, since I was seven.” Lizzie confirmed, before she lapsed back into silence. She nervously drummed her fingers against the oak table to generate some noise to block out the stifling silence without verbal communication.
“Ah.” He sniffed unnecessarily, before asking, “Would you like some tea, Eliza?”
“Lizzie,” she corrected. “And why?”
“Well, you look thirsty.”
“I’m not, really.”
He looked at her then, properly looked at her. A frown marred his expression, the kind of frown she expected parents used whenever their children weren’t behaving the way they wanted them to. He didn’t let it show in his voice, maintaining his calm, clinical tone. “Well, I am.”
“Okay,” she shrugged, trying to determine what made him tick. What made her father tick. “What is this place anyway?” Lizzie’s eyes drifted around the dark realm. It was completely bare, but there were thin trails of sinewy mist roiling across the air, converging onto the table in front of them and producing a fresh cup of tea. “It’s so…surreal.”
“Who knows,” Drew shrugged. “Maybe it’s where we all go after death.”
Lizzie considered. “That would be nice.”
“Maybe you dreamt this all up.”
She laughed at the thought. “Who? Me? I don’t really think so.”
“I dunno. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, as they say.”
“People don’t say that anymore.”
“Don’t they?” he frowned again. “Ah well. Point stills stands, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Why not?” he asked, and this time Lizzie could detect a faint growl. He was starting to slip. “Why won’t you let me in, Eliza?”
“It’s Lizzie.”
He leaned back, and waved his hand dismissively. “Sounds like a YouTuber. Eliza sounds proper.”
“Oh, that’s good. As long as it’s proper.” Lizzie scowled, properly miffed. “And how am I not letting you in? We’ve only been talking for two minutes!”
“It’s the way you look at me,” Drew tutted. “It’s as if you’re annoyed with me.”
Lizzie was starting to find him a little obnoxious. She had every right to be angry with him. “Don’t do that.”
He looked at her innocently. “Do what?”
“Try to belittle me. I won’t stand for it from you.”
“Fine,” he shrugged quickly. Lizzie noted that he preferred to avoid confrontation. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay,” she leaned back, and finally grabbed a cup of tea. Drew mirrored her when the mist produced another cup of tea. The white tea cup was porcelain with those embroidered flower patterns that she always saw on TV shows. She tilted the cup slightly, and the warm liquid sloshed to the side. Looking up at Drew, she waited until he took a sip before taking her own.
“Surprised?” Drew smiled when Lizzie pulled the cup from her mouth and stared at it. “Earl Grey.”
“My favourite,” Lizzie murmured. “How did it do that?”
“No idea,” Drew shrugged. “Maybe it just makes your favourite things. Or maybe this is all simulated.”
“Yeah,” she took another sip. “Maybe.”
They sat there in silence for several minutes, simply drinking tea. Lizzie watched him carefully, noticing the way Drew held the cup tightly in his hands before raising it to his lips, as if he were worried about staining his (probably expensive) shirt. He would then move the cup away and swipe at his bottom lip to wipe off any residue.
She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Can I ask you something? I’ve been meaning to for ages.”
“Oh?” his eyes sparkled as he mimicked her posture. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What’s this? A question about how I met your mother? Or maybe it’s about your grandparents, or what my job —”
“What are you doing here?” she interrupted abruptly. Hiding how amused she was when his mouth hung open in surprise, Lizzie looked at him pointedly.
He coughed, set his cup down, leaned in, and looked her straight in the eye. “That can go two ways, you know.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, me first,” he smiled that obnoxiously pearly white smile again..”What are you doing here?”
Lizzie slouched in her chair, and considered his question. “Where to begin? I know, let’s start…”
***
When the Doctor awoke, he was greeted by an overpowering golden glow, and immediately assumed the worst. He was regenerating. It was the only explanation. It was okay, he had lived a good life, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. He had grown rather attached to this body, all of the experiences he had endured, and all the friends he had made — they would stay with him forever. He let out a contented sigh. He wondered what his next body would look like, how Cioné would react, and whether he would finally become --
A sharp slap was inflicted on his right cheek, and the sound reverberated loudly off the walls. He was, quite frankly, in shock. The golden glow was replaced by a very irate-looking woman, wielding a golden pen light. Oh.
“Well,” he managed. “This is all rather embarrassing.”
“Chasya, what are you playing at?” a red haired woman popped her head round the door and glared. The same woman, the Doctor realised in his groggy haze, who had led the gaggle that been eyeing him suspiciously on the street.
“I thought he was perving!” Chasya exclaimed indignantly. “He was making weird noises and everything!”
“You’re meant to help the injured, not give them a concussion!” the red haired lady yelled.
“I know, I know! I’m sorry!”
“Just patch him up so we can get out of here. The kids are getting restless.”
Chasya watched as the woman exited the room, before turning to glare at the Doctor, who was staring back at her in curiosity. “Nice one, perv.”
“I’m not a perv,” the Doctor replied calmly, his fingers brushing over his stomach with a thoughtful frown. There was no pain and he hadn’t regenerated, which was good, but he knew that the stab wound wasn’t superficial. It had been fatal, and yet here he was.
“Yeah, sure, that’s why you keep touching yourself, is it?” Chasya smacked his arm away. “Cut that out already! I’ve already patched up the wound.”
“Patched me up?” the Doctor’s voice rose in surprise. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“None of your business how!” she retorted. “Who the hell are you anyway?”
“I’m the Doctor, who are you?”
“Chasya Tomkins.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of name is Doctor?”
“A lovely one,” he replied easily with a smile. “Chasya’s a lovely name too.”
“Oh, cheers.”
“How did you do it, then?”
Chasya rolled her eyes. “Oh, just button it, would you? I ain’t telling you.”
The Doctor scowled somewhat petulantly. “Why not!”
“Cos I ain’t giving secrets away to some random perv!”
“You managed to patch up a stab wound perfectly, I just want to know the technique for later use!” the Doctor exclaimed. “And for the last time, I’m not a perv!”
Chasya sighed in exasperation. “Look, we have no idea who you are. For all we know, you could be working for them and trying to attain our secrets, get it?”
“Them? Who’s them?” the Doctor’s hand traced over his stomach again as he considered his own question. “Aldora Baggot?”
“And co, yeah,” she replied. There was a steady rapping on the door that caught their attention; three urgent knocks in quick succession. Chasya stood up as soon as the knocking stopped. “Look, it ain’t safe here. If you want some shelter, we can get you that, but if you’re just gonna keep yapping on about our techniques, then get lost and stop wasting our time.”
“What I want, Miss Tomkins, is to find my friend and maybe get some answers,” the Doctor responded as he rose to his feet. He marvelled at the full recovery for a few seconds, and made a mental note to scan himself when he got back to the TARDIS, but right now he had to focus on other things. “Where is Lizzie Darwin?”
Chasya tilted her head in puzzlement. “Lizzie who?”
***
Fortuna Gladstone, a woman with a personality as fiery as her bright red hair, surveyed the scene before her with apprehension. They had been on a routine prowl around the streets as they waited for the signal from their captured comrade when they had spotted their target, Aldora Baggot, traipsing down the street with an unknown man. They had regarded them with suspicion, and trailed after them to avoid detection. The pair had entered the old orphanage, so the group was split into two; Fortuna led one team through the front door, while Chasya led the other through the back entrance.
They had converged into the main hallway to find Aldora’s accomplice slumped on the floor with a visible knife wound to the stomach, and the blurred children standing motionlessly over him. There had been no sign of their target.
Now, the children were getting restless and starting to file out of the building, as if they were being summoned. They walked silently, monotonously, and in two single files. It was a militaristic display that made Fortuna want to growl in frustration.
At that moment, the Doctor and Chasya barged through the door, embroiled in an argument of some sort. Fortuna stopped them, and crossed her arms.
“Would you two keep it down?” she hissed. “If we disrupt the movement now, we may never find her.”
“Who?” the Doctor asked.
“I told you it’s none of your business,” Chasya exclaimed. She smiled meekly when Fortuna glared at her. “Sorry. But still, point stands, Doctor!”
“A Doctor?” Fortuna said. “Of what?”
“Of everything,” replied the Doctor coolly. “Have you seen Lizzie?”
“Who?”
“Presumably not,” the Doctor murmured, his mouth a thin line. He glanced around the room. Women of different skin colour, hair colour and height were prowling around the room at different paces, talking quietly to each other or overturning dusty old furniture. However, the thing that caught the Doctor’s eye was the fact that they were all dressed in the same black body armour beneath billowing hooded black cloaks. “So,” he turned back to Fortuna and Chasya. “If I’m the Doctor, who are you?”
“Fortuna Gladstone,” Fortuna replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“Well, yes, very nice to meet you, but I meant collectively,” the Doctor responded, gesturing broadly across the room. “You’re all clearly part of an organisation of some sort. Which one? Have I heard of it?”
“None of your business,” Chasya snapped.
“Oh, a secret organisation!” he sounded almost gleeful. “That’s okay, I know most of them.”
Suddenly, there was a violent rumble that threw the Doctor off his feet and knocked him to the ground. Debris and dust sprinkled down from the ceiling above and the rusty old chandelier above teetered back-and-forth dangerously before coming to a sudden stop. The Doctor pushed himself to his feet, and was rather perplexed to find the women had managed to remain upright.
“Transport rings?” someone murmured. “But I don’t feel sick.”
“Did anyone hear the storm?” said another.
“Huh. I didn’t, actually,” Chasya replied.
“They’re on the move!” a dark-skinned woman by the entrance yelled. Fortuna and Chasya both pushed past him, and the Doctor took note of the bows slung across their shoulders.
He frowned, reaching into his pocket to produce his sonic screwdriver. “The children? But they’re inanimate.”
“Were inanimate,” Fortuna corrected. “They never stay in one place for more than two days or so. It’s like someone wants to keep them hidden. We keep an eye on them at all times.”
“Well, how does that work?” the Doctor asked. He was still fumbling inside his pocket. “And has anyone seen my sonic screwdriver?”
“Your what?”
“My tool. Non-lethal — emits sonic waves and vibrations; designed like a torch.”
“Vibrations, huh?” Chasya grinned broadly as they neared the back door. Fortuna prised it open with her bow, and she and her team filed out, leaving the Doctor behind with the blonde medic. “I can give you a much better description of your…’tool’.”
The Doctor frowned. “Eh?”
“Come on, you can’t be that dense if you’re such a p—”
“No, no, not that,” the Doctor hushed her. He squinted in the bright sunlight. “Where are we?”
The dingy streets that he had landed in were gone, replaced by an expansive city with gleaming, corporate steel-like tower complexes and long stretches of luscious green grass illuminated by the bright orange sun beaming from above. The Doctor whirled on the spot, trying to commit the new area to memory, whilst simultaneously wracking his brain on where he could locate Lizzie.
“Oh, we’re on the upper levels,” Chasya noted calmly. She looked around with a wrinkled nose, as if disgusted by her surroundings.
“Upper levels?”
“Yup. City’s split into two districts — upper and lower. The Upper District — this place — is basically for all the posh and rich, and those that can’t afford live here get shoved down below, the Lower District.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, aghast at the notion. “Whyever would you do that?”
“We don’t make the rules,” Fortuna interjected as she strode towards them. “But that doesn’t mean we approve or abide by them. Doctor, you’re an off-worlder, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” he nodded. “Me and my friend.”
“Lizzie,” she presumed. “Look, we’ll keep an eye out for her, even tell her to meet you at some specific location if you want.”
“You talk as if this is where we part ways, Fortuna,” the Doctor noted.
“That’s because it is,” she responded coolly, unfazed by the scowl that suddenly marred the Doctor’s expression. “Look, I don’t care if you like that or not, but you managed to get duped and stabbed by our target. You’re a liability, and we don’t need that. We have a mission to complete and a target to apprehend.” She spun on her heels and started to walk in the direction of a gleaming tower. “Chasya, with me.”
“I can help,” the Doctor called out after them. A frown marred his expression when Fortuna didn’t even break stride. Chasya glanced briefly at him before hurrying after the group of women, leaving the Time Lord alone on the street. He looked back at the decrepit building, a hand subconsciously on his stomach, before he whirled around and followed the group.
***
“What then?”
Lizzie glared at him. “If you have some patience, you’ll find out.”
“You know what, how do you even know this?” Drew continued, ignoring her entirely. “You weren’t even there.”
“How do you look twenty years younger than you should be? In the same suit and haircut from the picture — the only picture — I’ve ever seen of you?” Lizzie challenged. Drew opened his mouth to retort, considered her question, and, in that typical businessman way, gave her a sniff and an appreciative nod that indicated that he had no answer but would draw out the conversation in a way to lessen the loss. “None of this makes sense, but I remember it. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but just…just let me speak.”
“Fine.” He raised another porcelain cup to his lips, a cup Lizzie hadn’t even noticed before. “So, what happened next, Eliza?”
“Lizzie,” she corrected. “Well…”
***
Fortuna crouched behind the grey slanted wall, hood up, and cautiously poked her head out. The sisterhood had dispersed across the street, hidden behind several buildings and bin chutes to avoid detection. The faceless children were still walking in orderly rows, their feet marching in unison, and their every move closely monitored by several sleek grey machines that reminded Fortuna of toasters with arms: the spin-droids. She raised three fingers, and when she had finished counting down, she leapt from her spot, grabbed an arrow from her quiver and notched it into her bow, before releasing it one fluid motion. The arrow lodged itself straight through the eye of a spin-droid, alerting the others. Before they could react, a flurry of arrows rained down on them and struck them through their circuitry, leaving behind sparking, stuttering lumps of metal and wires.
The children continued their course, oblivious to the action. They were precise in their methods, and none of the youngsters had been hurt in the attack. Fortuna cautiously kicked a spin-droid with the toe of her boot, and sighed in exasperation when Chasya leaped over the bin chute and landed on another with a crunch, a victorious grin on her face.
“Satisfied?” Fortuna asked.
“Oh yeah,” Chasya replied, kicking another droid excitedly. “Still got that rush, you know?”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” She lowered her hood and tilted her head to the side so that she was eyeing the street behind her with her peripheral vision. “But you knew that, didn’t you, Doctor?”
The Doctor shuffled out of his hiding spot, a shop sign, soon after. He grimaced at the scene of destruction before him, the devastation left in the wake of the sisterhood. His eyes drifted up, and he looked at Fortuna, her bright red hair shining radiantly in the glow of the orange sunlight, with more interest in his appearance than the carnage at her feet. He couldn’t help but liken her to a vengeful Valkyrie.
“You’re very observant, Fortuna,” he said.
“You sound surprised,” she replied.
He eyed the destruction by her feet again. “Perhaps I am.”
“What you looking for?” Chasya demanded, her bow and arrow trained on him in an instant.
The Doctor raised his hands diplomatically. “Nothing. Just assessing the situation.”
“Impressed?” Fortuna asked.
“Unnerved. And curious,” he admitted with a frown. “Can I…?” He stepped closer when Fortuna nodded, and ran a hand along a destroyed Spin-Droid. He tore the head shell apart and fished out a red capsule device. “Ah, I thought so.”
“What is it?” Chasya asked suspiciously, her bow still trained on the Time Lord.
“Wireless controller,” the Doctor explained, twisting his arm so his palm and the device were visible.
Chasya lowered her bow and peered at it. “That thing?” she replied, unconvinced. “It’s tiny!”
“Which means that nobody would notice them.”
“Aldora,” Fortuna glowered. “It has to be.”
“Yes, Miss Baggot.” The Doctor looked at the red-haired hunter. “We both seem to be after her, but for different reasons — and clearly on different ends of the violence spectrum. Why? Who exactly are you people?”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?” Fortuna mused. She was staring at him now, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. The women were all standing around him now, in a circle that provided fewer means of escape than were previously offered to him. Eventually, she sighed and said, “Fine, but then you have to keep out of our way, and terminate your hunt for Aldora Baggot.”
“Of course.”
She didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Well…where to start? We’re—”
“Hold up,” Chasya interrupted, and pulled a bleeping device from her cloak pocket. It was a rudimentary communication device, with a glowing red tip and a flip-interface. A blue screen materialised in the air, with a detailed map and a red marker pinpointing a location on the outskirts of the upper level district of New Earth. “We’ve got a lead on her accomplice. Haruno’s just activated the scanner.”
“You go,” Fortuna replied. “She might need medical assistance. The rest of you go with her, you all know how dangerous the Dealer is.”
The Doctor looked at her in bewilderment. “The Dealer? Who’s the Dealer?”
“Her accomplice. I’ll explain later.”
“And the kids?” a dark-skinned woman asked cautiously.
“I’ll watch them, Amaya,” Fortuna reassured her. “Now go, you guys. Bring her back safe.”
“We’ll try,” Chasya replied, pocketed her device and turned to the four women beside her. “This way, ladies.”
In one swift motion, the group of five disappeared, leaving the Doctor alone with the remaining member, Fortuna. He would have jumped to the conclusion that they had merely teleported if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of the group of shadows that travelled above his head. He looked up, and caught sight of a billowing black cloak.
He turned to his newest acquaintance with a raised eyebrow. “They jumped from building to building.”
“Yes, they did,” Fortuna replied coolly.
“Tall, corporate office-like buildings and gleaming yellow skyscrapers,” he stressed. A huff of disbelieving laughter left his lips when Fortuna merely shrugged at his observation. “I ask again — who are you?”
***
“Well, who were they?” Drew looked at her expectantly. “Out with it!”
“Not just yet,” Lizzie responded. “I have a question first.”
Drew sighed a patronising sigh, as if she had stained her shirt with tea. “Go on then.”
“Okay, so…” Lizzie wondered about how she was going to tackle this. “The other… issue. Do you know what happened to Mum?”
She felt it important, that this should be a conversation they should have. After all, if they had this chance to talk, who better to discuss than one of the few mutual contacts they had ever shared?
“I wonder if it was the lack of a male role-model that led you to be… like you are,” Drew mused. It seemed he had very little interest in discussing Lizzie’s Mum – except, Lizzie knew that he did. She could see that Drew was well aware the topic was going to be discussed at some point during their conversation, it was only inevitable – he was just playing with her, trying to exercise power over the conversation. And besides. She’d had male role-models.
“Eliza, I can see you working me out. You may have a big heart, but you’ve also got a big brain. You can read people like a book. And do you know where you got that from? The reason I’m so successful in business is because I can interpret everyone I meet with.”
Lizzie knew, therefore, that Drew was aware the conversation was inevitably going to fall to her mother, so she decided that they might as well discuss it sooner rather than later. “Did you ever speak to her again?”
“Never saw her again after I left.”
And Drew Darwin seemed rather proud of that fact. Lizzie watched him, and waited for him to elaborate. “Your mother was useless –”
Lizzie had a lot of things to say about her mother, but one thing she would not allow was the hypocrisy of her father. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that.”
“It might surprise you to know, Eliza, I once loved her. But I left because I realised what she was like. Naïve, clingy. Married me and then frittered my money away, and treated me like dirt because I got annoyed. Lies, lies and lies and lies. She was baggage. And I’ve had a lot of time since to organise my thoughts.”
Baggage. Her father living true to his business-like nature, treating everything as a commodity.
Her father gave her a confused look. “For someone in care, you seem to have a lot of sympathy for the woman who landed you there.”
“You look very nice today,” he said in a sort of non-committal tone, as if he was just saying it because it was customary, and not because he had any conviction behind his words.
“Thanks. You too, in a posh kind of way,” Lizzie responded just as evasively. “Really dapper, actually.”
“Thank you,” Drew smiled, and gestured towards a round oak table with two seats opposite each other. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“No, no, Eliza, I insist,” Drew persisted, and pulled the chair closest to her out as if to prove a point. “Ladies first.”
“Thanks,” Lizzie muttered. All things considered, she was immensely proud of herself for managing to maintain her relaxed facade, when she was secretly masking her inner turmoil and anxiety. The simple action of sitting down to have chat with her father had been twisted by the entire situation. She was never in any contact with her father, and suddenly he was here, in an ever-changing lucid realm as if it were perfectly normal.
Drew sat in the opposite seat, his smile never wavering. “So, you know who I am.”
“Yeah, since I was seven.” Lizzie confirmed, before she lapsed back into silence. She nervously drummed her fingers against the oak table to generate some noise to block out the stifling silence without verbal communication.
“Ah.” He sniffed unnecessarily, before asking, “Would you like some tea, Eliza?”
“Lizzie,” she corrected. “And why?”
“Well, you look thirsty.”
“I’m not, really.”
He looked at her then, properly looked at her. A frown marred his expression, the kind of frown she expected parents used whenever their children weren’t behaving the way they wanted them to. He didn’t let it show in his voice, maintaining his calm, clinical tone. “Well, I am.”
“Okay,” she shrugged, trying to determine what made him tick. What made her father tick. “What is this place anyway?” Lizzie’s eyes drifted around the dark realm. It was completely bare, but there were thin trails of sinewy mist roiling across the air, converging onto the table in front of them and producing a fresh cup of tea. “It’s so…surreal.”
“Who knows,” Drew shrugged. “Maybe it’s where we all go after death.”
Lizzie considered. “That would be nice.”
“Maybe you dreamt this all up.”
She laughed at the thought. “Who? Me? I don’t really think so.”
“I dunno. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, as they say.”
“People don’t say that anymore.”
“Don’t they?” he frowned again. “Ah well. Point stills stands, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Why not?” he asked, and this time Lizzie could detect a faint growl. He was starting to slip. “Why won’t you let me in, Eliza?”
“It’s Lizzie.”
He leaned back, and waved his hand dismissively. “Sounds like a YouTuber. Eliza sounds proper.”
“Oh, that’s good. As long as it’s proper.” Lizzie scowled, properly miffed. “And how am I not letting you in? We’ve only been talking for two minutes!”
“It’s the way you look at me,” Drew tutted. “It’s as if you’re annoyed with me.”
Lizzie was starting to find him a little obnoxious. She had every right to be angry with him. “Don’t do that.”
He looked at her innocently. “Do what?”
“Try to belittle me. I won’t stand for it from you.”
“Fine,” he shrugged quickly. Lizzie noted that he preferred to avoid confrontation. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay,” she leaned back, and finally grabbed a cup of tea. Drew mirrored her when the mist produced another cup of tea. The white tea cup was porcelain with those embroidered flower patterns that she always saw on TV shows. She tilted the cup slightly, and the warm liquid sloshed to the side. Looking up at Drew, she waited until he took a sip before taking her own.
“Surprised?” Drew smiled when Lizzie pulled the cup from her mouth and stared at it. “Earl Grey.”
“My favourite,” Lizzie murmured. “How did it do that?”
“No idea,” Drew shrugged. “Maybe it just makes your favourite things. Or maybe this is all simulated.”
“Yeah,” she took another sip. “Maybe.”
They sat there in silence for several minutes, simply drinking tea. Lizzie watched him carefully, noticing the way Drew held the cup tightly in his hands before raising it to his lips, as if he were worried about staining his (probably expensive) shirt. He would then move the cup away and swipe at his bottom lip to wipe off any residue.
She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Can I ask you something? I’ve been meaning to for ages.”
“Oh?” his eyes sparkled as he mimicked her posture. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What’s this? A question about how I met your mother? Or maybe it’s about your grandparents, or what my job —”
“What are you doing here?” she interrupted abruptly. Hiding how amused she was when his mouth hung open in surprise, Lizzie looked at him pointedly.
He coughed, set his cup down, leaned in, and looked her straight in the eye. “That can go two ways, you know.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, me first,” he smiled that obnoxiously pearly white smile again..”What are you doing here?”
Lizzie slouched in her chair, and considered his question. “Where to begin? I know, let’s start…”
***
When the Doctor awoke, he was greeted by an overpowering golden glow, and immediately assumed the worst. He was regenerating. It was the only explanation. It was okay, he had lived a good life, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. He had grown rather attached to this body, all of the experiences he had endured, and all the friends he had made — they would stay with him forever. He let out a contented sigh. He wondered what his next body would look like, how Cioné would react, and whether he would finally become --
A sharp slap was inflicted on his right cheek, and the sound reverberated loudly off the walls. He was, quite frankly, in shock. The golden glow was replaced by a very irate-looking woman, wielding a golden pen light. Oh.
“Well,” he managed. “This is all rather embarrassing.”
“Chasya, what are you playing at?” a red haired woman popped her head round the door and glared. The same woman, the Doctor realised in his groggy haze, who had led the gaggle that been eyeing him suspiciously on the street.
“I thought he was perving!” Chasya exclaimed indignantly. “He was making weird noises and everything!”
“You’re meant to help the injured, not give them a concussion!” the red haired lady yelled.
“I know, I know! I’m sorry!”
“Just patch him up so we can get out of here. The kids are getting restless.”
Chasya watched as the woman exited the room, before turning to glare at the Doctor, who was staring back at her in curiosity. “Nice one, perv.”
“I’m not a perv,” the Doctor replied calmly, his fingers brushing over his stomach with a thoughtful frown. There was no pain and he hadn’t regenerated, which was good, but he knew that the stab wound wasn’t superficial. It had been fatal, and yet here he was.
“Yeah, sure, that’s why you keep touching yourself, is it?” Chasya smacked his arm away. “Cut that out already! I’ve already patched up the wound.”
“Patched me up?” the Doctor’s voice rose in surprise. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“None of your business how!” she retorted. “Who the hell are you anyway?”
“I’m the Doctor, who are you?”
“Chasya Tomkins.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of name is Doctor?”
“A lovely one,” he replied easily with a smile. “Chasya’s a lovely name too.”
“Oh, cheers.”
“How did you do it, then?”
Chasya rolled her eyes. “Oh, just button it, would you? I ain’t telling you.”
The Doctor scowled somewhat petulantly. “Why not!”
“Cos I ain’t giving secrets away to some random perv!”
“You managed to patch up a stab wound perfectly, I just want to know the technique for later use!” the Doctor exclaimed. “And for the last time, I’m not a perv!”
Chasya sighed in exasperation. “Look, we have no idea who you are. For all we know, you could be working for them and trying to attain our secrets, get it?”
“Them? Who’s them?” the Doctor’s hand traced over his stomach again as he considered his own question. “Aldora Baggot?”
“And co, yeah,” she replied. There was a steady rapping on the door that caught their attention; three urgent knocks in quick succession. Chasya stood up as soon as the knocking stopped. “Look, it ain’t safe here. If you want some shelter, we can get you that, but if you’re just gonna keep yapping on about our techniques, then get lost and stop wasting our time.”
“What I want, Miss Tomkins, is to find my friend and maybe get some answers,” the Doctor responded as he rose to his feet. He marvelled at the full recovery for a few seconds, and made a mental note to scan himself when he got back to the TARDIS, but right now he had to focus on other things. “Where is Lizzie Darwin?”
Chasya tilted her head in puzzlement. “Lizzie who?”
***
Fortuna Gladstone, a woman with a personality as fiery as her bright red hair, surveyed the scene before her with apprehension. They had been on a routine prowl around the streets as they waited for the signal from their captured comrade when they had spotted their target, Aldora Baggot, traipsing down the street with an unknown man. They had regarded them with suspicion, and trailed after them to avoid detection. The pair had entered the old orphanage, so the group was split into two; Fortuna led one team through the front door, while Chasya led the other through the back entrance.
They had converged into the main hallway to find Aldora’s accomplice slumped on the floor with a visible knife wound to the stomach, and the blurred children standing motionlessly over him. There had been no sign of their target.
Now, the children were getting restless and starting to file out of the building, as if they were being summoned. They walked silently, monotonously, and in two single files. It was a militaristic display that made Fortuna want to growl in frustration.
At that moment, the Doctor and Chasya barged through the door, embroiled in an argument of some sort. Fortuna stopped them, and crossed her arms.
“Would you two keep it down?” she hissed. “If we disrupt the movement now, we may never find her.”
“Who?” the Doctor asked.
“I told you it’s none of your business,” Chasya exclaimed. She smiled meekly when Fortuna glared at her. “Sorry. But still, point stands, Doctor!”
“A Doctor?” Fortuna said. “Of what?”
“Of everything,” replied the Doctor coolly. “Have you seen Lizzie?”
“Who?”
“Presumably not,” the Doctor murmured, his mouth a thin line. He glanced around the room. Women of different skin colour, hair colour and height were prowling around the room at different paces, talking quietly to each other or overturning dusty old furniture. However, the thing that caught the Doctor’s eye was the fact that they were all dressed in the same black body armour beneath billowing hooded black cloaks. “So,” he turned back to Fortuna and Chasya. “If I’m the Doctor, who are you?”
“Fortuna Gladstone,” Fortuna replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“Well, yes, very nice to meet you, but I meant collectively,” the Doctor responded, gesturing broadly across the room. “You’re all clearly part of an organisation of some sort. Which one? Have I heard of it?”
“None of your business,” Chasya snapped.
“Oh, a secret organisation!” he sounded almost gleeful. “That’s okay, I know most of them.”
Suddenly, there was a violent rumble that threw the Doctor off his feet and knocked him to the ground. Debris and dust sprinkled down from the ceiling above and the rusty old chandelier above teetered back-and-forth dangerously before coming to a sudden stop. The Doctor pushed himself to his feet, and was rather perplexed to find the women had managed to remain upright.
“Transport rings?” someone murmured. “But I don’t feel sick.”
“Did anyone hear the storm?” said another.
“Huh. I didn’t, actually,” Chasya replied.
“They’re on the move!” a dark-skinned woman by the entrance yelled. Fortuna and Chasya both pushed past him, and the Doctor took note of the bows slung across their shoulders.
He frowned, reaching into his pocket to produce his sonic screwdriver. “The children? But they’re inanimate.”
“Were inanimate,” Fortuna corrected. “They never stay in one place for more than two days or so. It’s like someone wants to keep them hidden. We keep an eye on them at all times.”
“Well, how does that work?” the Doctor asked. He was still fumbling inside his pocket. “And has anyone seen my sonic screwdriver?”
“Your what?”
“My tool. Non-lethal — emits sonic waves and vibrations; designed like a torch.”
“Vibrations, huh?” Chasya grinned broadly as they neared the back door. Fortuna prised it open with her bow, and she and her team filed out, leaving the Doctor behind with the blonde medic. “I can give you a much better description of your…’tool’.”
The Doctor frowned. “Eh?”
“Come on, you can’t be that dense if you’re such a p—”
“No, no, not that,” the Doctor hushed her. He squinted in the bright sunlight. “Where are we?”
The dingy streets that he had landed in were gone, replaced by an expansive city with gleaming, corporate steel-like tower complexes and long stretches of luscious green grass illuminated by the bright orange sun beaming from above. The Doctor whirled on the spot, trying to commit the new area to memory, whilst simultaneously wracking his brain on where he could locate Lizzie.
“Oh, we’re on the upper levels,” Chasya noted calmly. She looked around with a wrinkled nose, as if disgusted by her surroundings.
“Upper levels?”
“Yup. City’s split into two districts — upper and lower. The Upper District — this place — is basically for all the posh and rich, and those that can’t afford live here get shoved down below, the Lower District.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, aghast at the notion. “Whyever would you do that?”
“We don’t make the rules,” Fortuna interjected as she strode towards them. “But that doesn’t mean we approve or abide by them. Doctor, you’re an off-worlder, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” he nodded. “Me and my friend.”
“Lizzie,” she presumed. “Look, we’ll keep an eye out for her, even tell her to meet you at some specific location if you want.”
“You talk as if this is where we part ways, Fortuna,” the Doctor noted.
“That’s because it is,” she responded coolly, unfazed by the scowl that suddenly marred the Doctor’s expression. “Look, I don’t care if you like that or not, but you managed to get duped and stabbed by our target. You’re a liability, and we don’t need that. We have a mission to complete and a target to apprehend.” She spun on her heels and started to walk in the direction of a gleaming tower. “Chasya, with me.”
“I can help,” the Doctor called out after them. A frown marred his expression when Fortuna didn’t even break stride. Chasya glanced briefly at him before hurrying after the group of women, leaving the Time Lord alone on the street. He looked back at the decrepit building, a hand subconsciously on his stomach, before he whirled around and followed the group.
***
“What then?”
Lizzie glared at him. “If you have some patience, you’ll find out.”
“You know what, how do you even know this?” Drew continued, ignoring her entirely. “You weren’t even there.”
“How do you look twenty years younger than you should be? In the same suit and haircut from the picture — the only picture — I’ve ever seen of you?” Lizzie challenged. Drew opened his mouth to retort, considered her question, and, in that typical businessman way, gave her a sniff and an appreciative nod that indicated that he had no answer but would draw out the conversation in a way to lessen the loss. “None of this makes sense, but I remember it. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but just…just let me speak.”
“Fine.” He raised another porcelain cup to his lips, a cup Lizzie hadn’t even noticed before. “So, what happened next, Eliza?”
“Lizzie,” she corrected. “Well…”
***
Fortuna crouched behind the grey slanted wall, hood up, and cautiously poked her head out. The sisterhood had dispersed across the street, hidden behind several buildings and bin chutes to avoid detection. The faceless children were still walking in orderly rows, their feet marching in unison, and their every move closely monitored by several sleek grey machines that reminded Fortuna of toasters with arms: the spin-droids. She raised three fingers, and when she had finished counting down, she leapt from her spot, grabbed an arrow from her quiver and notched it into her bow, before releasing it one fluid motion. The arrow lodged itself straight through the eye of a spin-droid, alerting the others. Before they could react, a flurry of arrows rained down on them and struck them through their circuitry, leaving behind sparking, stuttering lumps of metal and wires.
The children continued their course, oblivious to the action. They were precise in their methods, and none of the youngsters had been hurt in the attack. Fortuna cautiously kicked a spin-droid with the toe of her boot, and sighed in exasperation when Chasya leaped over the bin chute and landed on another with a crunch, a victorious grin on her face.
“Satisfied?” Fortuna asked.
“Oh yeah,” Chasya replied, kicking another droid excitedly. “Still got that rush, you know?”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” She lowered her hood and tilted her head to the side so that she was eyeing the street behind her with her peripheral vision. “But you knew that, didn’t you, Doctor?”
The Doctor shuffled out of his hiding spot, a shop sign, soon after. He grimaced at the scene of destruction before him, the devastation left in the wake of the sisterhood. His eyes drifted up, and he looked at Fortuna, her bright red hair shining radiantly in the glow of the orange sunlight, with more interest in his appearance than the carnage at her feet. He couldn’t help but liken her to a vengeful Valkyrie.
“You’re very observant, Fortuna,” he said.
“You sound surprised,” she replied.
He eyed the destruction by her feet again. “Perhaps I am.”
“What you looking for?” Chasya demanded, her bow and arrow trained on him in an instant.
The Doctor raised his hands diplomatically. “Nothing. Just assessing the situation.”
“Impressed?” Fortuna asked.
“Unnerved. And curious,” he admitted with a frown. “Can I…?” He stepped closer when Fortuna nodded, and ran a hand along a destroyed Spin-Droid. He tore the head shell apart and fished out a red capsule device. “Ah, I thought so.”
“What is it?” Chasya asked suspiciously, her bow still trained on the Time Lord.
“Wireless controller,” the Doctor explained, twisting his arm so his palm and the device were visible.
Chasya lowered her bow and peered at it. “That thing?” she replied, unconvinced. “It’s tiny!”
“Which means that nobody would notice them.”
“Aldora,” Fortuna glowered. “It has to be.”
“Yes, Miss Baggot.” The Doctor looked at the red-haired hunter. “We both seem to be after her, but for different reasons — and clearly on different ends of the violence spectrum. Why? Who exactly are you people?”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?” Fortuna mused. She was staring at him now, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. The women were all standing around him now, in a circle that provided fewer means of escape than were previously offered to him. Eventually, she sighed and said, “Fine, but then you have to keep out of our way, and terminate your hunt for Aldora Baggot.”
“Of course.”
She didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Well…where to start? We’re—”
“Hold up,” Chasya interrupted, and pulled a bleeping device from her cloak pocket. It was a rudimentary communication device, with a glowing red tip and a flip-interface. A blue screen materialised in the air, with a detailed map and a red marker pinpointing a location on the outskirts of the upper level district of New Earth. “We’ve got a lead on her accomplice. Haruno’s just activated the scanner.”
“You go,” Fortuna replied. “She might need medical assistance. The rest of you go with her, you all know how dangerous the Dealer is.”
The Doctor looked at her in bewilderment. “The Dealer? Who’s the Dealer?”
“Her accomplice. I’ll explain later.”
“And the kids?” a dark-skinned woman asked cautiously.
“I’ll watch them, Amaya,” Fortuna reassured her. “Now go, you guys. Bring her back safe.”
“We’ll try,” Chasya replied, pocketed her device and turned to the four women beside her. “This way, ladies.”
In one swift motion, the group of five disappeared, leaving the Doctor alone with the remaining member, Fortuna. He would have jumped to the conclusion that they had merely teleported if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of the group of shadows that travelled above his head. He looked up, and caught sight of a billowing black cloak.
He turned to his newest acquaintance with a raised eyebrow. “They jumped from building to building.”
“Yes, they did,” Fortuna replied coolly.
“Tall, corporate office-like buildings and gleaming yellow skyscrapers,” he stressed. A huff of disbelieving laughter left his lips when Fortuna merely shrugged at his observation. “I ask again — who are you?”
***
“Well, who were they?” Drew looked at her expectantly. “Out with it!”
“Not just yet,” Lizzie responded. “I have a question first.”
Drew sighed a patronising sigh, as if she had stained her shirt with tea. “Go on then.”
“Okay, so…” Lizzie wondered about how she was going to tackle this. “The other… issue. Do you know what happened to Mum?”
She felt it important, that this should be a conversation they should have. After all, if they had this chance to talk, who better to discuss than one of the few mutual contacts they had ever shared?
“I wonder if it was the lack of a male role-model that led you to be… like you are,” Drew mused. It seemed he had very little interest in discussing Lizzie’s Mum – except, Lizzie knew that he did. She could see that Drew was well aware the topic was going to be discussed at some point during their conversation, it was only inevitable – he was just playing with her, trying to exercise power over the conversation. And besides. She’d had male role-models.
“Eliza, I can see you working me out. You may have a big heart, but you’ve also got a big brain. You can read people like a book. And do you know where you got that from? The reason I’m so successful in business is because I can interpret everyone I meet with.”
Lizzie knew, therefore, that Drew was aware the conversation was inevitably going to fall to her mother, so she decided that they might as well discuss it sooner rather than later. “Did you ever speak to her again?”
“Never saw her again after I left.”
And Drew Darwin seemed rather proud of that fact. Lizzie watched him, and waited for him to elaborate. “Your mother was useless –”
Lizzie had a lot of things to say about her mother, but one thing she would not allow was the hypocrisy of her father. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that.”
“It might surprise you to know, Eliza, I once loved her. But I left because I realised what she was like. Naïve, clingy. Married me and then frittered my money away, and treated me like dirt because I got annoyed. Lies, lies and lies and lies. She was baggage. And I’ve had a lot of time since to organise my thoughts.”
Baggage. Her father living true to his business-like nature, treating everything as a commodity.
Her father gave her a confused look. “For someone in care, you seem to have a lot of sympathy for the woman who landed you there.”
“Mum’s been dead for years. Liver failure.”
The words hung in the air, as Drew absorbed the fact that his former wife, and mother of his daughter, was long dead. Clearly when he’d decided to break off contact, he’d meant that in a more literal way than intended.
“Liver failure?” Drew questioned, clearly deliberately poking around for more information. The way he spoke, however, seemed cold, and clinical. As he said… he’d had a lot of time to get over her not being around, and to organise his thoughts.
“She was an alcoholic.”
“See,” Drew smirked as his point was proven. “She was a complete waste of –”
“No, it was a problem. An addiction. And it was an addiction that ruined a lot of lives, because that’s what alcoholism does, it makes things shit –”
“Don’t swear.”
“– “I’ll swear as much as I like,” because for once, her father was listening to her – and she was angry. “And guess what put her back on the bottle? You. When you walked out. And you know what, Mum got a lot of things very wrong, but you were the one who initiated the complete mess that has been my life so far, and have made me the freak that I am today.”
A silence followed, as Drew sat back and took a sip of his Earl Grey. It seemed that she’d made him speechless – a first, perhaps. Lizzie, meanwhile, found herself breathing heavily – she’d never laid into someone the way she’d had a go at him – but she’d had enough. After being treated like property for the entirety of her early life, she decided it was her turn to feel like a person, and not a thing.
It seemed her father had passed some traits onto her – even if they weren’t genetic. Because through his idiocy, he had set off a chain of events that had led to Lizzie becoming… Lizzie.
Eventually, Drew dared to speak. “I did love her, you know.”
Did you really… Lizzie thought to herself. Because from where she was sat now, it seemed as if her mother had merely been the plaything of a businessman in his early 30s.
“Rebecca had the biggest of hearts,” Drew continued, and Lizzie wondered whether she made up for the one her father lacked. This time around, however, it seemed as if Drew was surrendering, and admitting something he had tried to cover up. “She was such an emotionally driven woman – but that meant that above all, she always tried to love. Naïve, yes – she was young. And the lies weren’t ever malicious. We wronged each other. It happens in life.”
Lizzie was admittedly surprised to see even the tiniest bit of humanity in her father – especially regarding her mother. But Rebecca Darwin, ne. Williams, sounded like a lovely woman, before things went wrong.
“What happened towards the end?” Drew questioned.
Lizzie didn’t respond – it wasn’t anything she wanted to talk about. At all.
“Lizzie?” her father asked. And he’d used her name.
“She slept most of the day. When she was awake, she was violent. Angry. Used to… hit me, and other stuff. Trap my fingers in doors, by accident, like. I used to care for myself. I was four-years-old, and I was caring for myself. And like, not properly caring. I used to wash my clothes in the kitchen sink with washing-up liquid. Used to put bread in the microwave and heat it to try and make toast. I never realised I had to switch it on – I thought the light heated it up. So I used to just have… bread and butter half the time. I’d take some to Mum, too. Went to bed stupidly late for a kid, I know the script of The Lion King off by heart because we had it on video, and I used to watch it every night over and over, because there was nothing else. Eventually the video broke, and I was distraught – but I didn’t cry, because there was nobody to cry to. When that happened, I just sat by the window – we had this… bay window, and I’d sit in it, with the curtains drawn. And I’d feel safe, as I watched the stars. Every night, I’d always check on Mum. Eventually, she stopped ever waking up. And I lived with my mum’s dead body for three weeks after that. I kept bringing her food, thinking she was gonna wake up. She never did. And they only found out when a neighbour started to smell her. That’s when I was taken into care.”
Drew sighed, as if Lizzie had just missed a bus. But Lizzie could see that it had affected him – she could see that Drew Darwin finally understood that he’d done something wrong. But just like his daughter, Drew Darwin was good at hiding his emotions. He was good at being a closed book.
“We made mistakes,” Drew admitted. And just like Lizzie, he was too awkward to ever be able to find the words to communicate what he truly felt.
Although Lizzie doubted that anything he could say would make up for when she’d needed him most.
***
“The Hunters of Artemis.”
The Doctor pondered on the name briefly, trying to connect it to his previous encounters with organised groups. “Never heard of you,” he eventually admitted. “Are you new?”
“Relatively speaking.” Fortuna outstretched her arm to stop him from walking further, and motioned towards an alleyway. The Doctor nodded, and they hurried inside seconds before a car hovered by. “Tiny tremors in the ground,” she explained for his benefit. “You learn to pick them up. Come on, we can’t lose sight of the children.”
“It’s strange,” the Doctor murmured as they crouched out of the alleyway and cautiously followed the children, keeping their heads down. “Do you detect any frequency off of them?”
“No?” Fortuna looked bewildered by his question. “Why?”
“I detected a low-level energy pulse emitted by a perception filter. Something about it doesn’t feel right. Something…something doesn’t feel right,” he mused. “So who exactly are the Hunters of Artemis? You’re clearly a sisterhood named after the Greek Goddess Artemis, ruler of the Hunt and the natural environment.But personally, who are you? What makes you tick? Your group is small, so you must all have something in common.”
“Down!” Fortuna hissed, and they ducked behind a building as a Spin-Droid ambled past obliviously. They waited for a few minutes, before resuming their chase. “Yes, we all have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll explain later.”
The children rounded a right corner, but Fortuna grabbed the Doctor by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him towards a large red-brick building in the opposite direction. Slinging the bow over her shoulder again, she clambered up the ladder, closely followed by the Doctor.
“We’ve all had similar experiences,” she said cryptically, and launched herself off the last rung to somersault onto the roof with flourish. Apparently the Hunters had a penchant for glamour. “We bonded over it. Became sisters.”
“Is there anybody in charge?” the Doctor grunted, heaving himself onto the roof a little more slowly. “A common leader?”
“No,” Fortuna replied sharply. “We are not leaders and subordinates, Doctor, we’re a sisterhood for a reason. We’re all equal.”
The Doctor looked chastised. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, no harm done,” she replied, but the Doctor could detect the underlying grudge in her tone. They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, simply hopping from roof to roof companionably. Fortuna seemed to find it easier than the Doctor. She practically glided in the air, like a child high up in the air on a swing or in a bouncy castle, relishing those brief, precious intervals of escape before reality sent them crashing back to monotony.
They continued their silent routine, sometimes ducking to avoid detection from passing Spin-Droids, until the children stopped. They were stood outside the largest building in New Earth, a sleek, revolutionary establishment that was possibly the pinnacle of modern architecture. Gunmetal in colour, solar-panelled windows gleamed brightly in the orange sunset. The windows were an indication of an individual bedside window, as the Doctor glimpsed rows upon rows of king sized beds all placed adjacent a holographic fireplace. The building was split into three sections: the main building itself standing proudly like a citadel, a smaller warehouse of some sort, and what appeared to be an open garden sealed off by a giant skylight and solar-glass. It dawned on the Doctor that the third building was a greenhouse of some sort, but the fauna growing inside was unfamiliar to him.
“Why here?” the red-haired hunter muttered under her breath. “Why bring us here?”
“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asked. “What is it?”
Fortuna drew in a shaky breath, fiddled with her bowstring, and turned to him morosely. “New Earth Orphanage.” She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow with some rope at the end. She drew the bowstring, aimed at a window opposite them, and released it. The arrow whistled through the air and pierced the glass, securing itself in the metal cover of the lift shaft. She tested the taut rope, before turning to the impressed Doctor. “Come on. This must be the end of the road.”
***
“Do you know what I’ve realised?” Drew asked tentatively. There was external calmness that he was emitting, possibly to feel in control with his emotions, but Lizzie could see them warring in his expression. He trying to grapple with the new information but was having trouble truly expressing it into manageable thoughts and words. Lizzie was well acquainted with that jumble of emotions. “You’ve been mentioned in this story, but you haven’t actually told me how you got here.”
“I suppose this is the right point in the story.” Lizzie responded.
“And that girl, Meera.”
“She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman.”
Drew shrugged. “There aren’t any real real women, everybody knows that. Little girls stay little girls all their life. All sugar and spice. Why haven’t you mentioned her until now?”
“Well, you can go off someone if they’ve lied about their identity.”
“You’re backing up my point, Elizabeth,” Drew grinned. Lizzie was actually, physically repulsed by the display. After everything she had told him, everything about her life and her mother, and he was back to his fragile persona in five minutes.
“Shut up.” She growled. “Just shut up.”
“Why? She your girl…friend? God, I can’t even say it. If that doesn’t show how wrong it is, I don’t know what does.” He laughed awkwardly at his horrible joke. Lizzie was too emotionally drained to launch a verbal assault, but she felt a little satisfaction as she watched his laughter die in his throat.
“Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“I do,” he responded.
“Well then.” Lizzie looked down at the swirling mist again, concentrated, and a smooth spherical orb dropped into her hands. “I suppose it all has to do with this.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, actually. But it was instrumental.” She looked at the orb thoughtfully, admiring the beauty. Eventually, she put it down, tucked her chair in, and crossed her arms on the table. Drew mirrored her position, engaged and ready to listen. “After the Dealer — that’s the accomplice they were on about, I think — after he showed up, he didn’t exactly sit down and talk to us.”
***
The Dealer lunged for them immediately with a frustrated roar. ‘Meera’ dove to the left, narrowly avoiding his claws. The creature tried again, launching itself at the woman and swiping at her with his claws repeatedly. Lizzie watched in astonishment as the woman ducked and weaved around the attacks elegantly. She made it look like a dance, with twirls and lunges and near-misses.
“Your commitment to perfection’s made you redundant,” ‘Meera’ said smugly.
Her astonishment morphed into mortification when she realised that the creature was luring the other woman into a corner of the room. She opened her mouth to warn her, but the Dealer, with surprising agility, grabbed her by the throat and forcefully slammed her into the wall.
“That may be so,” the creature hissed while Meera gasped for air. “But I know how to exploit your flaws as well, Jada Haruno.”
“D — don’t…” Meera, or Jada, spluttered helplessly.
The Dealer’s grip on her throat tightened. He leaned forward menacingly. “Don’t what?”
Lizzie looked around the room helplessly for a weapon or a distraction. The newspaper wouldn’t do anything but irritate him, and the boxes were completely empty and weightless, and the shelves were too heavy for her to move.
Jada, on the other hand, glared up at the Dealer defiantly. “Don’t…use…my name like we’re old friends.”
At that precise moment, as if it were all planned, the room burst into an explosion of activity. Lizzie was startled when the wall at the far end of the room cracked open, and plaster and debris showered her. A group of five women rushed in, launching a tirade of arrows at the grey figure. With its free left hand, the Dealer swiped at the oncoming projectiles, splitting them in half with its talons. A single arrow, however, whistled past his right shoulder and embedded itself in the back of his hand. Lizzie winced at the roar of pain reverberating around the room, while the cloaked women watched it mutely. The arm wrapped around Jada’s throat slacked, and she slumped to the floor, still gasping for air. A woman with blonde hair was by her side in an instant.
“You okay?” the blonde woman asked, swatting Jada’s hand away to examine her throat.
“I’ll be fine.” Jada assured her.
“But let me —”
“Chasya, I’ll be fine!” She gestured towards Lizzie. “Just get her out of here. She’s a civilian, she’s done nothing wrong.”
“You have all committed treason,” the Dealer roared.
“Oh, back again, are you?” Chasya asked snidely. She rose to her feet and nocked an arrow, adopting an open stance. “I’ll shoot, mate!”
The cloaked women all raised their weapons at the target as well. Lizzie watched them, slightly awed and disoriented by the situation.
“Who are you?” she asked before she could stop herself. A dark-skinned woman glanced at her through the corner of her eye.
“Ma’am, you should leave. Now.”
“Lizzie!” Jada staggered to her feet. “Run! This isn’t your fight!”
Without warning, the Dealer rammed his arm into Jada and Chasya’s stomachs, knocking the wind out of them and sending them crashing into a shelf. The women attacked him immediately, submerging him in a flurry of arrows. Lizzie turned to run, to find the Doctor, and hopefully find a way to stop the madness after doing so, when a smooth grey orb rolled into her foot.
“Don’t touch that!” the creature roared. Lizzie looked at him, then back at the orb and quickly scooped it into her arms. If the Dealer wanted it, it was probably instrumental to whatever was going on.
“No!” Jada exclaimed. “Don’t touch that!”
Lizzie was about to respond when a bright flash of white light caught her attention. She looked, and there was another burst on the edge of her vision. A white wispy trail floated towards her and enraptured her, leaving her breathless. Her heart hammered in her chest and her palms were sweaty but she couldn’t help but stare, transfixed. It was so beautiful.
“The light,” she whispered. “So bright. Like...a glow.”
Her vision swam, but the light kept her company.
“Lizzie?”
The alarm rose an octave, almost drowning out the shouts.
“Lizzie.”
The sound of her own ragged breathing drowned out every other noise. The sound that she had been acquainted with all her life. It was peaceful.
“Lizzie!”
Everything faded to black.
***
“And that’s how I got here,” Lizzie concluded. “That’s my story. Your turn.”
Drew was remarkably quiet. It was a good look on him, Lizzie thought, better than all the snide retorts. He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully, and took another sip of his Earl Grey tea.
“Well?”
“It’s quite a story,” he said at last. “Did you exaggerate it?”
“No!” Lizzie huffed indignantly, before second-guessing herself. “At least…I don’t think I did. The details are a bit fuzzy, but that’s how I picture it.”
He shrugged. It clearly didn’t make a difference to him. “You don’t look like you’re trying to remember it properly.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather not be an open book, thanks,” Lizzie bit back. The sparkle dulled in his eyes and he leaned back again, clearly not appreciating her attitude. “Your turn.”
“I don’t know,” Drew replied easily. “Weird, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Lizzie conceded. “But I prefer another term.”
“What’s that, then?”
“Convenient.”
***
After some insistence, Fortuna relented and let the Doctor shimmy across the rope first. He was quite proud when he realised that he had only stumbled twice along the way. He tumbled through the window ungracefully and dusted himself off in slight embarrassment. Fortuna entered soon after, untied the rope, dropped it, and returned the arrow to her quiver. During this time, the Doctor was surveying the room. The wallpaper was grey and peeling; the king-sized bed was still beside the holographic fireplace, but there was also a beside table with a defunct digital clock and, surprisingly, a drawing pad. The room was small and crammed with toys and games that had gathered dust. The elevator shaft acted as a makeshift door, and he could see a scanner on the side.
There was no discernible pattern or order to the room — everything was placed in a haphazard heap and, the most important detail of all, was that Aldora Baggot was sat in the centre of the room with two cups, a teapot and her knitting needles.
“We should be safe in here for a bi —” Fortuna trailed off when she turned around, staring at the woman in surprise.
Aldora didn’t even look surprised. “Oh, hello, Joseph.” She smiled mockingly at the Doctor’s stormy expression. “Now, isn’t this nice?”
Fortuna had an arrow aimed at her skull in an instant, her fingers hanging precariously off the drawstring.
Aldora regarded her with a smug smile. “Oh, you do like loitering with the ruffians, don’t you, my dear?”
“Shut up, you bitch,” Fortuna hissed, edging closer angrily.
Aldora huffed at her choice of language. “Now, my dear, that is not way to speak to your elders.”
“I should have killed you in the streets.”
“Well, you always were capricious,” Aldora chuckled. “I think you got that from me.”
The Doctor’s head snapped up in interest, his mind racing with the implications of that sentence. He glanced between the two women, but he couldn’t find any bearing resemblance. He could just let Fortuna kill her, let it all be over with, but he could never bring himself to do it, and he needed answers.
“Now, go play outside,” Aldora said dismissively, as if she had read the Doctor’s thoughts. “The grownups have a lot to discuss.”
To the Doctor’s surprise, Fortuna acquiesced. She put away her bow and arrow, and vanished through the open window, crunching the glass scattered across the floor as she went. He turned to Baggot, who didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. She motioned towards the seat with her eyes and returned to fiddling with her knitting needles. He stood there for a few seconds, casting one last furtive glance around the room for any weapons she could attack him with. Satisfied that there was nothing within her reaching distance, he sat down in the small kid chair opposite her, and ran a finger around the rim of the tea cup.
“I see you’ve got past my defences.”
“Yes,” he replied. “You don’t sound very surprised.”
“Of course not.” She looked at him as if he were stupid. “I couldn’t have ordered them to open fire on you, that would kill you. Who would I talk to then?”
“Who indeed,” he mused, refocusing on the tea cup. “I have conversed with some of the most malign and dangerous forces in the universe,” he said as a way of starting conversation. “But none of them have offered me a cup of tea.”
Aldora chuckled. It sounded more like a croak. “Well, I do pride myself on my people skills.” She set her cup down and took a sip of her tea. “Besides, I do have manners, you know.”
“Yes, that’s exactly why you stabbed me,” he scowled bitterly.
“Oh, now don’t be sulky,” Aldora tutted. “Look at you, you’re fine and dandy. I did no damage, no damage at all.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
Aldora shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I see you’ve acquainted yourself with Fortuna. She always was the lucky one, it was in the guidelines. Dreadful glare, though. I didn’t program that into her.”
“What do you mean ‘program’? You can’t program something into someone.”
“Can’t you?” she challenged.
“No,” he replied firmly. “Condition them, yes, but that’s not the same thing.”
“Oh, Doctor,” she sighed patronisingly. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s all better —”
“I didn’t mean the stab wound,” she interrupted. “What I mean to ask is — well, does it hurt to be wrong all the time?”
The Doctor said nothing, irritating her even more.
“Well?”
“I don’t need to answer that. I’m not wrong.”
In a rather dramatic display, Aldora rolled her eyes and huffed. “Foreigners.” She set her cup down and stared at him. “Do you really have no idea who I am?”
“No.”
“You’re not a member of the Galactic Police? A higher order?”
“I am my own order,” he replied coolly. “I don’t need my choices governed by others.”
“Ah!” she wagged a finger at him. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong. Everybody has a higher order governing them, Doctor, everyone! Doesn’t matter if it’s you, me, Fortuna or one of the children —”
“Yes, speaking of the children, what have you done to them?”
“I’m speaking,” she said crossly.
“And I’m done listening,” the Doctor retorted. “Answer my question, Aldora. I have a lot of things to do.”
She looked at him innocently. “What question?”
“See, now you’re just being spiteful.” The Doctor stood from his chair and glared down at her. Aldora glared back, not willing to back down. “Answer my question.”
“Fine,” she spat. “Sit back down first.”
The Doctor slumped back in the chair, and put his boots up on the table.
“Honestly, you have the most terrible table manners,” Aldora winced.
“I know, you should see my bedside manners,” he nodded in agreement, picking up the tea cup. “Now, the children.”
She tightened the shawl around her shoulders absentmindedly, her eyes glassy and far away, as if she were reminiscing. “They’re my profit.”
Just like that, the cup fell out of the Doctor’s hands and clattered onto the ground below, the cup shattering into tiny fragmented pieces and the hot liquid oozing onto the dull brown carpet. He looked at her in horror. “What did you say?”
“I have to make money somehow,” she shrugged as if she saw no problem in her own words.
“No, no, no, stop. Look at me. Do you have any idea how disgusting and horrific you sound?”
“They’re not dead, so it’s not a problem!”
“That’s not the point, you are using them for your own means. Children are not a means to an end.”
“Honestly, truth be told, I think you’re just overreacting.”
“Am I now?”
“Well, how else would I afford somewhere as lavish as this building?”
“What, you own this orphanage?” the Doctor asked. “Better yet, you live in it?”
“Yes!” She laughed at him as if he were a fool. “This used to be my bedroom, specifically designed to match the one in my old living quarters. Deary me, Doctor, you didn’t actually think I lived in that dingy little cottage on that scruffy little street, did you?”
“Well, of course you didn’t. A cottage that small would never be able to house you and your ‘Joseph’, whom I suspect has been a fabricated lie all along.”
“Finally, he gets it.”
“I don’t understand, what do brainwashed children do for you?” A horrific thought dawned on him and he looked at her in disgust. “Do you —?”
“Heavens, no, nothing so vulgar!” Aldora shuddered at the thought. “I’m not a complete monster.”
“Then what do you do?”
“I’m a business woman, Doctor, but I wasn’t always like this. I once lived in the slums below, the ghettos. My dad overworked himself trying to make enough for us to go by in that dirty grocery stall. It was revolting.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but that doesn’t justify —”
“I haven’t finished,” she growled. “I always wanted to mingle with the celebrities up here. The bigwigs, and I did. I finally got my change, but it took me so long. Oh, so long. I realised that I could help people, parents in particular. Give them what they always wanted.”
“What’s that?”
“Their children.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Parents want children,” Aldora clarified. “But not just any children. Perfect children. Genius, athletic, strong, gentle, and with an iron core; they want them to look beautiful — glamorous, even — with a nice wife or husband on their arm. Keep the business running, look after the kids, be the perfect pillar of society”
“It’s impossible,” the Doctor said confidently.
“Oh, yes it was. Of course it was. Even after everything the human race endured, we couldn’t evolve properly.”
“Properly?” the Doctor repeated.
“Yes! Look at them. All those hybrids running away. It’s like a…meme,” she wrinkled her nose. “Horrible word. Nothing’s proper anymore.”
“Proper or not, you can’t just force all these expectations onto a single person, it’s asking too much. You’d overwork them. It is not something humanity, or any species, can achieve. Not even the Cybermen. It’s unattainable.”
She pointed a needle at him. “And yes it’s not. I’ve achieved it.”
“How?”
“You’ve seen it.”
“Have I?” He paused, and considered her statement. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. “The Hunters of Artemis.”
“Exactly. They’re not the perfect ones, mind you. Far too aggressive to be suitable mates. It’s a shame, honestly. A few go wrong every so often that just can’t be covered up, so I just abandon them. But the rest, you must have seen them. Whizzing about in their posh cars with their families and their jobs. Oh, they make mummy proud.”
“Is everyone on New Earth manufactured, or is it just this city?”
“No, no, just a select few.” Aldora giggled to herself. “Well, that’s how it was at first. We were a new business, you see, just finding our feet. There were only a select few, but then word got around of our success rates, and people came crawling. Gave us all the money,” she clapped her hands greedily. “Oh, I was rich by the next five years.”
“Do you enjoy taking away free will?” the Doctor asked seriously. “I knew someone like you once. You’re almost just as bad.”
“What good is free will in a world like this?” Aldora scoffed. “Do you know what the problem with the universe is, Doctor? It’s too soft. Everybody has all these big ideas they want to put into motion, but they always fall flat. The children are the worst of the lot. Look at them, with all their swagger and confidence. They’re not being raised proper. They should be disciplined.”
“Punished for having a different viewpoint, you mean?”
Aldora raised her hands and shrugged. “What difference does it make? We live in a cold, terrible place.”
“Because people like you make it so.”
“We make the universe better,” she insisted.
“You slowly choke the universe and all of its resources in the name of profit,” the Doctor spat. “Children’s imaginations should be nurtured, and cared for, not shunned and scoffed at. They can help make the universe a better place, they revolutionise it, but you wouldn’t understand that, would you? With all your conformity and regulations. You’re just looking for a quick buck and a territory to monopolise.”
“But it’s like Ms Cullengate always says, the universe is stunted beyond repair. There’s nothing we can do ‒”
“There’s always something we can do ‒” the Doctor interjected.
“We have to fight for ourselves before it’s too late.”
“No, we have to work together before it’s too late.”
“You’re not a messiah.”
“And you’re not a God.” She was seething now. “You’re just a stupid little man with a bleeding heart, don’t you come here and tell me how to survive. A man like you would never understand, Doctor. You’ve probably never had a steady job in your life.”
The Doctor leaned close. “And because of you, those children will never get to experience not having a steady job. They’ll just follow instructions instilled into them, they’ll never get to experience the joys. They’re just microcosms, there is so much to see, to do, and they never will. They’ll die unsatisfied because of you.”
Aldora barely spared him a glance. “What do you know about my creations?”
“I know that I’m going to save them,” he vowed. “I’ll stop you and this senseless destruction of their identities and then, I’m going to lock you away so you can never hurt anyone again.”
She smiled then, a challenging gleam in her eye. Aldora loved a challenge. “Well, we’ll just see if you can uphold that promise then, won’t we?”
“Doctor!” Fortuna’s head appeared through the broken window. “Something’s happening in the warehouse!”
The Doctor’s eyes darkened as he stared into Aldora’s very soul, trying to find a glimmer of redemption, but all he could see was an old woman too far gone because of her belief in a destructive rhetoric. He pushed away from her, and moved towards the window.
“I didn’t just wake up like this, you know,” Aldora called after him.“I’ve had to adapt. Years of being trapped in the crossfire because of rules set in stone, because some idiot freed the people in the slums after a contagion broke out and decimated the upper level population. They set out rules, you know, the first ones that made it up, fancied themselves to be the chosen ones. Anyone who didn’t adhere, they were forcefully sent to the slums. My family was one of those. I lived in poverty and now look at me. I’m on the winning side.”
He didn’t want to listen to her prattling any longer. “Where’s my sonic screwdriver?”
“Gave it to the Dealer, my accomplice,” she replied. “He does love phallic instruments.”
“This is the end for you, Aldora,” the Doctor said quietly, his back turned to her. “I’m ending this, here and now. The end of the road.”
“We’ll see, Doctor,” she murmured. He jumped out the window after that, but she was aware of the crushing inevitability of his words. He most certainly survived. He had the Hunters with him, but he didn’t know the full truth, yet. She sighed happily, returned to her cup of tea, and relaxed in her chair. “We’ll see.”
***
“You left us.”
It was direct, and didn’t leave any room for his interjections. Lizzie watched with slight satisfaction when a small trickle of tea dripped off Drew’s lip when she had made her statement, splashing onto his blue shirt and leaving a brown stain as an afterthought.
She leaned closer and continued. “You left your family.”
“Yes, I did,” he replied evenly, and slowly set his porcelain cup down. Lizzie’s eyes followed the movement, and she allowed herself a brief interlude of surprise when the cup disappeared in a trail of white smoke as soon as it hit the surface of the table, before regaining her composure and continuing with her barrage of questions.
“Why? Do you know, or did you conveniently forget that as well?”
“I don’t appreciate your tone,” he responded smoothly, but Lizzie could read him like a book. The twitch of his lips, the flash of malice in his eyes — they all pointed towards his irritation.
“Well, I’m sorry for that — well, I’m not, actually. I have a right to know. You left — no, you abandoned us. Why?”
“Why do you look at girls that way?” Drew retorted.
Lizzie scowled. “No, you don’t get to change the subject —”
“— Like you look at boys?” he continued, undeterred. “Like you should only look at boys?”
Lizzie said at him incredulously. “Like I should only look at boys? God, do you ever hear yourself?”
“Well, all I’m saying is that I think normally —”
“I am not you!” Lizzie snapped. She didn’t mean to, but she did. Maybe this was good,to unleash the pent up anger. She didn’t need to justify herself at all. He was the one beating around the bush, but….
Maybe it was good to lay down the ground rules.
“I don’t think like most people do, I think about all these different…possibilities in my head. I like different things, I like girls and boys romantically and I will not have you swan in here and tell me that it makes me abnormal or weird or a freak. I’m different, okay? So what? It doesn’t make me any less a person!”
“I told you before, I do not appreciate your tone,” Drew interrupted calmly.
Lizzie huffed in frustration and put her head in her hands, taking a few minutes to collect her thoughts, before looking back up at him again. “And I told you that I don’t care. I don’t, okay? All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, was to know why you left us. You didn’t even know about mum! Your wife. The one you made vows to. Do you remember that or was that memory conveniently misplaced as well?”
“Elizabeth…”
“Oh, so I’m Elizabeth now, am I? It’s Lizzie. I haven’t been Elizabeth since I was 10.”
“Why?” Drew asked.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“You found out something, didn’t you?” he continued regardless. “Something about us that made you want to drop the name.” He smiled when Lizzie shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m right, aren’t I? Go on then, tell me, what did you find out?”
“Something Maggie told me.”
“Oh?” He was clearly waiting for her to elaborate.
“About you,” she said eventually. “She told me something about you.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing much. She sat me down in the park on a hot day, with chocolate chip ice creams, and she said one sentence. Just one. I didn’t know what it meant, at first. But as I grew, I realised what she meant.” She laughed. “Even then, she shielded me from the full pain until I was old enough to understand.”
“What did she say?” Drew repeated a little more angrily. Clearly he didn’t like being out of the loop. He wanted to remain in control, especially in front of women.
Lizzie took a deep breath. “She said — and this has stuck with me all my life — she said ‘he’s a bloody Conservative, love.’” She smiled grimly at him. “Pretty self-explanatory.”
Drew sighed, and leaned back in his chair.
“Am I wrong?”
“No, I can tell you’re not.”
“Well, could you at least fill in some of the blanks cos I’m a little rough around the edges.”
Drew shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Lizzie said incredulously. “How could it not? Was it a job?”
“Yes.”
“A well-paying one?”
He nodded. Lizzie didn’t know how he could just sit there.
“A well-paying job that meant you had to abandon your wife and child?”
“That was —”
“Don’t say it.”
“It was of my —”
“Shut up.”
“— my own volition!” he finished with a yell. His face was starting to redden. “You were holding me back.”
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare. We were your family, and you cut ties because of your ambition? You’re sick.”
“I’m practical.”
Lizzie reached over and threw his cup into the blank abyss. She started to regret it, wishing she had spilled the Earl Grey all over his face. “Just don’t speak, okay? Just be quiet, even for a little bit.”
He obeyed, and the two lapsed into silence. Lizzie sighed, wondering how much more of this hell she would be able to take.
***
“What did you see?” the Doctor asked as soon as they swung off the building. It was a miracle that he hadn’t broken both of their legs. He wasn’t sure how durable the Hunters were with their enhancements quite yet.
“Not precisely sure,” Fortuna replied, snapping the Doctor out of his ruminations. “There was this giant pillar of white light. Almost blinded me for a second, but then it was gone.”
They hurried over to the warehouse doors, and Fortuna used her bow to prise them open enough for them to squeeze through. The warehouse wasn’t particularly impressive. It was a rustic building devoid of any discernible features. There were dull monotonous grey walls and a cold metal floor. Rows upon rows of metal shelves lined the walls as they advanced into the building. Their trek led them to a spiral staircase at the end of the corridor and, to their surprise, they could hear arguing downstairs.
“Hold still!”
“Oh, push off, I told you I’m fine.”
“Oh yeah, that bloody great bruise on your neck is just a tattoo.”
“Oh, shut up, Chasya.”
Fortuna sighed in exasperation. “Oh, here we go. They’ve kicked off now. Come on, before they throttle each other.”
The Doctor followed her down the staircase. “Are they always like this?”
“Yes. We’re a sisterhood in all respects.”
There was a double set of red sliding doors at the foot of the staircase. The Doctor pushed one to the side and poked his head through.
“Hello, everyone. I’m the Doctor.”
Chasya rolled her eyes. There was a purple bruise on her cheek and her arm had been bandaged. She was crouched beside a woman unfamiliar to the Doctor. “Oh great, it’s you.”
There was no bite in her tone, he noticed as he walked in. His eyes immediately fixated on the crumbling wall on the far side of the room “Can’t get rid of me that easily. And it seems you can’t get rid of wanton destruction. What happened here, ladies?”
“Er, it wasn’t our fault, thank you very much. Blame that thing over there,” she gestured towards a tall grey humanoid figure wrapped in the corner of the room, with two Hunters guarding him. “Gave us a proper run for our money, but it was good to finally deck him.”
“I’m sure,” he drawled, crouching down next to the Chinese woman next to the blonde. “Hello, what’s your name?”
The woman regarded him suspiciously. “Meera Amin.”
The Doctor’s smile thinned. “No, you’re not.”
“What?”
“I know what Meera Amin looks like, I’ve seen a picture of her. You’re not her. So don’t insult my intelligence, and tell me who you are.”
The woman didn’t look very threatened. “Jada.”
“It’s true,” Chasya supplied. “Not that’s it’s any of your business.”
“Nice to meet you, Jada, I’m the Doctor. Have you got a surname?”
“What’s it to you?” she asked defensively. The Doctor raised his hands to placate her.
“Just curious, that’s all,” he noticed her white dress, a stark contrast to the Hunters body armour. She was probably the most injured. He turned to the attacker curiously. “Who’s that then?”
“The Dealer, one of the monsters responsible for the disappearances,” Jada shuffled forward, but Chasya pulled her back again.
“Stop moving!”
“I’m just trying to get my Holo-Caster!”
The Doctor eyed the small metal orb in the corner of the room. He ambled towards it. “This thing?”
“Don’t touch it!” She snapped scathingly, hurrying over and grabbing it. “Seriously, don’t.”
“Okay, okay. I’m not touching it, see?” He took a step back to further his point. “Can I at least ask what it is?”
Jada softened, and glanced at the device nervously. “I don’t actually know, but I’ve had it all my life. Don’t know why I keep it with me.”
“We all have one,” Fortuna, who was helping Chasya tend to two Hunters, supplied. “Not all the same colours, but the same shape. They all belonged to our parents.”
“Well, can I see one?” the Doctor asked hopefully.
It was Chasya who spoke. “That’s a no-go. They seemed to be keyed to us specifically. Anybody who doesn’t…well, they…”
“What?”
“We don’t know. It looks like teleportation, but we’re not sure where they go,” Jada said bluntly.
He looked thoughtful “Interesting. But we can’t dwell on that for now. I’m sure we’ll figure it out later, but for now, we have to stop Aldora.”
“You’re after her too, are you?”
“Can we do this elsewhere?” Fortuna asked them. “This isn’t a secure area and Spin-Droids will be here at any moment. We need to go.”
“Agreed,” Jada nodded. “Let’s go, ladies. You too, Doctor.”
***
They didn’t go very far. The Hunters of Artemis led the Doctor to a secure stronghold near the warehouse. Chasya explained that they had marked it during a previous excursion for practical reasons. A small disused office building that provided a view of Aldora’s orphanage.
The Doctor was sat on a spinning chair, aimlessly spinning as he formulated a plan. He juggled the sonic in his hands, having pilfered it off the deceased Dealer. He wasn’t quite sure what species it was.
Chasya was patching people up and Fortuna was pacing up and down on the upper floor trying to come up with her own plan. His feet twitched from the lack of activity. He needed to be out there. He needed to find and help Lizzie. He needed to help the children.
He looked up at the sound of a small cough. Jada was stood by the door with an enigmatic expression on her face. The Doctor almost dared to call it a smile, but there was a slight crease in her eyebrow that indicated frustration. “You okay?” she asked him, and it sounded genuine.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “Are you?”
“Yeah. A bit bruised but I’ll live.”
“That’s good.” He nodded and they lapsed back into an awkward silence. He really did need to find his lost charisma again. He decided to go for the small talk approach, try to glean more information. “Have you been with the Hunters long?”
“Ooh, about…nine years. I’m the youngest. They found me while I was camped out in an old market stall.”
“Hmm.”
“We’ll find her, you know,” Jada assured him. “Your friend, Lizzie. She’s definitely not dead. I can’t explain it but I…I just sense her.”
“I hope you’re right,” he sighed. “Why did you take the identity of Meera Amin?”
“To help her,” Jada replied “Wanted a normal birth, you know? But her husband wasn’t having it, wanted a proper son like his friend. Made a deal behind her back. She was scared half to death, came to us for help. So I took her place.”
“That’s very nice.”
Jada shrugged. “It was an opportunity to get to know more.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “What are you thinking?”
He spun his chair until he was looking out the window. “We have to help them,” the Doctor declared. When he turned around, he saw Jada shaking her head, her face a grim picture.
“No way.” She spoke bluntly, and then made an effort to move the conversation on. “We need –”
“Jada, we can’t just leave them.”
Jada sighed, because the Doctor was apparently a persistent idiot who clearly wasn’t going to give up without a fight. What he didn’t realise, was that she wasn’t going to give up without a fight either. “Watch me.”
The Doctor stared at her, bemusement etched across his face. He couldn’t understand why an organisation so intrigued by the children would be so against helping them. It seemed like the obvious solution – to be better than Aldora, to do something good. They were children – they should be loved. “Why are you being so cold, Jada? Do the right thing.”
That really got on her nerves. “Don’t talk to me about what’s right and wrong here, you know nothing about me.” Being judged by someone who knew nothing about her was not exactly the way to her heart. And so, Jada walked away from him, not caring what the Doctor thought of her. Others’ opinions of her did not matter.
On second thoughts, before she got far away from him, Jada turned again. She was going to tell the Doctor – and she was going to make him feel guilty about it.
“Imagine you were a child and you were scared.”
“I have been the scared child, Jada –”
Jada continued, even through her confusion at what the Doctor had said. “And then your tormenter that brought about the fear in the first place came back?”
“I would forgive them, Jada. I would do it out of nothing but love.”
Well… Jada decided. The Doctor wasn’t everyone. And he definitely wasn’t her. “We can’t all be as ‘holier-than-thou’ as you, and be so forgiving.” It was an attitude that irritated her – everyone’s opinion that you should always forgive. Half of those people didn’t have anything huge to forgive, ever. They would never know what it was truly like.
“I understand, Jada. I can see that this is hard for you –”
“What do you know about it? That stupid, stupid child, tried to get into my house every night! Do you know how that… ruined me? How something like that can change a person?”
“Of course I can. Because it’s happened to me.” And the Doctor thought of Lizzie, and how he needed her to be safe. Childhood traumas… perhaps his loneliness was why he always needed so much company.
“Then don’t bully me for being cold.”
The Doctor shut up, then, and watched Jada. He regretted everything he’d said – after all, he knew how she felt. He had been cruel to her, misunderstanding the fact that everyone was cold to a degree – and there was often something behind it.
“And besides,” Jada said. “What do you think Lizzie would do in the same situation? If she were greeted by her childhood?”
“How do you know –”
“Scared children. I can see them.”
The Doctor stopped – and realised that she had understood him all along. “I’m… sorry.”
Jada backed away from him, because she did not care what the Doctor was going to say to her. This was not something she would be a part of. “I will fight my own fight.” Jada hoped that he understood (although she didn’t care), that she couldn’t fight his.
Then, she vanished into the shadows.
The Doctor sighed, and felt an idiot – emotions getting the better of him. A regular thing, perhaps – although he wasn’t bothered about it. Better to have emotions than no emotions at all. He would not blame Jada for anything, however.
Then he glanced over, and saw that in her wake, a strange device was lying on the ground.
The holo-caster orb.
He picked it up and rolled it in his hand, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Jada had said that Lizzie had vanished in a white light, but he didn’t feel any different.
He gasped suddenly, feeling something rummaging about in his head, and raised his defensive barriers. Once he deemed it safe, he lowered his barriers a little to try and catch a glimpse of the opposing person.
It was a woman with brown hair, floating aimlessly in a stark grey realm .
Lizzie.
Relief washed over him. She was safe, but she was trapped, and would be very confused when she woke up. Maybe if he could send her a message…
He closed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and concentrated. It took several tries, but he managed to send a message through the orb to his friend — Don’t worry, I’m on my way — along with a detailed summary of the events that had unfolded.
He opened his eyes to look at the orb again, his mind racing. It wasn’t just one mind he felt trying to reach out. A thought occurred to him and he raced out the door. To his relief, Jada was in Chasya’s makeshift medical bay getting a check up. They looked up at him and were taken aback by his jovial expression.
“I’ve figured it out!”
“Figured what out?” Chasya asked him in bemusement.
He held up Jada’s orbs and talked over her protestations. “The orbs — they’re the key! I need you to gather up all your orbs.”
“Why?”
“Trust me!” He rushed out the room and bounded up the stairs. He couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t an emergency self-destruct mechanism on the holo-casters, so he would have to deactivate them all at once. He wouldn’t be able to save everybody, but at least he could help the Hunters.
A short while later, the women all entered the room, with Jada in the lead.
“Explain what you’re doing.”
“These orbs,” he held Jada’s up as an example. “You said you’ve had them all your life? Have you ever used them?”
“Well, yeah,” Jada nodded. “I used it as a diary.”
“I used to keep on top of global phenomenons,” Fortuna added. “We didn’t use them for the same purposes.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter. You see, these are linked to you. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“It’s a database,” he explained eagerly. “With added functions. It’s the future, everything’s moved on. The people who disappear, you said you didn’t know where they went. They’re in here. That’s why this shines so brightly in the light. All those colours represent the trapped people. I don’t know what happens in there, but I know that we have to free them.”
“How?” Jada asked. “Is my mum in there? Is that why she disappeared?”
“Quite possibly!” He noticed the lingering hesitation and sighed. “Look, I know that this is a lot to take in, but I do think I’m right, and I need you to trust me.”
“I do,” Chasya said, handing over her orb. The Doctor looked at her in bewilderment “ What? I think you’re a bit weird, but I think you know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, thank you!” He turned to the others. “Well? Come on, come one!”
Slowly, one by one, they each produced their orbs from their cloak pockets and deposited their orbs in the Doctor’s hands.
Fortuna walked up to him with her orb in tow. “I hope you’re right, Doctor.”
“Me too,” he replied truthfully. Satisfied with his answer, she handed him her orb and joined the small group of females. Finally, only Jada remained. The Doctor looked at her hopefully. “This could help everybody.”
She hesitated. “Lizzie?”
He nodded.
“My mum?”
“I don’t know for definite, but there’s a very good chance.”
Jada sighed, and nodded. “Fine. If it means I get to see her again.”
The Doctor nodded, and spun around, dropping the seven balls onto a desk, and produced his sonic. Taking several steps back as a precaution, he activated the sonic and, after quietly hoping that he was right, deactivated the orbs.
***
The dark environment around them shifted rapidly, before dimming into an inky black colour before they could react. Lizzie looked around nervously, trying to figure out what had happened.
“You’re fading,” Drew noted with slight surprise. Lizzie looked at him, and then looked at her arm. She was unnerved to see it start to become transparent. She could glimpse the table slightly. Quickly putting her arm down. She looked up at Drew.
“So I am.” She coughed to hide the tremor in her voice. “I guess this is it.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “It was a nice meeting. Lots of things were aired out.”
Lizzie looked at him incredulously. Meeting. He made it sound like a formality, and not a reunion with his daughter.
“Were you real?” She asked, gesturing towards his youthful appearance. “Was any of this is real?”
“Memories are powerful, Lizzie,” he responded cryptically. “Yours most of all.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a maybe.”
“That’s a shame,” Lizzie sighed. “Because if it isn’t, you won’t know this.” She leaned forward again and smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me life. For giving me a chance. I know that sometimes I can get tired but I think, you energised me.”
“Well, I certainly did that,” he smirked smugly. “Well, it’s okay, I su —”
“I haven’t finished,” Lizzie continued, her smile intact. “Because you’ve given me something to fight against — you, and people like you. You’re a horrible, horrible man. I think you see the light of redemption and choose to ignore it, and that is just unreal. You may have problems because of the people I like and the things I do and the name I choose, but they are irrelevant compared to you. Every step of the way, from now on, I’ll fight people like, I’ll fight your rhetoric and I will not stop. Never. So, if this is goodbye, I wanted to know that.”
She was barely visible now. She was a ghost in the night.
“I’m going to fight people like you, dad.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Drew’s lips. He smiled challengingly at her and uttered a single sentence that floated all around Lizzie as everything faded into darkness..
“Well, I look forward to it, Lizzie Darwin.”
***
“Did it work?” someone murmured. The Hunters all left the room, hurrying outside to check outside. Jada lingered behind for several seconds, eyeing the charred remains of her final tie to her childhood, before chasing after her peers. The Doctor checked the readings on his screwdriver thoughtfully, turned to follow the Hunters, and came face to face with Aldora.
“Aldora Baggot,” he scowled.
“Oh, my dearie, Aldora taunted, grinning a malicious, gummy grin. “You don’t know yet…”
The Doctor knew he was missing something. As he watched the little old lady, he knew that there was something so blatantly obvious he hadn’t grasped yet. And Aldora knew he could see it – but she was determined to mock him over it…
“Tell me, what don’t I know?”
“The truth behind the signal – and you’re not going to find out… yet…”
The perception filter – the Doctor was sure of it. “Something about the perception filter, I know it! But tell me, Aldora, I need to know –”
“Oh, but why would I tell you that? You’re my…,” she whispered. “Competition…”
“You think I’m competition?” the Doctor ridiculed. As if he would ever get involved in such a disgusting system at this. “I’m here to stop this.”
“I’m a business-woman. If you pose a risk to my profits, then you’re competition.”
Children for profit… the Doctor thought. Nothing short of trafficking. “You’re disgusting.”
Baggot gave the Doctor a look of genuine confusion, as if she had no idea why he was referring to her with such strong words. “I’m making my way in the world. And I came from nothing.”
The Doctor looked at the old woman, so corrupted by society that she had no idea of the implications of what she said. He wasn’t going to be able get anything out of her.
Perhaps there was a chance, then, that he would be able to decipher some meaning of the signal.
“The signal, then. I don’t care what it’s hiding. But what is it to you?”
Aldora mused on his sentence for a few seconds, as if working out what she could tell him to cause maximum frustration, and still give away very little. “The signal is… my insurance, perhaps.”
The Doctor grimaced, as she spoke about children being insured, as if they were just… property. “Welcome to New Earth. I’d hoped that by now, we’d be past all… this.”
The corruption of capitalism. Still running strong, even so many years in the future.
“Oh, Doctor. It’s the best way. The only way.”
“Just because it’s the oldest, doesn’t mean it’s the best. You are ruining lives. I will stop you. And not just you.”
His words turned cold – and perhaps he saw a brief flicker of fear in Aldora’s eyes. But she regained herself – it was not a fight the Doctor could win. Even if he defeated her, the universe would still remain unsullied by his… socialist ways.
“You’d go to war against the greatest ideology? Oh, how childish you sound… you’ll have to travel around the whole universe, you know.”
“And I will.”
Aldora laughed, as if the Doctor was merely making idle chit-chat – as if he could not possibly be making any kind of true threat. Although he was. But something wasn’t right. Normally, he could say those words, and they would change things. He wasn’t normally laughed down.
“I have it, on an authority higher than mine,” Aldora explained herself. “That it’s not a fight you can ever, ever win.”
That was intriguing. An authority higher than Aldora? Listening to the way she spoke of this mysterious authority; the Doctor did not assume a boss. She spoke with something strange in her voice – something almost like… patriotism.
“Whose authority?” he questioned.
“A woman. More powerful and more terrifying than you will ever know. Our great leader – and she will crush people like you. People who betray us. Defectors.” She spat out the last word, as if the very look of the Doctor in front of Aldora Baggot made her sick to the stomach.
“Who is she, Aldora?” the Doctor demanded, with desperation in his voice.
“The Prime Minister knows you, Doctor. And if you start to fight, then it’ll be her you are provoking. The market herself. And she will rain hell upon you.”
The Doctor stopped.
“The Prime Minister…” Aldora repeated. The Doctor listened, and it sounded as if Aldora expected the Doctor to know who she was talking about. But before he could ask anything, Aldora fell into a fit of mocking giggles. “You shan’t find out about the signal, Doctor. Not yet!”
“I’m going to help these children, you know.”
Aldora shook her head with great certainty – but she didn’t care. It wasn’t going to mean anything to her, apart from, perhaps, a brief setback. No… if the Doctor did help the children, then it would be much more tragic for him.
She leaned in closer. “Oh, but Doctor… you’re not helping the children. You’re condemning them.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing, Aldora. Brainwashed by society.”
“I’m their mother, Doctor. And mother knows best.”
She laughed again – this time, it was more of a cackle.
“You know,” Aldora continued. “It’s so close! Hidden in plain sight, by a simple perception filter. But – aww, dear – look at you. So emotionally driven. So desperate. You don’t know, and it’s killing you. Well, Doctor – I’m not going to tell you.”
“Doctor!” Lizzie’s frantic voice echoed into the room. The Doctor’s head snapped up in relief and anxiety. He looked down at Aldora.
“What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing,” she smiled innocently. “It was you. Those parents signed the terms and conditions, Doctor. They knew what they were getting into.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just thought I’d come to say goodbye,” she tapped her wristwatch. “Before I depart. Holo-ring, you see. No thunderstorm this time, but alas, that was just to distract the locals. Bye, bye, darling. I hope you like your surprise.”
She disappeared in a flash of blue light, and the Doctor ran out the room to follow Lizzie’s frantic shouting, with the words of Aldora Baggot haunting him.
***
When Lizzie woke up, she was surrounded by an army of faceless children. She lurched to her feet in surprise and backed away when one of them looked at her. “Er, hi,” she said awkwardly.
“Lizzie!”
It was the group from before, their crossbows at the ready. ‘Meera’ grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards them.
“Meera?” No, that didn’t sound right. She wracked her head, until a name came to the forefront of her memory. “Jada? What happened? I was —”
Before she could finish, the children started to scream, with their limbs flailing as if they were having an epileptic attack. Lizzie tried to move forward, but Jada pushed her back.
“Keep back!” she hissed.
“They look like they need help!”
“What’s he done?” a red haired woman said furiously. “What’s the Doctor done?”
“The Doctor? He’s here?” Lizzie suddenly felt relieved. “He can help us!”
“Look!” a blonde woman exclaimed, pointing at the children. Their faces were starting to clear slightly, and Lizzie could make out the pallor of their skin. Jada suddenly went rigid when their faces cleared completely, her eyes fixed on a girl in the front.
The children stood there, swaying from side to side, before collapsing onto the ground. The Hunters lunged forward and Lizzie turned towards the building desperately.
“Is he in there? Doctor! Doctor!”
Jada wasn’t listening. She collapsed onto her knees and rolled the motionless girl onto her back so that she could see her face. She stared in disbelief, unable to stop the tears from spilling for her eyes. “Mum?” she whispered quietly.
The Doctor burst onto the scene, immediately checking Lizzie over. They both stared in surprise. It felt like a lifetime since they had last seen each other. Then, he turned to Jada, and his heart sank. He moved over and sat down next to her.
“Jada, I’m sorry.”
“But she’s dead,” Jada whispered in disbelief. “All of them. All these kids. But…but they’re not kids. This is my mum.”
“This is my dad,” Chasya murmured quietly. “But it can’t be. It’s just his head on a child’s body. But…how? Why?”
“I’m sorry, Chasya,” the Doctor said mournfully. “I really am.”
“What happened?” Lizzie asked. The Doctor sighed deeply.
“I’ve made a mistake.”
***
“Explain it again,” Jada demanded. She was back in the office lounge with the Doctor and Lizzie. Some of the Hunters had gone to clear up the bodies while Fortuna left to find something for the Doctor.
“Aldora Baggot and her accomplice struck a deal with desperate parents to create the “perfect child” in a bid for a grand evolution scheme. She used stolen technology to facilitate her scheme. Technology I haven’t seen before. The holo-caster orbs, she used them to keep an eye on you. Made sure you couldn’t be taken into care and were left alone because you were failed batches”
“But, those children, who were they?”
The Doctor looked down darkly. “I think they were the bodies of your dead brothers and sisters.”
“I didn’t have a sibling.”
“You did,” he replied. “There was someone else in that womb before you replaced them. They probably grew up alone and then killed for her schemes.”
“That’s horrific,” Lizzie gasped.
“And..my mum’s face?” Jada continued. “Why her face?”
“I guess she didn’t have enough money,” the Doctor speculated. “It’s always the way with these things. Not enough funds to develop the failed batches, so she used a perception filter to hide them. Make people look away. Senseless propaganda to turn away the lost.”
“But she recognised me. She came to my house. Our house!”
“Again, the orb. Like Chasya said, it’s keyed to you in more ways than one. It’s your birth certificate among many other things. Like an inbuilt tracker, she used it to find you.”
“All this time…” Jada murmured, at a loss. “My own mum.”
“You thought she was your tormentor,” the Doctor reminded her.
“Oh, she was,” Jada responded fiercely. “She was a part in all this. She stripped me of my identity. I’m a walking enigma. Why would she do such a thing?”
“She might have been scared,” Lizzie spoke up. “Sorry, I know it was my place, but maybe she wanted the best life for you.”
“That doesn’t excuse anything.”
“No,” Lizzie agreed. “It doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor sighed. “I should have seen it. It was staring me in the face. I thought the signals were from a low-level perception filter, but it was from something far more powerful, and I couldn’t stop it.”
“You should have seen it,” Jada said bitterly.
“Yes, I should have.” He looked out the window. Fortuna was visible in the distance, driving in on a hover-van with a familiar looking blue-box in the back. “I’m sorry, Jada. I could have given you some time with your mother, but I robbed her away instead.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jada sighed. “You weren’t to know. I’m sorry too, I’m expecting too much of you.”
“Maybe this is why I’m alone,” he murmured. “I’m old, and I’m dangerous. How long can I keep this up?”
“As long as it takes,” Lizzie said determinedly, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Because that’s the sort of person you are. And you’re not alone anymore, that’s just being daft. You have me now.”
“Planning to stick around?”
Lizzie grinned. “After today, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
The Doctor smiled back. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay,” Lizzie smiled back and turned to Jada. “What you did for Meera, that was brave and really, really nice. I know you think it was all a big opportunity to bring down your enemy, but you still did it, and that counts for something.”
“Easy for you to say, you haven’t met Aldora,” Jada muttered brazenly. “Neither did I, to be frank. I wanted to crush her so badly, and now I want to crush her even more.”
“Look, Jada, you’ve done and said some questionable things in the short time I’ve known you, and I’m not discounting that, but the point I’m trying to make is — you did good.”
Jada snorted at that. “Thanks, Lizzie. That was proper eloquent.”
Lizzie giggled. “I know, I should just not speak, should I?”
“Yeah,” she sighed.“Well, what happens to the pair of you now?” Jada asked.
“We go off, have adventures,” replied the Doctor. “Do good and stop suffering as best as we can. What about you?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Chasya and Fortuna, they’re alright. They didn’t really have good relationships with their parents, but we’re a family now, and so are the rest. We’re the Hunters of Artemis, and I’m sticking with them. As for what we’re gonna do,” she shrugged. “End of the road, isn’t it.”
“Perhaps,” the Doctor conceded. “But there are other routes to take.”
“You have a whole identity to forge,” Lizzie added. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learnt today, it’s that. Your mum may have failed you, but that’s not something to mull over. It’s a destructive cycle that I was mostly spared from. I’m sorry that you had to endure it, but you’re better than your mum. You’re not perfect, nobody is, but you can be good. You can have heart. You could be a hero.”
“Me?” she laughed self-deprecatingly. “I wish.”
“Well, there’s a whole planet out there,” the Doctor noted. “A whole cycle to break. They need your help. They need the Hunters of Artemis. Just…maybe cut down on the violence.”
Jada smiled glumly. “No promises. Besides, heroes give hope. I could do with some hope right about now.”
Lizzie smiled at the Doctor, and the Doctor smiled at Lizzie.
“We can arrange that.”
***
“So this is the future of the human race,” Lizzie sighed. “It’s a bit grim. I don’t like it.”
“No, neither do I,” the Doctor replied sullenly. They were both back in the TARDIS and he was leaning over the TARDIS console, stroking the rotor affectionately. “She’s right as rain now. That’s good.”
“All she needed was a rest, like you said.”
“Yes. Sometimes resting is good…” he pulled a face. “But they’re mostly boring.”
Lizzie laughed. “Are you okay now?”
He looked at her seriously. “Are you?”
“No.” She smiled awkwardly. “But I’ve sort of made a promise to myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah! To stick up for myself more.”
“Well, that’s very noble of you,” the Doctor grinned. “Boosting your self-esteem is always a good thing.”
“Yeah probably,” Lizzie smiled, trying not to show how awkward her declaration made her feel. “Do you think this will give Jada hope?”
“Oh, Lizzie Darwin,” he grinned impishly. “I know it will.”
***
“We look like right nobs,” Chasya complained.
Jada rolled her eyes “Oh, shut up, Chasya,”
“The interior’s quite something,” Fortuna stated. “Seriously, you would have loved it. It’s mystifying…and surprisingly weightless. Though maybe that’s just because she was feeling nice.”
“She?” Chasya looked at her curiously. She looked at the box and waved. “Hiya, fellow gal pal.”
“You’re absolutely ridiculous sometimes.”
“Yeah, whatevs.”
Jada sighed in exasperation, and just focused on the box. She didn’t know why the Doctor and Lizzie had asked them to watch them enter blue shed, but she supposed they must have had a reason. Honestly, she just wanted to crawl into bed with some orange-apple tart and sleep for days. Promising to be better was easy, but the road to fulfilling that claim was more difficult.
Suddenly, to her amazement, the box started to make an unearthly sound, and it coaxed Jada out of her thoughts. It started flickering, hovering in and out of reality as if it was just a holographic transmission. She stared, transfixed, her ears ringing from the symphony. It was beautiful, and terrifying, and it filled her from the brim with joy, though she would never show her friends. She liked being the stoic one.
Eventually, the box disappeared and Jada still stood rooted to the spot.
“Hey,” Chasya said. “Look, there’s a package for you.”
Jada looked down, and realised Chasya was correct. Where the blue box once stood was a parcel shaped around an object with a little note. She walked over and picked up the parcel, reading the note.
Heard you needed some cheering up! Rock ‘em dead!
- Planet of the Lesbians xx
She frowned at the note in confusion, but pocketed it for later use. She tore the parcel open and her eyes widened when she realised the contents.
“No way,” Chasya breathed. “That’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” Jada grinned, wielding her new crossbow like an expert. It was black in colour, with sleek panelling and a lightness that made it easy to carry. Jada was entranced by it, running her fingers along the bottom. “It’s beautiful.”
“How come I don’t get a gift?” Chasya huffed.
“You spent half the time calling him a perv,” Fortuna pointed out.
“Yeah but still!”
“Somehow, I don’t think this is from the Doctor,” Jada laughed. And she didn't think it was from Lizzie either. But time would tell. There was still an tightness in her chest that needed time to be repaired, and she certainly wasn’t truly happy, but for the first time since their mission started, she felt hopeful that, one day, she would return to the road of happiness. She turned to her friends, Chasya and Fortuna, the girls who had stuck with her through thick and thin — the ones she would call her closest sisters. Pulling her hood over her head, Jada smiled wryly.
“Ladies, we have work to do.”
Eventually, the box disappeared and Jada still stood rooted to the spot.
“Hey,” Chasya said. “Look, there’s a package for you.”
Jada looked down, and realised Chasya was correct. Where the blue box once stood was a parcel shaped around an object with a little note. She walked over and picked up the parcel, reading the note.
Heard you needed some cheering up! Rock ‘em dead!
- Planet of the Lesbians xx
She frowned at the note in confusion, but pocketed it for later use. She tore the parcel open and her eyes widened when she realised the contents.
“No way,” Chasya breathed. “That’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” Jada grinned, wielding her new crossbow like an expert. It was black in colour, with sleek panelling and a lightness that made it easy to carry. Jada was entranced by it, running her fingers along the bottom. “It’s beautiful.”
“How come I don’t get a gift?” Chasya huffed.
“You spent half the time calling him a perv,” Fortuna pointed out.
“Yeah but still!”
“Somehow, I don’t think this is from the Doctor,” Jada laughed. And she didn't think it was from Lizzie either. But time would tell. There was still an tightness in her chest that needed time to be repaired, and she certainly wasn’t truly happy, but for the first time since their mission started, she felt hopeful that, one day, she would return to the road of happiness. She turned to her friends, Chasya and Fortuna, the girls who had stuck with her through thick and thin — the ones she would call her closest sisters. Pulling her hood over her head, Jada smiled wryly.
“Ladies, we have work to do.”
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Next time - a frosty future100 years in our future, and the Earth is the victim of mass terrorism. Called to the planet by UNIT, the Doctor and Lizzie find themselves tied up in a possible plot beneath the city of London.
But terrorism is not a game, and the Doctor and Lizzie find out about it first hand, when they are faced not only with the masters of the plot, but a darker force behind the scenes. One we all know of, one that is pulling the strings - and one that is determined to hide. Time is in flux, life is on a knife edge. This is what happens when the Doctor and Lizzie changed time. |