Quirks of a Blazoning Pen

Argh!

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 17:51:54 GMT

Tried again today to get the new mood theme going but it still doesn't want to work. On the creator's site it says to just keep trying. Great. Maybe I'll try again this afternoon or tomorrow. Please be patient

Apologies!

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 18:15:09 GMT

I'm trying to change my mood theme and it's a wee bit difficult so I should get it to work soon.

Pineapple Worship

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 22:08:19 GMT

Title: Pineapple Worship
Author: jpgr
Characters: Shawn, Gus
Rating: G (Pure Fluff)
Word Count: 225
Disclaimer: Neither character belongs to me nor the series idea (darn!) I'm here just for fun.
Summary: Just how far would Shawn go to celebrate the Pineapple?
Notes: I apologise if this comes off soundling like a travel brochure but it needed to be done. It's also my first fic in this fandom so please be kind! The festival mentioned is real and takes place in the next town over. http://www.pineapplefestival.info/

“Dude, did you know there’s a town in Florida that celebrates the pineapple every November?”

Gus knew he wouldn’t get any work done, especially with Shawn in full Google-mode.

“This looks great! Food, rides, music. We should totally go.”

“Shawn, we are not going cross-country just for a pineapple festival.”

“’Just a pineapple festival’?” Shawn put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Gus. Just think of it, all that fair food, crafts, and look at the musical guests.”

Gus looked at the screen. “Well, I did like her dancing.”

“We can make a trip of it. We can hit Disney World, South Beach—we could ask Jules for some cool places to go--oh, and go to the Everglades and take a ride on one of those boats with the giant fan on them. What are they called?”

“Airboats.” Gus read a bit more about the town. “You do know there are no more pineapple plantations there?”

“That’s why it’s so cool they still celebrate it. All that delicious food in one place: pineapple smoothies, turnovers, sorbet…”

Gus moved back to his own laptop and pulled up a travel site. He had better book this trip before Shawn had them traipsing all over the state. Maybe he could use some of his frequent flyer miles.

Infinite Majesty

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 00:34:18 GMT

Title: Infinite Majesty
Series: Doctor Who/TOC Files
Characters: Ten, Martha, Jack, Simm!Master, Jones Family, Lucy Saxon, OCs
Word Count: 10,287
Rating: Gen
Spoilers: The Last of the Time Lords
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Only Alan Kelly and his friends are
from my brain.
Summary: Alan Kelly aids the Doctor and Martha in the fight against the Master. Includes scenes and dialogue from The Last of the Time Lords.
Author's Notes: This is an "off-shoot" of an ongoing series in which an original character, Alan Kelly, will meet all of the Doctor's incarnations (well, at least up to Eleven). As he had alread met Ten, Martha, Jack and Delgado!Master, this seemed something of a gimme. Sequel to 8:02

Alan arrived back on Earth on a vast expanse of green overlooking London. The city was burning as the Toclafane flew overhead, firing on anything they wanted. He turned and saw Martha running for shelter in the trees. He followed, calling her name as loud as he dared.

He caught up with her just inside the tree line. "Martha, hold on!"

She turned on him. "You should've stopped him! You could've prevented all this!"

"How? He never told me his plans and kept me either prisoner in the TARDIS or on such a short lead, I could only do what he wanted."

"You could've..." The anger was leaving her as the shock set in.

"Martha, he killed the Cabinet and got me to get rid of the bodies by threatening to hurt Tish."

"Alan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

He put his arms around her. "It's okay. I know a place where we'll be okay and get ourselves together."

"But the Doctor wants me to--"

"Stop right there. Don't tell me anything. All I need to know is the Doctor set you a quest. Who said you couldn't start it in Cardiff?" He teleported them both to the Hub.

Martha looked about in amazement at the large multi-level cavernous lair. "What is this place?"

"Torchwood Three. This is where Jack's been keeping himself for the last 100 years or so."

"Why is it empty?" She looked at the workstations and saw the computers bore dustcovers.

"The Master sent them to the Himalayas so Jack couldn't call on them for help. I'm going to go get them. You should be safe here because of the filter. When we get back, we'll work out a plan to start you on your way."

Martha eased onto a sofa. "You won't be long, will you?"

"Blink of an eye."

"Good." She gave him a tired smile.

Alan thought about Jack's team, using their names and faces to help him focus. Then he was in a wood hut with four automatics aimed at him. "Somebody call for a cab?"

"Alan?" Ianto was the first to lower his gun.

Tosh hugged him while Gwen holstered her weapon.

"How the hell did you get here?" Owen demanded, putting away his own gun.

"I used my head."

"Teleport?" Tosh questioned.

"And I can only take two at a time, so who's going first?"

After it was decided, Alan took Tosh and Owen back to Cardiff and introduced them to Martha. He then went back to Gwen and Ianto. The two had to hold him steady.

"Can you do this?" Gwen asked.

"It's not like I have a choice. I have a feeling that I'll pass out once we get back to the Hub, so there are a few things you need to get started on right away."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two months into his reign and the Master had already reshaped world politics. Country leaders who agreed with his policies retained governorship, accountable only to him. Those who didn't were replaced with ones who did.

As for the general public, only those with practical and useful skills-scientists, doctors, and military-were allowed to retain their position. Other professions like lawyers, teachers and all blue-collar workers were relocated to labour camps to help build the new glorious empire.

Communications were closely monitored. All TV and radio broadcasts had to be approved by him. The Internet was no more and phones were for official use only.

Even so, the odd pirate broadcast would come through, telling stories of hope and freedom. The majority of them seemed to revolve around the Doctor and each was different. The Master knew Kelly had to be behind this, gathering stories from former companions and those who had met the other Time Lord just the once.

He also had spies and snitches inside many of the labour camps and these sources informed him of two stories circulating. One was of a woman who would cross the world alone on a quest and would return one year to the day to destroy him. And I thought she wouldn't be a problem.

The other story was more expected. A large resistance network had spread across Great Britain and Ireland, all supposedly masterminded by someone known only as the Colonel. The arrogance! He was coming across as some sort of Robin Hood, giving the workers some sort of hope. Trying to track down someone in the resistance was hard enough, but when that someone was also able to teleport, it was near impossible.

"Sir." One of the clerks stood there.

The Master looked up from his plans. "What?"

"An urgent communication from--"

The Master snatched the paper from the man's hand and the clerk scurried away. A shipment to the yards at Portsmouth was blown up and everything was destroyed. He threw the papers onto the table. "You!" He looked at the other end of the long table and pointed a finger at the Doctor. "This is all your fault!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word. Francine and Tosh stood on either side of him, forgetting that they were his servants, not the Doctor's.

Well, Kelly's attempt to delay production would only mean that the workers would have to put in longer hours. That could only turn the people against him.

Such a thought cheered him a little bit, but not enough. He strode over the Doctor and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair. "C'mon, Gramps. It's time to check on the captain."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alan waited in the bushes overlooking the road that would carry the Master's supply convoy. This was the ideal spot for the ambush as the stretch of road was straight between two bends with perfect cover for hiding. The "Planning Committee" devised a plot that allowed for six small groups to attack simultaneously.

His "troops" were a mix of different organizations including Torchwood (obviously), UNIT, MI5, as well as the regular military branches. He was aware that they all looked to him as the leader and he found it daunting. At least he knew he could be comfortable with these people and let them see the pressure he was under and he need for support.

But it wasn't just fighters he was responsible for. He now had to worry about civilians who had joined their cause and made their home at the base. That was one of the reasons for these raids. Supplies were stretched thin. Thumbing his nose at the Master also played a major role.

"Sir?"

Alan looked over at a young soldier with a terribly boyish face who was in charge of communication. "Ross, drop the 'sir', okay? What is it?"

"The convoy's been sighted."

"OK, tell them to wait until the trucks are all within the zone before anyone makes a move. Maintain radio silence from now on unless there is a dire emergency."

Ross relayed the message. "Is it true that you knew the Master before all this?" he asked. "It's so hard to tell what's true and what's not nowadays."

Alan kept his eyes on the road. "Yes, it's true. Believe me, he was saner back then. I'm sure he's made UNIT's files."

"But I'm not really privy to those files, being just a foot soldier."

"You think of yourself as just a foot soldier, that's all you'll be. You've got to be open to new ideas, think outside the box. You never know when you'll be put into a situation when all your training will mean nothing."

"Like this?"

Alan could hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah, like this." Through his binoculars, he could see the convoy as it made its way along the road. Not much longer. Now! He sent the order to each group and the ambush began.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Sir, we've just received word that the convoy to Dover has been attacked."

"And?" The Master waited.

"Everything was taken. Six soldiers were killed."

The Master slammed his fist against the table. "This is becoming intolerable. What else do you have to tell me?"

"The survivors are saying all the groups attacked as one without any form of communication."

"Oh, there was communication. It was Kelly. I give him a gift and he uses it against me."

"If I may be so bold, sir, have you tried to infiltrate the Resistance?"

"In the beginning. All new recruits are brought before Kelly and he reads them. He'd know if anyone was spying for me. I just need to leak some information about something he can't resist. The man is too much of a Robin Hood."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alan sat on the bluffs overlooking the ocean and watched the sun go down. He had had to escape the close confines of the underground base and just be alone for a bit. He heard a footfall behind him on the loose rocks. "Hello, Gwen," he said without turning around.

"How did you know it was me?" She sat beside him.

"I just knew that you'd be the one to check up on me."

"To be fair, Ianto was the one who knew you had left. Is everything okay?"

"I just needed time away to think." He faced her. "Gwen, I'm beginning to feel like just a figurehead. Everything is moving so smoothly, it's almost as if I'm unnecessary. I need to move on to something else."

"You're the head of the Resistance on Earth. Where is there to go?"

He looked skywards with just his eyes.

"No," she exclaimed as what he meant registered. "You can't!"

"I've thought it all out and it's the next step."

"You had better tell everyone at once and let them get used to it."

"You're not going to try and talk me out of it?"

"It would only be a wasted effort."

They both sat there and watched as the last bit of sun disappeared. "Okay, that'll have to hold me for awhile." Alan stood and offered Gwen a hand. "Time to break the news."

It only took a few moments for word to spread that "The Colonel" wanted to speak. Alan watched as the members of the resistance gathered. Knowing all these people looked to him for leadership made what he was about to say that much harder. He cleared his throat nervously and everything hushed as they looked at him expectantly.

Alan took a deep breath and began. "I'd like to start by saying how proud I am of everyone. Tosh and her fellow technicians have found alien tech that could be made to run our equipment which makes it harder to the Master to find us by an energy trace." He paused for the applause and could see that Tosh was blushing at the attention.

"There's Ianto and his team who have done a wonderful job coordinating cells and organizing information with limited means of communication." Ianto nodded his head graciously in acceptance.

"Then there's the medical team performing surgeries in less-than-ideal conditions and with equipment that has seen better days. Did I get that right, Owen?"

"Not my exact words, but, yeah," replied the Torchwood doctor as he leaned against the wall.

Alan smiled. "I know how much everyone has given up to be here, to do what they think is right. You all deserve praise." He paused for the general applause.

"I'm telling you this now because I plan to move on as there is nothing more I can do here." The protests echoed. "I'm not giving up the fight, I'm just...relocating."

Ianto spoke up. "You're going back to the Valiant."

"Yes, I am."

At this admission, those listening began protesting in earnest, shouting out reasons for him to stay.

Alan held out his hands to quiet them. "I've thought it out, and this is the best way. The Master will lessen his search for all of you once he has me. Plus, I can irritate the hell out of him to his face." That got a laugh. "Now, it's going to take some detailed planning so I'll probably be around for another month or so, but I just wanted everyone to know. Um, okay, I guess that's it." He stepped down and walked to the acting Operations Room to plan his own capture.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Master sat across from his recent nemesis as a medic applied a field dressing to the gunshot wound in Kelly's shoulder. When word had come to him that the Resistance was planning a raid with the Colonel himself leading it, the Master had known he had to be there.

Oh, and it had been worth it. The moment his guards had stepped from the shadows to surround the Resistance had been a thing of joy. He did have to admit the fighters had handled themselves well even after the firing had began. He didn't know if they had gotten anyone else, but once Kelly had been taken, he didn't care.

"You have led me on quite a chase, playing Robin Hood and giving these people false hope."

"I don't believe there is such a thing." He closed his eyes and rested his head on the seat back behind him. "Having hope and a belief in something more makes dreary days more bearable. But I guess you wouldn't know much about hope."

Aside from all those years hoping the Doctor would get himself killed, no. The Master looked at the prisoner and wondered how he could be so relaxed. Other captives always ended up begging and pleading for their lives or going into a state of shock. He knew no painkillers had been given - he wanted the man to suffer. It both intrigued and annoyed him that he spent time puzzling on Alan Kelly.

When the plane landed on the Valiant, he strode ahead and let the guards "escort" Kelly behind him. Once on the bridge, everything stopped and all eyes looked in his direction. When Kelly was brought in, the murmurs started and then came the applause.

Kelly gave a little half-smile as if he thought the applause was for him. At least he's not bowing. "I want everyone on the bridge for broadcast in five minutes," he announced over the tannoy.

The Doctor arrived with the Joneses - Clive pushing his chair - followed by Harkness and two armed guards. When they saw Kelly as his prisoner, the Master could see the hope leave them. Perfect!

He moved over to the camera that would broadcast to the world below. He straightened his tie and then switched the camera on by remote. "Peoples of the Earth, I bring you good news. A raid by the Resistance in Britain was foiled with little loss of life. But that is not the news I wish to impart. The Resistance leader known as the Colonel has been taken into custody." He motioned with his hand and Alan was pushed into the camera's range.

"He will remain incarcerated onboard the Valiant so everyone can rest easier knowing this terrorist is behind bars. Continue to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activities to your local authorities. With everyone's cooperation, we will wipe out the Resistance." He shut off the camera.

"Oh, bravo," commented Kelly. "Wonderful speech. The 'everyone can rest easier' bit was a nice touch."

"I'm so glad you approve." The Master reached into his pocket and withdrew the cuff bracelet and snapped it onto Kelly's wrist. "This has been modified for this occasion. Now I truly am the only one who can take it off." He pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to show its twin. "With this I can also control the psi dampener so you can only use your abilities when I allow you." The Master looked at their audience. "Tish."

The girl hesitated, but after a nod from the Doctor, approached him. "Sir?"

The Master reached for her right hand and snapped a third bracelet on her wrist. "You, my dear Tish, will be my backup plan to keep the good colonel under control. Should he do anything I don't like, you will receive his punishment."

"Threatening the weak?" accused Harkness. "I thought you were trying to change your image."

"Oh, look, your spots are showing," added Kelly.

The Master still could not get anything out of the Doctor. He just sat there and watched the performance. "Lock them away!" he ordered, fuming. When they had gone, he fell into a chair. "Where's Tanya? I want a massage!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few months into being at the Master's beck and call again, Alan had realized the Master was fast loosing what little hold he had on reality. He hardly ever set foot on Earth. All leaders had to come aboard the Valiant and that's when he was called in. The Master just loved letting everyone know that the man who once opposed him was now forced to work for him.

During these brief moments when the Master had allowed him to use his abilities, Alan contacted the Doctor. At first, the Doctor had closed his mind, which made Alan think he didn't want any distractions. Alan persisted and the Time Lord had opened up, telling him some of his overall plan but wisely withheld the details. Alan then returned the favour by telling how he allowed himself to be caught.

It wasn't until later that they had begun to formulate a plan to stop the Master. Unfortunately, that couldn't implement it in time to save Japan. The Master had made them all watch to prove how far he would go. But now they were ready. Jack and the Joneses were aware of what they had to do. They just had to wait for a delegation sympathetic to the cause to arrive.

The day the Dutch came to visit was the day they put their plan into action. Using telekinesis. Alan unlocked the cells holding his fellow prisoners and then locked the bulkheads to keep the guards from cutting them off as they made their way to the bridge. Once this was done, Alan put himself into the conversation, nodding when appropriate.

Perhaps ten minutes later, the leader of the delegation's sentence drifted off and all three stared at the door behind the Master.

"What?" Irritated, the Master turned around.

"Are we interrupting?" Jack stood there, rifle in hand, covering the room.

Clive Jones came in wielding an automatic, followed by his family and the Doctor.

"What the hell is this?" the Master demanded.

"Coup, rebellion, revolution, whatever word strikes your fancy," Alan answered as he deftly caught the gun Jack threw to him. He turned it on the Master.

"Any last words before we end this?"

The Master sneered. "You can't do it, Kelly. In battle is one thing, but you're not an executioner."

"We both know a regular gun can't do any real harm, you'll just regenerate. Killing you was not the objective, anyway."

"Hurry up!" Tish warned. "The guards have made it through!"

With his concentration on the Master, Alan didn't see one of the delegates as he came up from behind. Francine called out, and, as he turned, the man knocked his arm, forcing him to drop the gun.

The Master snatched it from the floor and aimed it at Alan. "You neglected to scan them this time, a very costly mistake. Captain, Mr Jones, drop your weapons. If my guards see you with them, they'll open fire. It will make a mess and I'll have no one to clean it up."

"Do it," Alan said without taking his eyes from the Master.

Jack and Clive dropped their guns just as the guards arrived.

"I don't know why I thought I could control you without any way to truly break you. That's the problem with heroes." He fired.

Alan felt it as it struck him in the chest. The look on the Master's face was priceless when he realized it was only a tranquilliser gun. Alan swayed as the sedative began to take affect. "Told you we didn't want to kill you." He fell to his knees. Damn, this is powerful stuff. "Just wanted to fix it," he mumbled. "Fix the timelines. 'S wrong." He fell back, unconscious.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Master was in a terrific mood. Today the Valiant returned to the skies over Britain, back to where it all started. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of his rise to power and he would celebrate by launching his rockets. In addition to that, there had been no further uprisings since that poor attempt a few months back. Buying that Dutch delegate was certainly money well spent. Kelly definitely would have pulled the trigger.

The Joneses had been relocated from the servants' quarters to the cells. Being the softy he was, they remained together. Harkness had been moved down to the bowels of the ship and chained spread-eagle. It made cleaning up after their "sessions" that much easier. Kelly had been put in isolation with the psi dampener always on. Ah, but the best punishment was the Doctor's. The Master smiled as he remembered the Doctor's expression as he saw his new quarters. He thought of the water bowl with "DOG" printed on the side a nice touch. Oh, he knew he should have killed the Doctor, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it - not without humiliating him first.

It was almost 3:00 and he strode the halls towards the bridge, Lucy, ever faithful, following. "Time for my massage," he said to no one and everyone as he entered the room. "Who shall I have today? Tanya. Come on, sweetheart. Lucy, have you met Tanya? She's gorgeous." He took off his jacket and threw it casually onto the table. "Tanya, when we get to the stars, I'm gonna take you to Katria Nova. Whirlpools of gold." He sat down and looked between the two women. "You two should get to know each other. That might be fun." He began to relax as Tanya started to massage his shoulders.

An alarm began to blare and Condition Red was announced over the PA. "What the hell?" The Master stormed up the steps to the bridge proper to see what was wrong. A diagnostic showed a fire just outside engineering.

"Men are already on the way to put it out, sir," one of the technicians showed him.

"Good." He turned to go back down and saw the Doctor aiming his own laser screwdriver at him. "Oh, I see," he said as he raised his hands.

"I told you. I have one thing to say." The Doctor tried to use the screwdriver but it wouldn't work.

The Master laughed as the Doctor kept trying. "Isomorphic controls," he said as he leaned over. He grabbed the screwdriver and backhanded the Doctor, knocking him to the floor. "Which means they only work for me. Like this." He shot at a spot on the wall near Francine's head. "Say sorry!"

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!" she responded, scared and defiant at the same time.

"Mum!" Tish ran to her mother's side.

"Didn't you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?" Lucy picked up his jacket and helped him put it on. "Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do. Take them away."

After a guard had taken the two women away, the Master turned his attention to the Doctor. "Okay. Gotcha." He lifted the other Time Lord to a chair. "There you go, Gramps." He sat on the edge of the table facing his former enemy. "Oh, do you know, I remember the days when the Doctor, oh, that famous Doctor, was waging a time war. Battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handed. Ooh. And look at him now. Stealing screwdrivers. How did he ever come to this? Oh yeah. Me!" He laughed at how the worm had turned.

"I just need you to listen," the Doctor panted.

"No, it's my turn. Revenge! Best served hot! And this time...it's a message for Miss Jones."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alan was lying on his bunk reading when he heard the keys jangling in the lock. He carefully marked his place and sat up as one of the guards wheeled in a TV on a trolley. "What's this, a treat for good behaviour?"

"The Master wanted to make sure you saw this." The guard turned on the machine to static.

The Master appeared onscreen, his hands aiming the camera at his face. "My people, salutations on this, the eve of war. Lovely woman," he added as if talking about a person. "But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there. Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope." He walked to stand beside the Doctor. "But I ask you...how much hope has this man got? Say hello, Gandalf." The Doctor merely stared at the camera. "Except he's not that old but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted, little apes. What if it showed? What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All 900 years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?" He aimed the screwdriver at the Doctor just like he had that first day on the Valiant. "Older and older and older."

Alan watched the screen as the Doctor writhed in agony, unable to help him just as before.

"Down you go, Doctor." The Doctor fell to the floor. "Down, down, down you go." He stopped and there was silence. "Doctor." He bent down and the camera followed to show the Doctor's empty clothes lying on the floor.

Then, up by the neck, there was movement. When the small creature that was now the Doctor peeped its head out, Alan was beyond furious. You bastard! He directed all his anger towards the Master. They were the last of their kind. How could he treat the Doctor this way? It wasn't like he had anything the Master wanted.

He saw the Master wince on camera like he was in pain, but there was nothing... "Oh, crap," Alan said before falling to the floor.

He must have passed out because the next thing he heard was one of the guards. "He just fell and lay there."

"It was the inhibitor. I did warn him not to use his powers." It was the Master.

"Talking about me in the past tense already?" Alan questioned. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He slowly opened his eyes expecting to see the Master's smug face, but instead saw nothing but blackness. Great.

"That inhibitor should have killed you!" the Master complained.

"Well, you'll be happy to know it blinded me."

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

Alan thought that the Master would just wave his hand to test him, so he was surprised when the book hit him on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Just testing."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"How could I not? Help him up," he ordered the guard.

A pair of hands lifted him from under the shoulders. "What's going on?"

"You're less of a threat now than before so I'm taking you back into the general population."

"Oh, how magnanimous."

"Curb your tongue and maybe I'll get you an Alsatian. Take him up to the bridge."

The guard yanked Alan's arm and pulled him along. Fearing the man would purposely walk him into a wall, Alan risked a look through the guard's eyes and put his hands out just in time to keep from smashing his face. "Part of the whole guiding thing is to warn me about stuff like that," he criticized.

"Really? Sorry about that," the guard remarked insincerely. "It won't happen again."

True to his word, the guard kept away from walls. Doors and stairs were another matter. Alan fell a few times so as not to make the man suspicious. I guess taking the lift would have been too easy.

When the doors opened to the bridge, Alan didn't need his guard's vision to know that everyone was staring at him; he could feel it. The Master had arrived before them and made a big show of how lenient he was being. He came over and took Alan by the arm and walked him across the room towards the Doctor.

"What did you do to him?" the Doctor demanded after Alan stumbled into a chair.

"Nothing," the Master answered, affronted. "This is due to you."

Alan didn't want the Doctor shouldering any added guilt so he clarified. I think I broke the inhibitor, he added for the Doctor's benefit.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said softly.

"Oh, please. You're not about to get all mushy, are you? It's time for Kelly to see his new digs. Oh, sorry," he added, not the least bit apologetic. He yanked Alan's arm and pulled him to another section of the room. "Get down on your hands and knees," the Master ordered.

Alan did so slowly and cautiously crept forward until he put his hand in water - a dog dish. He heard the Master chuckle as he drew out his hand and wiped it off.

"I know I said I'd get you a dog, but this saves both trouble and expense."

Alan was not going to get angry, as that was exactly what the Master wanted. "It's a bit smaller than what I was looking for," he said, peering inside, "but it seems to be in a good area with nice neighbours." He turned his head to where he hoped the Master was standing. "Sold."

"I don't believe you grasp the concept," the Master said coldly. "You are no better than a dog and there is only one person lower than you."

Alan had the feeling that the Master wanted to hit him, but thought better of it and walked away. He gave what he hoped was a glare at the Time Lord's back. "To quote my friend Will, 'the cat will mew and the dog will have his day'."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night, the Master went back to the conference room, Lucy clinging to his arm. The room was quiet enough for him to hear Kelly breathing as he slept. The Doctor, however, was watching his every move. "Tomorrow, they launch." He strolled into the room, hands in his pockets. "We're opening up a rift in the Braccatolian space. They won't see us coming. Kinda scary."

"Then stop."

Oh, how cute. The Doctor thinks he can stop me. "Once the empire is established and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then... it stops."

He peered at the Doctor through the bars. "The drumming. The never-ending drumbeat." He thought back to that night as a child when he stood in front of the Untempered Schism. That was the night this all started. "Ever since I was a child. I looked into the vortex. That's when it chose me. The drumming, the call to war. Can't you hear it? Listen, it's there now. Right now. Tell me you can hear it, Doctor. Tell me."

"It's only you," the Doctor replied, verging on pity.

"Good." That meant he was chosen and not in need of anyone's pity, least of all the Doctor's.

The door slid open and one of the 'Toclafane' floated in. "Tomorrow, the war," it said. "Tomorrow we rise never to fall."

"You see?" The Master faced the Doctor. "I'm doing it for them! You should be grateful. After all, you love them so very, very much." He walked over and sat at the table. "I took Lucy to Utopia. A Time Lord and his human companion. I took her to see the stars. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Trillions of years into the future," she said softly. "To the end of the universe."

"Tell him what you saw," the Master prompted.

"Dying. Everything dying. The whole of creation was falling apart. And I thought...there's no point. No point to anything. Not ever."

"And it's all your fault," he said to make his nemesis squirm. He continued telling the Doctor what his favourite species had been reduced to. "You should have seen it, Doctor. Furnaces burning, the last of humanity, screaming at the dark. All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons, it all turned inwards. They cannibalised themselves."

"We made ourselves so pretty," said the floating sphere.

"Regressing into children. But it didn't work. The universe was collapsing around them."

"Then the Mister Master arrived and promised to help us, to save us from the dark."

"The Paradox Machine," said the Doctor.

"My masterpiece, Doctor. A living TARDIS, strong enough to hold the paradox in place, allowing the past and the future to collide in infinite majesty."

"But you're changing history," the Doctor protested. "Not just Earth, the entire universe."

"I'm a Time Lord. I have that right."

"But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?"

The human from the end of the universe answered. "We've come backwards in time to build a brand new empire lasting 100 trillion years."

"With me as their master. Time Lord and humans combined. Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?" He stood and walked back to the Doctor's cage. "Human race, greatest monster of them all. Night-night." With his arm about Lucy, he walked out. The sphere followed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan dosed on and off in his tent and heard part of the Master's conversation with the Doctor. No wonder Lucy was putting up no resistance. She had been shown the future of the human race and decided that nothing she did - or would do - meant anything. Somehow, he had to get through to her, make her realize she had to live in the now.

Perhaps an hour or so later, he heard the door slide open. He then heard the Master as he spoke to the Doctor. "Guess what? You'll get to have a reunion just in time for the launch tomorrow. I'm on my way to escort Miss Jones back personally."

"Just like you did with Alan," the Doctor replied.

"Of course! They both escaped from me, so it's only right that I'm the one to bring them in." His footsteps headed back towards the door. "Sleep well!"

Once the door had closed behind the Master, Alan made his way to the Doctor's cage. "He sounds like the cat that swallowed the canary. Do you want me to go down and help her?"

"No, it's all part of the plan." The Doctor looked at him quizzically. "Do you mean you can?"

"Everything's coming back, even the vision. Though, I remember you as taller."

The Doctor chuckled which was a good sign. "It does have its compensations. He pretty much leaves me alone unless he wants to gloat."

"Yeah, I heard some of that earlier. Do you think that's why Lucy's the way she is?"

"Most likely. We need a chance to talk to her alone."

"You mean like now?" Alan headed for the door. "Don't wait up."

He made his way through the ship to the Master's quarters and passed very few guards so made it in good time. Surprisingly, there was no one at the door. I guess they don't think anyone would dare approach him in his quarters. He sensed Lucy was inside alone. The door opened and he stepped inside. She wasn't in the sitting room, so he headed for one of the other doors and knocked.

"I'm fine," came her reply. "Go away."

He ignored her and opened the door. She was sitting at a vanity looking in the mirror. He could see the redness just under her right eye. "That's going to leave a nasty bruise."

She turned at the sight of his reflection. "What are you doing here?" she demanded as she clutched her silk robe close.

"I've waited too long for this." He stopped when he saw her deer-in-the-headlights gaze. "Okay, that did not come out right. I just want to talk to you,
Lucy, that's all." He spotted a chair resting against the wall that was just far enough away to keep her at ease, yet close enough for them to converse.

"I'll sit over here if it makes you feel better."

"Harry would kill you if he knew you were here."

She still calls him 'Harry'? "That's why I waited for him to leave. Are you going to call the guards and have me hauled off yet again?"

"No," she answered after a pause.

"Thank you." Alan leaned forward in his chair. "I heard what you saw when the Master took you in the TARDIS, but how did that affect you? How did that make you feel?" Damn, I feel like a shrink.

"It was cold, dark and dismal. There was nothing, just emptiness. I saw what the human race becomes." She looked at him, her eyes hollow from what she had witnessed. "What's the point of doing anything if we end up like that?"

"People just need to worry about the next couple generations. Where you went is way too far ahead for anyone now to even worry about. Hell, it's even too far ahead for people of my time to worry about. Not that there's anyone there now."

"What do you mean?"

"With this paradox in place, the Master has changed the future. Everyone I knew - family, friends - they've all been erased like they never existed."

"Then how are you still here?"

"Despite all the travelling I do, I still don't know they whys and wherefores. The Doctor would say something along the line that because I was here for so long before it happened, I became part of this time." He sighed. "The act of opening the rift through time did away with every human life that would have ever existed. Add onto that the lives of aliens who existed only due to human interaction."

"But he said the new human empire would be even better, I never thought..."

"When an empire is created out of war and bloodshed, that's the only way it can be kept." He stood and headed for the door. "You have a choice, Lucy. You can do something to aid the human race, or do nothing and condemn them all to a half-life - if that. It's all in how you want to be remembered."

"Alan?" He halted and looked back. "Thank you for not thinking me a lost cause."

"There's always a chance at redemption. You just have to be willing to take that first step." He smiled and she gave him a small one in return. "Goodnight, Lucy."

He teleported back to the Doctor and told him of his conversation. "I think I got through to her. As long as she can stay strong against the Master, we've got an ally."

"And if not?"

"Then I guess I'll be part of the entertainment tomorrow."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Master walked the empty streets of Bexley looking for the house sheltering Martha Jones. It amused him to think that only a year ago, people were going about their business and now they were cowering in cramped, crowded conditions. Oh, how he loved it!

He stopped in the middle of the road and called her name. "Martha! Martha Jo-hones! I can see you!" He was getting frustrated with this game of hide-and-seek. "Out you come, little girl. Come and meet your master." There was no response, no sound. "Anybody? Nobody? No? Nothing?" Now came the part he enjoyed.

"Positions!" The soldiers prepared to fire on the houses. "I'll give the order unless you surrender. Ask yourself, what would the Doctor do?"

After a few moments, of the doors opened and out she came, clad in black like Little Miss Commando. "Oh, yes!" he clapped. "Oh, very well done! Good girl! He trained you well." He then saw the bag over her shoulder as she walked into the street. "Bag. Give me the bag." She began to walk towards him. "No, stay there. Just throw it."

She took off the pack and threw it to the ground between them. The Master then fired his laser screwdriver, destroying the bag and everything inside, including the weapon that could kill him. "And now, good companion, your work is done."

At that point, a man came running out of the same house Martha had been in. He charged, a gun aimed at the Master. "No!" he screamed.

The Master calmly changed his aim and shot the man instead. Martha glared at him as he chuckled. "But you...when you die, the Doctor should be witness, hmm?"

He inhaled deeply. "Almost dawn, Martha. And planet Earth marches to war." He nodded. "Take her."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan heard all the fuss early on and was awake by the time the Master came to get him. "Time for a reunion as promised."

He continued to pretend to be blind and Tish came to escort him away. "What's happening?" she asked.

"Martha. He has Martha."

The Master was then ready to broadcast globally. "Citizens of Earth, rejoice and observe."

The door to the conference room slid open and Martha entered, escorted by two guards. She walked forward alone and Alan watched as she saw her family and friends. Jack even made a move towards her, but halted when his guard lifted his rifle.

When she reached the base of the stairs, the Master spoke. "Your teleport device, in case you thought I'd forgotten." She reached into a pocket, took out the device and tossed it to him. "And now...kneel." She did and he smiled. The last of his opposition
Martha did as instructed and the only thing that kept Alan from rushing the Master was the fact that all of this was part of the Doctor's plan.

"Down below, the fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand ships set to burn across the universe." He spoke into the comms unit. "Are we ready?"

"The fleet awaits your signal," came the reply. "Rejoice."

"Three minutes to align the black hole converters. Counting down." A clock on the wall began ticking away the seconds. "I never could resist a ticking clock. My children, are you ready?" he called to the awaiting spheres.

"We will fly and blaze and slice! We will fly and blaze and slice!"

Those child-like voices spouting such cold-blooded phrases still made Alan cringe. They had to be stopped or everything would change completely. Alan would become a remnant of some forgotten age if he survived. Lord knows, he'd go down fighting. From his cage, the Doctor caught his eye and shook his head. Alan took a deep breath to keep his temper.

"Are you okay?" Tish whispered.

How sweet of her to worry about him with all that was going on. "I just find this hard to watch," he said with a wink.

The Master continued. "At zero, to mark this day, the child, Martha Jones, will die. Ha, my first blood. Ha, any last words? No?" He turned to the Doctor.

"Such a disappointment, this one. Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex. This one's useless!" He looked back at Martha.

"Bow your head. And so it falls to me, the Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lords! From this day forward--"

Martha began to chuckle.

"What? What's so funny?"

Alan smiled to see the Master so put out during his big speech.

"A gun?" Martha questioned.

"What about it?"

"A gun in four parts?"

"Yes, and I destroyed it," the Master said like he was speaking to someone a little slow.

"A gun in four parts scattered across the world? I mean, come on. Did you really believe that?"

"The whole thing was a smokescreen," Alan said softly. "They wanted him to think she had a weapon."

"What do you mean?" the Master demanded.

"As if I would ask her to kill," said the Doctor.

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," the Master said, trying to turn things to his advantage. "I've got her exactly where I want her."

"But I knew what Professor Docherty would do. The Resistance knew about her son. I told her about the gun, so she'd get me here at the right time."

Docherty! I had forgotten about her.

"Oh, but you're still gonna die!" The Master was becoming impatient.

"Don't you wanna know what I was doing travelling the world?"

"Tell me." He sat on the stairs.

"I told a story, that's all. No weapons, just words. I did just what the Doctor said. I went across the continents all on my own. And everywhere I went, I found the people, and I told them my story. I told them about the Doctor. And I told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everyone would know about the Doctor."

Oh you sneaky thing, Alan projected at Martha. Tell me like it's not really even part of the plan. Glad I could help. He was rewarded with a small smile.

"Faith and hope? Is that all?

"No, 'cause I gave them an instruction. Just as the Doctor said" Martha stood. "I told them that if everyone thinks of one word, at one specific time-"

"Nothing will happen!" He stood. " Is that your weapon? Prayer?"

"Right across the world. One word, just one thought, at one moment... but with 15 satellites!"

"What?"

Oh, you've got him now. Brilliant!

"The Archangel Network." Jack caught on to the plan as well.

"A telepathic field binding the whole human race together, with all of them, every single person on Earth, thinking the same thing at the same time. And that word...is Doctor."

The countdown reached zero and a glowing field surrounded the Doctor as he began to grow.

Alan couldn't tell if the Master was just annoyed or scared that things were now out of his control.

"Stop it. No, no, no, no, you don't!"

Alan then joined in with the others as they closed their eyes and simply said the Doctor's name over and over. He could hear it from the display screens as people all over the world gathered in groups chanting his name.

"Stop this right now! Stop it!" The Master was still trying to regain control.

Alan opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Lucy join in with the chanting. He then looked over at the Doctor and saw that he was free of the cage and back to his "Gandalf" stage.

"I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices."

"I order you to stop!" the Master demanded.

The Doctor finally returned to his normal self. "The one thing you can't do. Stop them thinking."

Alan laughed with relief along with Martha and Jack. The Master was none too pleased as he stood in shock on the stairs.

Still bathed in the glow of psychic energy, the Doctor levitated. "Tell me the human race is degenerate now when they can do this."

Martha ran to her family but Alan barely spared her a glance. He was too entranced by the interaction of the last two Time Lords.

"No!" the Master shouted as he fired his laser screwdriver at the Doctor.

The field around the Doctor simply deflected it. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Then I'll kill them!" The Master aimed his laser screwdriver at the Jones family.

Alan made to rush the Master but it was unnecessary as the Doctor channelled humanity's psychic energy to throw the screwdriver across the room with telekinesis.

Unarmed, the Master panicked. "You can't do this! You can't do- It's not fair!"

"And you know what happens now."

"No!" The Master began backing away as the Doctor floated towards him. "No!" he backed down the stairs and ended up grovelling against the wall. "No! No!"

"You wouldn't listen."

"No!"

"Because you know what I'm going to say."

"No!" The Master curled into a foetal position.

The Doctor landed, walked over to the Master and wrapped his arms about him. "I forgive you."

The Master stopped his whimpering as if he remembered something. "My children!"

The Doctor stood and yelled to Jack. "Captain! The paradox machine!"

"You men! With me! You stay here!" Surprisingly, the soldiers obeyed the man who, just moments ago, had been their prisoner.

The Master, it seemed, was not about to give up. He pulled out the vortex manipulator and activated it. The Doctor tried to stop him by grabbing hold and they both disappeared.

"Christ! It's never easy with you two, is it?" Alan muttered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Master was the first to stand on the rocky cliff. He was not about to give up. He spread his arms. "Now it ends, Doctor. Now it ends."

"We've got control of the Valiant," the Doctor said, stating the obvious. "You can't launch."

"Oh, but I've got this." The Master took out his remote. "Black hole converter inside every ship. If I can't have this world, Doctor, then neither can you. We shall stand upon this Earth, together, as it burns!"

"Weapon after weapon after weapon. All you do is talk and talk and talk." The Doctor was up on his high horse again. "But over all these years...and all these disasters, I've always had the greatest secret of them all. I know you. Explode those ships, you kill yourself. That's the one thing you can never do." The Doctor held out his hand. "Give that to me."

I was so right when I called him sanctimonious. He won't give up on anyone. But he does know me and my weaknesses like I know his, which makes running a bluff nearly impossible. He slapped the remote detonator into the Doctor's hand.

At that moment, the Earth shook causing them to fall to the ground. I still have a way off this miserable rock. He reached for the manipulator, possible destinations running through his head. The Doctor saw what he was doing and grabbed for it as well. Before the Master could stop him, the Doctor hit the return switch sending them back to the bridge of the Valiant.

The ship was buffeted as time reset itself with the paradox machine broken. He clung to the rails as he waited for things to settle down and he could escape.

"Everyone down!" the Doctor ordered, "Time is reversing!" He fell to the floor by Martha and laughed like he was enjoying it.

Soon everything stilled and the Master knew the Doctor had wrecked yet another plan as he felt time change around them.

The Doctor stood and checked the controls. "The paradox is broken. We've reverted back, one year and one day. Two minutes past 8:00 in the morning."

The Doctor switched on the communications and they all heard a panicked man's voice. "This is UNIT Central. What's happened up there? We just saw the President assassinated!"

"You see? Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived," the Doctor said. "Everything back to normal. Planet Earth restored. None of it happened. The rockets, the terror, it never was."

While the Doctor was attempting to explain what had happened to the Joneses, the Master made a break for the door. There was still a chance he could disappear until he could get off this planet. The door slid open and his plans were dashed as Harkness and two guards entered.

"Whoa, big fella! You don't want to miss the party." He turned to one of the guards "Cuffs!"

The Master stood there resignedly as Harkness restrained his hands behind his back. How degrading! From ruler of the world to this!

"So, what do we do with this one?" asked the captain as he pushed him back into the room.

Mr Jones and Tish wanted to kill him but Mrs Jones took it one step further and aimed a gun at him. "Go on! Do it!" Maybe the drumming will stop!

"Francine, you're better than him." The Doctor reached out, took her hand and she dropped the gun to the floor as the Doctor gather her in a hug. Martha then embraced her mother and led her away.

The Doctor had taken away yet another option. "You still haven't answered the question. What happens to me?"

The Doctor faced him. "You're my responsibility from now on. The only Time Lord left in existence."

"Are you sure?" Kelly asked.

The Doctor nodded.

Harkness went to stand beside the Doctor. "Yeah, but you can't trust him."

"No. The only safe place for him is the TARDIS."

Ugh, and I thought I had reached the lowest point but being the Doctor's...pet? "You mean you're just gonna...keep me?"

"Hmm. If that's what I have to do." He looked at Harkness and Kelly. "It's time to change. Maybe I've been wandering for too long. Now I'll have someone to care for."

A gunshot rang out and the Master felt the bullet enter his stomach and he staggered backwards. Stunned, he looked up and saw the gun in Lucy's hand. How could she turn against me? Why did she shoot me? I gave her everything!

The Doctor rushed to him and lowered him to the floor, cradling his head and shoulders. "There you go. I've got you. I've got you."

First Chantho and now Lucy. "Always the women."

"I didn't see her," the Doctor said apologetically.

"Dying in your arms. Happy now?"

"You're not dying, don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate."

"No." The Master refused. He would not spend the rest of his lives locked away in the TARDIS.

"One little bullet. Come on."

"I guess you don't know me so well. I refuse." Defiant to the end, that's me.

"Regenerate. Just regenerate. Please! Please! Just regenerate! Come on!"

I've finally got the Doctor to plead with me but not quite in the way I wanted. Is that a tear in his eye? "And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?"

"You've got to. Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons? Remember the Axons? And the Daleks? We're the only two left, there's no one else. Regenerate!"

"How about that? I win." He needed to know something that only the Doctor could answer. "Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?" He discovered the answer for himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan could not get the picture of the Doctor rocking as he held the Master's body out of his mind. He had never heard such a plaintive sound before and had never seen the Doctor have such an emotional outburst. But to finally realize you're not alone, that there is someone with the same reference points and background, only to lose it one last time.

While Jack had taken care of Lucy, Alan had walked over to the Doctor, crouched down beside him, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, I'll help you with him."

When the Doctor looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Alan had wanted to comfort him. Without a word, Alan had helped the Doctor lift the Master's body and Alan took them back down to Earth. The Doctor then gently laid the body down and the two of them had gathered wood to build a funeral pyre. By the time they had finished, it was dark. Alan had then gone to find something to use as a shroud and some bindings. They had then wrapped the body and Alan helped the Doctor lift the body onto the pyre before retreating.

Now he sat on the dune and watched as the Doctor stared at the pyre a few moments before lighting the fire. He then walked over and sat next to Alan on the sand. Some would think this too honourable a death after all the Master had done, but it was the right thing. If they had left the body with the proper authorities, there would be a post-mortem and then everyone would know an alien had been elected Prime Minister.

The Doctor put a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Okay."

Alan activated his machine and took them back to the TARDIS. "I thought you'd like to get to work fixing her as soon as possible."

The Doctor rested his hand on one of the coral buttresses. "Thank you."

"I'll just go and check on the others then come by to see if you want help, okay?"

Alan made his way up to the bridge where he knew everything would be happening. He slipped in quietly as Jack and Martha spoke with as much of the crew as could fit into the room. It seemed to be a pep rally and counselling session wrapped into one.

"Just remember," Jack was saying, "outside the Valiant, no one will have these memories. More than likely, you'll have nightmares because of what you've witnessed, but don't let them rule you."

I wonder how many memories Jack's had to come to terms with.

"Just stick to the story when questioned and you should be okay," Martha added with an encouraging smile.

As everyone filed out, some of the soldiers spotted Alan and saluted. His status as a superior officer was restored. He walked further into the room and Martha ran over and wrapped him in a huge hug. Jack, of course, had to get in on the action. This was the first physical contact the three of them had had in over a year - or a couple of hours, depending how you looked at it.

"Where is he?" asked Martha.

"Back in the TARDIS. I thought he could do with some time alone."

"And the other?" Jack wanted to know.

"We burned the body. He barely spoke the whole time."

"I guess fixing the TARDIS will be a type of therapy," said Martha. "Of course, when we see him, he'll say he's fine and not want to talk about it."

"The last one wasn't much for sharing either," said Jack.

"None of the ones I've met have been," Alan agreed.

"So we'll just have to let him know we're ready to listen," Martha said as she strode out the door.

"I told him we'd help put the TARDIS back to rights but he'll probably be in the midst of it. Also, I'd recommend neutral topics of conversation to keep him from closing up even further," Alan told them both as he and Jack joined Martha.

"Hey! I am very good with people!"

"Sure, when you want to charm them into bed. I'm just not sure how you'd handle a grieving friend who's just lost the only other of his kind."

"Fair point."

"You sound like a psychiatrist," commented Martha.

That reminded Alan of the last time he sounded like a shrink. "What about Lucy?"

"Under arrest for killing her husband," Martha informed him. "An abusive marriage won't hold much weight as a defence since most of it took place during a year no one else remembers. She'll need some serious counselling."

"Maybe I could put in a good word for her."

Jack stopped and stared at him. "What? Why would you do that?"

Alan told Jack about his conversation with Lucy. "So I feel a bit responsible," he said as they continued. "No, don't say it. I know I didn't make her pull the trigger, but I did plant the idea in her head. It's the least I can do." Jack smiled at him. "What?"

"It's just so...you."

They arrived at the TARDIS, and, as predicted, the Doctor had it torn apart, wires strewn everywhere. The Doctor was only visible from the knees downwards as the rest of him was hidden beneath the console. The TARDIS glowed a little brighter as they entered.

"The rest of the pit crew is here, Doctor!" declared Jack. "What would you like us to do?"

The Doctor scooted out and climbed up from under the gantry. His eyes were still a bit red, but he'd only blame the dust. He put them all to work at various tasks and thankfully no one brought up the recent "incident" so things went smoothly.

Some time later, the Doctor declared the TARDIS ready for a test drive.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oh, she was so happy to be flying once more, to be connected to the vortex again. This was dimmed by the anguish her Doctor felt over the death of another Time Lord. But he had his human friends to help him.

She materialized at the designated coordinates and knew one would be leaving. She had relied on Alan during their time imprisoned together. He had acted like an anchor to her, a connection to her Doctor until he found her once again. He included her in his goodbyes and she saw how his friends greeted him when he left. She touched his mind with a gentle "thank you" before dematerialising.

She next materialized close to where this had all begun. The three of them stepped outside but remained close enough that she could monitor them. Now Jack was leaving. She would miss him too. She didn't understand why her Doctor was so surprised at Jack's words. She had sensed the similarities in the life-signs when they first met him but it wasn't until the first time on New Earth that she believed it.

The next stop was outside the Jones home so Martha could check on her family. She knew that Martha would choose her family first and tried to comfort her Doctor as best she could but stopped when she felt a horrible pain tear through her. She buckled and shook. What has he done now?

The Eagle Chronicles 33: Jess and Jamie (2/2)

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 20:45:57 GMT

Title: Jess and Jamie
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 13,024 (total)
Summary Steven's adopted son and his cousin become involved in a bit of intrigue.
Notes: Steven takes a backseat here as the next generation gets most of the action. The setting in the first part is my hometown so street names and places are real. The title is a bit lame, sorry about that.

They pulled up in front of the main entrance to Eton College. Jessie stared up at the impressive towers. She got out of the car as Jamie came around to her side. "Intimidating, isn't it?" he remarked.

"It's magnificent."

"I guess it's like that for a non-student. C'mon, Harry's probably waiting for us." He held the door open for her. At the front desk he was greeted with a friendly smile. "I'm here to pick up Harry. Do you know where he is?"

"He's in the lounge waiting for you, m'lord. Would you like me to ring for him?"

"No, thanks. We'll get him ourselves." Jamie strolled across the foyer and into a lounge lined with antiques. The floors were covered by Persian rugs and the oaken walls were hung with portraits of past headmasters and famous students. Two young boys were playing cards at a table. "I hope you're not cheating, Harry," Jamie said with a smile.

The boy with light brown hair turned to face them. "Jamie! You're back! I was hoping you'd come before Andrew left. He didn't believe you would." He stopped when he saw Jessie.

"Allow me to introduce your cousin. Jessica Oakes, this is Henry Stuart, the Prince of Wales."

"Pleased to meet you," said Henry. "Um, this is my friend Andrew MacLiesh. He's waiting for his mom."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," said Jess.

"Where are your bags? We'd better get on the road if we want to be at St. James Square in time for dinner," Jamie told him. "It was nice meeting you, Andrew. Enjoy your hols!"

Jamie picked up Henry's two bags and put them in the back seat. Jessie could tell Henry was bursting with questions, but being polite, couldn't start the conversation. "How old are you, Henry?"

"Seven. You can call me Harry. Jamie and Uncle James do."

"It doesn't seem to suit you. Can I call you something else?"

"Nothing silly."

"No. I was thinking more along the lines of 'Hal'."

"Digging up your Shakespeare, eh?" remarked Jamie.

"I like it. I like you, too, Jessica."

"Jessie. I like you, Hal." Jamie pulled off the main road. "Where are we going?"

"I figured since we were this close, we'd stop at Windsor. Not too long, mind," he emphasized for Henry. "Just long enough for Jessie to see where her grandfather is buried."

The impressive tower of Windsor Castle rose from the hill in front of them. Jessie held her breath as they drove up to the gates. The guard looked at them, saluted, then opened the gates. Jamie pulled up in front of the main door and waved off the assistance of the footman. "We're just here for a quick visit, John."

"Yes, m'lord. The crowd has thinned out some. It was quite busy earlier." John held the door open for Jessie and Henry.

"We shouldn't be more than half-an-hour or so. I don't think the car will be in the way."

"Very good, m'lord. Will you be requiring anything?"

"No, thank you, John. I'll let you know when we leave."

"Yes, m'lord."

Jamie led Jessica across the grounds to St. George's Chapel. Henry was eager to engage her in conversation. "How long will you be staying? Maybe you can stay weekends here. I'm sure you'll like it."

"I'll be here for at least the summer. That should give us more than enough time."

Jamie held the door open for them and Henry showed her the way to her grandfather's crypt. Jamie took the key out of his pocket and opened the iron gate. Inside was a bust of a woman. The plaque underneath read: Queen Amanda, beloved wife of James III. There was also a portrait of two men with a Scottish terrier at their feet. She realized that she was looking at her grandfather and his brother. She stared at the picture of her grandfather. He was quite handsome; brown hair and eyes, and a strong face. Set back into the walls were three stone sarcophagi. She reverently ran her hand across each of them. These people were family she had never known. Jamie's right. I should learn my heritage.

"I hate to rush you, but we'd better be going."

"Okay. I guess I can come back another time."

They arrived in London close to an hour later and stopped at Jamie's place first. He gave Jessie the key and she opened the door while he carried in two pieces of luggage. Henry tagged along after them. Jamie showed her to her room and put her suitcase down on the bed. "It's not much, but it's home."

"This is nice. The way you were talking, you'd think you lived in a matchbox."

"The bathroom's right down the hall, last door on the left. I'm going to put my own bag away then see what Harry's gotten into."

After freshening up, Jessica found the two of them in the kitchen going through the mail. "Anything interesting?"

Jamie shrugged. "A few party invitations plus an alumni weekend at Cambridge. I'll give them a closer look later. Are you ready to go?"

"Sure." Henry took Jessie's hand and practically dragged her out of the flat as Jamie turned to lock the door.

They arrived at 11 St. James Square less than ten minutes later. Henry ran up the front steps and threw the door open. All Jessie could hear was barking and shouts. Jamie joined her on the stairs. "Don't worry. It's only Harry and Macduff greeting each other."

The two of them were greeted in the front hall by a tall man with black hair and deep blue eyes. He smiled. "C'mon in. We've been expecting you."

"Yeah. Sorry we're a little late. We stopped at Windsor." Jamie shut the door and gave his father a hug. "How have you been?"

"Busy. Alison and I finally got a breather. No commitments for a week." He gave Jessie a hug. "It's good to see you again. You look wonderful. Dinner is ready, and, if we don't hurry, Harry will have eaten it all."

Alison served dinner herself and asked how things were in America. Jessie told them how her parents were and mentioned the polo match. "What do you have planned?" Alison asked.

"I received a few invitations and thought we'd play it by ear," answered Jamie.

"What about this weekend? Surely you're gong to that?"

"It's this weekend? I thought it was next week. That doesn't give me much time." He looked at his adoptive father. "How did you know?"

Alison answered for him. "We had a call from Andrew. He also said to tell you that Oxford demanded a re-match of the boat race."

"A re-match? That was a perfect race, everything above board."

"What's their argument?" asked Jessie.

"They claim we started before the gun. We blew 'em away, anyway."

"Do you think you can do it again?" Henry asked through a mouthful of ice cream.

"I'm not sure. It depends what kind of shape everyone's in. Should prove to be fun." He saw Jessie try to hide a yawn. "Mind if we leave the car?"

"What have you got in mind?" Steven was suspicious.

"I thought Jessie might want to walk back. You know, get a feel for the place."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," said Alison with a smile. "The weather is perfect for a stroll."

"Can I go?"

"No, you can't, squirt. You're staying here, remember?" Harry frowned, but accepted. "Maybe we can go to the zoo. I'm not making any promises." He turned to Jessie. "Ready?"

She stood from the table. "Thank you both for dinner. It was wonderful." She gave her hosts hugs before she went over to Henry. "Good night, Hal. If Jamie's too busy, maybe we can do something. You can take me sightseeing." She gave him a kiss on the forehead which made him every happy boy.

The two stepped out into the summer night and Jessie breathed deep. "Alison was right, this weather is perfect." The square looked idyllic in the moonlight. "Where did we walk?"

"We can either go along Picadilly or cut through the park. It's up to you."

"Which will prove more fun? Will there be lots of people walking the street at this hour? I'd get a kick out of people-watching."

"Then Picadilly it is."

Jessie was impressed by the attention they attracted. She instinctively walked closer to Jamie so people would know they were together. She was proud that her cousin was so handsome. She could see the envious stares of the young women who passed by. She heard a voice calling, "Jamie! Jamie Stuart!"

Jamie stopped and looked around. He realized they were in front of the Ritz and a young woman was waving at him. "I don't believe it."

"Who is it?"

"Mags. She's a friend I wanted you to meet. C'mon." He walked to the front entrance. The doorman wasn't going to let them in because of their clothes. He refused to believe Jamie's claims, but gave in when the same young woman rushed up.

"They're with me." She walked between the two of them. "You must be Cousin Jessica. Jamie told me he planned to bring you back. When did you get in? Oh, excuse my poor manners. I'm Margaret Weston-Smythe. You can call me Mags."

Jessie was quite taken by surprise at this. She hadn't expected to be bombarded by questions. "We came in today."

"We came over on the Queen Anne."

"So, what are you doing tonight, your cousin's first night in London?"

"We hadn't given it much thought. What do you recommend?"

Mags thought quietly for a few moments. "The Marquee. There's a great local band playing there."

"Great!" Jamie was enthused. "Since Jess and I aren't dressed for dancing, why don't we go to my place to change?"

"What about my parents?"

"I don't think they'd want to go. Do you want me to make your excuses?"

"No. I can think of something." She smiled. "Helping a friend introduce a cousin to London. Wait here, I shouldn't be too long."

They arrived at Jamie's flat about fifteen minutes later. "Do you think you could help me pick out a dress to wear tonight? I want to make a good impression. Jamie, what's the matter?"

Jamie was standing in the doorway looking into the flat. "It's been ransacked," he said quietly.

"What?" Mags and Jessie pushed past him into the living room. There were cushions and pillows strewn about the floor, desk drawers were open and papers littered the floor. "I'm going to check my room to see if anything was taken," said Jessie.

"I'd better do the same."

"I'll start cleaning up in here."

Jamie came out of his room twenty minutes later and saw the two girls adding final touches to the room. "I don't get it. Nothing was taken."

"Are you gonna call the police?" asked Jessie, sitting on the couch.

"No need. Nothing was stolen."

"What about 'Breaking and Entering'? You can't just look the other way." Mags brushed off her clothes. Ever the lady, thought Jess.

"Whoever went through this was looking for something specific, something they think we have. If they didn't find it this time, they're sure to try again."

"So?"

"Mags, you're the one with the hush-hush job, and you need me to explain? We may be ransacked again."

"Shouldn't we try to figure out what it is they're after? Maybe that way we'll get the upper hand."

"Spoken like a true Stuart," said Jamie with a laugh. "I'd better bring in those cases. No, I can't, the car's at Dad's." He collapsed into a chair. "Sorry about your first night in England, Jess, but right now I don't feel like going out."

"That's okay, Jamie. We have plenty of other nights ahead. I think I'll go straighten my room. It's been nice meeting you, Mags."

"We don't have to make this an early night. We can still have some fun." She walked over to Jamie's stereo. "Is this new?" she asked, flipping through his albums. She pulled out a Beatle album and put it on. "We can dance and clean at the same time!"

*************************************************

The next morning while walking to St. James Square in order to pick up Jamie's car, they were stopped once again by Mags. "What is it now, Mags?" asked Jamie. "I thought you had a life of your own."

"I just thought I'd help Jessie find something to wear to the Regatta."

"The Henley Regatta? Isn't that where they wear Edwardian clothes?"

"I know this great little place off Regent Street where they always sell them this time of year."

Jamie could tell that Jessie really wanted to go with Mags. "Go ahead. I've got a few things to do today." He smiled. "You'll be in good hands with Mags."

"Then it's settled." Mags took Jessie by the hand. "You'll love it." Jessie turned and waved good-bye to Jamie before she was whisked away down Picadilly.

Jamie continued on to his father's house. The first thing he did was open the boot and pull out his small case. Looking at it closer, Jamie could see that it seemed more battered than when he packed it yesterday morning. He brought it inside. Dawson, the butler, told him that his Grace was in the study. Jamie knocked on the door before entering.

"Good morning, Jamie. Did you and Jess have a good time last night?"

"It certainly was eventful." He proceeded to tell Steven the whole story, up to and including the discovery that the case wasn't his. "So I think they'll be coming back for it."

"Well, let's just see what this is all about." Steven tried Jamie's keys to open it, but failed. "So much for the conventional way." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a slim leather case. He unzipped it, chose a tool, and began to work on the lock.

"You still have those things?"

"Old habits dies hard. Once a thief. . ." He worked on both locks and they soon popped open. "Well, well, well." Inside the case was, aside from the odd bits of paper and such, a small cloth pouch. He opened it and poured the contents into his hand. "Looks like we got ourselves some valuable gems."

"Do you know what they are?" Jamie looked across the desk at them.

"I'm not sure, but I think we have some of the finest examples of one of the rarest gems in existence." Steven fingered them lovingly.

"Really? What are they?"

"Black opals from Australia. They certainly took the long way."

"That's all well and good, but why did they choose me?"

"Because Customs won't go through your luggage. Pretty ingenious, if you ask me. The only snag is that you left before they could get the case back."

"So what do we do? We can't let them have the gems." He picked up one of the opals between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'll call Dolittle and see what he has to say." He picked up the phone and called Superintendent John Dolittle of Scotland Yard, an old friend from his war days.

Henry came into the room. "Hi, Jamie. Are we going to the zoo now?"

"Maybe later." Jamie was trying to listen to Steven's conversation. "Something important's come up."

Henry picked up one of the opals. "What a neat rock. It's so shiny."

"Harry, that's not a rock, it's a black opal, a very rare gem." Jamie turned to his father who ha hung up the phone. "Well?"

"He's bringing over an expert who specializes in opals." He looked at his nephew. "And what do you want?"

"To go to the zoo. If you're busy, maybe Jessie'll wanna take me." He looked around the room. "Where is she?"

"Shopping with Mags."

******************************************************

"Jessie, that dress is perfect," Mags said after two hours of searching.

Jessie finally decided on a cream cotton dress with white lace at the collar and cuffs. She was pleased with herself and felt that she would have fit in Edwardian society. "What about you, Mags? What are you going to wear?"

"Oh, I've already bought mine. Grey with black trim."

Jessie came out of the dressing room. "I'll pay you back for this," she said, handing her dress to the salesclerk.

"I know you will, otherwise I wouldn't have offered."

They left the store and walked down Regent Street towards Picadilly. Mags began to point out stores and give her opinion on them. At the Circus, Jessie heard her name but didn't think it was for her until she heard her last name as well. A man waved to her from the opposite corner and made his way across. Jessie recognized Dennis Howell.

"I didn't think you heard me," he said with a smile. "I yelled as loud as I could." He turned to Mags. "Hello."

"Hello."

"I'm sorry. Dennis Howell, Lady Margaret Weston-Smythe. Lady Margaret, Dennis Howell. We met on the Queen Anne."

"Pleased to meet you," said Dennis. "I was wondering, would the two of you care to accompany me to lunch?"

"We'd love to," said Mags, enamored.

"Where do you have in mind?" asked Jessie.

"Fortnum's. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. How nice of you to ask."

Dennis smiled and hailed a taxi. He held the door open for the two girls. "Fortnum's," he told the driver as he got in. He turned to the girls. "How was your first day?" he asked Jessie.

She filled him in on her day, excluding what happened at the flat. She stopped as they pulled up in front of the store. She followed the others to the restaurant and saw people waiting in line. "I hope we'll get a table."

"Don't worry, I know the head waiter." Mags walked up to the maitre d' and began to talk animatedly, pointing at Jessie and Dennis. The man smiled and Mags waved to them. "It's all arranged," she said as they came up beside her. "My favorite table is free, and, since I'm something of a preferred customer. . ."

The maitre d' held Jessie's chair out for her while Dennis did the same for Mags. "Enjoy your meal, your Grace," he said before he left.

Jessie turned on Mags. "You told him! You know it's not official yet!"

"I'm sorry, Jessie. I couldn't help it. It just slipped out."

********************************************************

John Dolittle made the introductions. "This is Edward Simpson, our opal expert. This is his Grace, the duke of Edinburgh and his son."

Edward shook their hands. "It's a great honor to meet you, your Grace. I followed your early career with professional interest," he said, referring to Steven's days as a jewel thief. "You kept us all on our toes."

"I'm glad I kept you busy."

"Where are the opals you called about?" asked John.

Steven bent under his desk and pulled out the case. "Here they are, all present and accounted for."

"Don't you believe in safes?"

Steven looked at his friend. "Safes can be broken into."

"You should know."

Steven opened the case and Simpson looked inside. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." He picked one out and examined it. "How did you come by them?"

"That's Jamie's story."

Jamie told them of his flat being broken into and his realization that the case he had been carrying wasn't his. "I brought it here and let Dad open it this morning. He figures that I was the perfect courier because my bags wouldn't be checked at Customs."

"You two certainly are magnets for trouble," remarked John. "Why didn't you call about the break-in?"

"Nothing was taken so I didn't think I needed to."

"Don't harp on it, John," Steven told him. "At least now we've got a chance to catch them." He looked at Simpson. "Your opinion?"

Simpson removed his eyepiece. "Excellent workmanship. Definitely Australian quality. We had a report that a shipment had been waylaid. It's an estimated worth of £2 million."

"Is there a way we could pull a switch? Exchange these for fakes?"

"It is possible," Simpson mused. "I'd have to take these back to the Yard to try and find a match."

"I don't see any problem. We'll need them as soon as possible for when they try again."

"I'm sure we can have them by early tomorrow morning. If not, we'll call."

Steven stood. "I appreciate your coming over on such short notice, Mr. Simpson."

"It was worth it, your Grace. It was a pleasure meeting the both of you."

"See you Friday, then, John?" Steven asked.

"7:00." He stopped at the door and looked back. "I almost forgot, good luck in the race, Jamie." He smiled and the two men left.

Jamie looked at his father. "How did he know?"

"A lot of people heard about the grudge match and have correctly assumed that you are going to take part."

"Wonderful." He collapsed onto the sofa.

"The price of fame, m'boy."

********************************************************

Outside on Duke Street after lunch, Dennis looked at his watch. "I didn't realize it was this late. I'm sorry, ladies, but I have to go."

"Oh, really?" asked Mags.

"Tryouts for a new play my agent told me about, Hopefully, something will come of it."

"If not this part, at least your name will be out and circulating," said Jessie.

"Thanks. Um, is it all right if I call you sometime?"

"Sure." She was a bit surprised. "Let me write down the number for you."

"Picadilly -0131," quoted Mags. Jessie looked at her. "I used to call Jamie a lot," she explained.

Dennis laughed. "Thanks for the number. I'll see you soon." He waved good-bye and walked towards the Underground.

The girls watched him disappear then Mags let out a sigh. "He is absolutely gorgeous! You certainly are the lucky one."

"He's just a friend, Mags. I hardly know him." Jessie was a little annoyed at Mags for trying to push the association any further than friendship. "Why don't you try for him?"

"And leave Jamie to the piranhas? You must be joking. No, Jessie, Dennis Howell, actor, is all yours. You never know, he might be the next Olivier!"

Jessie couldn't help but smile. "Now where?"

"I was thinking Carnaby Street. You aren't bored or tired, are you?"

"If I were, would I ask where we were going?"

"Guess not." She hailed a taxi. "Now we can spruce up your wardrobe," she said as they clambered inside.

"Have you ever thought of being a fashion consultant?"

Mags laughed. "I definitely have to introduce you to Rebecca Adamson. She's always said the same thing." She leaned over. "How well do you know Jamie?"

"Mags! I've only met him once before two years ago."

"So?"

"So, I really can't say. Besides, my opinion would be a bit biased anyway."

"Did he ask you to stay with him, or did your parents think of it?"

"Oh, it was his idea, but don't you go getting any ideas. It's purely out of friendship."

"Of course it is. Whatever you say."

"Don't smirk like that. It's perfectly true."

"It's not just me that will think these things. How will you handle it, say, the newspapers found out?"

"They wouldn't know what they were talking about."

"Once they get a hold of something, they won't let go. It could be embarrassing."

"I've nothing to be embarrassed about. He's my cousin."

"Only by adoption."

"Can we drop the subject now?" Jessie asked as the cab came to a halt.

"Sure. Just don't come to me when the inevitable happens."

"You don't have to worry."

***********************************************************

Steven sat down opposite his son. "I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday, how was Greenwich?"

"It was fine. On the first day Jessie took me down to the Indian Harbor Yacht Club. We met a friend of hers there who invited us to a polo match."

"You went, of course."

"Of course." Jamie smiled. "The ironic thing was they were playing the Guards."

"Interesting coincidence."

"I knew they were touring the States, but I didn't know they'd be in town the same time as me. They asked me to play and it was impossible to turn them down."

"How did you do?"

"Scored a couple of goals. We won."

"How were Sheila and Dave?"

"They were great. It didn't take much to convince them to let Jessie come for the summer."

"And Cambridge?"

"That was the weird thing. She said they wouldn't be able to afford it. It was like she had totally forgotten she's an heiress."

"You have to remember that she never knew her father and grew up just a regular kid. Sarah and I, on the other hand--mainly me--had vague memories of what our life used to be like. It was easier for us to accept."

She said that if Jessie wants the title and decides to live over here, that she'll accept it and won't hold her back."

"That's fantastic!" The telephone rang. "Hello. Oh, hi. Yeah, he's out with Alison. How was your trip?" He mouthed "Sarah" to Jamie as he listened. "Jamie's back. We were just discussing his. Tea? I guess so. What time is it now?" He looked at his watch. "2:30. You want us there at 5:00? I think that's possible. Okay, see you then." He hung up the receiver. "If you couldn't guess, Sarah wants us over for tea at 5:00."

"How are we going to get a hold of Jessie? She's still out with Mags."

"Where should they go?"

"Knowing Mags, all the trendy shops. Sloane Square, Carnaby Street. . ."

"Okay. You go see if you can track her down and give her enough time to dress for tea."

"Sure thing. Wait a minute. What about the opals?"

"Damn. Forgot about that. I'll think of something. You go find Jessie."

Jamie saluted and ran out the door, shouting "Hello" to Alison and Henry on their way in.

"Where was Jamie off to in such a rush?" asked Alison after she greeted her husband.

"To find Jessie. Sarah's home and asked us to tea. I figured that he had the best chance of finding her, knowing where Mags is likely to take her."

Henry danced around Macduff, Steven's Scottish terrier. "Mommy's home! Mommy's home!" he chanted.

"Why don't you get all your things together then get ready for a bath," Alison told him.

"A bath? But it's the middle of the day."

"You don't want your mother to think we let you run wild, do you?" Steven questioned.

"Why not?"

"She might not let you visit again."

"In that case. . ." He ran upstairs.

"You certainly have him trained," remarked Alison with a smile.

"Blackmail is a wonderful tool in the discipline of children." He walked to the living room and she followed. "So, what do you think of Jessie?"

"She's a very sweet girl, very basic and natural. It seems quite funny that Mags has taken to her so."

"I think she's taking advantage of the fact that she'll be seeing Jamie more often."

"Steven!"

"It could be. You know how much she likes him."

"But to say she's using Jessie."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just a golden opportunity she can't pass up."

They heard the phone ring in the distance and a moment later Dawson was at the door. "A Mr. Simpson is on the line, sir."

"Great, I was just about to call him." He picked up the extension. "Stuart. They'll be ready at 4:30? Okay. I have an appointment at the Palace at 5:00 so I'll stop by and get them on the way. Thanks."

"What was that all about?"

"Opals. A little something Jamie unknowingly brought back with him. The thieves already tried once to get them so we've arranged a switch in case they try again."

"Do you think they will?"

"If you had £2 million in opals, would you let someone else have them?"

********************************************************

Jamie made his way to Carnaby Street and parked his car at the north end. He then walked among the crowds checking each and every shop. Halfway down the road he saw a patch of red hair in the crowd in front of him. He headed towards it and called out. the red stopped for a few moments then turned into a boutique. Jamie reached the shop in triumph which turned to confusion as he saw only the sales girl. "Did a brunette and redhead just come in here?"

"Jamie, is that you?" Jessie's voice called from one of the dressing rooms.

"Yeah. We've had an invitation to tea and Dad asked me to come find you."

Jessie stepped out wearing a pale yellow mini-dress with green trim. "How long have you been looking?"

"Not long." He kept staring at her.

"What do you think?"

"It's great. You've got taste."

"Mags helped me pick it out. How are you coming, Mags?"

Mags opened her curtain and Jamie saw that she had on an emerald dress. "I'm not sure."

"I think it looks fine. Green is the right color for redheads."

Mags turned to Jamie for his opinion. "It's fine." He turned back to Jessie. "You'd better hurry. We've got to get going."

"Okay." Both girls went into their respective rooms and drew the curtains. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Oh, the Palace," he said as he fingered the dresses near the booths.

"The Palace! What will I wear?"

Jamie looked at the pile of boxes on the floor. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

She shoved some of the boxes out with her foot. "Do you mind helping me carry some of these to your car?"

"I hope they'll fit."

"It's not that bad."

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

"I'll be right there."

Jamie picked up some of the packages and walked to the front door. He felt silly holding all those boxes, but not as silly as he would be carrying them down the street.

******************************************************

At 4:30 they were all seated in the grey Bentley driving out of the square. Steven detoured to Scotland Yard to pick up the opals. Neither Dolittle nor Simpson were there, but the office on duty had been informed of the pick-up. Steven locked the case in the boot of the car and then resumed the trip to the Palace.

Jessie was amazed that she was actually driving through the Palace gates. Jamie smiled at her wide eyes. They were greeted by a footman who opened the doors and escorted them to the entrance where the butler then took over. "A pleasure to see you again, sir," he said as he led them through the halls. "Her Majesty is waiting for you in the __________ Room."

Henry ran ahead of them and found his mother. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did," Queen Anne said as she hugged her son.

"Did you miss me?" his father, Prince John asked, kneeling.

"Oh, yes!" Henry ran over and gave his father a bear hug.

"What a lovely family photo," remarked Steven from the doorway. "I wonder what the Mail would give for this?"

"Hello, Steven, Alison, Jamie. Thank you for keeping an eye on Harry for me." She stopped. "You have to be Jessie." She hugged her. "You certainly do look like Sheila." She smiled. "Here I go, putting you on the spot. Let me introduce my husband. John, this is Jessica Oakes, my cousin."

"Call me 'Fitz'," he said. "Everybody does."

"And you must call me 'Sarah'. You are family, after all." She sat and everyone followed suit. "Harry, will you ring for tea, please?"

Jessie was still in shock. Here she was having tea with the Royal Family--and she was part of it! She listened with one ear to the conversation. Henry had let it slip that Jamie's apartment had been ransacked and that they thought it might happen again.

"There's nothing to worry about," Steven was saying. "I've brought Dolittle in on it."

"I certainly hope so. Though I don't know what good it'll do."

"Sarah," exclaimed Fitz, "you know perfectly well that John Dolittle is an excellent detective."

"That's not what I meant. With Steven around, he doesn't have much of a chance."

Alison laughed. "John has the edge, I think. Steven is out of practice and a little rusty."

"Okay, laugh at my expense," Steven said with a grin. "Just remember when the name of the Eagle filled evil men's souls with fear."

"You've been reading your own biographies, haven't you?" asked Sarah.

"I think it sounds like good movie material," remarked Jessie.

Alison looked at her husband. "Do you want to tell them?"

'Tell us what?" questioned Henry.

"Alison and I received a letter the other day from Pinewood Studios. They want to buy to movie rights to my life story."

"That's fab!" cried Jamie and Jess.

"What did you tell them?" asked Sarah.

"I haven't said anything yet. Alison and I both agree that it's a good idea, but we wanted to run it by you first."

"Steven, you don't need my approval. You're older than I am and can male your own decisions."

"You've finally admitted it."

"You needed a steadying influence and now you've got Alison. All I ask is a private viewing once it's done."

"Deal." Steven shook her hand.

****************************************************

Two days later, on Friday, Jamie said good-bye to Jessie and drove up to Cambridge. "I'll see you at the finish line in Henley. It should be over at about midday."

"Okay." She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."

She was waiting in the living room the following day when Mags and her family arrived to take her down to Henley. Her parents were very kind and her brother Brandon wasn't as bad as he could have been because she had been properly warned. It was no wonder Mags nicknamed him Brat.

Jessie was welcomed warmly into the Stewards' Enclosure. Men were dressed in striped blazers with cravats and boaters and the women wore elegant gowns similar to hers. She asked the Weston-Smythes not to tell anyone of her relations for the obvious reasons. With her American accent, she was able to ask questions and not be thought a dunce. "Is the Oxford-Cambridge race always held here?"

"Originally it was, but since they've lengthened the course, they've moved it to another location."

"Why are they having it here today?"

"To coincide with the Regatta, for one thing, and, because it's shorter, there's more of a challenge."

"Ah."

Mags came over. "They've started the finals for the Princess Elizabeth Cup. They've timed it so it'll be over by the time the race is ready to start."

Even thought she really didn't care about that particular race, Jessie made her way to the finish line so she would have a perfect view to see Jamie cross the line. While crossing the Enclosure, she thought she heard her name called--in a definite American accent. She turned to see Cliff Mead coming her way. "Oh, my God," she murmured.

"What is it?" Mags turned when she realized Jessie had stopped.

Jessie didn't have time to answer as Cliff came up. "Jessie, you look absolutely fabulous! I almost didn't recognize you."

"Cliff, I thought you weren't coming until later," she stammered. Mags nudged her discreetly. "Um, Cliff Mead, I'd like you to meet Lady Margaret Weston-Smythe."

Cliff tipped his hat. "Charmed, I'm sure."

The crowd cheered as they spotted the first crew upriver. "Who's ahead?" called Mags.

"Cambridge," came the answer from a disappointed Oxford supporter.

They rushed to the bridge rail. Jessie could see Jamie in the stern of the boat, keeping the rowing on an even tempo. Mags, in turn, shouted encouragement from the rail with the rest of the crowd. Jessie just watched, absorbing everything.

Cambridge won by at least two lengths. Jamie and his crewmates then rowed to the nearest dock and climbed out to be greeted by an enthusiastic crowd. He spotted Jessie and Mags trying to get through and waved to them. The people, noticing this, opened a path for them.

"You were fabulous!" Jessie told him. "I've never had so much fun at a race before."

A man with the greyest eyes Jessie had ever seen came up and clapped Jamie on the back. "Splendid race. They can't argue with that."

Jamie introduced him as Tristan Forbes, a friend of Steven's. "I didn't think you'd make it in time, Tris."

"I left as soon as you went to set up. By the way, your change of clothes is in the boot. The car is parked in a reserved spot by the Enclosure."

"Great. I'd better go change, then. Save me a glass of champagne, will you?"

Jessie turned to Tristan. "How do you know my cousin?"

"Six years ago, in 1959, when he had amnesia, I was the constable assigned to keep an eye on him."

"Why you?"

"I had read for psychology and the needed someone who knew how to handle an amnesia case. Granted, mine were only textbook cases, but I had the best qualifications. I helped him out on a few cases and know I'm studying for my doctorate."

"I knew I recognized your name, I just couldn't place it."

Jamie strolled up to the Enclosure with the rest of his crew. "See you inside. I have to get a few things." He spotted the Aston-Martin.

As he was taking his clothes out of the boot, a voice said, "Hello, your lordship. It was a wonderful race."

"Thank you," he replied, turning around. A familiar man was smiling at him, his hand in his pocket.

"Yes, it is what you think. You have something we want, m'lord, something in a black case."

Jamie wracked his brain to remember where he had seen the man. "You're from the ship, aren't you? The one who talked to me in the newsstand." The man nodded. "I knew the case wasn't mine," Jamie said, lifting it out. "I kept meaning to take it to the line's offices, but I never got any further than that."

The man took the case in his left hand and whistled. A car pulled up and the man slowly backed over to it, his gun aimed at Jamie. "Don't follow, m'lord. It can only lead to trouble."

Jamie stood still and watched the car head for the exit only to be blocked by the guards Dolittle had set up. He smiled and took his clothes inside to change.

Inside he saw Jessie between Cliff Mead and the newly-arrived Dennis Howell. Both were vying for her attention and he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. He could just imagine the attention she would get once the public found out who she really was. He put that behind him and joined the others in a glass of champagne.

The Eagle Chronicles 33: Jess and Jamie (1/2)

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 20:39:17 GMT

Title: Jess and Jamie
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 13,024
Summary Steven's adopted son and his cousin become involved in a bit of intrigue.
Notes: Steven takes a backseat here as the next generation gets most of the action. The setting in the first part is my hometown so street names and places are real. The title is a bit lame, sorry about that.

33. (Jess & Jamie)

Jamie knocked on his cousins' front door. He hoped they were home, considering he had arrived unannounced. He checked his appearance and waited. The door was opened by an older woman in her early forties. She had brown hair and hazel eyes. "Jamie, what a surprise! How nice to see you. Come in."

"Thanks, Sheila." He carried in his two suitcases. "I hope you don't mind my spur-of-the-moment visit. Where's Jess?"

"She's shopping on The Avenue. She shouldn't be too long. Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"A Coke would be nice." Jamie looked around. "You've done a lot in two years. Where are all the boarders?"

"There isn't much call for them now--boarding houses, I mean. If someone comes looking for a room, though, they'll get it. But enough of that. How is everything in London?" she asked as they moved to the front porch.

"Well, Dad and Alison have been busy attending fund raisers and the like. Aunt Sarah, Fitz, and Harry are all well. Andrew did well his first year at Cambridge and plans to take a walking tour of the Highlands during the hols."

"Jamie, is that you?" A girl in her late 'teens stood at the front gate. She was wearing kakhi slacks and a light cotton blouse. She ran to the porch, her brown hair flying behind her. "I can't believe it!" She hugged him. "What are you doing in Greenwich?"

"I had some free time and decided to visit. I also thought I might be able to persuade you to come to England with me."

Sheila was surprised. "How kind of you to offer, Jamie, but what about college?"

"Cambridge is a decent university, so I've heard," he said with a grin.

"Cambridge?" Jessica's eyes glowed.

"We can't afford Cambridge."

"Sheila, you are heir to the title of York; you can definitely afford it."

"I'll have to think about it," Jess said. "It's a big decision."

"That's why I prepared for a vacation," Jamie laughed.

"Why don't you take Jamie to the harbor?"

"Mom," Jess groaned.

"It's only an idea for a beautiful afternoon."

"Okay. Is that okay with you, Jamie? I don't want you to feel forced, or anything."

"I don't mind. As a matter of fact, I think I'd enjoy it very much."

"Would you like to walk or ride?"

"I've been sitting down for what seems like forever so a walk would be perfect."

They headed down Milbank Avenue towards Indian Harbor. They were silent for the first few blocks until Jess spoke. "So, what have you been doing the past two years?"

"Aside from Cambridge?" She nodded. "Not much, really. I've played amateur sports, but don't think that I'm one of the idle rich. I've held a job or two as well."

"What kind of sports?"

"Oh, cricket, polo."

"How come you aren't this summer?"

"This summer is special."

"Why?"

Jamie stopped and looked at her. "I'm joining the Navy in September."

"The Navy?"

"It's something of an unwritten rule that members of the royal family have to do military service. I chose the Navy."

"Does Steven know?"

"Of course. I told him first."

They walked under the railroad bridge on Steamboat Road. "Did you mean what you said back at the house, the reason for coming here?"

"Yeah, every word. You should be the one getting all the benefits, not me. You're the one with the Stuart blood."

"But I haven't been raised to it. I wouldn't know what to expect."

"That didn't stop Dad and Aunt Sarah. All I ask is that you visit for the summer and see what you think. Nothing more."

Jessie thought for a moment. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

They were nearing the end of the road. Ahead on the right was a large, white stucco building with a green tile roof. "What's that?"

"The Indian Harbor Yacht Club."

"Doesn't look very imposing."

"It looks better from the back. I'll show you from the public pier." They kept walking.

A car horn blared. "Jessica! Jessica Oakes!" Jess and Jamie turned around and saw a young man in a Mustang convertible waving at them. "Jess, didn't you hear me?"

Jessie walked back to the parking lot entrance. "I'm sorry, Cliff, I didn't. I was showing my cousin the harbor."

"Why don't you show him from the club? The view's much better."

"I don't know," Jess hesitated.

"I'd love to," said Jamie.

"Wonderful. Just wait at the front door while I park the car. Won't be a minute." He turned his car around and went into the parking lot.

"Why did you accept?" Jessie whispered harshly.

"I was invited to a yacht club. Why were you going to turn it down?"

"I always feel uncomfortable around this type of people. I don't know how to act in front of them."

"Have you ever thought that maybe they don't know how to act in front of you? Just be yourself and let them do the worrying."

Cliff met them at the front door and Jessie introduced them. "Cliff, this is my cousin Jamie, who's come for a little visit."

"Cliff?" asked Jamie.

"Short for Radcliffe. Pleased to meet you." He looked at Jess. "You look thirsty. How about a Coke?"

"Sure."

"What about you, Jamie?"

"A drink would certainly hit the spot."

Cliff led them into the club directly to the bar. The inside definitely fulfilled the ideas one had of a club: plush carpets on the floor, a banquet and ballroom, bar, and porches overlooking the harbor. "Hello, Mr. Mead," said the bartender. "What can I get you?"

"A Coke for the lady, a beer for myself, and . . ."

"I'll take a Coke, too."

Drinks in hand, they stepped onto the porch. The harbor was a beautiful sight with all the yachts and sailboats moored in safety. Three islands were in direct view about a mile or so out. "What are those islands?" asked Jamie.

"That's Island Beach on the left, Great Captain's Island in the middle, then Little Captain's Island. There are ferries that go back and forth," answered Jess. "Those houses over there," she said pointing to the slopes that bordered the harbor to the right, "are in Belle Haven. Quite a few celebrities live there."

"I would assume that waterfront property is the most sought-after."

"I'm not so sure," said Cliff. "You don't have as much privacy as you would backcountry."

"Backcountry?" Jamie was intrigued.

"That's where most of the horse people live," said Jess. "Large mansions on large tracts of land hidden by large trees and large fences."

"That's where the country clubs are, as well as the polo club," added Cliff.

"I didn't know Greenwich had a polo club."

"Oh, yes. It's pretty good, too. As a matter of fact, a team from England is playing there tomorrow. Why don't you come and watch?"

"Playing a British team, I'm sure there'd be quite a large crowd. How will we get in?"

"Guest list. Once I get home, I'll call and leave your names. Should I put your parents' names down as well?"

"Couldn't hurt," said Jamie. "If they decide to come, there won't be any trouble. What time does it start?"

"1:00." Cliff drained his glass. "Can I give you a lift home?"

Jamie was ready to say "yes", but knew the decision was Jessie's. She did not answer immediately, but debated in her mind. Jamie wasn't exactly sure of what she was thinking, but guessed that it had to do with keeping Cliff from seeing where she lived. She surprised him with her answer. "I'd like that very much, Cliff. Thanks."

"Great." He put his mug down on the table and the others followed his lead. They went out to his car. Because it was a sportscar, Jamie volunteered to sit in back. Cliff tried to start a conversation. "So, how long do you plan to stay, Jamie?"

"It's up to Jess. She's coming back with me."

"That's great. I was planning to go over sometime next month. Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe," agreed Jess. "The house is on the next block," she told Cliff. "The one on the corner with the stone wall."

Cliff dropped them off on front of the house. "Remember, 1:00 tomorrow. I'll see you then."

"Thanks, Cliff," said Jess with a smile. Cliff grinned and drove off.

Jamie watched her. "You like him, don't you?"

Jessie tried to hide a smile. "He's very nice," she said, walking up the front steps. "What's not to like?"

"Nothing. Don't be so defensive. I was only asking."

They went inside and were greeted by Jessie's father, Dave. "It's good to see you again, Jamie."

"It's good to be here. I needed a break."

"How long will you be staying?"

"A week or so. Not much longer."

"Wonderful." Dave sat down.

"Where did you go?" asked Sheila.

"Over to the harbor. We saw Cliff Mead who invited us inside for a drink." Jessie poured herself a glass of water. "He also invited us--all of us--to the polo match tomorrow."

"You two should definitely go."

"But what about you, Mom? Why don't you come?"

"You should join us, Sheila. Polo is a great sport to watch," put in Jamie.

"It would be a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon," said Dave.

"No. I always feel uncomfortable around that type."

"Maybe it's time you should make them feel uncomfortable around you," said Jessie, using the same argument Jamie had used on her. "At least think about it."

That night Jamie had a hard time sleeping, so he went down to the porch. The air was cool and comfortable. As he leaned on the rail, he heard a voice. "So you couldn't sleep either."

Jamie turned and saw Sheila wrapped in a bathrobe, sitting in one of the chairs. "No, I couldn't. Don't know why. What about you?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"It's this polo match. Jamie, I don't know what to do. I'd love to go, but I don't know a thing about the game--or horses."

"Then it's a good time to learn, isn't it? Why should you worry?"

"I just don't fit in with that crowd. I don't know how to act."

"Now I know where Jess gets it from. You're better off than these people, you just have to admit that fact. If you act naturally and be yourself, they can't deny you that. If they do, I don't know why you want to be like them." Jamie spoke somewhat from experience. He had been adopted by Sheila's cousin, the duke of Edinburgh, and had to prove that money hadn't spoiled him.

Sheila looked at the twenty-year-old and smiled. "You know, you're absolutely right."

"So you'll go?"

"Yes, I will." She stood. "Thanks for the talk. I think I can sleep now."

"Great. I think I'll stay here a little longer."

"Good-night, Jamie."

"Good-night, Sheila."

***************************************************************

Sunday, after going to church, all four drove backcountry to the polo club. They were an hour early, but there was already sizable crowd. Jamie and Dave carried their folding chairs to a spot that Sheila had found. Jessie carried the picnic basket. Jamie could not sit still, being in such proximity to a game he loved but wasn't playing. He decided to go to the stable and asked Jessie if she wanted to join him. They couldn't get into the stables, but stood at the fence and watched as the ponies were prepared. One in particular caught Jamie's eye. "That looks like ______, the pony I rode."

"How can you tell?"

"After riding a horse for two years, you know." He whistled and the pony turned. Jamie whistled again and the pony tried to break away from the handler.

A player came to see what was the matter. "I don't know, sir," said the groom. "He heard a whistle and started."

The rider looked at the people lining the fence. "Jamie! What are you doing here?" He strode over and gave him a handshake.

"Visiting relatives. Pete Frazier, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Jessica Oakes. She and her family live here in Greenwich."

"Pleased to meet you. Come, see the rest of the team. We were wondering about your reasons for not playing this year." He looked at Jess. "Now I know why."

They climbed over the fence and followed Pete into the stables. Jamie had to stop and soothe _______ who was still nervous. The rest of the team was happy to see him and tried to convince him to play a few chukkas. Their main argument was that he was still a member of the club and had to follow the majority. Jamie finally gave in. "Can you make your way back?" he asked Jess.

"Yeah, don't worry. Have fun."

Jamie went to change. Pete watched him go. "He's one of the best players in England. Quite a break for us."

"You don't sound too confident about your earlier chances," remarked Jess with a smile before she walked away.

Ten minutes later, the match was ready to start. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this match between our Greenwich team and England's Guards Polo Club." The announcer paused for applause. "I have just been notified of a change by the Guards' team. Lawrence, #5, has been replaced by Stuart, #7."

Jessie didn't know much about the rules of polo, but she knew enough when a goal had been scored, when someone had played well, or that someone had been fouled. Jamie scored seven goals in three chukkas before he decided to stop. "I only game here to watch!" Pete talked him into hanging about, possibly playing the final chukka.

As play resumed, Jessie and Jamie walked to the concession stand and bought a drink--or tried to. The man refused to let him pay. "All the players get free drinks, your lordship." He handed the two drinks over. "It's quite an honor watching the best in the game."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't say I was the best in the game."

"You're too modest, m'lord, for a man who has been declared the best amateur player three years in a row."

"Thanks again," Jamie said as they left.

"I could have sworn you blushed back there," said Jess with a smile. "I didn't know you were so respected as a player. People must be proud to lose against you."

"I'm a team player, Jess. People lose against the Guards, not me." They stopped and watched the game. "See how well they're doing without me."

"The score's hardly changed at all."

"They haven't lost the lead."

"The man at the bar was right; you are too modest."

Jamie laughed. "Maybe I am, but I take credit where credit is due."

Jamie didn't play again, but he wasn't upset. The Guards won and invited him and Jessie to their hotel that night. "We plan to have a bit of fun. We ended our tour with a record of 10-3."

"That's fantastic! I'd love to join you, but I don't know when I'll be able to get there."

Sheila and Dave came over to the stables. "What a wonderful match! I don't think I've ever enjoyed watching sports so much," said Sheila.

"Playing must take quite a bit of concentration," put in Dave. "I have a hard enough time staying on a horse, let alone attempting to play polo."

"These are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Oakes. Mom, Dad, this is Peter Frazier, the captain of the team," said Jessie, making the introductions.

"Pleasure to meet the both of you," said Peter, shaking hands. "I was just inviting Jamie and your daughter to a small party we're having tonight at our hotel. I hope that won't disrupt any plans."

"Of course not. We planned a nice dinner and that was it," Sheila told him.

"Wonderful." Pete turned to Jamie. "We're staying at the Pickwick Arms. Do you know the place?"

"At the top of Greenwich Avenue. We'll be there sometime tonight."

"Till tonight, then."

"Till tonight. Ta."

*******************************************************

That night over a dinner of roast chicken, potatoes, and salad, they talked about family. Sheila told them of a time when Steven, Jamie's adoptive father, had returned from London in disguise because he was wanted by the police and vengeful fiancé. "This man was so obsessed with putting Steven in jail, in failing that, he was ready to kill him."

"I remember when he came here for a vacation only to become involved in preventing the selling of government secrets. I was very proud then, having my famous cousin staying with us. I also like to say I rescued him from a burning building."

"How old were you?" asked Jamie.

"Eleven. Not bad, eh?"

"Not at all. I remember when he came back from that trip. I didn't know he was at the time because I was trying to solve my own mystery."

"He certainly gets around, doesn't he?" said Dave with a laugh. "Enough of your father, tell us about what you've been doing."

"Well, I've finished university this past spring with a degree in history."

"What kinds of history?"

"British, American, French, Russian, most kinds. I also had to learn the languages in order to read most of the research material. Of course, I didn't have my nose stuck in a book the whole time. I played quite a few sports: polo, cricket, rugby, and rowing. A friend even talked me into doing some acting. It was fun, but I don't think I could make a living from it."

"Quite a well-rounded character, Jamie. What does the future hold for you?"

Jessie looked at him, wondering if he was going to tell them about the Navy.

"For the rest of the summer I plan to take it easy, spend some time in the Highlands, play a little cricket, go to some parties, the usual. Alison's offered me a job at the publishing house if I want it, but I don't think so."

"What are you going to do then?" asked Sheila. "You're not going to be one of the idle rich, are you?"

"Oh, I'm going to be far from idle," said Jamie with a smile. "I'm joining the Navy."

"Jamie, that's wonderful! I bet Steven was very proud when he heard that!" Dave remarked.

Jessie decided to see if her parents would be proud of her decision. She took a deep breath. "Jamie's asked me to go to London with him and I've said yes."

Her parents said nothing for a few moments. "I had a feeling you would," said Sheila.

"You're not upset?"

"No. All I want to know is how long you plan to stay."

"At least the summer. If I decide to go to Cambridge, I'll let you know." Jessie looked at her father. "You understand why I have to go? When will I have another chance to go away like this? You'd take it if you were me."

Dave smiled. "I'm glad you're taking advantage of this opportunity. If I had had the chance at your age, I definitely would have." Jessie smiled.

"Where would you stay?" asked Sheila.

"Oh, I've already thought of that," put in Jamie. "She could stay with Dad and Alison. . ."

"Or?" prompted Dave.

"Or share a flat with me." Jamie was unsure as to how this would be received. He didn't think Jessie would want to spend most of her time under his father's watchful eye. He hoped that Dave and Sheila wouldn't think he had ulterior motives. "Two bedrooms, of course," he added for good measure.

"How very kind of you, Jamie," said Dave. "The decision is up to her."

Jessie finished dinner and looked at her watch. "I'm going to get ready for the party. Do you need any help in the kitchen?"

"No, Jessie, you go ahead. You, too, Jamie," Sheila said as she began to clear the dishes.

"Before you do, when do you plan to leave?" asked Dave.

"Tuesday or Wednesday, I'm not sure." He followed Jessie upstairs.

She was waiting on the landing. "Did you mean that? About sharing an apartment with you?"

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd want to spend the whole time under Dad's watchful eye. Besides, I think it could be fun." Jessie looked questioningly at him. "C'mon, I'm your cousin!"

*************************************************

At the party, Jamie was glad to see friends he hadn't seen all year. They talked of sports, old college professors, and girlfriends. Jessie took everything in, asking questions when something confused her. "At least I'll know what's going on in the sports world over there," she said with a laugh.

"When are you leaving?" a youth asked her.

"Sometime within the week, I'm not exactly sure."

Jamie heard this and came over. "I was thinking either Tuesday or Wednesday."

"We're leaving tomorrow, an evening flight."

"We haven't decided yet how we're going." Jessie looked at him as if to say What do you mean?. "Either the Queen Anne or by plane."

"It must be tough living the way you do," said Pete sarcastically.

"We can take a liner?" Jessie had only dreamed of such luxury after seeing them in the movies.

"The decision is up to you. The Queen Anne leaves New York on Tuesday for Southampton. Should take about six days." He took a sip of his drink. "Of course, it means a new wardrobe for the formal occasions," he said with a sly smile.

Jessie smiled back. "I guess we'll have to go shopping tomorrow."

**********************************************************

Tuesday arrived and Jessie bid good-bye to her parents, promising to write. Her two trunks were packed into the limousine which then took them to New York Harbor and the Queen Anne.

"I'm just going to buy a paper, then we can board," Jamie told her.

In the stationer's, a man came up to him. "Aren't you Jamie Stuart?" he asked with a slight Welsh accent.

"Yes," replied Jamie, moving forward.

"I knew I couldn't be mistaken. I said to my associate--he's gone to get something to eat, I think-- 'George,' I said, 'Doesn't that lad look like Jamie Stuart?' He said 'Couldn't be, he's home playing polo'."

"I played some here, actually. I met up with the Guards in Connecticut."

"Oh, yes, I read about that." He pointed to his copy of The New York Times. "A surprise appearance."

"I'm sorry, Mr. . . ."

"Harper. Eric Harper."

"Mr. Harper, I have to hurry. I hope you don't mind. My cousin is waiting."

"I'm sorry, m'lord. It was an honor meeting you. I suppose I'll see you again onboard."

"I suppose so." Jamie paid for the paper and met Jessie outside.

"What kept you?"

"Some man started talking. A harmless chap, really. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

They walked up the gangplank and were greeted by a young officer in white. "I didn't know you would be sailing back with us, m'lord."

"I didn't either until recently. Evan, this is my cousin Jessica and you are to do all you can--within reason--to ensure she has a fun trip," Jamie said with a smile.

"Yes, m'lord." Evan saluted smartly. "It will be a privilege, milady." He checked his clipboard. "Your suite is available."

"Good. I won't get lost finding it. Thanks, Evan."

"Thank you, Evan," said Jessie with a smile before she followed Jamie.

They walked along the deck towards the stern of the ship. Jessie peeked through windows at the glamorous décor. She couldn't believe it. "This looks like a palace." Jamie just smiled. They walked up a wide staircase to a private deck. Jamie took her hand and led her through the door.

Her eyes were greeted by a luxurious suite decorated in soothing colors. The deep pile carpet was royal blue, a color used sparingly in the furniture's upholstery. There was a large sofa, a loveseat, three or four chairs, a desk, and even a bar. "What d'ya think?" asked Jamie. "It'll be yours for the next week."

"It's beautiful! I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and it'll all be gone."

"Let me show you your bedroom." He led her to the back of the suite and through a door on the right. "I hope you will find this satisfactory, Madam."

"It will do," she replied, playing along with him. The room had a window facing the deck, a wardrobe, bureau, vanity, chaise lounge, and a bed, of course. The color scheme from the sitting room was continued in here.

"In here is the bath, and my room beyond that," Jamie told her. "Why don't you freshen-up then we'll go for a walk."

The size of the ship amazed Jessie. It was like a floating city. Everyone smiled and nodded at Jamie and whispered among themselves about Jessie's identity. She liked the thought of providing mystery. They stopped at the bow to wait for the journey to begin.

After her last glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, Jamie took her on a tour of the Queen Anne. He showed her where to find the pool, the gym, the lounge, and the dining room. All of them in first-class. "If you ever lose your bearings, which is quite easy to do, just ask one of the stewards and they'll direct you. Everyone is quite nice here. I know you'll probably want to be by yourself at times, so you should know your way around."

"Right now, I think I'll go lie down. I don't know why, but I feel tired."

Jamie laughed. "Fine. While you're resting, I'll nose about to see if any interesting people are onboard and if there'll be any parties this trip."

************************************************************

Jamie tapped on Jessie's bedroom door. "Jess, you awake? It's time to get ready for dinner." He cautiously opened the door. Jessie was stretched out on the bed, breathing softly. He smiled as he tip- toed over to the bed. He gently shook it and whispered her name.

She opened her eyes slowly. "Hullo, Jamie." She yawned.

"Hullo. It's time to get ready for dinner. We'll be at the Captain's table tonight. Proper attire required."

"I have to wear a gown, eh?"

"Nothing flashy. Just something to make a good first impression. I'm debating about wearing a tux. You can use the shower first."

"If I have to wear a gown, you are wearing a tux." She stretched and walked to the wardrobe. "Maybe I'll wear the blue. What do you think?"

"The blue, definitely." He went to the connecting door. "Let me know when you're out of the shower." She nodded and he left the room. "This is going to be a fun trip," he said once he was in his room. "Moreso than the one over." He stretched out on the bed and contemplated sending a telegram to his father. If I do, should I mention Jessie? No, I'll surprise him. On the pad he had taken from the desk, he wrote: Dad, Coming home on the 29th, via Southampton. Will see you once in London. Jamie. He'd stop off at thee radio room on the way to the dining room.

He heard the water start in the bathroom. He hoped that Jessie would be able to take the sudden publicity in stride. The Press would be after her as well as people clamoring to be her "friends". Maybe if he showed her a few pointers or a few subtle hints. . . He just didn't want to treat her like a child. That's what she was trying to escape.

Two hours later they were walking along the deck. The sun was just starting to set. Jessie paused at the rail. "Do you mind if I watch the sunset? It'll be the first time I've had an unobstructed view."

"Sure. I'll just run this telegram to the radio room and meet you back here."

Jessie nodded, her eyes not leaving the horizon. The colors spread across the sky--orange, yellow, red, purple--and reflected on the water. "It's at times like this I wish I was a painter."

"Or a poet," remarked Jamie.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I just got back. Ready?" He held out his arm.

She nodded and wrapped hers around his. They strolled into the dining room and a white-clad waiter ushered them to the Captain's Table. All the men stood as they approached and the Captain welcomed them. "Welcome aboard, m'lord."

"This is my cousin Jessica. This is her first trip on an ocean liner."

"I hope you will enjoy yourself," said the captain.

"I plan to," Jess replied.

Jessie was seated next to a young couple from Boston who introduced themselves as Joseph and Ellen Kinney. Across from her sat a widower from Leeds, and, next to him, a fledgling actor who hoped to make it on the British stage. Over soup, Jessie learned about her fellow travelers. Mr. Kinney was being transferred to the London branch of his firm and they had to settle-in before things became "official". "My grandfather was born in Richmond, and I'm so glad we found a house in the general area," said Ellen.

"My grandfather was born in London and this is my first trip over."

"You grandfather?"

"Lord Charles Stuart, duke of York."

"Ah." This statement gained the attention of the widower from Leeds, Mr. Lyle, who happened to be a historian. "Such a tragic story. A very noble man, from what I understand." He began to tell the story of Charles Stuart. "He was told by his brother, King James, to take the children out of the country to the United States. The Windsor faction was preparing to make a move. They escaped on a liner and heard the news over the wireless. Charles changed their names and they settled down in Connecticut. A year later he returned to England to help the children to the throne. He was discovered and tried for treason. However, he never told a soul the location of the children."

Jessie was fascinated. She had never really heard the story. It had only been alluded to. Jamie, however, being a student of history, knew it by heart.

After the main course had been served, Jamie asked Mr. Lyle, "Why do you think my father was so readily accepted as king?"

"Guilt, mainly. Because of what your father had done and the name he had made for himself, they couldn't very well ignore the truth. Another possibility was that they feared the consequences of they didn't give up the throne. The public, surveys tell us, would have backed him instead of the Windsors."

"Where are the Windsors now?" asked Jessie.

"They have an estate in Norfolk and the two girls are raising their own families not too far away."

When dessert arrived, the conversation turned to lighter subjects such as sports, music, film, and the weather. Jessie tried to keep from yawning, but the excitement of the trip plus the sea air was making it impossible. She stood and excused herself. "I'm sorry, but I can't keep awake."

"I'm going to stay for a little longer. I hope you don't mind," said Jamie.

"No, I'll be fine. I'll just stroll back to the suite."

"Allow me to escort you back," said Dennis Howell, the actor.

"I don't wish to take you out of your way, Mr. Howell."

"It will be my pleasure, Miss Oakes."

After Dennis Howell said good-night and left her at the suite, Jessie smiled and kicked off her shoes. She twirled about the sitting room before heading to her bedroom . She then changed into ivory silk pajamas that Jamie had insisted she buy. They felt positively decadent next to her skin. Taking a small book from on top of her bureau, she curled up on the bed and began her journal.

* June 24, 1965--Today marks my first trip outside the States, on the Queen Anne, no less. I met a good-looking man at dinner tonight and I hope to see him often during the trip. I think he's from Canada; his accent is neither American nor English. I also heard stories about my grandfather and one of the first things I'd like to do is visit where he's buried. Enough for Night One.

* June 25--The weather was gorgeous today so I sat on the deck and took in the sun. Jamie did some skeet shooting (Well, he won't have to brush up on his marksmanship). The Kinneys invited us to lunch--they're a wonderful couple. I plan to visit them sometime. After dinner we did some dancing--Jamie and Dennis taking turns. I've never had such attention paid to me!

* June 26--Today I did some more sunning and swimming--I'm definitely building up a good tan. I brought a handful of mystery paperbacks and sat and read almost all day. There was a fun party in Economy tonight and Jamie and I sneaked down and had a fab time. The music was fantastic: a mix of American and British. Jamie certainly knows how to blend in! I had people asking me who he was!

* June 27--Day 4. Today Jamie received a telegram from his aunt, the Queen, asking him to pick up his cousin Henry at school when we arrive and bring him to London. She'll be in Scotland and unable to meet him. Jamie said we'll stop in Windsor since we'll be that close. Dennis Howell has been paying me a lot of attention and I don't know what to make of it. Is it an innocent shipboard romance? Does he really like me or is it that fact that I might have a title? I'll talk to Jamie tomorrow.

* June 28--Jamie said that I should treat Dennis like a good friend which will make him tell me his true feelings or turn him off completely. I only have one more day to find out. Mr. Lyle, the historian, recommended some books for me about my grandfather because, he said, he was usually overlooked. Tonight was a farewell party of sorts and it was fab. I had a hard time getting away from Dennis. Tomorrow being the last day, I plan to catch up on some things I haven't done yet.

*************************

The morning of July 29, Jessica woke and remembered it was the final day of the crossing. She wrapped her robe about her and walked out into the sitting room. Jamie's door was shut. "He must still be asleep," she murmured. She walked to the main doors and looked outside. It was still early and the sky was a pinkish-grey. Evan had said that the weather was going to be cooler and that there was a chance of rain.

She curled up on the couch and picked up one of her mystery novels. She became so engrossed that she didn't hear Jamie until he had said her name twice. His hair was rumpled and his eyes half open.

"Have you been up long?"

"An hour or so. I want to try and make the most out of my last day."

"Doesn't look like it's going to be a good day for outside projects."

"I know. I think I'll write a few letters and maybe visit the sauna."

"Has anything happened with Dennis?" Jamie sat down next to her.

"Well, he hasn't left me, nor has he proposed. I think he just wants to be friends."

"That's good. Just remember, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. Okay, how about we go get some breakfast?"

"You're on."

That afternoon Jessie was in the sitting room writing a school friend when Jamie came in. "We're nearing Ireland and I thought you'd like to see it. Do you have everything packed? The porters will be coming to collect the baggage."

"Everything's done. Let me just finish this letter." She signed it then slipped it into her purse.

Jamie held the door open for her and she stepped onto the deck. "We won't be that close so you'll have to look carefully. It's just a strip of land and you might not see it at all if the weather's bad."

"It'll still be exhilarating." She leaned on the rail. "I meant to ask you, how are we going to London?"

"Car. Aston-Martin. It's actually Dad's, but he won't use anything other than his Alvis."

"So you decided to use it yourself because a car like that can't go to waste."

"Of course." He pointed to the horizon. "Thar she be, the Isle of Saints and Scholars." There was a mass of land with a mist hovering about it.

"All it needs is a rainbow to complete the picture. God, it's so enchanting. Let's make a trip there, okay?"

"I'm sure we can squeeze it in somewhere."

"How much longer until we reach Southampton?"

"A couple of hours. We should be home in London by dinner tonight, if all goes smoothly." He looked down at the aft-deck. "There are the Kinneys. It looks as if they want to chat."

The couple actually wanted to play cards. Euchre was the game decided upon. Jamie invited them into the suite knowing that an announcement would be made when they were nearing the docks.

**************************************************************

The passengers lined the rails as the liner docked in Southampton. Jessie eagerly leaned forward. "It's not much of a first glance of England, but at least it's different from New York."

Jamie looked along the rail. "That's funny. It's that man who spoke to me before we left New York. The thing is, I haven't seen him at all this whole trip."

"Maybe he was seasick."

"Then why not fly? There's something not right about him."

"You worry too much. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for the whole thing." Jessie waved to the people on the quay.

"Guess you're right." He smiled and waved as well. "We'd better start to fight our way down to the plank or we'll never get off."

They made their way down to the disembarkation area and waited with the other smart passengers. Jessie stayed close to Jamie and followed him off the ship and imitated his every move. They were followed by a porter bringing their cases on a dolly. The Customs official greeted them with a smile. He stamped their passports and wished Jessie a happy stay in England.

Once their things were packed into the Aston-Martin's boot, Jamie tipped the porter and then held the passenger door open for Jessie. "What do you think so far?"

"I haven't seen enough to come to a conclusion yet."

"Well, you'll get a nice view of the country. It's about 90 kilometers or 60 miles to Eton. Let me know when you want to stop." The Aston-Martin pulled out of the car park and headed for the motorway.

**************************************************

Possible New Story

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 21:11:05 GMT

This could be a possible prologue if I get a good response from it. I might not start on it right away as I do need to pay attention to some original fic. Anyhow, I decided I wanted Donna to meet my original character Alan Kelly. I've had him meet previous incarnations of the Doctor here and his original series here.

Please enjoy!

Donna tried her best to pick the lock to the file cabinet but the damn thing wouldn't budge. She just knew there had to be something incriminating in there. Maybe not as incriminating as something found in a safe, but even if she knew where it was, there was no way she'd be able to open it. She heard footsteps coming down the hall in her direction so she hid underneath the spacious, old-fashioned wood desk.

She listened as the door opened and the person entered. She couldn't see anything and the carpet muffled any footsteps so she just guessed where they were by other sounds in the room. She smiled at the thought of doing something so Spooks. Eighteen months ago, she never would have done something so daring-or foolhardy as her mum would put it if she knew. No, before that time, before that Christmas, the only news she worried about was what she found in the gossip pages. But now she knew to look at the bigger picture, to question things that seemed too easy.

When she saw the black boots pass close to the desk, she pulled her knees closer to her chest. Please keep walking. Please keep walking. No such luck. They stopped and Donned pressed back against the side of the desk. At that moment alarms blared and she froze. She hadn't planned an escape route in case of alarms.

A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out from under the desk. "C'mon, we have to go now!"

Donna looked up into a pair of gorgeous green eyes. The rest of the face wasn't so bad either. Do not go that way, Donna! This is important!

"If you're done gawping, move!" He yanked her out the door and ran down the corridor.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. "I was fine where I was!"

"Oh, if you wanted to stay and be arrested-or more likely killed-you should have just said so!"

That tone made her want to give him a piece of her mind, but she knew now was not the time to let rip. He was, after all, saving her. From what, she wasn't exactly sure, but at least he was including her. She heard more shouts and running footsteps heading in their direction. More guards. The man tried to push her behind him for protection in a very heroic manner, but she saw no weapons and wondered how he planned to fight back.

He pulled her closer.

"Hands!" she whispered as loud as she dared.

"Just hold on."

"What for?" He closed his eyes, which made her even angrier. "What do you think...you're doing?" She looked around and realized they were outside, somewhere close to the Thames. "Wha'? How did you..."

"Trade secret." He mimed buttoning his lips.

"Did your trade secret help you get what you were after?" She tried not to sound snide, but it didn't quite work.

"No, because somebody set off the alarms."

"Excuse me for not being a thief like you."

"I am not a thief!" he defended.

"Well, you are dressed in black," Donna shot back.

"So are you," he retorted.

"Well, black is...slimming," she said weakly. She waited to see if he would insult her regarding her weight.

"Look, not to sound condescending at all, but you'd better get home. The guards'll be out searching soon."

"What about you?"

"Not a problem. I have a way out."

"Another trade secret?" she asked with a smile.

"Yep."

Knowing she wasn't going to get anything else out of Mystery Man, she turned and headed back home. "Wait," she said as she thought of something else. Turning, she saw him simply vanish. "Why doesn't it surprise me? Drop-dead gorgeous bloke and he disappears."

8:02

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 23:55:58 GMT

Title: 8:02
Series: Doctor Who/TOC Files
Characters: Ten, Martha, Jack, Simm!Master, Jones Family, Lucy Saxon, OCs
Word Count: 7831 (overall)
Rating: Gen
Spoilers: The Sound of Drums
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Only Alan Kelly and his friends are
from my brain.
Summary: A friend of the Doctor's gets dragged into the Master's machinations. Includes scenes and dialogue from The Sound of Drums.
Author's Notes: This is an "off=shoot" of an ongoing series in which an original
character, Alan Kelly, will meet all of the Doctor's incarnations (well, at least up to
Eleven). As he had alread met Ten, Martha, Jack and Delgado!Master, this seemed something of a gimme.

The TARDIS did not like this creature that had stolen her away from the Doctor, but she had to do what he wished. Thankfully, the Doctor had limited her movement, locking the coordinates. This man was familiar to her as he had tried to take her from the Doctor many times before, but this madness was overwhelming as it seemed to override all sense and logic.

They had spent a long time in the early 21st century, and he had used her to create a past for himself. As part of this false life, he had begun to see a human woman who seemed just
as lost as he. He had brought her inside and forced the TARDIS to go to Utopia to see what
the human race had become. The woman, Lucy her name was, had returned broken.

Now they were back and approached her console wearing black insulated gloves. No! She instinctively tried to shake him, make him fall, but he held on tightly.

"None of that," he scolded. "You are the main part of my plan so behave, or I will make it more painful than it needs to be."

With that, he reached into her inner workings and she cried out. Her Doctor was unable to come to her in time so she called for another to help her. Another with whom she could communicate. Another who had gotten the better of the Master.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"C'mon! This is supposed to be a celebration! Drink up, or have you forgotten how?" Ryan shouted to be heard.

Alan Kelly pasted on a smile for his inebriated brother's benefit. It had been awhile since he had been out drinking. His pain meds had been the cause of that. Today was the last day of his sick leave, but he still hadn't officially been placed on active duty, so no worries in case of a possible hangover. "Sorry, just lost in thought."

"Glad you found your way back." Shannon Flynn looked to the final member at the table. "It's your round, Eric."

"I thought I got the last one." He gathered the empties and took them to the bar.

Eric's voice seemed to sound far away and garbled, almost as if he were underwater. The rest of the pub seemed to disappear as Alan experienced some tunnel vision.

"Alan? Alan?" Shannon placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

Alan turned his head so he could see her face completely. "Just feel a little weird." His own voice sounded bizarre. "Getting the beginnings of a headache."

"You do look a bit white. I think we may have rushed this. We should get you back to your quarters."

"Shannon, don't be such a--"She glared at Ryan. "Well, he does look a bit peaky. C'mon." Between the two of them, they helped Alan stand.

Just the act of standing made Alan dizzy. "Guys, I don't think this is a regular headache. It's like someone's trying to contact me."

They headed for the door. "You can tell us once we get you back to your quarters. Eric, we've got to go."

"What? What's wrong?" Eric followed them outside. "Is it the beer?"

"No," Alan gasped. He doubled over and gripped his head.

The pain was excruciating. It wasn't all his pain, however. The one contacting him, it was...hers. Images flashed through his mind. Then it was gone. He straightened and blinked. "It was the TARDIS," he said between breaths. "She's in trouble."

"Why doesn't the Doctor help?" asked Ryan.

"Most likely because he can't," Eric answered.

"I have to go. I have to help. I'll contact you and let you know what's going on."

"Why can't we go with you?" asked Shannon.

"You'll have to cover for me." He separated himself from them.

"What? You're going now? All you have are the clothes on your back!"

"Ryan, I have to go while the connection is strong. Besides, it's the TARDIS. I can get whatever I need once I'm there."

He focused on the psychic link that would lead him to the TARDIS. He had teleported directly inside once before, but he wasn't going to do that this time. Somehow, she had been compromised so he placed himself a little ways off. His vision cleared and he found himself in a service tunnel of some sort with a number of pipes running along the ceiling. "OK, now where?" He peered around the corner and saw the TARDIS seemingly unguarded. He crept cautiously to the doors and was surprised to find it slightly ajar. He stood back as far as he could and pushed the door open. Nothing was fired at him. He entered the TARDIS and was shocked at what he saw. The ship that was normally bathed in a golden green glow was radiating an agonizing red. The panels underneath the console were open, and there were wires dangling that made Alan think that someone was in the middle of a DIY project. He tentatively reached a hand out to touch the console but hesitated, his hand just inches away, somehow knowing it would not be a good thing. "What have they done to you?" he whispered.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"How could I have ever been bested by a man so disorganized? He doesn't even have the decency to keep them close to the console room," the Master grumbled as he walked the corridor for the umpteenth time. He was almost done, and the Doctor was trying to stop him even though he was trillions of years away. "Damn the man!"

As he got closer to the console room, he heard a voice. If someone has come down here despite my orders, they will-- All thoughts of fitting punishment fled his mind when he
saw who it was: the man he hated almost as much as the Doctor. "Oh-ho, this is just too good. Col. Alan Kelly," he announced loudly.

The man turned, startled to be caught out. "Where's the Doctor?"

"How do you know I'm not him?"

"The TARDIS. She showed me bits of what happened, what you did to her. That's why I'm here. I guess I was too late to stop you...Master."

The Master grinned. "You are quick." He set his tools on the floor by the console.

"How did you survive the Time War," Kelly asked, putting the console between them. "The Doctor told me he was the only one left."

"A strategic withdrawal." He could see the colonel watching him warily. If I can get inside his head, I'm sure I could expand his talents without destroying him.

"You ran away! That is just priceless! The man who would be ruler of the universe turned tail and ran!"

"You do not mock me!" he ordered, barely controlling his temper. He stared at the officer, itching to wipe that cocky grin from his face. He then saw that Kelly was resting his hands on the console. The Master reached down and picked up one of the many exposed live wires, holding it out of Kelly's line-of-sight. "You weren't there," he argued. "You have no idea what it was like. The utter scale of it." Memories of the carnage he had witnessed flooded the Master's mind. There was only one other in existence that could understand, and he wasn't ready for that conversation, not yet.

He touched the wire to the console and watched in delight while Kelly spasmed as the current ran through his body. When he removed the wire, Kelly's body fell to the floor. The Master stood over him. "Now the fun begins."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Alan came to with a massive pounding in his head. There was also pain -- massive, gut-wrenching, migraine-inducing pain -- that wasn't his. For some reason he was connected to the
TARDIS. He tried to shut her out using some techniques the Doctor had taught him, but that only lessened the pain to a slightly more tolerable level.

He cracked open his eyes and saw the Master's grinning face. "What the hell did you do?"

"Now is that any way to thank me?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Thank you for this pounding in my head?"

"Ah, Colonel, you are missing the reason you have that pounding. Your telepathy only worked with, what, three or four other people? Now you have no limits."

Alan knew the Master wouldn't do this out of the kindness of his hearts. He had to want something and Alan knew it wouldn't be good. "And why would you do that?"

"You will stay in the TARDIS. When I need you, you will wear a dark suit of my choosing."

"What's to keep me from getting away once I'm outside?"

"As you can see, I have your machine. That bracelet you see in its place will send a charge of 10,000 volts through your body if you move more than ten feet away from its mate." The Master held up his own wrist.

"You want me to read the minds of your enemies. Isn't that a bit low, even for you?"

"I'm merely using all assets at my disposal."

"Oh, so I'm an asset now, am I? You don't need my help to become Prime Minister." The moment it passed his lips, Alan regretted it.

"So my little camouflage against the Doctor works. Since he doesn't try to stop me, that can only mean he returns after the election. Thank you, Colonel. I can now adjust my
timetable accordingly." He rose and headed for the door. "Now I'm off to see a man about a science project."

Alan allowed enough time to pass before heading to the console room. He didn't want to give the Master the satisfaction of seeing him test his boundaries. The pain in his mind increased as he got closer and he tried to build stronger mental walls.

He opened the door to the room and was nearly doubled over. He took a series of deep breaths to regain control over the pain. When he straightened, he saw what the Master had done. There was grating that surrounded the whole of the console. Even if he knew how to pilot it, there was no way to reach the controls. There was also a massive industrial pipe connected to the base of the console through the grating. Whether it was feeding or draining energy, he couldn't tell. There was a gauge set above it and Alan knew the Master wanted it to reach the red.

It seems my best bet is to wait it out. Maybe contain the madness until the Doctor gets here or I can enlist some help.

He stroked one of the coral-like buttresses as he returned to the inner rooms of the TARDIS.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Master leaned back in the chrome and leather chair. It all seemed rather pretentious for a man of Lazarus' age and background. He had expected oak panelled walls and brown leather chairs. Perhaps he went the opposite of the expected on purpose. The wall of windows looked out onto London's skyline, giving the impression of having the city at your feet.

"Everything seems to be moving on schedule, Mr. Saxon," said the older woman sitting at the desk. "All preliminary tests show we're ready to begin the final phase." She slid the folder across the desk towards him.

The Master waved it away. "My dear Lady Thaw, I trust your money management skills to keep things on track." And your vanity, he added to himself. That is what made him chose
Lady Thaw as his representative at LazLabs. It wouldn't do for him to be openly funding such an experiment. The fact that Lady Thaw believed herself to be in love with Lazarus and that her feelings were reciprocated made everything so easy.

"And what is the projected timetable for the grand unveiling?"

Lady Thaw consulted the folder. "Prof. Lazarus believes it should be ready in two months, possibly right before Election Day."

"Excellent." He stood. "Call me when you have a firm date or if anything else arises that I should be made aware of. On my private line," he reminded. "We must be discreet."

"Of course, Mr. Saxon. No one besides Prof. Lazarus and myself know of your involvement."

"Good day, Lady Thaw." He slipped out of the office and down the backstairs to his waiting car.

"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.

"Back to the Ministry, I think. I have a few more things to attend to today."

"Very good, sir."

As the car pulled away, the Master leaned back into the soft leather seat. It amused him how some humans clung to their pitiful little lives; doing anything they could to prolong it. Lazarus and Thaw were the ideal pawns in this particular scheme. They both wanted to restore their youth and the adulation such an accomplishment would bring.

His reason for funding this project was twofold. He would have access to the genetic manipulator for his own purposes. Also, if the Doctor were to be in town the day of the unveiling, there was no way he would pass up a chance to witness such a momentous occasion.

That brought him back to Kelly. He'd enjoy having the man around. He had to have someone to talk to who understood. Lucy knew what was going on, but she couldn't fully grasp it all. He'd let the man stew for a few days to realize there was no escape from his prison. Though, as far as prisons went, the TARDIS wasn't so bad with its practically limitless resources.

He'd check on the new satellites for Archangel and make a few public appearances with Lucy
then find some reason to get back to the Valiant. Aside from checking on the TARDIS and Alan, he had to make sure that everything was running according to schedule. He sighed contentedly. He could easily get used to this.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Isolated within the TARDIS, Alan had no idea how much time had passed when the Master returned. He heard him calling in a singsong voice like he was playing Hide and Seek. Alan ignored him and kept reading.

"So this is where you are." The Master said with a touch of disdain in his voice. "Not quite what I expected."

"You didn't think I was the library type? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class at the Academy." Alan closed the book. "To what do I owe this dubious honour?"

The Master sat in one of the worn, cracked leather chairs. "Can't I just drop in on a friend for a chat?

"As we're not friends, I strongly doubt it. However, if you feel the need to brag, go ahead. Tell me of your new life. Why do you need me?"

The Master seemed to think it over.

"I'm not asking for you to tell me your plans for world domination, just how you got here."

The Master looked at his watch. "Maybe another time. You need to change for your first appearance as one of my bodyguards."

Alan stood. "Dark suit, tie and sunglasses? I think I might be able to lay my hands on
something like that. After all, I've had enough time to look around."

He walked out of the library and headed for the wardrobe room knowing the Master wouldn't be far behind. He needed to know where the Doctor was while all this was going on. He just had to get the Master to tell him.

Alan heard footsteps. "I'm a big boy and can get dressed by myself."

"I'm not letting you hide yourself in the TARDIS. I'm running to a schedule and I don't have time to go looking for you."

"So tell me what I need to know about Harold Saxon. Don't want to let the wrong word slip."

"Ooh, not above a little blackmail. I like that. I'll bring you a copy of my biography since you like to read so much."

"That won't help for this time." They reached their destination. "OK, just tell me how you and the TARDIS came to be here." Alan strode to the section where he remembered seeing dark
suits.

"Honestly, how much of this has actually been worn?" The Master fingered a multi-coloured monstrosity. "Though I will admit his sartorial taste has improved."

"Your story!" Alan called from the changing room. "You 'escaped' the Time War. How?"

"I made myself human. Long story. The man I became, 'Professor Yana', ended up on the planet Malcassario endeavouring to help the last surviving humans find Utopia."

Alan listened as he dressed. The Doctor, Martha and Jack had helped Yana - the Master referred to him as a whole other person and perhaps he had been - prepare to launch a rocket
to Utopia. It was Martha who had inadvertently brought Yana's attention to a broken fob watch. Once he had opened it, the Master's essence was released.

"I was shot by Yana's assistant, took refuge in the TARDIS and regenerated. The Doctor arrived, we spoke briefly and then I left them."

Alan heard the undisguised glee in his voice. I think it's time for a little defiance. He grabbed the finishing touch to his uniform and rejoined the Master.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As they were short on time, the Master had Alan teleport them down to the MoD from where his driver took them to a meet-and-greet in some posh Mayfair hotel. These things are such a bore. Only a few months to go and then no more pretence.

He looked over at Kelly. "What's with the..." He motioned his hand to take in the man's outfit. His navy suit was a fine cut, most likely Saville Row. No off-the-rack for him. It was the pinstriped waistcoat that made the obvious difference. That, and the gold pocket watch.

Kelly looked down and tugged at the vest to straighten a wrinkle. "Well, I thought that since I was not a regular bodyguard for you, one you bring out for special occasions as it were, I thought I'd need to be a bit different. The vest gives it that little oomph, don't you think?"

"You look more like a banker or a stockbroker or, God forbid, a solicitor than a bodyguard."

"Perhaps if I had been given some background information, I could have dressed in character."

The Master picked the briefcase off the floor and opened it using the combination. He tossed the manila folder that was resting on top at Kelly. Inside was the life he had created for the man. It was almost as impressive as his own.

Kelly read it over quickly. "I find it rather unnerving that you know enough about me to create this."

The Master had to admit to himself that he was rather proud of working in the colonel's strengths of weapons and languages. Maybe I should call him a Special Consultant instead of a bodyguard.

"So, we were both on the rugby team at Cambridge and I went into the RAF. Ah, Special Forces. That explains the rate of promotion," Kelly continued to read. He looked at the Master. "You know, this is eerily similar to fact."

The master put on his innocent face that always worked a charm. "Really? I just thought it would make a good read."

"This regeneration is quite a change from before, not as cold or superior and with an actual sense of humour."

"I've had to blend in, being stuck here for 16 months."

"You have the TARDIS. How are you stuck?"

"The Doctor," the Master sneered. "He fused the coordinates with that ridiculous sonic screwdriver of his. I can only travel between now and when they found me and back again. I haven't let that stop me, however."

"I can see that."

The car slowed to a stop. "We've arrived, sir."

"Very good." The Master turned to Kelly. "Now you get to meet the wife."

"Wife?!"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They stepped out of the car amidst cheers from the awaiting crowd. Why are they treating him like a movie star? I mean, charm can only go so far. The Master smiled and waved
before entering the hotel. Alan fell into his role of bodyguard, one he had played many times before. He followed the Master closely as he strode towards the conference room where
the luncheon was being held. He could hear the murmurs as word of Harold Saxon's arrival
preceded them. This is not normal for a politician.

The Master stopped at the set of double doors and waited. Belatedly, Alan realized he was to open the door. He did so, allowing 'Saxon' to make a grand entrance. He exchanged a few
greetings and shook a few hands as he made his way to the main table where a woman with
mid-length blonde hair stood waiting. This can only be the wife. She seemed the
epitome of British upper class with an ivory complexion, blue eyes and a lovely figure decked out in what was most probably a designer dress.

The Master gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Lucy, you've heard me talk about my old friend, Alan Kelly."

"Of course." Her voice was soft and cultured. She held out her hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Col. Kelly. Harry has spoken of you often."

Alan took her hand and bowed over it. "An honour to meet the woman who finally got Harry to settle down, Mrs Saxon."

"Lucy, please."

"Then I must be Alan."

"You must," interrupted the Master. "Shall we sit?"

Lucy took the seat at the Master's left while Alan was given the chair to his right, forcing a re-arrangement of place settings before the luncheon began.

A large number of people stopped to speak with 'Saxon', shake his hand and even get their photograph taken with him. On the surface, he seemed to be enjoying himself, but Alan knew the Master thought all of this beneath him. He just wished he knew how the Master had done all this. There was no way he could have swayed the majority of Britain to his side on charm alone.

When the luncheon was over, Alan followed the Saxons out to the waiting car, stopping for a photo op along the way. The Master and Lucy got into the car first and Alan climbed in and sat backwards, facing them. He leaned forward, hands on knees. "Don't you two make the
cutest couple," he said lightly. "Tell me everything."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Harry, I'm not sure I want Alan with us tonight," Lucy said as she put on her earrings. "I feel nervous around him."

The Master came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders like any comforting husband. "Really? I thought you liked him."

She looked at him in the mirror. "Yes, he's nice and he's charming, but how do we know he isn't turning people against you?"

He chuckled. "How could he? I've kept him away from mobiles and computers so he's been unable to contact UNIT or Torchwood, the only ones who'd believe him."

"But what about..." Lucy pointed to her head.

"Telepathy? In this day and age, if someone heard voices in their head, they would either think they're going mad or wouldn't say anything fearing others would think them mad. You
have no reason to worry over his loyalty. I own him. He can do nothing without me." He felt her relax. "There. Now let's just enjoy tonight and know that I've got everything in hand."

She faced him. "Of course you do." She kissed him. "I don't know why I doubted you." She headed for the door. "Are you coming?"

"You go ahead. I'll be right down."

After Lucy had gone, the Master looked at himself in the mirror. This incarnation was perfect for public life. The boyish charm and good looks did better than slicked-back hair and a goatee. As Kelly had said, not as cold and with a sense of humour.

Kelly. He had been rather cooperative with little or no resistance. Well, that's what happens when a man has no choice. Kelly wasn't broken, but he was quite surprised the man hadn't at least tried anything yet. He had probably been plotting and scheming to escape at the first opportunity.

At this point, it really didn't matter. He did have it all in hand. The Doctor and Miss Martha Jones met just two days ago. Yesterday, yes, the Lazarus Experiment failed, but he had already corrected the errors. He had also had an agent on hand to begin turning Francine Jones against the Doctor. He chuckled. The Doctor, who, at this moment in time, had no idea of his existence, thanks to Archangel. Oh, he was so predictable.

Tomorrow when he won the election, it would mark the beginning of the end of the Earth. With one last look in the mirror, he straightened his tie and rejoined his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The day after the election - which was just a formality, judging by the results - Alan had been "fetched" and brought in to be part of the entourage as the new Prime Minister met with the Queen.

Now, within Saxon headquarters, Alan stayed back as far as he dared, blending in with the other bodyguards. He watched as the Master used that boyish charm on the media. The whole thing made what resided behind that façade even more dangerous. Who would ever suspect that face of such heinous crimes? Oh, the loving couple. Give me a break!

Then the Master spoke. "This country has been sick. This country needs healing."

Oh, I know where he's going.

"This country needs medicine. In fact, I'll go so far as to say, what this country really needs, right now, is a doctor." After a quick smile for the cameras, he and Lucy walked to the limo, Alan and a guard not far behind.

Alan got in the back with the Master and Lucy while the guard sat up front with the driver. "This whole thing was a set-up!" he declared as the car got underway. "This is just to get the Doctor!"

"No need to get your knickers in a twist, Colonel. The Doctor only just arrived. I sensed him the moment it happened. Anyway, he miscalculated. There's no way he can stop it now. His TARDIS is mine and Torchwood is virtually on the other side of the world."

"This is the Doctor. You know things like this won't stop him."

"I have taken that all into consideration. After all this time, I know his weaknesses."

Alan knew that wasn't an empty boast. He sat back and remained quiet for the rest of the drive.

The car pulled up in front of Number 10 and the Saxons emerged to the sound of clicking shutters as photographers from all over the world marked the event. Alan followed feeling more like a puppy at his owner's heels instead of a supposed right-hand man.

On the ground floor, the household staff greeted them. Upstairs on the way to the Cabinet Room, various clerks handed him files that needed his attention.

Just before he went inside, Lucy placed a hand on the Master's arm. "I'm so proud of you, Harry."

He kissed her. "Bless."

At that moment, a young black woman approached them. "Uh, sir... If you don't mind me asking...I'm sorry, but it's all a bit new. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Oh yes, what was it, uh..?"

"Tish. Letitia Jones."

Christ! He's got Martha's sister! He must want her close to use as a hostage if necessary.

"Tish." He repeated the name like he was testing the sound of it. "Well then, Tish, you just stand there and look gorgeous." The Master entered the Cabinet Room.

Alan knew he would have to keep an eye on Tish for Martha's sake. Perhaps after he had built up something of an acquaintance, he might be able to use telepathy and warn her of the danger. Until then, she'd just think him mad.

He approached her. "Letitia Jones? I'm Alan Kelly. You don't know me, but I'm a friend of your sister's."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Master sat at the table tapping out that incessant drumming. Maybe if he achieved his goal, it would stop. He straightened and removed the mask, the gas having already
dissipated. He looked at the bodies of the Cabinet members. They had betrayed their own
parties to join his bandwagon so who was to say they wouldn't have done it again?

This also cleared the last bit of opposition out of the way. There would be no one to question his plans, no one declaring every little thing had to be put to a vote. He headed for the door. From this moment, the Cabinet was "in seclusion".

He left the room, closing the door tightly behind him only to see Kelly speaking with the Jones girl. That would not do. "Miss Jones. Tish, please go assist Mrs Saxon and make sure she is not disturbed."

"Yes, sir." She scurried off.

"Hiring Martha's sister was an interesting move."

"She could prove useful. Family ties and all. I have a job for you." He opened the door to the Cabinet Room and pushed Kelly inside. The Master closely followed, closing the door
quickly behind him.

Kelly stood still, a blend of horror and disgust on his face. "You killed them! They
supported you in your campaign and you killed them!'

"Your point?" The man was almost as morally high-minded as the Doctor.

"You are totally demented!" Kelly glared at him. "I expect you want me to dispose of the bodies."

"I do know this lovely, isolated spot." He grabbed Kelly's arm and removed the cuff. "You are to go to the destination I tell you, no deviation. You are not to contact the Doctor or any of his companions. Failure to comply will result in an injury to my newest employee."

The look on the colonel's face was priceless. "You wouldn't."

"Not if you do as you're told. It's quite a simple decision, really."

"Fine," Kelly said resignedly. "Where am I going?"

"Llyn y Fan Fawr," the Master told him.

Kelly stood between two bodies, a hand on each. "I will make sure word of this gets out," he stated before disappearing.

"If it's later than 8:02 tomorrow morning, it won't matter." He sat in his chair and waited for Kelly to return. Once this little matter was taken care of, he'd go check on Lucy. It
wouldn't do to have her slip up when he was this close.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Alan didn't think he'd ever feel clean again. He had never done anything so dirty. Forget all the perfumes of Arabia. Try all the perfumes of the world, maybe the galaxy. He'd have to do something to redeem himself, to make being at the Master's beck-and-call worth it, before he lost his humanity.

He stopped when he saw Tish standing nervously outside the closed door to Lucy's sitting room. Even though he wanted to follow the Master into his study and confront him, he wanted to put Tish at ease. "What is it?"

"Mrs Saxon said she didn't want to be disturbed but the reporter just pushed her way past me and--" She took a couple of deep breaths. "She said it was more or less a fashion piece so Mrs Saxon said okay."

"Then why are you upset? Mrs Saxon agreed to speak with her."

"But she shouldn't have gotten by me in the first place. I hardly have any duties and the ones I do have, I can't even do right."

"I think this reporter--"

"Mrs Rook," supplied Tish.

"Mrs Rook has far more experience pushing past assistants and clerks than you do at stopping her. You'll do better next time."

She brightened. "Thanks." She saw the clock on the wall. "I'd better go see if they need help setting up for the address. Thanks again."

"Don't forget to phone your sister!" he called after her. Alan looked at the sitting room door. Somehow he knew Mrs Rook did not want to do a simple personal piece. He sat in the chair at the desk and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the woman's name and soon he was seeing through the reporter's eyes. The setting wasn't that unusual except for the three floating metal spheres. Lucy and the Master accepted them, but Alan could feel Rook's terror as they came towards her.

"The lady doesn't like us," said one in a feminine voice, blades extending from its lower half.

"Silly lady," said a second in a masculine voice.

"Dead lady," said the third in a deeper male voice.

Alan pulled himself out of Vivian Rook as she began to scream. Outside in the hall, he breathed deep as he tried to calm down. Why had the Master killed her? She had to have suspected that he wasn't who he said he was.

At that moment, the door to the Prime Minister's study opened and the couple stepped out. The Master looked at Alan and he realized the Master knew what he had done.

"Sir." One of the aides came down the hall. "They're ready for you."

"Thank you," the Master said as Lucy looped her arm through his. "Come on, Alan. Don't you want to witness history?" With a knowing smirk, he headed for the Cabinet Room.

With no choice, Alan had to follow.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Master stood on the tarmac as Winters lectured him on the so-called protocol for First Contact. "First contact cannot take place on any sovereign soil. For that purpose, the aircraft carrier Valiant is en route. The rendezvous will take place there at 8:00 am."

The Master pretended to speak through zipped lips. Acting like an idiot was something he had picked up from the Doctor - and perfected.

"You're trying my patience, sir."

The Master unzipped his lips. "So America is completely in charge?"

"Since Britain elected an ass, yes. I'll see you onboard the Valiant." Winters turned to leave.

"It still will be televised, though, won't it? Because I promised, and the whole world is watching." And they will see the end of the world as they know it and witness the birth of something new.

"Since it's too late to pull out, the world will be watching. Me." Winters turned and headed for his waiting car.

The Master watched him walk away. 'The last President of America. We have a private plane ready and waiting. We should reach the Valiant within the hour." He motioned for Lucy to go first. "My darling."

He watched as the President's car disappeared. Everything was falling into place. Kelly was secured in the TARDIS. The Doctor and his companions were on the run. Correction: were right behind him watching it all. Why does he think a perception filter will work on me? Let's have a little fun. He turned and looked directly at the three, pretending not to see them. He turned for the car but stopped when he heard a siren, smiling as the police
van approached him. When it came to a stop, two police opened the back doors and took the Jones family out.

"Hi, guys!" he greeted with a smile. They all began to speak at once, making demands, none of which he planned to answer now. It would ruin tomorrow's entertainment. "All will be revealed!"

The family was put into a Land Rover and driven off. With one last look in the Doctor's direction, the Master got into the car with Lucy and headed for their plane.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Alan woke the next morning a little groggy. He had a feeling the Master had drugged him. How else could he have slept for-he checked his watch-14 hours? The Master's plan would
culminate in a little less than 30 minutes. Alan pulled on some jeans, a T-shirt and some trainers before going to check on the console room like he did every morning. He had thought of it as a challenge and also to build up mental resistance to the TARDIS's pain. It had progressed to the point where it felt like a dull throbbing, like the onset of a migraine.

Alan stopped at the door when he heard familiar voices.

"Doctor, what is it?" That was Martha.

"He's cannibalised the TARDIS," the Doctor answered.

"Is that what I think it is?" And that was Jack.

"It's a paradox machine."

Alan opened the door. "Took you long enough to get here," he said as he walked in.

"Alan!" Martha met him halfway and hugged him tightly.

They walked over to the console where the Doctor and Jack were standing. Both men clasped him in a warm embrace-Jack's lasting a little longer than the Doctor's. "I see your patience paid off," Alan said to Jack.

"Yeah, he came to refuel and I, um, hitched a ride."

"But what are you doing here?" the Doctor asked.

"She called me," Alan answered, motioning with his hands to encompass the TARDIS. He then explained all he had been through and witnessed. He looked at Martha. "I tried to help Tish but they brought me up here before I could do anything."

"Do you have any idea of what he has planned?" Jack asked.

Alan shook his head. "He only told me the barest minimum. Whatever it is, he's been working on it for months."

"How much time do we have?"

The Doctor squatted in front of the gauge. "As soon as this hits red, it activates. At this speed, it'll trigger--" he grabbed Jack's wrist and looked at his watch-"at two minutes past 8:00."

"First contact is at 8:00 and then two minutes later..." Jack didn't need to finish the sentence.

"That doesn't leave us much time," said Alan.

Martha got down next to the Doctor. "What's it for? What's a paradox machine do?"

"More importantly, can you stop it?" Jack demanded.

"Not until I know what it's doing. Touch the wrong bit and blow up the solar system."

"Then we've got to get to the Master," stated Martha.

"Yeah. How do we stop him?" Jack wanted to know.

"Oh, I've got a way." The Doctor looked at them. "Sorry, didn't I tell you?" He grinned and stood. "Let's go." Alan hesitated. "What's wrong?"

Alan held up his arm with the cuff on it. "I can only leave with the person wearing the mate to this."

"I know," said Jack. "They were mine." Martha looked at him questioningly. "Long story."

The Doctor examined the bracelet. "Let me guess. The Master told you only he could take it off."

"Something like that, yeah. What are you doing?"

The Doctor found the spot where the cuff joined and pulled. "Another of the Master's lies," the Time Lord said, slipping the device into his pocket. "Anyone but the wearer can take it off."

"No wonder he kept that to himself."

"It's almost 8:00," said Martha as she headed for the door.

"Right." The Doctor attempted to be light-hearted. "I think it's time to save the world."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Master reclined as well as he could in the uncomfortable chair as Winters addressed the world. A man so pompous deserved what he got. He smiled. In just under two minutes he would be the unequivocal ruler of the Earth. His smile faded as he sensed the Doctor enter the room. It was right that he would be here to witness the beginning of the new world order.

"And I ask you now, I ask of the human race, to join with me in welcoming our friends. I give you the Toclafane."

The Master smiled at the gasp that echoed through the room. And this is just the beginning.

The sphere's hovered around Winters as he introduced himself and welcomed them. "You're not the Master," said the first.

"We like the Mr Master," added the second, the female.

"We don't like you," said the third.

Winters tried to assert himself but the "Toclafane" wanted nothing to do with him. It was becoming unbearable to watch. "Oh, all right then. It's me." The Master stood and moved to the front at the bottom of the steps. "Ta da!" he laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I have this effect. People just get obsessed. Is it the smile? Is it the aftershave? Is it the capacity to laugh at myself? I don't know. It's crazy!"

Winters glared at him from the steps. "Saxon, what are you talkin' about?"

The Master turned on Winters, arms crossed, all humour gone. "I'm taking control, Uncle Sam. Starting with you" He looked at the "Toclafane". "Kill him."

One of the spheres shot Winters, disintegrating him. Chaos erupted as everyone tried to leave the room. There was one, however, who rushed in: Kelly. The Doctor must have stopped at the TARDIS. "Guards!"

Saxon's men rushed forward, weapons raised. "Nobody move!" one ordered. "Nobody move!"

Kelly stopped, a gun aimed at his head. "So this was your big plan?"

"Merely a small part." He stood on the steps and looked into the camera. "Now then, peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully."

The Doctor chose that moment to rush forward, making himself seen. "Stop him!" yelled one of the guards and two others grabbed him, forcing the Doctor to his knees.

"We meet at last, Doctor," the Master said looking down at his foe. He laughed. "I love saying that."

"Stop this! Stop it now!" his long-time adversary demanded.

"As if a perception filter's gonna work on me." He looked to the back wall where Miss Jones and the captain were standing. "Oh, and look, it's the girlie and the freak. Although, I'm not sure which one's which."

Harkness ran towards him, and the Master took out his own screwdriver and fired a laser at the man. The captain fell to the floor dead. "Laser screwdriver, who'd have sonic? And the good thing is, he's not dead for long. I get to kill him again!" he said gleefully.

Martha ran to Jack and Kelly pushed past his guards to get closer to the Doctor. "Oh, and the good colonel. A man forced to do every distasteful job for someone he detests. A hero demoted to general dogsbody, rendered powerless to stop what he sees happening." The Master then noticed that Kelly was no longer wearing the cuff. "Why don't you try something now, Colonel?" he taunted.

Kelly clenched his fists at his sides but did nothing.

"Master, just calm down," placated the Doctor. "Just look at what you're doing. Just stop. If you could see yourself..."

The Master sighed. It wouldn't do for the world to see him explain all to the Doctor. It would be bad for PR. He looked to the camera. "Oh, do excuse me, little bit of personal business. Back in a minute."

He ordered the guards to let the Doctor go and they pushed him to the floor.

Undaunted, the Doctor continued to plead his case. "It's that sound, the sound in your head. What if I could help?"

"Oh, how to shut him up? I know. Memory Lane!" He sat on the steps facing the Doctor and proceeded to tell him of his connection to the ill-fated Professor Lazarus. The look on the Doctor's face at the revelation of the hand was priceless. "And if Lazarus made himself
younger, what if I reverse it? Another hundred years?" He aimed the screwdriver at the Doctor, switched it on and then watched as the Doctor screamed and convulsed as his genetic makeup was altered.

"Is this the only way you can stop him?" Kelly yelled. "Change him into a helpless old man? You're pathetic!"

The Master stopped and the Doctor fell to the floor. No one calls me pathetic. "Just be thankful I don't have your genetic material." He saw Martha crawl away from the now-conscious Jack to the Doctor. Now it was time for her surprise. "Aw, she's a would-be doctor. But tonight, Martha Jones, we've flown 'em in all the way from prison--" He motioned to the door, and it slid open as guards escorted in Mum, Dad, and the lovely Tish.

"Mum," Martha said softly as she stood.

"I'm sorry," Francine apologized in-between sobs.

A mother's love is so easy to manipulate. The Doctor was trying to speak so the Master bent down so he could hear.

"The Toclafane," he said breathing heavily, "who are they? Who are they?"

"Doctor, if I told you the truth, your hearts would break."

"Is it time? Is it ready? Is the machine singing?" asked the three Toclafane like eager children.

The Master checked his watch. "Two minutes past." He joined Lucy on the steps and once again spoke to the camera. "So! Earthlings. Basically, um, end of the world." He held up the screwdriver and used it to start the end. "Here...come...the drums!"

To the sound of the Rogue Traders, cued to start at that moment, the paradox machine activated and the Master went to the window to watch as a massive rift tore open the sky and thousands upon thousands of Toclafane appeared through it.

"How many do you think?" he asked his wife.

"I don't know."

Oh, I love that simple devotion and trust! "Six billion." He flicked a switch that activated the exterior speakers. "Down you go, kids!"

As he looked down through the clouds, he could only imagine the havoc and chaos as the
Toclafane fired indiscriminately. Even so, he felt the need to punch things up a few notches. He looked at Lucy. "Shall we decimate them? That sounds good. Nice word-decimate. Remove one-tenth of the population!" he ordered the Toclafane.

He watched, elated, as his plan came to fruition. He needed to share - no, gloat over it - with the Doctor. He turned and looked down at the group and noticed they were one short. Martha Jones was gone! The Master then remembered she had been by Harkness. He looked and saw the captain no longer wore his vortex manipulator. It's okay, just a minor setback to the plan. What can she do alone anyway?

"You weren't expecting that, were you?" This was the old, unintimidated Kelly back. "Just because you're from the future doesn't mean you know what's going to happen. For example..."

"No!" the Master yelled. Too late. With a wink, Kelly was gone. He growled in frustration. Kelly's military training combined with his talents made him dangerous. His retrieval would be top priority. But for now...

He bounded down the steps, grabbed the Doctor by the lapels and dragged him up to the viewing platform. He kept one hand on the Doctor's shoulder and another on his arm, holding him in place between him and Lucy. "And so it came to pass...that the human race fell and the Earth was no more. And I looked down upon my new dominion as master of all and I thought it...good."

To Be Continued

Prospect and Convenience (2/2)

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 14:25:30 GMT

Title: Prospect and Convenience
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: Doctor Who/TOC Files
Characters: Ten, Martha, OC
Word Count: 14,562
Rating: G (I believe)
Summary: The Doctor and Martha arrive in Washington DC with plans to attend a social gala, however they soon learn that there is a war going on. However, that's not the only problem. People have gone missing and there have been sightings of mysterious creatures.
Notes: This is the sixth installment in my planned series to have Alan Kelly meet all of the Doctor's incarnations. Thanks to an earlier poll, I have a few ideas brewing for later stories. Thanks to fourzoas for being my beta and making sense of my disjointed scribblings.
Disclaimer The Doctor, Martha and the TARDIS belong to the BBC. Alan Kelly is mine.

Part One

The Doctor and Jack were retracing their steps. "If the signal was in the city somewhere, why are we going in the opposite direction?"

"I want to know a bit more about what we're up against before we confront them."

"And you can learn this from the place the others were taken from?"

"You can learn any number of things if you look hard enough. Right, this should be it." He dismounted nimbly, pulled out the sonic screwdriver and switched it on.

"What is that?" Jack asked in amazement.

"Sonic screwdriver. Right now it's acting as a torch." He panned the clearing. "Definitely a sign of a struggle. Just look at all that kicked-up dirt. There is one thing..."

"There aren't any bodies."

"Exactly. It supports my theory that these abductions are for the purpose of slave labour."

"So that means there's a good chance that everyone they took is still alive."

The Doctor looked at Jack. "Good thinking. Yes, they won't be killed outright but it also depends on the conditions where they're being kept."

"So where are they being kept?"

"They seem to be nocturnal. They only come out at night," he clarified at Jack's puzzled look. "Because of that, I'd say they're probably in a cave or some tunnels."

"I don't think there are any caves in the middle of the city." Jack stifled a yawn.

"Why don't you get back to your comrades-in-arms and get some sleep. I can't really do much more tonight." The Doctor turned off the sonic screwdriver and took the reins of his mount that snickered in protest.

"You grab yourself forty winks, Doctor. You won't be able to help much if you're groggy." Jack climbed up into the saddle.

"Just look to yourself, Jack," the Doctor said as he leapt onto his mount. "And, I will have you know, I don't get groggy."

"If you say so, Doctor. Let me know what's happening!" Jack galloped off.

The Doctor waved, forgetting it was night and Jack couldn't see. He then turned his mount back towards the city and the TARDIS, determined to find out what happened to Alan, Sullivan and the British soldiers. At least Martha is safely out of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Martha tried to follow Lizzie at a safe distance. If she got too close she was afraid the maid would see the light from the torch, yet if she wasn't close enough, she would easily get lost in the maze of tunnels. Why did I think this would be easy? Did I even think of the possible danger of being underground with limited avenues of escape? No! I had to let my curiosity win out.

She almost didn't notice Lizzie had stopped until it was too late. The poor girl was standing in the middle of the tunnel, hands over her face, sobbing. Martha rushed to her.

"Lizzie, it's all right. These tunnels can seem overwhelming but I think we can get out if we put our heads together."

Lizzie lowered her hands and turned to Martha who drew back from her cold, expressionless face. Lizzie snatched Martha's wrist in a vice-like grip, forcing her to drop the torch. "You should not have followed."

"Lizzie, let go! You're hurting me!" She tried to pull away but the other girl was unnaturally strong.

Another figure stepped out of the shadows and Martha recognized him as a footman from the White House. How many servants have been taken over?

"Bring her," he ordered in that same monotone. "They can always use more labour."

Lizzie pulled a struggling Martha down the tunnel after the footman. "This isn't funny!" She dug her heels in. "I demand you tell me where you're taking me!"

Lizzie ignored her and dragged her through the dark tunnels.

Martha knew she wouldn't be able to talk Lizzie out of it, especially with that footman around, so she tried to memorize the turns in order to make her way back--if she ever had the chance.

About five minutes later, they stopped and the footman pressed his hand to the wall and a door slid open. In the dim light, she could just make out the bodies crammed inside. Just before the door shut and the light was gone, she thought she saw Alan unconscious and propped against the wall. With her torch gone, she patted her pockets for another source of light and found her mobile. She flipped it open and used the pale glow to get her bearings before closing it. She then crept a few paces before repeating the process.

It wasn't long before she was kneeling next to Alan. "What's wrong with him?" she asked the uniformed officer next to him.

"I don't really know. We were talking and he just passed out mid-sentence. No, don't," he added as she reached for the strange collar around his neck. "It gives him a shock whenever anyone touches it."

Martha withdrew her hands. This is going to make things more difficult.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan came to slowly and heard voices murmuring beside him; one of them was female with a London accent. "Martha, when did you get here?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. How do you feel?"

"A little fuzzy-headed. How come I didn't-They drugged me, didn't they?"

"That would be my guess. Maj. Sullivan said you passed out mid-sentence."

"Wonderful. As if shocking me wasn't enough, they have to drug me too." He pulled himself up straighter. "Martha, why aren't you at the White-Executive Mansion?"

"You pack an outfit like this for me and expect me to stay inside?"

"'Course not. I just didn't expect you to join me in prison. What happened?"

"I was sneaking out through the kitchen to meet up with you and the Doctor when I saw Lizzie-one of the maids-disappear into the larder."

"She is a maid," put in Sullivan. "What is so strange about her going into the larder?"

"The fact that she didn't come out. I peeked inside and it was empty."

"So you decided to explore." Alan couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. There's a whole maze of tunnels and I followed Lizzie. When I caught up with her, she turned on me. I think these aliens have taken control of her and at least one other servant. They brought me here."

"I don't understand," said Sullivan. "Why a servant? Why not someone of influence, of power?"

"Most don't even notice their servants until they're needed," Alan answered. "Because of that, they hear everything. Also, if the tunnel entrance is in the kitchen, they can guard it better."

"Then there might be more out there," said Martha. "There's no way that was the only entrance."

"If this labyrinth is as big as you say, perhaps there are entrances at compass points to allow access from any quadrant in the city."

"Good thinking, Sullivan."

"If I think of it as simple military strategy, I can manage. We just need to learn which entrance is closest."

And get this damn thing off my neck or we're not going anywhere."

"There has to be a way to get that off." Martha leaned forward like she was trying to peer at it in the practically nonexistent light. "I wish I had the Doctor's sonic screwdriver."

"I wish we had the Doctor. He'd be able to whip up something." He absently rubbed the back of his head. "Either that or talk them 'round."

"He always gives them a chance," Martha commented. "If they don't heed his warning..."

"He didn't seem that powerful to me," said Sullivan.

"The man is brilliant, Sullivan. Years and years of learning." Alan fought off a yawn. "Now let's plan our escape before they knock me out again."

"I talked with some of the others before you got here," Sullivan started. "These creatures seem very set in their procedures."

Alan woke with a groan. "Please tell me I didn't sleep through our opportunity."

"No," Martha said from close to his left. "But you did sleep through something else." He could tell from her tone she was smiling.

"What?" She leaned into his vision and he tried to back away when he realized what she was trying to do. "Are you mad?" He tensed for the shock that would wrack his body. Nothing happened. "What did you do? The collar's still there, I can feel it."

"I used the battery from my mobile to short it out."

"How did you know it would work?"

"I didn't. I just hoped it would."

Alan chuckled. "Oh yeah, you definitely travel with the Doctor." He slowly stood. "C'mon, we'd better get in position." He looked at her. "What are you doing with a mobile?"

"Habit."

They shuffled along in the dark, the other prisoners helping them. Alan knew the plan wasn't original or daring but felt it would work considering the amount of people they had. "Everyone knows what's happening?"

"Sullivan is spreading the word now," Martha informed him. "Even though he's a British officer, we thought the majority would be willing to listen to him more that a black woman. Do you think it'll work?"

"I hope so. I've a Plan B if you shorted this completely."

"And if I didn't?"

It might kill me. "We'll worry about that when the time comes."

A few moments later the door slid open and Alan got his first look at his captors. They were tall--hovering at seven-feet-and hulking with short snouts and small rounded ears reminding him of bears. He flattened himself against the wall as two of the three entered the room.

"Get up you lazy beasts!" they growled. "You should be thankful you have been chosen to serve the great Ursal Empire." One of them kicked a prisoner who took too long to stand.

The Ursals continued their way through the room and when they were far enough away from the door, the plan went into action. A group of the prisoners began a fight and it spread, escalating to the point where the third had to enter the cavern. At that moment, Alan and Martha began herding other prisoners out the door.

It wasn't long before the Ursals realized what was going on and headed back towards the door. Alan looked back at Sullivan, wishing him to hurry up. The man in question looked at him over the remaining prisoners and shook his head. Alan hesitated, wanting to run down there and get him out.

"Alan, c'mon! We've got to go now!" Martha grabbed his arm.

Pulled out of his stupor, Alan followed Martha. "Just keep going up. We're bound to reach the surface."

He could hear the others far ahead as their footsteps echoed down the tunnels. He soon felt an itching at his neck and somehow knew that Martha hadn't deactivated he whole collar. He kept himself moving knowing that if he stopped he'd collapse. If anything he had to get Martha back to the TARDIS and the Doctor.

He was dimly aware when the stone walls became cement and that he climbed steps. They came out into a corridor that led to a large semi-circular domed room with marble columns. He leaned against the wall as he fought a bout of dizziness. I am not about to let those grizzlies win now that we've gotten this far.

"Alan, are you all right? Why didn't you say something?"

Alan gripped her by the shoulders. "Hold on," he whispered, closing his eyes.

He thought of the TARDIS, held Martha tighter, and then followed the connection. He opened his eyes and smiled at his success. He then let the sedative take over and he collapsed in Martha's arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Doctor stared open-mouthed at the new arrivals. He usually was the one to do the appearing so it was strange to see it happen. It was also unusual for anything to materialize within the TARDIS. He moved only when Alan passed out, rushing to help Martha. Between the two of them, they carried Alan to the couch in the small sitting area. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah. The aliens singled Alan out because of the technology they found on him and used that collar."

"These aliens, did you see them?" he asked as he used the sonic screwdriver on the collar.

"They looked like bears and said something about the Great Ursal Empire." She looked at Alan. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I'll be able to tell better once the collar comes off." He adjusted the setting. "This was designed to give electric shocks if anyone tampered with it or if he got too far away. He's lucky that it shorted out."

"That was me."

"Hm?" He almost had it.

"I used the battery from my mobile to short it out."

He looked at her, amazed. "That was quite clever. Good thing you had your mobile."

"I always take it with me when I go out."

"I was hoping you'd stay out of this, I guess I should have known better."

"Well, Alan knew I wouldn't stay." She touched the back of her hand to his forehead checking for a fever. "He packed these for me in the trunk."

"Got it!" The collar snapped open and the Doctor widened it to reveal a row of small needles at regular intervals. "Ooh, this looks nasty." There were corresponding punctures along Alan's neck. "I'll need to test to see what they injected him with."

"I think it might be a sedative. He was dosed twice that I saw. Alan thought it was to prevent his escape. That must have activated once we left the cavern. He was fighting that off the whole time and never said anything."

"The man is true hero material." The Doctor lifted Alan's eyelids. "Pupil response is normal. He'll just need to sleep it off."

"Are you sure?"

"The Ursals are a brutish race but they don't kill unnecessarily. Alan was still considered an asset to be used. If they thought him to be troublesome, they wouldn't have bothered at all." The Doctor looked down at Alan's wrist as something Martha said sunk in. Singled out due to his technology. There was the proof. Alan's wrist was empty, only the red-lined impressions marking where his machine had been. The Doctor gave a whistle of appreciation
"What?" Martha asked.

"I thought Alan brought you here using his machine but it seems the Ursals took it. Alan," the Doctor tapped his head, "teleported you here. I knew he could, but to take you along as he was fighting off the drugs... The man never ceases to amaze."

"He transported the both of us here with his mind?" She looked down at the unconscious man. "What can we do for him?"

"Make him comfortable then leave him be." He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "Come on."

"What about Alan? We can't just leave him."

"He'll be fine in the TARDIS."

Martha reluctantly joined him. "Where are we going?"

"The White House. I want to check out those tunnels."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Martha had made it to her room without too many people seeing her though she was sure that there would be talk of her being dressed as a man and returning when most ladies were abed. What had been strange was finding Lizzie setting the fire in the grate. A look of surprise passed across the maid's face before she regained her composure.

She had curtsied. "Is there anything I can help you with, miss?"

"No, thank you, Lizzie." Martha had just stood there and waited for Lizzie to leave. Once the girl had gone, she had stretched out on the bed for a quick nap.

Now she stood with the Doctor in Dolley's parlour as the Doctor tried to explain what was happening. The First Lady seemed to be taking it very well. At least she wasn't in hysterics. She listened patiently, letting the Doctor continue uninterrupted. She was quiet for a moment after the Doctor finished.

"These creatures from another world are kidnapping American citizens and British soldiers alike to use as beasts of burden?"

"They are so advanced that that is what we are to them," Martha said. "We were kept in a large dark underground cavern. I was only there a few hours but I was told that the others were fed just enough to keep them alive." She ignored Dolley's incredulous face and finished. "Alan and I escaped along with about twenty others with the help of a British officer, Maj. Sullivan."

"You are not a royal princess, are you?"

"No, ma'am. We never intended--" She stopped when Dolley held up her hand for silence.

"I understand. You were just looking for free room and board. Under normal circumstances I could have you arrested but these times are far from normal. As you are perhaps the only people who understand what is going on, I will lend you every assistance I can. Word of your deception will not go beyond these walls."

"Thank you, ma'am." Martha sighed with relief and she could see the Doctor had resumed his normal demeanour. If Dolley had withdrawn her support, it would have made rescuing the others and defeating the Ursals more difficult.

"In exchange for this leniency, I expect the three of you to leave once this matter is resolved. I trust the colonel will be well enough to travel?"

"Yes, ma'am, that shouldn't be a problem," the Doctor answered.

"Very well. Now that we know where we stand, what is your next move?"

"I'd like to inspect the larder with the least amount of people present. We don't need more people knowing about the tunnels than necessary."

"Give me time to call a staff meeting. That should make it easier for you to move about." She looked at the delicate ormolu clock resting on the mantle. "10:00?"

"10:00 will do nicely, ma'am." The Doctor looked to Martha. "A turn in the grounds, Your Highness?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

When he put his arm out, Martha was reminded of her first trip in the TARDIS when they met Shakespeare. She placed her arm through his. "That would be lovely, Doctor."

As they left the room, Martha could have sworn she heard Dolley chuckle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was out in the woods supposedly looking for a dodo of all things and then he was being chased and attacked by a grizzly. Alan woke with a start. It took him a moment to realize he was in the TARDIS.

He sat up slowly and wondered how long he had been asleep. He guessed he was alone as the Doctor was not making use of the time by working at the console. Martha wasn't here because there was no way she'd let the Doctor out of her sight. At a guess, they had gone back to the White House to tell Dolley what was going on and to let the Doctor check out those tunnels.

"Well, as there seems to be nothing for me to do at the moment, I guess a shower and a change of clothes tops the agenda." He stood and walked slowly towards the interior door, giving the room time to stop spinning. "Just don't let me get lost."

He walked the corridors of the TARDIS and whenever he came to an intersection or a fork, the TARDIS gave him a mental nudge, keeping him from wandering off course. When he opened the door to the wardrobe room, he was gobsmacked. He had not been expecting a multi-level mall. "This many clothes and he hardly ever changes his outfit."

In his search for something simple and serviceable, Alan passed a number of familiar pieces including two velvet jackets-one red and one green-a well-worn black leather jacket, a marvellously hideous patchwork coat, and, wrapped around the staircase railing like a Christmas garland, was a long multi-coloured scarf. Apart from what he remembered, there were clothes from every era of Earth's history as well as other planets. "This would make the Wardrobe Department at the BBC jealous," he murmured as he fingered the skirt of a white Edwardian gown.

He decided on brown trousers, white button-up shirt and short brown jacket all in cotton. They weren't of the period but it would pass all but close scrutiny.

Now, with outfit chosen, Alan exited the wardrobe and followed the TARDIS's directions for the showers. The TARDIS led him somewhere a bit different. "This is not a shower," Alan informed her. "Actually, this is much better."

He put his new clothes on one of the chairs dotted along the edge before stripping down to his underwear and diving into the pool. The temperature was ideal and he immediately relaxed as he eased into a breaststroke. His mind wandered back over all that had happened recently and tried to find a way to stop the Ursals. I am not about to let them get away with enslaving his fellow humans who know nothing of what's going on. His stroke became a vigorous freestyle. I am not going to let Sullivan make such a sacrifice. He's supposed to die on the battlefield for King and Country, not because of a stupid bunch of aliens. Besides, the damn things have my machine.

He stopped and stood in the shallow end and let his breathing return to normal. He looked up when he heard the clapping. It was Martha.

"Watch out, Michael Phelps."

"I don't think he has anything to worry about." Alan pulled himself out of the pool.

"I-I-I guess you're, um, feeling better."

Alan towelled himself down. "Oh, yeah. The TARDIS knew exactly what I needed." He pretended to ignore her as he prepared to change into dry clothes.

"I'll, uh, just go tell the, uh, Doctor that you're, um, ok."

Alan made sure to keep a straight face at her flustered reaction. He turned his back as he felt a smile twitching. She had to be blushing by now. "Tell him I'll be up shortly." He heard her footsteps quickly rush down the hall. "It's a good thing for her that I thought such a thing might happen."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Upon entering the TARDIS, the Doctor had gone straight to the console to cross-reference what he had learned in the tunnels.

"Doctor," Martha had said, concerned, "Alan's gone."

"Nothing to worry about. Alan's no stranger to the TARDIS."

"I'm going to see if he's all right."

He had waved in her general direction. The main thing he had noticed about the tunnels was that they were too smooth to have been carved out by human hands. That could mean the Ursals used this location before. Odds are the tunnel system extends under most of Washington. He pulled up a contemporary map of the city and highlighted the White House. Now, everything the Ursals do revolves around symbols, which means, if I can find the right one, I'll have an image of the tunnels. He watched the monitor as a myriad of symbols appeared onscreen one after the other. Going by what Martha had told him, some he dismissed for being too simple and others as being too complex.

He stretched his neck and looked up to see a rather dazed and bewildered Martha. "Did you see Alan, then?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. He said he'd join us in a bit." She came to stand beside him. "What are you looking at?"

"Ursal symbols. They're a pretty superstitious lot and wouldn't undertake something like this without blessing it."

"And you think they carved the tunnels to resemble this symbol."

"But only having the one entry point is making for tough going. One more would narrow things down considerably."

"The Capitol." Alan entered combing his damp hair with his fingers. "Martha and I came out through the Capitol."

"Showers are good for helping you relax, brings forth memories."

"I was in the pool, actually. I was just finishing when Martha found me."

"Oh." The Doctor noticed how Martha was avoiding looking at Alan. "Oh."

"So, if you add the Capitol, how much will that narrow things down?" Martha asked, changing the subject none too subtly.

"It should." He highlighted the Capitol and could immediately see that both landmarks were on a line running from northwest to southeast. "Well, that narrowed our choices by about 40%."

"Sullivan said something about having entrances at compass points."

"Right," Martha agreed. "It would give access from different parts of the city."

"Sensible military thinking." The Doctor looked at Alan. "I'm surprised you didn't come up with that."

"I admit I wasn't at my best." He fingered his throat.

One of the symbols flashed on the screen as it met all requirements. "Yes! Oh, that was so obvious a choice I should have realized right away."

"Some clarification for those of us not versed in alien bear?" Martha asked.

"It's a combination of the symbol for stealth and the one for mastery over lesser beings."

"I can't believe they actually have a symbol for that," commented Alan. "So what now?"

"Now the Doctor confronts the Ursals, giving them a chance to leave peacefully while we rescue the others." Martha smiled.

"What she said," the Doctor agreed with a wide smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Martha found it eerie walking through a mostly deserted city. She had forgotten this was a city under siege. Chasing after aliens kind of put things in perspective. Walking to the Capitol also made her realize just how far Alan had teleported. She gave him a sideways glance, wondering what else he was capable of.

"How are we going to cover the other exits?" Alan asked. "The militia has evacuated so we can't ask Jack and his friends for help this time 'round."

They walked onto Constitution Avenue and straight into a British patrol. Of course. She raised her hands.

"Identify yourselves," demanded the captain.

"I'm the Doctor, this is Martha, and that is Col. Alan Kelly."

Martha wondered why the Doctor stressed Alan's rank. The soldiers slowly lowered their rifles. What's going on?

"Are you the same Alan Kelly who served at Salamanca?"

"Yes."

"An honour to meet you, sir," the captain said as he saluted.

Alan returned the salute and Martha could see the officer he truly was.

"If I may ask, sir, what are you doing here?" He didn't say it but Martha had a feeling he was thinking and with such people.

"A special mission. There is a third party operating in this city taking both British and Americans alike. Maj. Sullivan's reconnaissance patrol was taken just last night."

Perfect. State one of their own was taken.

"We will help you scour this city," declared the sergeant who sounded Welsh.

"We know where they are hiding but you can help us by covering the avenues of escape." Alan looked to the Doctor who listed the spots that needed watching. "Remember, some of these captives are civilian so only fire warning shots unless challenged."

"How will we know the kidnappers?"

"Believe me, you'll know," Martha muttered.

"A description wouldn't do them justice, captain," Alan answered. "Let's just say they stand apart."

"Very well, sir." The captain divided his men into four sections and assigned them a location. The captain and one other soldier stayed with them as they headed to the Capitol.

Martha fell into step with the Doctor. "How did you know that would happen?"

"Something one of Sullivan's men said. I hoped it wasn't an exaggeration." He watched as Alan walked in sync with the two soldiers. "It must've been something amazing."

"Oh, it was." She could feel the Doctor's eyes on her as she kept walking. "Sullivan told me all about it."

"Why, Martha Jones." He leaned closer. "Tell me everything."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan had Capt. Nelson and Private Marris wait outside.

"Just the one door? How do we know this is the one they'll use?" asked Nelson.

"It's the closest." He made to follow the Doctor and Martha but the two soldiers wouldn't let him leave without a salute. Once inside, he caught the Time Lord and his companion smiling. "Don't. Just don't."

Since Martha had been more aware of their surroundings, she gave the directions to the entrance of the tunnels as the Doctor took the lead. Once the floor evened out, they knew they had reached their destination.

The Doctor started across a junction and immediately pulled back. "Sentries."

"I'll lure them away," Alan decided.

"And what will you do against them? You're unarmed."

Alan patted his jacket pocket. "I found your secret stash, Doctor."

"You know I can't--" he started, getting all Time-Lordy.

"Stun gun. Give me some credit."

"Good luck," Martha whispered.

Alan crossed the junction, making sure the two sentries saw him. He slowed so they could follow and led them away from the Doctor and Martha. He spotted another junction, veered off, and pressed himself against the wall. When the guards lumbered by, he used the stun gun. He then dragged them into the junction, nearly putting out his back as he did so.

Recalling Martha's directions, Alan made his way to the cavern where the captives were kept. Two more guards hit the floor. I could get used to this. He waved his hand in front of the sensor and the door slid open. "Is this a private party or can anyone crash?"

Blinking at the light, the rescued headed for the door as fast as their tired and worn bodies would allow. "Thank you," they said as they passed him on the way out.

"Stay quiet and keep heading up. There will be soldiers waiting for you."

The line of people moved quietly and quickly out the door and, as the room thinned, he could see Sullivan at the opposite side helping those who were worse off and couldn't move well on their own.

"What are you doing here?" Sullivan asked.

"You didn't think I'd leave, did you? The plan was that whoever got out would come back for the others." Alan looked about and saw that it was mainly soldiers left. "C'mon, all the civilians are taken care of. I don't know how much longer we have until the Ursals catch on."

There was a shout from the doorway as four Ursals blocked the escape. "You were saying?"

Alan turned, brought up the stun gun, and fired at the two advancing creatures. Nothing happened. "Of course you die when I need you." He threw the useless weapon down.

Sullivan stood beside him. "We have no weapons against them so what now?"

"We try to bluff them?"

"You are a recognized troubling presence," one of the Ursal soldiers declared.

"But you need all the labourers you can get."

"The two of you are a disturbing influence. We are no longer required to keep you alive."

"Not even for questioning?" Alan tried to stall until he could come up with something better. "I might know some stuff you don't."

The soldier hesitated just a bit. "We have been ordered to eliminate all threats."

"How are we a threat?" asked Sullivan. "We have no weapons."

"They're just soldiers," Alan answered. "They can't make their own decisions. They--"

The second Ursal backhanded Alan, sending him flying into the cavern wall.

Alan heard his left shoulder pop and knew his arm would be useless. "This is going to be tougher than I thought," he murmured. Under his right hand he felt a decent-sized rock. Gripping it tight, he pressed against the wall and worked his way up. He chuckled. "I had heard Ursals were merely thugs. Now I know it to be true."

"Who here would know of us?" The first Ursal came and stood before Alan, looking him in the face. "We have ensured that none above have seen us."

Alan smirked. "As I said before, I know things. Like I know your current position is a little rocky." He brought up his right hand and smashed the rock against the Ursal's head.

The Ursal staggered back but didn't fall. He gripped Alan's wrist causing him to drop the rock. "Take them all to Control," he growled to the others. "My superiors enjoy taking puzzles apart."

"Let's just hope they're not the kind to throw them out if they can't put it back together," Alan joked as he was tugged along after the others.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Alan had drawn off the sentries, the Doctor approached the doors. "Refuse to be awed of intimidated," he told Martha. "Act like you've see it all before and they won't know what to do."

He waved his hand in front of the sensor panel and the door slid open with a hiss. The array of machines inside was quite impressive-for a less tech-savvy race like the Ursals. Not that he was going to tell them that. "Hello!" he greeted brightly.

The three Ursals in the room turned almost as one. "Intruder in Control," declared the one on the left.

"Oh, you're good," the Doctor said. "Very observant. What was your first clue?" He wandered about the room, slipping on his glasses to peer at the machinery. "I haven't seen some of this stuff in ages! It should be in a museum."

The Ursal in the centre wore gold braid on his epaulettes, clearly denoting him as the leader. "This is the latest in Ursal technology!" he defended.

The Doctor scoffed. "And decades behind everyone else."

"Doctor," Martha warned as the soldiers went for their weapons.

"Don't worry. If they shoot at me, they risk hitting the machines." He looked back at Golden Braid. "How long have you been coming here? This tunnel system is too extensive and well-established for a one-time deal." He crossed the room and fiddled with another piece of equipment. "Now to see just where you're sending your slaves."

"They are not slaves," Gold Braid bristled. "They are a labour force."

"A labour force you keep locked in the dark and feed barely enough to keep them alive," said Martha. "Sounds like they're slaves to me."

"Ah, the Perseus Cluster. But why would you need to send a 'labour force' there?" He tried to remember what could possibly be of interest in the area. "Grwl Kitur. I can't believe you're after that old chestnut." He turned to Martha. "It's the Ursal equivalent of the Holy Grail. Everyone wants to find it despite no concrete proof of its existence."

"New evidence has come to light--"

"If you had such fabulous evidence, there would be no need to use humans as slaves."

"They are not slaves!" insisted the Ursal on the right.

The outer door opened and a group of American and British soldiers in ragged uniforms entered escorted by three Ursal soldiers. Alan and Sullivan were last followed by a fourth. "The rest of the slaves escaped, Colonel," the last Ursal told Gold Braid.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the use of the word. Gold Braid wouldn't even look in his direction.

"Did I give you enough time, Doctor?" Alan asked, cradling his arm.

"Enough. You okay?"

"Just dislocated. I'm all right for now."

"Here, let me see that." Even in the midst of a standoff, Martha was still a med student.

The Doctor turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Now, as for you, I want you to pack up and leave this planet. And if I hear you've come back, I won't be so lenient."

"Just who are you to make demands of us?"

"Oh, they really shouldn't have asked that," said Martha, fixing Alan's shoulder.

"Me? I'm not one you want to mess with. I've faced down Daleks, Cybermen and Sontarans so your little party here holds no challenge whatsoever. I'd make up your mind quickly. You have, oh, about fifteen minutes." At his words, one of the machines began to beep. He motioned behind his back for the others to move closer to the door.

"What have you done?" Gold Braid demanded as he pushed the Doctor away to gain access to the machines. "Well, stop it!" he ordered his soldiers.

The Ursals guarding the prisoners moved in to assist and the Doctor hustled them out of the room. "I think we'd better hurry."

"What's going to happen in fifteen minutes?" asked Alan as they all headed up towards the surface.

"That equipment will explode sending a massive fireball through these tunnels."

"But what of the city, of everyone above us?" asked Sullivan. "Surely an explosion of that size will kill everyone in the city."

"Ah, but I timed the portal to the Perseus Cluster to open at the same time so the blast will be very minimal."

"All that they will experience is tremors and fires which can be attributed to the war."

"Convenient."

"You like using your enemies own equipment against them, don't you?" asked Martha.

"They're kind enough to provide it, so why not?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They came out into the evening air and ran as far from the building as they could before the lower story was engulfed in flame. The Americans melted away into the streets before they could be taken by the British. "That's gratitude," Martha muttered.

"We did have an unspoken truce of sorts," Sullivan said. "Now with that behind us, things will revert to normal."

"We'd better get on our way," said Alan. "I don't think we'd be able to talk our way out of this."

"You sound like you've done this before." Martha said to him.

"A few times, yeah." He smiled.

"You'd better go back with Marris and his men," the Doctor told Sullivan. "If I were you, I'd keep your mouths shut," he added, including Marris. "No one would believe you."

"They won't be coming back, will they?" Sullivan asked.

"I don't think so. This wasn't an official mission and I doubt they'll want to try again after such a failure."

Sullivan pumped the Doctor's hand. "Thank you for all you've done, Doctor. It scares me to learn that such things exist, but knowing you're there, fighting them, makes it easier. Martha, you are a remarkable woman. I knew there was something different about you the moment you arrived in the cavern." Sullivan turned to Alan. "Is this the reason you saved my life? To let me see what else is out there in the universe?"

"Nah," said Alan. "You were a comrade-in-arms and that's why I did it. Didn't you owe me money at the time?"

Sullivan chuckled. "No, I paid you off the day before." He shook Alan's hand. "I hope we see each other again, Kelly."

"Chances are good, what with the spread of English colonies and the way I travel."

"Farewell then." The British soldiers left to merge with the other troops that had entered the city.

"Should we go check on Dolley and the others?" asked Martha as they wended their way back to the TARDIS. "Make sure they got out okay? Will Lizzie and the others the Ursals had control over be all right?"

"Oh, they'll be fine. Once the Ursals machines went up, those under their control would have returned to normal. As for Dolley, she went back to rescue a portrait of George Washington."

"Really? Who would risk their life for a painting?"

"Obviously Dolley would."

Alan snickered.

Martha tried to keep a straight face. "Are you done with the jokes about Dolley?"

"Pardon?" The Doctor acted innocent.

Alan didn't even bother trying to hide his laugh.

"Out of your system now?"

"Yes, yes, I believe so."

Martha was the first to see the TARDIS. "Now that's a sight for sore eyes." She used her key to open the door.

"I know this is a silly question," Alan started, "but have you got room for one more? My transport was destroyed in the explosion."

"Oh," the Doctor patted his pockets. "You mean this?" He pulled out the machine in question and let it dangle from his fingers.

"Oh, thank God." Alan took the machine. "I do not want to think of what they'd do if I came back without it." He strapped it to his wrist.

"Probably wonder how you got back in the first place," Martha said with a smile.

"You're still welcome to come along for a ride. You need to rest that thing. You don't want it to conk out on you."

"I want you to know it only messed up once." He entered the TARDIS past a whistling Doctor. "I am not going to sing!" his voice echoed back.

"Hmph. Most artists will sing at the drop of a hat," the Doctor said. "What's with the singing?" Martha wanted to know.

"Alan was in a rock band in the 60s," the Doctor informed her. "Just one song!" he asked of Alan as he went inside.

"No!"

Martha entered the TARDIS with a smile. This was going to be an interesting trip.

>Side-Step

Prospect and Convenience (1/2)

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 14:21:10 GMT

Title: Prospect and Convenience
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: Doctor Who/TOC Files
Characters: Ten, Martha, OC
Word Count: 14,562
Rating: G (I believe)
Summary: The Doctor and Martha arrive in Washington DC with plans to attend a social gala, however they soon learn that there is a war going on. However, that's not the only problem. People have gone missing and there have been sightings of mysterious creatures.
Notes: This is the sixth installment in my planned series to have Alan Kelly meet all of the Doctor's incarnations. Thanks to an earlier poll, I have a few ideas brewing for later stories. Thanks to fourzoas for being my beta and making sense of my disjointed scribblings.
Disclaimer The Doctor, Martha and the TARDIS belong to the BBC. Alan Kelly is mine.

Prospect and Convenience

"Attention has been paid to the passing of those leading avenues over the most favorable ground for prospect and convenience."
Pierre Charles L'Enfant in a report to George Washington regarding the planning of Washington DC, 1791

Martha searched through the TARDIS wardrobe in an attempt to find the proper dress for the next stop. What made it tough was that the Doctor wouldn't tell her where and when, just "Think Jane Austen". To Martha's mind, that meant Regency. She smiled at the chance to wear period dress that wasn't a maid's uniform. Maybe they would get to rub shoulders with lords and ladies, even meet Prinny himself... There, that one would do fine. She changed quickly, thankful that is was simple enough that she could do it unassisted.

She hurried back to the console room where the Doctor was puttering while he waited. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his brown suit. He turned and grinned when he saw her. It was nice to see that smile again. It had been rare since Farringham. "Well, where are we?"

"We are here to relax, to cheer ourselves up. I know this woman-well, I know of her-and she throws the most brilliant parties." He bounded to the TARDIS door and pulled it open. "Welcome to Washington DC, 1814."

Martha stepped out into the bright sun and blinked as her eyes adjusted. The city looked nothing like what she was used to. At least when they had gone to New York there had been some familiar landmarks. "Are you sure?"

"All the monuments won't get started for a few decades. But," he pointed, "over there is the Capitol Building. I know it's not the one you're familiar with but that's when it gets rebuilt after the fire."

"'Think Jane Austen', you said. I was expecting London, Bath or Brighton. You know, maybe even meeting Prinny."

"Been there, done that, got the cape. Well, that was actually from Beau Brummel, but..."

Martha let the Doctor prattle on as they walked, pointing out where buildings would eventually be. This was still a city in the making, which gave her a bit of a thrill.

One thing she noticed about the people in the street: not one of them was black. "Doctor, I'm not gonna be arrested?"

"What? Arrested? Why would you be arrested?"

"Hello? I'm black."

"Right." A far away look shaped his face into a comical caricature, as if he had just forgotten where he had put his keys. A grin lit up that look. "No. You probably won't be arrested--at least for slavery. This is the North, not the Deep South. 'Sides, the way things work, I'll likely be arrested first. In fact, you might be considered...exotic."

"Exotic?"

The Doctor nodded his head. "They'd be all over you. Hello, what's happening over there?"

Martha saw a group of people gathered by a storefront window. She followed the Doctor as he walked over and pretended to study the items on display.

"...another last night," a woman said. "That makes five already this week. We shouldn't have to worry about going out at night."

"Then there are the creatures," said a second woman.

"Creatures?" The first woman looked scared. "What creatures?"

"Esther Polk told me that Prudence Campbell saw a strange creature in her yard late Tuesday night. It was as tall as a man, walked upright, and had a snout. She said she couldn't move for ten minutes after it left."

"If that no-good husband of hers would quit drinking himself into a stupor and mend the fence, then she wouldn't have to worry."

The gossip turned to more mundane things and they continued on. "Interesting," the Doctor mused.

"Oh no. You said we were here for fun, to relax. That means no creatures, alien or otherwise."

"Okay, okay. I won't go looking unless I'm asked."

Martha knew that would be the best she would get from him. She wouldn't push for anything more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Col. Alan Kelly arrived in a narrow alley off a main shopping district. He checked his readings and saw he had about two days here before his mission was over. He'd wander around and get a feel for the place before thinking about getting a room. With the British on the doorstep, he should have his pick.

He strolled along the street, nodding to those he passed. It amused him sometimes how life carried on during a war. Up ahead he could see a small group of women gossiping outside a dry goods store while a couple looked at the items in the window. The couple turned to continue on their way and Alan saw that the woman, dressed in the height of fashion, was black and her hair a bit more modern than the early 19th century style. It was when he caught a glimpse of the man's pinstripe suit and Converse sneakers that he knew there was no one else it could be.

Alan picked up his pace and kept the pair in his sight. They stopped as the woman needed to adjust her shoes. Alan caught them up. "The Doctor, I presume?"

The man turned showing a very boyish face, which looked even younger when he grinned widely. "Alan!" The Doctor gripped his hand and pumped it furiously. He looked at the young woman at his side. "Martha, this is a good friend of mine, Col. Alan Kelly, a fellow time traveller. Alan, this is Martha Jones, my newest friend." His face fell. "Oh, no. I guess our little break is ruined, Martha."

"Break?" Alan wasn't sure if he was hearing right.

"He promised me a gala complete with dancing, ball gowns, good food..."

"And your showing up means something's going to happen."

Alan pulled the two of them aside where they wouldn't be overheard. "This is Washington DC, 22nd August, 1814. In two days' time the British will take the city and burn it. I really don't think you'll find much in the way of galas."

Martha glared at the Doctor. "Another war zone? What is it with you?"

"So you're not here because of the mysterious disappearances?"

"What disappearances?" Alan looked at Martha sympathetically. "I'm guessing your 'break' was ruined the minute he heard about those."

The Doctor continued on. "That doesn't change our destination, though it may change our story a bit."

"What story?" asked Alan as he and Martha fell into step behind the Doctor. "Care to share?"

"Meet the Grand Duchess Martha of Freedonia and her cultural attaché. You can be her ex-military bodyguard."

"A bodyguard with no weapon?" Martha questioned.

"With the city in the midst of a war, carrying a weapon would only get me killed and you involved in an international scandal."

"Ooh, good one," complimented the Doctor.

"Okay, then explain this. If I'm nobility, why am I arriving on foot with only you two?" She smiled, waiting for an answer.

Alan thought for a moment, trying to come up with something plausible for the time. "You wish to walk among the people, something you are denied. Your entourage is small because this isn't a sanctioned visit. Your family doesn't know you're here and this has to remain quiet."

Martha stared. "You honestly just made that up?"

"Yeah. Not bad for on the fly. I'm actually a bit out of practice. Since the TOC went public, we get back stories created for us now."

"Really? That's half the fun, making it up as you go along." The Doctor paused as if getting his bearings. With a chipper "Allons-y!" he changed direction, leaving Martha and Alan to follow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Doctor led them down Pennsylvania Avenue and listened as Martha quizzed Alan on the times they had met. As Alan related each instance, the Doctor's mind conjured up the faces of his companions at the time: Adric, Fitz, Peri, Rose, Jack and Sarah Jane. It was interesting hearing it all from Alan's timeline.

"Where are we going anyway?" Martha asked coming up alongside him.

"Where else would royalty go?"

"You're kidding, right?" Alan was incredulous. "We're going to the White House?"

"Technically, we're going to the Executive Mansion. It doesn't get called the White House until Teddy Roosevelt."

"We're going to see the President of the United States? Oh, my God, this is amazing!"

"I don't think I've ever met a President before. I've met other dignitaries and celebrities but no president."

"Like who?" asked Martha.

"Wyatt Earp."

"Met him," said the Doctor, "and Doc Holiday."

"Shakespeare, Queen Elizabeth," Alan continued.

"Them too," the Doctor commented with a smile.

"Should I even bother?"

"Just making conversation," the Doctor remarked innocently.

"Ignore him," Martha said. "I want to know."

"In that case..." Alan continued to list some of the important people he had met and a bit of the background as to how only if Martha asked. It was a pretty impressive list for someone who had been travelling for a relatively short time.

The Doctor saw the guards at the entrance to the White House grounds. "Okay, curtain up."

The guards came to attention as the Doctor and his two friends approached, "State your business," said one while the other kept his rifle aimed at them.

"We are newly arrived in your city and wish to see your President Madison."

The guard eyed them warily. "That accent. You English?"

"We have all spent time in that country but none of us call it home at present." The Doctor held out the psychic paper for both men to read. "As you can see, this is the Grand Duchess Martha of Freedonia." Martha gave both men a haughty look. "The other gentleman is Col. Alan Kelly, her personal bodyguard." Alan simply glared at the two guards. "I am Dr. John Smith, Cultural Attaché to the Court of Freedonia."

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't be too careful."

"I understand perfectly. It's good to know you're so vigilant."

Both guards stood a little taller. "Thank you, sir. It's usually a thankless job."

"But most important. Keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir."

The second guard lifted the bar that blocked the drive and allowed them to pass.

As they walked up to the house, the Doctor began to whistle. It just seemed appropriate somehow.

"Hey, I know that song. It came out in the 60s, I think. My dad used to play it all the time. I can't remember the words, though."

"Really? I must have heard it on one of my visits." He looked at Alan. "Do you know the words?"

"I am not about to break into song on the White House lawn when I'm supposed to be a bodyguard. Very out of character."

"Quite right," the Doctor agreed. I'll get him to do it later. "We need to make a good first impression."

They arrived at the front door and when the butler opened it, the Doctor made the introductions. The butler showed them to the drawing room while he went to notify the First Lady.

"Oh, my God," Martha said in an awed whisper. "I'm in the White House."

"Remember who you are," the Doctor said. "You were raised in a palace."

"Yeah. Right." She tried to put on a haughty expression but only succeeded in looking like she'd just smelled something horrible.

They didn't have to wait long before Dolley Madison entered. She was of a similar height to Martha with dark hair, sparkling blue eyes and fair skin. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting."

The Doctor made the introductions once again. "It is we who should apologize for not sending word ahead of this visit. As this is not an official visit, we couldn't risk any correspondence falling into the wrong hands."

Dolley looked at Alan. "There is something I must ask you and please don't think me rude. You are a British Army officer?"

"I was. I retired after the defeat of Napoleon. I had a tough time adjusting to civilian life so when a friend told me of this position, I thought why not."

"He did come highly recommended," put in the Doctor.

"So you feel no compunction to pass what you learn here to the British forces?"

"No, ma'am. My loyalty is to Her Highness and her family."

"Well said, Colonel." Dolley looked at Martha. "I'm sorry that I cannot introduce you to Washington society as you deserve, but a large number of residents have already fled the city. My husband and others are in the process of relocating the government to a place of safety. You are most welcome to move with us."

"Your offer is most kind," said Martha.

"However, we don't wish to be a nuisance, an added burden," explained the Doctor. "We will only be here one or two nights at the most."

"You can't mean to travel further under these conditions?"

"It is easy for us as we're only three," said Alan. "Her Highness understands the need for travelling light."

"We are also from a neutral country and can pass with the least amount of fuss," stated Martha.

Dolley wanted to argue further but held her tongue. "Let me have a maid show you to your rooms. You must be tired after your journey."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Martha tried to rest but was too wound up. She wanted to explore but knew that women didn't do such things at this time, let alone royalty. She paced the room, jealous of the Doctor and Alan who had done just that, using the pretence of fetching the baggage.

She looked about and saw nothing that would help her pass the time. The desk, however, might hold possibilities. She arranged her skirts and sat on the chair. She then searched the drawers for paper and a pen. It wasn't until she remembered that they didn't have ballpoint pens that she realized the quill and ink wasn't just for show.

Martha dipped the quill into the ink, making sure to scrape away the excess as she pulled it out. She began to write a letter to her mother. The ink still blotched when she started but she soon learned the trick of it.

In the letter-a letter Francine Jones would never see-Martha explained what really happened at New Hope Hospital that day. She told her of meeting Shakespeare and saving the world; of being trapped in the worst rush hour traffic; of the pig and the showgirl; of being trapped in a ship crashing towards a sun; of the ill-fated romance between John Smith and Joan Redfern; and of being a shop girl in 1969.

She sat back with a sigh, massaging her hand. It certainly felt better getting it all out, even though no one would ever see it.

There was a light knock on the door. "Come in."

A young maid opened the door. "Excuse me, miss, but Mrs. Madison was wondering if you would care to join her for tea. "

It was only then that Martha realized how hungry she was. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you."

"I've brought water for you to freshen up." The maid walked into the room and set the basin on a small table.

"I'm afraid I only have the one gown."

"The two gentlemen went to fetch your luggage. Would you like my help with anything?"

Martha poured the warm water into the basin and washed her face and hands. "Only to find my way," she said, using the towel.

"You're not at all how I thought a princess would be." She immediately put a hand over her mouth, realizing she was being too familiar.

"Don't worry---what's your name?

"Lizzie, miss."

"Don't worry, Lizzie. I'm not as formal as I used to be. My travels have opened my eyes to all that is out there. It makes everything else so small in comparison."

"I'd like to travel one day. I've never been farther than Baltimore." Lizzie gathered herself together, once more the maid. "If you're ready, miss, I'll take you down to tea."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan followed the Doctor through the streets of DC. "So you really came here for a break? You seriously thought you could get away with that?"

"Things have been a bit...rough for me and Martha recently so I thought a good knees-up would help. I sort of miscalculated."

"Miscalculated into a war zone. Sounds usual for you. Martha seems a nice girl. How did you two meet up?"

"Strange happenings at her hospital. She caught on quick without panicking and risked her life to save me."

Alan felt this was an ideal opening to ask about Rose but somehow knew the timing was wrong. The Doctor would just clam up in that way he had no matter what incarnation. Instead, he kept to the reason they were heading for the outskirts of the American capital. "Any ideas what we're looking for? 'Mysterious creature' is a rather vague description."

"Well, I'm hoping it's just men dressed up in costumes to scare the population. That would be so much easier to deal with."

"And if it's not?"

"Then it'll be much more difficult." He stopped suddenly and crouched. "Now that's interesting."

"What did you find?" Alan asked, coming up beside him.

"Tracks from our mysterious creatures." He reached out a hand to touch them. "They seem canine in nature at first glance."

"So we're looking at wild dogs, wolves, something like that?

"Only if they've learned to walk upright."

"Well, that crosses natural occurrence off the list."

"Put yer hands on yer 'ead!" came the order from behind them in a Mancunian accent. "Turn 'round slowly."

Alan and the Doctor complied and Alan saw four armed British soldiers. A raiding and reconnaissance party most like. He looked to the Doctor for a sign as to what approach he wanted. The Doctor shook his head so there was to be no confrontation-yet. These were only infantrymen after all, and probably had itchy trigger fingers. Keep them calm and no one will get hurt.

"I didn't realize we had wandered so far afield, did you?" the Doctor asked Alan. "You see, we were following the Raphus cucullatus. They're very elusive, you see, so we were naturally absorbed in tracking it."

The soldiers just looked at the Doctor, unsure of how to handle his babbling. The corporal simply motioned with his rifle for the two prisoners to fall in behind two soldiers while he and another followed.

Alan knew this would probably be the only time he could confront the Doctor about something that had been bothering since he had talked with Jack in Cardiff. If he didn't say anything now, he might never get another chance. "Does Martha know about Rose?" Alan asked, jumping into the conversation with both feet. "Does she know what happened to her?"

The Doctor looked at him sideways. "You know about Rose?"

"Jack told me of Canary Wharf. He also says you abandoned him."

"Yeah, well. I was about to regenerate so I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

Alan studied the Doctor as best as he could without actually stopping and looking him in the face. He was holding something back. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? You knew about Jack's...condition when you left." The Doctor looked chagrined. "That's why you left him!"

"You don't understand. He's wrong. What happened to him was wrong and never should have happened. Rose-Rose had the power of the Time Vortex running through her. She brought Jack back to life but unknowingly took it one step further. It changed him permanently, re-writing his DNA in some way even I can't grasp. He won't die-ever."

"All I'm saying is Jack needs an explanation. You'll meet up with him sooner or later as he's waiting for you."

"Then when we meet, it will not be by choice."

Alan spared a quick glance at the soldiers before continuing. "Before we close the topic completely, I told Jack there was a chance Rose survived since you were involved." Alan saw the anguish in the Doctor's eyes and almost regretted bringing it up. "If you don't want to talk..."

"No, no, it's all right. It's just--"

"Shut it!" ordered the corporal.

Oh, so close! "We must be nearing the camp," Alan whispered to the Doctor.

A soldier stepped out from the shadows and demanded a password, which was given as "Badajoz". They were then allowed to pass into the camp proper that was small, maybe fifteen men. Certainly not the main force, that was for sure.

Their escort led them to a tent near the centre of the camp. "Sir, permission to enter," requested the corporal.

"Come in, Butler," answered a tired voice.

Butler pushed aside the tent flap and entered. "We found these two at the spot where Evans and his men were taken," he said as Alan and the Doctor were pushed inside.

Alan saw a tired man in the green jacket of a rifleman's uniform. From his understanding, this was just the sort of thing they'd do, similar to Rangers.

"And just what were these two doing that you felt the need to reveal our presence? Chasing after a stray sheep, perhaps?"

"No, sir, Maj. Sullivan, but--"

"Well, as they're here now we'll-Good Lord! Kelly, is that you?" He moved past Butler to face Alan. "It is you!" He gripped Alan's hand in a firm shake. "Why didn't you say anything, man?"

Because I don't know who the hell you are! Alan thought. The officer, Sullivan, obviously knew him so that could only mean somewhere in Alan's own personal future, he'd meet the man in the past. Alan looked over at the Doctor who offered nothing more than a crooked smile. OK, think of something general. "I don't pull rank anymore as I'm no longer on the army. Even if I had, what were the odds that someone would know me?"

Sullivan chuckled. "You always were a modest one."

Alan heard the Doctor scoff.

Sullivan continued after raising an eyebrow in the Doctor's direction. "All of my men know the story of how you saved my life at Salamanca. Hell, they probably know it by heart."

"I believe most of His Majesty's Army does, sir," put in Butler, his voice now tinged with awe.

"So, what is a hero of the Peninsula doing here?" questioned Sullivan. "Especially one no longer in the army."

Alan looked to the Doctor hoping the man would come up with something to distract them.

"Yes, hello, I'm the Doctor." He gave a little wave. "The colonel and I were investigating some disappearances and strange sightings reported in the city. We had just uncovered some interesting tracks when your men found us."

"'Colonel'?" Sullivan looked at him. "Someone else got a promotion."

"It's a long story," Alan said, not wanting to get into it.

"He's now a royal bodyguard. The promotion came with it." The Doctor grinned.

"Not so long after all."

"Royal bodyguard, eh? Sounds an easy job. Any extra perks?"

Alan held his fists at his sides. "Please tell me that's a poor attempt at army humour. If not, I might need to call you out. And, having saved your life, I really don't look forward to taking it."

Sullivan paled. "There's no call for that. It was uncalled for. One tends to forget the social niceties away from London."

"If you're done with the posturing, we've something more important to discuss." The Doctor looked at the both of them.

"Right," Alan agreed. "Go on."

"Now, Major, your man Butler said he found us at a site where some of your men disappeared, right? And of course you believe the Americans are behind it. Now, the Americans are also experiencing people disappearing and they blame you. This leads me to believe there is a third party taking advantage of the situation."

"The animosity built up from each side blaming the other would extend the war, bringing more soldiers into the area, more people to go missing." Alan considered the implications. "It's a nice little scheme."

"But I don't think that prolonging the war is their main goal. They're taking people and there has to be a reason for it." The Doctor began to pace. "Now, according to my source, both men and women are being taken of varying ages and class."

"An equal opportunity abductor," commented Alan. "No discrimination."

The Doctor ruffled his hair, making it stick out at all angles. "The ages are from teenagers through mid-forties which is considered prime of life, right? To my mind, that means they want workers, labourers."

Sullivan was incredulous. "You two are completely mad! Why would anyone need to abduct workers? They could easily buy them in the southern slave markets."

"That's assuming they had a choice," said the Doctor.

"Stranded?" Alan questioned. "That could make them desperate."

Sullivan shook his head and looked at Alan. "This new job of yours, are you in the sun?"

"You haven't even heard the strange part." Alan looked to the Doctor. "Should I?"

"You know him," the Doctor replied with a shrug.

Alan exhaled. "If I explain it to you, you'd say I was insane and have me locked away. The threat itself is real. People are disappearing, possibly dying, and you can help us try to end it."

There was silence in the tent as Alan and the Doctor waited for Sullivan to answer. They definitely needed the soldiers' help because he and the Doctor couldn't do it alone. There was just too much ground to cover.

"You earned my respect at Salamanca. You kept your head in all that confusion and I don't believe a madman would have. If I can help prevent any more abductions, I will help you."

"Good man!" Alan clapped him on the shoulder. This might work after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Doctor walked back to the city on automatic pilot as he went through his metal catalogue of aliens in an attempt to discover what they were up against. He didn't have enough information, however, to narrow it down enough to his liking. This excursion tonight should give him what he needed.

He only became aware of his surroundings after being poked by Alan. "We need your key."

It was then he saw the TARDIS. "How did you-Right. Forget I asked." He pulled the key out from his pocket and unlocked the door. "You couldn't have opened it yourself?" The TARDIS glowed a little brighter as they entered and the Doctor knew it wasn't for him.

Alan chuckled. "I probably could have asked politely for her to let us in, but as you were here..."

The Doctor went to the console and began to search for traces of alien technology, hoping to narrow down the field. Nothing came up. Must be shielded. Knew it couldn't be that easy, thought the Doctor. He groaned in frustration. Searching the TARDIS memory banks would take too long and waste valuable time. He'd like to have some idea of what he was up against.

He looked up to see Alan dragging a large brass-bound trunk behind him. "What's that for?"

"You really are preoccupied." He set down the trunk and straightened. "We said we were getting clothes so I thought it might be an idea if we actually showed up with some."

"We are not lugging that thing across town."

"We don't have to."

The Doctor grinned. He had forgotten. Alan's machine could handle the "small jumps" that were a bit harder for the TARDIS. "Brilliant!" He bounded over and lifted his side of the trunk. "See if you can get us near the sentry. I need to talk to him."

Alan looked at him questioningly before nodding as he realized what the Doctor wanted.

The Doctor watched in fascination as Alan keyed in the coordinates. For some reason he couldn't explain, it still amazed him that something so small, something worn on the wrist like a watch, could do the same thing as the TARDIS with nary a sign. Nary. I should use that word more often. Nary, nary, nary.

With a small poof of displaced air, they arrived a little ways outside the White House gates unnoticed by anyone. I really should try to examine that machine, find out why the Time Lords didn't stop it, the Doctor thought. "All right, let's drag this up to the gate. I need to talk to our friend the sentry."

They walked up the path and were recognized by the sentry. "Oh, it's you." He saw the trunk. "You didn't carry that all the way across town, did you?"

"Not all the way, no," said Alan.

"We did get a lift for most of it," explained the Doctor. "It's more awkward than heavy."

"I could probably get you a wheelbarrow or cart for the rest of the way."

"I think we can manage. There is one thing you might be able to assist me with. The colonel and I are intrigued by these mysterious creatures and disappearances everyone is talking about."

"I don't think there are creatures," the soldier said. "It's those damn Redcoats dressing up and taking people."

"The British Army does not resort to kidnapping enemy civilians in a time of war," Alan stated.

"You have been away for a long time, haven't you?" responded the soldier. "The Brits have been boarding American ships and taking sailors to work in their navy."

"That's the Navy, not the Army," the Doctor heard Alan mutter under his breath.

"Yes, well, no matter who's behind it, we still want to find out what's going on and we could use your help," the Doctor said placating.

"Yeah? Doin' what?" The soldier was curious.

"We need to watch some of the outlying areas to see if they attack again. We were hoping that perhaps you and some of your fellow soldiers might care to assist us."

"I might be able to round up a few mates. What time?"

Good question, the Doctor thought as he looked at Alan who shrugged. "Say, 10:00 right here? If there's any change, we'll contact you."

"Yes, sir." The man saluted.

"One more thing: I don't do salutes and don't call me 'sir', soldier."

"That's two more things," said Alan.

"Jack. If I can't call you 'sir', you might as well know my first name."

The Doctor wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something or if it was just playing a prank. "And a fine name it is." He bent down to lift his side of the trunk. "C'mon, Alan. We mustn't keep Her Highness waiting."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Martha was sitting in a very uncomfortable chair attempting to read a book when she heard the Doctor's voice. Her first inclination was to go out there and give them both a piece of her mind. They'd been gone hours! How long did it take to go to the TARDIS and get clothes? Yeah, they were taking advantage of the time to go explore, but they could have at least done it within the time constraints of their cover story. The fact that Dolley was sitting at her desk working on correspondence was the main thing that kept her still. She returned to her book.

She heard him cough but pretended she didn't. After a few moments he coughed again and she made a great show of marking her place before closing the book.

He gave a small bow. "Your Highness."

"Doctor. Please tell me you did not stop at a tavern during your trip."

"Heavens no!" The Doctor truly looked offended.

"We heard stories of strange occurrences, Your Highness, and he felt the need to investigate," said Alan.

"And you could not dissuade him?"

"As Your Highness is well aware, he is most...tenacious when he is following such a course. I did accompany him to extract him from any misfortune he might have encountered."

"And did you encounter anything?"

"Nothing of note, Your Highness," the Doctor answered.

"You were looking into the disappearances?" enquired Dolley as she put down her pen and faced them.

"I can't resist a puzzle," the Doctor said with a smile. "Sometimes they get me in trouble."

Sometimes? Martha suppressed a smile.

"We have heard of them as well but unfortunately my husband has neither the time nor the manpower to spare for a proper investigation. Perhaps I could speak with him to allow you to follow any line of inquiry."

Martha couldn't believe it. Someone was actually giving the Doctor permission to do something he'd do anyway. Maybe having official status would keep them from getting in trouble with the law. After all, who was higher than the President?

"But we're leaving tomorrow," the Doctor refused half-heartedly. "I don't think I'd be able to resolve this in such a short time."

"Then you'll just need to stay longer."

The three of them looked to Martha waiting for her response. "I believe we can do that. We have no set plans. If need be, I can always go with the Madisons should the British come too close."

"Of course you can." Dolley rose. "I'll go speak with James. Do excuse me."

After she had gone, Alan closed the door.

"Where did you go? C'mon, you must've found something to be gone that long!" The two men looked at each other. "You can't deny it. You just told the First Lady that you 'felt the need to investigate'. I can't believe someone is actually going to give you permission to do that."

"I know! It's weird!"

"So what did you find?"

"We found some tracks right before we were caught by some British soldiers," Alan clarified.

"The good colonel found a new old friend." The Doctor grinned.

"For Major Sullivan, I was an old friend, having saved his life. For me--"

"You haven't even met yet." Martha nodded at the Doctor. "Happens to him quite a lot."

"I know. I've done it to him myself. Anyway, we've lined up Sullivan and his men to help us as well as Jack-the sentry at the gate. He said he'd round up some mates to help."

Martha laughed. "You're getting help from both sides? What are you going to say when they see each other?"

"Hopefully they won't," the Doctor answered. "Alan will meet up with Sullivan and I'll be with the Americans."

"What about me? What side do I go with?" The two men exchanged glances. "Oh, no you don't! I am not going to spend another moment here twiddling my thumbs while you two go off chasing aliens!"

"We don't know they're aliens. We only suspect it," said Alan.

"Though it is highly probable."

There was a knock on the door before Dolley entered.

"False-bottom trunk," Alan whispered to her before resuming his position as bodyguard.

What does that mean?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan was patrolling with Sullivan along a quiet residential street while his men-also in pairs-patrolled other sectors close by. He wished he had gotten a closer look at the tracks so he would have some idea if they were close or not.

He took a swig of water from his canteen and caught Sullivan looking at him strangely. "What?" He automatically went to wipe dribble off his chin.

"You really believe all this about aliens?"

"It really isn't that far-fetched."

"Strange creatures from other worlds aren't far-fetched? Please, I'm trying very hard with this."

"OK, think of the sky, the stars, as a vast ocean and the Earth as one little island. These creatures have crashed and need help to get back home. Now, this island has had very little contact with the outside world so, to the survivors, the people are nothing more than primitive beasts to do with what they will."

Alan watched as Sullivan processed his little analogy. Now, if the man were as perceptive as Alan guessed him to be, the next question would be-

"Are you one of them? An alien who thinks of us as primitive beasts?"

Alan couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm human. I'm just from a time when interaction with aliens and other worlds is commonplace." By the look on Sullivan's face, Alan wondered if he'd gone too far.

"So, you're from the future. You'd have to be for it to be commonplace."

Alan didn't have a chance to confirm as shots rang out from one of the other sectors. "We're in luck. Let's go!"

They raced towards the gunfire and Alan couldn't make out the attackers; they were nothing more than vague, moving shadows. He reached into his pocket and activated the beacon that would alert the Doctor they were under attack and give him their location. He made to join the fray but was attacked from behind and knocked out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Doctor and Alan had found Jack waiting for them at the gate along with half a dozen soldiers. The men were none too pleased when they learned the one in charge of the mission wasn't even American and a civilian to boot.

The Doctor had reached into his jacket pocket for the familiar worn leather wallet that contained his psychic paper. His fingers brushed over a sheet of thick-stock paper. Right. Forgot about that. He pulled out the letter from President Madison authorizing him to commandeer what he saw fit to help with his investigation. "This should put all your doubts to rest."

Jack had taken the letter and studied it thoughtfully-or he was just a slow reader. "You've got permission from the President himself." He handed the letter back. "What's the plan then?"

The Doctor had explained. "The colonel will meet up with another group near Foggy Bottom while we head towards Southwest Waterfront." He had then reached into another pocket and pulled out a transmitter and tossed it at the other time traveller. "When you see something, start that and we'll come running."

Now, hours later, he crouched behind some bushes waiting on some aliens who might appear. Why did he always let himself get sucked into these situations? Well, at least it's not--No, don't say it! He looked up at the sky, thankful to see stars and a half moon. Nary a cloud in sight, he thought with a smile.

Sightings only happen at night yet there have been people who have gone missing during the day. If the creatures are nocturnal, they must have someone-or someones-doing their dirty work during the day, their own Renfield keeping them apprised of what happens during daylight hours. The question is how? Are they being promised rewards or are they being controlled? He sighed. I really need someone to bounce ideas off of. A fresh perspective to keep me from becoming my own yes-man.

There was a slight rustling behind him and the Doctor turned to see Jack just as he crouched down. "It's been hours, Doctor. They're not coming here tonight. The boys want to head back to the barracks."

"What about you? What do you want to do?"

"I was thinking we could go check out one of those other places. The colonel might need some more help."

At that moment, the receiver in the Doctor's pocket began to beep. Alan had activated the transmitter. "Seems you have the right idea." The Doctor stood and swung himself into the saddle. The horse neighed in protest at the interruption of his meal.

"You can't go off alone!" Jack cried out. "Wait for the rest of us!"

"No time! Head east!" The Doctor spurred his horse into a gallop and rode like he was at Aintree. He knew Alan would be able to escape easily but he also knew that Alan wouldn't do so leaving others behind.

He heard hoof beats coming up behind him and knew it was Jack. He looked at the receiver and saw Alan was now on the move, heading back towards the city. The Doctor made sure Jack was in sight before he turned off the main road. It wouldn't do to have someone wandering these woods.

Then the signal stopped. The device wasn't faulty as it was practically new. The fault had to be on the other end. The transmitter had either been discovered and destroyed or they were somewhere that blocked the signal.

He slowed his horse to a halt and patted its sweaty neck. "Good boy." He straightened when Jack approached. "I lost the signal."

"I don't know how that doohickey works, Doctor, but are you sure it's working right?"

"Well, sure enough to know the signal was coming from this direction, from Washington itself."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After the Doctor and Alan left, Martha tried to keep her mind off what they were doing. She even contemplated starting a needlework sampler. Instead, she settled on reading Moll Flanders.

By the time she retired upstairs, she was full of pent-up energy. She had never felt so useless since travelling with the Doctor. At least as a maid she had some freedom of movement. On their next trip it would serve him right if he was the one locked up and she got to do all the action.

There was a knock on the door and Lizzie entered with fresh water. "I'm here to help you change, miss," she delivered in a near monotone.

"Thank you, Lizzie."

The girl efficiently undid the buttons and stays before helping Martha with her nightdress. She didn't say a word the whole time, which was very unlike the girl of the afternoon. Martha was torn between her need for Lizzie to leave and her concern for the maid's change in demeanour.

"Lizzie, is anything the matter?" Martha asked as she watched Lizzie turn down the bed.

"No, miss." There was a pause as if she was deciding what to say. "I overstepped my place this afternoon. I was too familiar. It will not happen again." She spoke it like a lesson learned, no emotion. "Will that be all, miss?"

"Yes, of course," Martha answered absently. She sat on the edge of the bed. She heard the door close behind Lizzie. That was not a simple apology. Being with the Doctor has taught me that not everything is what it seems. She spoke like she was under the influence of something-or someone. I have to tell the Doctor as soon as I see him.

Her eye fell on the trunk in the corner. "False bottom," she whispered. She walked over and knelt beside the trunk. She opened the lid and was gently assailed by the scent of cedar mixed with lavender. She saw at the bottom some sachets as well as plain paper used to separate the clothes. She smiled at Alan's hidden talents. Martha began to look for an edge in order to lift the bottom. She was able to press down in one corner that easily lifted the other side. Underneath, she found a pair of black jeans, black trainers, a long-sleeve navy cotton t-shirt, and a navy hoodie. He had even included undergarments. "Colonel Alan Kelly, you are a marvel."

Martha changed quickly and was surprised once again when everything fit. That man is getting a great big hug when I see him!

She waited close to two hours and listened as the house settled for the night. When she felt that it was safe enough to get about without being seen, she left her room and headed for the kitchen figuring it would be easier to get out through the servants' entrance than the front door. She found the servants' stairs at the opposite end of the hall and used the torch to navigate the narrow decline. How do they manage with their hands full?

At the base she could see a flickering light coming from the kitchen. Hoping someone just left an oil lamp burning, Martha crept closer and peered into the cavernous room. It was empty. No, wait. Something moved in the far corner. As her eyes adjusted she could see it was Lizzie entering the larder. If I time it right, I can be out the door before she sees me. Martha eased across the room and, as she passed, she peered into the larder and saw it was empty. Where could she have gone?

She couldn't help but think 'What would the Doctor do?' and entered the larder. There simply had to be another way out. She noticed a gap between the shelves and gave the wall a closer examination. There was a crack, like a door halfway open. She pried it open and discovered steps leading down into a stone tunnel. "Secret passage, I should have guessed. This has to be where Lizzie went, but why? I guess the only way to find out is to follow."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alan came to and found himself in a reclined position, most likely in a cave judging by the stone at his back and the dirt under him. That was all he had to go by, as there was no light at all. His captors must be assured there was no way to escape or he would have been restrained somehow. However, there was some sort of collar about his neck. OK, really don't want to do this. He gingerly reached up to explore and the moment his fingers touched the metal, a jolt of energy surged through his body and he jerk and let out a scream.

"Kelly! Are you all right?" It was Sullivan.

"Yeah, just feeling a bit stupid. I should've expecting something like that. How long have I been out?"

"I'm not sure, maybe an hour. You were singled out by these...things. They put that collar on you before they threw you in here with the rest of us. You're also the only one of the captives here with one. Why is that?"

They must have recognized the advanced technology of the transmitter and my machine. "They must just think me a ringleader, a troublemaker. Probably if I go past a certain point, this will kill me with a charge."

"But why just you? Surely keeping us all in line like that would be more efficient."

Alan had his suspicions. "I really don't know," Alan lied. He picked up a pebble, held it in his hand and tried to use telekinesis. Nothing. That was the main reason for the collar. "Do you know why we've all been taken?"

"The Doctor was right," said Sullivan. "Slave labour. No one seems to recognize where, however. From what they've described..."

"Yes?" Alan prompted.

"It sounds like another planet."

To Part Two

The Eagle Chronicles 32: Spandau Secret

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 23:48:29 GMT

Title: Spandau Secret
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 5754
Summary Steven is in Berlin once more and his past catches up with him.
Notes: The majority of this series was written over 20 years ago and I like to think that my style has improved since then. I've been told that I should probably edit them before I post like this but I can't edit myself. To me it looks fine. If you see a section that needs work, please tell me!

32. Spandau Secret

March 1965

"So you finally decided to do it."

"Glad you could join us, old boy."

"The House hasn't been the same without you."

"And never will be again, now that Edinburgh has given in to his sister's wrath."

The members of the House of Lords were preparing to enter Parliament and Lord James Stuart, duke of Edinburgh, was finally attending after hearing a long argument on the subject by his sister, Queen Anne II. The reason he had avoided it for so long was because he hated all the hollow pomp and pageantry. Besides, the robe always got in the way and the wig itched.

A page stood patiently, waiting for him. "A telegram for you, your Grace."

"Oh. You go ahead," he told the others. "I'll be right there." He opened the telegram and read:

Resident of Spandau requests an audience with Steven Taylor in regards to A.H. . Two tickets will be waiting at the airport.

It was signed by the head of the British detachment guarding the prison. James Stuart, a.k.a. Steven Taylor, rushed out of the dressing room and jumped into his convertible. He drove home, his red robe billowing out behind him.

He reached his townhouse in St. James Square and bounded up the front steps. "Alison!" he called upon opening the door. "Pack your bags, we're off to Germany!"

Lady Alison Stuart came down the main staircase. "Germany?" She kissed her husband. "Why Germany?"

"I have received an urgent request to visit Spandau Prison."

Alison noticed he was still wearing his Parliamentary robe and that the wig was lying on the table. "You just had to leave Parliament, didn't you?"

Steven smiled. "I didn't want to cause an international incident. They've waited this long for me to show up, what will this time matter?"

"What's your sister going to say?"

"I'm older than she is," he said with a mocking pout.

"But she is your queen."

Steven put his arm about her. "I know my sister. She'll yell a bit, throw a royal tantrum, maybe a conniption fit for fun, but she'll get over it." He laughed. "We'd better pack. Our tickets are waiting."

*****************************************************

They arrived in West Berlin and were taken by limousine to the Hotel Kempinski on the Kurfustendam . A bouquet of flowers was waiting for Alison, an invitation to dine that night at the British Consulate propped against it. "Well, luv, I think we're going to find out about the reason behind my quick summons," Steven remarked, flopping into a comfortable easy chair.

"These flowers smell absolutely lovely," said Alison, sniffing the bouquet. "There's a note here for you." She pulled the paper off its holder and handed it to him.

Steven read the note hastily then crumpled it and threw it into the wastebasket. "Just a little welcome note. How about a walk? My legs are stiff after the plane."

She recognized the change in the tone of his voice. Something was wrong. "Sure. Why don't you change into something better suited for walking. I'll just admire the view." When her husband went into the other room, Alison took the note out of the wastebasket and read it. It was a threat on his life! She heard his footsteps so she threw the note away and went onto the balcony.

Steven came out and put his arms about her. "See anywhere you want to go?"

"What about that?" She pointed to the top of a stone battlement with an East German flag flying from a mast.

"That's the reason we're here. We can go there if you want."

Alison agreed and they left the hotel and walked through the city. "Did you ever meet him when you were in Berlin during the war?"

"No. He had already been captured in Scotland with a broken leg. He was only referred to in conversation. Some of the higher ranks said that Hitler knew of the trip while others said Hess did it all on his own." He took her hand as they strolled through the city. "Are you ever curious about my 'shadowy past'? Things you want to know about?" he asked her out of the blue.

"Maybe a few things. I might want to write a biography."

"It probably would be better than those paperbacks!" he laughed. They reached the prison grounds and sat on one of the benches along the perimeter. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Can you tell me about one of your missions for Germany?"

Steven was quiet for a moment, trying to think of a good story. "In August 1943, I was sent to Moscow. I don't remember what I was sent to pick up, but, in the process of escaping, I ended up in Lubyanka Prison. As I was hiding from the KGB, I found myself in the company of an older man. Since we had time to kill, I told him of my situation. He agreed that spying is a dangerous profession because he had been one in the last war. It then dawned on me that I was speaking to Sidney Reilly. He was probably one of --if not the--greatest spies in history. I asked him to write a note for the British government stating something that only he and a few others knew about, and, at the soonest available moment, I'd send it to England. Hopefully his release then wouldn't be too far away." He stopped.

"Well, what happened?"

"I heard the KGB coming, took Sidney's note, and ran. When I was 'safe' in German territory, I learned that I had lost the note. The Russians never realized that and the British didn't believe me. To this day, the Russians want me because of what I found out." Alison said nothing. "You wanted to know."

"Don't you feel nervous behind the Iron Curtain?"

He smiled. "The risk adds to the challenge."

*******************************************************

That evening Steven and Alison dined at the British Consulate. The meal consisted of a blend of traditional German and English food. The conversation was light. The Consul and Steven discussed historical topics of common interest while Alison kept the consul's wife up-to-date with fashion and gossip.

Each was holding his or her glass of after-dinner sherry and sitting comfortable when the Consul finally broached the subject. "What brings you to West Berlin?"

"I had an invitation to visit Spandau."

"Are you here to see Hess? He asked for you?"

"He must have. The telegram really didn't say. You mean to say you knew nothing of this?"

"This is the first I've heard of it. I was notified by the hotel of your impending arrival, but not the reason why.

"Have you any word on how Hess is? I can't even guess why he asked for me."

The Consul shrugged. "No one but Hess would know why. He seems, at times, to be in his own little world. That's why I'm so surprised."

"Well, I'll find out tomorrow. That's when the appointment is." He smiled. Across the room, he gave Alison a covert glance.

She yawned. "I apologize. It must be the jet-lag. Thank you so much for a lovely dinner."

Steven walked to her side. "Maybe that walk wasn't such a good idea."

"Maybe not."

A butler brought her wrap. "Shall I call a taxi?"

"Thank you."

They said good night and stepped outside. The taxi was waiting for them. Steven put his head to the driver's open window and told him they were going to walk instead. They proceeded down the Uhlandstrasse, strolling in quiet until they were close to the hotel. "I'm afraid for you," Alison told him.

Steven stopped walking and looked her in the face. "Why? What's wrong? I'll be okay tomorrow."

"I read that note today, the threat on your life."

"I've had lots of those," he said, trying to shrug it off. "Most of them are cranks."

"Most of them."

"They wouldn't dare try anything. The Consulate knows I'm here and, by now, so does Sarah." he kissed her softly on the cheek. "Everything will turn out fine. It always does."

****************************************

The next morning Steven was ready for his interview with the former confidante of Hitler. Alison was still nervous. "After meeting Hitler and surviving the cellars of Prinz Albrechtstrasse, this should be easy." He smiled confidently. "I promise you, I'll be fine."

She looked at him. "You will be careful, won't you? I won't feel at ease until you're back here safe and sound."

"As my lady wishes," he said with a courtly bow. He kissed her good-bye and walked out of the suite.

As he strolled down the streets, he tried to think of what it was that Hess wanted to tell him. It could be a myriad of things ranging from the absurd to the credible. The question is, which extreme? He arrived at the prison gates, showed the guard the telegram and his pass. As luck would have it, his appointment had been scheduled during the British shift. The guard saluted and stood at attention once he recognized him.

He was escorted into an office where he had to sign papers and watch them compare his signature against that of his passport. "One last thing, your Grace," said a lieutenant. "He has a tendency to babble. He is just a little bit mad."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Steven walked to the door that marked the entry to Hess's living quarters. The man raised his head and looked at Steven's face with black eyes. They stared at each other for five minutes--the Nazi prisoner and the Allied hero. Hess spoke first. "Sit down, Herr Taylor. No wonder Adolf wanted you. My astrology told me that there was something about you. Now I feel the aura myself."

Steven could understand why they said he was crazy. "But what made you choose me? The first time I saw you was when you were on trial at Nuremberg."

"You, Herr Taylor, are the only one who knew Adolf. When Speer was here, he sang your praises. Said they all believed you were a turncoat. Tell me of the last time you saw Adolf." Hess just seemed to want to talk of old times.

"The last time I saw his was May 1945. I had made my way to the bunker and found him and Eva, both dead. I was the one who burned their bodies--at the expense of my own sight."

"All the while I was wasting away in an Allied prison!" He was disgusted. "We traveled on different paths. Too many lives were at stake. I went to convince the British to surrender before more men died. They captured me and I became a prisoner-of-war. They didn't know what was wrong with what they did. The war could have ended earlier." He stared at the wall just past Steven. "I escaped and was free for thirty days. That's what I want to talk about." Steven tensed and waited for Hess to continue. "It was during this time that I put into action a plan that to bring about the fall of Britain." He turned about and smiled insanely.

"How come nothing has happened yet? Something should have happened by now."

"It was to be financial ruin. It never went past Stage One. I had some authentic pound-note plates and would have flooded the market." Steven motioned to interrupt. "That isn't all. In a safe in Edinburgh are some art treasures thought lost. I give them to you to do with what you will." He gave Steven the address

"But why me? Surely there are others more deserving."

But Hess was lost to the past, to the days of the glorious Third Reich when he figured prominently. Steven tried to get him to talk further, but to no avail. He rose and walked to the door. The British officer let him out. "You were right, lieutenant. He definitely a bit mad." When he's not being cryptic and driving me mad.

He walked out of the prison and into the surrounding park. He found a bench, sat down, and looked at the building To be alone in a fortress like that. He shuddered just thinking of the prisons he had been in and sympathized. He stood and began to walk back to the hotel to ease Alison's mind. Up ahead, he saw a crowd of people arguing heatedly. He reached the area just as the group was breaking up. He was bumped into and carried away. He tried to get himself back on course, but two burly men grabbed him by the arms and forced him into a waiting car. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

"You will find out later." Steven saw a slight shadow across the seat from him. The hand seemed to move and then Steven felt intense pain at the back of his head.

********************************

He woke with a dull throb throughout his head. He sat up on the floor and the room began to spin. He closed his eyes, counted ten, then opened them again. It had stopped. He tried to stand, but wasn't quite ready yet. He looked around the room and it brought back memories of Prinz Albrectstrasse. Maybe Alison's fears weren't unfounded. Must be the Soviets. Makes sense.

The door opened and he saw a figure silhouetted in the open space. "Sorry if you are feeling pain," it said in broken English.

"I get knocked on the head every morning." The sarcasm went unnoticed. "What's going on here?" he asked in Russian

"We cannot let you go back to London knowing what you do."

"Hess said absolutely nothing of importance--"

"We do not care what an insane man said. You escaped Lubyanka after meeting someone."

"If you mean Reilly, no one believed me. You're safe on that account. I did have proof--a letter he wrote--but lost it when I left Moscow. That was over twenty years ago. Why are you doing this now?"

"We dared not risk it before, but now you are on our territory. What did Mr. Reilly say to you?"

"Nothing related to Soviet secrets. Probably what he did know was out-of-date anyway." He stretched. "Can I possibly have something to eat?"

"I shall send something in." The man walked to the door. "We are not done yet, Taylor."

"One thing before you go: is Reilly still alive?"

"You shall see for yourself. Tomorrow you will be on your way to Moscow." He slammed the door.

"Hell!"

*******************************************

Alison tried to read a magazine while she waited for Steven's return. She had just read the same paragraph for the twentieth time. She threw it down on the table and called the front desk. "Has my husband come back yet?"

"Nein. I shall call you once he arrives."

"Thank you." She replaced the receiver. "I knew something would happen. No matter how innocent something starts out, when he becomes involved, things get muddled, complicated, and dangerous." She paced the suite's living room. "I'll go myself and find him. They might know at the prison where he went." She put on her coat and walked out.

She walked up to the front gate of the prison and asked the guard if he had seen her husband. The guard shook his head. "I have just come on duty and he has been gone long," he answered in thick-accented English.

"Where is the guard who was here before? Maybe he knows. I must find him!"

"It is not permitted."

"It's a matter of life or death!"

"I will call my superior." He moved into the guardhouse and Alison watched him talk on the phone and nod. He came out. "You will be escorted to the British officer. Please wait." He opened the gate and let her in.

She thanked him and stood nervously, waiting. A sharp-dressed officer walked towards her. "Lady Stuart? I am here to take you to Lieutenant Anderson. Please follow me." He led her to a small interview room. "The lieutenant will be here in a moment." He shut the door.

After five minutes he hadn't returned and Alison realized that she had been very gullible. I don't believe I was so foolish! How could I have let him put me in here? In trying to help, I've just caused more problems! She banged on the door. "Let me out of here! I am a British citizen and demand to be treated as such!"

The officer heard her and came to the door. "Soon you will be with your husband, and that, I expect, won't be for long. But if you are not quiet, you will never see him again."

*******************************************

Steven knew he could trust the food he was given because they wanted him in Moscow. The water, however, he left alone. He was going to attempt to escape that night. He emptied the water out the barred window and feigned sleep when the guard passed. After he had gone, Steven looked down the hall through the small glass window. All clear. The hall looked like one in a regular office building. He must be in a holding room of sorts. He examined the lock. It would take some time but he could do it. He felt his pockets. Nothing. He checked the lining of his jacket. They hadn't thought of his back-up set.

Early the next morning, before things became busy, Steven began to work on the lock. First, he ran his fingers along the crack between the door and the wall to make sure it was not attached to an alarm. It wasn't. Then he inserted the first pick and turned it counter-clockwise. When that didn't work, he turned it clockwise. He tried a second, larger pick and turned it counter-clockwise. It worked!

He tip-toed down the hall towards the front of the building. He heard men talking and decided to try the back hoping it would be less crowded. From the street behind the building he could see the Wall and, for his purposes, he was on the wrong side. He looked down at himself and decided that he first priority was to get a change of clothes. He walked a few blocks east then cut up to the main road to get his bearings. As soon as he was discovered missing, they would think he would head directly for the Wall. He'd fool them by going in the opposite direction.

As he was about to go into a store off Alexanderplatz, he saw a man in the uniform of the East German army. From the insignia on his shoulder, Steven could tell he was on border patrol. Steven followed, knocked him out, and changed into the uniform. Thus disguised, he headed for the Wall.

Sirens wailed and police cars stopped alongside the Wall. A man who was definitely KGB stepped out of the car. "You there! Have you see a man dressed in an well-tailored but wrinkled suit?" Steven shook his head. "Get into the truck! We must find him!" Steven saluted and jumped into the truck. The convoy then drove along the Wall, eyes combing every inch of the surrounding area. They stopped by Checkpoint Charlie and looked across "no-man's land" to the West. The KGB agent set the soldiers up as a blockade conveniently placing Steven close to the gate. "You are not to let him get past! He is an English spy who speaks fluent German! Be suspicious of everyone!"

At Checkpoint Charlie, the American soldiers watched, on edge. An escape was imminent.

The tension built and Steven patiently waited for what could be the ideal time--or something close to it. The soldiers stood in the still air waiting for this spy, hating him for causing this discomfort. The KGB agent paced the line, wanting to catch the master spy.

Steven thought it was now or never. He took a deep breath, turned to face Checkpoint Charlie, and ran. He took the KGB and the soldiers by surprise. Steven was halfway to the gate when they realized what was happening and began shooting. He ran in a zigzag pattern and was soon out of range. He stopped, took off his helmet, and saluted the KGB agent who was fuming in recognition.

The American soldiers cheered in greeting. Steven immediately took off the uniform jacket and straightened his hair. "Thanks for the encouragement, fellas. Keep up the good work. I'm off to see the wife."

********************************************

Alison slept terribly that night. The cot was hard, the cell was cold, and her thoughts were troubled. They said she was going to see Steven "but not for long". It was obvious that they were going to use her to make him talk before killing them both.

A guard brought her breakfast. "How long will I be kept here? What do they want me for?" He said nothing and shut the door behind him.

At midmorning he came back for the tray. Gunfire could be heard. "What's that?" asked Alison.

"Sounds as if someone is trying to get by the Wall." He smirked. "I doubt they made it."

"What about me? How long am I to be kept here?"

"That is not for me to decide, but you should be finding out soon."

********************************************

The minute the clerk at the desk saw Steven walk into the hotel he rang the Royal Suite, but there was no answer. As Steven passed by, he called out, "Your Grace, your wife has been worried about you. I just rang the suite now and there was no answer. I thought it strange and felt you should know."

Steven's bright mood was immediately dampened. "When did you last hear from her?"

"Yesterday afternoon, sir. I only came in a little while ago."

"Thanks." Steven rushed up the stairs hoping to find a note of some sort. Deep inside he knew she had gone to search for him which meant she went to Spandau and got herself caught by the Soviets. The note just backed his hunch.

He sat on the couch and thought of a plan. The only thing he could come up with was to go there and get her out--a frontal assault. He wrote a note for the Consul in case anything went wrong. He quickly changed, strapping on his knife, planning to grab a bite on the way. He left the note with the front desk clerk to be delivered only if he or Alison did not return. The clerk just nodded blankly, thinking of all the storied he had heard about Steven Taylor.

Steven reached Spandau and walked right up to the front gate. The Soviet soldier prepared to force him away. "Yes. I'm looking for my wife. I have reason to believe she is inside."

"You are mistaken. There are only the soldiers and Hess in here."

Steven spoke to him in Russian. "It appears you don't know who I am. I do not lie about such things. In case you need to be reminded, I was here yesterday to speak with Hess."

The guard was unemotional. "During the British shift. I will check with my superiors." he went into the gatehouse and called the prison office. Steven watched as the guard looked at him before hanging up the phone and coming outside. "You will be met at the entrance."

Steven nodded in thanks and strode purposefully into the prison. He kept walking and passed a myriad of rooms, many of which he didn't want to know about. He also passed the turn-off for Hess's cell. He went deeper into the prison to find Alison. The Soviets wouldn't place her in often-used areas. He heard a set of footsteps coming his way. He hid in a recess and watched as a Soviet officer passed. Steven knocked the man out and put on the uniform. This is getting monotonous. He went into a lit tunnel and followed it to the end. Two guards sat playing a game of chess. They stood and saluted when Steven entered. "I wish to speak with the woman," he demanded in Russian. One guard hurriedly opened the door. "I wish not to be disturbed." Steven walked into the cell and the door was shut behind him. He kept his back to her. "Where is your husband? You must tell me or those men out there will be compelled to hurt you."

Alison looked at his back. "Don't you know? last I heard, he was supposedly on his way to Moscow."

"Oh, I know. My question is do you?" Alison shook her head. "Do you wish me to tell you? Do you want to know where he is?" He was toying with her.

"You devil! Tell me!"

"Right here with you." Steven turned and smiled before placing a finger over his lips to keep her from crying out.

She ran over and hugged him. "Why did you put me through all that?"

"We had an audience." He nodded towards the door. "I'm going to get you out of here and I want you to play along without question." Alison nodded. Steven called the guard. "She is ready to talk. She knows where her husband might be and I want her to witness Soviet efficiency first-hand." The guards saluted and opened the door. Alison resisted and Steven "forced" her out ahead of him.

In the hall, away from the guards, he whispered, "All you have to do is get past the guard at the main gate. The Soviets wouldn't dare do anything then. If I'm not back in two days, I want you to fly back to London."

"But what about you? Shouldn't I do something?"

"If I'm not back, I'm either in Moscow or dead."

They reached one of the main corridors and Steven thought he heard voices. "Go on!" She ran along the hallway past the open door. Steven followed but was seen. Shots were fired and he tried to lead them away from Alison so she could escape. He stopped to catch his breath when he thought he had a moment to spare. He turned to continue but came face-to-face with a Soviet rifle.

Alison reached the outside and slowed before the guard suspected something. She went back to the hotel knowing full well that Steven had some plan up his sleeve. Up in the suite, she stripped out of her dirty clothes and stepped into a warm bath to soak off the grime accumulated in the prison. When she was done, she dressed in casual slacks and blouse before calling room service. She tuned in to the Armed Forces Radio to calm her nerves as she ate. She planned to stay awake in the hopes that Steven would come back, but fell asleep on the couch.

**********************************************

Steven was marched into an office to stand in front of a KGB colonel. "It is no worry to us that your wife is gone. You are the one we want."

Steven shook off the guards' hands, took off the cap and threw it aside. "So, I technically am a spy now, right? After all, I was found in a Soviet uniform, so at least now you'll have a good excuse for killing me."

"We're not going to kill you, at least not yet. We will go through with our original plan and take you to Moscow. Your wife's story would seem somewhat fantastical, don't you think?"

"How would you explain my leaving her, then?"

"You always go away unexpectedly. You see, I have studied your habits."

"That doesn't take into account my thoughts and emotions. I wouldn't leave my wife like that. If you would think back on your research, you would realize that I haven't done so all my married life." The colonel nodded in acceptance of this truth. "Also, however trite this may sound, I have left a note to be delivered to the British Consulate in West Berlin in case I don't return."

"You seem to have come prepared."

"I have been doing this type of thing for quite a few years now. It just comes naturally."

"Take him to a cell and make sure he is guarded closely. The guards are to be careful about what they say," he glanced at Steven, "he knows Russian."

Steven gave a mock salute as he was escorted out of the room. He was led to the same cell where Alison had been held. They definitely had no imagination. He sat on the cot and tried to think of escape plans to pass the time. Under the circumstances, none were feasible.

********************************************************

The day passed with no word from Steven. Alison spent the full twenty-four hours in the suite, barely speaking to anyone. She either stared at the walls, paced the floors, or stood on the balcony and looked out at the prison. That night she fell asleep at 1:00. She awoke red-eyed and took a cold shower. Freshly dressed, she placed a call to the airport and booked a flight back to London for that evening. She then prepared to wait.

*******************************************************

Steven arrived in Red Square the morning after his capture. The KGB seemed to think of his arrest as a feather in their cap. What could be better than catching a man who had been wanted for twenty years? He was taken to Lubyanka and locked in a cell. the thick, steel slammed solidly into place. Nothing short of a miracle would get him out of this.

That evening he was taken to an interrogation room and forced into a chair facing two agents. "Tell us about Reilly."

"I have. He wrote a note for me to deliver to London, but I lost it. I tried to convince them in London that I had seen Reilly, but they didn't believe me."

He was hit on the side of the head. "A poor story. Tell us about Reilly."

Steven stayed with his story and had the bruises to prove it. He knew from all the questioning that Reilly was dead, otherwise they'd be questioning him as well. The days seemed to pass like years through the monotony of questioning and pain that followed. His only consolation was that Alison was safe in London.

*******************************************************

That night at the airport, Alison waited until the last possible moment before she boarded the plane. She took her seat by the window and her eyes searched the tarmac for a sign of her husband. She may have been expecting too much, but Steven was the kind who was bound to his word. Maybe his luck had run out.

When she arrived in London, she went to Buckingham Palace to visit her sister-in-law and told her everything. "That was the last time I saw him. He has to be in Moscow."

Queen Anne II (a.k.a. Sarah Taylor) was angered. "They wouldn't dare do anything to him."

"He was wearing a Russian uniform," Alison said slowly. "They could arrest him as a spy without encountering any legal difficulties, couldn't they?"

Sarah realized this was true. "From what you told me, they took him before he was in uniform." Alison nodded. "There must be some channel we can use." She put her arm about her. "You just go home. Andrew and Jamie are there. I promise I'll keep you posted."

"I guess you're right. He always did come back."

****************************************************

Two months passed and Steven still hadn't returned. The Soviets denied all knowledge of his whereabouts. The note Steven wrote the day he disappeared only related to his conversations with Hess. Sarah placed Steven's friend in the C.I.D., John Dolittle, in charge of retrieving the art treasures and the bank plates.

Alison tried to busy herself about the house. Her son Andrew (from a previous marriage) and Steven's adopted son Jamie tried to make her happy. They took her out shopping, to the theatre, and even dancing. She appreciated what they were doing and it did help, but there was still a hole in her life.

The National Gallery asked her to come to the unveiling of Steven's donation of the rediscovered art treasures. She accepted knowing she would have to fill in at some functions where Steven normally would have gone. She made a short speech and cut the ribbon that held the curtain. The assembled crowd applauded politely and admired the collection. A man sitting in front of the major masterpiece caught her eye. He seemed entranced. She walked over to him. "I see you are a true art lover."

"Oh, yes, very much so. I feel very close to this collection," he said in a gruff voice.

"I'm only sorry my husband isn't here to see them." She sat down on the bench beside him.

"Who said he's not?" The man turned to face her. He was pale, gaunt, and bruised, but she could see it was him.

"Steven!" she cried out. All heads turned.

"So much for surprise." He buried his head in his hands and hid a smile.

Bulbs flashed about him. "Thought you were in Moscow for good!"

"So did they!"

"How did you get away?"

Steven took a deep breath. "It's quite a story. I'll tell the first part as it was told to me. When my sister's official channels failed, she sent an agent to Moscow to get me out. He joined the kitchen staff and one of his duties was to serve the prisoners' food. He put drugs in mine which slowed all bodily functions to the point where it seemed I was dead. When they removed the 'body' to the incinerator, he put me with the garbage and smuggled me out.

"When I woke, I was stiff, hungry, and desperately in need of a shower. I was in worse condition than I am now; thinner, paler, and barely able to walk." He paused for breath. "In Lithuania, I think, I spent time recuperating until I was able to be moved to Primorsk. We went across the ice floes into Finland, then across the border to Sweden, then Holland, then back to England. I arrived at the Palace early this morning and my sister told me of the opening." Alison hugged him.

He then thought of the "Madman of Spandau" who was indirectly the cause of all this. He could still manipulate people's lives even from prison. Looking at the paintings, Steven wished him well.

The Eagle Chronicles 31: Third Time Lucky (2/2)

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 17:12:24 GMT

Title: Third Time Lucky
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 15668
Summary Steven goes to a funeral and rekindles an old relationship.
Notes: The majority of this series was written over 20 years ago and I like to think that my style has improved since then. I've been told that I should probably edit them before I post like this but I can't edit myself. To me it looks fine. If you see a section that needs work, please tell me!

Part One.

************************************************************

Steven turned the idea over in his mind for several days, trying to see it from all angles. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became.

He was walking through St. James Park, still thinking, when he saw a pair of small boys trying to get a kite into the air. They were followed by a dog and several puppies. The boys didn't seem to be having much luck, so he decided to lend a hand. He held the string and told them to hold the kite. He ran, followed by boys and dogs, and the kite was airborne. He handed the string to the older of the two then sat on a bench to watch.

If his marriage had lasted, he probably would have children that age. Again his thoughts were on Victoria. He knew he had to stop dwelling on the past, but sometimes it was hard. Wait a minute. Alison's lost her husband. She had ties as well, probably stronger than mine. She'll understand. That decided him.

He walked back home, got into his car, and drove to Alison's. Dawson showed him into the drawing room where Alison was reading. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

"Oh, no. I was just relaxing. Would you care for anything?"

"No, thanks." She dismissed Dawson. "Alison, I--"

"Steven, I never really got the chance to properly thank you for what you've done. Now I don't have to worry about having a roof over my head."

"It was nothing, really. I--"

"Andrew absolutely loved it. He never stopped talking about the fun he had with you and Jamie. Is it true you knew Butler?"

"Yes, but under a different name. He's still out there somewhere. The police never caught him." He held up a hand to keep from being interrupted again. "I know what I'm about to ask may be somewhat inappropriate under the circumstances, but I'm going to ask anyway." He sat next to her. "I actually think I would have asked this twenty years ago if things hadn't happened the way they did." He took her hands in his, looked her in the eyes and said, "Will you marry me, Alison?"

She was at a loss for words. "This is so unexpected," she said after a few moments. "I don't know what to say."

"'Yes' would be nice."

"It wouldn't seem decent. Charles hasn't even been gone a month. People would think I was just after your title. I think I should observe the proper period of mourning. After that, you can ask me again."

"How long will that be?"

She turned away from his hurt and pleading eyes. It was hard to refuse him when he looked like that. "A year. That doesn't mean we can't see each other. I just don't want to cause any scandals."

"I understand." He kissed her hand and stood. "You won't hear any talk of marriage from me at all--for a year. I'll remember this date." He left.

"I won't let you forget," she said softly. "I'll not let you get away again."

That night Steven placed a call through to Jamie at school. "What's up?" he asked.

"You alone?"

"Sounds secretive. Yes, I'm alone."

"Good." Steven took a deep breath. "I followed your advice."

"What advice?"

"I asked Alison to marry me."

"That's great! What did she say?"

"She said 'no'. It was too soon after Charles' death. She wants to 'observe the proper period of mourning'. She said to ask again in a year."

"At least she didn't totally blow you off."

"Blow me off?"

"Say good-bye. She told you to ask again. So what are you going to do?"

"I'm still going to see her if that's what you mean. I'm just not going to mention marriage again. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Dad. You can trust me to keep it secret." When he replaced the receiver, he cheered.

Alison made a similar call to Andrew, "What is it, Mum?"

"Steven proposed to me this afternoon."

"That's wonderful! What did you say? You did give him an answer?"

"Yes, I said to wait."

"Whatever for?"

"Andrew, your father hasn't even been dead a month! It's much too soon to even think of accepting a proposal. I told him that didn't mean I wouldn't go out with him."

"I hope you didn't put him off, Mum."

"He told me he'd be back," she answered. "And I know he will be."

"I'm glad for you, Mum. I really am."

"I thought you'd like to know. Love you."

"I love you too, Mum." He hung up the phone. His first thought was how fab it would be to have Jamie as a brother.

**********************************************************

After being told to wait by Alison, Steven began to perform some of his dukely duties; making speeches, attending ceremonies, and going on international relation trips. He also did some decorating in his new home, giving rooms a less formal touch. In July, he took Jamie on a trip to the States so he could meet his American cousins.

When he returned in August, he received a phone call asking him to open the Edinburgh Festival. "I'd like that very much, Mr. MacDonald. When would you like me to be there?"

"It officially starts this Saturday, but if you could arrange to be here Friday afternoon, we could do a dry run."

Steven wrote it down on his calendar. "Friday it is, Mr. MacDonald."

"Thank you, your Grace. I shall pass on the news to the rest of the committee."

Steven then called Alison and asked if she wanted to go to the festival. "I've been asked to the opening ceremonies."

"What's so strange about that? You are the duke of Edinburgh."

"Will you come?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I've already promised to visit a friend in Capetown. Andrew, however, might want to go. Is Jamie going to join you?"

"I haven't mentioned it to him yet. How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Probably until the end of September. I promise to let you know when I get back."

"Have a good trip. Tell Andrew I'm going up on Friday if he wants to come along."

"I'll tell him."

"Good-bye, then."

"Good-bye."

Steven stared at the phone after he hung up. So, she was going to South Africa. It seemed that everything was going full circle.

He began to look forward to Friday. He had never been to the Edinburgh Festival before. He preferred to visit the city in the off-season when he could just stroll along the streets and talk to people without all the hustle and bustle. This time he had to show some decorum since--for the majority of the time--he would be acting in an official capacity.

Thursday night he received a phone call from his sister. "How may I be of service, ma'am?"

"Stop being silly. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Okay, shoot."

"How would you like to head the Royal Command Performance Entertainment Committee?"

"Come again?"

"How would you--"

"I heard you the first time. How can you have a committee if it's by royal command?"

"You found me out," she laughed. "All I'm asking is if you could come up with some acts for the show."

"I guess."

"And contact them?"

"Why me?"

"You're being so cooperative and responsible lately, I thought I'd ask."

"Okay, when is it?"

"October 20. Thanks, Steven."

He put down the phone. His sister was taking advantage of him. At least she hadn't asked him to go to Parliment. He finished packing and made an early night of it considering he wanted to be in Edinburgh by mid-afternoon.

*******************************************************

He arrived in Edinburgh close to 4:00. He parked the car in the courtyard and took his weekend bag inside. He was greeted in the front hall by the butler and the rest of the staff. "It's good to see you again, your Grace." He motioned for one of the footmen to take his bag. "Would you care for some tea?"

"That would definitely hit the spot. Have you heard from the boys?"

"Master James said that he should be here by 5:00. He had talked with Mr. Moreland who said he should be in around the same time."

"Excellent. This could prove a fun weekend." he rubbed his hands together with pleasure. "I'll take tea in the study. Afterwards, I have to meet with the Festival Committee."

"Yes, sir. Mr. MacDonald called and said he would be at the Castle until 6:00."

"Thank you, Logan. That'll be all. Show the boys in if I'm still here."

"Yes, sir." Logan left.

Steven went into the study and sat back in an easy chair and glanced about the room. Sometimes he felt he could really get used to being waited on and, at other times, he liked fending for himself. A maid came in bearing the teea tray and withdrew after dropping a polite curtsey. The tea of the afternoon was Earl Grey--his favorite--with scones and watercress sandwiches. Maybe I should hire a housekeeper for the St. James house. He contemplated the idea as he sipped his tea and decided he liked it. Having a butler or a valet as well would be too much.

At 4:45 he decided to leave for the Castle despite the boys' not being there. "Logan, I'll be on my way. Tell the boys where I'll be if they want me."

"Very good, sir."

Steven strolled along the Royal Mile to the Castle. The few people who were out and about waved and smiled in his direction. He stopped in front of St. Giles' Cathedral. Such a beautiful building. He went inside to the Chapel of the Most Noble Order of the Thistle. The chapel wasn't as old as the Cathedral, but that didn't diminish its beauty. The ideal spot to be married. Man, I have to stop thinking that way! He left and continued on to the Castle.

He found MacDonald overseeing the placement of chairs on the main platform. Steven sat on one of the benches set up for the audience and waited. It seemed as if MacDonald was making a special effort to make this turn out right.

MacDonald saw him. "Your Grace," he said, coming down the steps, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No. I walked from Holyrood so I was just resting my feet."

"Good. Good. When did you arrive in Edinburgh?"

"About an hour ago."

MacDonald led Steven onto the platform. "As you can see, there are nametags on the chairs. You'll be on the left side of the podium and will speak after the Lord Mayor's welcome. Do you have anything prepared?"

"Partially. I know mainly what I want to say, the rest I'll just ad lib." He sat in his prescribed chair. "How long should it run?"

MacDonald was usure how to handle this. How could he tell the duke of Edinburgh the length of his speech? "You shouldn't me asking me, your Grace."

"I shouldn't expect too much of them. They'll be exccited and want to move about. They won't sit still for a long, boring speech." He laughed at MacDonald's expression. "I'll make it a short, boring speech and I'll test it out first."

"And I know who'll be the guinea pigs!" called Jamie from the floor.

"When did you get in?" asked Steven. "Is Andrew with you?"

"Yes, your Grace," Andrew answered, using the title in front of MacDonald.

"We got in ten meninutes after you left. Logan told us where you'd gone, so we followed. Now we know what to look forward to tonight."

MacDonald took Andrew to be a friend of Jamie's. "Did you meet an Lord Jamie's school?"

Steven and Jamie answered simultaneously "Yes!" and "No!" confusing the poor Scot.

"Yes, they met at Jamie's school, a cricket match, I think," Steven lied.

Jamie realized that his father didn't want people to know about Andrew just yet. "I thought you meant did we meet at school for the trip."

"I go to a different school than Jamie, but we did meet at a match as his father said. I'm Andrew Moreland."

MacDonald shook his hand in welcome. "Ever been to Edinburgh before, lad?"

"No, this is my first time."

"During the Festival is one of the two best times to come."

"When's the other time?"

"When the Festival's not going on," replied Steven with a laugh.

Over dinner, Steven asked Andrew what he thought of Edinburgh. "It's magnificent. I don't know why we didn't come here earlier."

"Dad likes asking people their impressions. It gives his ego a boost."

"Why shouldn't I be proud? This is where I was born. It's steeped in history, and, it's supposedly mine." He took a sip of his wine. "I have a little chore you boys can help me with."

"Not your speech, please. I don't want to be carried to bed already asleep."

"Very funny. No, I had a phone call before I came up and a favor was asked of me. I thought you two would be the perfect people to help."

"Is it anything like what we did with Bannister?" asked Andrew, excited at the chance of possible action again.

"No, it's a bit more tame than that. We have to pick acts for the Royal Command Performance."

"We can choose? We get to pick anybody?"

Steven knew automatically Jamie's choice. "Don't raise your hopes. We're only to think of acts and recommend. Sarah has the last word."

"Okay. Just don't pick a lot of stuffy old guys."

"Good." He pulled out paper and pencils. "Let's start."

III

After a successful weekend, Monday found Steven back in St. James Square. He now had to deliver the list for the Royal Command to his sister. He took it out of his pocket and looked at it. There, as bold as brass at the top, was Jamie's first choice. He smiled as he pictured his sister's face when she saw it. He replaced the list and headed for the door.

He opened the door to find a man standing there, reaching for the bell. "Oh, hello, your Grace. I'm just returning my charge."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. I hope he wasn't any trouble."

"Not at all."

The "charge" they were talking about was a Scottie that Steven had named Macduff. In his excitement, he had wound himself--and the leash--about Steven's legs. Mr. Cullen handed over the leash and left Steven alone to untangle himself. Steven whistled and Macduff stopped and sat. "Good boy. I know you're happy to see me. I'm happy to see you, too, but I don't run around in circles." He untwisted the leash and knelt beside the dog. "Okay." Macduff rushed him.

After what Steven thought a sufficient length of time, he stood. "I have to go to the Palace, and, if you promise to behave yourself, you can come." Macduff barked. "I thought so." He shut and locked the door behind him.

On the Mall, he removed Macduff's leash and controlled him by whistles. He strolled along in a good mood. Everything was going great, no hitches. He looked down the road at the Palace. Crowds, lots of crowds. He checked his watch--11:20. The Changing of the Guard. He'd never make it past the crowd. Unless. . . He stood in the center of the Mall and waited for the Guards. When they reached him, he had a personal escort to the Palace gates. When they stopped in the courtyard, he saluted and went inside, Macduff at his heels.

He proceeded to the Royal Apartments, Macduff now running ahead. Secretaries and servants saw him and greeted him with a bow or bob. Steven smiled or waved. Some of the people working here had been on staff when the Palace was his home--for two short years. After Victoria died, he felt he couldn't continue as king. He abdicated in favor of his sister. That had been 13 years ago.

He stopped in front of the "Receiving Room" as he liked to call it. He could hear giggling coming from inside. He stepped in and saw Macduff playing with Prince Henry on the floor while his parents looked on. "This would make a lovely photo for the files," he remarked.

"We knew you couldn't be far behind," his brother-in-law Fitz said.

"I almost didn't make it to the building. I forgot about the Changing. I used it to my advantage, though."

"You would."

"I have your list for you." He handed it to her. "Jamie and a friend helped."

Sarah looked at the list and laughed. "They had to. I don't think you would have chosen the Beatles."

Henry looked at her. "Will we really have the Beatles, Mummy?"

Fitz answered for her. "Maybe. It depends if they can fit it in their schedule."

"Well, wjhat do you think? Is there anyone you want to add or take off?"

"No, this looks quite good." She looked it over. "You've completed Phase One."

" 'Phase One'?"

"Now you have to contact their managers or agents." Steven groaned. "You said on Thursday that you would."

Macduff began to whine because he was being left to himself. Sarah looked to Fitz who stood. "C'mon, Henry, let's take Macduff out to the gardens to play. Your mother wants to talk business with Uncle James."

"Okay. C'mon, Macduff." He clapped his hands. The Scottie hesitated until Steven motioned with his hand.

When they were alone, Steven flopped into a chair. "What's all the secrecy about?"

"You're one to talk about secrecy. Who's this mystery woman you're involved with?"

"I'm not involved with any mystery woman."

"Don't bluff me, Steven. Someone is making you act responsible and I don't think it's Jamie."

He broke down and told her the story of when he first met Alison to his rebuffed proposal. "So now you know."

"When do I get to meet her?"

"You sound like I should be bringing her home to meet my mother."

"I am your mother--now."

"God forbid. Sometimes I wonder if you really are my younger sister."

"I'm happy for you, I really am, but when can I meet her?"

"She's in Capetown at the moment, but I plan on asking her to the Royal Command."

"Something of a baptism by fire, isn't it?" Steven looked at her, questioning her choice of words. "You know the press will be out in droves, especially around you if you have a new lady-friend on your arm. It can be quite an experience if you're not used to it."

"Speaking from experience?"

"I'm only trying to help." She sounded a little hurt.

"I know. I'm sorry. When I ask her, I'll inform her of what goes on."

Sarah laughed. "You haven't asked her yet?"

"How could I? She's in South Africa."

"That's one of you're better excuses."

"Excuse? That's the truth."

"With your background in story-telling and excuse-giving, it's a wonder that anyone will believe anything you say." She stood. "Will you stay for lunch?"

"Don't mind if I do."

**************************************************

September passed quickly. Steven kept the promise he made to himself and hired a housekeeper. Since he was always off doing something, he needed someone to help keep the place clean and all the other responsibilities that went along with the job. There were quite a number of applicants, many just out of curiosity because of Steven's sudden need of a domestic. The field was narrowed down and he finally settled on a widow from Kent, now living in Chelsea, Mrs. Allen.

"Let me show you to your quarters. You were aware that you would be living on the premises?"

"Yes, your Grace. That was one of the attractions of this position, what, wwith my children being grown and married."

Steven smiled. "Then you'll be able to handle a teenage boy."

"If you meen Lord Jamie, he could not be any worse than my own were."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Mrs. Allen." She said that she could start the following day, Steven told her that he would have a set of house keys made. This was going to work, he could feel it.

****************************************************

By the time the phone ran the following week, Steven was used to Mrs. Allen answering it. "A Mrs. Moreland for you, sir."

"Thank you, Mrs. Allen. I'll take it in the study." He shut the door behind him and picked up the extension. "Hello, Alison. It's good to hear from you."

"Thanks, Steven. It's good to be back. Who answered the phone?"

"Mrs. Allen, my housekeeper."

"You hired a housekeeper? What brought on that decision?"

"I thought that since I was behaving like a duke, my house should look like it belongs to one."

"A duke's household would have more than just a housekeeper."

"Don't rush me. Besides, right now it's just me and Jamie when he's home for the hols. How was Capetown?"

"Boring." She anticipated his remark. "It was fun seeing old friends, but after about a week, it wasn't anymore. One thing you might find amusing. I saw John Sinclair and he asked about you."

"Really?" Sinclair was the man he had conned into buying a worthless diamond mine that had belonged to Alison's father. "He actually had to ask about me? Doesn't he read the papers?"

Alison laughed. "I don't think he wanted to believe it. I assured him that it was true and he forgave you, putting it down to 'impetuous youth'." Steven heard a buzz in the background. "I have to go. I'm at work trying to catch up on things."

"Sure. Before you do, however, what are you doing on October 20th?"

"Steven that's two weeks away. I don't know what I'll be doing."

"I do. You--and your son--will be joining me--and my son--at the Prince of Wales Theaatre for the Royal Command Performance."

"Oh, Steven, that's too good to be true! I've always wanted to go. Oh, my! I've just realized I've nothing to wear!" Steven laughed. "I really have to go now. Thank you for asking. I'll call you later."

Steven hung up and smiled. He couldn't believe how well things were progressing.

*******************************************************

The night of October 20th found Steven, Alison, Jamie, and Andrew in the back of a limosine on their way to the Prince of Wales Theatre. Steven was dressed in a tuxedo with his ducal sash. Jamie and Andrew also wore tuxedoes. Alsion was wearing a simply cut gown of royal blue and a diamod necklace with matching earrings. "I've never ridden in a limosine before," remarked Andrew in awe.

"I have only once before. It's not a thing that Dad does often."

"I was surprised when you entered the drive in this," said Alison. "What brought you to it?"

"Purely a whim. A form of entertainment for the peasants." He smiled. "An occassion like this calls for a limo." The car slowed. "Here we are."

The car pulled up to the front entrance of the theatre and the door was opened by a liveried footman. Steven stepped out and bulbs flashed. He turned and helped Alison. He held out his arm and she placed hers around it and they walked to the door. "Just smile and nod your head a bit," he advised.

"You seem to know what you're doing considering you haven't done it in awhile."

"Yeah, but when I did do it, I did a lot of it."

Inside, they were greeted by Sarah and Fitz. Steven introduced Alison. "You are certainly a great influence on him. I have to nag for months to get him to do the smallest thing, and here you are, not saying a word, and he's practically a new man."

Alison smiled. "Maybe he's finally grown up."

"I know," said Jamie. "He can be so juvenile sometimes."

"Sshh, it's time to meet the performers," Steven said as to change the subject.

They followed Sarah to where the acts had lined up to meet "the Royals". Jamie kept trying to look ahead, peering about his father. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see where they are."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The Beatles, of course."

"I should have known."

"There they are. We'll be up to them soon."

"A little anxious, are we? Behave yourself. You're as much a celebrity to them as they are to you." Jamie nodded and tried hard to control himself when he was introduced to Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr. They progressed through the line then went to the Royal box. Everyone stood when they entered and only sat down after Sarah had done so.

The show was wonderful, but for Jamie, Andrew, and the rest of the teenagers, there was only one act. The older, more conservative members of the audience were unsure of how to receive this "Northern rock and roll" band. The ice was broken, however, when John Lennon introduced the last number by saying "Those of you in the cheaper seats, clap your hands. The rest of you, if you'd just rattle your jewelry."

When the show was over, Steven tracked down the boys as they tried to go backstage. "Can't you leave them alone? I'm sure they have better things to do than entertain you in their dressing room. And don't go off without telling me. For a minute, I thought Bannister had gotten you." He hurried the boys to the front. "Get in the limo. I'll find Alison."

Alison proved to be with Sarah and Fitz. It seemed that Sarah was trying to persuade her into something. "Steven, there you are. I'm trying to talk Alison into coming back to the Palace with us."

"I can't," said Alison. "I have to be at work tomorrow. Besides, I'm very tired. This day has worn me out."

"Can't you take a rain-check? After all, this woman has a business to run. You only have to run a country," Steven said as he ushered Alison out to the limo.

"Are you sure that was wise?"

"She won't take 'no' for an answer, so we just gave her a definite maybe."

Alison laughed. "How should I arrange the date? I don't think my calls would go through."

"Let me know and I'll tell Sarah. She'll get word to you."

One week later, Alison was invited to Buckingham Palace for tea. Steven begged out of his invitation saying that it should just be for the women. Alison called him a coward. "I don't deny it. I would be the focal point of conversation and Sarah will tell you stories that will embarrass me. I'd rather not be there when she did." He did drive her over, and promised to pick her up in a few hours.

He drove home and prepared himself some tea. He found some scones, clotted cream, and took out his Earl Grey. Mrs. Allen had the day off; it was her grandson's birthday. He sat in his living room and looked through an album of old photos. He found one that someone had taken in 1940 of the two of them aboard ship. He stared at the phot and realized that he had loved her even then, which made him all the more determined not to let her go again.

****************************************************

On the evening of November 22, Steven was preparing to go out to dinner with Alison when the phone rang. "It's your sister, your Grace."

"Thank you, Mrs. Allen." He picked up the extension in his room. "Hello, Sarah. What's up?"

"Bad news. I've just received word from the States."

Steven could hear the anguish in her voice. "What is it?"

"President Kennedy is dead. He was shot in Dallas while parading through the city." She continued to tell him of what happened as it had been relayed to her.

When she was done, Steven very softly said, "I'm going there."

"What?"

"I said I'm going there."

"I'll get you a plane and a pilot."

"Thanks." He hung up and called Mrs. Allen. "I'll be going on a trip and need my bags packed in a hurry."

"I've already started, sir. I thought that was why she called. Will you be needing your sash?"

"Yes. I'll also need some sombre clothes. I'll be attending a funeral."

"What about Mrs. Moreland?"

"I'll call her now."

Alison answered. "This is very strange, Steven. Couldn't it wait until I see you?"

"That's just it. I have to postpone. I've just heard some tragic news and have to go to Washington. I'll take you out when I get back. Promise."

Steven arrived at Andrews Air Force base and was met by two men he guessed to be Secret Service. "What did I do to be so honored?"

"We were told to meet you." They escorted him into the waiting car.

The ride to the White House was quiet. The agents didn't say anything and Steven didn't want to strain their tongues. He was ushered to the front door where a porter took his hat and coat. "Mrs. Kennedy, President, and Mrs. Johnson are waiting for you in the front parlor, your Grace, if you will please follow me."

Steven noticed that his two acquaintances had left. "Where are they?" he asked the porter.

"They have done what they were assigned. It is my duty to help you while you are inside the house." The porter knocked on one of a set of double doors before opening it. "His Grace, the duke of Edinburgh," he announced.

Steven walked into the parlor and was greeted by Mr. Johnson--President Johnson, he corrected himself. "Welcome to Washington, your Grace."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Mrs. Kennedy rose from her seat and Steven went to meet her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kennedy. I can sincerely say I know what you're going through."

"Thank you, your Grace. It was so nice of you to come."

"How did you know when I would be arriving?"

"Your sister called with her condolences and said that you were on your way." She led him to a chair. "You must have had a tiring journey. Would you care for something to drink?"

"A cup of tea would be fine, thank you." He looked around the room. "Things have certainly changed since I was here last."

"When was that, your Grace?" asked Mrs. Johnson.

"1952, I think. Some friends and I visited Truman and talked about Korea. I knew Eisenhower but only as a general. Your late husband," he said, looking in Mrs. Kennedy's direction, "I met once in London. Quite an admirable man. When I heard the news, I knew I had to come."

Steven's tea arrived and the conversation turned from the subject on everyone's mind. They would have enough grieving at the funeral.

After dinner Steven was shown to his room--the Lincoln room. When the porter told him that the room was supposedly haunted, he replied, "I don't think he would do any harm, given his reputation."

"Especially to you, your Grace." Steven smiled and the porter left.

Lying in bed, Steven thought back to March 1949. He had had everything a man could want; a beautiful wife, his health, family, and being the head of a country didn't hurt. Then the blow came. An assassin's bullet hit the wrong target, killing his wife Victoria. Eve since then, he realized, he had been afraid of giving his heart to anyone for fear of loosing them. He knew that he couldn't constantly live with this fear or depend so strongly on his memories of her. He had devoted nearly fifteen years to her memory and now it was time to break away from that dependence. Come April, he would ask Alison again and wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

The next morning, Steven woke in a good mood. He was pleased with himself for making his mind up about Victoria and Alison. So please, as a matter of fact, that he whistled in the shower. It wasn't until he returned to his room to see his clothes laid out on the bed, that he realized the he had been whistling in a house of mourning.

After the funeral and procession, Steven took his leave.

**************************************************************

He arrived home and kicked off his shoes and put up his feet. He was sitting there for fifteen minutes when Mrs. Allen entered. "Your Grace, I didn't hear you come in. How was America?"

"What can one expect from a funeral? It was sobering and depressing. The man was quite popular and might have won a second term. Such a senseless waste." He sighed. "What happened while I was away?"

Mrs. Allen filled him in on some of the London happenings. "Things seemed quiet while you were away, sir."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You could say that, yes."

Steven stretched. "I'm going to try and catch up on some sleep. If I'm not up by half-past one, call me."

He went upstairs to his room, dropped his bag, then fell face-down on the bed. He lay there for a few moments then rolled onto his back. The first thing he saw was an old, well-loved teddy bear sitting on a shelf. He stood and took it down. It was well-preserved for its age. Steven remembered holding it when his mother died when he was two. He remembered squeezing it at the age of four when he learned of his father's death; hugging it when his uncle died when he was six. He may have even been comforted by it when his wife died when he was 28, he couldn't quite remember. This bear brought back memories of losses, but also of comfort and surviving. It was funny how it comforted him now after the death of a near-stranger. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

There was a knock on the door. It repeated. "It's half-past one, sir. You asked me to wake you," came a voice from the other side.

"Thank you, Mrs. Allen. Could you fix me up some lunch? I'll be right out." He sat up and looked at his watch out of habit. Mrs. Allen was punctual as usual. He placed the bear back on the shelf and quickly ran a comb through his hair. He looked at his wrinkled clothes; he'd change after lunch.

Mrs. Allen had a plate of sandwiches and a pint of lager waiting. "You must be a mind reader, Mrs. Allen. This is exactly what I wanted."

She smiled. "What nonsense, sir. My boys would want the same thing. Would you like your mail in here or do you wish to read it in the study?"

"In here, I guess." She went to get it. "Did I have any phone calls?"

"Yesterday a Mr. Forbes called to say he was back in London. And while you were napping," she said with a smile, "Mrs. Moreland called and said that she would stop by at 2:00."

"Then I'd better change out of this before she arrives." The doorbell rang. "Too late." Mrs. Allen went to answer the door. "No, I'll get it." He went to the front door, checking his appearance in the mirror in the hall. Acceptable. He opened the door. "Hi. C'mon in."

She took in his wrinkled clothes as she entered. "Did you sleep well?" she asked with a smile.

Steven grinned. "Very well. I was just going to change. I was planning an excursion for this afternoon. Would you care to join me?"

"Certainly. Where are we going?"

"Windsor. I'm feeling especially contemplative and want to be with history." She nodded. "Good. Let me change and I'll be right down. Mrs. Allen'll fix up some tea if you want."

It wasn't until they were on the M4 just past Heathrow that Alison asked him about his trip. "How was it?"

"As well as could be expected for a funeral. The last time I was at a State funeral, I was one of the principle mourners."

"I'm sorry."

"Why should you be?" You've gone through the same thing and recently at that."

"Why Windsor?"

"I'm in a morbid frame of mind right now. What better place to combat it? I want to visit St. George's Chapel after hours. You can stay in the apartments if you'd rather."

"No, I'll join you. It's not very healthy to be there alone when you're in this frame of mind. Surely you can see that?"

"Guess you're right."

Steven drove through the town to the main castle gates. The guards on duty saluted and let them enter. Steven stopped the car at the front entrance. It was dusk which enhanced the castle's medieval atmosphere. "We might have to stay the night?"

"Have to?"

"I may not feel like driving back and I wouldn't want to make you. Sarah should have some clothes here that would fit you."

Alison smiled. "It's not every woman who can wear the clothes of a queen."

After speaking with the butler about dinner and accommodations, Steven led Alison through the halls so they would just have to cross the courtyard and miss most of the tours. Steven nodded to the woman in the ticket kiosk who could only stare in amazement as they walked by. Their footsteps echoed in the empty building.

"This place never fails to amaze me," said Alison. "The workmanship is spectacular." She turned to see Steven walking along the side aisle by the crypts. She was about to call after him, but changed her mind and followed instead.

He had stopped in front of a crypt with an iron gate to keep people from entering. He pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it in the lock. Alison stayed outside and watched him. He ran his fingers across the marble bust of a beautiful woman. She couldn't tell, but she thought he was crying. Hanging on the back wall was a portrait of two men standing together, a Scottish terrier at their feet. There was also a photo of a blonde woman with laughing blue eyes. Alison knew this to be Victoria, Steven's wife.

Steven noticed she was there. "My family. This is my mother," he said as he looked at the bust. "She died when I was two. I still feel she's with me at times. This bust was commissioned by my father and sculpted from photos."

"She's lovely. I can see a resemblance, especially in Sarah. Is that your father in the portrait?"

"Yes. That's my uncle with him."

"The one that took you and Sarah to America?"

Steven nodded. "One of my first duties as King was to re-inter them here. I mean, it was the least I could do."

Alison could see he wanted to be alone. "I'll just go into the Garter Hall and wait for you. Don't be long."

"Thanks for understanding." He kissed her.

"Just don't become overwhelmingly morbid." She left.

Steven joined her twenty minutes later. She was looking at the grave of Jane Seymour. "I don't know whether to feel sorry for her or happy. If she had lived, Henry would have doted on her since she bore him a son, yet I don't know if I'd wish being the wife of Henry VIII on anybody."

"He was just obsessed with having a male heir. If he had only known what Elizabeth would do, he would have realized that one's sex didn't enter into it."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, much. How about a stroll?"

***********************************************************

The New Year arrived and brought with it more responsibilities for Steven and some good news from Jamie. He had made the Cambridge crew team. "I hope it was on your merit."

"It was. We had a new coach at the try-outs and I used a false name."

"Congratulations. I'll try and make it up for a race, but I can't promise anything. Your aunt has me running everywhere. I didn't realize there were so many watering holes for elderly women organized for the excuse of helping others."

Jamie laughed. "It can't be all bad."

"No, just most of it." Steven told Jamie to take care and study hard. "I'll come visit when I can. Bye." He replaced the receiver and allowed himself a smile.

Steven only made it to one race and that was the all-important one against Oxford. He was lucky to have squeezed that in-between his speeches. He made sure, however, to leave a day open in April: the day. He called on Alison at home, but Dawson told him that she was at the publishing house. He drove there and went straight to her office ignoring the stares of the workers. Her private secretary barely had time to inform her over the intercom.

"Steven, what are you doing here?"

"I thought it was obvious. I'm taking you away from all this."

"I can't just leave. It's just not done."

"Traditions have to start somewhere." He took her jacket out of the closet and led her by the hand out of the office. As they passed her secretary, he said, "Cancel all Mrs. Moreland's appointments for today and reschedule them to everyone's convenience."

Steven continued to pull her along, ignoring her protests and questions. She stopped in the lobby, refusing to move. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to lunch."

"It's not even 12:00."

"Who said lunch had to start at 12:00? Besides, we have a drive ahead of us."

"At least we don't have to walk."

"Good, now come along."

Alison followed him to the car and took a deep breath once she sat down. He had the top down and the spring sun had warmed the seats. "Well?"

Steven smiled. "Well, what?"

"Where are we going for lunch? Maxim's? The Connaught?"

"Regent's Park."

"Regent's Park? What's at Regent's Park?"

"Well, it's not there yet. Actually, it's in the boot."

"The boot?"

"Will you stop repeating everything I say?"

"Sorry. But the boot?"

"Where else would I put the picnic hamper?"

"Steven, how wonderful! I haven't been on a picnic in ages!"

"Now will you tell me I was right to take you away from work? You're relaxed already."

They entered the park from Marylebone Road and walked to the heart of the park where the sound of traffic was muffled. Steven pulled out a blanket and helped Alison sit. He then proceeded to pull out cold ham, cheese, salad, bread ("baked by Mrs. Allen yesterday"), and a chilled bottle of wine.

"This is just too much. What possessed you to do all this?"

"I'd say I was inspired, not possessed. I just thought you needed a day off and this was just a different way of doing it."

"It certainly is." She sipped her wine.

"Would you care for a sandwich, or just sliced ham?"

"Just slices, please."

"How's Andrew?"

"Fine. He'll be off to Cambridge in the fall. How does Jamie like it?"

"The boy is in heaven. It's like a whole other world." He handed Alison her plate. "He's just as excited to get back as he is to come home."

"What's he reading?"

"Every type of history he can. I think it might be because he doesn't know his own." He began to make his sandwich.

"How is your sister and her family?"

"They're fine. I actually contemplated having the picnic in the Palace Gardens but thought that this was more fun."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're not walled out of sight, we're in public view."

"How is that fun?"

"The real fun hasn't started yet," he grinned. He stood and reached out his hand to help her up. "We'll just pack up the hamper and take it with us."

"I find it hard to trust you when you have that look in your eyes," Alison told him.

"I've never done anything to hurt you, have I?"

"No."

"So why don't you trust me?"

"Oh, I trust you, it's the look in your eyes that's untrustworthy."

Steven picked up the hamper in one hand and took Alison's hand in the other. He led her down to the lake and paid the attendant who had reserved a boat for them. Steven climbed aboard first with the hamper, then turned around to help Alison. She sat on the seat in the stern while Steven sat in the middle and rowed out to the Heronnry, an island in the center of the lake. Just offshore of the island, Steven brought in the oars and they drifted. Because it was the middle of the workday, the lake was practically free of boats.

"So, this is the fun you meant," Alison said as she trailed her fingers in the water. She tilted her head back and looked at the sky. "This day is so beautiful. I don't know when I've seen a bluer sky."

Steven had just sat there looking at her. "Alison, I asked you this once before and you said to wait a year. Well, the year is up and I'm asking you again. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"I know this is an important decision to make and you should take your time--did you say 'yes'?"

"Yes, Steven, I'll marry you. I've wanted to ever since I first saw you onboard the liner."

Steven leaned forward to kiss her, and, in his eagerness, almost tipped them over. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a case from Cartier's. He opened it and showed her the simply cut gold band with a four-carat diamond. "Steven, it's beautiful!" He placed it on her finger and kissed her again.

"Now you know why I canceled your appointments for today."

"Why today, though? Was this spontaneous?"

"I kept my promise and didn't talk of marriage for a whole year. It was exactly one year ago today since my first proposal. This whole day was planned and it's nowhere near over."

Alison nodded dumbly; she was still in shock over the proposal. Steven rowed back to shore and packed the hamper into the car. Alison didn't realize how well Steven had planned the day until they pulled up in front of the Palace. "What are we doing here?"

"Tea, and to tell Sarah and Fitz the news."

"I hope I can last through it."

"To be perfectly honest, I think Sarah suspected we were going to do this--or rather, I was. I don't think it'll be much of a surprise. I told her last year about the first proposal, so she knew I was just biding my time."

"In that case, it shouldn't be too bad."

*****************************************************

Alison was partially right. Telling Sarah and Fitz was the easy part. Jamie and Andrew each knew it was going to happen and they rejoiced. The hard part began when the newsmen got their hands on it. Steven tried to play it down as much as he could, but the event was too much of a story to let go. After all, Steven was (a) a royal duke, (b) an international hero, (c) the richest man in Britain, and (d) because of these three qualifications, the most eligible bachelor in Europe. A few papers even printed the story that Steven had known Alison before Victoria.

Alison knew what to expect and handled the situation quite well. Being a publisher, she knew how to win people over and the Press was pleased with her. Steven handled the pre-nuptial hurrahs with his usual aplomb. He had become much better in handling the Press during the past year. He had always tried to avoid it before. Now he knew that was impossible.

The date was set for September and the ceremony would be held at St. Paul's.

At the end of August, as the day drew near, the Press had some story about the wedding in the papers everyday. Steven began to be annoyed by all of this and decided to return the favor. He mentioned his idea to Alison, who agreed. He then notified Sarah, Fitz, and few friends, telling them of the change of plans.

A week before the scheduled day for the wedding, they all drove--separately, of course--to Edinburgh. Steven thought that the citizens would think nothing of it because of the Festival. The plan was that they would get married early in St. Giles' and the Press would find out too late.

The morning of the wedding found Steven elated. This was a moment he had been avoiding for fifteen years, and now he had become reconciled with his feelings. What he was doing was right. He kept re-doing his silk cravat, never satisfied with how it looked. Finally, he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. He out on his dove-grey tuxedo and was checking himself in the mirror as Jamie walked in. "How do I look?"

"You look fine, Dad. What's the matter? Butterflies?"

"A few," he admitted.

"We'd better get going. It's only half-an-hour until the ceremony," said Jamie, looking at his own reflection.

"Have you seen Alison today?"

"No, but I saw Andrew. He said she's a bit nervous, too."

"What about Sarah and Fitz?"

"They're waiting downstairs to drive over with us."

"Okay, let's go."

They drove from Holyrood House to St. Giles' Cathedral in perfect peace; the public was actually aware of why they were attending a service, but some had suspicions. While standing, waiting, Steven kept nervously checking that everything was just right. Within five minutes, he had asked Jamie five times if he had the ring. Jamie in turn asked Fitz if he had been the same way the first time. A few minutes before the ceremony was to start, they entered the Thistle Chapel. Steven saw some of his friends sitting in the pews. Tristan Forbes, an ex-police constable who had joined Steven for excitement. John Dolittle, a friend from World War II, now a Superintendent at Scotland yard. Nicholas Adamson, his newest acquaintance, a con-man gone straight, sort of. Telegrams had been arriving from those he told that couldn't make it.

The ceremony started promptly at 10am. Alison wore a simple pale blue gown with a veiled hat. Andrew, wearing a dark blue suit, gave the bride away. All during the service, Steven's mind kept "floating away" with his memories; Alison and Victoria blending together. A good sign, he thought. The ring was a gold band with a diamond and two small sapphires.

Afterwards, they gathered at Holyrood for the reception. A few curious newshounds, following up on a rumor, got the scoop on the wedding and wired it down to London.

Logan, the butler, brought Steven a telegram on a salver. "For you, your Grace."

"Put it with the others, Logan."

"It was marked 'Urgent', sir."

Steven took the telegram and opened it. It simply read: "Enjoy your happiness. It won't last long." It wasn't signed, but it was obvious to Steven who sent it. He wasn't going to let Bannister ruin this marriage.

"Who was that from, Steven?" asked Alison.

"Just another well-wisher. Nothing important." He crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket.

The Eagle Chronicles 31: Third Time Lucky (1/2)

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 17:08:13 GMT

Title: Third Time Lucky
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 15668
Summary Steven goes to a funeral and rekindles an old relationship.
Notes: The majority of this series was written over 20 years ago and I like to think that my style has improved since then. I've been told that I should probably edit them before I post like this but I can't edit myself. To me it looks fine. If you see a section that needs work, please tell me!

31. Third Time Lucky

March 1963

Steven Taylor flipped through the newspaper listlessly. His son was off on holiday with some school friends and he couldn't think of anything to do to pass the time. He threw down the paper only to have it open to the obituaries. "Oh, great, I'm looking at how I feel: dead." A name caught his eye. Moreland. He knew he had met a Moreland once, sometime. He picked up the paper and read:

Moreland, Charles A. Died Tuesday 12 April of pneumonia. Mr. Moreland was owner of the Moreland Publishing House and its subsidiaries, an estimated worth of in excess of £500,000. He is survived by one son, Andrew, and his wife Alison, née Montclair. Memorial services will be held Saturday, 16 April 1.00pm at the Armitage Funeral Parlor.

He knew he knew a Moreland! He had met him in 1943, a month or so before he had been kidnapped and taken to Germany. It was when he had been seeing Alison again. He had been quite serious about her then. He had only seen her once again before the war ended, then nothing until now. He had to go to the funeral.

*******************************************************

One o'clock found him sitting in the back of the chapel, listening to the service begin. He tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she was too far in front. Afterwards, giving condolences, he'd see her then. The service was short and quiet. A hymn or two were sung and Andrew read one of his father's favorite poems. Not a bad-looking kid. Definitely has his mother's eyes.

When the service was over, Steven hung back, unsure of how to approach her after twenty years. The hell with it. He joined the line. He saw her face and noticed how kind the years had been to her. She looked in his direction and he quickly turned away. He wasn't ready for talking just yet; he didn't know what to say. Finally, he was in front of her, putting forth his right hand to shake hers and offer his condolences. She noticed his signet ring and looked up, startled. "Steven--your Grace, thank you for coming."

"It's still Steven for you. I read about it in the paper and I had to come. Even though the last time I saw him was a little over twenty years ago."

"So much has changed since then." She changed her tone. "Oh, we're holding up the line. Please stand beside me."

"I feel somewhat out of place. I mean, Charles and I were once. . ."

"Rivals? Nonsense. You were always comforting, even when you weren't there." He looked at her questioningly. "Just knowing there was someone like you." He smiled and agreed to stay.

When the service was over, Steven offered to drive her home. "What about Andrew?"

"He's included in the invitation." He smiled. "I don't want you to think of this as anything other than a gesture from an old friend."

"A very generous gesture. I accept." She called to Andrew and told him to dismiss the driver.

"Why, Mother?"

"His Grace has offered us a ride home and I've accepted. You don't mid, do you?"

"No."

"Good." She turned to Steven. "I'll be right back."

"I'll wait out front." He placed his hands in his trouser pockets and walked to the door. "Care to join me?" he asked Andrew.

"I guess." Andrew was unsure of this man who had suddenly shown up in his mother's life. Especially at his father's funeral.

Steven sat on the steps. "I know what you're thinking, my showing up like this. Your mother and I were once very close, I almost proposed but the war caught up with me again. I thought I had lost her for good--until this morning."

Andrew stood on the opposite side of the steps. "She used to talk about you."

"She did?" Steven quickly restrained his curiosity. "Anyway, I'm here just to help an old friend in a time of need."

"Okay." Andrew forced a smile. "Your Grace," he added.

Steven laughed. "When it's just us, you can call me Steven if it'll make you more comfortable."

Alison came back and saw the two of them smiling. "Did I miss something?"

"No, we're just getting acquainted. Are we all set?" Alison and Andrew nodded then followed Steven to his car.

Andrew couldn't believe what he saw. "Is this really your car?"

"You like her?"

"It's beautiful." The youth ran his fingers along the side of the car. "Beautiful."

The car in question was a red 1939 Alvis convertible which had been a gift from Winston Churchill in 1943. It was recognized wherever he went. In spite of seeing action on the homefront--bullets and crashes--the car was in top condition. "You had this the last time we were together," remarked Alison. "I remember clubbing in it."

"Clubbing?" asked Andrew as he climbed into the back seat. "What's that?"

"What kind of education have you given this boy?" Steven questioned as he helped Alison into the car. "He doesn't even know what clubbing is." He smiled as he sat behind the wheel. "Clubbing is when you go from nightclub to nightclub, spending about an hour or so in each."

"We must have set a record for the number of clubs visited in less than a week," remarked Alison.

"A week? You only had a week together?" Andrew couldn't believe it.

"We only went clubbing for a week. After that, a little murder pulled us apart," said Steven.

"We had met on the way to South Africa," his mother explained. "He got on the wrong ocean liner."

"The wrong liner? How did you manage that?"

"I had to get out of London in a hurry. A slight disagreement with the authorities."

"Anyway, he helped your grandfather and I sell a worthless mine, providing the money for us to move to London."

"Three years later we met by accident and she wanted nothing to do with me. That is, until I confessed."

"Then the war interrupted."

Alison broke in to give Steven directions to their home. During the drive, Steven pulled Andrew out of his shell. He learned that the boy was born in May 1946 and that he had plans for Cambridge. "I'll have to introduce you to Jamie. He's only a little over a year older than you." He pulled into the drive. "Cute little cottage you have here."

"It can't compare to an ancestral castle, but it's home."

The "cottage" in question was a manor house three stories high with two mock-Doric columns on either side of the front steps. Alison and Andrew both thanked Steven for the ride and Alison asked him to tea the following day. "I'd ask you in, but I'd rather be alone right now."

"That's quite all right, I understand." His wife of one day had been shot by someone trying to kill him. That tragedy led to his abdication.

"Oh, Steven I forgot. You really do understand." She started to cry.

He gave her a quick hug. "You just go in and get some rest. I won't say 'sleep' 'cos that might be near impossible. I'll be here at 4:00 tomorrow." He turned to Andrew. "You take good care of your mother." Andrew nodded and Steven left.

Driving home, Steven thought back to London twenty years ago. Alison had hardly changed at all. She was a mother now, for one thing. He, himself, was a father, even though it was through adoption. More responsibility had accumulated in that time. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been dragged to Berlin, if he hadn't met Victoria. Victoria. Everything went back to her. He would never be rid of the painful memory of holding her in the cold, Swiss air; of her final words: I love you. Jamie gave him a sense of family.

*****************************************************

The following afternoon, Steven arrived for tea. The butler announced him. "His Grace, the duke of Edinburgh."

Alison had to suppress a smile when she saw the face Steven made. "Thank you very much, Dawson. We'll take tea in the drawing room."

After the butler left, Steven gave her an affectionate kiss. "How are you holding up?" For an answer, she began to laugh. "Did I miss something funny?"

"The look on your face when Dawson announced you."

"I hate all that title stuff, especially for a private tea."

"Dawson can now say he's introduced the most-wanted bachelor in England."

"I haven't been on a most-wanted list in decades."

Over tea and sandwiches, the two reminisced about old times. In the back of his mind, Steven knew there was some other reason for his invitation. This doubts were proved correct when Dawson discreetly entered. "Mr. Cramer is here, ma'am."

"Very good, Dawson. Please show him in then ask Andrew to join us." Dawson left.

A middle-aged man entered the room.. He carried himself well and held a leather briefcase. "Ah, Mrs. Moreland. I hope you are handling the situation well?" He then saw Steven. "I didn't know you had company. Your Grace." Steven nodded.

"His Grace is here as a favor to me, Mr. Cramer. We are old friends. I knew him before I met Charles."

"No explanations are necessary. When your son arrives, I will read you the will."

Steven whispered, "I had a feeling you had an ulterior motive, but if you wanted me to hear the reading of the will, why didn't you just ask?"

"Inviting you to tea sounded much better than inviting you to a will-reading."

Andrew entered the room and greeted both Steven and the solicitor before sitting on the sofa next to his mother. Mr. Cramer cleared his throat. "Now that you are both here, we can proceed." He looked down at the will and read the document aloud.

I, Charles Moreland, being of sound mind and body do hereby declare, in front of the undersigned witness, that this is my last will and testament. To my wife Alison, I leave my controlling shares of Moreland Publishing, of which, my son Andrew, upon his twenty-first birthday, will receive half. To my second cousin, Jonathan Butler, I leave my estate and £500,000. The remainder shall be divided according to the following stipulations.

He continued to read the unimportant bits, then looked up to see Alison's surprised face.

"That can't be Charles' will. It can't be. He can't leave us without the house."

"You could always sell some of the stock."

"Then it wouldn't really be Moreland Publishing, would it?"

"No, I guess not." Steven walked to Mr. Cramer and spoke with him out of Alison's hearing. "Are you sure this is the will?"

"Yes, your Grace. I witnessed it personally. It is perfectly legal."

"I'll be stopping by your offices tomorrow to talk further on this. Right now, I think you should leave. No offense, but you just might be an upsetting presence."

Mr. Cramer handed Steven his card. "I'll see you tomorrow, then, your Grace." He left.

Steven went back to Alison. "Do you want to talk about it? This whole thing doesn't sound right."

Alison wiped her eyes. "You mean you're going to help us?"

"Of course." He gave her a comforting hug. "I'm not going to let you be cheated out of your inheritance."

"Are you sure we've been cheated?" asked Andrew.

"Have you ever seen or heard of this Jonathan Butler?" They both shook their heads. "I thought so. I think your husband was conned into writing a second will. All we have to do is prove it."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"That, Andrew, my boy, is simple. We just locate then 'get the goods' on him." He smirked. "Which is easier said than done in some cases."

****************************************************************

The next afternoon, Steven visited Cramer and his associates at the Middle Temple. "You remember that I said I would stop by?"

"Yes, your Grace," the solicitor said, rising from his desk. "Please, do sit down. Would you care for some refreshment? Tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Cramer. I'll be meeting my sister lasted this afternoon for tea. I'm here on Mrs. Moreland's behalf. She wishes to protest the will."

"As I said, your Grace, the will os perfectly legal."

"Yes, but is it legitimate?"

"Are you accusing this firm of witnessing a fraudulent will?" Cramer was indignant.

"Mr. Moreland left the estate and a sizable amount of money to a cousin that Mrs. Moreland had never heard him mention. I'm only questioning the legitimacy of his claim."

"Mrs. Moreland didn't know about Mr. Butler? In all confidence, your Grace, I must admit I was surprised when he came in asking to draw up a second will."

"When did this happen?"

"Two months before he died."

"Do you have Mr. Butler's address?"

"It's against our policy. . ."

"This man could ruin your firm's reputation, Mr. Cramer."

"Yes, your Grace. This news could be harmful." he gave Steven a slip of paper with a Chelsea address. "I haven't been able to reach him since Mr. Moreland's demise, so he may be out of town."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Thirty minutes later, Steven pulled up in front of the house where the elusive Mr. Butler lived. The house looked as if it had been recently painted. There was also a small lawn with roses along the path. "Quite the little homemaker." He glanced upstairs and thought he saw a shadow. "So he is home. Must have arrived today." He looked both ways down the street before he picked the lock on the front door. Directly inside the foyer was a narrow stairway. Steven walked up using the lesser-worn sides of the steps themselves. The door at the top was closed but light shone through the cracks. He pushed it open and found himself in a small, open flat. In the kitchen area in found a newspaper with an article circled; an article about the Moreland funeral with his name mentioned. He then noticed there was a mug of coffee which was still steaming. Freshly poured. That meant that he didn't imagine someone in the window.

He walked over to the window in question and looked out. From this vantage point he could see most of the road in both directions. Butler would have had enough time to leave, so why did he wait until I entered the house? He heard the click of a door latch followed by the squeak of a floorboard. He turned to find the door to the stairs closed when he had left it open. He had been in the flat the whole time! He ran to the door and began to use his shoulder as a battering ram to force it open. It finally gave away and Steven found himself staring into an inferno. Butler certainly burned his bridges behind him. There was no other way out. Or was there? He ran back to the window and realized he could survive the jump with no injuries, provided he landed properly. He opened the window, gauged the distance, and jumped. Upon landing, he tucked his shoulder and rolled across the lawn. He then walked over to a neighbor's house and casually phoned the fire department.

Upon returning home to his St. James townhouse after tea, Steven mused over what had happened. Butler was a fake. If he has nothing to hide, why would he try to burn me to a crisp? He paused in his thoughts--someone was in the kitchen. He crept to his desk and took a knife out of the top drawer. He turned towards the kitchen door to see it slowly open. He raised the knife.

The person backed out and turned around. "Hi, Dad. You can put the knife down, it's only me."

Steven lowered the knife and glared at his adopted son. "Jamie, don't you ever do that again."

"Sure." He put down his tray of food. "Where were you? I thought you'd be home."

"Her Most Royal Majesty invited me to tea."

Jamie looked at him and smiled. "Okay, who is she?"

"Your aunt."

"No. Whenever you start calling Aunt Sarah 'Her Royal Majesty', you've got something--or someone--on your mind. Who is she?"

"What makes you think there's a woman involved?"

Jamie walked to the coffee table and handed Steven the newspaper. "This." It was his picture with Alison at the funeral. "So?"

"An old friend. Haven't seen her for close to twenty years. I wanted to offer my condolences. Anyway, she discovered that her husband left the majority of his estate to a man claiming to be a cousin. I did some investigating and learned that he wrote the new will two months before he died."

"Is it just me, or do you smell smoke?" Jamie sniffed the air.

"You can still smell it? This suit's for the cleaners. To answer your question, I tracked down Butler only to be burned out of his house."

"You've had a full day."

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you and your friends were planning to go off on holiday."

"We planned, but that's as far as we got. Kevin, Nigel, and Ian got called home for family reasons, so I decided to come home as well. Good thing I did, too. You could probably use the help."

Steven smiled at this. "She does have a son . . ."

"Oh, no. I'm not gonna baby-sit while you go out on a date."

"It's not a date. If it were, you and Andrew wouldn't be coming along."

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen, possibly seventeen. I'm not sure."

"You want me to associate with a seventeen-year-old?"

"Don't make me laugh. You just turned eighteen."

"Don't remind me."

**************************************************

That evening at dinner, the four got along famously. They weren't disturbed by public or press and were able to enjoy their meal in peace. Steven wasn't sure how Jamie would handle Andrew, being such opposites, but Jamie actually drew him out of his shell. Watching the other boy's face, Steven could see that he was impressed with Jamie's ability to create conversation.

When the final course was completed, Jamie leaned over and whispered in Andrew's ear. The latter nodded vigorously. "Um, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay if Andrew and I went to this club? This fab new group from the North is playing there."

"I don't know," Steven hesitated.

"C'mon, Dad. We'll even take public transport." Jamie refused to give up. No way was he going to miss the hottest new band in England.

"Where are they from?"

"Liverpool. You know, that band everyone's talking about."

"Okay. Take care. Keep an eye on each other. I don't want any bad reports."

"Sure, Dad." The two boys left.

"Here we are," Steven said.

"Yes." Alison sipped her coffee. "I think Jamie seems a very trustworthy young man."

"Don't let that fool you. He's not always like that. Sometimes he gets forgetful and irresponsible."

"At that age, they're in-between being children and adults." Steven rolled his eyes. "I remember a young man near that age who knew his way about the world--except when under pressure. He's the only one I know who mistook Capetown for New York."

"Touché." He tipped an imaginary hat to her. "No. Jamie really is a good kid and is stubborn concerning things he feels strongly about." He sat back and stared at the table for a short time. "Are you done?"

Alison could see he was becoming restless. "Yes, I'm done."

Steven waved the waiter over and paid for dinner. "I feel like a drive. How about you?"

"A drive would be lovely."

Steven placed her wrap about her shoulders. "Anywhere in particular you feel like going?"

"No. Let's just drive and see where we end up."

"Good idea." They stood outside and the valet brought his car around. Steven tipped him generously. "Put it to good use."

"Thank you, your Grace."

Steven held the door open for her then walked around to his door. "That was a very good dinner," he said as he pulled onto the road.

"Yes, it was. I enjoyed myself very much." She watched as Steven relaxed behind the wheel. "This is like old times." Steven laughed. "Let's go dancing."

"Dancing? I don't think we'll find any clubs that still play our music."

"Who said anything about a club? We can always pull off somewhere and put on the radio."

"I think I know the ideal place." Steven smiled and Alison knew he had something up his sleeve. He turned his car off the road and parked along the Victoria Embankment. "How's this?"

"Steven, it's perfect." She stepped out of the car and into the garden. "The sky is positively gorgeous."

"Let's just find the right music." He turned on the radio.

". . .That was the latest song by that hot new group from Liverpool. . ."

"I don't think so." He changed the station and found some big band music. "That's more like it." He walked to Alison. "May I have this dance?"

"You may," she replied in mock seriousness.

Steven took her in his arms and danced her about the Embankment. It seemed as if they were both young again with virtually no worries or responsibilities. They were so enraptured with each other that they didn't notice the change in the weather until it began to rain.

They laughed until Steven realized something important. "I left the top down on the car!"

*******************************************************

Steven arrived home dripping wet, and was greeted by the two boys. "What happened to you?" asked Jamie.

"Forgot to put the top up." He took his jacket off. "How was your band?"

"Really fab. Got their autographs, too."

"I bet they were flattered."

"No, I didn't tell them who I was." He followed his father into his room. "Andrew was kinda tired after the show so I said he could stay here."

"You'd better call his mother."

"We left a message with the butler and he promised to let her know as soon as she came in."

Steven changed into some dry clothes. "Could you put the kettle on? I think I need a hot cup of tea."

"Sure."

Despite the uncalled-for shower, Steven was still in a good mood--a little damp, but that was beside the point. On the way home from Alison's house, he had done some scheming and decided on a plan to catch Butler "in the act". He joined the boys in the kitchen and fixed his tea. "I think I have a little job for you two to do tomorrow."

Jamie knew the look in his father's eyes, but Andrew didn't. "What sort of job?"

"One that will get your inheritance back. I have a very strong reason to believe that this Butler character is a fake." He told them of what happened that afternoon.

"So what do you want us to do?" asked Jamie.

"Won't he be suspicious of anything involving Jamie--or myself?" remarked Andrew.

"You forget, Andrew, that I am a master of the fine art of subterfuge."

"What?"

"He simply means," interpreted Jamie, "that we con him ourselves."

"Right. You are going to be brothers whose rich--but senile--grandfather is dying, only he plans to leave his money to some sort of shelter for cats, or something of a similar nature. Anyway, you've heard of Butler through connections and you want him to fix the will."

"What if he won't? What if he denies everything?"

"Offer him a percentage. Haggle a bit. Should work, he's greedy enough. Arrange for him to meet you at the home where Gramps is living out his last days. I'll set up the room and have a recorder to catch the conversation. How's that sound?"

"I'm not sure."

"Don't worry, Andrew. Jamie will do most of the talking. You just have to back up what he says. Nothing'll go wrong."

"Okay."

"All we have to do is think of new names. How about Sebastian and Nigel?"

Andrew wrinkled his nose. "Nigel's okay, but Sebastian? You might as well call yourself Bertram!"

"You're right," said Jamie, laughing at his father's discomfort regarding his former alias. "Is Jeremy any better?"

"Much."

"It's settled then. The two of you are Jeremy and Nigel. Tomorrow we begin."

***********************************************************

The next morning Andrew woke to the aroma of bacon and eggs. "Delicious. Simply delicious." He put on a borrowed robe over his borrowed pajamas and walked over to Jamie. "Breakfast," he said.

"Hunh?" Jamie mumbled. He propped himself up, opened one eye, saw what time it was, then rolled over with a groan.

Andrew shrugged and walked downstairs.

Steven saw him as he entered the kitchen. "Good morning, Andrew. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." He sat at the table.

"I hope you're hungry," Steven said as he served the boy. "Sometimes I make too much."

"Will there be enough for Jamie?"

"You can never find enough for him," Steven said, filling his own plate, "but he won't go without. I assume you tried to wake him. I should have told you it was a lost cause."

"It was not a lost cause," Jamie remarked grumpily as he shuffled into the kitchen. "Not all of us can wake up at the sound of a pin dropping."

Steven smiled. "I apologize."

"Accepted," Jamie said after his first mouthful.

"Are you two ready for a bit of play-acting today?"

Andrew quickly swallowed. "Today?"

"The sooner the better. I'll go over your story with you so everything will run smoothly. Don't worry. You'll be fine, 'Nigel.' So will you, 'Jeremy'."

Later that morning, close to noon, the boys were dressed for their parts. Jamie wore a brown suit with a dark brown tie, while Andrew's was navy with a red tie. Steven looked them over. "You look snooty enough, but something's missing." He carefully examined them. "Got it!" He went into his room and came back out with something red fluttering in his hand. "This should brighten things," he said, placing the handkerchief in Andrew's pocket. Jamie looked at his own pocket. "You have your own wardrobe. Andrew is borrowing. However, you are both getting tie clips from my collection. On loan, of course."

"Of course," Jamie agreed.

"Good. Now tell me what you're going to do."

"We're going to go into his place and convince him we're in need of his services."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Tell him about our very rich--and senile--grandfather who plans to leave his money to a home for stray cats."

"For the sake of practice, I'll be Butler and you can work on the story."

"Okay."

They ran through the story until Steven felt it was convincing. "How are we going to get there? He'll recognize your car and we can't take the bus, that would ruin everything," Andrew remarked.

"I know." There was a knock on the door. "Our solution."

He opened the door. "I brought around that car you asked for, Steven, though I don't know why."

"Thanks, John. It's very much appreciated." Steven motioned him inside. "Your timing is impeccable."

"Aim to please. What's this all about?"

"Note the detecting mind, gentlemen. Always questioning. What's going on, Mr. Superintendent, is that there is someone out there swindling widows out of their inheritances."

Superintendent John Dolittle shook his head. "So it's come to this, has it? The Eagle lowered to fishing out third-rate con-men?"

"This is not a third-rate job. Besides, what better way to catch one?"

"How did you get involved?"

"Let's just say it's hit close to hime." Steven decided yo tell John about Alison. "And this is her son, Andrew. He's going to help us in this little escapade."

"I wish you luck with it. Here are the keys. I'll be back to pick it up."

"Keys?" asked Jamie. "What kind is it?"

"Aston-Martin." John said as he headed out the door.

Jamie's eyes glowed. "An Aston-Martin."

"Just like James Bond," said Andrew.

"Except that ours is on loan from the police."

*******************************************************

Jamie pulled up in front of the address Steven had given him. "This car drives like a dream. Too bad it's not for keeps."

"Well, we have to act like it is," Andrew reminded him.

"Right. Shall we go in, Nigel?"

"After you, Jeremy."

Jamie knocked on the door and waited. It was answered by a man of medium height with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that was almost in a permanent scowl. He also had a scar along his right cheekbone. "Can I help you?"

"If you are Mr. Butler," said Jamie.

"And if I am?"

"We have need of your services," Andrew told him.

"Come in. We can't talk business in the street." Butler led them inside. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Jamie said. "We have heard through friends that you 'doctor' certain documents."

"And we knew you could help us."

Butler took this into account. "Why me?"

"We have never made such dealings before. Your name was referred to us."

"What's the problem?"

"Our grandfather and cats."

Butler looked at Jamie. "What my brother Nigel means to say is that our grandfather plans to leave all his money to a home for cats."

"Over £1 million," added Andrew.

"We are his only surviving relatives, Mr. Butler. It is only fair that we should inherit."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to the old fool and persuade him to write a new will leaving the money to us."

"What would I get out of this?"

"A fair percentage of the total, Mr. Butler, to be decided after the will is signed and legal. No second will, no pay."

"When do you want me to meet him?"

"Tonight at the Kennsington Nursing Home. Room 20. 7:00."

"What's the old man's name? They might ask me."

"Neville Bennett," said Jamie off the top of his head.

"Okay. 7:00 tonight, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Mr. Butler. Until tonight." Jamie and Andrew left the house. Once inside the car, they each let out a sigh.

"Thank goodness that's over," said Andrew.

"That's only Phase One. The rest will happen tonight. Until then we've nothing to do. How about picking up the new Beatles' album?"

"Shouldn't we tell your dad about what happened?"

"We can phone him. He won't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay." He looked at Jamie. "That would be fab."

II

The old man coughed as he tried to prop himself up in his bed. His wrinkled face showed pain, but he refused help from the youth standing beside the bed. His blue eyes showed a tenacity that belied his frail form.

"Here, Grandfather, have a glass of water."

"I'd rather a whiskey," he said in a dry voice. "You've no need to pretend, boy. I know you don't care thing one about me. You and your brother both."

There was a polite knock on the door before it opened. "Good evening, Grandfather," said a second youth.

"Don't you even bother to wait for an answer, Jeremy? What manners you ever had as a boy are certainly gone now."

"I did warn you, Mr. Butler. He is very crotchety," he whispered to the man beside him.

"That you did, Mr. Bennett. This might take some time." He walked to the old man. "Mr. Neville Bennett? My name is Jonathan Butler and I represent the South London Feline Home. Our board is feeling a little guilty, taking your money from your only living relatives. We are grateful for the donation, but maybe a smaller one is in order."

"Those two boys put you up to this, didn't they? they'll do anything to get their grubby little hands on my money."

"No, Mr. Bennett. I met your grandson in the hall and he brought me here. All I'd like to do is settle on a sum agreeable to both parties."

"What I planned is agreeable to me and the Home. Now get out of here and take those poor excuses for grandsons with you!" He began to wheeze.

"Certainly, Grandfather. Don't over-tax yourself on our account," said the first youth.

"None of your sweet talk, Nigel! I knew what I was doing when I left you out of the will!" his voice followed them into the hall.

Nigel and Jeremy walked with Butler to his car where he agreed to help them. "Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Thank you for your time. We'll see you in a week."

They watched as the man drove away then rushed inside to Room 20. "How are you feeling, 'Grandfather'?"

"I could still use that whisky," Steven said, climbing out of the bed. "How did it go? Did you get everything?"

Jamie took the small tape recorder out of his pocket. "Every word."

"Great." Steven walked to the sink in the adjoining bathroom and began to wipe off his makeup. "Let's get back to the house and have something of a nightcap, shall we?" He stuck his head back into the room. The boys began to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You are with white hair," answered Jamie between laughs.

Steven looked in the mirror and had to admit that he did look funny. "That can wait until we're back home." He fished the keys to the Aston-Martin out of his pocket. "We'd better get going. Dolittle will be coming for the car."

"Does it have to go back?" asked Andrew.

"You mean you prefer that to my car?"

"Yours is more an antique, a classic, compared with this," said Jamie, saving Andrew from embarrassment. "It's unfair to compare them."

"Quick thinking," Steven told them.

Once they returned to St. James Square, Steven put the boys in charge of getting dinner together while he washed the white dye out of his hair. He couldn't believe how smoothly it had gone. He put the tape Jamie had given him in the medicine cabinet; not a place someone would look for a cassette tape. He heard the boys making noise in the kitchen, playing the new album Jamie had bought that afternoon. Yeah, I'll tell you something, I hope you understand, When I say that something, I want to hold your hand. . . What lyrics. No wonder they were taking the country by storm.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The record just cut off in the middle of a song. Jamie would never do that. Maybe they're just going to start it over. He continued to rinse his hair. He thought about Butler. There's something about him that reminds me of someone else. I just can't place it.

"Dad, could you come here a minute?" asked Jamie with a note of warning in his voice.

Steven towel-dried his hair as he walked into the living room. That slight note of panic was all Steven needed to remember what was bothering him. "Hello, Bannister," he said nonchalant. "How nice of you to visit from beyond the grave."

Bannister held a gun tightly in his hand and smiled. "You've played dead before, so I thought I'd give it a try." He turned to Jamie. "I almost didn't recognize you, boy. You put on quite a performance." He looked around Steven's new home. "A beautiful place, your Grace. A definite step up from your flat in Picadilly."

"How did you escape the crash?" Steven asked, referring to their last encounter five years ago when Bannister had kidnapped Jamie to get to him.

"I was thrown out of the car before it hit the Thames. Not without damage, however," he said, gently touching his cheek. "I was fished out by a man who happened to be an actor. He took me to a clinic where I recovered."

"And since the police thought Jonathan Bannister dead, you created a new identity," put in Jamie.

"You haven't learned to curb your tongue yet?" Bannister said with a glare in his direction.

"I'll curb my tongue once you change your ways," he replied.

Steven looked at him and told him to be quiet. "So, what do you want now?"

"To finish what I started: kill you and the boy."

Andrew was confused. This man had conned his father under the name of Butler and it now seemed that Jamie and Steven knew him under the name of Bannister. "Are you Butler or not?"

Bannister laughed. "Who's this, Taylor? Are you recruiting out of school?"

"You should know," said Jamie. "After all, you cheated his father."

"Ah, the Moreland boy. Well, these things can't be helped."

"Come now. You're really pushing it, Dear Heart. I made an appointment for tonight, and if I'm not there, they'll know something's wrong."

"Don't fool with me, Taylor. That's one of the oldest jokes in the book. Now, sit down over there." He motioned him to a seat with the gun and Steven complied.

"Why did you take advantage of my father?" Andrew asked, wanting desperately to know the answer.

"The man was rich and twice as gullible." He turned to Steven. "How did you get involved with this? Interested in the widow?"

"I knew her before she met Charles. She asked me to the reading of the will and I volunteered to find you." He glanced covertly at Jamie, who nodded. "What are you going to do with us?"

"Kill you, of course. The only question is how."

Andrew became nervous. "You can't just kill us."

Bannister turned around and looked at him, gun in hand. "Why not?"

"It's. . .it's. . .unethical!" Bannister started to laugh. "What's going on? Why is he laughing?"

"Never try to talk ethics with a crook, especially one so demented," said Jamie.

There was a knock on the door and Steven moved to answer it, but Bannister motioned with the gun. "Don't trust you." He looked at Andrew. "You go, but don't try anything."

Andrew hesitated but Jamie and Steven encouraged him. He opened the front door. "May I help you?"

"Yes. I'm here to see his Grace. If he's not here, I'll come back later," said Dolittle as he signaled Andrew to play along.

"He won't be long if you'd care to wait."

"No, thanks. I've a few errands to run so I'll stop by later." He smiled at Andrew and left.

Andrew returned to the others in the living room. "Well?" asked Bannister.

"It was someone looking for Steven. Said he'd be back later."

Jamie started coughing violently. When he got his breath back he asked for a glass of water. "Please, or I'll start coughing again." Bannister hesitated. "Please!" He started to gag.

"You," he said pointing to Andrew, "get him the water."

Andrew went into the kitchen to fetch the water and unlocked the back door for Dolittle. This would be the only way out of the situation. Jamie was right, Bannister was demented.

"How long does it take to get a glass of water? Hurry up, boy!" Bannister called.

"Take it easy, Jonathan. Andrew won't go anywhere," Steven said, making himself comfortable in the chair.

Jamie followed his father's example, though still pretending to cough. "You haven't learned your lesson, have you?"

Bannister was not in the mood to be taunted. "Keep it up, kid. It'll give me the excuse I need."

"What you need is a psychiatrist, not an excuse!"

Bannister lunged for Jamie and Steven extended his leg to trip him. The gun went flying out of Bannister's hand. Andrew came into the room to find Steven and Bannister scrambling for the gun while Jamie stayed out of their way. Steven reached the gun and aimed it at Bannister's chest. "Get up, Jonathan. Time you'd paid a visit to the Yard."

"You can't do it, Taylor. Everyone knows you hate guns," he said with a confident smile.

"That doesn't mean don't know how to use it." It was his turn to motion with the gun. Bannister slowly rose. "Jamie, go call Dolittle. Tell him we have the man who cheated Moreland."

"Don't worry, I heard everything," said Dolittle, entering the room followed by two constables.

"Everything?"

"From when Andrew opened the unlocked the back door." He looked at Steven who hadn't taken his eyes off Bannister. "Is this the guy?"

"Yep. You might remember him as the man who decided to get his car washed in the Thames five years ago."

"He's the one who put me in hospital? The one who kidnapped Jamie and tried to kill you?"

"Yes. Could you take over now? My arms are getting tired."

"Sure."

While Steven was lowering the gun and a constable was taking out his handcuffs, Bannister made a run for the door. He ran out into the square and down the street with the constables following.

"What do we do now?" asked Andrew.

"You let the police handle this," said Dolittle. "They weren't my only constables. We'll get him."

"That's what you said last time," remarked Steven. "Don't get me wrong, we'll take your advice. It's time Andrew saw his mother." He looked at the two boys. "Okay?" They both nodded. "Get yourselves together. We'll take my car." Andrew looked at Steven and started laughing. He pointed and Jamie started as well. "What now?"

"Your hair's still grey!"

The ride to Alison's went quickly, and, as Andrew climbed the steps, Steven and Jamie started down the drive. He braked and looked in the rearview mirror and saw Alison walk out the front door. The smile on her face kept coming back to him during the drive home and on into the night.

As he got ready for bed, he sternly told himself to put her out of his mind. "You've no time for silliness," he told his reflection. "You've got speeches to give, receptions to attend, your estates to put in order, all of which are meaningless without someone to share them."

"So why don't you share them with Alison?" came Jamie's voice from behind him.

Steven faced his son. "What do you mean?"

Jamie took a bite of the cookie he was holding and answered around his mouthful, "Well, it's quite obvious you love her, so why don't you ask her to marry you?"

Steven slowly smiled. Ever since he had found Jamie at the age of ten on a beach, the boy had never ceased to amaze him. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No. Why should I?"

Steven walked over and took the cookie from Jamie's hand and finished it. "You know, upon occasion, you do come up with a brilliant idea."

Part Two.

Somebody Doesn't Like the Competition

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 23:07:34 GMT

Title: Somebody Doesn't Like the Competition
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: Doctor Who/TOC Files
Characters: Three, Sarah Jane, UNIT, OC
Word Count: 9884
Rating: G (I believe)
Notes: This is the fifth installment in my planned series to have Alan Kelly meet all of the Doctor's incarnations. Thanks to an earlier poll, I have a few ideas brewing for later stories. Thanks to Ray for being my beta and making sense of my disjointed scribblings.
Disclaimer The Doctor, Sarah Jane, UNIT and the TARDIS belong to the BBC. Alan, Ryan and Evan Kelly and Shannon Flynn are mine.

Lethbridge-Stewart followed the nervous theatre manager through the narrow halls to the star dressing rooms. He was babbling on about the "monsters" that had attacked. When the call had come, he had listened with some disbelief. Why would aliens attack a concert and a pop one at that?

"...locked it up in a storage closet."

"What was that, Mr. Wellbourne?"

"The Competition. They knocked one out-or killed it, I don't know-and locked it in a storage closet. I have a couple of men guarding it."

Lethbridge-Stewart turned to the sergeant behind him. "Benton, get a detail on that and send word to the Doctor."

"Yes, sir." Benton saluted and left.

Wellbourne stopped and knocked on the door. It was opened by a man probably in his mid-thirties with hair just short of brushing his shoulders. He was wearing a vertically striped shirt and flared navy corduroys. "Come in."

Wellbourne entered. "This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of UNIT. He's here to ask you about the, um, incident."

"UNIT?"

"Yes. The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, Mr..."

"Kelly, Alan Kelly."

The Brig smiled at the delivery. Think your James Bond, do you?

Lethbridge-Stewart followed the manager into the small but comfortable room where two other men, similarly dressed sat on a couch.

"My brothers Evan, Ryan."

There was also a woman with long auburn tresses pulled back from her face. She wore a loose Indian cotton shirt and denims.

"And I'm Shanon Flynn."

"You seem to be holding up well."

"I'm still shaking," said the one in the navy stripes. "To see that thing bearing down on me..." He shuddered.

Lethbridge-Stewart knew the man was putting on a front. There was something of the soldier about them all. "Do you have any idea why it would single you out?"

"It didn't like our music?" answered the third man.

Lethbridge-Stewart glared at him like he would one of his men for unwanted flippancy.

"We don't know why, sir," answered the woman with a soft brogue, "but I'll admit I'm curious."

"Weren't you scared, Miss--"

"Flynn. Petrified."

At that moment, Torres arrived. "The Doctor's ready, sir."

Miss Flynn closed her eyes and smiled. What a peculiar reaction.

"Very good." Lethbridge-Stewart turned to the band. "I would like to see this thing you captured. Mr. Wellbourne says you locked it in a closet." They were already standing and heading for the door. "My scientific advisor is already there and he doesn't like to be kept waiting," he added unnecessarily as they walked past him.

****************************

Sgt. Benton found the Doctor taking readings in the theatre with a device that looked like a brass calculator.

"They actually captured one?" He and Sarah looked up. "Alive or dead, Sergant?" he asked as they went backstage.

"I don't know, Doctor. They chucked it in a supply closet."

They had reached the closet guarded by Kendrick and Andersen. The Doctor simply aimed the sonic screwdriver to unlock it. He flicked the light switch illuminating the small, shelved room complete with boxes, small props, broom and recumbent alien.

Sarah Jane peered behind the Doctor at the creature. "It looks like an ape."

"Recognize it, Sergeant?"

"They were working for the Daleks during that business with Styles."

"You mean that peace conference a couple years back?" asked Sarah Jane. "There was mention of an assassination attempt. Was that them?"

"Indirectly."

"It's alien then?"

"Oh, very. They'e called Ogrons. Nothing special as far as a species go. Brutish thugs that hire themselves out as mercenaries." He knelt beside the fallen beast and checked the creature's cheek. "Well, this poor fellow's not going to be of any help."

"So we're still stuck with no leads."

"We do know one thing, Sarah Jane. Whoever's behind this is rich enough to pay the Ogrons or powerful to enough to promise them something. We just need to figure out who and why."

At that moment Lethbridge-Stewart arrived with three men and a woman, presumably the band.

"Ah, there you are, Doctor. These are the gentleman and lady that put--is that an Ogron?"

"Does it look like one?"

The Doctor looked at them and saw they were focused on him. "Well? What are you lot staring at? Never seen a genius before?"

"We know you're a Time Lord from Gallifrey, you have two hearts and travel in the TARDIS."

The Brigadier nodded. As he suspected, far more than their cover.

"Fascinating. Have we met?"

Three of them exchanged a knowing look.

"For us, yes," answered the woman. "For you, not yet."

"Time travelers." It was beginning to make sense. "That's why you were singled out. Traveling through the vortex gives off a distinct energy pattern.

Whoever sent these charming creatures wanted me and found you instead."

"Makes sense in a self-centered kind of way," said a second man.

"Ryan, shut it. This could be why he doesn't like you," the first hissed.

"This is all very interesting," said the Brigadier, "but I think we should continue this back at headquarters. Benton, get a detail of men to take the body out to the back. Oh, and make sure they get a tarp to cover it."

"We can do it with a lot less fuss," said the woman.

"You don't know where UNIT is," Sarah Jane told them.

"We won't need to," said the first man, "as long as the TARDIS is there." A smile spread across his face. "Last one there is a rotten egg." He disappeared.

***************************

Alan found himself looking at the front of the TARDIS. "Hello, beautiful," he said as he ran a hand along the wood paneling. Oh God, I sound like Jack! He was slightly tempted to go inside but as he was trying to get the Doctor to accept them, going into the TARDIS uninvited was not the thing. Instead, he rested his head against it. "I know you're a sentient being," he spoke out loud. "We've communicated before-after a fashion-and you've saved my life so I like to think of us as old friends. Thing is, I don't know if you have a personal timeline, or, because of your very nature, you're aware of every moment you experience. Anyway, I'd like to share with you our encounters and perhaps you can show them to the Doctor and make him a little less resistant towards us."

He laid his hands on the panels and felt a tingling in his fingers as well as a presence in his mind. She did know all that happened and would happen to the Doctor. She knew the idiosyncrasies and the faces of all his incarnations and all the companions that entered her doors. There were times she had tried to warn the Doctor of a dangerous situation but he had ignored her.

You sneaky thing. No wonder you took such a liking to me. You knew all about me. He stood back. "At least I'll have an ally when I meet earlier incarnations."

"What are you doing with my TARDIS?"

****************************

Sarah Jane felt slightly dizzy and Evan Kelly steadied her. "It'll pass."

"I prefer the TARDIS. I can even get a cuppa inside."

"We can stop for one if nobody's shooting at us." Evan smiled.
At that moment the others arrived with the body. She expected the Doctor to give the Ogron a detailed examination but the first thing he did was turn to the TARDIS and stride over.

"What are you doing with my TARDIS?" she heard him demand.

"At least he's the one getting the Doctor mad this time," she heard Ryan mutter.

They walked around to the opposite side of the TARDIS to see the Doctor fuming at Alan who stood looking quite relaxed.

"I repeat, what are you doing with my TARDIS?"

"I knew you'd have a tough time believing we knew you so I thought if I could get the old girl on my side, things might be easier."

"You communicated with the TARDIS?" Sarah Jane couldn't help herself.

"This is the first time we've held something resembling a conversation, but yeah."

"How did you know you could?"

"I didn't know, I just hoped. Last time we saw each other was because the TARDIS latched onto a telepathic signal I was sending to them." Alan motioned to his team.

"You think she recognized you then because of now?"

"Yes and no...I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Sarah Jane Smith." She held out her hand.

He shook it. "Col. Alan Kelly."

"Colonel?"

"Introductions later," said Ryan. "It looks like the Doctor's about to blow a gasket."

"Well, he is very possessive of the TARDIS," commented Shannon.

Sarah Jane couldn't argue with that. She had seen him stroke the console and coax it to get it to behave. For there to be someone else who could actually speak with it must hurt. "But how would she recognize you?"

"The TARDIS is connected to the time vortex. She knows everything that will happen and has happened to the both of us." The Doctor looked at Alan. "We must have met more than the one time."

"This is the fifth. So, you believe us now?"

"The evidence is overwhelming. I can't argue it."

"That's interesting, not wanting to argue the point." Ryan had a crooked grin on his face.

The Doctor pierced him with a glare. "Young man, I said I couldn't argue the point, not that I didn't want to."

Evan clamped Ryan on the shoulder. "It seems no matter which one you meet, you can ruffle his feathers."

{So, who had fifteen minutes in the pool?} Alan questioned.

{Shane.} answered Evan.

{Hah! Like taking candy.}

{I loathe you all.}

************************************

The Brigadier arrived at UNIT HQ and headed immediately for the Doctor's lab. The alien body was lying on the floor but no one was around. He stepped further into the room and noticed the TARDIS door was open. "Doctor!" he called. "Are you going to examine this...thing?"

The Doctor appeared in the doorway. "That 'thing', Brigadier, was once a living creature and there's no need to treat it like a piece of furniture."

"Then perhaps you should pick it up off the floor.

The Brig treasured the look on the Doctor's face. It wasn't that often that he got to bring the man down a notch.

"Yes, well... Colonel, if you would. Somebody clear off the table."

Colonel? The Brig watched as the man he had pegged as their leader stepped forward and helped the Doctor by taking the creature's legs. The rest of the group, including Miss Smith, cleared a table of the Doctor's many incomplete-possibly forgotten-experiments. Once the Ogron was laid out they gathered around to look at it.

"When we saw them before, they were working for the Daleks. Do you think they still are?"

"No. The Daleks would see them as failed investments." The Doctor smiled. "Probably consider them just stupid apes."

"What about the Master then?"

"Miss Smith?"

"Well, I've heard you and the Doctor talking about him. He's the Doctor's major headache, isn't he?"

"Ten out of Ten, Sarah. The last time I encountered them, they were employed by the Master."

Lethbridge-Stewart folded his arms behind his back and absent-mindedly tapped his riding crop on the bag of his leg as he paced the Doctor's laboratory.

"We're keeping this incident out of the press' vicinity."

Sarah Jane cleared her throat.

"Present company excluded of course, Miss Smith." The Brigadier smiled. "Of course, you are bound by--"

"I know. I know. I'm a very good girl, Brigadier."

"By now the Master will know his attempt failed. What he couldn't know is the nature of Col. Kelly and his associates. He'll therefore assume that the Ogrons killed you."

"He'll make a second attempt." The Doctor smiled. "Excellent reasoning, Alastair. I'm proud of you."

"Simple tactics, Doctor."

"We use the signal to get the location," said Shannon.

"But won't The Master, if it is him, suspect that we know?" asked Miss Smith.

"Very probably. but he'll be so driven to accomplish his goal, he'll overlook it. Megalomaniacs suffer from acute blindness. They believe they cannot fail. I'll lower the TARDIS shields allowing the perpetrator to read its energy signal. Using the TARDIS, I trace the source and we have the location of origin. I trust I can depend upon you, Col. Kelly, to make certain that I'm extracted from the Master's little tea party. He's known throughout the cosmos as a poor host"

"You can count on all of us, Doctor."

**************************************************

Shannon watched the Doctor as he worked about the console. This incarnation was much calmer that the previous incarnations she had seen. He was more methodical in his movements. It was strange after the exuberance the others had exhibited. It seemed this one was aiming for the suave debonair man-of-the-world persona. She tried picturing him with his hair slicked back and holding a martini.

"Do I amuse you, Miss Flynn?"

Oh, back to "Miss Flynn". He called me Shane last time. "Sorry. I was just thinking of something else."

"I was wondering since you seem to keep staring."

Embarrassed to be caught out, Shannon couldn't come up with a decent response.

"No doubt you are comparing me to what you've seen of later incarnations." The Doctor looked up from the device he was working on. "You do realize they only became that way due in part to me."

"Oh, absolutely. It's just that, um..." God, how do I tell him his looks will only improve with age without hurting him? "Your appearance seems younger the further along you get."

Oh, so I'm an old man, am I? The Doctor smiled.

"Well..."

"You should have seen the shabby little man I replaced. Younger in appearance but with all the refinement of a raccoon caught in a downpour whilst raiding a garbage hamper."

Shane laughs.

"But by your own argument--"

"No, no, my dear. I'm a response to that--that chimney sweep."

Shane grinned.

"Surely you can say something nice about him?"

"Yes. He was a genius, but I'm much smarter."

"Of course."

"So, do you have a favorite of my future selves?"

Eight!

"Just the ones I've met."

"Very diplomatic of you. So I make it at least to ten."

"I guess I shouldn't have said."

"Must remember to collect that fiver from Damon next time I see him."

"Time Lords use money?"

"We borrow other culture's currency when making friendly wagers."

{Are you guys ready?}

{In position} came Alan's reply.

{Same here} said Ryan.

"They're ready."

"Time to bait the hook." The Doctor pulled a small lever and the TARDIS gave a slight shudder.

Shane's machine started beeping. "Getting a reading." She fed the coordinates into the TARDIS.

"Tracking the source," the Doctor said.

{Anything, Ryan?}

{Yeah, somewhere north of us.} He gave her the coordinates.

When she saw the point where the two lines intersected, she ran the numbers again to make sure. "Crap."

"Do you have the point where they arrived?" asked the Doctor.

"It's the point where Alan and Sarah Jane went to get a reading."

************************************************

Alan woke to a splitting head. OK, this is getting ridiculous. At least he wasn't bound or tied down in any way. He was still locked up, though.

{Guys, the plan backfired. The idiots took me instead.} He didn't get any response. "Must be out of range. Maybe I can--" He stopped, wondering if the

room was bugged. Instead, he simply tried to contact the TARDIS. He reached something similar. The emotions he read were of a being cowed into submission and forced to do things against its will.

He broke contact when the door to his room opened and two Ogrons stood there. One of them began grunting and growling. Seeming to realize that Alan couldn't understand, it motioned with its gun.

Alan walked between the two along the corridor, their clanging footsteps echoing. Strictly utilitarian. Probably a freighter of some sort. Or course, best disguise. Freighters are considered harmless.

His escort stopped on front of a door and one of them pressed its against the sensor to the right. The door slid open and the second Ogron shoved him forward. The room was sparsely furnished with a desk, some chairs, a lounge and a cot. In one corner stood a tall cabinet, most likely for supplies and such.

"Welcome. I hope they didn't treat you too roughly."

Alan turned to see a man, seemingly middle-aged with a saturnine face complete with a graying goatee. He was wearing a dark Nehru jacket and trousers that would fit in well in this time period.

"No, I'm okay. Just don't know why I'm here."

"Good. They can be a bit overzealous at times. Please, take a seat." He motioned to one of the chairs facing the desk.

OK, a considerate kidnapper. I do not like where this is going.

"I have a business proposition for you."

"Do you use this unique approach on all your potential partners?"

"I thought it best to get you away from any outside influences."

"And what's to keep me from leaving?"

"I have your quaint device and none of your abilities will extend beyond this ship. Above all," he leaned forward and stared into Alan's eyes, "I am the Master and you will obey me."

***************************************************

{Ryan, I need you to get to these coordinates.}

{Shane, what's going on? Is that where the Ogrons are?}

{No, it's where they were. They took Alan and Sarah Jane is stranded.}

{OK, Evan and I are on our way.}

"What is it?" asked Evan.

"The Ogrons took Alan and we have to go get Sarah Jane."

"So Alan was the intended target all along. How could we have missed that?"

"Because the Doctor was so sure he was the target and we believed him."

"I sense a little hostility."

Ryan just rolled his eyes. "Let's just go get Sarah Jane."

They arrived at the coordinates that put them at an isolated bend in the Grand Union Canal. "Great. We might as well have gift-wrapped him. No witnesses."

"There's a boat tied up on the opposite bank," observed Evan. "Should we check?"

"Let's see what we can find here first."

They pulled out their torches and examined the ground. The grass was torn up in spots that proved a struggle but there were no signs of anyone getting away on foot.

"We'd better get back and come up with a plan."

Ryan looked at his older brother. "I can't get a location on him at all." He tried to keep the worry from his voice but knew it wasn't working.

"OK, that can be explained away without resorting to the worst. Not being able to get a reading on his machine could be due to something jamming the signal.

As for not reaching him telepathically, he could be unconscious. That's happened before, right?"

"Usually, yeah, but I can't even sense him."

"Let's get back and see if the Doctor can make any sense of this."

"Calm and reasonable. The ideal older brother. OK."

*************************************************

The Doctor looked at the readings and shook his head. There was something very wrong. At that moment, the two Kelly brothers returned without Sarah Jane.

He was not surprised. They were both visibly upset.

"Tell us you got the source of the signal," demanded Ryan.

The Doctor could not understand what the man held against him. "Unfortunately not. The signal dispersed before I could get a clear reading."

"That's not right," said Evan. "You should have been able to get something."

"Whoever this is really doesn't want us to find him." Ryan's face was cold. "They so do not want to mess with me."

The Doctor at that moment knew Ryan Kelly would be a formidable foe. There was something more behind his mercurial mood swings. It was as if there were two personalities inhabiting one body.

"Doctor?"

He turned to Shannon. "Yes, m'dear?"

{Huh. He always seems to like Shane.}

{Oh, shut it.}

{Ryan, why the heck do you care so much if the Doctor likes you?}

{It's just--I want to prove that I'm not....Crud. It's my ego, isn't it?}

{My guess.}

{Did I mention that I hate you?}

"Obviously the Ogrons had the ability to transport to wherever so wouldn't they have a device on them to do just that?"

"Of course! How simple!" He rushed out to the body and began to search it. "It must be the only frequency that can pass through the shield. If I can match it, I'll be able to get the TARDIS through as well."

"Just the TARDIS?"

The Doctor looked at Evan. "Your machines should work as well." He spotted a chain around its neck and tugged. At the end of the chain was a round medallion. The Doctor turned it over in his hand. The workmanship was intricate and quite remarkable.

"Now we have something to work with."

********************************************

As he continued to talk, the Master watched Col. Kelly's face. This might take a little longer than most if the stories are true. His psychic abilities might make it a bit harder but he was looking forward to the challenge. As it was, he hated depending on someone else-let alone a human-for his scheme to work.

The man was too honorable for simple greed and power to convince him so other methods had to be used.

The Master noticed Kelly's eyes had glazed over and his face had gone slack. "Who is your Master?"

"You are," he replied in a monotone. "But only in a day that doesn't end in 'y'," he finished in his real voice.

The Master sat back in his chair. I was so sure I had him.

"Really, does that line work? 'I am the Master and you will obey'," Kelly mimicked. "Sounds like something from a B-movie."

"Your abilities are far more remarkable than I thought. No mind. I do have a contingency." He nodded to one of the Ogrons and the creature left only to return a few moments later with the woman.

Kelly sat up straighter the minute he heard the woman's protests.

"Miss Sarah Jane Smith, an investigative journalist with a UNIT pass. For you to have such an item you must know the Doctor."

"Who?"

The Master would have been amused at her pretense had he the patience. "When you were first brought with the colonel, I thought you a hindrance. Now, however, you could prove most useful."

Kelly tried to hide his concern. "Oh, that is so passé."

"When you find something that works..."

Miss Smith struggled fiercely against the Ogron's hold. "Alan, you can't! The Doctor and your friends will find us!"

I should have gagged her so I wouldn't have to hear her protests. She does have more fire than Miss Grant-which isn't saying much.

"They have no way to locate us, Sarah Jane. He's jamming all signals."

"There must be something."

"Not that I can think of."

The Master could hear the resignation in Kelly's voice and was even more pleased by the look on his face. He clasped his hands together. "Have you reached a decision?"

"What do you need me to do?"

***********************************************

The Doctor immersed himself in his work. The Kelly brothers had disappeared, probably to expend some energy while they waited. Miss Flynn remained sitting in a corner perusing a book she had found in the TARDIS library. The Doctor smiled. Now if only Sarah Jane could master patience like that.

She looked up. "How's it coming? Can I do anything?"

"You can contact your friends. I believe I've done it."

Shannon stood. "It didn't take as long as you thought."

"I must be more of a genius than I realized." He smiled. "Are they on their way?"

"They were out on the firing range so it might take some time for them to get away. It seems the troops are surprised to see pop stars using automatic weapons."

"And you didn't feel the need to join them?"

She grinned. "As hardened as they are to seeing strange things, a woman with a rifle just might put them into therapy."

Evan and Ryan arrived. "I take it you have good news," said the former.

"I believe so." His hand hovered over the dematerialization switch. "Now aside for a rescue mission, we need to find out why they needed Alan and stop them." He looked at each of them waiting for acknowledgement. They nodded. "All right." He flicked the switch and the central column started its rise and fall.

*******************************************************

Alan was sitting on the cot next to Sarah Jane. To say she was upset with him would be a gross understatement. "The Doctor would have my hide if anything happened to you," he said trying to defend his actions.

"We could have fought back somehow."

"The Master has the upper hand at the moment. We just have to bide our time. At some point he's going to need me to use my abilities and that's when we make our move." Whatever that move may be. "Do you know anything more about this Master bloke?"

"Not much. The Doctor and he crossed swords a number of times. I think he's a Time Lord."

"The name would back up that theory. What is it with those anyway? Bit pretentious."

"Oh, I know. I mean they even call themselves 'Time Lords'." She sobered. "How many more do you think are out there, wandering about like him?"

"I dunno. A handful maybe-relatively speaking. We did meet another who went by 'the Monk'."

"Must be a pious member of the brotherhood." Sarah laughed.

"The Doctor."

"He said, when he was younger, he wanted to make the cosmos better."

"Truth?"

"Cross my hearts." Sarah smiled.

"Tall order."

The door to their cell opened and two Ogrons entered motioning with their guns and grunting.

"What could the Master want now? We've haven't been here all that long."

"Unless he's been driven to use an escape craft."

The Ogron growled and Alan took it to mean "Shut up".

When they reached the Master's "office", the doors slid open to reveal an empty room. "It seems as if our ride has left without us," remarked Sarah Jane.

"My dear Miss Smith, I would never be so callous as to leave you to the hospitality of the Ogrons," the Master said stepping out from behind the cabinet.

Of course! His TARDIS must have a functioning chameleon circuit! "Had to move up the time table, eh?"

"My preparations were completed earlier than expected so we can now depart." He nodded and one of the Ogrons took Sarah by the arm and escorted her to the Master's TARDIS.

At that moment Alan sensed the Doctor's TARDIS and knew they were onboard somewhere. He could have easily teleported there if not for Sarah Jane. He couldn't leave her. He risked communication.

{Guys, I don't have much time. We're both OK but tell the Doctor the Master wants me to access the Ma--}

************************************************

{Alan! Alan, answer me!} Nothing. Ryan knew it would be madness to rush into an unknown situation no matter how much he wanted to get to his brother's side. Due to the abrupt ending of Alan's message, odds were that the Master-whoever he was-caught on that he was in contact with them.

"Alan contacted you?" the Doctor questioned as he followed out of the TARDIS.

"Before he was knocked out," said Shannon.

"The Master has a lot to answer for."

"So it is him."

"The Master is most likely gone. He doesn't have what he wants so he's taken Sarah Jane and Alan in his TARDIS." The Doctor motioned to the door. "Back inside. We should be able to pick up his trail."

"There was one more thing Alan said," began Shannon as the Doctor worked the console controls.

"Right. It was 'tell the Doctor the Master wants me to access the Ma--'"

A look of disbelief washed across the Doctor's face. "He wouldn't."

"What?" questioned Evan. "What's so big that he needs Alan?"

"The Matrix on Gallifrey." He set the TARDIS in motion. "It's the repository of all Time Lord knowledge. The Matrix is part of the Amplified Panatropic Computer Network, which contains the bio-data extracts of all Time Lords as well as the memories of dead ones, storing them in an extradimensional framework of trillions of electrochemical cells. It also receives input from sensors contained in the TARDIS."

"That still doesn't explain why he needs my brother." Ryan was determined to get an explanation he could understand.

The Doctor's voice took on a slightly patronizing tone. "The Matrix is accessed psychically and heavily monitored. Every bioprint is registered so there is no way to bypass it."

"Unless you had a high-level psychic who wasn't registered," said Shannon. "From what you've said, the Master is considered a criminal on your world so alarms would be raised and the moment he 'hooks up'."

"So we just get to Gallifrey and warn your people about the Master's plan. They set a trap and we snag him, freeing Alan and Sarah Jane."

"Sounds like a plan to me," agreed Evan.

"Not a bad plan. I can only find one fault."

He had to find one. "What is that?"

"I am merely tolerated by the High Council. I doubt they'll take anything on my word alone."

"But it won't just be yours, will it? They can't deny it from three others."

"Ryan, humans are not even allowed on Gallifrey. That will be something else against us. I think the fact that you're time travelers should never come up."

"And you couldn't have told us sooner? Gee, thanks, Doc."

"I realize this situation is dire, but there's one thing you must always remember."

"Yeah?"

"Never call me 'Doc.'"

*********************************************************

Sarah Jane looked at Alan as he lay unconscious on the floor where they Ogrons had dumped him. At the time she wasn't sure why the Master had knocked him out. It wasn't long after the Master had them taken into the TARDIS that she realized Alan must have been in contact with the others. She hoped he got a chance to tell them what was going one or at least enough to let the Doctor figure it out.

She sighed. Who would have thought that investigating disappearing scientists would have led her to aliens and time travel? Not that she'd trade it for anything. Traveling with the Doctor put everything in perspective. Well, saving the world would make anything pale in comparison.

Alan groaned and slowly came to. "How long have I been out?"

"Ten minutes maybe. No longer than fifteen.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. "How are you holding up?"

"For being kidnapped by an alien sociopath, not too bad. How's your head?"

"A little tender but I've had worse."

"You did talk to them?"

"I think I gave them enough before I got knocked out."

"I only understood some of the Master's plan and that it revolves around you accessing the Matrix. Do you know what that is?"

"I can only guess. By the name, I would say it's an archive of some sort. Since he needs me, I'd say it needs to be accessed telepathically. My question is since he's a Time Lord with some degree of psi abilities, why does he need me?"

Sarah thought for a moment, paring the situation down to its most basic. "He's a criminal using you as a scapegoat. Any and all blame would fall on you."

"Not a bad theory, Miss Smith, if a little off," came the Master's voice. "When the moment is right, everyone will know it was my doing."

"That is the case with most megalomaniacs. If no one's going to know it was you, it's not worth doing." Alan looked to Sarah. "You don't happen to have a deck of cards on you, do you?"

Alan's nonchalance was very similar to the Doctor's and she couldn't help but smile. She made a show of patting her pockets. "No." She pulled out a small notepad. "This is it."

"Ever the journalist, eh? We could always play 'Hangman'."

At that moment, the name of an innocent child's game suddenly took on sinister overtones.

********************************************************

The Doctor materialized the TARDIS inside the Citadel as close as he could to Borusa's quarters. As he was persona non grata, he wanted as short a run as possible to support. He turned on the scanner. The corridor outside was clear. "We're lucky no one's here yet. Leave your weapons and follow me quietly."

"Why all the secrecy?" asked Ryan as he removed his rifle and pistol. "Can't you just go to the big-wigs and let them know what's going on?"

"I'm more or less tolerated here. You see, I went against one of the prime tenants of Time Lord society." He looked back at Ryan, challenging him to say something sarcastic. The man knew enough to stay silent.

He paused in the hallway listening for following footsteps. "Gallifrey has a strict policy of non-intervention. In the early years of the civilization when we first started with time travel, some were mistaken for gods while others introduced technology into primitive cultures. Both instances lead to the destruction of those cultures."

"Once bitten, twice shy. I've come across that a number of times," said Evan. "It can lead to stagnation if not handled properly.

"You sound like a diplomat," the Doctor commented.

"I should think so as I am one."

"I usually don't get along with diplomats." He stopped in front of Borusa's door and knocked. When no one answered, he turned his attention to the keypad to the side of the door. Now Borusa had always had a bit of an ego so the combination would relate personally to him. What's more personal than his name? The Doctor tried variations on the numbers that corresponded to the letters of his name. The sixth try worked.

"If he's your friend, why did you have to break in?" asked Ryan as he looked about.

"There isn't exactly a key to leave under the mat."

"Or a mat for that matter," remarked Shannon. "Does everyone live like this? It's all very...austere."

"Yes. Not very colorful, is it? Another reason I wanted to get away."

"I don't think I could live like this; no photos, no knick-knacks, nothing personal at all."

"Except for a person," said Ryan, staring at the doorway.

A man who appeared to be in his last 40s or early 50s was standing at the entrance looking as if he had just smelled something horrible. He wore a simple tunic of grey and white over loose grey pants.

"Borusa," the Doctor greeted his teacher and mentor.

"Doctor. I should have realized it was you when the sensors went off." He sat in a chair like it was a throne and gave the Doctor a look that made him feel as if he were back at the Academy.

The Doctor felt the others gather behind him. "Borusa, I need your help."

"Why can't your human friends help you? I know you have an affinity for them but there's no need to share."

The Doctor took a deep breath. "It is because of them that I know what's happening. The Matrix is going to be taken over."

Borusa chuckled. "Really, Doctor. That is impossible. There is no way for anyone to gain access to the Matrix without our knowing, let alone take control of it."

"Excuse me, Borusa, is it? The Doctor brought us here specifically to you believing you would be the one to support us. It seems he was wrong on that count."

The Doctor wondered what Evan was up to. He knew they wouldn't give up.

"If you don't believe your Matrix is in danger, there is another crime. One of your own kind, another Time Lord, has abducted two humans, one of which is my brother. According to the Doctor, non-intervention is one of the prime tenants of your society, a crime for which he was placed on trial. I think abduction falls into the category of interference, don't you?"

The Doctor clapped Evan on the shoulder. "Well done."

"Yes, well argued," agreed Borusa after a moment of stunned silence. "I believe we can get the Council's support for such a crime. We simply do not mention the reason you believe is behind the abduction."

"Thank you, Borusa," the Doctor said warmly.

The members of the TOC chorused the sentiment and followed Borusa as he left for the Council Chamber.

*******************************************************

Alan and Sarah Jane were in the midst of swapping stories when the door opened and the Master stood there. Alan stood and moved in front of Sarah Jane.

"Very noble but unnecessary." The Master beckoned with his hand. "Miss Smith."

Sarah Jane put her hand on Alan's arm. "It's all right."

She walked over to the Master who took her by the arm. He also pointed a slim cylinder at her and Alan knew instinctively it was a weapon. What it did, he didn't know or care. Knowing it could harm her was enough.

"Outside. You go first, Colonel."

Alan followed the Master's directions and led them out of the darkened TARDIS. "That thing better not go off accidentally," he warned. "You will not like the consequences."

"As long as neither you nor Miss Smith gives me a reason to use it. Now, use that lever."

Alan gripped the lever to open the doors and felt that same cowered presence he had before. It was the Master's TARDIS. Well, that just proves that they're individual sentient beings. He released the lever.

"Outside, take the corridor to your left," the Master ordered.

With a smile for Sarah Jane, he turned and made his first step onto the legendary planet of Gallifrey. "Service tunnels. I get a chance to visit the home

of the Time Lords and the first thing I see is service tunnels."

He turned left as the Master directed and walked for nearly ten minutes without seeing another soul. At an intersection a guard in a scarlet and gold uniform confronted them.

"Halt!" the guard ordered as he aimed his weapon.

Alan positioned himself between the guard and the Master knowing the latter wouldn't risk shooting him.

"This is Officer Favar patrolling the lower levels and I've discovered two men and a woman in the restricted area--" His communication was cut off as he was engulfed in a brilliant glow. His body shrank, falling in on itself until it was the size of a small doll.
"I--I'm going to be sick." peeped Sarah.

Alan turned to face the Master, furious. "There was no need to kill him, especially like that! I was going to talk our way out of it!"

"He was reporting our location. I have worked too hard to lose everything now."
Sarah glared at him.

Alan knew this was not the place to make a stand. Underneath that smooth veneer was a very twisted individual. There was no way to could tell what he planned to do. He schooled his anger, waiting for the Master to let his guard down before he would strike. A glance at Sarah Jane told him she understood.

"Go right," the Master directed.

With one last look at the poor guard, Alan continued on. He hoped he had given the others enough information to figure out where he was and to get here in time. As there really was no way of getting out of it, he would just have to delay.

At the end of the hall was a small room verging on the claustrophobic. In the center was something resembling an operating table that could be set ant any angle. Underneath it was a number of electronic instruments that would no doubt measure his brain activity while he was hooked up to the Matrix. There were wires bundled together and bracketed against the wall until they disappeared through the ceiling.

"Make yourself comfortable, Colonel." Still gripping Sarah Jane's arm, the Master motioned to the table.

Alan sat on the table in the center. The metal was surprisingly warm. He settled into a somewhat comfortable position. This whole situation was beginning to look like something from a gothic novel; the damsel in distress, the madman/villain, and the helpless hero.

"If you would please secure him, Miss Smith."

Sarah Jane fastened the wrist and ankle restraints on Alan's left side before crossing to his right. She fastened his ankle first and, as she was closing the metal about his wrist, he looked at her, letting her know this was their chance.

With a thought, he sent the Master's weapon flying across the room. Sarah Jane ran out the door as the Master hesitated. "Don't stop!" Alan yelled after her. Relieved, he smiled.

"Impressive," complimented the Master. "But no matter." He began to apply the leads the Alan's head. "Once I turn this on, you will need to concentrate all your energies on the Matrix leaving yourself physically vulnerable. As another incentive, should you need it, if you take too long to complete your task, you will be considered a liability and eliminated."

***************************************************

The Doctor's argument for the High Council had been going nowhere fast. No matter how valid Evan's points were, he was still human. It wasn't until a report came in from a guard in the sub-levels who had witnessed three intruders and contact was lost that things had changed.

The Castellan was still unwilling to believe that anything was wrong. "Probably just a student prank," he had said.

"Then there should be no problem in taking a few guards down there. If nothing comes of it, you can think of it as exercise."

While the High Council had debated amongst themselves once again, the Doctor went to stand by the TOC who had been allowed inside the Council Chamber but could not speak unless directly addressed. Needless to say, they had not been addressed.

"Doctor, this is madness. We could have prevented that guard's death." Ryan was not one to hold back his opinions.

Borusa had finally won the High Council over and now they were on their way to the poor guard's last location. The corridors formed an intricate pattern that could easily confuse someone unfamiliar with the layout. As the Castellan had pointed out, students were prone to come down here on dares and he had been one of the best in finding his way around. Getting to the guard's location was one of the easier paths.

"Someone's coming," Shannon whispered.

The guards pressed them back against the wall as they took point. A familiar figure came running around the corner and the Doctor felt the majority of his anxiety drain away. "Sarah Jane."

She smiled with relief. "Doctor!" She rushed forward and hugged him.

"Are you all right, Sarah?" he asked her.

"I'm fine. The Master was using me to make sure Alan did what he wanted."

"Is he okay?" asked Shannon.

"He was fine even though the Master had one of the Ogrons knock him out."

"Did he bring the Ogrons with him?" questioned Ryan. "I want to have another go at them."

"No. If he had, I doubt I would have gotten away."

"Do you know where he is now?" demanded Borusa.

Sarah Jane looked at him. "I don't know how you've spent your day, but I was a hostage of a sociopath. When I had the chance to escape, I didn't take the time to note my way. It's not like there are signposts!"

Borusa bristled at Sarah Jane's words. "I still cannot see the attraction these people hold for you or your family."

"That was uncalled for, and I think she has a valid point about the signposts. Can you describe the room, Sarah Jane? It might give us an idea where it is."

"There's only the one way in. It's small and there was a gurney in the center. There were instruments underneath it and wires going up the wall to the ceiling." She looked back at the Doctor. "That's all I can remember. "Of course."

"Of course what?" asked Ryan. "Share with the rest of us."

"The room is underneath the Matrix. He needed proximity in order to tap into the system."

"The important question is do you know how to get us there?"

The Doctor smiled at Evan. "Oh, yes."

***********************************************

Alan felt like he was in free-fall at night without a parachute. He had no idea which way was up as there was no wind. He closed his eyes to fight the vertigo and to help concentrate. None of this is real. My body is lying on that gurney. Since this is in my head, I should be able to control it. He

stopped falling and stood. A good start. Now, as I'm here for research, I'll need a library.

His surroundings shimmered and he found himself in a Victorian-style library with wood paneling, wrought iron rails and spiral staircases with books as far as the eye could see-and quite possibly beyond.

"It has to be vast to hold all this knowledge."

Alan turned to see an old white-haired man in a simple pale blue robe.

"It's not often visitors to the Matrix ask for the library," said a second man, a bit younger and a bit taller than the first. "They think they can do it all themselves."

Alan stood there, mouth open. There was no way he could have created these two. If he had wanted a librarian, she would have been much younger.

"Are you two always here or did I conjure you up?

"This is your first time in the Matrix," the first said with realization. "Not bad, especially for a human."

"Thanks. Look, I need help. There's this nut called the Master."

"The Master? We have heard of this stain on our race.

"We will help you," said the first, puffing himself up.

"Since we are joined in this endeavor, we should introduce ourselves," said the second. I am Charliminiuscent and this is Mortichifilicious."

"Col. Alan Kelly." He held his hand out and they stared at it. "It's a greeting on Earth. You shake hands."

*******************************************

Charliminiuscent held his hand out, mimicking Alan who took it and shook it firmly. Mortichifilicious stuck out his hand, wanting to try the new experience.

Alan shook the proffered hand and then the two Time Lords shook each other's hand.

"I really think we should get back to business," Alan said and the older men dropped their smiles. "How can I delay without letting him know?"

Mortichifilicious walked to one of the shelves. "He is monitoring you, yes?"

"There was equipment around so yeah, I guess so."

"Well, aside from monitoring your vitals, he can monitor your brain activity enough to gauge what you're doing."

"So?"

"So we let him think you're researching, but he won't know what."

"Ah, okay. I think I can handle that." Alan smiled. "Gentlemen, pass me a book."

"This book is unfamiliar to us. It must be from your homeworld."

Alan began delving into the mysteries of Sherlock Holmes.

***************************************************

The Master looked at the time read-out. He couldn't spare much more time before the Doctor discovered his whereabouts. Normally, he would enjoy playing with the Doctor a bit more but he was not willing to risk anything at this point.

He began setting buttons on the banks of monitors. The colonel did have quite a formidable mind and he would hate to damage something he could potentially use again but the man was too moral and honest. Best to eliminate the opposition.

When the circuits overloaded, the energy feedback would fry his delicate human brain. Even if he did survive, Alan Kelly would be an empty shell. "Farewell, Colonel."

The Master entered his TARDIS and set the coordinates for one of his many bolt holes. He was not about to give up his quest for power. He just needed another way to do it.

********************************************

The Doctor remembered the way with only a couple of wrong turns. When he saw the doll-sized guard, he knew they were close.

"What the hell is that?" demanded Ryan.

"It's the guard," Sarah Jane said softly.

"A favorite weapon of the Master's, a tissue compression eliminator."

"Do you think that he--" started Shannon.

"Not while he needed him, no."

They started down what the Doctor knew to be the last corridor.

Evan paused and sniffed. "I don't like the smell of that." He took off running. Ryan and Shannon were on his heels.

The door slid open at their presence and the smoke escaped, assaulting their senses. They all began coughing. The Doctor, thankful for his respitory bypass system, slowly entered the room, vision still impaired.

"Is he here?" asked Ryan between coughs.

The Chancellory Guards entered and began to put out the fire. It wasn't until then that they saw the body on the table.

Borusa approached him. "It seems we are too late."

"Wonder why that is?" Ryan muttered behind them, his face smudged with tears and smoke.

Borusa actually looked ashamed-for a nanosecond. "It appears he has done Gallifrey a great service, sacrificing his life in the process."

"What story are you going to use to cover this up?" demanded the Doctor. "You can't tell everyone they owe their lives to a human, can you?"

"Wait!" Shannon had come to stand by the body. "He's not dead. He's in there somewhere. I can sense it."

"You'll find that's impossible," Borusa replied. "If it wasn't the smoke, the overload to his brain would most certainly have killed him."

"Just shut it." Ryan looked Borusa in the eye. "The Doctor said we had to keep quiet and make nice to get you to help us, but since you haven't, I don't think I need to anymore."

"Impossible is not a word you use lightly when it comes to Alan," said Evan. "Despite what spin you decide to put on this, his current condition needs immediate attention. We can't take the time debating."

"Since it's your fault he's even like this," accused Ryan.

"Yes, you're quite right," the elder Time Lord agreed. "We must get him up to the hospital." He looked at Alan's body on the gurney. "Take him up as he is. We don't want to move him any more than necessary."

"Thank you, Borusa," the Doctor said as he watched the guards gingerly move the table.

"The Master got away, then," said Shannon as she came to stand beside the Doctor.

"He'll be back to try again."

"What was he trying to do?"

"I'm not sure." He looked to Sarah Jane. "Do you remember?"

"I didn't understand most of what he said but I thought it might have to do with a weapon-or at least something he could use as a weapon."

"We'll have to ask Alan when he comes to," said Evan.

If he comes to, thought the Doctor as they left the smoky room.

******************************************************

When the flickering started, Alan wasn't that worried. It wasn't until the jolts of pain to his head began that he had begun to believe something had gone horribly wrong.

Mort and Charlie had seemed to know what was going on. "The Matrix is destroying your mind. He must not have fallen for our ploy." Charlie had been beside himself.

"What can I do?"

"There is one thing," Mort had said hesitantly. "You have to find a safe place in your mind and go there, closing yourself off from everything until it's safe."

Alan had winced as another jolt shot through him. "Kind of like locking myself in a shelter until the bombing is over. How will I know when that is?"

Mort had shrugged which had looked amusing in his robes. "I've no idea. Sorry."

"There's no way I can let them know?"

"If your friends are telepathic as well, they should pick up something to realize you're not dead," Charlie had answered.

"You had better do it now before it's too late," Mort had said.

"Thank you, gentlemen. It's been an honor." With that, he had closed his eyes and disconnected from the Matrix and found himself a small "safe room" in his mind.

Now he could construct this place to fit anything he wanted. After all, he was going to be here for some time. "Might as well be comfortable."

The "room" took on the appearance of his quarters on the Base and he settled back on the couch and turned on the "telly". He could only view his own memories since the whole point was for him to keep to himself. Granted, some of his experiences were the stuff of Hollywood or a BBC period piece.

Once he had finished the "episode" regarding Shakespeare, he knew it was time to go back. It felt right.

He slowly opened the door to the room and stepped outside.

The first thing his senses picked up was Ryan's raised voice. Probably arguing with the Doctor again. Yep, there was the Doctor's voice. Then a third voice argued back. Wait a second. The Doctor and Ryan arguing the same side?

He opened his eyes to see the argument occurring at the foot of his bed. The man arguing with the Doctor and Ryan had to be a Time Lord with those clothes.

Shannon, Evan and Sarah Jane were watching like it was entertainment. He gave Ryan a little push with his mind.

Ryan jerked like he was shoved. No one was close enough to have done it. "OK, who pushed me?"

The others held up their hands to say, "It wasn't me". Alan spoke up with a rusty voice. "I did."

They all turned and he couldn't help but grin at their faces. "Arguing in a hospital room. Is that done?"

"It is when the High Council doesn't want to recognize what you did," said the Doctor with a pointed look at the unknown Time Lord. "It's good to see you're all right," he added with a genuine smile.

"You scared the hell out of us," said Evan.

"We all thought you were dead," Sarah Jane added. "Shannon sensed you somehow."

Alan turned his head to Shannon sitting at the side of the bed. "You did?"

"I just knew you weren't dead. It wasn't wishful thinking. I could just tell you were in there somewhere."

"The Doctor said it was some sort of self-induced coma you did to keep your mind from being fried."

"You have such a way with words, Ryan." Alan sat up and looked at the stranger. "Who are you?"

"Councilor Borusa." He bowed his head. "What you have done here is extremely remarkable. Not only are you the first human to access the Matrix, you also saved your mind by shutting yourself off. I've never seen it done so successfully by a first-timer ever."

"Serious? That's cool."

"However--"

"There's always one of those," muttered the Doctor.

"We cannot let word of this incident get out to the general public. Knowledge of your presence is held only by the High Council and the Chancellory Guard."

"They're saying it was faulty wiring that caused the fire."

"Heaven forbid they find out one of their own had less than favorable intentions," agreed Evan.

Alan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly. Shannon was right there to support him. "Are you mad? You've been unconscious for three days."

"Only three? Okay, I may be a little unsteady but it's not like they don't work. Just help me till I get used to being upright." He paced his feet wide apart and swayed a bit but luckily did not fall flat on his face.

"Can we get out of here now?" asked Ryan. "This prison is getting to me."

"Prison?" questioned Alan.

"We had to stay confined to Borusa's quarters," answered Sarah Jane. "It would have ruined their cover story had we been seen."

Evan and Ryan had already left by the time Alan, Shannon and Sarah Jane reached the Doctor and Borusa. The latter seemed quite pissed, complaining to the Doctor of the lack of manners in humans. "Not even a word of appreciation, they just leave the very moment possible."

Alan stopped. "From my understanding, there was no need for thanks. Nothing happened."

The stunned look on Borusa's face was all Alan needed to see as he walked out.

***************************************************

The TARDIS materialized back at UNIT HQ to be welcomed by the Brigadier. "Nice to see everyone back," the officer said as they exited the police box. "Miss Smith, delighted to see you fared well during your experience."

"I was nothing more than a bit of leverage. It was Alan he wanted."

"Really?" quizzed Lethbridge-Stewart with a raised eyebrow. "That must have been a novel experience."

"For me, not so much." The colonel stepped into the room looking rather worse for wear.

"Was that another instance of you poor attempts at humor?" the Doctor asked as he followed the colonel. "I can never tell."

"I'll admit it's rare. Almost as rare as you being wrong."

The Doctor huffed but didn't bother to argue. "Yes, I made a mistake. Are you happy?"

"Now that you've admitted it in front of witnesses, yes."

Alan grinned.

"Was this your sole purpose for greeting us?" said the Doctor, changing the subject.

"Somehow the media got word of UNIT's involvement and have been nagging us regarding The Competition. They think we're holding you under quarantine. The protests haven't begun, but--"

"A press conference might be a good idea," agreed Evan. "What cover story are you using?"

"Deranged fans," Lethbridge-Stewart responded.

"May I?" he motioned to the phone.

"The operator will connect you."

"Reschedule the concert too," Miss Flynn said. "Honor all tickets."

Evan nodded and gave the UNIT operator the number.

"No agent or manager?" asked Miss Smith.

"Given our circumstances, it's better we do it ourselves," Ryan answered.

"You never did say why you're undertaking this charade?"

"Sorry, Doctor. Classified."

"It's a wee bit of fun, not just an assignment," Shane said with a smile.

"So, can you arrange for a couple of extra tickets? I know this bloke who could do with some exposure to modern culture."

"If that bloke's who I think he is, Sarah, I think we can squeeze out some seats for some VIPs."

The Doctor frowned. He also knew who that bloke was. Oh, well. Can't listen to opera all the time. Used to have fondness for the Beatles. I just hope they don't sing like time agents.

*********************************************

The Master's TARDIS lurched and he nearly fell to the floor. "Behave yourself, you bucket of bolts, or you're for the scrapheap." He worked the controls to steady it. Sparks flew as it fought him. What's wrong with this thing? It's never gone against me.

A picture of Kelly flashed into his mind. That blasted human has turned my ship against me! Somehow he knew the ship was doing this with the last vestiges of its energy. The Master tried furiously to change to coordinates but they were locked onto the Planet Tersurus.

>Next in Series

The Eagle Chronicles 30: (Meets Nick)

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 02:30:48 GMT

Title: (Meets Nick)
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 5382
Summary Steven goes on a TV talk show and joins up with a former con-man after his car is stolen
Notes: The majority of this series was written over 20 years ago and I like to think that my style has improved since then. I've been told that I should probably edit them before I post like this but I can't edit myself. To me it looks fine. If you see a section that needs work, please tell me! ALso, I never really got around to getting a real title for this so if you come up with anything, please let me know!

30. (Meets Nick)

January 1961

Steven Taylor read the letter again. It requested his presence at the BBC Studio for an interview. He had granted the request a month ago because the topic of discussion was one that interested him: crime and criminals. They also planned to have another former criminal who had gone straight. Steven didn't know his name, but was curious as to what he was like.

He picked out his favorite suit to wear then looked through an old scrapbook to refresh his memory. He, of course, knew what he had done, but he wanted to remember what the press had said about him.

The next day he went to the studio in his red Alvis convertible. He showed up two hours before the broadcast to get used to his surroundings; he hadn't given a forma interview in years. He also wanted to meet the other man involved.

The director spotted him and came over. "Ah, your Grace, we weren't expecting you for another hour. The set isn't even ready."

"I only came here to get a feel of the place. Formal interviews aren't a favorite thing of mine. I avoid them as much as possible. This seemed so different, I had to give it a go."

The director seemed confused. "Well, certainly, your Grace. The studio is at your disposal. I want to do the run-through in an hour, so if you could be back in good time. . ."

Steven walked through the halls and encountered stares, smiles, and a few autograph hounds. He went to the commissary and ordered a cup of tea. "It's on me, your Grace," the clerk said as Steven reached for his wallet. "Are you taking a tour of the studios?"

"Self-guided. I'm giving an interview and I have to be back in the studio in," he looked at his watch, "twenty minutes."

"Well, good luck, sir. I'll be sure to watch."

As Steven went to a small table to sit down, he was bumped into by a young man with brown hair. "I'm so sorry. I must have tripped." He looked at his face. "You're the duke of Edinburgh, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then I'm doubly sorry. Please forgive me. I can be such a klutz."

"Think nothing of it. No bones broken."

The man shook his hand. "Thank you very much, your Grace. I'm so sorry." He left the commissary."

Steven finished his tea then headed back to the studio. The director and the interviewer were on the set talking with a third man he couldn't see. He approached and they turned to face him. The third man turned out to be the klutz from the commissary. "Your Grace, you're back. I'd like you to meet Neville Hastings who will be the conducting the interview. This is Nicholas Adamson who will also be taking part in this evening's discussion."

"We've met," said Steven.

The director seemed surprised. "In the commissary," clarified Nicholas.

"Oh, well. Let's do that run-through, if you don't mind. We need to figure out camera angles."

"Fine," said Hastings.

The practice discussion went well. They only talked lightly of what the main interview would touch on. Nick and Steven talked about their background. Nick was the oldest of five children, became a pickpocket during the Blitz, haunting the Underground waiting for the proper mark. He graduated to running cons after he ran away from home. He ran risks of life and limb all the time trying to go straight-- and failing. He finally overcame the temptation to play upon someone's gullibility but still kept his fingers nimble.

When the time for the real interview arrived, they were all relaxed and ready to begin. Hastings decided to start the discussion by asking Steven what made him decide to become a thief and how things were at the time.

"There was really honor among thieves. The group I was with in Connecticut actually became upset with me because I was such a loner and refused to work with anyone. The leaders told me I had to leave. Because they knew who I was, I left for London. The group there let me do things on my own as long as it didn't reflect badly back on them."

"But what made you wish to become a thief?"

"In New York before the war started, both extremes of living could be seen. I got fed up with that and decided it was unfair, so I stole to even things out."

Neville turned his questioning to Nick. "Was it easy for you to start?"

"I think it was continuing a family tradition. In the East End, it was a way of life. I wanted to get out of the rut I was in so I moved to Soho. One thing I accidentally became involved in was the death of Edmund Newbury. I tried to go straight then, but it wasn't easy."

"What do you think about the changes in crime?"

"Everything is so harsh now, there's more violence. All the subtlety is gone. I guess it's because the world is changing."

"Scamming and conning is on the downslide," said Nick. "Now it's robbery, theft, and even murder."

Neville asked them to give a demonstration for people so they would know how to avoid pickpockets. "You certainly must know the many ways that a pocket can be picked."

Both Steven and Nick smiled. "The ploy most often used is one that can be done solo," said Nick. "This is when a person bumps into you and, while brushing off your jacket and otherwise help straighten you out, the fingers reach in and take your wallet, like this." He put his hand to his pocket but couldn't find what he was looking for.

Steven pulled out a wallet. "Like this."

Hastings enlightened the audience by telling them that both Steven and Nick had been asked to pick the others pocket before the show and then reveal how they did it. He asked Steven to explain.

"It's true Mr. Adamson had picked my pocket the way he described. He had the advantage of me by knowing who I was. I had no idea my pocket had been picked until I met him in the studio. I retrieved my wallet by the same means. This demonstration proves we are not infallible." He tossed Nick his wallet.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for a very enlightening evening. Tonight has been a pleasure," said Neville as he shook their hands. "Maybe we can do a second show."

**************************************************

Steven was walking to the car park when Nicholas caught up with him. "I was wondering, your Grace, if you would like to join me for a drink?"

"You're not planning anything, are you?"

"Oh, no, your Grace, this is just an invitation for a friendly drink. I know of this comfy pub in Soho."

"Mr. Adamson--"

"Nick."

"Nick, the first time I saw you, you picked my pocket, and now you want me to go drinking with you."

"But that was just for the show. I was petrified knowing I had to do that."

"You're just trying to flatter me."

"I mean it. Won't you say you'll join me, your Grace?"

"Steven."

"Okay. Steven?"

"All right, you've won me over. If we're going to Soho, we'll take my car. You didn't bring one, did you?"

"No, I took the Tube." Nick looked around. "Where is it?"

"It should be right. . .there." Steven's classic convertible had disappeared. "It's gone! Somebody stole my car!"

"Are you sure this is where you parked it?"

"Of course I'm sure." He took three deep breaths. "We'll have to take a taxi to the Yard to report this."

"The Yard?" Nick was hesitant. "That's not one of my favorite places."

"We have to go. Don't worry. You're a confessed pickpocket--" Nick glared at him. "Sorry, a confessed con-artist. You didn't confess any crime in particular so they have no reason to arrest you."

"If you say so. Maybe afterwards we can still have that drink. I think I'll need it."

******************************************************

When they reached Scotland Yard, Steven walked as if he knew exactly where he was going. Nick followed closely, glancing nervously about him. Finally, Steven stopped in front of a door that bore the sign Superintendent John Dolittle. "Is this what they mean about friends in high places?"

"Don't worry. He started out as a safecracker. I met him during the war." Steven knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a voice. Steven entered and shook hands with a man who looked to be in his mid-forties with brown hair and eyes. "Hello, Steven. Heard you on the radio--no TV around here." He looked at Nick. "You must be Mr. Adamson." He held out his hand. "John Dolittle. Please, sit down. Now, what brings you here?"

"My car was stolen," Steven said slowly and succinctly.

"That's bad luck. When did it happen?"

"When I was at the studio. Nick and I walked out, planning to go for a drink, and saw it was missing."

"They certainly knew you wouldn't be right back," Dolittle mused. "I'll put Inspector Thompson on it."

"Thompson's an inspector?"

"When I got promoted, so did he. I don't think there will be anything to do until tomorrow."

Nick spoke up. "Excuse me, but I think the leads would be fresher now because (a) it was taken from the BBC lot during the height of traffic, and (b) that car is easily recognizable as Steven's, so if the driver wasn't him, people would notice."

"Good thinking, but, as I said, I don't think Thompson would get much."

"Then we'll do it," said Nick.

Dolittle looked at Steven who shrugged. "You heard what the man said. I'll call you tomorrow."

Steven followed Nick out of Dolittle's office. "We might as well go back to the BBC and start asking questions."

"How are we going to get there? We have so many options."

"Narrow it down by speed and finance. The Tube is definitely the fastest and cheapest in my mind. We'll just have people staring and possibly a few questions. What do you think?"

"They won't be staring at me--except those who saw the show. I'm with you."

They proceeded from Scotland Yard to Victoria Station and took the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus. From there they walked up Regent Street to Portland Place. They entered the car park. There weren't that many people left in the lot. "Keep an eye out," said Steven. "I'm going to question the attendant."

Nick shrugged. "You're in charge."

Steven went to the cubicle that was the attendant's office. "Excuse me, but how long have you been on duty?"

The man who came to the window stared at his distinguished guest. "Your Grace?"

"I said, how long have you been on duty?"

"I came on at 8:00, I remember because you were just coming on."

"Then you remember the people who came in and out?"

"Yes, your Grace, I had to check their passes."

"Did you recognize them?"

"There were some writers, producers, and interviewers."

"Now comes the important question; did you see who took my car?"

"Your car, your Grace? No, I didn't see it at all. Has someone stolen it?"

"Would he be asking you otherwise?" interposed Nick.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye out."

"You did, your Grace, but I wanted to see what was keeping you," Nick said with thinly disguised sarcasm. "It's obvious this poor soul knows nothing. You must admit you gave them ample time to take it." He turned to the attendant. "Where can we find the man who was here before you?"

"I don't know. You'll have to check with Personnel for his address."

"Thanks."

"Anything to help, your Grace." The man stuck his head out the window as they walked towards the main entrance.

At the front desk they were stopped and asked their business. "We'd like to see someone in Personnel, please," said Nick.

"There's no one there at this time of night, sir. They all leave at 6:00."

"Thank you very much."

The man looked at him closer. "You were on telly tonight, weren't you?" He answered his own question. "Yes, you were. You were interviewed with the duke of Edinburgh."

"Oh, yeah." Nick was embarrassed.

"Can I have your autograph, then?" Nick grudgingly obliged.

"Perhaps you can help us," said Steven coming forward. The desk clerk turned and saw him. His jaw dropped. "We need the address of one of your employees."

"Ah, let me see if I can locate someone who can help you."

Fifteen minutes later they were talking to a minor executive. "I was just going out the door. What exactly do you want to know?"

"We need the address of one of your lot attendants," said Steven.

The executive couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Could you repeat that, please?"

"He's not crazy, if that's what you think," said Nick. "It's just that his car was stolen from the car park and we want to ask the attendant who was on duty a few questions."

"I see." He checked a schedule from a clipboard hanging on the wall. "That would be Mick Johnson." He then went to a cabinet and pulled out Johnson's file. "15 Devonia Road, Flat 3, Islington."

"Thank you for your help," said Steven, rising from his seat.

"Yeah, thanks," said Nick.

"Would you like me to call a car for you, your Grace?"

"No, thank you. I'll be traveling with Mr. Adamson."

In the hall, Nick asked, "You're actually going to take the Tube again?"

"No, I'm going to call a friend." He spotted a pay phone.

"When are you going to see Mick Johnson?"

"Tomorrow morning, before his shift. Why, do you want to go, too?"

"If you don't mind."

" 'Course not." He spoke into the phone. "Hello, Tris. Yeah, I know. Listen, can you do me a favor? I need a lift. No, it was stolen. If I knew who, would I be talking to you? I'm at the BBC Portland Place. Fifteen minutes? Great." He hung up the phone and looked back at Nick. "How about that drink?"

*****************************************************

Across the Thames in a garage in Lambeth two men were getting yelled at. "You idiots! Do you realize whose car you've stolen?" The two men stared dumbly at him. "Well?"

"It looked like it would bring in a couple hundred thousand. . ." said the first man.

" 'Course it would. It's the only one of its kind in thee country. Christ, it belongs to Edinburgh!"

The second man could not believe what he heard. "We nicked a royal car?"

"Do you imbeciles know what this means? Our operation is in jeopardy. The man is part bloodhound and won't give up until he finds it."

"Well, if we take the stuff out and leave it on the Heath, that would keep him away from here," said Number One.

"It just might work. Okay, take the long way 'round and keep off the main roads." As the men were unloading the packets, the office phone rang. "Yes, Boss, I've already yelled at them about it. Oh, they're safe. The boys are going to dump it in Hampstead." He listened carefully. "Shall we kill him? Yes, sir." The man replaced the receiver and smiled.

********************************************************

After dropping Nick off in Soho, Tristan Forbes and Steven arrived at the St. James townhouse they shared. Tris was Steven's "associate" and had been for three years. He still hadn't gotten used to Steven's knack of finding trouble. "So what's the deal with the car?" he asked.

"It was stolen from the BBC car park. Nick and I found out the name and address of the attendant who was on duty. Plan to visit tomorrow morning."

"Nick. He seemed quite a character. From what I saw the interview, he's quite a talker."

"The sign of a good con artist. I was like that in my better days."

"I'm sure you were."

The phone rang and Steven answered it. "Oh, hi, John. What was that?" Steven listened carefully to what Dolittle had to say. "Okay. I'll be here if you hear anything further." He replaced the receiver.

"What did he have to say?" Tris knew it was important.

"He said that the car was spotted over in Lambeth."

"Lambeth? What does he think it is?"

"Joyriders, most probably. He said he'd keep us posted." He sat down on the couch. "This has been one long night."

"Why don't you try and get some sleep? I'll wake you if Dolittle calls."

Steven yawned. "Sounds like a good idea. I'll sleep right here. The way I feel, I'll be off in seconds."

**********************************************************

Steven heard his name and was instantly awake. "What is it?"

"They've found the car in Hampstead. No worse for wear, they say."

Steven stretched. "Okay, let's go."

Tris was reluctant. "Surely the police can handle it. It's only a car." He regretted saying that once it passed his lips.

"Just a car? You know how much that car means to me. That car was given--"

"To you by Churchill himself. I know." He tossed Steven his keys. "You drive, I'm bushed."

Steven headed for Soho. He remembered how Nick said he wanted to be in on this. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Nicholas Adamson. Sometimes he tried too hard to get into his good graces and at others he had to twist his arm to get a word out. All in all, he seemed all right.

He pulled into Sutton Row and ran up the steps of #5. He checked the mailboxes. flat C on the top floor. He went inside and upstairs then pounded on the door. No answer. He didn't want to yell and wake up the whole building, so he took out his trusty picklock and opened the door. The flat was nicely decorated but he didn't have time for a good look. He went into the bedroom and sat at the edge of Nick's bed. He shook his leg. Nick murmured something. "C'mon, Nick, time to rise 'n' shine."

Nick sat up. "Wha'?" His eyes focused on Steven. "How'd you get in?"

"You shouldn't have to ask." He stood. "They found my car in Hampstead. I thought you might want to join us."

"Sure. Give me five minutes."

The trio arrived at the Heath just as the sun was rising. Steven's pride and joy was parked on one of the main streets lining the Heath. He ran up to the convertible and began to inspect it for any scratches, dents, rips, or tears it might have incurred.

"You won't find anything wrong with it," said Dolittle, walking up to him. "We've checked it."

Nick laid an appreciative hand on the bonnet. "So this is the famed Alvis known far and wide. That's probably why they ditched it here."

"Maybe, but it's a long haul from Lambeth," said Tris.

"If they live down there, they left it here to keep suspicion away from Lambeth," Steven answered.

"I don't think they were your ordinary joyriders. We found a little something in the boot." Dolittle waved his hand and a constable came over and handed him a packet. In turn, he handed it to Steven.

The packet was white powder wrapped in plastic. Steven opened the packet, stuck in his finger, then tasted it. "Cocaine," he stated simply. "They used my car for smuggling cocaine."

Dolittle took the packet back. "It seems I was right about you. Even when you're not involved, you're involved."

"Thanks, John. Do you have a theory, an explanation?" Steven asked as he sat on the bonnet of his car. "If so, please enlighten us."

Dolittle smiled at Steven's agitation. "If you want to hear it."

"Can we hear it someplace warmer?" asked Nick. "I've lost all feeling in my toes."

"There's a café nearby. That should be the ideal place."

"Will it be open?" questioned Tris.

"It opens early for the early shift."

"Let's quit all this talking and go," said Steven as he climbed into his car. Nick joined him. Tris drove his own car.

"You'll need these," Dolittle said, throwing Steven the keys. "You can follow me. It's not far."

During the drive to the cafe, Nick praised the Alvis. "For twenty years, this car has served you and it still looks like new. Just think of the workmanship."

Steven smiled. "It's the only model still on the road."

"I remember seeing you in the East End when I was younger. There was definitely no mistaking it."

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty, last October."

"Tris just turned thirty as well. It's only a ten-year difference."

"Looks like we're here."

Steven parked the car next to Dolittle's. As he was taking the key out of the ignition, he suddenly stopped. "That's it."

"What's it?" asked Nick, who was halfway out of the car.

"That's why they left the car. You said yourself that there was no mistaking it. When they realized whose car they had, they had to leave it."

"Yeah, but why take it in the first place?"

"Maybe that's part of John's theory."

Tris chose a corner booth and Dolittle ordered the tea. He came back with teapot, four cups, cream, sugar, and cinnamon buns. He poured.

Nick took a sip. "Earl Grey. How fashionable."

"You're movin' in high circles now," remarked Tris with a smile.

"Oh, John, you remembered," Steven said, fluttering his eyelids like a coquette. "How sweet. Now tell us this theory of yours."

"Let's say that the thieves, loaded with their coke, need fast, immediate transportation. They try cars and find yours is the easiest to hot wire. Because of their rush, they don't realize whose car they've stolen. They take their stash to their hideout Lambeth-way. Once they've had the chance to see the car, they know they have to get rid of it, the further away, the better."

"Hampstead," said Tris.

"Hampstead," agreed John.

"Given time, I would have thought of that," said Nick.

Steven rolled his eyes. "Good, but sometimes you don't have the time."

*************************************************************

"I've just finished counting, boys, and you're one short." He looked down at the two men. "You'd better have a good explanation. Number One is planning to stop here."

The two men looked at each other, fearing what happened to the packet. "You don't think . . ?"

"What are you mumbling about?"

"It's like this, Mr. Davies. One might have fallen into the boot of Edinburgh's car."

"What? You mean he has a packet of our coke in his possession? That means the Yard has it. You've really loused this one, haven't you? You know who has to answer to Number One, don't you? Me. And whatever he does to me, you'll get twice as bad." He looked at the two men. "Go get yourselves something to eat. I don't want you here when he shows." A door slammed. "Hurry. Out the back." The two men left.

"Mr. Davies?"

"In the office sir."

A tall, youthful man entered the room. He was dressed like an executive in a grey suit and tie. "This is our income-to-be, Mr. Davies?" he remarked, noticing the packets on the desk.

"Yes, sir. There is one hitch, however. The boys lost one of them."

"Lost one? Are you sure they didn't take one for personal use?"

"They wouldn't dare cross you, sir. No, it seems they had car trouble and had to improvise. A packet must have fallen into the boot."

"I know whose car they stole, Mr. Davies. Your men must be rejects from a mental institution. That car is so well-known that any three-year-old could point it out on the street."

"So I've told them."

"You can also tell them that someone might have seen them take it; the car-park attendant. Stuart and some other man plan to visit him this morning. I want your men to get there first." He looked at his watch. "I have to be going. Here's the address. Good day, Mr. Davies."

After the man had left, Davies called the other men out. "It seems you boys have another job."

"We heard. What do you want us to do?"

"Prevent him from talking," Davies said simply.

"Yes, sir." They left.

"We'll prevent his Grace from ruining this scheme."

*************************************************

"I'd love to sit and chat," said John, looking at his watch, "but I have to get back to the yard."

"Will you need the car, or can I have it back now?"

"It's all yours. We'll know where it is if we need it. Forensics has already gone over it."

"I have to be going, too," said Tris. "I have to catch up on some sleep before work."

"You have a job now?" asked Dolittle, who had known Tris as a constable.

"Since I know your question was not heartfelt, I find no need to tell you. At least I no longer work for you." He turned to Steven. "See you later." He left.

Dolittle looked at Steven and Nick who tried to hide their smiled. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," said Nick quickly.

"You must admit, John, he doesn't have to tell you a thing. However, as a superintendent, I'm sure you have ways to find out what it is."

"You think I'm going to waste the Yard's time and personnel to sniff out what an ex-constable does for a living?"

"No, I think you can handle it yourself."

John knew that he had lost the argument so he took his leave.

Nick watched him go. "Has he always been like that?"

"Not always. I think responsibility might have something to do with it." He pulled out his wallet to pay the bill.

"Now what?" Nick asked.

Steven looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Either you're going to drive me home or we're going to visit the parking attendant."

"So you really want to join me on this escapade?"

"Of course. Dope smuggling has added a bit of intrigue."

Steven smiled. "This could turn out to be fun."

*************************************************************

They arrived at 15 Devonia Rd on the milkman's coattails. Steven buzzed the doorbell and there was no answer. "Try a again," prompted Nick. "After all, it is early."

Steven did. "Something is not quite right. You'd think that with an afternoon shift, he'd be up to get things done." With a cautious glance down the street, Steven bent over the lock and inserted his pick. Nick looked on in admiration.

They went upstairs to #3 and knocked on he door. Again, no answer. This only deepened Steven's apprehension. He prepared to pick the lock. When he touched the knob, however, the door opened. He looked at Nick who merely shrugged. Steven slowly pushed the door open and was greeted by an overturned room.

"It looks as if someone's already had a chat with Mick Johnson," said Nick, looking over the room.

"And they've prevented anyone else from doing so," said Steven from the bedroom.

Nick joined him and saw Mick Johnson lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, a small red circle on his chest. "A dead end." Steven looked at him in disgust. "Sorry, didn't mean it that way."

"I know. This means just the opposite, though. Someone didn't want us to talk to him." Steven went to the phone in the living room. "Superintendent Dolittle, please. Yes, I'll hold."

A tired John Dolittle came on the line. "Dolittle here."

"John, it's me."

"Steven, I was just going home for some well-deserved sleep. What now? Did we miss reporting a dent? You want us to pay for the petrol? Next thing you'll be saying is that you've found a dead body in the boot."

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"We found it in the bedroom, actually. I'll fill you in when you get here. 15 Devonian Rd #3." He hung up the phone before John could say anything else. "Well, we have about twenty minutes before the police arrive. Let's see what we can find."

"You're one smooth character. You get the bedroom."

They searched the flat but could find absolutely nothing. The murderer obviously forced his way in and challenged Johnson in the bedroom. He must not have been pleased by Johnson's answers and killed him. He then ransacked the room to make it look like a burglary.

Dolittle and the police arrived within the half-hour. The scene-of-the-crime men took photographs from every angle. Constables scoured for clues and the medical examiner looked over the body. He concluded that the man was stabbed in the heart some time between 6:00 and 7:00am.

Dolittle sat across from Steven in the kitchen. "What are you doing in Islington? Last time I saw you was in a café in Hampstead, oh, so long ago."

"Mick Johnson was the car-park attendant on duty when my car was stolen."

"How did you find out about him?"

"Personnel records at the BBC," Steven said as if it were the obvious answer.

"And?" Dolittle prompted.

"We thought we'd talk to him to see if he had seen anything. Unfortunately, someone got here first."

"Did anybody know you were going to be here?"

"No."

"Then the thieves were acting on their own in coming here."

"I guess so." Steven rubbed his left eye. "Do you need us any longer?"

Dolittle noticed how weary he looked. "No, I don't think so." He looked at Nick and nodded his head in Steven's direction as if to say Keep an eye on him. "I'll stop by later if I can."

"Okay." Steven stifled a yawn. Once outside and on the stairs, he picked up his pace. "Hope you have nothing pressing," he said to Nick as he got behind the wheel.

"Nope, not a thing." He laughed to himself at how easily Steven had lied to Dolittle. "Why? Where are we going?"

"My place. We need to plan."

*************************************************

Later that afternoon, Nick was roaming the streets of Lambeth to find where Steven's car had been taken. The idea was simple. He would pose as a journalist writing an article on unique and classic cars. He would ask people who lived in the area if they had noticed a red sports car in the vicinity.

He had narrowed it down to the streets between Waterloo Station and the Lambeth North Underground. His feet were aching and his hands were cold. Up ahead he saw a pub. "A warm place. Thank God." Nick made his way to the bar. "Pint o' bitter." He rubbed his hands together. "A bit nippy out there," he said to his neighbor. He took a long sip from his beer. "I was wondering if you could help me," he asked the bartender.

"Sure. Ain't got much else to do."

"I'm writing an article on classic cars and I had a report that one was seen in this area." He described Steven's car. "It'll be my neck if I don't get this."

"Lemme think. Yeah, I saw one like that last night pull into the garage down the street. It looked a lot like the duke o' Edinburgh's car."

"Fantastic! You don't know what this means to me." He paid for the pint and moved to a table to think things out. The best plan of action, he decided, was to call Steven and tell him what was going on. "Where's the phone?"

"Down in back," the bartender told him.

"Thanks." Nick dug in his pockets for the proper change. He also reached for the paper that had Steven's number on it. There was no answer. That decided him. He thanked the bartender and stepped out into the cold to go to the garage.

************************************************

Steven drove to the BBC to talk with anyone who might have noticed something different. There had to be a reason why the BBC car park was used as the drop site. This meant talking to janitors, secretaries, personalities, and executives. He parked his car and paid the attendant extra to keep a close eye on it. He turned to walk away, but returned to the attendant. "Did you notice anything unusual during the past few days?"

The attendant looked at him almost in awe. "Does this have to do with a case, your Grace?"

"Let's just say I'm doing some research."

The man thought. "No, nothing. One doesn't see much excitement in a car park."

That's what Mick Johnson must have thought. "Okay. Thanks for your help."

He walked in to Reception. "May I help you, your Grace?" asked the young woman behind the desk.

"Yes. I'd like to conduct a few enquiries."

"Any particular section?"

"No. Pretty much everywhere."

"Let me just fill out this pass for you," she said as she typed in the information. "This will allow you to go practically everywhere, except for places marked No Admittance."

"Thank you, very much," he said as she clipped the pass onto his jacket. "You'll see me when I leave." He walked away.

The receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. "You wanted to know if his Grace came to ask questions? Well, he just showed up. I gave him a pass. What else could I do?"

Steven roamed the BBC halls and witnessed the shooting of some shows. Everyone seemed to take his presence for granted. In such a tight gathering of people, word spreads, so they must have known his reason as well. No one seemed to have noticed anything unusual. Everything he was told leaned towards gossip. One piece that he filed away in his mind was that a minor executive was fired due to drug use. It was hushed-up, of course, the public was told his dismissal was due to "irreconcilable differences".

Steven then found himself outside the executive offices. "Maybe I was meant to dig up dirt on this guy."

He entered the first office and the secretary looked up from her desk. "Oh, my." She buzzed her boss. "You had better come out here, sir."

The inner door opened and a man in his forties entered the room. "What is it, Jennifer?" He then saw Steven. "Your Grace, how can I help you?"

"I'd just like to ask a few questions about Ben Jordan."

"Of course. Hold all my calls, Jen. Right this way, your Grace."

Steven followed Jason Gash into his office. "I've been hearing nasty rumors about his dismissal."

"I'm sure they weren't far from the truth. The poor guy was so deep into drugs, he couldn't do his job right, and it was good-bye."

"That explains some of the programming," Steven cracked. "Sorry."

"That's only half of it. Some say that Jeremy Rice was the one that got him hooked."

"Jeremy Rice? Who's he?"

"One of the execs in programming. A high roller. It wouldn't surprise me if it were true."

"Is he here now?"

"He should be." He looked at his watch. "Unless, of course, he's taken a long lunch."

"I'll take that choice." Steven left Gash's office. It looked as if he had found the drug dealer.

******************************************************

Nick looked into the open garage but saw no one. He did, however, see a phone and tried Steven's number again. Still no answer. As he was putting down the receiver, he heard voices talking about drugs, car theft, and murder. He definitely had the right place. To keep from being seen before he was ready, Nick exited then re-entered, calling for help.

Two men came out. "What can we do for you, sir?"

"My car ran out of petrol just a few streets away. I was wondering if I could buy a container of it."

"How much will you be needing?"

"A few gallons, I guess. However much I can carry."

"I'll go out to the pump. You can keep warm in here."

Nick thanked him and loosened his jacket. He noticed a man in the office looking his way. He hoped he hadn't watched the BBC. If these were the men who peddled the drugs and killed Johnson, another death wouldn't matter, even if it was just an ex-thief who was too nosy. Nick turned to the other mechanic who was working under a car. "Cold day, isn't it?"

"Mmmm," he grunted. The phone rang and he slid out on his dolly, stood, and answered it. "Yes, sir," he said with a glance at Nick. "At once, sir." He hung up the phone.

The first man arrived with the petrol. "Here you are, sir."

"Thanks." Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet to pay him. As he did so, he noticed that the first nodded towards the office. "You'll have to break a fiver. I don't have anything smaller."

"I'll be right back."

"Don't hurry on my account." Nick watched him leave.

The mechanic standing behind him raised a spanner and brought it down on his head. Nick fell to the floor. "Pleasant dreams, Mr. Adamson."

***********************************************************

Steven was ushered into Jeremy Rice's office. He was on the phone which gave Steven ample time to observe. He was on the lean side with chiseled facial features, hazel eyes, and brown hair. He glanced in Steven's direction and waved him to a seat. "Fine," he said, "I'll get on it right away." He replaced the receiver and turned to Steven. "What an unexpected pleasure, your Grace. What can I do for you?"

"I'd just like to ask a few questions."

"Sure. Planning a follow-up show?"

"Maybe. As you may have heard, my car was stolen from the car park last night. We did find it, but we have no idea of who took it or why. So I'm here asking everyone questions. Your name has continually come up connected with Jason Gash."

"Poor Jason. But what has this to do with your car?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you a packet of cocaine was found in the boot."

"What a story this will make for a show." He moved to a connecting door and knocked. It was opened by a stocky built man with a nasty scar on his forehead. "Unfortunately, no one will ever see it." He turned to the man in the doorway. "You will escort his Grace to the others. I'll join you in a couple of hours."

"BBC not paying enough?" Steven stood unaided and preceded his escort out the door. "Maybe ITV will be interested in the documentary."

Once inside the waiting car, Steven was blindfolded. He was beginning to feel like the hero in some penny dreadful. His ears told him that they had crossed the Thames and it was then that he remembered his car had been seen in Lambeth. God, that's where Nick went! Rice was clever; he had to know about Nick.

*************************************************************

Nick was tied up in the garage storeroom waiting for them to decide what to do with him. His head ached and he had lost all feeling in his arms. "Thought you could talk yourself out of anything, Adamson? What happened? Has your silver tongue tarnished from lack of use?" he berated himself. "No, it was accepting the TV offer. How can you expect to con properly when you're on sets across the country?" He stopped when the door opened. He squinted into the light. There were two people there. "Okay, get it over with," he told them. "I'm ready."

"Don't worry, they're not."

"Steven? What happened? How did they get you?"

"He was a bit too clever for his own good," said Mr. Davies as he tied Steven to a chair. "When Mr. Rice gets here, we'll carry out the corresponding punishment. Make the most of your remaining minutes."

After he left, Nick asked, "What happened? Tell me everything."

"It seems that Mr. Rice is Mr. Big. I only stumbled onto it from rumors about a young programming exec who was dismissed for drug use. Rice got him hooked."

"So you confronted him and he brought you here. God, what a set-up. I mean, there are people continuously moving in and out of there. Just think of the money he must make."

"I'm just surprised he hasn't been caught."

"Unlike us. How the hell are we going to get out of this? It's very unlikely that they're going to let us go, considering we can prove they killed Johnson. I hate to say it, but things were a lot quieter before I met you."

"This from the man who tried to con one of the biggest Christmas charities in the country and also found the murderer of an MP."

"How did you know about that? I made sure that my picture was never taken."

"I was there. Incognito, of course." Steven wriggled in his seat. "As for getting out of here, the first part is almost done." He freed his hands.

"How did you do that?"

"It's all in the placement of your hands as you're being tied," he explained to Nick as he undid the rope. "See what you can grab off the shelves. We might have to knock a few heads before we get out of here."

Nick found two crowbars and handed one to Steven. He then hid behind the door and waited as Steven called one of the mechanics. When he entered, Nick hit him on the head then dragged him to one of the chairs and tied him up. Knowing the second would come looking, he hid behind the door and repeated the process.

"You handle a crowbar quite well," Steven told him. "Maybe you should give lessons."

"Thank you, no. What about Davies?"

"We bring him with us. C'mon." He left the room.

"Of course, I should have known," Nick said, following.

Steven opened the door to the office and smiled at Mr. Davies. "We're going for a ride, Davies. Then you are going to tell a lovely story to a Mr. Dolittle. Now, move away from the desk. I want no mistakes made. Search him," he directed Nick. Nick did so and discovered a gun in the man's jacket pocket. "Naught, naughty, Mr. Davies. Which car can we take? Answer truthfully. Remember, we have the gun."

Davies looked nervously at the both of them, taking in the gun in Nick's hand. "The blue sedan. The keys are in it."

"Okay. Grab your coat and off we go."

********************************************************

Steven and Nick dropped Davies off at Scotland yard telling Dolittle where to find the other two. "We have a little business to attend to. Have someone waiting at the garage. We'll bring Mr. Big to you there." They left before Dolittle had time to argue.

"Where do you think you're going?" Nick called to him as he walked down the street. "It would be helpful if you told me. That way I could at least try to talk you out of it."

"Victoria Station. We're going to the BBC, remember?"

Nick followed, led by his curiosity.

Arriving at Victoria, Steven did not enter the Underground, but walked up to a waiting taxi and tapped on the driver's window. The cabbie rolled down the window. "Good afternoon. I was wondering if you could settle an argument for us. We were discussing how much it would cost to rent a cab for a few hours. I say it would be paid in a lump sum according to time, while my friend said it would be according to fare."

"You're friend is right, guv. It's according to the fare, 'cos the meter don't always agree with the clock, if you get my meaning. Hey, what're you doing?"

Steven had opened the door and was helping the man out. "We need your cab to get to the BBC. The thing is, we don't need you."

"Is it gonna be on telly?"

"Right. We will keep the meter running, and if you come to this address, say, 8:00 tonight, we'll pay you for it." He handed the driver his card. "Okay, Nick. Climb in."

"You know, I'm glad you never tell me things before we do them. Otherwise, I'd be too nervous to carry it out," Nick said, driving.

"There's nothing to worry abut. It's a very simple plan. You will drive Mr. Price to the garage. He's never seen you, but to be safe, you have a cap and glasses. I'll be following at a safe distance and Dolittle will be waiting there. Okay?"

Nick nodded, wondering why he ever asked Steven for a drink.

Steven got out unseen and walked to the car park. He paid the attendant then waited for Rice. He didn't have long. He must have seen the cab from his office. He waited until Nick was well into traffic before he followed. Sufficient cover was essential with his car. Sighting it would make Rice suspicious and he wouldn't go to the garage. He kept Nick in sight as the cab weaved its way among the cars towards Lambeth. Steven decided to get there ahead of time, so he turned into Whitehall and crossed Westminister Bridge while they took Waterloo.

The police cars were thankfully out of sight and the garage didn't look any different. He parked behind the garage and walked around front. The cab was just pulling up. Steven watched as Rice leaned in and said something to Nick; what it was, he could only guess. Nick stayed, however, and Steven ran over and got in the back. "How did it go?"

"Not bad. He didn't talk much. I tried to get him to talk about work, but he refused. He told me to wait, so I don't think he had nice plans for us."

"I'm not so sure. Did I tell you he mentioned doing another show?" He looked out the window. "Here he comes. Set?"

"Ready and waiting."

Rice rushed into the car. "Paddington Station! Double fare if you do it in under 30 minutes!"

"Fleeing the country, Jeremy? What will your connections think?"

Jeremy turned to face Steven. "You're behind all this! You've been meddling too long in other people's affairs, your Grace. It's about time somebody put an end to it." He pulled out a gun.

"Put that toy down. It didn't do Mr. Davies any good, did it?"

"You can't be omniscient."

"But I try. I know you didn't have a gun when you arrived and I took the precaution of removing the bullets." He turned to nick. "How much farther?"

"Almost there. How about you?"

"We almost have a confession. He's building up to it, aren't you, Jeremy? We can always have you arrested for abduction, anyway, until we dig up the proof. Shouldn't take too long after Davie's turns Crown's Evidence."

"Okay, we're here," Nick told him.

"Good. Bring out a constable while I keep an eye on our fare."

"Gotcha, guv." Nick ran into Scotland Yard and came back with an eager young man, anxious to please. "Keep an eye on the cab, mate," Nick said, dropping the keys into his outstretched palm. "We have to return it tonight."

Steven and Nick led Rice to the front desk. "I'd like to charge this man with kidnapping. Is Inspector Thompson or Superindentent Dolittle here?"

"The Inspector's just come in, your Grace," said the Sergeant-on-Duty. "Let me call him down."

Thompson lost no time in responding to the call. "Steven, what's going on?"

"This is Jeremy Rice, an executive at the BBC. He had me kidnapped and there may be a few other skeletons. I'm formally charging him now. A Mr. Davies may have more to add. He's all yours, Thompson. If you have any questions, you know where to find me."

Steven and Nick drove back to the garage to pick up Steven's car then returned to St. James to return the cab to its driver. "I want you to know this is the end of our partnership," Nick told Steven. "I want no part of your lifestyle anymore. It's too fast for me."

"You forget, I know where you live."

"While you two were away," said Tris, "the BBC called. They want you to do another show. They would like you to do it ASAP while the news is still fresh."

"I guess you'll have to put up with me a while longer."

"Oh, wonderful." Nick rolled his eyes as the other two laughed.

Ripping Time (7/7)

Wed, 21 May 2008 17:47:16 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 1669
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six

**************************************************************

The transmat beam ebbed away from the Doctor's and Nora's bodies. The Doctor slipped his arm in the crook of Nora's arm and walked to their hotel. Little did they realize, a glowing ball of hate floated behind them.

******************************************************************

Bram awoke with Jenny beside him. He couldn't believe what wonderful things happened last evening. He couldn't believe that Jenny would be so powerful, so aggressive. It were her suggestion for him to stay the night, and he was always taught there be only two types of women, but if anybody accused Jenny of being the second type, he would clock them in the mouth. He intended to marry Jenny. If he were fool enough, he'd ask her this very day.

"Good morrow, dearest, Bram."

"Good morrow to you, Jenny."

He kissed her and felt lightning surge through his body.

******************************************************************

Douglas looked at the others. They were not happy. Somehow the Doctor and Miss Nora had arranged with Rockefeller a pass to witness the as the Doctor called it "humanity's first breach of the fifth dimension."

The elevator ground toward the lower levels. The policeman and his woman, the crimson-haired creature, exited.

"Bram is it not, good day to you, Sir."

"It is."

Bram's grin puzzled Douglas as did Jenny's sweet smile.

Mateo and Etienne just snorted as they walked by.

"Dooglas, can you not work the buttons and begin. I am--how you say on egg-shells."

"Our other guests have not arrived yet. The good Rockefeller himself for one."

"Feh."

The elevator lowered yet again, and this time the Doctor and his girl stepped out onto the floor.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the Doctor grinned. "Nora took forever to get dressed."

"True."

"Take a seat, my dear." The Doctor patted Nora's hand ushered her to her seat. "So, where's the show?"

"Doctor, if you'll kindly wait."

"At a guess, I would say the Doctor is not used to waiting."

Rockefeller strode in without his coterie from the dockyards.

Joseph smiled and gripped the lapels of his pocket. Mateo and Etienne stood beside him. Armand took his place and looked as though he had swallowed a whole canary. Douglas smiled. He had won the draw of straws.

"Gentlemen and ladies, since man noticed the shadow of a sundial, he has wondered if might not the shadow be turned back. Well, gentlemen and ladies, this day we shall have an answer."

Armand stingily gripped the sheet and pulled it away.

"Armand, you bastard."

"What is that Dooglas? I cannot hear you. My monkey ears must be filled with fluid."

"Shut up. It doesn't matter. Gentlemen and ladies, I give you mankind's first time machine."

A glass octagon attached to cables that spread into the carapace of a brass engine shined.

"I'm a little curious, Mr. Rockefeller. What is your interest in time travel?"

"Come, man. Think of it. Put a penny in the bank. Move forward in time. Imagine the compound interest on that penny."

"That's a lot of pennies, isn't it, Nora."

"Indeed it is."

The octagon opened, and Nora rose from her seat. Bram spoke around Jenny.

"Doctor, what's wrong with, Nora?"

Douglas wondered that himself. He had only met Nora for a brief moment, but he could easily note the robotic movements.

"Oh, nothing. Must have been something she ate."

Nora moved forward in that strange gait.

"Nora, honey? Is everything all right?"

"Bram, get your gun ready just in case."

"Nora? You mean, it killed Nora?"

"Ssssh, the party's about to begin."

"Hey, miss. Please, take your seat."

"Fool!"

Lightning crackled from Nora's fingers around Mateo. The small man shot off the floor and over the brass console.

"Mateo!"

Etienne rushed over to his fallen brother.

Bram drew his gun.

"Good, now protect Jenny at all costs."

Nora stepped into the octagon. It closed, and lightning crackled from her body, which twisted and writhed, until Nora became a ball of glowing hate. The thing floating in the octagon of glass cackled as it crackled.

"You have been beaten, alien! Your bitch I carved last night! Her screams were delicious! She shouted out your name, but you were not there to hear her cries! You were not there to rescue her!"

"Who said I needed rescued?"

Nora's voice arose from behind them. She and a potato-faced monster stepped out of the glass pneumatic capsule. Douglas could hardly believe his eyes. Did the thing in the tube call the Doctor alien?

"THIS CANNOT BE!"

"Oh, but it is, Rutan. The Sontarans were kind enough to allow me the use of their cloning technology. Sadly due to my unique DNA structure, the only candidate viable for the chop was my dear old chum, Nora."

The Doctor worked the controls. Douglas thought this extremely odd given that the man couldn't possibly know how to work them. Alien, he called him. I heard that.

"So, you see, Rutan. You killed a cloned-shell of Nora. A cloned shell with a simple synthetic brain that I cobbled together in a fortnight. I gambled that you had enough anatomy practice that you wouldn't bother to examine Nora-two's brain. If you had you would have found nothing that could emit a single intelligent or emotional thought. It was motor only. Sort of like a soft, bumpy car." The Doctor grinned.

"Doctor!" The more animated Nora blushed as she joined the Doctor at the console.

"I'm ancient and honorable, but not dead, Nora. Even Nora-Two's screams were programmed. I hope they pleased you. We were laughing as we heard them. Nora in fact did her own screams and we just slipped them into her larynx. Stupid of you to miss that."

"BUT I HAVE WON! I HAVE THE SECRET OF TIME TRAVEL!"

"Actually, Rutan, ol' gal, you've been snookered by the world's finest mountebank of time, and the only thing you've won, puddin' is Turtle Wax."

"What were those co-ordinates, Sirsk?"

"Seven, zero, twenty, four, eight, five by seven, zero, six."

"Ta-ta, Rutan. It's not been a pleasure."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The light in the octagon blazed fiercely and cast shadows across the room.

When the light faded, the creature was gone. The machine still hummed, and the Doctor turned to face him.

"I wager this machine has one last trip left in it before it loses steam. If you really want to breach the fifth dimension, Douglas. Now is the time."

Douglas glanced at his fellows. Etienne was too concerned with Mateo who was just miraculously gaining consciousness. Joseph was stunned where he stood, and Armand had curled into a fetal ball. It was he who had to take the step for science. He would do so without hesitation.

The Doctor grinned.

"Good-bye, Douglas. Good luck."

Douglas stepped into the octagon, and he could feel the flow of time ripple through him. What had they wrought? Would it be wondrous or diabolic? Would he be the same man? Would he be something else? He did not quite understand what happened this evening, but he knew that the Doctor would not allow him to enter octagon were it not safe, were it not right. Were it not---

******************************************************

Is--Is he dead, Doctor?"

"No, he's just on a wild trip, Jenny." He grinned and took the hands of Jenny and Bram. "Good lives to you. Come along, Nora."

"Good-bye to you both. Take care of each other."

Nora joined the Doctor and Sirsk in the pneumatic capsule. With a whoosh they were traveling in the glass tube beneath the earth. A very loud explosion shook and echoed through the glass.

"Doctor!"

"Oh, don't worry. That's just chaos taking care of the mess those scientists had made. I should really have given them invites to the club. Jenny and Bram are fine." He smiled. "A little charred but fine."

***********************************************************

"Fare thee well, Doctor. Nora. A gift from the Sontaran Empire."

"Thank you, Sirsk. Is this what I think it is?"

"It is. Blorsht Bird and Valian. Enough for a month."

"Oh, and here are the parts you need." The Doctor handed over a suitcase marked with the banner "Eton or Bust." "I told you I'd find some lying about."

"So you did. Perhaps, we'll meet again."

"Perhaps."

Nora followed the Doctor into the TARDIS.

"All right. I knew the plan up to a point, but where did you send the Rutan."

The Doctor turned away from the console and grinned.

**********************************************************

The Rutan sensed its surroundings. They looked familiar.

"Exiting warp disruption...now," blared the voice above him.

The ship quivered then settles.

"No! This cannot be!"

"Centurions, this is the Commander--"

"Enemy alert! Aft bow! Enemy alert!"

"We've been hit!"

The Rutan screamed as the domed walls burst. It threw up an electrical field, but it knew such a tactic was futile. It saw the armament burst. Fire rippled from the containers. It smelled its skin sizzle.

"DOCTOR!"

**************************************************

Nora rounded the roundeled hallway and entered the control room. She noted the rise and fall of the central column, and the warm hum of the ship.

"Oh, I feel so much better now. That getup was killing me."

"You didn't show any obvious signs of pain," The Doctor said as he poured over the controls.

Nora flopped onto a comfy chair and swung her leg over the arm.

"When to next?"

"A short hop, and then a real vacation."

"Why not actually look for trouble, then we might actually land somewhen pleasant."

"You know, that's a splendid idea, Nora. Splendid."

The central column stopped, and a bell like that of an egg timer sounded.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. I really just need to pop in and pop out."

"Better I go with you. You get into so much trouble without me."

She followed the Doctor out into darkness. The Doctor's flashlight remedied that problem and illuminated a series of skulls. The Doctor picked up one of the skulls.

"Missing link. Humankind never finds it."

"You are a caution, Doctor."

Ripping Time (6/7)

Wed, 14 May 2008 15:52:49 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 2149
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

*****************************************************************************

"Mmmghmph!"

"Rutan-Vermin. This is what you had in mind for the human female, was it not? Scum. She is innocent and unarmed. Your dishonor leaves a pungent scent."

He dragged the Rutan into the changing room and threw him against the wall. The Rutan froze like a freshly discovered arachnid against a mirror.

"You may be a clone, Sontaran, but the insolent contempt I have encountered before. Your kind have died screaming before my feet as I bathed them in lightning."

The Commander clenched his three fingers into a fist and drove it through the Rutan's chest.

"You seek to upset my mission." The Rutan twisted his human disguise's face into a grin. "You will fail. The secret of time travel will be the Rutan's to command, and we will destroy the Sontaran Empire before it even began."

The creature began to glow and shift before his tiny eyes. It drew in its human disguise and turned into a blazing ball that disgusted him on the level of instinct.

"There will be another time, Rutan-Scum."

"I look forward to killing you, Sontaran."

The Rutan rose out of the changing room. It hugged the high ceiling far from the distracted eyes of humans and crackled along the length until presumably it found an open window. It was unfortunate that the equipment he needed to neutralize the filth did not survive the trip back through time. In his favor, the insulation of his armor had protected him from the Rutan's charge, and he was certain that the Rutan did not know about the Doctor. When he discovered the Time Lord's presence, the feeling of its shock and terror would be delicious.

A knock to the door drew his attention. He adjusted his muffler and opened the door. A small, human female took a step back and looked up.

"This is the woman's changing room, S--Sir."

The woman had courage. He could have if he wished broken her, but she faced him as a warrior would. He smiled.

"Forgive me. I am seeking my mate."

"Oh, I--I see." The woman swallowed. "Well, no men are allowed back here."

"Then I made a mistake." He touched the brim of his broad-brimmed hat. "Good-day."

He moved past the woman and out of the changing room. He decided that it would be best to follow the sisters of the Detective Bram. They seemed to be included in the Rutan's plan. His duty was to the Sontaran Empire. It was vital to keep the vermin from attaining the secrets of time travel, but he also had a duty to honor. Sometimes both duties served each other.

*********************************************************************

After another sumptuous meal--the Doctor was starting to feel guilty about these repasts--he found himself looking out at the window. Not for the first time he wondered why it was that every malevolent species seemed to fancy ruling or destroying the Earth, even the planet's own people occasionally had this desire. The earth was of course the Doctor's favorite planet. His love for it stemmed from its diversity and its astonishing ability to provide excitement or something to appreciate in every tick of the clock. Perhaps this also made his home away from home a target.

"Penny for them, Doctor."

"Oh, just wondering how you lot managed to crawl out of the muck."

"Oh, you can't fool me, Doctor." Nora smiled. "You had a wistful smile on your face."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did. You weren't thinking ill of my people."

"You know me well, Nora. I appreciate that, you know. That you're willing to overcome your feeling of the unknown and pal around with me."

"Silver-tongued Time Lord." She grinned. "No wonder Grace practically leapt out of the creek and started flapping in your pan."

"Speaking of which." The Doctor slipped the locket from his watch pocket. "Are you sure this is the best way?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Is it--Is it from experience, Nora? I wouldn't have liked to think that I--"

"You never did." Nora closed her eyes and she looked down at her feet. "I did have a crush on you, Doctor, when you were--different. I'm glad I didn't learn about Grace then, but when you changed--no offense, Doctor, but it's just something I couldn't--process. I mean intellectually when you explained about regeneration, I didn't have a problem. Emotionally and as a human, I had some things to think about."

"I understand." The Doctor smiled. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Yeah, sure. You know, Grace knew you immediately. She knew you, and I figured it out. Even before you changed she fell for you."

"Well, I dunno about that. She did kill me, you know." He dropped the locket on the seat where he had been resting. "Come on. There are far more important things other than our feelings to investigate."

"Suits me. Using a gun that sprays virus point blank at a Dalek is easy. Sharing your soul is hard."

"Indeed."

The Doctor took Nora's warm hand and led her down the stairs of the Monahan residence.

The Doctor removes Nora's coat from the peg and holds it out for her.

"Why thank you, suh. You are the gentlemen."

"I do like to consider myself a Renaissance man," the Doctor grinned as he held open the door for Nora. The wind was bracing.

"Which way? No, wait. Let me guess. The alley."

"Good guess."

"It's either the alleys or the sewers. It can never be a spa or salon."

"It's not like I pick these places, Nora."

"I swear, Doctor, sometimes I think you do."

The Doctor took the lead and crossed the street. He was aware of Nora's closeness behind him. Time Lords were mildly telepathic. They could if they concentrated very hard sense somebody else with mild telepathic abilities. This ability of course was nearly useless. It certainly never saved him from being hit on the head by a cudgel wielded by some obtuse Ogron or such.

"Amazing. I did not hear you at all, Doc-Tor, and your companion I only heard a moment ago," the thing in the alley hissed. "Impressive for a human. Can this be Sarah Jane Smith?"

"No, Sarah and I parted company a long time ago. I will tell her that you send her your love."

The Doctor entered the alley, and the moon cast its light on a huge, stocky figure that could only made of pure Sontaran.

"Ah, a joke. To whom else do I have the honor of addressing?"

"This is Nora Barrows. You apparently know me."

"Indeed. Five times you have defeated the Sontaran Empire, Doctor, but they were fools of an inferior caste. I am Commander Sirsk of the Sontaran Timecraft Toral. I and my crew have come from the future to stop the Rutans from interfering from Terran history."

A horse and carriage clip-clopped and rolled by.

"We shouldn't be discussing things like this so openly," Nora said.

"Your companion is correct, Doctor. If you will permit me, I know of a more secure area to talk of our common enemy."

"By all means."

The Doctor saw the silhouette of the Sontaran fidget, and then lights of green and red glowed against his armor and the trenchcoat concealing his battle gear.

A familiar sensation of nausea heralded a stranger glow around he and Nora. Fortunately, she too was familiar with Transmat technology, although judging by the look on her face, perhaps not yet acclimated. The Doctor grinned.

**********************************************************************

"Ohhhh, my stomach."

"Buck up, Nora."

He gazed around. They have quite an audience. The Sontarans raised their arms out, curled their fists and slammed them hard against the leathery armor sheathing their chests.

"Hail the Doctor! Bringer of Light to the Sontaran Empire!"

"That's a new one."

"After so many defeats at your hands Doctor. The Sontarans decided to implement new genetic material into the clone stock. These genes included a higher intellectual capacity. One that allowed us to overthrow our stupid, warlike ancestors. The Sontaran Race is still dedicated to eradicating the Rutans, and protecting our personal history, but we have reconsidered our stance on the other species in the cosmos."

"If you can't beat them, join them."

"Just so. It has been most satisfactory, and personally gratifying to be the honorable creatures we once were. If you both will follow me."

The Doctor stepped off the platform, stuck his hands in his pockets and took a gaze around the room, and it was round. The dome curvature surrounded circular equipment that looked far more advanced than any of the nasty, dull machinery in any of the other Sontaran crafts he had the misfortune to visit.

"You're a star, Doctor."

"Well, we knew that of course."

The Doctor smiled and followed Sirsk out of the Transmat bay. He swooped around a curve that led to another Sontaran using a laser beam to solder the curved wall of the hall.

"We attempted to shoot down the Rutan before it made an incursion. Unfortunately, the damage we received from the initial time travel followed by defensive fire damaged our ship."

"Which is why you need our help..."

"Correct, Doctor. Our armory was destroyed. From past experience, the creature knew where to hit us. Personal weaponry is nigh useless on their energy fields."

"Indeed. They lost a few tricks as the years fell."

"But if the Rutan can travel through time--"

"It cannot. The Rutan we face is from this time. It believes and we have led it to believe that we are also from this time. The signature of our ship would be undetectable by its sensors. They would falsely categorize as a Sontaran Battleship. We are far more. The Sontarans are a very old race, No-ra. It seeks to steal the secrets of time travel to eliminate us."

"Not good for anybody."

"Exactly. It chose this point in time because the humans will perfect time travel at this point."

"The stuff they don't teach you in history books."

"Experience is the best education, Nora."

They followed Sirsk to a large room where Sontarans, identical every one, sat and conversed over drinks and food.

"Please, sit. I will have refreshments delivered and we may discuss a battle tactic."

"Good. Now, exactly what types of armaments are available to us?"

"None."

"Weren't you paying attention, Doctor? The Sontarans lost their armory."

"Just so. I was hoping with your advanced knowledge you may be able to use our personal weapons."

"I'm not a sorcerer."

"That is not exactly true from the reports I have gathered."

"Flatterer." The Doctor smiled.

"Ah, the Blorsht Bird and Valian. Please, enjoy our hospitality."

The Doctor looked at the steaming purple avian with four wings and two sets of legs. The Valian looked the color of grass. He glanced at Nora. Her face blank, her skin white as a cloud.

"This looks scrumptious." The Doctor took the knife and sliced off some meat. He popped it in his mouth. "This is scrumptious! Nora, close your eyes, open your mouth and taste."

"Oh my, god!"

"Well, small wonders in the strangest of places."

"It is not a handsome bird when alive, but dead it serves a good purpose. Try the Valian. The year I am told is perfect."

"Indeed it is." The Doctor made quick work of the bird on the platter and split the slices among them. "Now, let's see what we can do with what we have. What do we have besides a well stocked kitchen?"

"Departments you mean?"

"Yes."

"The damage was mainly to our engines. This caused a chain reaction that destroyed our armory. I will have to think twice about putting all the guns in one place. A tactical error."

"Not to worry about that, everybody makes mistakes."

"Yeah, we're all--oh--that is we're all--what are we all?"

"We are Sontarans, and this error will be bred out of our stock."

"No. Don't do that. You learn from your mistakes. That's why I was always able to defeat--Did you say stock?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"This is a mission vital to the Sontaran Empire, correct?"

"Yes."

"If something happened to you and your crew, what would the rest of the survivors do?"

"Breed us again."

"You have clone stock aboard this ship?"

"Of course."

"And the equipment for making clones?"

"Yes."

"The Rutan has been making duplicates of everybody else for himself."

"Indeed, he tried to take the red-haired sister of Bram Monahan."

"If you stopped them, you have more than my thanks."

"Awwww. The Doctor's kind of sweet on her."

"Shut up, you." The Doctor smiled. "It would have been like dissecting a puppy."

"Eeww. Thanks for that picture, Doctor."

"It needs somebody close to the project to infiltrate. Well, I say that we give the Rutan what it wants."

Ripping Time (5/7?)

Tue, 06 May 2008 22:11:36 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 3522
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

**********************************************************************

The glass craft slowed then rebuffed against a black cushion. The Doctor released his grips. Nora did the same.

"That was quite pleasant," Jenny said.

"It was indeed. Not at all the bumpy ride I thought it would be. Whoever built this is far ahead of his time."

"What is it, Doctor?"

That's two I owe you, Bram. Of course, I know what it is. So there.

"Well, we're standing on a glass and brass shuttle. It's situated in a long glass tube. I imagine it has been lubricated with an experimental formula. The ride shouldn't have been so smooth. Impressive. When I pull this lever." He touched the lever. "I'm opening the vent which is sucking in the air that's stored under pressure in a chamber behind the craft. When the pressure becomes too much, the lever moves forward signaling the occupants to get ready."

"Ready for the concussive force. It's like a dandelion being blown by a hurricane."

"Precisely, Nora."

"But I don't understand, Doctor. We're underground. Where's the air coming from?" Jenny asked.

He shined his beam out of the glass craft.

"You can't see it, but we're in a cavern that's man-made."

"It's air-filled," Nora added.

"Yes, and the air I think is being drawn from the surface to here."

"How?"

"Oh, lots of methods." The Doctor shrugged. "I tend to think there's likely some hidden vents on the property. These folk like hidden things. The air's drawn in through capillary action, it becomes trapped in the cavern and the method of propulsion."

"Why do it though?"

"Rockefeller has been seen in the company of scientists. I imagine they're working on something queer that isn't yet to be seen. I don't believe any of the scientists have ever been seen entering or leaving Sea Gate. Though I'm damn certain now it's not a lightning gun they're working on. Excuse me, Jenny."

"For what?"

"The profanity."

"I run a cafe, Bram. I've heard far worse when somebody scorches their thumb. Said worse too."

"Well, the journey's not over. Fancy a climb anybody?" said the Doctor as he unsealed the hatch from whence they entered.

Nora's stomach grumbled on the way. Troubleshooting was hungry business.

Their journey ended at another hatch that opened into darkness cursed only by the Doctor's trusty penlight.

The Doctor gripped the penlight in his teeth. He pulled himself up and then helped Nora out of the tunnel. They helped the others out. She wiped the sweat from her brow and tugged at her collar. Pretty, the fashion sense of this time period wasn't the best sort of style for any strenuous activity.
She followed the Doctor who almost scented the crack of light shining as an outline of a door. He handed Nora the penlight. She focused the beam on the doorknob, and the Doctor upon affirming it to be locked slid out his lock picks. The sonic screwdriver was out of the question. The keening may alert the players on the other side of the door to their intentions.

Without a sound, The Doctor unlocked the door. Without a sound, he opened the door. Then the hinges let out a monstrous Crrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaakkkk.
The surprise on the man's face was evident.

"What do you want? Stay back!"

He gripped a crowbar. The hairs on the back of Nora's neck stood, but she relaxed. The room was very disappointing. Instead of a secret lab, they found a secret sandwich bar for a frightened worker.

"We're dreadfully sorry. We're looking for the other scientists. We're new you see." The Doctor raised his hands.

"Oh, right." Thompkins lowered the bar. "Through that door, up the stairs."

"Thank you, Mr.....?"

"Oh, you can call me Thompkins. Everybody does. Bart's my first name. Bart Thompkins."

"Thank you, Mr. Thompkins. You mind if I steal some of your sandwich? My companion's tummy seems to be rumbling like a thunderstorm."

"She's hungry?"

"Yes. She has such an appetite for a slip of a thing."

"I suppose that's all right then."

The Doctor smiled and used the man's knife to cut a small corner from the sandwich. Nora smiled graciously and took the piece, and although ravenous, she had caught the Doctor's code word. The Doctor never refers to her as companion unless something is up. She sniffed at the combination. It smelled awful. It looked worse. She saw something wiggle from inside. She almost lost her appetite visibly.

"You know something, Uncle. It went away."

"Really? How strange is that, Mr. Thompkins?" The Doctor took back the corner of rot as his other hand slipped into the inside of his pocket in a move so smooth that had Nora not been on alert she never would have seen the Doctor being the Doctor.

"That is strange."

"Not as strange as you are."

The Doctor cuffed the "man" in the jaw. He fell backwards, and Nora noticed that the Doctor had donned a rubber glove. Quick as a hare, he pulled on the other glove and assumed a defensive pose.

"Very clever." Thompkins rubbed his jaw. The action apparently altered his voice. "Whoever you are, you're as human as I."

"Don't flatter yourself, but do slip into something more comfortable, Rutan."

Before Nora's eyes "Thompkins" glowed until he became so bright she could barely look at him. She shaded her eyes as she wracked her brain for any information she knew on the Rutans. Got it! Sarah Jane, I love you. At war with the Sontarans a race that looks like a bunch of walking spuds. The Doctor and Leela first encountered one at Fang Rock. She used a shotgun on it!

"Bram! Shoot it!"

Bram whipped out his revolver and cracked all six shots at the beast. Jenny stood dumbfounded, and Nora really couldn't blame her. It wasn't every day one came face to no face with a glowing blob of lightning. Well, for her, this was a walk by the creek, but for somebody with no experience. The bullets vaporized in mid-air. She actually heard the lead dust fall on the floor as the crackle of the creature's aura ebbed. Oh, crap!

"Foolish humans! I am superior to your firepower!"

"You have quite a motor mouth too, Rutan."

With his open hand, the Doctor, who used Bram's attack as a diversion to sneak behind the Rutan, smacked the beast. It flew like a handball and bounced off the wall like the same. It let out a very strange sound that made Nora think of embarrassment.

"You'll pay for this humiliation!"

"You know if I had a celavo for every time some lover of his own voice said that to me, I'd have enough celavos to buy the Rerarch's crown jewels not to mention the Rerarach himself."

"Die!"

The air crackled.

The Doctor held out his hands, and like magic, the lightning that would have blew the Doctor's head off his shoulders--can a Time Lord regenerate from that, Nora wondered--dissipated off his rubber gloves.

When the glow cleared however the Rutan had the last trick. It had vanished leaving the door to the stairwell ajar in its wake.

"Typical cowardly blob!" the Doctor shouted.

"It's not coming out."

"No. Drat the luck." The Doctor whipped open the door and double-timed up the stairwell. He didn't even bother to be subtle with the next door. He bashed it down with that dreamy shoulder of his--one of a pair--and stood heaving prepared to do battle in a laboratory filled with work benches, glassware, something that looked like an electronic brain along the wall and five men staring at an open window.

"Ball lightning it had to be," said the one.

****************************************************************

Douglas took the words of Matteo at face value. After all, electricity fell into his field of study. One thing bothered him, though. Nothing they were doing at the moment would generate such a phenomenon. Maybe Thompkins saw something in the break room. It seemed to come from that direction.

The others were looking at the mess of shattered glass and scattered papers caused by the path of the ball lightning. The Renaud brothers were bickering as usual. Josef was bemoaning his lost work and Matteo was mumbling and jotting notes, most probably about what they had just seen.

"Dooglas," said Armand Renaud, mispronouncing his name-again, "get a broom to clean this mess."
Oh, he was looked down upon not only because he was the youngest at 23, but also because he was a lowly biologist, and a Darwinian on top of that. He gave up trying to argue that he held degrees from both Harvard and Yale weeks ago.

He turned and saw four strangers--two men and two women--in the doorway. The man in front wore a purple coat that was a few decades out of style but he didn't seem to care. He looked oddly familiar, but Douglas couldn't place him. The other man seemed a few years younger with dark hair. His clothes were a bit more worn in if of somewhat decent quality. The women were both good looking. One was a redhead in a sky blue dress and the other a younger girl with brown hair and in a dress the color of goldenrod.
"How did you get in here?"

This question brought the attention of the others in the room. "This is off-limits to anyone not involved in the project," stated Matteo facing them.

"We were promised a quiet working environment with no interruptions or prying eyes," put in Josef.

"Working in a secret underground lab would certainly keep casual observers away," remarked the young girl in a slight southern accent.

"So what are you doing here?" demanded Etienne.

"We are neither casual nor observers," said the man in purple. "Care to tell me what exactly you're working on?" No one spoke. "Let me see if I can guess." He walked about the room, ignoring the mess on the floor. He examined the notes and experiments on the tables before facing them again. "You have a pair of physicists, a chemist, an engineer, and a biologist. A machine of some nature that needs human interaction." He stopped in front of the brothers.
"Too bad no one thought of adding a mathematician to the mix. Breaching the fifth dimension needs exact equations. Your sums are abysmal."

Armand took offense at the man telling him his math was off. He began to turn red in the face and the man ignored him, which made him angrier. Douglas tried to hide a smile as Armand learned what it was like on the receiving end.

The other three of his party moved into the room. "Doctor, what is all this?" questioned the redhead.

"This little science project is going on at the behest of Mr. Rockefeller-who is also financing it."

Douglas felt the best way to gain information was to be polite and let the other do all the talking. "You are a doctor?" he asked. "What discipline?"

"Name one." He then paused, realizing something was wrong. "One of you is missing."

"That would be Thompkins," said Matteo. "He's our guardian."

"Is he an older, shorter, stoutish man with balding hair?" asked the other woman. "We've met."

"Ah, yes, in the break room. That wasn't Thompkins, not the real one, anyway. I'm afraid he's dead."

This announcement brought disbelief from both groups. What this man said was ridiculous! They would have noticed if it weren't Thompkins. Wouldn't they?

"This is madness!" declared Matteo. "We have been living together for months. I think we would have noticed."

"One thing about scientists when they're in the midst of a project," the Doctor explained. "They tend to experience tunnel vision. You would have seen a body that looked like Thompkins, but I strongly doubt that any of you would have noticed the details."

At that moment two of the men that Rockefeller hired as "security" entered the lab. They had probably been recruited from one of the many gangs that proliferated the city. Josef slipped in behind them, unnoticed by all except Douglas. When had he left? The two men did not speak but moved to either side of the men.

"I think you had better go before we summon the police," said Etienne smugly.

"I am the police," declared the younger man.

The Doctor seemed to barely register their presence. "We'll leave now, but I want you to think on the possible far-reaching effect your actions could cause." His striking brown eyes that seemed in motion then settled on Douglas even though he spoke to them all. "Realize you are not alone and that what happens in this lab will extend far beyond the shores of this island and well into the universe. Everything is interconnected and you want to make sure you are remembered for the right reasons." He then swept out of the lab leaving both his friends and the guards to keep up.

"That's the last we'll see of him," said Josef as he collected his fallen papers.

Somehow, Douglas strongly doubted that.

********************************************************************************

Once outside, Bram noticed they were in a different entrance than earlier. "How many ways are there into that place?"

"I'm sure there are a number of exits periodically along the tunnels for air as well as escape," commented the Doctor.

"Did you mean what you said about far-reaching consequences?" asked Jenny.

"I always mean what I say. Every scientific discovery is built on those before it and lays a foundation for others to follow."

"So whatever they're working on can lead to other discoveries, some that could be dangerous," said Nora.

Bram wondered if the Doctor could actually "see" the consequences. Either that, or he knew of something similar happening for why else would he be so fervent in his argument. However, there was something more immediate that he felt needed attention. "Doctor, what about Thompkins? If he's dead, we need to investigate."

"I very much doubt you'll be able to find the body in that warren of tunnels even if you were able to search. I believe the experiment is what drew the culprit to this city and it will return until it gets what it wants."

"And how will we find out what he wants?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"We ask it."

**************************************************************

Maeve walked down the stairs from the El with an extra bounce in her step. She had been looking forward to this day for weeks now. It was so rare that she even had the money to shop let alone have the time off. At the bottom of the stairs she waited for her sisters to join her. This excursion had originally been planned to buy items for Alannah and the baby, but she hoped to find something to help her attract a certain someone. She blushed at the picture of the Doctor she brought forward in her mind's eye. Of course she couldn't say anything to her sisters or they would try and out-do her.

Tara was the first to join her. "You're certainly anxious today. You're usually dragging your feet when we go shopping."

"I don't know. Maybe it's just because we haven't all been out for a long time," Maeve said, hoping she would be believed.

"I've been looking forward to this, too," said Dierdre as she and Alannah arrived.

"I haven't decided if we should get one large item with the money or a number of small things," remarked Alannah as they walked toward the store. "Liam hasn't been any help in deciding either."

"Men rarely know what's required when it comes to babies," said Tara. "All they know about is a crib, pram, and nappies." Sometimes Tara's duties included helping in the nursery.

"We'll just have to see what strikes your fancy," remarked Dierdre.

A hansom cab, courtesy of Bram's generous donation also known as the anything to get you out of my shadow donation, dropped them off at Lloyd's Department Store. They entered through the gilt edged doors and made for the children's department, stopping to look at the different clothes and accessories along the way. Maeve made a mental note to sneak away to the millinery to find something to dress up her plain hat.

"C'mon, Maeve," called Dierdre. Maeve hurried to catch up with them. "I don't know why you were looking at them anyway. Even if you could afford it, where would you wear it?"

"If I could afford it, I'd have lots of places to go." Her sisters looked at her condescendingly. "I can dream, can't I?"

"Sure you can," said Alannah. "We'll look before we leave."

After spending nearly two hours ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the little clothes, Alannah finally decided on one of the new "Teddy Bear" stuffed toys. "It's just perfect," said Tara. "Now let's go look for us."

Maeve walked away from her sisters and browsed through the racks of ribbons, lace, and other trimmings in the hope of finding just the right item to engage the Doctor's attention. She couldn't see the others but heard them discussing the merits of each item they looked at. Then she saw it, a purple scarf almost the same shade as the Doctor's jacket.

She fingered the material and saw herself beside the Doctor driving in the country, her hair protected by the wind with her beautiful scarf. She bought it and hid it in a bag so her sisters wouldn't see.

She should have known better. Tara saw the bag and playfully grabbed it from her. "Now that's a fine scarf, Maeve," she said, taking it out of the bag. "The color reminds me of something."

"Lilacs," Alannah offered. She looked at Maeve knowingly.

"That must be it. Where did you spot it? Maybe there's one for me."

Maeve pointed out the bin and then Tara and Dierdre left to see what they could buy. Thank goodness Alannah has no need to impress him. "Thank you for not telling."

Alannah smiled. "It matches his jacket perfectly. But do you think it will make an impression? He didn't strike me as one who cares much about appearance."

"I don't know. Even if he doesn't say anything, I just don't want him to forget."

"I doubt he will. Let's go get the others. My feet are starting to hurt."

"Oh, miss, you forgot something."

Maeve stared into the face of the stranger. It startled her. The face wore a smile but didn't know what that smile meant. She looked down at his offered hand and saw a handkerchief.

"Th--That's not mine."

"Are you sure? I saw that you dropped it."

"You're mistaken, Sir. This is not my handkerchief."

"Pehaps, you're right. It looks new."

"Yes, it does."

"Do you know where in the store they sell these?"

"Maeve!"

She looked over her shoulder to Alannah, who stood in the entranceway to the women's department. Maeve smiled and waved. She held up a finger, and Alannah rolled her eyes.

"It won't but take a second. I'll show you."

Maeve smiled and led the strange man forward. The Doctor was a strange man, but in a far different manner. He was unlike any man she had met. There was such a kindness about him, and when he listened to you, he gave the impression that he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. Not strange. Better.

"Mmmghmph!"

"Sir?"

Maeve turned around, and the strange man she had been leading to the handkerchief counter had gone. She looked around and saw only shoppers engrossed in the store's ware. She looked down and saw the handkerchief. Maeve shrugged her shoulders. She picked up the handkerchief off the floor. Grinning cheerfully, she greeted the man at the counter.

"May I help you, miss?"

"Actually. I can help you." She produced the handkerchief. "This found its way from its home and onto the floor."

"Oh! Well, thank you."

"My pleasure, and I would like to purchase this scarf."

"A fine choice."

Maeve handed the man the coins, walked away from the counter and hummed a little ditty her ma sang to her when she was a wee child. She thought of that county ride with the Doctor and her new lilac scarf. Alannah's mood had grown fouler by the second. Must be the child's doing.

"What pray tell was that all about?"

"I don't know. A man said I dropped a handkerchief. I didn't. So I was leading him to the counter and he disappeared. He left the handkerchief, so I had to return it."

"Oh. That's all right, but my feet are killing me. So, may we please go?"

"It wasn't my fault."

"I know, and Ma did say to do the right thing even when it's out of your way."

The girls passed the store detective who doffed his bowler. He wondered about the encounter the younger of the two had with the stranger. He had only turned his head away a minute, and the stranger had gone. Still, nothing had been stolen. So, he was doing his job. He smiled. Nice girls.

Ripping Time (4/?)

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 16:39:01 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 3060
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

Bram shrugged out of his overcoat and placed it on the rack. He walked into the living room and greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek. "Dinner smells wonderful, Ma."

"It's near done. I'd best check it now." She went into the kitchen.

"So how did the captain take your report about Rockefeller?" asked the Doctor.

He grabbed a biscuit off the tray. "We can't do anything more at the moment. We have to wait and see what happens."

"You mean wait for another killing," said Nora. "Concentrate your men along the waterfront."

"Why should I do that?"

"When you left me to look at the files, I noticed that all the murders occurred on or near the water. I just never had the chance to say anything until now."

"Did they now? Electricity and water."

"A shocking combination," Nora piped.

"Nora! That was horrible. I wanted to say it."

"You're getting slow in your old age, Doctor."

Da spoke, "No more talk of this. I don't want your mother any more worried than she is already. Now, let's go sit down for dinner."

Da sat at one end of the table and motioned for Nora to sit at his right. The Doctor sat next to her instigating a scramble by his sisters for the seat on his other side. Bram anticipated such a move and snuck in before them. With a You're-Gonna-Pay-For-This-Later look, they all sat on the other side, facing him instead. Bram was certain that Nora knew what was going on beyond his Ma's fine dinner, and he could have sworn he caught her suppressing a smile. Maybe his real niece then or a close friend. She doesn't act like he's hers. Well, Doctor, my respect for you just doubled.

Dinner was simple; mashed potatoes, green beans, squash, baked bread, and pork roast that Ma carried in herself. After Grace, Da began to carve, giving the first pieces to Nora and the Doctor. Plates were passed and Bram noticed that the Doctor filled his plate with vegetables and bread, not touching his meat. Though how he could eat with four pairs of eyes watching his every move, Bram didn't know. With two sisters of marriageable age, he should have given the Doctor some warning, but his sisters' husband hunting had been the farthest thing from his mind this afternoon.

The man was knowledgeable in varied topics and was able to converse in every subject brought up. Nora threw out a comment or two, but as she was near the same age as Maeve, that could explain her quiet observance.

"Where were you raised, Nora? You sound southern."

"I was born in Atlanta, Alanna. When my parents died, I was shuttled from home to home until...my uncle the Doctor arrived. I've been traveling with him for some months now acting as his assistant."

"Sounds interesting."

"Provides an unparalleled education as well," said the Doctor. "There is no better teacher than travel."

Ma rose from her seat and began to clear the dishes. Maeve and Deirdre immediately rose to help her, as did Nora and the Doctor. "No, you sit back down, love. You too, Doctor. You're guests. I have the girls to help me."

"If you're sure."

"Quite."

Bram smiled. "The gesture was appreciated, but Ma holds strict rules of hospitality."

From one of the other rooms, they heard a ringing. "Oh, you have a phone," declared the Doctor.

"We had it installed for emergencies. Most of our friends don't have one yet," answered Da.

Tara stuck her head around the corner. "Bram, it's for you."

"Sometimes I regret giving this number," he said, rising.

" 'A policeman's lot is not a happy one'," quoted the Doctor sagely.

"Ain't that the truth."

**********************************************************

No sooner had Bram left the table than Tara skipped into his vacated seat. She looked up at the Doctor's face. Oh, he was so dreamy with his deep brown eyes and waves of brown hair combed back like a mane. Bram's other coworkers were either ancient or just plain. The Doctor on the other hand was just the right age and handsome to boot. There was also an air of mystery, of excitement, about him that was near intoxicating. Now, if she could only get him to talk about himself. "What are you a doctor of?" She heard a sputtering sound and guessed it to be Nora. She ignored it and stared at the Doctor waiting for an answer.

"Tara, you know better than to ask such a question," Da admonished. "I do apologize, Doctor, for her directness."

"No need to apologize. It's a question Tara felt needed asking." He turned to face her. "I have a number of degrees in various disciplines, one of the more recent, a medical degree earned in Glasgow."

"But you're so young, Doctor. How did you earn so many degrees in such a short time," Da said clearly intrigued.

"The Doctor's smarter than a barrow full of foxes."

"True, I am a genius. It can be extremely embarrassing at times."

"Especially to those who are close to him."

At that moment, Bram returned and the Doctor looked up at him. "Bad news?"

"We have to go back to headquarters. The captain has called a meeting regarding the case. He wants you and Nora to be there as well."

"Well, then we mustn't keep him waiting," said the Doctor as he stood.

"Thank you for a lovely time," said Nora as she shook Da's hand.

"I want you to know that the door is always open to you both," he replied as the family walked them to the door."

"Yes, don't be strangers," Ma told them.

Taking advantage of helping Nora with her wrap, Tara spoke so only she could hear. "I've been trying to get the Doctor's attention for the entire night, Nora. What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing. See, he's smitten with somebody else."

"Oh, drat, the luck. All the good ones are taken."

"Yeah, that's the truth."

***********************************************************

The Doctor did not seem to be interested in the body, and his disinterest suited Nora just fine especially on a full stomach. Instead, he pulled a brass box out of his pocket and examined the sand that surrounded the body.

"When did you have time to cobble that together?"

"Hmmn? Oh, while you wasted precious hours sleeping."

"Excuse me for being human."

"No need to excuse yourself, Nora." He smiles. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"And that box of tricks is telling you what exactly, Doctor?" Bram asked as he moved away from the corpse.

"Ah, well, you see since our friend over there was electrocuted and since this time..."

"Ixnay on the Imetay, Doctor."

"The bottom line is that lightning gun will likely be leaking a charge. Sand is silicate. Crystal you see. An excellent source to contain electricity. This box detects electricity, and there's a nice trail leading from the body." He looks up from the box. "Over by that shed."

Nora followed the Doctor, and she saw Bram pull out his revolver. For some reason seeing him with a gun seemed strange. Bram was a ratiocinator, but then Sherlock Holmes was a thinker as was the Doctor, and she saw the Doctor kill things and on occasion poor excuses for people. One even with a gun. Perhaps, it was because that after the game has been puzzled out, there's only one other thing to do cast judgment. In the Doctor's case, he had to be harsh because the things he faced would never be contained in a prison of any kind. Nora smiled. She thought of the Daleks grating the phrase "At-ti-ca" over and over again while hovering back and forth behind bars.

The Doctor pointed his box at the shed and walked around the seemingly inoffensive shelter. Nora felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand erect. She knew on a primal, human level that something bad was in that shed.

The Doctor picked the lock. He opened the door. A charred woman's corpse fell out.

"Why!"

"It was interrupted. It killed them both and attempted to conceal the murders. It shoved her into the box. It then went back for the man, but it was interrupted. They were probably together." He frowned. "Sharing a lover's night, and this thing came along and killed them."

"Thing, Doctor?"

"Hmmn?"

"You said thing."

"Metaphorically speaking, Bram. The Doctor simply hates it when men or women kill. He feels that they remove themselves from the species. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Come with me. The trail doesn't end here."

The Doctor led Nora and Bram to the wooden steps.

"We've lost him, haven't we?"

"Not at all."

"But wood's not a conductor."

"Nora?"

"The nails are iron, Bram." She smiled, gathered her skirt and followed the Doctor. He stood on the concrete promenade. For most the trail would have ended here. The Doctor was not most. He stared at a dwelling that leaned over like an old hound waiting to die. Nora had seen that look before. The Nazi had taken her hostage in the car. A gun was pointed at her head. The Doctor's eyes burned blue electric in the rear view mirror. "Drive!" her captor had shouted. The Nazi should have kept quiet. The Doctor had buckled her in himself. He floored the car and smashed it into the marble statue. The Nazi flew out the front window, and the glass had sliced him to ribbons, but the Doctor was out there on the hood too. Nora screamed. She tore off her belt and ran to him. His belt had not been strong enough to hold him, and the Doctor had died saving her, or so she thought, for then something alien happened. Something wonderful.

"Bram!"

"Jenny! What's she doing here?"

The Doctor pointed his box of tricks at the scarlet-haired woman. Red-hair again! There's something in the Y chromosome. There has to be. She studied the Doctor's expression, and his poker face relaxed when he saw the zero reading on the meter. She looked back and admired the woman's style of dress. She complimented the fire that nature had given her with a smart orange-red parasol, matching skirt and a blouse of gold and red stripes.

"Sashaying apparently."

The woman walked up to the trio, and her grin was dazzling.

"It is you. Why didn't you answer?"

"I--something in my throat. This is my Doctor. Erm. Doctor."

"Doctor, Doctor?"

"Just Doctor, and you would be this Jenny I have heard Bram speak of so fondly."

Nora watched as all the color--and there was a lot of it--retreated from Bram's face. She smiled and took the Doctor's arm.

"Doctor, why doesn't Jenny come along with us? Every good detective needs a Watson."

"Or a Nora." The Doctor grinned.

"If you be Nickie," Nora murmured.

"Hmmn?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, I'd hate to be an imposition."

"Nonsense. The merrier the men, the more able the Robin Hood."

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Bram?"

"A word in your ear if I may."

"Certainly. Excuse me."

Nora watched him step aside to where Bram stood. She didn't know the man, but she deduced--ugh. Now, the Doctor had her doing it--he was more than concerned over Jenny's welfare and the Doctor's sanity.

"I hope this isn't over me."

"It is I'm afraid. See, Bram's probably saying something like 'He cares too much about you to see you hurt.'"

"Does he?" She smiled and twirled her parasol.

"Yes. He does. To which the Doctor is replying with something like 'More people are harmed when they're not with me.'"

"This Doctor of yours thinks much about himself."

"Not nearly as much as he pretends, and he's right. The best thing to do when you're in any dangerous situation is to make sure the Doctor's with you." Nora beamed. "You'll be protected in triplicate though Jenny. Bram, me and the Doctor."

"I'm not exactly a wilting rose, Miss--Nora is it?"

"Nora without the miss. Pleased to meet you. Bram just lost."

"How can you tell?"

"He has a look that's known worldwide as 'I just argued with the Doctor.' It's right up there with 'I'm with stupid.'"

"You are a breath of air, Nora. I can see why the Doctor likes having you around."

"If I wasn't, he'd end up talking to himself. Probably go nuttier than a squirrel hutch." Nora grinned.

Bram and the Doctor returned.

"Right, well that's settled. Follow me, and don't stray."

The Doctor led the expedition to the dwelling he spotted. A rusting padlock and an equally disintegrating band of iron barred the door. It may have actually supported the walls. The dwelling looked so stable that a sneeze might bring it down. Nora peered at the hut. She smirked.

"This isn't what it appears to be, is it, Doctor?"

"Took you long enough." The Doctor grinned. "Yes, somebody wants us to think that it's old and decrepit. Useless and therefore something that should be left well alone. Bram, you're the detective. Tell me what you see?"

Nora watched Bram peer at the shed. If the Doctor's behavior as venerable teacher bothered Bram he made not one protest, verbal or reflexive.
"The wood's old-looking, but it's not old."

"Top marks, Bram."

"Really?" Jenny stepped forward to take a closer look. "Oh. The dirt. It's the same color as the stuff on the ground. If it were really old wood, the dirt and dust wouldn't be the same, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. Top marks also to you, Jenny. I can see why you're in Bram's eye so much."

"Am I?" She turned around and looked at Bram whose skin color could cover beds. "I'm learning much today, Bram. Why didn't you say these things to me?"

"I was--I was afraid I didn't--I don't have much to offer you, Jenny."

"You have the most important thing to offer me, Bram." She took his hands.

"Time enough for sparking later." The Doctor grinned. "We have a lightning gun to disable."

"That was horrible."

"Thank you, Nora. Now, where did the creature enter?"

The Doctor's box of tricks made it plain. He felt the wall and ran his fingers against the grain. In seconds, the Time Lord found the depression in the wood that sent up a portion of the wall. The Doctor produced his anachronistic penlight.

"Are you an inventor, Doctor?"

"I think he's much more than that, Jenny."

The Doctor ignored the speculation and led them into the darkness. He swung the beam around to dope out the mechanism of the doorframe. It was a simple series of pulleys, rope and a counterweight that the depression dropped.

"Primitive but ingenious," he commented.

"Why go to all the trouble?" Jenny asked. "Just to hide the inside of a shed?"

"Astute, Jenny." The Doctor waved his box about and shined the beam to floor. The outline of a trap door could easily be seen amid the dusty floor.

"Wait. Where are the footprints?"

"You're willing to go beyond your bailiwick, Bram, but you still need a gentle push on occasion. What did Mr. Doyle say?"

"'When you've eliminated the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be the truth.'"

"You suspect we hunt a creature and not a man or woman. How then do you know it walks?"

"It flies?"

"Congratulations, Bram. You've reached the point of your graduation."

The Doctor searched for a way to open the trap door and found another ingenious but simple protective device. The wooden handle recessed into the door itself. The door opened without a creak.

The Doctor shined his beam down the tunnel. It glinted and gleamed off rungs of a ladder.

"Shouldn't somebody stay up here in case something goes wrong? Nora or Jenny?"

"No. We all go down together. If things get rough downstairs. Somebody escapes upstairs and brings the cavalry. What happens when anybody is left alone on guard is that they get injected with poison by a Cybermat. Follow me, quiet as you can."

They looked at her. Nora smiled and shrugged her shoulders. The Doctor had so many companions in the past, and she didn't know of them all. Not all of them kept records of their adventures either. She tried to remember who it was that was involved with Cybermats. Cyber-Mat. Mat. There was a Matt Janes in school. Of course, the one who did keep immaculate records. Sarah Jane Smith. She liked that one. The gal had spunk.

Their descent placed them on a brassen wheel. The Doctor turned the wheel, and it made not one squeak. He dropped inside whatever it was, and when Nora followed, she still had no idea where on earth she happened to be. She did know it was still earth. She felt no time distortions or Transmat effects. The technology also didn't appear alien. It looked like something from that Jules Verne might describe. The brass trimmings gleamed off a glass body. The Doctor's beam revealed some sort of control with brass levers and a brass-trimmed pilot's seat.

"My word. Do you know what this is?"

He shined his light out of the cockpit, and she still hadn't a clue.

Nora clenched her teeth. She drilled her glare at the back of the Doctor's shoulders. He lived for this.

She made a dolly-face, fluttered her eyelashes and squeaked, "No, Doctor, what is it?"

"Well, Nora, since you asked, and you did ask." She didn't have to see his grin. The weasel. She held back a smile and sat in one of the four passenger seats behind the pilot's chair.

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

"Is that wise, Doctor?"

Thank you, Bram. That's the other one I didn't want to say.

"Wisdom is gained from experience and error, Bram." He swiveled around and said, "You needn't worry. This time. I know what I'm doing."

Nora relaxed.

The Doctor pulled down a lever, and Nora heard gears shift and a giant whoosh of air.

"I know what this is!"

Click.

"You see those curves on the edges of your seats? Grab onto them."

Click.

The Doctor gripped his own seat and watched as the lever of its own slammed forward.

Suddenly, whatever was outside the glass cockpit rushed at Nora. She was right.

Ripping Time (3/?)

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 02:57:28 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 3194
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

*****************************************************************

Two days later, the ringing of the phone wakened Monahan. He knew it was bad news as the only calls he got were from the precinct. "Monahan," he answered drowsily.

"There's another one," was all the voice said on the other end.

"Where?"

"Sea Gate. A hack is on the way."

Monahan replaced the phone and swore. "This is just what I need." He quickly shaved and dressed, grabbing his coat on the way out the door.

He was just stepping onto the front stoop when the hack pulled up. The driver saluted then smiled. "Mornin', detective. Any leads yet?"

"Nothing concrete," Monahan answered as he took his seat.

"You'll get 'im, sir. You're the best."

Monahan thanked him and thought on the case as Brooklyn passed by outside. Too bad it wasn't men like the driver who were responsible for his position. Now that the murderer had struck in exclusive Sea Gate, he would be under even more scrutiny by the press, the public, and his superiors. He let out an exasperated sigh. Something had to happen. He was due.

The driver pulled over to where a uniformed officer was waiting. "Do you want me to wait, sir?"

"No, thanks. I'll hitch a ride with someone else." The driver saluted and drove off.

"Right this way, sir," said the uniform as he led Monahan to a path between the houses to the shore.

Monahan could see the cluster of police already gathered. "Any identification?"

"Yes, sir. Victor Cahill. Lived right down on Atlantic."

Monahan was about to ask what position he held there but the sight of the body made it unnecessary. From what he could see of the man's clothing, he was definitely family, not a servant. This was the first victim from "Society" which widened the motive. He walked over to MacLaren. "Same as the others?"

"I don't think you need my confirmation. You can see that for yourself."

"Yeah, but hearing someone else say that makes it more real."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bram saw a flash of purple. When he turned around, he saw the man--The Doctor--from Coney Island examining the body with an odd sense of familiarity. As if sensing he had become the center of attention, the man looked up. "Quite a nasty sight, isn't it?" He stood and brushed off his clothes. "This is something I've seen too often. Violence without reason."

The young girl he had been with earlier was also there and stared down at the body. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Don't, you'll contaminate the crime scene." The girl slapped his arm and covered her mouth and nose with her handkerchief.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Everybody must be somewhere--Detective?"

"Monahan. I saw you stop that mugging at Coney the other day."

"Your robbery division needs to be more attentive," said the Doctor.

"If I still have my job after this, I'll tell them. But that still doesn't explain what you're doing here at this crime scene."

"The nerve! We were the first to take action!" declared the girl.

"Just what action was that?"

"Well, the Doctor treated the woman who called you for shock."

"That's one way of putting it," the Doctor muttered.

Monahan stared at the body as MacLaren had it covered with a tarp. "Did the officer take your statement?"

"Yes, sir. Three pages of it," answered one of the officers, hearing Bram's question.

"You got an address for them?"

"Yes, sir. They're staying at the St. George Hotel."

"Detective, this hasn't been the first murder has it?" questioned the man calling himself the Doctor.

"No, this is the 6th in about 10 days. You said you've seen this before? When?"

"London. Eighteen--Well, a long time ago."

"You look too young to know what a long time ago is."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Maybe it's the same killer?" asked the girl.

"Oh, Nora, that's a leap. Besides, it couldn't be the same man. He's dead."

"You sure?"

"Positive." His eyes in the glint of sunlight seemed flecked with gold.

"So, you've been involved in cases like this before?" asked Monahan as he ushered them away from the body and other police.

"I merely dabble, Detective."

"Oh, brother."

"Why don't you contact Professor Litefoot, recently retired from Scotland Yard?"

"Litefoot the pathologist?"

"That's the chap."

"Doctor, could you be any more British?"

"Well I could, but my father wasn't you see."

"Fine. I'll do that. You'll be in New York for awhile?"

"Oh, definitely. Taking in the sights. Educating my young niece."

"You have your niece call you 'Doctor'?"

"It's her joke. I tend to call her tomcat."

"Meow."

**************************************************************

Monahan took his leave of the Doctor and his "niece," but not before informing them that any change of address had to be reported should they be needed. He then made his way to the house on Atlantic where Victor Cahill had lived. The interview itself went well. The victim's father, a stern-looking man near 60, told him that his son had been out that night with friends possibly gaming, drinking, and whoring. As to what he was doing by the water, he had no idea. He gave Monahan some names and Monahan left his card should the man remember anything else.

Back at headquarters, Bram composed a telegram for Professor Litefoot in London asking about the Doctor. Not having the man's address, he had it sent to Scotland Yard. Hopefully by tomorrow, he'd have a reply.
He had just finished his report on the Cahill murder when word came that the Captain wanted to see him. With a groan, he climbed the flight of stairs to his superior's office. He could probably hold the conversation himself, as the Cossack's words would be easy to predict.

He knocked on the door. "Come in." Bram did so and closed the door behind him. Nicolas "The Cossack" Wallachai was taller than he and practically everybody in New York City. He nearly commanded as much attention as the Doctor. His hair short and combed back without pomade, his mustache perfectly trimmed and darted with silver made him a striking figure. His eyes black as tar were not dull but deep with experience.
"Monahan. I had word from the Commissioner this morning regarding the Cahill death. Now that this murderer has struck someone of Society, the Commission is demanding results. What progress have you made?"

"I have yet to determine a connection between the victims, sir, or even the reason for the dissection."

"That is not the report I was hoping for, Monahan."

"There is something else, sir."

"Yes?"

"I have found a consultant, a man who helped solve a case like this a few years ago in London. I sent a telegram to Scotland Yard for verification."

"You believe this man to be telling the truth?"

"I want to believe that for some reason he arrived just when we needed help."

"And you don't find that suspicious?"

"Normally, I would, but there's something about him that inspires confidence."

"You are aware your career is riding on this?" Bram nodded. "When you get the telegram from Scotland Yard, bring this man to me. I want to meet him."

"Yes, sir."

*****************************************************

The following afternoon, the reply came from Litefoot. The Doctor was a private inquiry agent who solved a series of disappearances in the Limehouse district. He should be granted every available courtesy.

Telegram in hand, Bram phoned the St. George Hotel and left an urgent message for the Doctor to report to police headquarters. He then had to inform the clerk that that his guest was only acting as a consultant for the police and that he was not wanted for anything.

He returned to his desk only to see a young woman sitting in his chair reading his files. She looked up and he recognized the Doctor's niece. She smiled. "Good morning, Detective."

"What are you doing here already? I only just 'phoned the hotel."

"Knowing how long it would take for the reply to arrive, I anticipated your summons," said the Doctor from behind him.

"Litefoot had nothing but glowing remarks about you. He also said that we should 'extend every courtesy'. Before we start, however, my superior wants to meet you."

"Of course. They always do." The young woman made to go with them. "Nora, why don't you stay here, go through the files, and see what you can make of them."

"Is that wise? There are some photos in there unfit for a young woman."

Nora grinned. "They'll be nothing after what I've seen. I'll be fine."

The Doctor followed Monahan up the stairs and hummed a bar from Ode to Joy. A rather scrawny individual below squawked about a giant "roughing up his mates!" The Doctor felt the poor man probably had a hard life and too much ale this day.

Monahan knocked upon the frosted glass.

"Come!"

"Sir-"

The tall man with silver and black hair barked at the telephone. "What do you mean you don't know anything about a police box?"

Oh, dear. That can't be good.

"Police box, Sir? What's a-"

"I'm trying to find out, Monahan." He looked up. "It seems somebody cut a swathe through the Penny Dreadful Gang."

"I heard the Eel's furor on his way to the cells, Sir. Are they dead?"

"No. They were battered though and nearly every bone in their bodies were broken."

"Is it related to Detective Monahan's case?"

"You must be the Doctor. You're rather young."

"My hearts are old."

"I don't care for your humor either. Cretins." He slammed down the phone on the receiver.
The Doctor smiled. Humans tended to invent things that exasperated them ever so. "Why do you call them the Penny Dreadfuls?"

"Because they're worthless, but very imaginative. So imaginative they've yet to be convicted, until now." He sighed. "I'm so happy that the Bulldog in robbery has another feather to put in his cap."

"Not killers then?"

"Sadly, no. It would make things so much easier if they were. However, we have a group of men that have been pounded to pulp. Perhaps, they knew something, and our unknown--"

The Doctor pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, Captain. No."

"Why not?"

"Because the men are alive."

"Perhaps, he was startled."

"No. The body I examined at the beach indicated no previous violence. The bones were cut by a sharp scalpel not broken."

"A scalpel? Are you mad."

"You would be surprised how many times I've been asked that question."

"No, I wouldn't, Doctor. A scalpel can cut bone, but not to such extremes."

"It helps when the bones have been electrified. Weakened, made brittle."

"Electrified? Are you saying the victims were struck by a form of freak lightning?"

"No, he's not." Monahan turned toward the Doctor. "A device like a gun that fires lightning."

"I knew you were sharp, Bram."

"A lightning gun! You are mad!"

"He's not mad, Sir. Who found the body? Rockefeller's maid. Rockefeller has recently been seen in the company of several well-respected scientists."

Ah-hah!

The Captain sat down. For the first time in a week, he smiled.

"I'll go and question Mr. Rockefeller immediately, Sir."

"You'll do no such thing. One does not question a man of Mr. Rockefeller's stature without being invited first."

"I don't think Mr. Rockefeller is one who would invite police into his home, Sir."

"This is a murder investigation. Like it or not, no matter how much wealth he has accumulated, he has no choice." He picked up the phone once more. "I should have the proper paperwork for you in an hour."

The Doctor and Bram made their way back downstairs to Bram's desk. Down the hall, they heard feminine laughter. Bram recognized one and guessed the other to be that of Nora.

"Uh-oh."

"There's nothing quite so chilling as two women of your acquaintance laughing together."

"Doctor, you're a wise man. Especially when one is telling childhood stories you'd rather be kept quiet."

"It's even worse when they pull out their snaps."

"Snaps?"

"Photographs."

"That would be my mother."

"You're mother's an extraordinarily attractive young woman, Bram."

"No, not her. That's my sister."

"I know. Just teasing."

"Please don't. I get enough of that when I visit my family."

"Nora, I see you've made a new friend," said the Doctor as they entered the room.

"Oh, Doctor." Nora looked over her shoulder. "This is Maeve Monahan. Bram's sister."

"Charmed to meet you, Maeve," said the Doctor with a smile.

Her face turned a shade less red than her hair. "A pleasure Doctor." She spoke with a light Irish brogue that her brother did not share.

The Doctor stared at Nora. What has she been saying?

"Maeve, what are you doing here?" Bram questioned his sister.

"I just came to remind you about dinner tonight. You had better not disappoint Ma again."

"It all depends on the case. Crime doesn't stop so I can have dinner."

"Crime is such a killjoy," the Doctor grinned. "It can be murder on a social life."

"I can't believe you said that, Doctor."

"Why not? Perfectly in character." He grinned.

"I know, but even for you--that was just horrible."

"I do try, Nora. I do try."

Maeve turned to Nora. "If you don't have any plans, perhaps you would care to join us tonight?"

"I'd love a home-cooked meal. Doctor?"

"Hmmn?"

"Would you like to join us all for dinner?" Maeve asked of him.

"Of course, wouldn't miss it."

******************************************************************

Later that afternoon, the Doctor and Nora found themselves in the neighborhood of Bushwick. The directions Bram had given them were perfect and they soon arrived his family's address. The street was clean and the buildings in good shape. Nora found it hard to reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew of Brooklyn and New York from the news.

"They won't fall apart until the 1960s and 70s when the industries move out," said the Doctor as if reading her mind. "The area will undergo a spate of renewal in the 1990s."

"What kind of industries?"

"Breweries mostly. At one point there were eleven in this neighborhood alone." He stopped in front of one of the buildings. "I think this is it. Shall we?"

They climbed the stoop and entered the large double doors. The entry hall was almost as cold as outside. Thank goodness they only had to go to the third floor where they would enter the warmth of the Monahans' apartment. The steps and halls were clean and free of clutter, something that would become a staple in the late 20th century.

"What did Rockefeller say, Doctor?"

"Well, according to Bram, he knew nothing about the murder. As for the lightning gun, he mentioned Tesla, but nobody in his little think tank is working on such a weapon."

"It's not very likely that somebody local might be working on such a thing."

"No, not very. So where does that leave us?"

"A visitor who needs lessons in etiquette."

"Yes, and since we're in the vicinity, we're elected to teach."

The Doctor's knock hadn't even faded when Maeve answered the door. "You made it. Please, come in." She opened the door wider and the Doctor motioned for Nora to enter first.

"I forgot some of humanity is slightly telepathic."

"Or, she simply could have been desperately looking for you out from the window," Nora said under her breath.

The room was more spacious than she had expected and it was cheerful and warm. The aroma of baking bread teased her nostrils. She looked to the left and saw the rest of the family rising to greet them.

"Let me take your wrap, Nora, then I'll make introductions."

"Thank you." Maeve placed the wrap on a coat rack by the door. She was aware of four pairs of eyes regarding her.

Maeve smiled. "This is my father, Declan Monahan. Da, this is the Doctor and Nora. They're helping Bram with his case."

"How do you do?" said the Doctor, shaking the man's large work-roughened hand.

"Are you with the police, Doctor?"

"A consultant only." He paused. "Galway?"

"Born and bred," Declan smiled. "Not many can pick out a county just by accent. Now yours is a tricky one. I'd almost say English. Almost."

"My mother was English. I consider myself a citizen of the universe."

"World," Nora corrected.

"World."

"How fascinating," said one of the other women.

Maeve quickly introduced her sisters. "This is Alanna, Tara, and Deirdre."

"A pleasure," the Doctor greeted warmly.

Nora could see that they had already fallen for the Doctor. It was amusing that he was so blind to the affect he had on women. It only showed how little appearances meant to him. Although Grace was a looker, but she'd bet her eyeteeth the Doctor simply felt a spark he couldn't ignore.

A slightly older woman with red hair accented by brushstrokes of silver came out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on an apron. "I thought I heard guests," she said with a smile. "I was in the midst of basting and could only now get away. You must be the Doctor and Nora. Maeve told us all about you the moment she came home."

"Thank you for having us, Mrs. Monahan," said Nora.

"Think nothing of it, dear. And it's Siobhan." She turned to Deirdre. "Would you bring the tea out?"

"Yes, Ma."

The group moved into the living room and Tara sat on the couch. "Doctor, why don't you sit here," she said, patting the cushion beside her invitingly.

"Why, thank you." The Doctor sat. "What a lovely flat you have," he told Declan as he made himself comfortable.

"It's a far cry from what we had in Manhattan. Once Bram was transferred here, we decided to move here ourselves."

"What do you do for a living?" Nora asked.

"Da works at the Schaefer Brewery and the rest of us do domestic work for the family." She leaned over and whispered, "Of course Alanna will have to stop come spring."

"Really? Why?"

"She's going to have a baby."

"That's wonderful!"

"Your employer is a very generous man to let you all have the day off," commented the Doctor.

"We are luckier than most, but the family is away in Europe at the moment so we need only go in a few days a week," Siobhan informed him.

Deirdre returned with the tea and the Doctor rose to help her. Nora knew that this action made him even more desirable in the women's eyes-even the married Alanna. Don't travel down that road, ladies. It's one way.

"Shall I be mother?" he asked as he lifted the teapot.

Nora accepted her tea and noted that the tea service was of good quality china, though somewhat chipped and worn. Perhaps it was a castoff from their employer.

Once everyone had his or her tea, the conversation went into safer generalities. By the time Bram arrived looking weary, it was as if they had known each other for years, not an hour.

Ripping Time (2/?)

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 22:22:39 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 2779
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

**************************************************************

Nora of course sat next to the Doctor. She didn't like the way Dr. Derevko, seated four rows down, was looking at him. Was she a vamp, or did her designs for the Doctor involve putting his brain in the skull of an orangutan?

"Yes, cheery evening." The Doctor waved. "You insane twit."

"Ladiessssssss and Gentlemen! Distinguished Docccccctors and Professsssors! Tonight for your evening's pleasure, a debate about the origins of man!"

"And woman!" somebody shouted.

"She seems okay, Doctor."

"That was Dr. Victoria Penelope Hope. She believes mankind is the inferior sex."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"It will be when she grows a strain of plague that wipes out all men."

"Oh, god."

"Not to worry. Taken care of."

"In this cornerrrrrrr...."

"Doctor, who thought of this type of introduction?"

"Oh, that's all me! Give it a little spice."

"Armand Grayson. Professor of Biology, chemistry and physics."

"Potty in every one of them," The Doctor whispered.

The portly hedgehog arose from his spotlighted chair and clapped together his hands above his hands as if he already won.

"Challenging Professor Grayson, this night, is doctor of biology and anthropology Douglas Quentin Marsh!"

To Nora's surprise the gallery of men and women, correction insane men and women booed and hissed the pleasant young Marsh. Once the decrying died down, the Doctor clapped his hands.

All eyes turned on them.

"Of all the cheek!"

"They're all like that!"

"Who?"

"That's one of the Doctor's litter!"

Nora jutted out her chin and applauded.

"Cream him, Marsh!"

"Let the battle royale commence!"

******************************************

"...The Origin of Species is nothing more than a fairy story. We have not the mind which can play tricks on even the sanest man."

"Said the pot to the kettle."

"The Isis Doctrines clearly show a lineage of modern man to a noble Aryan ancestor."

"Your time is up, Sir."

"I'm not finished."

"Please sit down, or forfeit the debate."

"This is unconscionable! I have important things to say!"

"Sir, please..."

"Damn you, servant. My legacy is one of the oldest line in the club."

"Sit down, windbag," the Doctor shouted.

"What! Who said that!"

"Who do you think? You know the rules. Sit down."

"How dare you! You--you impudent pup! I don't care who your uncle is--"

"Professor Grayson, I must insist that you listen to the Doctor. The rules of the charter are plainly stated, and you will forfeit the debate if you speak another word."

"Damn you all!"

"The debate has been won by Dr. Douglas Quentin Marsh!"

"No! No. Forgive me." Marsh stood from his seat. "I will not win by forfeit. I will by fact."

"Very well, Dr. Marsh. This is most gracious of you. Begin your argument, Sir."

"I said I wasn't finished!"

"Will somebody muzzle the good Professor Grayson," The Doctor sighed.

To Nora's shock and delight, two men with muzzles and rope stepped out from the shadows. She looked at the Doctor. He smiled.

"Section seven, article six, paragraph three of the charter."

"Written of course by your ancestor."

"Madmen always like the sounds of their own voices."

"Mmmmph!"

"That should hold him."

More boos and hisses filled the auditorium.

"Dr. Marsh, the floor is yours."

"Thank you, Sir."

The boos and hisses grew louder.

"It should be known, doctors and professors that we have enough rope and muzzle stock to last centuries."

And suddenly, the auditorium grew as quiet as a sultry evening.

"Thank you again, Sir. I only wish a moment of your time, fellow doctors and professors. As it is known, I am a student of the honorable Darwin's evolutionary theories, as should you be, as should any sane man...or woman be."

"Well, he lost, didn't he?"

"Yes, Nora, but he will lose with style."

"First I must correct Professor Grayson, I am not arguing the Origin of Species today. I am speaking of Darwin's other great work The Descent of Man. The theory is a simple one. It simply suggests we and the apes had a common ancestor."

Laughter began to titter from all the crackpots comprising the audience.

"Please, please, I have brought with me several skulls." Marsh motions to the table. On cue, the light hits it. "This first skull is that of a human being. This second skull is that of a great ape. The third skull belongs to a Capuchin monkey. As you can see each of these skulls bear the same topographical features. Observe if you will the binocular vision."

"Mmmph!"

"These skulls are all related, but you ask is this proof of our descent? All these skulls are contemporary." He points to the final dark space on the table. "This skull however is not. It dates back farther than we can imagine and farther than what is commonly believed to be the age of the earth. This skull you will note has features that are similar to both man and ape. The broad brow combined with the binocular vision indicates a simian origin, but observe construction of the jaw. Note that the teeth of this skull are almost identical to that of the human skull but not of the ape. My team and I discovered this skull in the heart of Kenya. We believe it to be if not the missing link, a missing link in the lineage of humanity."

"A brilliant individual."

"Why haven't I heard of him before?"

"I dunno. Why haven't you?"

"Doctor..."

******************************************

Monahan strode along the promenade and went over the interview in his head. Timmins' employee had been genuinely shocked over the news of the man's death when first told, but it soon became "business as usual" as he answered the questions Bram posed. Timmins was an efficient worker, punctual, conscientious, and well liked by fellow workers and customers alike. He planned to visit the man's home over in Brownsville to learn what his neighbors had to say. With the murders plastered all over the papers, there had to be a reason why he didn't head straight home after work.

Thanks to the abnormally warm weather, Feltman had his hot dog stand open and Monahan ordered a dog with mustard and relish. He bit down and it snapped right back at him. While he chewed he thought of his two goals, justice and Jenny. The two Js. You would think Jenny would be the easier of the two to pursue, but he wasn't a wolf. His experience was limited and not admittedly by his own design.

Bram glanced at the stranger in the purple jacket. He accompanied a younger, smaller brunette. The cut and quality of her clothes quickly dispelled any notion of a business transaction, and the way in which the stranger dabbed the ketchup off her lips and chin suggested camaraderie of some sort. He wished he could have a simple an easy relationship like that with Jenny. He just never knew what to say around her that didn't make him sound like a horse's ass.

Bram finished his hot dog and was about to leave when somebody screamed thief. He stared out instinctively to the strangers' table, but they were gone. He scanned the restaurant, and there he was holding the woman's purse. His lips parted. The man did indeed hold the woman's purse, but he also held a rather grubby but powerful looking man's arm in a most peculiar manner. The cutpurse's eyes leaked tears down his cheeks, and his face twisted in pain.

"Oh, thank you, good sir!"

"A pleasure, madam."

"Hey, Doctor! I got the other one!"

He searched for the feminine voice, and his mouth dropped open. She came through the entrance. The girl, the dainty little thing sharing the stranger's--correction, Doctor's---table, held a second grubby man's arms behind his back. His face also looked to be wracked in agony.

"Well done, Nora!"

Bram toyed with the idea of confronting the two, but robbery wasn't his bailiwick, and curious though they were, they committed no crime. In fact, they stopped one rather expertly. A thought occurred. He wondered if the man was using Holmes' method of unarmed combat: baritsu. This was one of Holmes' areas of knowledge he found no way of learning.

A crowd formed around the Doctor and Nora. He decided against forcing his way through the well wishers. He had a duty to perform and a maniac to apprehend.

Back at the precinct, Bram looked over his report. His superiors would love to read this. He was going nowhere fast. There were no revelations about Timmins at his apartment. The neighbors said he was conscientious and helped out whenever needed. He also knew when to keep to himself. The Timmins residence was small and spare with only a few trinkets collected during his life. As for correspondence, the only letters he found had been from the man's mother in Steubenville, and they only expressed his pride in a newfound job as a security guard with Rockefeller. Rockefeller provided thousands of jobs in New York and thousands of others around the country. Most important. Timmins had no other connection to any of the maniac's other victims. Every one of the killer's victims seemed chosen at random, and even Saucy Jack had a distinctive pattern. Bram bowed his head over his hands and hoped that something would break before there was another body.

He turned in the report and left before he had to speak to anyone. He took the train home and stopped at the corner deli to pick up food for dinner. He made his way up the stairs to his apartment and thankfully encountered no neighbors.

The past few days he had been accosted about the case and today would not have been a good day for that. He unlocked the door, trudged to the kitchen, and took out his chicken noodle soup and Rueben sandwich. He opened the icebox and pulled out a beer then settled down on the couch for a solitary dinner.

That night before he turned off the light, he looked at himself in the mirror as he shaved and wondered if he even had a chance with Jenny. His normally clear blue eyes were a bit bloodshot; his face looked a bit more haggard than usual; and his black hair was in desperate need of a cut. If every case affected him like this, he would be hell to be around. Maybe it was better that he kept his mouth shut around her. With a sigh, he turned out the light and got into bed.

***********************************************************

The wide man in the muffler, overcoat and broad brimmed hat watched as the police detective's lights died out. He moved down the primitively lit streets and consulted his scanner.

The detective, though more cunning than most of his ape-descended brethren, led him no closer to the enemy. He was almost disappointed in this Bram Monahan, but perhaps, he credited the earthman with an implausible amount of intelligence and skill. For the time being though, Bram Monahan was the best. The best simply would not be good enough for his needs.

A different kind of boon the detective did provide. The human had led him to a curiosity. At the canteen, he had watched the scene play out. The earthman positioned near the door signaled his partner who ran at the female human and stole her bag of valuables. The filth. Had he the luxury, he would have incinerated him where he stood. This proved to be unnecessary.

A being who appeared to be human and a female human in colorful dress took action. The stranger quickly and efficiently used a form of fighting unknown to this time on the vermin. The female human took off after the second piece of filth and to his surprise brought him back.

Something was familiar about the duo, and then the female human spoke his name.

"Doc-Tor."

The Doctor. It was a name that every of his race knew but also a common name used by many in this time and place. If it was indeed the Doctor, then it was logical that his TARDIS would be situated in the city. The scanner indicated a plasma shell nearby. As soon as he saw it, he knew it.

"Doc-Tor."

He placed his hand on the blue box. Warm. It was not of human design. This was the Doctor. This man had defeated his ancestors time and time again. He pocketed the scanner and smiled at the unwitting amusement.

"Doc-Tor."

The Doctor's presence very well may facilitate his mission. The question was how to bring together the Doctor and Bram Monahan?

"Right, look at you!"

He whirled around and faced four of the apes.

"You're a big one, ain't cha?"

The man who spoke he assumed to be their leader. All but the leader held shiny instruments. The leader held a strange black and oily device. It resembled something he had seen in the history core.

"You speak to me?"

"Right, horsie. We're speaking to you. Somebody your size and your fat must have money to burn."

"You are thieves. I have no time to spare for you. Go away."

"Go away right? Go away, he says, right? Show him the wrongness of his words, Abe."

"Yeah, Johnny."

"Would it be too obvious to note that you called each other by your names? In my judgment, your choice to steal combined with the level of your intelligence will soon kill you quickly."

"Right, I think he insulted us! Stab him, Abe!"

"You got it, Johnny!"

"Human, you are foolish."

He grabbed the man's blade and snapped it from the hilt.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Go, or you will be punished for your stupidity."

The black and oily thing in the leader-Johnny's-hand made an annoying sound and blew out smoke from its barrel. A pinprick he felt on his chest. Smoke drifted from the hole in his overcoat. Now he remembered what that thing was called.

"Your guns are useless. Your knives are useless. Leave. I have no time to spare."

Or did he? It occurred to him that leaving bodies of the humans around the Doctor's TARDIS would attract the police. This could possibly bring the Time Lord and the Detective together. The dishonor of the act would be insurmountable, but he need not kill them. Perhaps, he could simply break a few of them. Not permanently. He did not want the Doctor's ire or to keep the Time Lord in a cage where he could help no human.

"Right, take him!"

"You are all fools. If I can destroy your weapons with my bare hands how can you hope to defeat me with your fists and meager strength?"

He decided to engage his second more satisfying plan. First, breaking them will punish them for their dishonorable behavior. Second, no human would care if they were broken, but the extent would engage the curious nature of these ape descendents. Third, leaving them to be found at the Doctor's TARDIS should bring the Time Lord running. Fourth, the way in which he broke the humans would bring Bram Monahan to the conclusion that someone skilled with the martial arts would be able to inflict such damage. He liked this plan.

"Right, that's the last backtalk, horsie!"

"You have said the word right seven times within the span of minutes. This is annoying. You are annoying. Be thankful I wish you not to be dead."

He grabbed the closest two humans and picked them up by their throats. He ignored the knives that cut through his clothing and broke off his skin. He simply spread out his arms and slammed the humans into each other. Several bones he heard snap and crack. This was most satisfying.

He dropped the two humans and stared at Johnny and Abe. Johnny fired his weapon until no more pellets spat from the muzzle. Through the acrid smoke, he gripped Johnny's screaming head and threw him over his shoulder. The human's body cracked and shrieked when it struck the indestructible plasma shell of the Doctor's TARDIS. These sounds he also found very satisfying. The anger he felt over such apes being allowed to roam the street passed. He would leave Abe to run and spread the tale.

"Run if you value your misbegotten life."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Tell anyone of this, and you will be punished."

"Understood, sir! Yes, sir!"

Abe ran very fast for a human. Fear acted as a tonic to these apes. He turned around and looked at the litter on the ground. This was indeed a very satisfying evening.

"Now, Doc-Tor. Come. Your humans are in danger."

Ripping Time (1/?)

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 21:28:42 GMT

Title: Ripping Time
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: All original as explained in the notes
Word Count: 2974
Notes: This was dreamt up years ago when there was still talk of a theatrical release and before the new series. A friend and I got to talk of casting and came up with Ioan Gruffudd as the Doctor and Natalie Portman as his American companion Nora. Since we were writing this between the two of us, we had to wait for a reponse from the other before we continued. Anyway, once done it sat in my computer waiting for a bit of polish. Ray (my co-author) had also done a pic of Nora and the Doctor that I wanted to find before posting but it's lost somewhere. If I do eventually find it, I'll edit the post to include it. I will be posting in parts as it is rather long. If you find anything wrong, please let me know!

Ripping Time

"Exiting warp disruption...now."

The ship quivers then settles.

"When are we?"

"Mutter's Spiral, Humanian Age. I am attempting to ascertain the precise date, Commander."

"Centurions, this is the Commander--"

"Enemy alert! Aft bow! Enemy alert!"

"Aft Guns target and fire!"

Sparks hissed against his skin, and his first officer reported to him what he already had known.

"We've been hit!"

**************************************************************

Trudging along the worn cobbled street, on this cold autumn night, he clutched his threadbare coat close so he could draw every bit of its warmth. He thought of Carolyn, his wife, and wondered if she was waiting up for him. Thank goodness, this was his last time with the late shift. He would then be able to eat dinner with Carolyn and little Ellie. The thought of his daughter made him smile. It wouldn't do for a little girl to grow up not knowing her daddy.

He heard a strange crackling sound and stopped. When he didn't hear it again, he attributed it to boats on the river. He turned onto his block and could see his building at the far end. A sudden fog drifted by and chilled him. He wrapped himself even tighter and hurried down the street. He heard the crackling again. This time louder and longer.

He fought the urge to look and walked even quicker. The noise followed and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked over his shoulder. He saw not a thing. He sighed in relief. He faced forward once more and found himself staring at a green slime that seemed to almost float like a ghost off the ground.

He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. His brain just took too long to deliver the message to the rest of his body leaving yet another widow in Brooklyn.

************************************************************

Days later, another strange sound erupted from the ether. The fog, just as thick, became blue with a rasp and a roar. A blaze of cobalt flashed through the mist and made the white letters on the black slate of the deep blue cube positively glow. Police Public Call Box.

The door opened, and out stepped a man of average height but not of bearing. His short, comfortably wavy hair was a deep brown. His nose was a proud affair, his lips quite full. His eyes of brown seemed to swirl with a deep intellect never before seen and would command the attention of any he so desired. The man wore clothing of eccentric tastes. The time called for austere colors to be worn with dignity, and while he chose to wear a black shirt, a white vest and a pair of white trousers, his calf-length topcoat and cravat-an adornment long ago abandoned-was a deep, rich royal purple. Affixed to his lapel, a pin that was also a clock ran black hands backwards, and rather than shoes, the man wore black boots having a relative shine.

A girl slipped out of the box and closed the door behind her. She was a dainty thing, a breathing Dresden doll. Beneath a demure straw hat of black and amber, straight brunette hair framed her powdery complexion; almond-shaped tawny-brown eyes and tiny lips that held a beguiling smile. An amber bow tie wrapped the collar of her blouse. A jacket the color of goldenrod stretched wide amber lapels over her slim trunk and snuggly enveloped a rust and black striped waistcoat. A black skirt with an amber fringe draped to her shinier black boots.

"So, where to first, Doctor?"

"Rooms, I think, Nora. If we're to vacation for any length of time, it will look suspicious if we keep disappearing into a blue box." His voice was smooth. "Poor old thing. You know, in the days when she was young, she could have transformed herself into a grand hotel...in theory anyway."

"How many times did the TARDIS' Chameleon Circuit work, Doctor?"

"Oh, she turned into a splendid rock once. Very craggy." The Doctor ducked back into the TARDIS and pulled out two suitcases. "Mustn't forget. Two strangers looking for rooms? Without baggage? Unthinkable."

"What about a man and a woman sleeping in the same room?"

"No, that's quite common." He smiled and waggled his thin, arched eyebrows.

"You are a caution, Doctor."

"You'll be my niece."

"Yeah, that won't raise an eyebrow."

"Oh, I dunno. You and I sort of look related. In a purely chemical sense we are."

After checking into the hotel, the Doctor and Nora hailed a hansom cab. The ride was short but quite enjoyable for Nora who had never ridden in anything simpler than a Pontiac Trans Am. She looked out the window and watched New York's turn of the century skyline drift by. It amazed her that the Empire State Building had yet to be erected.

She listened to the clip-clop of the horses' hooves on the cobblestones, and she drew in all the fantastic aromas of home cooked ethnic food. Every so often, she would look at the Doctor who simply sat back; his sexy eyes closed, and enjoyed the ride. The Doctor she knew had a weakness for every form of transport. He said he had gained it during his exile on earth. He loved to ride in things and drive things. He claimed that there was no ship he could not
pilot or a car he could not steer. She believed him. The Doctor though appearing incredibly young and hotter than a June day was about one thousand years old. That kind of information put a whole lot of rethink in her initial plans to thank his kindness by letting him ravish her. She smiled. That and the fact that upon facing certain death, his cute leonine, mad composer look transformed into the current cuter model she preferred. The Doctor was a Time Lord.

He wasn't totally human. None of that really mattered to Nora. What mattered was the Doctor was the epitome of cool.

The cab stopped in front of a white trimmed mansion that spanned most of the block. Nora followed the Doctor out of the cab. He reached into his pockets and waited for some slithery thing to be offered as coin. She was disappointed when the Doctor actually produced the right amount and proper currency of the time.

The cabbie bit on the coin and doffed his hat.

"Very generous of you, Sir. A good evening to you."

"And to you, Sir."

The horse clip-clopped the cab away. The Doctor strode toward marble steps and then tapped the knocker to the door. An older, pale man in a tuxedo opened the door. A smile grew across his face.

"Doctor, what a pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Benjamin. How are you this evening?"

"Quite well, Sir."

"Am I in time for the lecture?"

"Oh, with moments to spare, Doctor."

"This is my companion, Nora. Nora, this is Benjamin. Without him, the society would go to pieces."

"How kind of you, Doctor. Good evening, Madame."

"Benjamin. It's nice to meet you."

"And how shall I refer to Miss Nora, Doctor?"

"We're going with niece this time around, Benjamin."

"Yes, yes. That would work. I must say, Doctor, your latest regeneration suits you even more than your last, and that I thought your best."

"Nora says I improve with age."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do."

"So you know then?"

"Oh, indeed, Madame. The eyes you see, there's something of them that never changes, and those same eyes simply cannot be in three different people without those three different people being the same man."

"So which did you meet?"

"I believe it was numbers three, six, eight."

"Four actually."

"Four?"

"Yes, three was four."

"Are you certain, Sir?"

"Yes, looked like a preening egret?"

"Yes, that's him. You were with Dr. Shaw. He was the first of you I met. I could have sworn he was number three from the way number six described the others."

"You know you could be right." The Doctor smiled. "Even I lose track sometimes."

"With thirteen of you running about, I'm hardly surprised, Sir. Shall we join the others?"

"Yes."

Nora followed the Doctor who stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the alcove where portraits of stern looking men stared out. She was shocked to see a familiar face among the founders of the club. He was the only one who had a twinkle about his fluid blue eyes, and a long white mane flowed behind a proud chiseled face.

"Is that--"

"Indeed it is, Madame. I was not here originally you see. Goodness no, that would mean I would have to be as old as your uncle."

"So you helped found this club, Doctor?"

"Yes, a long time ago."

"We refer to him as the senior Doctor, Madame. Each Doctor who visits is rather than being the same man part of a lineage of Doctors."

"It works out rather well. The Brigadier will love the simplicity of the cover story."

Benjamin ushered them into a large ballroom. The stench of cigars and cigarettes nearly caused her to choke. The Doctor pulled a silvery case out of his pocket and took out a pair of capsules. He popped one in his mouth and handed the other to her.

"Mmmn, cherry flavored."

"My own little twist."

"Why did I swallow this?"

"To prevent cancer from second-hand smoke."

"Handy."

"Very."

"Can you do anything at all about the stench of dead skunk?"

"Afraid not." The Doctor smiled.

Benjamin handed a card to the oddly dressed fellow at the door.

"The Doctor and Nora!"

"Doctor did he say?" asked a short bristly gentleman in a tuxedo. "You're not the Doctor I know."

"Which Doctor do you know? There are quite a lot of us you know."

"Fat, pompous fellow with hair the color of straw. Horrendous dress sense, though I can see yours is none better."

"Oh, you met my Uncle then. I'm the new and improved model, you might say."

"I see. Well, if Benjamin let you in, you must be who you say you are." He offerd his hand. "I'm Professor Grayson."

"Grayson...Yes, I've heard of you. Your field is what again?"

"Biology, Sir."

"Yes, of course. You're the one that believes man has descended from what did you call them?"

"Aryans, Sir."

"Indeed."

"Aryans!"

Nora found herself beneath the Grayson's steely gaze.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, young lady."

"Nor does she need any. This is my niece, Nora."

"You should learn how to control her better."

"Now, Professor. This club was established by my ancestor to allow the free exchange of ideas."

"Not from a girl who's barely a woman!"

The Doctor grabbed her wrist before she could even wind back to strike.

"Sex is immaterial to knowledge, Professor. It's in the club charter."

"Yes! Yes! I know, young man, but I don't have to like it. Good evening, Sir."

"You should have let me hit him."

"Oh, that would never do, Nora." The Doctor removed a pair of glasses of wine from a tray speeding by him. "Thank you."

"Oh! You're welcome, Sir."

"Here, this will perk you up a bit."

"I don't need perking up. Aryans, indeed. That ol' professor has a possum curled up in his bean."

"Well, they're all like that you see."

"What?"

"That woman over there. Dr. Olga Derevko. She believes it's perfectly reasonable to transplant a human brain into an ape body. The man she's arguing with believes that plants are capable of intelligent conversation, and your kind are the stupid ones without anything to say. Over there is Dr. Carlo Robinson. He thinks he can train microbes like Sigfried and Roy train felines."

"It's an asylum."

"That's why I established the place you see. Collect all the madmen in one place so you can see who's potentially dangerous and who's just a harmless loony."

"And in which category do you fit, Doctor." Nora grinned.

"I knew you couldn't resist asking that."

"So how many have you--"

"Thirty-three through the centuries, and poor Olga's apes keep escaping. Almost as if somebody keeps letting them out of their cage and transporting them back to Africa."

"Interesting theory."

"Isn't it?"

"Then why are we here? Somebody among them that's--"

"Hmmn? Oh, no, no. This is a holiday. A distinguished Darwinian who has a promising future will be challenging Professor Grayson's ridiculous notions. Here's the rub though, the Darwinian who we know to be correct will be considered the maddest of all."

"Poor ol' hound dog."

"Oh, you needn't feel bad. As I said, he has a promising future, and like it or not, laughed at or not, he does poach Grayson's egg-headed ideas. That's something I had to witness."

She laughed.

"I can just picture the meeting your sixth persona had with him."

"Pompous indeed. The man could teach a college course in it."

A gong sounded.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please extinguish all cigars and cigarettes! The games are about to begin!"

"Thank heaven for that at least."

**********************************************************

Detective Monahan looked down at the remains and fought to hold down the bile rising in his throat. Whether it was due to the body itself or the fact that this was the fifth one he had seen in less than a week, he couldn't tell. The case would be the one to make or break him; he knew that. His superiors were just waiting for him to fail. They couldn't handle the fact that a kid from Five Points could be a successful cop.

A cold wind blew in from the river. "Any identification?" he asked one of the officers.

"Yes, sir, found his wallet. His name was Timmins and he worked over at Shoot the Chutes."

Monahan pulled out his watch-a gift from his grandfather-and saw that it was just going on 7:00. Too early for inquiries. "I'll need a cup of coffee before heading over. Any word on the Mariah?"

"On its way, sir."

A few moments later he heard the clop-clop of hooves on the cobbles and the Black Mariah pulled up. Two men stepped out from the front and immediately approached the body. "Another one, eh, Monahan? You've the luck," said the older of the two in a gruff Highland burr. "Not hard to scrye how this one died."

"I need to know why and when, MacLaren. A normal, straightforward murder I can handle. This is too queer."

"There was a time when you could tell your killer by the way it was done. Since Jack's work in London, things have changed." He looked at his assistant who was looking a little pale. "Do you have that camera set up properly?" The younger man nodded. "All right, let me see." MacLaren looked through the camera and made sure that the light was just right before taking the shot. They took a few more shots before removing the body to the Mariah. "Need a lift, Monahan?"

"Maybe as far as Gowanus."

As the cab was small, Monahan stood on the running boards on the passenger side. He got off with a wave and entered a small café where he grabbed some coffee and toast. His stomach wouldn't take much more as his mind replayed the viewing.

"Here now, Bram, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"No. Ghosts would be a pleasant change."

Monahan peered up from his cup and took in the vision of crimson-haired loveliness that was Jenny. She was his goddess, but she didn't know she had a worshipper.

When he was but a boy delivering papers, he followed the sensational stories of crime. He never thrilled over the murderers or the thieves. He never remained rapt over the burglars or the Johnnies. He read the stories for the police. He set his goal to pursue a life dedicated to serving justice. He rose through the ranks honestly. Recently, he began studying the work of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. Not everyone appreciated the way in which Holmes mocked his so-called betters or believed reality could be shaped by fiction, but Monahan saw genuine worth in Holmes' methods. He adopted them to make even greater strides in the force. He only had one goal in his life to be the best cop, the best detective he could be. Then he had met Jenny on a particularly miserable night when the rain poured down like a waterfall. He had ducked into the café and upon seeing her; he found he had two goals.

"Your job, Bram?"

"My job, Jenny."

"But what you do is important for the city even if the folk living here do not ken."

He smiled. Jenny wasn't like other women, except perhaps his sisters. She accepted what he did and whenever he felt low built him up. She didn't actually need to speak to invigorate him. All she needed do was smile, but she always reminded him how vital his job was to the city of New York.

"Jenny. Jenny. What would I do--What I mean is, what-"

The ringing bell darted her attention away from him.

"Hold your thoughts, Bram. I'll be back."

He stared at the coffee cup. Time never seemed to be on his side. He had almost done it. He had almost worked up the courage to ask her out. Yes, he would have asked her out. He would do so the next time he saw her. While her back was turned like always he left the money including a fat tip--maybe that was why she was so nice to him--and took the back exit which led into the alley.

"Coward."

After almost asking Jenny out for a date for the umpteenth time, his stomach felt empty. His knees sank like jelly.

Time's Glory: An Stargate fic (2/2)

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 17:57:39 GMT

Title: Time's Glory
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: SG1, SGA, OCs (The TOC)
Word Count: 7193
Rating: PG-13 ?
Notes: This is the sequel to "Count Time" and "Long Time Coming" in which SG-1 meets up with Col. Alan Kelly, a time traveler from the future, and his team. His stories can be found here: The TOC Files. This takes place during season 2 but there are no specific spoilers except perhaps for "Coup d'Etat". After that it kinda becomes AU as I took awhile to finish it. There is a third with the possibility of a fourth if I get some ideas.

*******************

Ronon growled in frustration and anger. How could they have let themselves be taken so easily? He should have known something was wrong when the townspeople virtually ignored them. He would have expected fear or curiosity. Looking back on it now he realized they must have been told to go about their business.

They had been in the tavern and Sheppard was asking about Ford when they were all shot from behind. He came to in a cell empty save for the rest of the team, each slowly waking up.

"What the hell happened?" demanded McKay.

"We were shot by the people in the tavern," Ronon answered.

"Why just stun us? Why not kill us?"

"I do not know, but we will find out before too long." Teyla walked to the door where she took up position listening for any approach.

"Hey, Kelly's in the jumper. He'll contact Atlantis if he doesn't hear from us and then come looking."

Sheppard was too much of an optimist. "He can't contact Atlantis because he doesn't know the Gate address."

"Ah. OK, he can go when he wants and contact them."

"Would he leave us?" McKay was sounding more paranoid.

"No. He's military. He wouldn't leave unless he saw no other option."

"I'm sure if Dr. Weir does not hear from us she will send another team."

"Doesn't anyone want to make a break for it?"

"And what do you propose?" asked McKay. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're unarmed."

"We overpower the guards next time they come back, take their weapons, then get back to the ship."

"Not bad except we don't know what's on the other side of that door. How many more guards are there? Where in the town are we? I say we wait until we see who has us and get some more information."

Ronon grudgingly recognized the truth in Sheppard's statement. They needed more information before making an escape plan.

"Someone is coming." Teyla moved away from the door.

"Move to the far wall!" ordered the guard from outside.

They moved away, opposite the door. Ronon heard the lock turn and the door opened slowly and another body was dragged inside. He recognized the jacket. It was Kelly. So much for Plan B.

At that moment a man with a scarred and pock-marked face entered the room. Ronon saw the others stiffen. "Maj. Sheppard. Dr. McKay. How kind of you to accept my invitation."

"Kolya. It's Lieutenant Colonel now."

"Congratulations." Kolya looked at Ronon. "This is the lieutenant's replacement?" He then turned away. "I heard of your search for Lt. Ford. Has he deserted his post?"

"You arranged for all this," said McKay. "You knew we would come for Ford."

"Of course. The Genii have spies on many worlds. We knew you were searching for him and arranged this trap. I knew Sheppard would not pass up such a chance to rescue a comrade."

Kelly groaned and slowly turned his head. "Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?"

"He's not dressed like you," Kolya said facing Sheppard, "but he came from the same direction as you." He headed for the door. "We will talk more later." The door was securely locked behind him.

Teyla went to help Kelly stand. "I did plan to rescue you," he said. "They just got me from behind."

"Now we can only hope Elizabeth will send another team before too soon."

"I'd say about another ten, fifteen minutes."

"How do you know?"

Kelly looked at him. "I talked to her. Remember that buzzing I heard? Believe it or not, it was the jumper."

"Oh, be serious."

"Rodney, I feel like it's reading my mind all the time." He turned back to Kelly. "But you don't have the gene."

"But I am telepathic. Maybe that's all it needed. Anyway, it dialed Atlantis and I told Elizabeth that if she didn't head from us within an hour to send another team."

"When they arrive, how can we warn them? The Genii have our radios."

"Did I forget to mention that it'll be my friends and SG-1?"

**************************************

Acastus Kolya, former general and hero of the Genii, walked up the stairs to the pitiful room that acted as his headquarters for this mission. Yes, it was still a mission with an objective and plan. His defeat and humiliation by Sheppard and his team-twice-was not something easily overcome. His position, his life, was taken from him and he knew he had to leave his home world before Cowen put an order out to kill him. Now that he had the Atlantis team locked up with no escape, he could take them back to Cowen and regain his position.

He closed the door to the office and sat behind the desk. Once he heard that Lt. Ford had left the city and that there were teams searching for him, it was easy to plant information to bait the trap. He had men positioned throughout the village and surrounding area to wait for the rescue team Weir would definitely send. There was no way they could get to his captives without being seen.

He would let them stew down there for a few hours before telling them his plans. Yes, this was a good day so far.

***************************

Eric followed Dr Weir to the armory where they were all given an automatic pistol and semi-automatic rifle with plenty of extra clips. "Why is it that our little vacation getaways never seem very relaxing?"

"Because we usually go with Alan," commented Shannon.

"You do have a point." Eric adjusted his vest, checking that its many compartments were closed.

"What can you tell us about the planet's culture?" asked Daniel.

"From what Teyla has told me, it's an agrarian society. I would place its technology near medieval level."

"So there shouldn't be too much of a problem getting them out," said Ryan. "If they are locked up, it's probably a very basic cell with a simple lock. As for weapons--unless it's the Genii--we can easily overpower them."

"Before we do anything, we should find out if the locals had any part in the trap," said Sam. "After all, we don't want to give the people the wrong
impression and create enemies."

"Once contact is made with Colonel Kelly, he will inform us of what has transpired."

"Then I think we're ready," Mitchell said.

"I'll take you to the jumper bay where you can meet your pilot."

The group followed Dr Weir to the jumper bay where a young pilot was waiting for them. He grinned when he recognized SG-1. "Sgt. Lewis," he saluted. "I was told I was needed to fly a rescue mission, but I didn't realize it would be you."

Sam and Mitchell returned his salute while Daniel explained. "As we were here, we volunteered."

Mitchell made the introductions. "There may be a few things you'll see and hear during this mission that you will need to immediately forget."

Lewis eyes the members of the TOC somehow knowing the strange happenings would originate with them. "Yes, sir. I'll wipe it from my mind."

"We'll need to fly in stealth mode," Sam instructed. "They may have been taken by hostiles who will be watching for a rescue ship."

The TOC followed SG-1 into the jumper. Eric remembered when he and Alan were fresh out of the Academy flying shuttles they used to pretend they were flying jumpers. Now here he was in the real thing. It just added another level of surrealism to the experience.

He looked over at Ryan and Shannon to see them wincing in pain, fingers massaging their temples. You guys okay?"

"I just have this buzzing in my head," groaned Ryan.

"It's like an incessant droning," put in Shannon.

"Do you want anything? I'm sure there's some aspirin in the first aid kit," said Daniel.

"No, it should be ok. I'll let you know."

Knowing his comrades were all right, Eric made his way past SG-1 where Mitchell was hearing from the other three how they had come across a similar ship on a previous mission. He entered the cockpit and spoke to Lewis. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, take a seat." He rested his hands on the control panel and the ship came to life. He next reached over and punched the keys that would open the Gate. "So, you're friends with Col. Kelly?"

"We're his team." The ship lowered into the Gateroom and Eric looked at the rippling blue in front of him. "This is just so--"

"Cool?" Lewis supplied. "I know. It's still relatively new to me too. I've only been here a few months so I haven't been assigned a regular team yet."

"Part of the pilot pool, eh?"

Lewis chuckled. "I like that. Here we go!"

****************

John finished explaining their history with the Genii. Relating it like that made it sound like some great epic that PBS could air for a couple months.

"Kolya's certainly restraining himself well if that's why he wants revenge," commented Kelly. "He must have something planned for you."

"Sorry you had to get caught up in this."

"So we know the Genii have us but we didn't learn anything else," declared Rodney. "Really doesn't help our situation any."

"We did gain one thing from that visit," said Teyla.

"What?"

"We will now be able to communicate with the rescue team," she smiled with a glance at Kelly.

"For that matter, why can't he just use his little doohickey and get us out of here?"

Kelly pushed up both his sleeves showing his bare arms. "Don't you think I would have?"

"How did they know what it was?" asked Ronon.

"They didn't, that's why they took it. Didn't want to take any chances." John paced the room.

"I might have an idea." Kelly sat cross-legged on the floor against the wall. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

To John it looked like he was going into a trance, but for what purpose? Maybe it helped boost his telepathy or something. It was probably similar to the techniques Teyla used when she attempted to connect with the Wraith. She and Ronon watched patiently waiting to see what would come of his trance. Rodney, however, squatted and stared at his face. John was waiting for him to poke Kelly just to see if he would feel it.

A couple minutes later, Kelly opened his eyes and Rodney fell back with a start. "How long?"

"A little over five minutes," John answered.

"OK. Aside from your friend Kolya, there are at least five others within the building and maybe about a dozen out searching for the ship."

John wondered how Kelly did it but now was not the time to question it. He helped the other man stand. "Any ideas where we are?"

"From what I could tell, the cellar of the local government building."

"It would be the only one to have cells such as this," commented Teyla.

"What of weapons?" asked Ronon. "What are we up against?"

"Wait a minute here! This guy sits on the floor, goes into a 'trance' then tells us about the Genii? You really believe this?"

"Would you have believed sharing your body with another consciousness if it hadn't happened to you?" countered Kelly.

John chuckled. He remembered how they all thought McKay had gone around the bend that time. So now that they had that extra information they wanted, what were they going to do with it?

"So now what? The odds are still against us."

"Not anymore." Kelly smiled. "They're here."

*****************

When they materialized on the other side of the Stargate, Teal'c looked at Ryan Kelly and Shannon Flynn who both seemed in some pain. He hoped that the medication Colonel Carter found for them would relieve the cause. Why were they the only ones affected? It could not be because they were from the future or Eric Rader would have similar complaints. "Could your pain be connected to your abilities?" he inquired.

"I never thought of that," said Ryan Kelly.

"Maybe because we're sensitive to certain wavelengths or whatever," added Shannon Flynn.

"I think I've located Alan if you guys are up to making contact," called Eric Rader from the cockpit.

"OK." The two members of the TOC closed their eyes and contacted their friend.

Such a way of communication would be a boon to the war against the Ori. Even if there were one psychic on each SG team, it would keep tactics and strategy secret. Perhaps if one were powerful enough, a psychic could cause disruption among the Ori, possibly isolate a Prior from his masters.

Shannon Flynn and Ryan Kelly opened their eyes. "They're being held by the Genii in the cellar of the government building--that's what Alan called it anyway." Ryan Kelly stood and walked to the cockpit.

"What of guards?" questioned Colonel Mitchell. "That might help a smidge."

"Aside from Kolya, there are five others in the building and more out searching for the ship." She walked to the cockpit as well.

Teal'c stood and followed her and watched as she and Ryan Kelly placed their hands on the control panel by Sergeant Lewis. A look of intense relief passed over her face and Ryan Kelly smiled.

"What are you two doing?" questioned Eric Rader.

"Alan told us he heard the buzzing in his head too and this is how he got it to stop," answered Shannon Flynn.

"Did it work?"

"Oh, yeah. With an added bonus," Ryan Kelly said.

Teal'c wondered what such a bonus could be.

*****************

Rodney still could not come to grips with Kelly's "abilities". He believed in facts and numbers. Physics was the science. For him, this telepathy and stuff was like something out of Trek. They only had his word about how many Genii they were facing. They hadn't actually seen anything.

"So are we just going to sit here and play 'I Spy' while we wait?" The idea of sitting here helpless was not the impression he wanted to make for his reunion with Samantha Carter.

"Of course not, Rodney. We'll coordinate an attack with SG-1 and Kelly's team." Sheppard said it so matter-of-factly it irked.

"So we get to overpower the guards after all." Ronon was just happy to have the opportunity to hit someone.

"Then we retrieve our weapons from Kolya," put in Teyla.

"I do have another idea," said Kelly. "One of my team can bring us some weapons. It'll give us a better chance."

"Sure. That'll be great," agreed Sheppard.

Now that I have to see.

A few minutes later a man appeared in the center of the room a few steps away from Kelly. He just appeared: no Gate, no beam, and no rings. Just a small device strapped to the wrist. To have such a device could change the course of their battle against the Wraith... His mind went into overdrive contemplating the possibilities.

The newcomer looked about. "You've certainly ventured off the beaten path this vacation." He unslung the pack from his shoulder and opened it to reveal a number of guns, clips, and even a couple zats.

"You should know I don't go to the usual tourist traps."

"Wha-- How did-- That's impossible!"

"Obviously not," said Teyla.

"I'm not one to question the science of how you got here. Lt. Col. John Sheppard." He held out his hand.

"Capt. Ryan Kelly. Yes, we're brothers."

"Twins, actually," said Alan Kelly.

After introductions were made, Ronon got straight to the point. "So what's the plan?"

********************

Daniel smiled as Ryan disappeared with the weapons to help the Atlantis team escaped. In the back of his mind, he could hear Jack saying We gotta get some of those!

"I still can't get used to that," said Mitchell.

"Every once and awhile it hits me what we're doing and I'm amazed," said Eric.

Mitchell looked at Shannon. "You'll let us know the moment you hear from them, right?"

"Of course."

Daniel put that comment down to nerves and waiting and hoped that Mitchell would realize that Shannon wouldn't keep anything from them. Not knowing if Mitchell would say anything, he did. "Not that we think you're holding anything back."

"I'm sorry," Mitchell apologized. "It was a stupid thing to say. I'm just not used to all this," he said motioning to his head.

"Apology accepted."

"What do you think they'll do?" Daniel wanted to know.

"Alan will probably be able to locate the Genii leader and Ryan will move them to where they can retrieve their weapons and Alan's device. That's probably when they'll need us to create a diversion," speculated Sam.

"We just have to hope that Sheppard doesn't want to make it personal," Mitchell said.

"He might if it's Kolya," put in Eric.

"Let's just say it is Kolya," said Daniel. "Would this be something sanctioned by the Genii or is it a personal matter on his part?"

"It is most likely the latter," answered Teal'c. "From what we have learned, the Genii would be content with any of the Atlantis teams. Kolya has arranged this to specifically lure that of Col. Sheppard."

With a look towards the town, Daniel wondered what the showdown between the two men would come to.

****************

Teyla felt better armed and she could tell Col. Sheppard and Ronon felt the same. McKay was given a strange weapon he and the brothers called a zat and he appeared comfortable with it.

"From what I can tell, Kolya is away from the office where he has probably stashed our gear," said Col. Kelly.

"I'll be able to home in on Alan's machine but as we don't know what we're up against, everyone face away from me when we go."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Dr McKay.

"The machine generates a field that will enable us all to travel together. The closer you stand to me, the better."

Teyla watched as Col. Kelly took position beside his brother. She then stood next to him, her back to Capt. Kelly. Col. Sheppard stood nest to her and McKay and Ronon were the last to join the circle.

"Weapons ready," ordered Col. Kelly. "Time to tell the others we're on the move."

After a moment of disorientation, she saw she was in an office of sorts. There was no one inside and Ronon moved to the only doorway to watch for the approach of any Genii. At that same moment, gunfire could be heard coming from below. That must be the diversion.

Col. Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and the Kelly brothers began to search the desk and cabinets. "We'd better hurry in case Kolya realizes it's a diversion," said the colonel.

She walked to the window that overlooked the square. The townspeople had disappeared inside so it was easy to see both sides of the fight. Across the square she could see six figures under cover firing weapons similar to what she carried. They could only be SG-1 and the other members of Col. Kelly's team. She changed her angle to try to see the Genii but it was near impossible.

*********************

"How does it look, Teyla?" John asked.

"SG-1 has taken position on the opposite side of the square and are firing upon the Genii. I cannot see the Genii below us."

"Bingo!" shouted McKay. "False bottom to the chest." He took out the weapons and handed them out.

Kelly held out his hand and McKay reluctantly returned the machine. "You've had enough accomplishments, Rodney. You don't need to steal someone else's thunder."

John turned to Ronon. "We clear?"

"Clear."

"All right." He took the lead and everyone fell in behind him, the brothers in the rear. As they neared the stairs, he heard footsteps rushing up towards him and paused at the corner waiting for whoever it was to get closer.

A man turned the corner and stopped, seeing six weapons pointed at him. His hands moved out from his body. "I underestimated you, Col. Sheppard."

"It's becoming habit with you, Kolya." He nodded for Ronon to disarm him. "I will say you are looking good for a dead man."

"As long as Cowen believes it."

He motioned for Kolya to turn around and walk ahead of them. "It doesn't really matter what Cowen thinks as he's dead."

Kolya stopped. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Why would I lie? I didn't like either of you but at least you were up front about what you wanted."

"There was a coup," put in McKay. "Ladon is the new leader."

"And how do you know all this?"

"Ladon used us to get Cowen and his guard away from your world. Also, as we helped cure his sister, I believe we're on his good side at the moment."

"How wonderful for you."

"If you tell your men to lay down their weapons and end this, we might be able to make a deal."

******************

Sam was surprised when the Genii suddenly stopped fighting. It was highly unlikely that they would just stop so they must have succeeded inside. She slowly stood, hoping the halt of fire wasn't just a ply to draw them out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the others stand as well.

Mitchell was the first to move towards the building, finger on the trigger just in case. As they fell in behind him, Shannon said, "It's okay. They got Kolya."

Sure enough when they reached the entrance, the Genii soldiers were standing with their hands behind their heads. The doors opened and Sam could see the group approaching. The first through the door had to be Kolya as he was dressed as the other Genii. Behind him were the members of SGA-1 as well as the Kelly brothers.

"I see the plan worked," commented Daniel.

Col. Sheppard saw them waiting and gave them a casual salute. "Thanks for the rescue. When Kelly said you were they team coming after us, I didn't believe it."

"We were in the neighborhood." Mitchell returned the salute.

"We were working on a plan," interjected a familiar voice.

"McKay?" Is he actually holding a zat?

"Col. Carter." He sounded cold and uncaring but his fidgeting told her he was nervous.

"I will contact you in three days' time, Colonel," said Kolya. "We can discuss the rest of the matter then."

"Definitely." Sheppard and his team began to walk away.

With a quick look at her Mitchell started after Sheppard. "You gonna tell me why you made a deal with that guy?"

"I'll fill you in on the way back to the jumper."

"Where are you going?" asked Rodney as he pushed his way forward.

"To the jumper. I kinda wanna get back to Atlantis."

"I thought we could, um..." He glanced over at Alan who was now reunited with his team.

"After being locked up in that cell, I really want a walk in fresh air."

Of course McKay would try to get out of any strenuous activity.

"Me too," said a tall man with a beard and dreadlocks. Must be Ronon Dex.

McKay seemed to be ready with some witty retort but caught her eye and changed his mind. I wonder if he's trying to show me he's changed?

"I'll call Sgt. Lewis and let him know we're on our way back."

"Good idea, Sam. He can send word back to Atlantis," agreed Mitchell.

She spoke into her radio. "Sgt. Lewis, we're on our way back. You can power up the ship and send the news back to Dr. Weir."

"Yes, ma'am. Whoa! How did that happen?"

"How did what happen, sergeant?"

"The jumper just powered up on its own and dialed the Gate."

Sam worried that the Genii had done something after all until she saw the members of the TOC smiling. "I don't think you need to worry. Just pass the word to Atlantis."

"Why did you tell him not to worry?" asked Daniel. "This could be serious."

"Because I think I know who did it." She faced the TOC. "That's how you got the buzzing to stop. It was the ship recognizing your abilities. You bonded with it somehow and you can control it from a distance."

"That is how you were able to contact Atlantis without knowledge of the Gate address," stated Teal'c.

"That's...convenient," said McKay.

"It's goddamn awesome!" declared Mitchell and Sheppard in near unison.

*************

Elizabeth smiled as she thought on the return of her Number One team and their guests and wondered if they were all equally prone to finding themselves in similar situations. SG-1 she knew from experience had such a tendency and mused on whether it was part and parcel of being a flagship team. From what she knew of Col. Kelly and his team, they were the only members of the TOC, which greatly increased the odds.

After Carson had examined everyone and re-bandaged Col. Kelly's wound, they held a quick debriefing where she first learned of John's offer to Kolya. On top of his making the offer without consulting her, John wanted her to call Ladon and make arrangements.

She approached the large glass door at the end of the corridor and, as it opened, she inhaled deeply. There was nothing like the sea air. She followed the sound of conversation and beer bottles and came upon the three teams sitting in what could pass for beach chairs exchanging tales of one-upmanship. "The Dirty Dozen. I had a feeling I'd find you here."

"And how did you know that?" asked Rodney.

"Col. Kelly looked down at the water after his 'nap' and said all he needed was a lounge chair and a pitcher of beer and he'd be happy."

"I'm surprised you remembered," replied Alan.

"I think she stores up information on everyone in case she needs it later," commented John.

"Are you accusing me of blackmail?" she asked, feigning shock.

"No, just advantageous negotiating."

"Elizabeth, sit down and take a load off. I'm sure the city can spare you for awhile." Daniel motioned to an extra chair.

"Please," added Shannon. "Teyla, Sam, and I could use another woman to help the
odds."

Elizabeth sat down and took a beer from Ronon. "I wanted to let you know I contacted Ladon and he's willing to talk with Kolya on a neutral planet of our choosing. I told him that you would get back to him with the details."

"Great. I'll contact Kolya tomorrow." John sounded less than enthusiastic.

Elizabeth took a sip of her beer. "So, are you here solving the problems of the universe?"

"Nothing so grand," responded Teyla. "It is more like children trying to out-do one another."

"Daniel can't use his ascension story," put in Eric. "It has to be something we can at least come close to."

"Who's in the lead?"

"I believe that the colonels are too close to call in this instance," Teal'c informed her.

"But don't you have an edge?" she asked Alan.

"No stories from the past. Same rules as Daniel."

"I think we're in the final round," said Ronon.

"OK. I believe one of my better schemes was when I instigated a war then sold arms to both sides." Ryan took a swig from his bottle.

"Not bad," said Col. Mitchell. "But I think I have you beat. In a cavern under Glastonbury Tor, I pulled the sword from the stone and fought a hologram knight in order to gain access to Merlin's treasure." The look on his face seemed to say 'Top that!'

"Ah, but did you figure out a way to open every Stargate simultaneously then use an Ancient weapon to annihilate the Replicators?"

"Ooh, good one, Sam, but not good enough."

"Oh, come on! That was an amazing story!" declared John. "I just have to hear yours."

Alan looked down at his left hand and wiggled his fingers.

"Oh, yeah, that should do it," commented Eric with a grin.

"I fought a duel with a mercenary and lost my hand."

"You look pretty whole to me," said Col. Mitchell.

"Looks can be deceiving." Alan extended his hand, exposing the wrist, and gently touched the area with the index finger of his right hand and a small panel opened to reveal sophisticated circuitry.

"How very Luke Skywalker of you," said Rodney dryly.

"I think I can come close to or better that," said John. "How about flying a nuclear bomb into a hive ship?"

"The Daedalus beamed you out of that," argued Rodney.

"But I didn't know it was there, did I?"

"I don't think I've ever done anything that crazy," commented Alan.

"What about the time--" started Shannon.

"I don't think we need to go on," Ryan said, stopping her. "This could easily go on well into the night. I don't know about the rest of you, but the beer and sun has made me tired and a little lightheaded."

"I could do with something more substantial than chips and dip myself," agreed Col. Mitchell.

"Well, there's the cafeteria," put in Rodney, "but I don't know if I'd call it substantial."

Elizabeth could easily see that the adrenaline rush had ended and everyone's energy levels were low. By mutual consent they began to pick up after themselves each taking a chair and splitting the empty bottles. Ronon found himself in charge of the cooler. This easy bond between them was wonderful to see and she wondered if it would have happened without the mission.

As they all made their way inside, she reminded her team of their responsibilities. "Rodney, John, remember we have our weekly briefing with the SGC tomorrow." She heard a groan and couldn't tell who it was.

She lingered, looking over the ocean. They were lucky, she knew, that Col. Kelly and his team arrived with SG-1 when they did. She didn't want to think on what could have happened if they hadn't.

"Dr. Weir, is anything the matter?"

"No, Teyla. I was just thinking in what we would have done if SG-1 and the TOC hadn't been here."

"You would have done the same thing. It just would have taken a little longer, that is all. We were already forming a plan. It is no use to wonder on what might have been especially when the resolution was positive in nature."

"Thank you, Teyla. I know I have a tendency to over-think things. We have a saying 'It's no use crying over spilt milk'." She smiled at the other woman's puzzled look. "It doesn't make sense to show regret over things that can't be changed. You just have to carry on. Which I guess I have to do now. I have a few things to finalize for tomorrow as well."

"Good evening, Dr. Weir."

***************

Cam woke up the next morning a little later than usual. He didn't know if he should attribute it to the time lag, the mission, the beer, or the late-night gab session in Jackson's room. And the rooms were just fantastic, like some post-modern art-deco suite. All it needed was the large plasma TV on the wall, the matching sound system, and, of course, the wet bar.

He rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom and relieved himself of all his excess liquid libations. He then splashed his face with cold water to help himself fully wake. He then tugged at his shirt in a vain attempt to get rid of the wrinkles.

He sat on the edge of the bed and shoved on his boots. As he was tying up the first one there was a knock on his door. "Come in!"

The door opened he saw Teal'c, Carter, Eric, and Shannon. "It appears we have all overslept."

Cam finished tying his bootlaces. "I'm guessing Jackson is down in the Archives."

"I haven't seen him," said Carter, "but it's a safe bet."

"Where are the brothers?"

"Rodney wanted to run some tests with the jumpers," answered Eric. "Something about the reaction time of a hands-on pilot versus the psychic link. I'm kinda upset they didn't wake me. I would've liked to have seen it."

"That's probably why they didn't," said Shannon as they left his rooms and walked the hall. "You know Alan likes to show off when he has an audience."

"I think that most pilots do," Cam agreed. "You can't really help it."

They made a stop at the mess for coffee and a quick bite before heading to the balcony where McKay was conducting his experiment. Cam was surprised to see the fourth member of his team there with a camcorder in his hand. "Jackson, what're you doing here? I thought you were in the Archives."

"I was," Jackson answered. "I heard McKay and Sheppard talking about this when I was getting coffee and figured Jack would want to see it."

"How many hours do you have?" asked Sam.

"I'm not really sure." He aimed the camera back to the sky. "They're due back in a bit."

"Will you quit your yammering?" demanded McKay. "I'm trying to study these read-outs."

"They're not even here yet," protested Eric.

Sam put up a hand as if to prevent any further argument and sidled up to the physicist. Leaning over his shoulder, she asked, "What are we looking at?"

McKay got flustered and, between stutters, explained that the readings were near identical, Alan having a slightly quicker reaction time since he didn't need to worry about controls. "We have one more move planned. Perhaps you should watch to see if you can tell which is which."

"You're not going to tell us?" asked Shannon.

"Of course not. Where's the fun in that?" He spoke into his communicator. "OK, gentlemen, last one when you're ready."

Sam joined them at the rail. "What was that all about?" Cam asked, hooking his thumb back towards McKay.

"He has a bit of a crush on me," she answered somewhat embarrassed. "I just thought I'd take advantage of it."

Cam grinned. "I just never pictured you as using your feminine wiles like that."

"Well, I know it works on Rodney and puts him off-balance enough that he forgets what he was arguing about."

"They are starting," Teal'c stated indicating the sky in front of them.

Cam didn't know what he was expecting to see; certainly not something that would rival the Blue Angels. It was intricately choreographed and all that was missing was the colorful exhaust. He was having a hard time picking which one was Sheppard and which was Kelly. Just when he was decided, the other jumper would do something to make him question his choice. They finished with a dramatic fly-over.

"Damn! I wouldn't expect that kind of movement by the way they look," he commented.

"Granted they don't look as slick as some, but they can move," McKay said proudly as if he had designed them himself.

"So who was who?" asked Jackson. "I say the one on the right is Alan."

"I guess I can have them show you." McKay spoke to the pilots through his communicator yet again. "Your audience wants to know who's who so do something special."

One of the jumpers built up speed, pulling away from the other. It then went vertical at a 90° angle for a good while before banking left and straightening out. Cam's jaw dropped at the move. "What the hell was that?"

"Ace's High," answered Eric proudly.

"By elimination, the other must be Col. Sheppard," stated Teal'c.

"Looks like he's not even going to try to do anything," Sam observed.

"Not many do," Shannon said with a smile.

"Who can blame them?"

***********************

John was floored by that move. He would have to figure that one out. Aside from its jaw-dropping effect, it would be ideal for evasive purposes as it would be unexpected.

He looked out at the open sky. He so did not want to go back. He hadn't had the chance to just fly. He had missed the exhilaration, the freedom it provided. If it weren't for the weekly briefing he would stay up and try a few more tricks but the last thing he needed was Gen. Landry thinking him irresponsible. He saw Alan was already directing his jumper back to the bay and he reluctantly followed.

That he had to admit was truly amazing. To be able to control and maneuver the ship by thought alone was unbelievable. He knew McKay had mentioned to Kelly about testing range and distance too. That would need to wait until after the briefing.

The brothers were waiting for him in the jumper bay. "That was some move you did at the end. You have to teach me."

"We called it 'Ace's High' at the Academy. Last I checked, only two pilots could do it."

"Who's the other?"

"Eric." He took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" John asked him.

"Yeah. It just took more our of me than I thought."

"Let's get you off your feet then. Don't need you falling down and re-injuring yourself. That's my job."

"I could do with a coffee and maybe some form of sugar."

They headed down the stairs to the control room, "Do you think it will always take two to work it?"

"I was just there to ground Alan and relay messages from Rodney. I'm sure if we stayed around to get more proficient, there'd be no need," answered Ryan.

"Don't tell that to Rodney or he'll never let you leave."

"They met up with the others outside the briefing room. Elizabeth looked at her watch the moment she saw him. "I am impressed. You made it with minutes to spare."

"Hey, I'm usually on time for these."

"True, but with you flying and Rodney involved in a new project, I didn't expect to see you at all." She looked to Rodney. "How did it go?"

"My preliminary findings show that Col. Kelly's reaction time was about 20% quicker than Col. Sheppard's. What I'd like to try next is increase the distance between the colonel and the jumper to see his range."

"I don't see why we need to do all these tests when no one on Atlantis is telepathic," commented Ronon. "It seems to me that you're doing all this work for nothing."

"It will give us more insight to the Ancients," answered Col. Carter before Rodney could start. "It will let us understand how the technology worked."

"Plus it shows us that they were telepathic," added Daniel.

"And if someone else with these abilities arrives, we'll know what to do," Elizabeth finished.

"So this is worth pursuing?" asked Teyla.

"Definitely," McKay replied. "The more tests we run, the better our chances of mastering this."

"I'm willing to help out," volunteered Mitchell. "I don't have the gene, but I'm sure there's something I can do."

"Ah, not this time 'round," said Alan. "You guys are going through the Gate when they dial the SGC."

***********************

Daniel looked at Alan. Is he always dropping bombs like this? "Why would we do that when you can take us back any time?"

"I like to keep my promises. Besides, Landry could use a laugh. Well, at least a chuckle."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam.

"You'll know when you get there," he replied with a sly smile.

Daniel knew Alan was being cryptic for the fun of it, not because it was something to do with the timeline so he didn't bother asking any more questions. His teammates must have felt the same because they stayed quiet as well.

"Why do you not question his reasons?" asked Teyla.

"It is because he knows things we do not," responded Teal'c.

"And for your convenience, the porters have brought your bags," said Eric as he and Shannon arrived with everyone's packs.

"You had this thing planned," accused Mitchell.

"Pretty much." Alan shook Mitchell's hand. "You take it easy."

"You're not going back with us?" questioned Sam.

"No, I think we'll hang out for a bit till they get this thing with the Genii sorted."

"You just don't want to face what's waiting for you," teased Daniel.

"There is that."

"It was an honor working with you once again, Col. Kelly," said Teal'c.

"Perhaps when we meet again, it will be under more pleasurable circumstances."

"Same here, Teal'c. A nice little spot away from it all."

"Don't stay a stranger," Daniel said holding out his hand.

"'Course not. I'm sure I can arrange a few more field trips."

"Dial the Gate," Elizabeth ordered. As it was being dialed, she turned to them. "Now that you've seen our accommodations, you'll have to spread the word."

"We'll make it the most sought-after vacation spot in two galaxies. Hell, Jackson can edit his film into a promotional video," joked Mitchell.

The wormhole opened. "Stargate Command, this is Atlantis. Before we begin out briefing, I'm sending something through."

After a slight delay, WO Harriman's voice sounded through the Gateroom. "Very well, Dr. Weir. The iris is open and we are ready to receive your package."

Daniel looked to the upper level where Elizabeth stood and experienced a strange twist on déjà vu. The action and the view were near identical to that before every mission but the location was wrong.

Sheppard gave them a casual salute while McKay looked longingly at Sam, not caring if anyone noticed. Teyla and Ronon just stood still nearby.

"SG-1, you have a go," Elizabeth said with a smile.

Daniel smiled genuinely in response before turning around and walking through the Gate.

**************

Gen. Hank Landry walked into the Gateroom to await the arrival of the package from Atlantis. Odds were it was some sort of Ancient device that wanted Dr. Jackson to look at. Too bad he wasn't here, having just left with the rest of SG-1 on some mission to the future. He chuckled and shook his head. I can't believe I think of that so matter-of-fact.

He stood at the base of the ramp and was surprised to see his flagship team walk through the Gate. "Col Mitchell, how did you end up in Atlantis? You just left--" he looked at his watch "-five minutes ago."

Jackson laughed. "That's why."

"What is amusing, Daniel Jackson?"

" 'I like to keep my promises.'"

Col. Carter realized what he meant. "Alan promised he would have us back five minutes after we left."

"Damn, he is good!" Col. Mitchell exclaimed in appreciation.

"It sounds like we have a long debriefing ahead of us. Despite how...interesting it sounds, we have to wait until after the conference with Atlantis."

"Very good, sir."

With that, Landry walked up to the briefing room, a slight bounce in his step. Leave it to SG-1 to keep things from getting stale. Too bad he had to sit through the drudgery that was the weekly Atlantis briefing before he could hear about the mission. He sat at his chair in the empty briefing room. "Dr. Weir, let's get this started."

Time's Glory: An Stargate fic (1/2)

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 23:51:43 GMT

Title: Time's Glory
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: SG1, SGA, OCs (The TOC)
Word Count: 7763
Rating: PG-13 ?
Notes: This is the sequel to "Count Time" and "Long Time Coming" in which SG-1 meets up with Col. Alan Kelly, a time traveler from the future, and his team. His stories can be found here: The TOC Files. This takes place during season 2 but there are no specific spoilers except perhaps for "Coup d'Etat". After that it kinda becomes AU as I took awhile to finish it. There is a third with the possibility of a fourth if I get some ideas.

TIME'S GLORY

"Time's glory is to calm contending kings,
To unmask falsehood and bring truth to light"
Shakespeare, "Rape of Lucrece"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Elizabeth rested her arms on the railing and gazed at the Gate, marveling at how something so innocuous could change the course of so many lives. She sighed as she enjoyed the peaceful moment as they were so infrequent. When she wasn't trying to deal with imminent catastrophe, she was monitoring the off-world missions and keeping track of friends and foes.

What the hell? In less than it took her to blink, two men appeared in the Gateroom. There had been no light like that given off from an Asgard beam and the Gate hadn't activated. It was a new and possibly dangerous technology. She was just about to call for Security when she noticed one of the men wore an SGC uniform. The other was unfamiliar. As the SGC man slowly turned she recognized the face and smiled. "Dr. Jackson, what brings you to Atlantis?"

"Dr. Weir. Elizabeth. It's good to see you. I was on a mission last time you were at the SGC. Though how you could pull yourself away... This place is amazing."

"It is, isn't it?" Elizabeth knew that Daniel would go on indefinitely if given the chance. "You still didn't answer me."

"I brought him," said the other man.

"Oh, sorry. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Col. Alan Kelly."

Elizabeth got a better look at the man as they shook hands. He was just about six-feet tall with an athletic build. His sandy brown hair was a bit longer than the normal military cut but it looked good on him. His eyes were a deep emerald green that held some amusement like he was the only one who knew the punch-line.

"Have we met before, Colonel? Your name is familiar."

"I don't think so, Doctor."

Then she remembered. "You helped SG-1 on a mission four years ago."

"I forgot you read the files," said Daniel.

"One of the more sensational ones, too. I mean, time travel?"

"Believe me, we were all a bit skeptic to begin with," said Daniel. "As a matter of fact, Sam, Teal'c, and Col. Mitchell are still in the future."

"Daniel," Col. Kelly warned.

The archeologist reigned in his enthusiasm. "I'd better not say any more. I might let something slip."

"If you gentlemen would care to follow me, I'd like to introduce you to some of the expedition members and then we can find you some quarters."

As she walked, Elizabeth spoke into her comms unit. "Will Col. Sheppard, Dr. McKay, Dr. Beckett, Teyla, and Ronan please come to the briefing room? We have visitors." She led them up the stairs past the control center for the Gate and a large number of the city's systems. The technicians looked warily at the new arrivals before turning back to their work.

"Sam would love to take a look at this," commented Daniel.

"Col. Carter joining you?"

"In a couple of days," answered Col. Kelly. "Along with the rest of SG-1 and my team."

"You have a team as well, Colonel?"

"Alan, please. And yes. We're very similar to SG-1 in a way. I'm sure the others at the briefing will have questions and I'd rather explain it all at once."

"Of course. Right this way."

*********

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was ready to enjoy a little downtime. He had his beer, some popcorn, and War and Peace. Sitting back on his bed, he opened the book to page 26 and read one line before he heard Elizabeth's voice calling him to the briefing room. Visitors? It's too early for the Daedalus to be back and I doubt any of our allies want to associate with us right now. He closed his book, swung himself off his bed, and then headed up to meet the visitors.

He met up with Rodney just outside. "Any idea what's going on?"

"I'm just as much in the dark as you are, Rodney. I was just trying to get some reading done."

"Reach page 30 yet? I, on the other hand, was trying to run some diagnostics to improve the interface between our technology and the Ancients'."

John sighed inwardly at Rodney's not-so-subtle bragging. Yes, the man was brilliant, but he came with an equal dose of arrogance. All he needed was to be firm and Rodney would stop rambling. "I'm sure you'll be back to your diagnostics before too long. Well just have to make a show of some sort and then they'll go."

The briefing room door was open and he could see that he and Rodney were the last to arrive. Elizabeth, Teyla, Beckett, and Ronan were sitting at the table with the two visitors. One in civvies--denim shirt, grey pants, bomber jacket--was around 6-foot and carried himself like he was military though the hair was even longer than his own. He then looked at the other and recognized him from his brief time at the Ancient outpost in Antarctica. "Dr. Jackson."

"Is the rest of SG-1 here?" asked Rodney eagerly. Practically everyone knew he had a thing for Col. Carter.

"John, if you and Rodney would take a seat, we can make introductions and get the briefing underway."

John took his seat between Teyla and McKay.

Elizabeth began. "Some of you know Dr. Daniel Jackson from the SGC. He is largely responsible for this expedition."

"I really don't think--" Dr. Jackson started.

"Our other guest is Col. Alan Kelly who has assisted SG-1 in the past. I'll leave it to them to explain their presence."

Dr. Jackson coughed a little nervously. "I'd just like to say that I'm glad to have finally made it here and would love to take the time to examine all that you've found. As for how I got here, it wasn't through the Gate or via Daedalus. This is where I need you to suspend your disbelief." He took a deep breath. "Col. Kelly is from 300 years in the future and has the ability to time travel."

John could not believe what he was hearing. Granted, a couple of years ago he would have scoffed at aliens and the Lost City of Atlantis. He surreptitiously looked at everyone around the table and the only one who didn't seem too stunned was Elizabeth. Could she have known about this already? It's the only explanation. Of course! She was in charge of the SGC at one point. She must've read the mission report.

"It's a theoretical impossibility!" blurted Rodney. "The energy needed is massive and--"

"Dr. McKay, you're talking to the wrong person. I don't know how it works; only that it does. I've been to Bosworth Field, Elizabethan London, and I flew in World War I."

John couldn't help himself. "What?"

The colonel looked at him. "Sopwith Camel."

John was impressed. From all he had read, he knew those were difficult to handle. "So what are you doing here?"

"SG-1 helped us defeat an agitator who turned out to be Ba'al. I was placed on sick leave so I thought I'd bring Daniel here as a thank you."

"Were you wounded in battle?" asked Teyla.

"I was shot with a staff weapon. I had a reaction to the medication Dr. Lam gave me and it got infected."

"They kept him sedated for two days to get a head start on the healing process," put in Dr. Jackson. "He's only been awake for about four hours."

Wow! If I'd been in a hospital for two days after a serious wound, I'd just want to veg on the couch. John could see Ronon was looking at the colonel with the closest thing he had ever seen to admiration. He was so stoic it was hard to tell.

"We'll try to make your stay as restful as possible, Colonel."

"Thank you, Dr. Weir. I'm sure I can find a few things to interest me here."

"That's it!"

All eyes turned to Beckett. "What?" John asked the doctor.

"The Competition," he stated looking at Kelly. "It's been bothering me but now I know why you're so familiar. You were in The Competition."

"What? That sixties band?" asked McKay.

"Congratulations, Dr. Beckett. It took Daniel a lot longer to come to that conclusion."

"Hey!"

**************

Teyla looked at the visitors, trying to get a feel for their character. She had heard Dr. Daniel Jackson's name spoken with both respect and admiration. For, as she understood, he was the one who discovered the Gate address to Atlantis. He was also a soldier, helping to destroy many of Earth's enemies. She could tell, however, that first and foremost he was a scholar.

The other, Col. Kelly, was most definitely a soldier. She could see it in the way he held himself, seemingly relaxed but constantly alert. Though she knew none of the incidents he listed from Earth's history, the list itself was impressive.

"It must be difficult going into the past, knowing what's to come."

"And not to say a word. That takes willpower," said McKay.

"Why wouldn't you say what you know?" questioned Ronan.

"In the times Alan visited, to claim to know the future was viewed as heresy and it could get you killed. Even nowadays not many would believe," explained Dr. Jackson as the scholar emerged. "Even so, to try and change the past would completely erase the future."

"That's why we're called the Temporal Observers," said the colonel. "It's the first rule."

"What's the second?" Sheppard asked.

"I don't think we've come up with that one yet."

Teyla knew she was going to enjoy spending time with the new arrivals.

**************************

Rodney could not believe it when he saw Dr. Jackson in the briefing room. His first instinct was to look around for the rest of SG-1. Usually wherever he was, she-they weren't far behind.

And as for the colonel. Time travel. A likely story. His hands itched to get a hold of his time machine, though. Ugh, that sounds so B-movie. I'll just call it his temporal device. Yeah, that sounds much better. "Hey, how did you know I was Dr. McKay?"

"Dr. Weir called you Rodney."

"So?"

"I guess it couldn't hurt to say."

"Are you sure, Alan?" asked Dr. Jackson. "I just thought you might want to contain it or something."

"I'm not going to give out any details so don't try to pry anything out of me. Everything and everyone associated with this expedition are well-known in my time. It's acquired near-mythic status."

Rodney's chest puffed up at that thought. They probably studied him alongside Einstein and Keppler.

"Dr. Beckett's study of Wraith biology was groundbreaking."

"Wh--?"

"Sorry, Rodney," said Sheppard in mock sympathy. "Looks like medicine won after all."

Rodney looked over at Carson who was sitting up a little straighter. Well, maybe he needs a little boost. Me, I know my work will live on.

***************

Hearing that his work would be considered groundbreaking, Carson sat up a little straighter. He now had his own ammunition that would be sure to quiet Rodney. Whenever he felt he wasn't getting anywhere on his research, he'd remember this moment to help him keep going. The look on Rodney's face would make him smile as he did so.

He also wouldn't mind trying to get some of the colonel's blood to attempt to discover why he had a reaction to basic antibiotics. He would probably have to be sneaky about it. As the city's chief physician, he would need to check the progress of his wound, make sure he was healing properly. That would be the best way to go about it.

"How did you get to be The Competition?" he asked.

"It was a lark, basically. It was for my brother Evan's birthday that we went to Hamburg to meet the Beatles. We became friends and when we met them again in London 1963, they talked us into recording. Simple really."

"So you can just take these machines and go when and where you like?"

"I'm the only one who can use it anyway. After a nasty incident, the inventor added a little something that makes it respond to the original wearer's biochemistry. Besides, we can return before we're missed."

"How are your missions chosen?" asked Elizabeth.

"There's a committee made up of both Government and Military officials. I don't know what criteria they follow, but they choose the missions, and believe me, they're not always the most peaceful. The French Revolution, Battle of the Boyne, 12th century England, World War I. On top of that, I still have to fly regular missions."

"I'd never know if I were coming or going," commented Col. Sheppard.

"I'd probably have a nervous breakdown," said Rodney.

"As this is meant to be a fact-finding tour for Daniel, I'm closing the floor."

"Very well," said Elizabeth. "We'll find your quarters where you can stow your gear and then we can start the tour."

*****************

Ronon watched as everyone filed out of the briefing room. McKay tried to get close to the new colonel to get his hands on the machine. To Ronon, the concept was like something out of the myths and legends he had heard as a child. To see it as something real was strange, but he wasn't doubtful of the possibility. The man was here after all.

Even though Sheppard and Weir vouched for Jackson, who in turned vouched for Kelly, Ronon still felt they could have some ulterior motive or they could just have something against him. He would take his time assessing them, waiting for some outward sign of acceptance. Only then would he befriend them.

***************

Daniel couldn't believe it! He had finally made it to Atlantis! Granted, he wouldn't be able to use the excuse anymore, but that was a minor concession. He tried to take in everything as they walked the corridors to the living quarters.

"Daniel, you'll have time to examine everything at your leisure later," said Elizabeth with a slight laugh.

"I know. I just can't help it. To have searched for it for so long only to find it and not be able to go..."

"You'll just have to make a video for Jack," said Alan as he tried to shake off McKay.

"Oh, like he taped his trip?"

"A camcorder would have stood out in the early 1900s. Besides, were you the least bit interested in seeing the Cubs win the Series?"

"Not really, no." Daniel reached into his bag and pulled out his camcorder. He immediately turned it on Elizabeth. "Smile."

"Why don't you save it for the tour?" she said.

Daniel turned it off and replaced it. "Good idea. Don't want to waste the batteries."

"We've a number of different batteries," put in McKay. "I'm sure we could..." His voice trailed off after receiving a glare from Elizabeth.

"Thanks, McKay. I'll check into that for backup."

The room they gave him was quite spacious, similar to a hotel suite. "I could get spoiled by this."

"As long as you don't tell Gen. Landry of our accommodations," joked Sheppard. "Then everyone'll wanna come here."

"And before you know it, there goes the neighborhood," said Alan as he rejoined them.

Daniel set his pack down on the bed and removed his vest. There was no need for it here.

"Are you ready?" asked Elizabeth.

"I don't think you really need to ask that," said McKay as Daniel hurried through the door.

Partway down the hall he realized he forgot something. He held up his hand, turned and headed back to his room to grab his camcorder.

***************

Alan was impressed with the condition of the city. After being abandoned for so many years, the members of the expedition had done a marvelous job of getting it up and working. Going by its size, there was no way it was completely occupied.

In his time it was a bustling metropolis, a sought-after resort. There had been a time after the knowledge of the Stargate had been lost that coming out to the Pegasus Galaxy was a long journey, not one to be taken for a weekend getaway. However, once the engines were revamped, travel time was reduced by something like 75%, it was opened to tourists.

"Is the tour boring you?" questioned Sheppard.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Actually, I was thinking of what it will look like."

"Better or worse?"

Alan mimed buttoning his lip.

They continued on and Daniel was full of questions regarding what they had discovered pertaining to each room or general area. Then they arrived at the jumper bay and it was Alan's turn to be full of questions. Even though they weren't much to look at, he knew there was advanced technology inside. He just itched to go in one.

"Amazing," said Daniel. "We found one of these on a mission and it was fitted with a temporal drive."

"What? You're saying the Ancients had the ability to time travel?" That was the first Alan had heard of it.

"What happened to the jumper?" asked Elizabeth.

"You know, I'm not sure. It's probably in Area 51 or something."

"You don't know what happened to it?" McKay was indignant. "I would think that S-Col. Carter would be tearing it apart to find out how it works."

"I don't think it ever happened," Alan interrupted. "I don't remember ever hearing about time travel experiments at this time."

"You've said the future can change. What if they find it and use it now?"

"It could be but I doubt it." The day was finally catching up to him. "I think I had better get some rest. My brother'll kill me if I don't take care of myself."

"He's tried before," joked Daniel.

"This time he'll have backup in the form of Shannon and Eric."

"Your brother tried to kill you?" questioned Ronon.

"We didn't know we were brothers at the time." He headed for his quarters. "If you really want the story, Daniel can tell you. I'm dead on my feet."

"Rest well, Colonel," said Teyla.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing, rushing off like that after getting out of hospital. He really was beat. Maybe just a little nap and I'll be fine. At least Daniel is having a great time. I doubt he'll sleep for days.

Upon reaching his quarters, Alan collapsed on the bed and was asleep in seconds.

*****************

Elizabeth was getting coffee in the mess when she spotted Col. Kelly having breakfast. "Sleep well, Colonel?" she asked with a smile.

He looked up. "As I slept for almost 14 hours, I think that's a silly question." He motioned for her to join him.

She sat across from him. "Perhaps you weren't ready for all that walking we did yesterday."

"It could just be that I needed sleep. I haven't had some downtime in awhile."

"Daniel said we should leave you alone. He checked on you himself a couple of times."

"I take it he didn't sleep at all last night, making use of the city's archives, pulling an all-nighter."

Elizabeth smiled. Everyone knew that once Dr. Jackson found something to intrigue him, he wouldn't sleep. As the story went, that was how he deciphered the symbols on the Stargate. "So you slept for him as well."

"So it would seem." He finished his coffee.

"I don't mean to tell you what do to, but I think you should pay Dr. Beckett a visit."

"I was already thinking that. I won't be able to tell him what medications I'm on and if he were to examine my blood, he might find certain things he shouldn't."

"I'll come with you to make sure his professional curiosity doesn't get the better of him."

"Thank you." He stood and carried his tray over to where the bins for dirty plates and utensils were placed. He paused and looked out the window onto Atlantis and the ocean. The look on his face was something like longing.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?"

"It looks so tranquil. All I need is a lounge chair and a pitcher of beer and I'd be happy."

"You don't get much time to unwind? I would have thought that you could go to some tropical paradise to relax."

"The last time I was on a tropical beach, I was being chased by pirates. My breaks start out promising but they never seem to end that way."

"I'll take that as a warning."

They walked to the infirmary and were practically pounced upon by Carson. "You're looking much better, Colonel."

"I got in a full night's sleep."

"And part of the day from what I understand."

"Carson, Col. Kelly has stressed to me how important it is that you do not use any blood samples for research. I know it's hard to contain your curiosity, but anything beyond checking on his infection could reveal something we're not meant to learn."

Carson was crestfallen but he hid it behind his professionalism. "Very well, Dr. Weir. There is one thing I would like to test for, however."

"The gene? I would think so if you ignore any other 'discrepancies' you may find."

"You want to test to see if I carry the Ancient gene?"

"It would be interesting to know if it still exists in the future," commented Carson in a somewhat pleading tone.

"OK if you take the path of least temptation."

Once they were settled, Elizabeth moved on to check Rodney's progress. John found her and walked alongside. "Did you want something?"

"I want to follow up a lead on Ford."

"Every lead we've had has fallen apart. How do we know he's even been there?"

"We won't find out until we go, will we?" He looked at her as if daring her to say no.

She knew she couldn't refuse. She shared a sense of his guilt in thinking they had somehow failed Ford by not expressing their concern and compassion for his condition. If they could find him and bring him back to Atlantis, she knew there was a way to help him. "Very well."

"Great! Thanks! You tell Rodney and I'll get Teyla and Ronon!" He rushed off down the corridor.

Elizabeth shook her head as she entered Rodney's lab.

************

Rodney looked up as Elizabeth walked in shaking her head. "Elizabeth," he stated in greeting.

"Rodney. How are you progressing?"

"Quite well, actually. Another few hours should let me know if I'm on the right track."

"You'll need to put that off for a bit. Col. Sheppard has requested to follow up a lead on Ford."

"He would interrupt my work for a possible wild goose chase." He set down his handheld. "When do we head out?"

"Within 30 minutes I should think. He ran off to tell Teyla and Ronon before we could discuss departure."

"I'll just need to set things up so they'll function while I'm gone."

"Come to the Gateroom when you're ready." She left.

Rodney sighed. Being part of Sheppard's team cut in drastically on his lab work. It was amazing he got anything done at all. He didn't mind the scientific challenges provided on off-world missions. It was the danger aspect that dampened his enthusiasm. He didn't cope well with fear. He had a tendency to hyperventilate which led to passing out.

I bet Kelly only passes out due to medical reasons like exhaustion or trauma. I have to get a look at that machine of his though. I need to see how it works. But if I do, it could affect everything I do from then on, not something that is good for the continuum.

He looked at his supposed assistants to see who he could trust to keep an eye on his project while he was gone.

***********

Daniel was having one of the best times of his life--or lives. The information stored in the archives was massive. Maybe he could somehow get it copied so he could take it back to the SGC, which, of course, would mean more sleepless nights.

There were a number of archivists each set to translating their own section so there would be no danger of overlapping. The woman who was there at the moment had proven to be quite proficient and a great help.

He felt more than saw someone new enter the room and sit across from him. He marked his place with his index finger before looking up to see Alan grinning at him. "You're looking much better."

"I'm great, thanks. Carson wanted to run a gamut of tests, but Elizabeth and I talked him into only testing what was necessary."

"Did he consider testing for the Ancient gene necessary?"

"Yes, he did. Made him take a swab of saliva. No extra blood for him to examine." He leaned forward to peer at the items spread across the table. "Have you found anything of great import?"

"Nothing truly earth-shattering, no, but fascinating just the same. I don't want to bore you--"

"Thank you."

"So I'll tell you that what I've translated so far mostly revolves around daily life on Atlantis and their interaction with other planets."

"So nothing on ascension or the Wraith."

"Not yet, but the archivists and translators here are making great progress so it shouldn't be long until we do find something."

"Since you seem to have this in hand, I'm going to see if I can find Sheppard and get a ride in a jumper."

"Typical pilot," commented Daniel to his back before resuming his translations, immersing himself to the exclusion of all else.

****************

Teyla sparred with one of the soldiers who wished to learn to fight with Athosian fighting sticks. They were proficient in the technique but she could not find anyone outside her own people who knew the art, the finesse of their use.

After vanquishing her challenger, Teyla turned to towel herself off and saw Col. Kelly standing, watching. "May I help you?"

"I'm sorry. I was looking for Col. Sheppard." He picked up a set of sticks and touched them with great reverence. "These are remarkably versatile weapons. He twirled one in his hand. "Good balance. May I?"

"Are you sure you're ready for such activity?"

"I think I can manage it. We'll start easy and see how I do."

"Very well." She picked up her set and approached him. "First we bow to acknowledge the honor of the confrontation." She bowed her head as she spoke, lifting her eyes to see that Kelly did the same. She then took up a ready stance.

Teyla started off slow to see how well he could handle the fighting sticks. She then picked up speed and came at him from both sides, making sure to avoid his right side where he was injured. Still he blocked all her advances. "You are doing quite well, Colonel. Are you sure you have never fought with these before?"

"Quite sure."

"How are you feeling?"

"Ready to take it up a notch."

Teyla added spins and feints as well as more speed. He met and blocked every blow like a master. He then unexpectedly took the offensive, raining down blows on all sides. Before long, he had disarmed her and had both sticks crossed at her throat.

"Well, that's something I never thought I'd see." Sheppard was leaning in the doorway. "Granted, Ronon did it by brute force, but this was amazing."

"I have a knack with weapons," Kelly said as he lowered the sticks and bowed. "I merely watched Teyla's moves and adopted them to fit my style."

"No wonder you joined the military." Sheppard turned to her. "Teyla, we're off to track down another lead on Ford."

"I will be ready in ten minutes." She paused in the doorway. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Thank you for not treating me like a invalid."

With a nod, she continued on to her quarters to change and prepare for the mission.

******************

John looked at Kelly. "Ready to go?" When the man only stared at him, he continued. "I promised you a ride in a jumper, didn't I?"

"I was thinking just a little jaunt around the planet, not off-world."

"As you're basically along for the ride, I would like you to stay in the jumper until we check things out. Elizabeth would have my hide should anything happen to you, let alone what SG-1 would do."

"I think I can manage to stay out of the way."

They arrived at the jumper bay and boarded Jumper 1. "I've got to go talk with Elizabeth but it shouldn't take long. I don't want to sound like I'm talking down to you, but--"

"I won't touch anything no matter how much my curiosity nags me." To prove his point, he sat on his hands.

"Great." John left for the Gateroom knowing he could trust Kelly to keep his word.

They met at the control room and Elizabeth started. "Before I forget, I want to let you know that Dr. Beckett's test show that Col. Kelly does not possess the Ancient gene."

"And you're telling us why?"

"Weren't you just the least bit curious, Rodney? To see if there are those in the future who possess it?"

"All it would have shown is that one man possesses it. It hardly proves that his whole civilization does."

"I'll bet Beckett was disappointed," said John. "He was so eager."

"I think that was more about the other tests he wanted to do." She then got down to the topic at hand. "I want you to treat this as a basic search-and-rescue mission. Anything beyond that, contact Atlantis is you are able. If not, use your discretion." She looked pointedly in his direction. "The Wraith still believe Atlantis is destroyed and we cannot afford to lose that advantage. If you can't bring Ford home, bring us a step closer."

"I know the drill," he said. "We'll do our best."

When the team arrived at the jumper bay, Kelly was waiting outside. "What's the matter? Why aren't you inside?"

"I was hearing this weird buzzing that was driving me mad."

"What's he doing here?" demanded Ronon.

"I said I'd take him for a ride in the jumper." He entered the ship and stood still. "I don't hear anything."

"Sheppard, this is a mission, not a joyride. We shouldn't be taking him with us."

"The two of us already talked it over. He's going to stay in the jumper until we check the place out. Once we know it's OK, he can join us."

"And what has Dr. Weir said to this?" questioned Teyla as she joined him in the cockpit.

"Uh, nothing." He powered up the ship as the others took their seats and buckled in.

"Because you didn't tell her," said Ronon.

"If it's going to cause such a problem, you can always take me for a ride later."

"It's a basic recon mission that might turn into search-and-rescue. Besides, it's not like you're a civilian."

Rodney looked at Kelly. "Still hearing that buzzing?"

"A bit. It's not as bad as it was."

"It could be the electronics affecting you somehow."

"Has anyone else had the same reaction?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Maybe enough exposure to it will build up an immunity," John said as the ship lowered to the Gateroom.

"I hope so." He looked at the open Gate in front of them. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"Do not the Gates exist in your time?" asked Teyla.

"Oh, they exist. The knowledge of how to use them was lost. I wouldn't be surprised if Col. Carter is trying to remedy the situation."

"If anyone can, it's her," declared Rodney.

"Did you just pay someone a compliment?" asked John as they materialized on the other side.

"Well, since I'm not there..."

John landed the jumper in a field outside the nearest city and engaged the cloak. "OK, let's go explore."

****************

Ryan Kelly stood at attention in Gen. McGuire's office knowing it should be his brother standing there getting a tongue-lashing, not him. But no, once Alan learned that the general public had discovered the existence of the TOC due to bringing SG-1 to the present, he scarpered, declaring he was taking sick leave.

"Now I know you knew nothing of your brother's decision but I have to make it look like I'm upbraiding someone." The general took a seat behind his desk. "I think we all got carried away by seeing SG-1 that we were a bit lax in security." He motioned for Ryan to sit. "Do you have any idea where he went?"

"Only coordinates. We're to meet him there."

"Would I be right in assuming it's in the past?"

"He hinted to Dr. Jackson that it would be something he would enjoy, so I'd say that's a good guess."

"He can make friends with just about anybody."

"Even his enemies have a grudging respect for him."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Oh, definitely. I had the perfect setup until he got involved."

"I'll just have to have something waiting for him upon his return. Perhaps a week-long press junket. You know how he hates that."

Ryan grinned. "Sounds perfect, sir. If he asks me how it all went, I'll try to make him think it's all been settled." He stood. "I had better go check on the others, sir. I know they want to join Alan and Dr. Jackson."

"Very good. Remember, not a word."

Ryan zipped his lip before saluting and leaving. He never thought he'd be plotting pranks with a general. With a smile on his lips, he contacted Shannon. {Where are you?}

{With Teal'c and Cameron. Hernandez has them flying again.}

(And Sam?}

{Eric's taken her to see the Gate enthusiasts to help them get it working again.}

{OK, you get Teal'c and Mitchell to my rooms on the Base and I'll get Sam and Eric. It's time to go meet Alan and Daniel.}

Because of what happened, he had been called back to the Base while Eric and Shannon played guide and guard for SG-1. Shannon was still on the Dreadnought and Eric was at the World Institute of Technology.

He homed in on Eric's machine and appeared beside him. "How're things going?"

Eric looked up from his handheld. "Seems to me that the techies have a good grasp of what Sam's been saying. It's way beyond me, though. What did McGuire have to say?"

"He yelled a bit and said we should have known better." Ryan decided not to share his secret.

Sam saw that he had arrived and came over. "Ryan, it's good to see you."

"And whole, as you can see. Do these guys have a good enough grasp of things that you can leave them to it?"

"I believe so. Is it time for us to go?"

"Plan is to meet the others at my quarters on the Base before going to the coordinates Alan gave us."

Sam said goodbye to the technicians then walked back. "Gentlemen, I'm ready."

Ryan put out his left arm while Eric put out his right. "I'll do the driving," Ryan said and set the coordinates.

*****************

Cameron Mitchell was enjoying himself way too much. These ships handled like a dream. Everything back home would feel clunky in comparison. Plus he was flying in space!

Shannon's voice came over the radio. "Sorry, Cam, it's time to come back down. We've got to meet the others."

"Sure thing." That could only mean it was time to join Jackson and Kelly. He steered into the bay and landed with only a couple of bumps.

"Not bad," said Hernandez. "After a few more lessons, you'd be ready for the Rangers."

"Thanks." Cam removed his helmet and shook hands with his teacher. Shannon and Teal'c were waiting for him. "Now that's a ride!"

"Indeed. If we had such a ship in our time, we would easily defeat the Goa'uld."

"That's something you can only speculate on. Let's get your gear and then we'll be off."

They walked to the quarters that had been set aside for them. Shannon kept stressing that they could only take what they came with--no extras allowed. While he and Teal'c were putting on their vests, she placed a call to Adm. Kotsovitch to let him know they were leaving.

"It was an honor having you aboard the Dreadnought, gentlemen. Give my regards to Col. Carter and Dr. Jackson."

"Will do, Admiral." Cam couldn't help but salute him. Probably just made his decade. That was the least he deserved for how he handled the insanity that broke out when the news spread of their presence.

He took hold of Shannon's right arm while Teal'c took her left and they were back on the Base. Sam, Ryan, and Eric were already there.

"Everybody have everything?" Ryan programmed his machine. "Gather close." And they were whipped off again-

To arrive in a large room to find automatic rifles aimed at them. "Whoa!"

******************

Shannon's first thought on seeing the guns aimed at them was Great, what has Alan dropped us into? She followed the lead of the others and mover her hands away from her body to show there was no harm intended but it was not surrender.

"OK, guys, I don't think that's necessary," said Cam.

A major approached them. "Col. Mitchell. Col. Carter. Teal'c." He motioned the men to lower their weapons. "You, uh, surprised us."

"Your reflexes are quick."

"Thanks, Teal'c. We've had some experience."

"Maj. Lorne, I'll take over from here." A woman with dark hair somewhere in her __s came down a wide set of stairs. Shannon felt a bit left out because the others seemed to know her. "Welcome to Atlantis. I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir and I am in charge of the expedition. SG-1 I know, so you must be Col. Kelly's team."

Ryan made the introductions. "Maj. Shannon Flynn, Maj. Eric Rader, and I'm Capt. Ryan Kelly."

"You're related to the colonel?"

"He's my brother."

"Then I should tell you he had a checkup today and he's healing nicely."

"That was part of the reason for his coming here," Shannon said. "He also knew we'd check on him when we got here."

"What was the other reason?" asked Maj. Lorne.

"That would be bringing Jackson here," put in Cam. "At least this means I won't have to keep hearing how he missed Daedalus that first trip."

"Where is Daniel Jackson now?" questioned Teal'c.

"He's practically been living in the Archives since he arrived," Dr. Weir told them.

"That sounds like Daniel," Sam smiled.

"I'll take you to him. Perhaps we'll find Col. Kelly on the way."

Shannon opened her mind to see if she could sense Alan. Nothing. "He's not here."

"Are you sure?"

"Shannon, Alan, and Ryan are telepathic," Eric informed her. "If she say's he's not here, he isn't."

"He must have slipped aboard the jumper with Col. Sheppard's team."

"Unless it was by invitation. I wouldn't put it past John."

"Being a pilot, I wouldn't put it past Alan to have asked for a chance to fly in the jumper," commented Eric.

"It's a recon mission so there shouldn't be any trouble," said Dr Weir.

" 'Shouldn't be'?" Shannon was concerned by that phrase.

"Col. Sheppard's team doesn't have the best luck when it comes to run-of-the-mill missions," put in Maj. Lorne.

"Sounds familiar," said Cam.

"We'll know when they make their scheduled call."

Dr. Weir took them into the hallway and pressed a panel on the wall. A door slid open revealing a room about the size of a lift. It was too small for all of them so Dr. Weir took Ryan, Sam, and Cam first. The door slid closed on them. When Maj. Lorne opened it, they were gone. Teleporter. It has to be. She, Eric, and Teal'c joined the major inside where a lit panel seemed to show a lit model of the city. He pressed a finger to a section and, after a second or two of lightheadedness, the door slid open and the others were waiting.

"The Archives are just down here." Dr. Weir led them down the hall.

Shannon still couldn't get over the fact that this was the legendary Atlantis. She had gotten the story from the others after Alan and Daniel had gone. It would explain why nobody could find the ruins.

When another door slid open, Shannon knew they had arrived for it had that library feel. All that was missing were the actual books and the smell of leather. Sitting at one of the many tables was Daniel, bent over parchment.

"Jackson!" called Cam.

"Oh, hi, guys. You made it."

"It appears you have found all that you wished, Daniel Jackson."

"It's all fascinating from an archeological perspective, but I still haven't found anything regarding ascension or the Ori."

"Anything of the Wraith?" asked Dr. Weir.

"A few mentions of them existing but nothing on the war." He looked around. "Have you seen Alan yet?"

"He's gone on a mission with Col. Sheppard," Eric answered.

"He did mention something about a ride in a jumper."

Shannon went over to Daniel and looked at the items before him. "Does this shed any light on their time on Earth?"

"I forgot you were an historian."

"It's easily done. I don't exactly look the part."

At that moment, Shannon heard Dr. Weir say, "I'll be right there." She looked at the rest of them. "We've an incoming message--from Col. Kelly."

**************

Alan poked around the back of the ship while he waited for the all-clear from Sheppard. After about 30 minutes, he had checked all the storage cabinets in the limited area. He sat on one of the bench seats and the buzzing started again. He stood and staggered into the cockpit hoping it would lessen, but it grew stronger. In a fit of anger he slammed his hand down on the control panel.

The buzzing stopped to be replaced by something else, a presence in his mind. It was different from when he spoke with Ryan and Shannon, but there was something there. It wasn't invasive, it wasn't probing, it was just there.

Somehow knowing it wasn't dangerous, he turned his attention to the others. They should have contacted him by now saying it was okay. He didn't want to try calling them in case they were in a tight spot. That only left calling Atlantis, but he didn't know the Gate address. At that very moment, the DHD began dialing itself. It was the ship that had melded with his mind! It had read his thoughts and dialed the Gate!

"Atlantis, this is Kelly. I haven't had any contact from Sheppard or his team since they left a little over twenty minutes ago. I plan to follow their intended path to see if I can find some sign of them."

"Col. Kelly, this is Dr. Weir. Your team and SG-1 have arrived. Would you like them sent as backup?"

Now they arrive! "Give me about another hour. If you don't have any contact by then, it would be a good idea. My team should be able to home in on me once they get here."

"Good luck, Colonel."

Alan ended the connection to Atlantis then went to the back of the ship where he equipped himself with a couple of sidearms, tucking one into the waistband of his pants as a backup. He also took some spare clips and put them in his jacket pocket. The jumper lowered its ramp and he slowly walked out. When he was on the ground, he turned as the ramp closed, hiding all signs of its presence.

"That is so cool."

He then set off in the direction he saw the team take. The path joined a dirt road which he followed, not meeting another soul. There wasn't much noise coming from the surrounding fields either. For something that looked like a farming society, one would expect cows and sheep, or something.

The dirt became large, flat stones reminiscent of Roman roads. It was here that he saw his first locals. A trio of men dressed as laborers were driving a horse-cart in his direction. He nodded at them and smiled as they went past. He turned to continue and felt a blast hit him in the back and he fell to the ground unconscious.

*********************

Sam looked at Dr. Weir. "Is there anything we should do to prepare?"

"I'll need to get you a pilot. Only those with the Ancient gene can operate the jumpers."

"Yes, I remember. Col. Sheppard must have given Alan the address for this type of situation."

"Good thing, too," put in Daniel.

"No, Alan would have come here himself if there was no other way," said Shannon.

"You will be able to home in on him like he said, right?"

"We can home in on his machine or his thoughts," Ryan answered.

"Then I think we ought to get you some weapons." Dr. Weir began to walk away.

The man at the controls immediately turned to his computer. "I'll pull up a list of available pilots."

"Very good. I'll take our visitors to the armory."

"So, assuming things went south, who do you think would have taken them?" questioned Cam.

"Aside from the Wraith, I believe there is only one enemy we have encountered that would go out of their way like this to capture one of our teams," Dr. Weir informed them. "The Genii. I only wonder if Sheppard and his team were the intended targets.

"They are the people who attempted to take over Atlantis during the hurricane, are they not?" asked Teal'c.

"Yes. Because John was mostly responsible for their failure--with help from Rodney, Teyla, and myself--they would do anything to get him."

"What exactly was the mission?" Sam wanted to know.

"During the siege by the Wraith, one of Sheppard's men, Lt Ford, nearly died at the hands of one of them and in the process became addicted to an enzyme secreted by a gland. It gives him super-human strength and speed. He fled the city believing we wanted to hurt him. Ever since then we've been searching for him."

"So the Genii got word of this and set up a trap, giving a false report of a sighting knowing Sheppard couldn't pass up the chance," concluded Eric.

Sam wondered if ticking off potential allies was a particular knack of male Air Force colonels.

The Eagle Chronicles 29: Shadow of the Eagle

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 02:48:50 GMT

Title: The Shadow of the Eagle
Series: The Eagle Chronicles.
Word Count 5382
Summary Steven's adopted son Jamie can't escape his father's shadow
Notes: The majority of this series was written over 20 years ago and I like to think that my style has improved since then. I've been told that I should probably edit them before I post like this but I can't edit myself. To me it looks fine. If you see a section that needs work, please tell me!

29. In the Shadow of the Eagle

"Stuart, let me see what you've written."

"Yes, sir. The boy handed the piece of paper to the master. He watched nervously as the professor's eyes perused the article.

"You can do better than this, boy. Certainly, you've experienced something that can give you more insight to both sides. I want you to start this from scratch." He ripped it to shreds. "Start with a new topic, if you wish, but do your research and include details."

"But, sir, the deadline is tomorrow."

"You had better start, then."

"Sir." James Stuart walked out into the quad and found a quiet spot. He was angry with the teacher. It was a good article. It considered all the facts. As he thought more about it, he realized that maybe he could have made it more interesting, but what could he come up with in one night? Surely nothing that would excite the old man. Maybe his father knew of things going on in London? Then he remembered his father was in the States.

"Hey, Jamie, you okay?" asked a boy Jamie's age.

"Harker just tore apart my article. He says I can do better. He then told me I should get a new topic and still make the deadline."

"You really do have a problem. Nothing goes on around here."

"You're a great help, Kevin."

"I aim to please," he laughed. "C'mon, maybe we can find something going on in town."

"Okay. Let's walk it. I'm in the mood for fresh air."

"Sure."

The two boys walked across the fields instead of taking the road. Kevin Cambridge watched the young lord's face as it changed from depression and anger to wide-eyed amazement of nature. He wondered what it would be like to live the life Jamie did. He hardly saw his father and spent holidays being followed by the press. "Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"What's it like, living like you do?"

"It's okay, I guess."

"You don't sound so thrilled about it."

"It's kind of hard to say. I mean, there are good things and bad things. Can we drop this conversation?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"I know you didn't. I'm just a little upset, that's all."

"If you ever want to talk, I'll--"

"Sshh, I think someone is spying over there."

"Where?"

"Behind those bushes over there."

"Jamie, I think you're just looking for something to write about. He's probably just bird-watching or something. What could he be spying on out here?"

"You're right. C'mon, maybe we can make the matinee."

***********************************************

The two boys came out of the theatre laughing. "I definitely needed that. I'm feeling much better now," said Jamie.

"Let's get a paper. Maybe you can find something for your article."

"I'd almost forgotten about that." They walked to a vendor and bought both the local paper and the Times. Kevin took the local while Jamie searched through the London paper. "There's nothing here."

"I think I've found something. Listen to this. Some old coins were stolen from the exchange yesterday. They've been estimated at £10,000."

"Is the exchange here in town?"

"Yes, right down the street. I think it closes in an hour."

"Good. That gives us time to ask questions."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I've seen my dad do it lots of times. Let's go."

The boys ran down the street and walked into the exchange. "What can I do for you, boys?" asked a young clerk."

"We'd like to talk to the manager."

"He's quite busy at the moment. May I be of any help?"

"It's to do with the robbery."

"What can you do about it?"

"We want to find them and we have to ask the manager questions."

"Why don't you go off and play 'Detective' somewhere else?"

Kevin spoke up. "This is Lord James Stuart. He has experience in such matters."

"You boys stay here. I'll get the manager." The clerk went into a backroom.

"Why did you have to say that?"

"You wanted to talk to the manager, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to say who I was."

"Were you planning on investigating incognito? He'll take you seriously now."

The manager came out. He was an older man with hair greying at the temples. "I'm Mr. Sinclair, the manager. How may I help you?"

"I am a writer for our school paper and I read that you experienced a robbery. I'd like to interview you, if I may."

"Certainly. Come in back. We can talk more freely there." The boys followed nervously. "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything to eat? Drink?"

"No, thank you, sir. We'd better get straight to the questions. Could you give us, in as much detail as you can, the lead-up to the robbery?"

"The coins themselves are very rare, from the Cromwellian outings in Ireland. Their estimated worth is close to £100,000."

"I must have read it wrong," Kevin whispered.

"As for the robbery, the coins had just arrived yesterday morning on their way to London. They were locked in the safe when we closed. When I came in this morning, the safe was open, but only those coins were missing."

"That means that whoever broke in knew exactly where the coins were. How many people know the combination?"

"Just myself and the head clerk."

"How long has he been here?"

"Close to five years. You can't think he did it?"

" 'I suspect everyone and no one.' Is he here now?"

"Yes. Would you like to talk to him in here?"

"If we may."

"I'll get him." Sinclair left.

"Laying it on thick, aren't you?" asked Kevin.

"I thought I'd better seem professional since you opened your big mouth. Just back me up on this."

"Sure thing, Sherlock." Jamie glared at him as Kevin smiled.

Sinclair entered followed by a clerk that was a few years younger than himself. He seemed nervous at the prospect of being questioned, but looked relieved when he saw the boys. "What's going on?"

"This young boy," Sinclair said, pointing at Jamie, "wants to do an article for his school paper on the robbery. He knows what he's asking."

"We won't be long, sir. Am I correct in understanding that, other than Mr. Sinclair, you are the only one who knows the combination to the safe?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing. I'm just gathering information. You don't want to be misquoted or libeled, do you?"

"Course not. I went home before Mr. Sinclair and came back this morning after him."

"That could have given you time to prepare for the crime," said Kevin.

"I had to go to Edinburgh to visit my sister."

"Do you have proof?"

"She'll give me an alibi."

"Don't be so defensive, Mr. . . ."

"Eliot. Charles Eliot."

"Thank you, Mr. Eliot. We'll be in touch. We have to take owe leave now. We've been gone since noon. Thank you very much for the interview, Mr. Sinclair." Jamie and Kevin stepped into the twilight. "We'd better move quickly or we'll be caught on the fields in the dark."

"Fields? You want to cut across the fields at night? You're crazy, Jamie."

"I'd rather take a short walk in the twilight then a long one in the dark."

"Okay, but if anything happens, you take the full blame."

"Sure."

The boys quickly walked across the fields as the night grew dark. They had to cut through a small copse of trees, Jamie in front. Just at the edge, a shadow appeared from nowhere, blocking their path. It strode towards them and became a man. They tried to run but he grabbed them each by the collar. "Where are ye off tae?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"Ah, we're going back to school," said Jamie.

"Oh, little rich boys, eh?" He noticed Jamie's pad on the ground. "What's this?" he asked as he put them down.

Kevin moved to run but stopped when he saw Jamie standing still. "It's my notebook. I write for the paper."

The man picked it up and flipped through it. "Yer writin' 'bout the robb'ry. Ye'dd be amazed at who c'n do robb'ries."

Jamie looked inquisitively at the man, but he said nothing more. "We'd better get going now." He walked to Kevin.

"Don't tell on me, lads!" called the man. The boys nodded and ran back to school.

********************************************

When they reached the school, they were too late for dinner so they went to Jamie's room. Jamie immediately sat at his desk and began writing. "If Harker doesn't like this, I'll be ready to kill."

"After meeting that nut on the field, all you can think about is your article? Weren't you scared?"

"Yeah, but he didn't do anything, right? The last thing he said got me thinking. After I finish this, we're going to do some investigating."

"Mean it? I don't know if I should trust you."

"What have I ever done to make you feel that way?"

"There was that time in history when you and Dobson. . ."

"Sorry I asked. When I'm done, do you want to read it?"

"If you want me to."

"Would I have asked if I didn't?"

Kevin got up and walked to the bookshelf. :What did we have to read for history?"

"Cromwell and the Commonwealth." He paused. "It's ironic that the missing coins are from that period."

"Right." Kevin stretched out on the bed. There was a knock on the door. "Come in."

The door opened and two boys the same age as Jamie and Kevin walked in. "Cunningham and I thought you'd be hungry so we talked the cooks into letting us bring something up." They pushed a trolley forward. On it was a covered tray.

"What now, Dobson?"

"Dinner, you lordship." He removed the lid to reveal baked ham, potatoes, and two glasses of milk.

Kevin sat up and licked his lips. "Smells great. Thanks." He moved forward to take a plate."

"Wait. One thing you have to tell us first."

"What's that?"

"Where were you and why did you miss dinner?"

"Old Harker didn't like one of Jamie's articles so we went into town to get his mind off it."

"That took five hours?"

Jamie took over. "We cut across the fields so that's two hours, and a movie was another two."

"What about the fifth?"

"We found a topic for my article and did some research."

"Okay, you can eat now."

"You're such gentlemen."

Cunningham sat down beside Kevin and Dobson pulled up a chair. Cunningham asked, "What's the article about?"

"I don't know if I want to say. Maybe I'll let you read it when I'm done."

"What was happening in town?"

"There was a robbery of these rare coins worth over £100,000," answered Kevin.

"£100,000? Lord, what a fortune!"

"When we were coming across the fields, this man nearly scared us to death. He said something that's got Jamie thinking he's Sherlock Holmes."

"Tryin' to be like your dad?" asked Dobson.

"No, just trying to figure out this case."

"Is that what you're writing about?" asked Cunningham.

"Yeah. If Harker says there aren't enough details, I'm gonna throttle him."

"Then we'd be investigating you," Kevin said, laughing.

Cunningham seriously asked, "Can I help?"

"Sure. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing, but I'd appreciate your help."

"You can't be serious, Cunningham," said Dobson. "What can you possibly do?"

"I don't know, but at least I'm offering to help."

Dobson got angry. "How dare you. . ."

"Calm down, Dobson. If you don't want to help, you don't have to. I just want to satisfy my curiosity."

"I'll join you, but I don't want to be doing anything stupid."

"You can't expect us to change your personality."

"You're gonna get it, Cambridge."

"I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do." Jamie looked at Dobson. "In?"

"In." They shook hands.

Jamie and Kevin told the others everything they had learned that afternoon. "That's what we have to work with." Jamie sat on the bed. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't think of anything at the moment."

"Why don't we all sleep on it and talk in the morning," suggested Cunningham.

"That's a good idea. Tomorrow at breakfast, then. Thanks for the dinner."

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing." The three boys left and Jamie returned to his article.

**********************************************

The next morning Cambridge, Dobson, and Cunningham waited for Jamie at breakfast, but he never showed. "Maybe he's still sleeping," said Cunningham.

"If he is, we'd better wake him. He's got Harker this morning," said Dobson.

"I'll go get him. We don't want Harker mad at him so he'll refuse to read the article."

"Okay. See you later." Cunningham and Dobson left for class.

Kevin knocked on Jamie's door but there was no answer. "Jamie, it's Kevin. You've got to get up for Harker this morning." No answer. He opened the door and saw the bed stripped. "Oh, no!" He went to the desk and found Jamie's article in pieces. He ran out of the room and to the housemaster. "Stuart's missing, sir."

"What was that, Cambridge?"

"Lord Stuart is missing, sir. He was supposed to meet me at breakfast but he never showed. I went to his room and found it a mess, something he'd never do."

"Are you sure you aren't jumping to conclusions?"

"Yes, sir. That's why I came to you. Have you seen him or know where he is?"

"No, I haven't. The two of you missed dinner last night, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Jamie had to find a topic to write on for the paper before today's deadline. He was upset so I suggested that we go into town to take his mind off it. We read that there had been a robbery of rare coins so we went to check it out. That's what he was writing on."

"Let me check his room. He may have gone off by himself to finish." The housemaster stood and went to Jamie's room. As he walked up the stairs, he heard Kevin's footsteps behind him. "Don't you have class, Cambridge?"

"If you please, sir, I'd rather find out what happened to Jamie."

"I admire your friendship, but you must go to class."

"Yes, sir."

Kevin made it to class just before Harker entered. He shrugged his shoulders at Dobson and Cunningham. Harker noticed Jamie's absence. "Cambridge, where's Stuart?"

"I don't know, sir. I haven't seen him since last night."

Harker nodded and commenced teaching.

Afterwards, Dobson and Cunningham came over to Cambridge. "What happened?"

"I went to his room and it was a total mess. The bed was stripped and the sheets were tied together outside the window. His article was ripped to shreds."

"What did you do?"

"I went to Douglass and told him. He went to the room but sent me away."

"We should check with him to see if he found anything," said Cunningham.

"And if he doesn't want to see us?" remarked Dobson.

"Then we'll try to find Jamie ourselves."

The three boys went to visit the housemaster. "Excuse me, sir," said Kevin.

"Yes, Cambridge?"

"Did you find out anything about Jamie?"

"He must have done it himself."

"But why would he climb out the window?" asked Cunningham.

"Instead of going downstairs and breaking curfew? I don't think he'd risk it," said Master Douglass.

"Don't you find it strange that Jamie, of all people, would go off in the middle of the night through the window?" asked Dobson.

"Cambridge told me that Stuart had much on his mind and maybe he went off to relieve it."

"Maybe," Kevin emphasized.

"I've no more time for such questions," said Douglass. "That's all I have to say. The police have been notified and will keep an eye out for him." The boys accepted his dismissal and walked out.

"I can't believe he didn't do anything," said Cunningham.

"How can he do anything when he doesn't think anything's wrong?" said Kevin.

"I told you it was a waste of time," remarked Dobson.

"Now what do we do?" Cunningham asked. "We've got to find out what happened to Jamie.

Kevin walked up to Jamie's room. "And I know what."

"What are you doing?"

"Investigating the scene of the crime."

"Oh, you're just as bad as Jamie," said Dobson.

"You never saw the man in the woods. I bet he had something to do with it."

"Oh, brother."

"Don't just stand there, help."

*************************************************************

Jamie looked at the article. "This isn't right. It sounds to. . .blah. I need to liven it up a bit. But how?" He sat at his desk and thought. A gleam came into his eye. He climbed into bed and set his alarm for earlier than usual.

When the alarm went off, all he did was put on his shoes (he had slept in his clothes). He stripped the bed and tied the sheets together and fastened the makeshift rope to the windowsill. As he prepared to climb out, the article caught his eye. He imagined it was Master Harker and tore it into little pieces. He climbed down hand-over- hand and prayed his knots would hold. He felt that the end of the rope was near, so he looked over his shoulder. He'd have to jump the rest of the way. He braced himself and let go. He picked himself up off the ground and headed for the security shed to "borrow" a torch. He then headed across the fields to find that man.

**************************************************************

Kevin looked at the ground underneath Jamie's window. "He definitely jumped here. You can still see the footprints." He pointed toward the woods. "He went that way, I think."

"What do you expect us to do?" asked Dobson. "We still have classes."

"Would you rather go to class, or find out what happened to Jamie?"

"Guess you're right. Let's go."

The boys raced across the fields and into the wood. "This is where we met that man. He sounded pretty gruff, yet he said something that got Jamie thinking. Maybe that's why he left."

Cunningham picked up a piece of cloth. "It's a school tie. Must be Jamie's."

"That proves he was here then," said Dobson, giving in to the excitement. "Where could he have gone from here?"

Kevin had been studying the ground for footprints. "I think that man took him. Their footprints go off together."

"What reason would a bum have for taking a young lord?" asked Cunningham.

"He saw Jamie's notebook and read the parts about the robbery. Maybe he thought Jamie had something on him," said Kevin.

"If that's the case, we'd better hurry. We don't know what he plans to do."

******************************************************

Jamie stood at the edge of the clearing, trying to gather up courage to move forward. He had turned off the torch because he didn't want the man to see him until he was ready. He could see the fire but not the man.

"C'm in, lad. I've bin waitin' fer ye."

"You knew I'd be back?"

"Could tell by lookin' that ye need tae know th'answers. C'm sit down. I wunt put a hand tae ye."

Jamie knew by his voice that he was trustworthy, but he wanted to make sure. "Let me see you first."

A shadow rose and stood in front of the fire. Jamie noticed by his stature that he was younger than he thought. "Aye, yer a cautious one. Ye dunt see much o' that in a lad yer age." He motioned with his hand. "C'm 'round and have a bit tae eat. I'm unarmed and wunt harm ye."

Jamie moved forward. "What did you mean by 'Ye'd be amazed at who do robb'ries'?"

The man laughed. "I thought it straightforward." He gave Jamie a cup of tea. "Warm yerself by the fire. Ye look tired."

"I am, a bit." Jamie sat by the fire and stared at the flames. He could barely keep his eyes open and fell asleep.

The man wrapped him in a blanket carefully as not to wake him. He then went over to a rock and pulled a small tin box from behind it. A jingling noise came from within. "What a job. Can't believe I did it." He looked at the boy. "'Nd ye'd better no' ruin it." The man took another blanket, wrapped himself up, and settled down for the night.

Jamie opened one eye and looked at him. He seemed different from yesterday. Then he saw the box. He must have stolen the coins! He crept over to the box and cautiously lifted the catch. He looked around to find something in which to put the coins. He finally settled on tearing a corner of the blanket and tying it with his tie. He realized the man would see his tie was missing, so he took a bit of string out of his pocket and used that instead. He buried the bundle and placed pebbles inside the box to make noise. He then went back to sleep.

*******************************************************

The three boys searched the area trying to find out in which direction the two went. "Over here!" called Cunningham. "Footprints go this way!"

The others came over. "Looks like they're heading for town," said Dobson.

"Maybe he's meeting up with his partner and took Jamie with him so he wouldn't talk."

"Sometimes your imagination goes too far, Cambridge."

"He's been pretty right so far," said Cunningham. "It couldn't hurt to try and find him in town."

"Oh, all right."

"Okay, we're off!" said Cambridge as he bounded through the brush.

*********************************************************

The man shook Jamie awake. "Time tae go, lad. We'll be headin' fer town so we dunt need food."

Jamie stretched and yawned. "Why are you taking me with you?"

"Dunt want ye ruinin' m'plan. 'Sides, it'll give ye somethin' tae write 'bout."

"You'll let me write it? It wouldn't bother you?"

"Not a mite. C'mon, time tae go."

Jamie noticed that the man had packed everything into an easy-to-carry bundle. Had he noticed the switch? He didn't seem to. "Sure. I'm ready."

Once in town they went to a small cafe for breakfast. The man ordered eggs for the two of them. "Do I have yer waird that ye wunt run 'way till I cum back?"

Jamie drank his orange juice. "Yes, but can't I go with you? I mean, if I'm gonna write about it?"

The man smiled. "I admire yer spunk, lad, but I cunt let ye risk it. The man I'm goin' tae meet might have a gun. I'm not sayin dunt cum, but if ye do, stay hid."

Jamie looked at the man in a new light. "You're not a regular thief, are you? If you were, you wouldn't be so nice to me."

"Let's just say I have a weakness fer kids." He smiled. "Now eat up. I've got tae go soon."

The man paid then headed for his rendezvous with the buyer of his merchandise. Jamie ran across the street and followed him to an empty building. He crossed his fingers and hoped the buyer had already seen the coins. Otherwise, he wouldn't see that man again.

********************************************************

The young trio made it into town. "I'm thirsty," remarked Cambridge. "Let's get something to drink. We can look some more afterwards."

"Kevin, you're the one who said we had to hurry!"

"Just testing. They had to eat this morning, right? Maybe someone in the caff saw them."

"Sure you were just testing," said Dobson sarcastically.

"We can't just go in and ask questions, we have to order something." He smiled and went inside. "Excuse me, sir," he said to the man behind the counter. "We're looking for a friend of ours who might have been in earlier."

"Aye, there was a young lad in here with a man this mornin'. Could've been his father. Left about two hours ago." He wiped the counter purposefully. "Can I get you something?"

Kevin looked smugly at the others. "Three glasses of milk, please."

The boys drank their milk and congratulated Kevin on his idea. "You actually did something right," said Dobson as he patted him on the back. "All we have to do now is find out where they went."

"Wherever they went, it was two hours ago. That doesn't mean they're still there," said Cunningham.

"If we find out where they went after here, we can find out where they went after that,"

"Your logic confuses me sometimes, Kevin," said Cunningham.

"Sometimes? It confuses me all the time," Dobson remarked. "And it scares me that I understand it."

The man behind the counter mentioned that he had seen them go across the street to an abandoned building. "Thank you very much," said Kevin as he paid him. "You just may have saved a life." He ran out.

The man looked puzzled. "Don't worry about him," said Cunningham. "He's getting carried away." He followed Kevin.

Dobson looked after them. "Excellent milk, my good man. Keep up the good work," he said with dignity before he ran after them.

They reached the building. "This is it," said Dobson. He stood at the door. "Kevin, you do the honors. After all, it was your idea."

"Thank you so much, Dobson. I won't forget you for this." He slowly pushed open the door. The room was dark except for the light coming from behind him. "Okay, we've looked. They're not here now. We can go." Kevin turned abruptly. Dobson and Cunningham each took an arm and brought him forward into the room.

While Dobson held onto Kevin, Cunningham found and turned on the light switch. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here in ages," he remarked as he blew dust off a tabletop.

Once the lights came on, Kevin shook off Dobson's hand. "Look, footprints!"

"Dust is good for something after all," said Dobson.

They ended at the wall. "There's got to be a trigger to open the panel," Cunningham said.

The three boys felt, knocked, and pulled everything available in the hopes of finding their friend before it was too late.

********************************************************************

Jamie watched the man walk through the dusty room. There was no one else there. He crept closer. He watched as the man walked to the wall, touched something, and a secret panel opened. As the door began to close, Jamie ran quickly and slipped through. He hid in a dark corner and saw the man walk to a table and place the box on top. A man in a suit (Jamie could only see the sleeves) prepared to open it. Jamie couldn't let the man dies, so he knocked over the box he was hiding behind.

"Who's there?" called Mr. X. Jamie came out from his hiding place. "It's you," he said as if he were expecting him. "He turned to Jamie's "friend". "Did you know he was here?"

"No, sir. I didn't." He looked at Jamie. "What're ye doin' here?"

"There are no coins in that box. I took 'em out and buried 'em in the clearing."

"Ye what?"

Mr. X noticed the disagreement and came over. "What's wrong?"

The man knew he had to tell. "The lad took the coins out an' buried 'em."

"Where, boy?" He grabbed Jamie's arm.

"In the clearing where we stayed last night. I buried 'em under the spot where the box was."

Mr. X turned to the man. "Go to this clearing and bring the coins back. I'll keep his Lordship here as insurance that you'll come back. If you don't, or if you bring back the police, he dies." He held Jamie's arm tighter and pulled him close.

"I made a deal tae get ye the coins, but I dunt want tae be involved wi' murder."

"All the more reason to bring me those coins."

The man walked over to Jamie. "If I dunt make it, I want ye tae have this," he whispered as he pressed a cloth-wrapped object into his hands.

"What about. . ?"

"He wunt kill ye. Open it when I go. It'll clear this up." He left.

Jamie looked at the object in his hand. It was small and he didn't want Mr. X to see it, so he put it in his pocket. Mr. X forced him to sit in the chair then left, sealing Jamie in the room. Jamie took the item out of his pocket and unwrapped it, revealing his father's signet ring with the family crest. "Dad?" Looking back at what he had done, Jamie wished he hadn't meddled. His father probably had everything going perfectly until he messed it up. Now he felt more helpless than ever.

Close to an hour and a half later, the door opened again and both men walked in. The Scot smiled at Jamie and he'd a finger to his lips to keep him quiet. "Now, let me see those coins," Mr. X said. The man handed over the bundle. "At last, some of the rarest coins in the world." His eyes literally glowed with excitement. He put them in the strongbox. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He headed for the door.

"What're ye doin'? This was nae part of our deal!"

"I don't keep deals with thieves. Good-bye to you both!"

Jamie cried out in horror. "No!" The door slid shut and locked. Jamie's father, the duke of Edinburgh a.k.a. Steven Taylor, former thief, laughed. "What are you laughing at?"

He lifted his lapel to his mouth. "Did you get everything, Sergeant?"

"Every word, your Grace. We'll be waiting for him."

Jamie looked at him. "Why did you take the coins?"

"I took them for safe-keeping. The manager knew all along. The CID has been trying to catch this man red-handed and asked for my help once I got back from the States. The manager spread the story of the theft so our man wouldn't be suspicious."

"But--" He was shushed by his father's raised hand. He heard something.

*******************************************************

While searching by a stack of crates near the wall, Kevin suddenly stopped. "Do you guys hear something?"

"Like what? Heavy breathing or footsteps?" teased Dobson.

"Oh, be serious." Kevin put his ear to the wall and heard what sounded like voices. "Now listen and tell me you don't hear anything."

Cunningham placed his ear against the wall and listened. "He's right, there is someone in there."

Kevin pounded on the wall. "Jamie! Are you in there?"

There was a return knock. "Kevin, glad to hear you!" There was a pause and Kevin heard murmuring. "Pull down on the sconce and press the knot by the seam. That should open it."

Dobson held the sconce while Kevin pressed the knot. The panel slid open and Jamie and his father came out. "We thought you were a goner," said Kevin. He stopped and stared at Steven. "What're you. . . ?"

"It's okay, Kevin. He saved my life. I'll explain everything back at school."

"But what about the coins?" asked Cunningham.

"The polis have 'em, lad," said Steven in his burr, wishing to keep his identity secret.

When they reached the school, they were told to report directly to the headmaster as the "mystery man" took his leave. Jamie went in first, followed by Kevin, Cunningham, and Dobson. "Where have you boys been? It doesn't lend credibility to our school when four boys go off wandering alone."

"It's my fault, sir," said Jamie. "I was so desperate to finish my article I left without telling anyone. They thought I was in trouble and came looking for me."

"I don't know what to do with you, Stuart."

"I'll handle it." All five faces turned to see who had spoken. Steven had washed and shaved, looking very different from the man the boys had left earlier.

"Certainly, your Grace," said the headmaster, "but I must take care of the others."

"I think it was just a case of devoted friendship. They went to help a friend they thought in trouble. Now what's the harm in that?" The headmaster said nothing. "As for you," he said to Jamie, "we need to have a little talk."

"Yes, Dad."

Ah, the joys of parenthood.