Chapter Thirty-Six: Jilted

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

The company car park is empty due to the season, sparing us quite as many odd looks. I stick to the back of the group to ensure that we all get into the building safely. "To you lot this might just be a locksmith's," the Doctor shouts over his shoulder, pelting across the grand reception, "but HC Clements was bought up twenty-three years ago by the Torchwood Institute."

Lance is quick to turn his suspicion onto me. "Hang on, isn't that what you said back at the hotel?"

"Yeah," Donna harshly agrees. "Come on, then. How come you're getting involved?"

Sighing, I join the Doctor by one of the desks and pinch a peppermint from a 'World's Best Mum' mug finger-painted with the clumsy talents of a small child. "Not with them anymore... well, not in this universe, anyway. Never heard of this branch before."

She scoffs, "Well, that's bloody helpful, isn't it? Who are they?"

"We're meant to protect this planet from alien threats. This lot went dodgy, though. Got too caught up in the 'empire' and all that nonsense. Behind all that mess around Canary Wharf."

The reference is lost on her. Quickly growing impatient, the Doctor peers over the box-like computer at her. "Cyberman invasion," he tries. Still nothing. "Skies over London full of Daleks?"

"I was in Spain."

"They had Cybermen in Spain."

"Scuba-diving."

His eyes narrow and he sways a little, barely seeming to notice when his shoulder knocks into mine. "That big picture, Donna, you keep on missing it." And in a second he is off again, sprinting around to the desk opposite, separated by a low glass panel adorned with tinsel and Blu-tacked Christmas cards. "I think someone else came in and took over the operation," he continues with a punctuated slap to the side of the monitor when it fails to keep up with his overactive mind.

She leans over his shoulder to keep at least a scrap of his attention and continues with desperate emphasis on each word, "But what do they want with me?"

The clacking of keys stops. He faces her with a tensing of his shoulders. "Somehow, you've been dosed with Huon energy... and that's a problem because Huon energy hasn't existed since the dark times. The only place you'd find a Huon particle now is a remnant in the heart of the Tardis."

Rolling my eyes, I take up the mug and help myself to another peppermint. "Now? Now you mention that?"

"Yup," he answers with an exaggerated pop of his lips. Without warning, the mug is snatched from my hands and the sweets are tipped out onto the desk. I gape at him, arms outstretched as if grasping for an apology. "Say that's the Tardis—" the Doctor reaches right past me for a lone pencil perched precariously atop a stack of paperwork that never made it past the holiday rush "—and that's you. The particles inside you activated, the two sets of particles magnetised and whap!" He drops the pencil inside. "You were pulled inside the Tardis."

Donna takes a moment to process the bizarreness of her predicament before she finally says, "I'm a pencil inside a mug."

"Yes, you are. 4H — sums you up." Now the analogy is complete, he discards the items and crunches on a sweet, tossing me one as if to make up for the blatant theft. "Lance, what was HC Clements working on? Anything top secret, special operations, do not enter?"

He shrugs awkwardly. "I don't know. I'm in charge of personnel, I wasn't project manager."

The Doctor has already turned away, though, taking a seat at yet another abandoned desk and using his sonic to access it. I lean without thinking and my hand finds his shoulder to prop myself up with as I look to the groom once more. "Trust me, there would have been something. Come on, I need you to think. Were there any weird conversations, phrases you didn't understand, important meetings you didn't get invited to?"

He looks utterly perplexed. "N-No? I mean, I don't think so... I suppose— Wait a minute. Why am I even explaining myself? What the hell are you talking about?"

I take the opportunity of the Doctor's distraction to wheel his chair out of the way and take my place in front of the computer he has now accessed for us. His eyes follow me, burning into the back of my head. I don't let it distract me from my search of the files. "You make keys," he says after a moment, "that's the point."

"Got it."

"Got what?" Lance snaps.

Looking to him with raised eyebrows, I gesture to the diagram of the building that now shows on the screen. "When in doubt, check the floorplans. They'll always help you catch out a lie. See, we're on the third floor. And there's a basement down there, so..."

The Doctor's eyes light up with realisation. "So how come when you look on the lift there's a button marked 'Lower Basement'?"

"But— But that makes no sense."

I give my temple a knowing tap. "Read between the lines, Lance. It's what we do best at Torchwood. All the good stuff's hidden there."

Following my confident march into to the lift, the Doctor examines the buttons with a grin. I barley get time to process it as he pulls me to him by my head and plants a firm kiss atop it. "Bloody brilliant, you are! You're right. There's a whole floor which doesn't exist on the official plans. So what's down there?"

He has pulled away just as quickly and I am left stunned, awkwardly smoothing down my hair. The groom still seems bewildered by it all and stares at us through the open doors. "Are you telling me this building's got a secret floor?"

"No, she's showing you this building's got a secret floor."

"It needs a key," Donna notes.

He already has his sonic ready. "I don't. Right, thanks, you two. We can handle this. See you later."

His finger is barely on the button before she strides into the small space. "No chance, Martian. You're the ones who keep saving my life, I ain't letting you out of my sight."

We exchange amused glances. "Going down."

"Lance!"

"Maybe I should go to the police—"

"Inside!"

All his complaints are supressed as he takes her side. A part of me can't help but find some strange asymmetry in our group — the two of us, friends parted for so long with so much unsaid and nothing to say, stood right behind a soon-to-be-wed couple. I can't quite understand what I see in it, though. Some sort of irony. His gaze meets mine in the reflection of the glass doors, like he hears this baffling internal monologue, and he manages a weak smirk. I return it but realise that it isn't directed at me too late. "To honour and obey," he mutters.

Lance scowls. "Tell me about it, mate."

"Oi!"

We step out into a damp tunnel. Green exit signs shine on puddled floors to create an endless tunnel of unearthly light. Donna takes the lead, poking her head around the corner to find nothing different. "Where are we? What goes on down here?"

"Let's find out."

"D'you think Mr Clements knows about this place?"

He scoffs and sends me a sidelong glance. "The mysterious HC Clements? Oh, I think he's part of it." Interest rises in his voice as something catches his eye. "Oh, look. Transport!"

Sure enough, a few Segways stand against the wall. We take one each, fumbling through the first few metres until it evens out. The Doctor and Donna make eye contact. Then he glances to me. I can feel it coming, infectious before the laughter even takes hold. Soon the three of us can barely drive in a straight line for our breathless cackles.

Once again the Doctor and I find each other and his amusement softens, our attention remaining on each other. A bump shocks us back to the present as our scooters gently collide, prompting us to manoeuvre ourselves back on track and focus on the corridor ahead.

Hopping off, we come to a large metal door. I decide to take the lead, using my strength to force the wheel lock around and push it open. All there is inside is a ladder leading to shadows above. The Doctor follows close after as I begin to climb and motions for the others to stop. "Wait here, just need to get our bearings. Don't do anything."

Donna cranes her neck to see what we could possibly be heading up to. "You'd better come back."

"Couldn't get rid of you if I tried," he mutters.

The climb is further than I had expected. Halfway up, I pause to look for him. He isn't far behind and returns a warm smile when he sees me. We move on again.

When I stop to turn the wheel that locks a hatch above us, carefully using both hands and locking my feet into the sides of the rungs, I feel him move up a little further. A light touch against the small of my back steadies me just as the jolt of the opened hatch sets me off balance. Sunlight pours in. I send him a grin to find him already watching me. He accepts my offer for help once I have pulled myself up.

Birds squawk in the distance. Water sparkles on every side of the concrete platform we stand on, helmed by curved metal like the billow of a sail. Beyond the other platforms, the city spikes from the horizon. The sun has already sunk out of view and casts streaks of pink and orange across the clouds.

Our hands squeeze though I can't be quite sure which one of us initiates it. I hum. "Not too bad. For London."

"Not at all."

I move back to the hatch but he has other ideas, brushing against my shoulder to stop me. He can't have planned through his next actions as he pauses for a moment, just watching me, ascertaining my reaction to his touch. Whatever he sees in my eyes and the anticipatory quiver of my bottom lip is enough.

He coaxes me closer until he can wrap his arms securely around my middle. They slip up to pull me even closer, fingers splaying out against my back, digging into it lightly but securely. It's the kind of hug where more is never enough, where you search for as much of them to hold as you can, where you would become them if you could. Just to be closer. Just to be sure that they won't go again.

I don't waste a second, hugging him back, hiding my face in the curve of his neck. "I missed you," I find myself whispering against all better judgement, as if I have learned nothing.

A part of me hopes that his skin is enough to muffle it but his hold on me tightens protectively. He offers no response in words but I can hear the parts he wishes to share just as clearly. There is another message, one that I can't be sure is sent by him or I in the new strength of our grasp, one that must remain unsaid.

We step back reluctantly. A kiss lingers on my forehead, too light to be sure it was ever there at all. I lean up to keep as much of its bliss as I can. My arms fall limp at my sides. They suddenly feel quite empty.

Donna and Lance wait expectantly for us at the bottom of the ladder. Jumping the last few rungs, the Doctor declares, "Thames Flood Barrier! Right on top of us. Torchwood snuck in and built this place underneath."

Her eyes widen. "What, there's, like, a secret base hidden underneath a major London landmark?"

"I know. Unheard of." Leading the way a little further down the corridor, he opens a door into a brightly lit lab. Glass tubes framed with metal run almost all the way to the ceiling, bubbling with a bluish liquid. "Ooh, look at this! Stunning."

"What does it do?" she asks as I hurry past, peering at a clipboard attached to a large tanker.

"Particle extrusion. Never seen it on this large a scale before, though."

The Doctor presses his face right up against one of the tubes. "Brilliant. They've been manufacturing Huon particles. My people got rid of Huons, they unravelled the atomic structure."

Still by the doorway, Lance frowns. "Your 'people'? Who are they? What company do you represent?"

"Oh, we're freelancers. But this lot are rebuilding them. They've been using the river, extruding them through a flat hydrogen base so they've got the end result—" he detaches a small vial full of the liquid "—Huon particles in liquid form."

Donna eyes it warily. "And that's what's inside me?" To confirm, he twists a thin rod fixed into the top, setting the particles aglow. Her body follows suit, her skin shining like gold. "Oh my God!"

"Genius. 'Cause the particles are inert, they need something living to catalyse inside, and that's you! Saturate the body, then—" He jumps, shouting excitedly, "Oh! The wedding! Yes, you were getting married, that's it! Best day of your life, walking down the aisle. Oh, your body's a battleground. It's a chemical war inside — adrenaline, acetylcholine, wham go the endorphins. Oh, you're cooking! Yeah, you're like a pressure cooker, a microwave, all churning away. The particles reach boiling point, shazam!"

A slap to the cheek puts a stop to his rant. Blinking like a lost puppy, he glances between us. "What did I do this time?"

"Are you enjoying this?" His shock fades away and he goes quiet, realising the insensitivity of his excitement. She huffs. "Right, just tell me, these particles, are they dangerous? Am I safe?"

"Yes."

Catching onto the croak of guilt in his voice, I place my hands on my hips and Donna warns, "Doctor. If your lot got rid of Huon particles, why did they do that?"

I recognise that defeated look, that fear. The knowledge that yet another person may be lost and we are too late. "Because they were deadly."

A hoarse gasp escapes her, "Oh my God."

"I'll sort it out. Whatever's been done to you, I'll reverse it. I am not about to lose someone else."

Speakers I had not noticed crackle to life. A sharp hiss comes from all around us, "Oh, she is long since lost." The wall beside us rises slowly, opening onto a much larger room. A circular hole darkens the centre of it, shadows spilling into the chasm. "I have waited so long, hibernating at the edge of the universe until the secret heart was uncovered and called out to waken."

Along the concrete walkways above, dozens of roboforms turn. Their black hoods slip a little to reveal blank, golden faces and gun muzzles that glint in the green light.

I glance behind me to see the doors swing shut. Lance is gone. Striding over to the others, I stand on the other side of Donna and glare protectively out at the empty room. "Someone's been digging," the Doctor remarks. He steps closer and we follow, peering down the chasm. The shadows grow thicker and thicker below until we can't even see the edges. "Oh, very Torchwood. Drilled by laser. How far down does it go?"

I still can't see who addresses us. "Down and down. All they way to the centre of the Earth."

"Really? Seriously? What for?"

"Dinosaurs."

We both look to Donna, bewildered. "What?"

Her certainty fades a little and she repeats, a little quieter than before, "Dinosaurs?"

"What are you on about, 'dinosaurs'?"

She shrugs. "That film under the earth, with the dinosaurs. I'm trying to help."

"That's not helping."

"Oi," I hiss, elbowing him. "Doesn't hurt to be nice, you know."

He shoots me a teasing smile. "Depends."

"Such a sweet couple."

Instantly, we break apart. I brush my hair out of my eyes and turn my attention to the roboforms once again. The Doctor glowers at them. "Only a madman talks to thin air and, trust me, you don't want to make me mad. Where are you?"

"High in the sky... floating so high on Christmas night."

"I didn't come all this way to talk on the intercom. Come on! Let's have a look at you!"

The voice growls. I become aware of a faint clicking behind its words, "Who are you, with such command?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Prepare your best medicines, Doctor-man, for you will be sick at heart."

A light burns into existence on the other side of the chasm. A creature stands before us, towering ten feet tall. Her lower half is that of a spider and her upper a woman with jagged horns sprouting from her scalp. Her form is red and waxy, solid as rock, and black eyes bead her forehead. Rearing her head, she bares her fangs at us.

He gapes at her and stumbles back. "Racnoss. But that's impossible. You're one of the Racnoss."

At the insult, she rises higher on her eight jointed legs. "Empress of the Racnoss."

"If you're the Empress, where's the rest of the Racnoss? Or... are you the only one?"

She points a pincered arm at him, almost condescendingly. "Such a sharp mind."

"That's it — the last of your kind." Letting her continue her hissing and posing, he leans closer to Donna and I to whisper, "The Racnoss come from the dark times, billions of years ago. Billions. They were carnivores, omnivores, they devoured whole planets."

"Racnoss are born starving. Is that our fault?"

Doing a double-take towards the creature, Donna shakes her head as if to clear it. "They eat people?"

"HC Clements, did he wear those— those, um, black and white shoes?"

The comment baffles her but seems to ease her fear for a second. "He did. We used to laugh, we used to call him the Fat Cat in Spats." Without a word, he points to something above us. A tangle of white webs span the ceiling. At the centre pokes out a pair of the very same shoes. "Oh my God!"

The Empress hums, the sound grating in her throat. "My Christmas dinner." Her laughter comes in gargled bursts, accompanied by a clicking of her pincers.

"You shouldn't even exist. Way back in history, the Fledgling Empires went to war against the Racnoss. They were wiped out."

"Except for me."

Movement catches our eye on the walkway just behind the Empress. Lance creeps along, axe in hand, gesturing for us to keep his presence a secret. Donna tries to supress her smirk. "That's what I've got inside me, that Huon energy thing." The Empress starts to turn. "Oi! Look at me, lady, I'm talking! Where do I fit in? How come I get all stacked up with these Huon particles? Look at me, you! Look me in the eye and tell me!"

She chitters again, oblivious of the man creeping down the stairs behind her, ready to attack. "The bride is so feisty."

"Yes, I am! And I don't know what you are, you big... thing, but a spider's just a spider... and an axe is an axe. Now do it!"

Lance raises it and we watch in anticipation. Rearing onto her back legs again, the creature screeches. He freezes.

At first it seems like sheer terror but then I see a cruel glint in his eyes. Cold laughter escapes him and the Empress joins. "That was a good one," he cheers. "Your face!"

"Lance is funny."

"What?"

Lowering my head, I curse under my breath. "I'm sorry," the Doctor says.

She still doesn't seem to understand. "'Sorry' for what? Lance, don't be so stupid. Get her!"

"God, she's thick." And just like that, the hope in her husband-to-be is gone. Hurt and confusion drowns in her eyes. He continues, gesturing to us as if truly expecting us to sympathise with him, "Months I've had to put up with her, months! A woman who can't even point to Germany on a map!"

Her lips part but a response doesn't come for a moment. When it does, she is quieter than I have ever heard her before, "I don't understand."

The beginnings of rage start to take hold of me. I unclench my fist, resting it on her shoulder. The Doctor sighs, "How did you meet him?"

It's hard for her to tear her gaze from her betrayer. "In the office."

"He made you coffee."

"What?"

"Every day," Lance taunts, stepping alongside his supposed accomplice, "I made you coffee."

The Doctor's jaw clenches at the arrogance in his voice. "You had to be dosed with liquid particles over six months."

"He was poisoning

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net