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saiilorstars · 5 years ago

Text

Stars Dance

Ch. 13: The Writer

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: 11th Doctor x Original Female Character

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Chapter summary: The Doctor and Avalon get thrown out of the TARDIS and are forced to stay with Craig Owens, a man who can't seem to figure out what he was literally has right in front of him. At the same time, the Doctor finally learns what has been preventing Avalon from finding peace in her sleep.

(Previous chapters)

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

The TARDIS materialized in a modern day city of London, unbeknownst to the trio inside. Avalon hurried up to the doors with a long, shoulder brown bag dangling on her side. She was expecting something grand as the Doctor promised but when she poked her head out, all she saw a boring old park. "Oh, nope not that fifth moon of whatever," she called and hopped onto the grass.

"It's the fifth moon of Sinda Callista," the Doctor corrected as he headed for the doors.

Avalon scoffed, "You do realize how terrible your piloting skills are, right? I keep telling you that you need to teach me so that I can one day teach that River Song woman."

"The day I do that is the day pigs will fly," he poked his head out and looked around, "Is that a Ryman's?" he blinked.

"I should punch you," Avalon muttered.

However, a blast from inside pushed the Doctor forwards. Avalon stepped to the side in time and watched him fall to the ground with a small laugh, "That's what you get," she teased. "I bet the TARDIS agreed with me!"

The Doctor groaned on the ground, about to believe that once again his TARDIS chose to side with Avalon, when the doors shut abruptly. Avalon blinked in surprise and even more so when the box began dematerializing.

"Amy!" the Doctor shouted as he sat up, "Amy!"

"What's going on?" Avalon frowned and put a hand in the air where the TARDIS had just been in, "Why'd it just...go? Is Amy alright?" she looked down at the Doctor, the man confused as much as she was.

~ 0 ~

"Are you sure this is the house, Amy?" Avalon was asking as she hurried down the street, speaking to her friend through an ear piece the Doctor had come up with earlier to communicate with her in the TARDIS.

"Yes, that's the place," Amy answered, "Now hurry please and get me out of here!"

It seemed like something nonhuman was preventing the TARDIS from making a proper landing and therefore was keeping Amy inside. The Doctor had found its origins in a flat owned by a Craig Owens. They'd found an advert in a shop with a note saying to go to that flat, written by Amy apparently. But, the Doctor being himself wanted to go straight to the house and pose as lodgers. Avalon reminded him that they needed money and would therefore go to take out some money from her account. And being impatient as usual, he went first to the flat while Avalon went to take out money. She only hoped that he hadn't ruined it for them yet.

Avalon knocked on the door of the designated flat and waited for someone to answer. Eventually, a man with brown hair and blue eyes opened up, and by the face he had Avalon could tell the Doctor had already made his usual impression.

"Hi," Avalon politely smiled, "I'm-"

"Ginger hair," Craig mumbled.

And immediately Avalon went into a fit of irritation, "Is that how that stupid bow-tie, floppy haired man introduced me?"

"And there's the temper," Craig nodded.

Avalon frowned even deeper, "DOCTOR!" she shouted and went inside.

The Doctor casually came out of the living room and smiled, "Avalon, nice of you to make it."

Avalon controlled herself from strangling him right there and then, "You introduced me how?"

"Just the basics," the Doctor shrugged, not even realizing how much worse that made it for her.

"You introduced me as the temperamental, ginger haired woman?" Avalon's mouth dropped, not sure whether to feel more angry or be hurt. But if it was true, which she knew it was, why would it 'hurt' to be introduced like that? Lots of people used to do that back in Leadworth. Why was it such a big deal now? And upon coming to an inconclusive answer, she let the entire thing go and simply cleared her throat and turned to Craig, basically starting all over again, "Hi, my name is Avalon Reynolds," she extended her hand and waited for it to be shaken.

"Craig Owens..." the man slowly shook her hand, being cautious not to upset her again.

"Um, I'm with him," Avalon gestured to the Doctor, "Heard about the room...um, we've got money to cover the month," she picked up her purse and took out a paper bag, "Here you go," she handed it to Craig.

"Yeah, but I was explaining to him that...I only just put the advert today," Craig was eyeing them oddly, probably suspicious which Avalon couldn't blame him for.

"I shop a lot," was her excuse, "Saw the advert myself and told him about it."

"Yes, so...who lives upstairs?" the Doctor had been staring up at the door of the second level. Avalon followed his gaze and found it creepy with the flickering light bulb.

"Just some bloke," Craig answered, still eyeing them.

"What does he look like?" the Doctor asked.

"Normal. He's very quiet," Craig said and soon after they heard a loud bang from upstairs.

"Sure about that?" Avalon raised an eyebrow.

Without another word, the Doctor entered the living room again, much to Craig's irritation as the man seemed to like wandering about in a place that hadn't even been rented to him yet.

"Excuse me!?" Craig went to follow him in.

Avalon sighed and entered the living room afterwards. She saw the Doctor once more looking up and followed it to a corner of the ceiling where a stain was prominently set. "Is that...dry rot?" she guessed, not entirely sure it was even close. To anyone else it might seem like a normal stain, herself included, but knowing that there was something alien in this house was a bit of a cheat.

"Or damp. Or mildew," Craig shrugged.

"Or none of the above," the Doctor mumbled.

"I'll get someone to fix it," Craig waved it off and turned to the pair.

"No, I'll fix it. I'm good at fixing rot," the Doctor began, "Call me the Rotmeister. No, I'm the Doctor, don't call me the Rotmeister..."

"Before you say something more stupid-" Avalon turned and looked around, "-this is the most beautiful parlor I have ever seen, you're obviously a man of impeccable taste, Craig," she complemented and walked around a bit, "Not many men can manage living on their own and still have a nice house. I mean, the only reason my house was clean was because I cleaned it. My dad is lovely and all but he was not a cleaning man, much less my brother," she rolled her eyes, "So kudos to you, really," she smiled, "Can we stay?"

"You haven't even seen the room," Craig felt the need to point out.

"The room?" the Doctor repeated, not quite there yet.

"He means the room we'd be staying in," Avalon sighed and walked up to Craig, taking charge of the situation, "Can we see it, then?"

"Uh, right," Craig nodded and walked back into the hallway.

"Take us to our room!" the Doctor cheerfully exclaimed. Avalon looked back at him and stared for a moment, "What?" he frowned.

"You are really lucky that box of yours can serve as a home because quite frankly...you stink at being human," she shook her head and led them into the hallway where Craig awaited them by the door of the room they'd be taking.

He unlocked it for them and opened the door to reveal a simple room with a bed in the center, pushed up against the wall, wardrobe pieces set around with a couch chair at the far end. Craig allowed Avalon and the Doctor in first while he explained the details, "Yeah, this is Mark's old room, he owns the place, moved out about a month ago. An uncle he'd never even heard of died and left a load of money."

The Doctor was testing the bed while looking around, "How very convenient. This'll do just right. In fact..." but he stopped when they heard more noise upstairs.

"We'll take it," Avalon said quietly as she looked up.

The Doctor stood up and pulled out his psychic paper, "You'll want to see our credentials," and he started listing each as he swapped the paper from hand to hand behind his back, "There...National Insurance number... NHS number... References..."

"Is that a reference from the Archbishop of Canterbury?" Craig pointed as the Doctor put away the psychic paper.

"I'm his special favorite," the Doctor informed casually and put a finger to his lips, "Are you hungry? I'm hungry."

"I haven't got anything in," Craig said but the Doctor was already halfway out the room.

"Believe me that won't stop him," Avalon shrugged and went after the Doctor.

The Doctor was raiding the fridge and cabinets as if it really were his home, "You've got everything I need for an omelette fines herbes! Pour deux!" he cheered and started to cook, "So who's the girl on the fridge?"

Avalon looked at the fridge and saw a picture of Craig and a blonde, blue-eyed, woman set on the top door. Alright, so maybe he did notice some things...

"My friend. Sophie," Craig said.

"Girlfriend?" Avalon asked.

"A friend who is a girl. There's nothing going on."

Avalon narrowed her eyes with an amused smile, "Okay," she sarcastically said.

"We met at work about a year ago at the call center," Craig hadn't even noticed the look of Avalon as he was still staring at the picture.

"Oh, really, a communications exchange?" the Doctor mused, "That could be handy."

"Firm's going down though. The bosses are using a totally rubbish business model. I know what they should do, I got a plan all worked out, but I'm just a phone drone, I can't go running in saying I know best," Craig suddenly stopped and stared at the pair, "Why am I telling you this? I don't even know you."

"I've got one of those faces. People never stop blurting out their plans while I'm around," the Doctor shrugged.

"He wishes," Avalon scoffed and went into the fridge, feeling hungry herself but not in the mood for omelettes.

"Right, where's your stuff?" Craig asked.

"Don't worry, it'll materialize, if all goes to plan," the Doctor looked around.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor and Craig sat down in the living room after finishing up their food, Craig surprised by the talent of the Doctor had for cooking, "Oh, that was incredible! That was absolutely brilliant. Where did you learn to cook?"

"Paris, in the 18th century," the Doctor said without thinking then shook his head, "No, hang on, that's not recent, is it? 17th? No, no, no, 20th. Sorry, I'm not used to doing them in the right order."

"Stop talking before you really ruin it," Avalon joined them holding a bottle of yogurt in her hands. She managed to find it all the way in the back of the fridge.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit weird?" Craig had to ask. Avalon seemed far more normal which then made him question how the two worked together.

"They never really stop," the Doctor shrugged. Avalon gave him his credit for not being fazed by the question. "Ever been to Paris, Craig?"

"Nah, I can't see the point of Paris. I'm not much of a traveler."

"I can tell from your sofa," the Doctor gestured, Avalon wondering where the hell he was going to take that.

"My sofa?" Craig repeated, confused.

"You're starting to look like it."

"I have half a mind to throw this at you," Avalon sighed as she played with her spoon in her yogurt, "But I'm hungry so I'll settle for this," she whacked the Doctor's arm. The Doctor still didn't seem to understand what she was so upset over, Craig didn't seem upset. He was laughing.

"Thanks, mate, that's lovely! No, I like it here..." Craig seemed to get distant as he fondled a bright pink key chain in his hand, "I'd miss it, I'd miss..."

"Whoever owns those keys, I'm assuming," Avalon stared with amusement as she moved over to sit on the long couch with Craig.

"What?" Craig snapped out of his nearlike trance.

"You're fondling the key chain," the Doctor pointed.

"I'm holding them."

Avalon quietly scoffed, "Right."

"Anyway..." Craig stood up and walked to a table by the entrance of the room to grab some keys, "These are your keys."

"We can stay?" the Doctor stood up and went to take the keys.

"Hooray," Avalon gave a pretend cheer and continued to eat her yogurt on the couch.

"Yeah, you're weird," Craig began but was cut off by Avalon clearing her throat.

"Him," she pointed at the Doctor without looking back, "He is weird."

Craig chuckled while the Doctor rolled his eyes, "And you can cook, it's good enough for me," Craig continued then held up each key and explained its function, "Right, outdoor, front door, your door."

"Ha-ha! Yes! Me with a key!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Oh boy, that can't go right," Avalon mumbled to herself.

"And listen, Mark and I, we had an arrangement where if you ever need me out of your hair, just give me a shout, OK?" Craig said quieter to the Doctor, nodding over to Avalon and winking.

The Doctor, not understanding, winked back, "Why would I want that?"

"In case you and your girlfriend want some time alone, I don't know..."

And then they heard Avalon coughing loudly from the couch, "Sorry," she stood up and scarfed down the yogurt in her mouth, "Sorry, we're not…" but she continued to cough. Before she made a further fool of herself, she rose to her feet, "It's not like that," she pointed at Craig and went for the kitchen to throw away her yogurt.

"Is she okay?" Craig asked.

The Doctor, who was also in a fit of blushes, averted the human's eyes and instead focused on the stain on the ceiling, clearing his throat, "I've got the strangest feeling we shouldn't touch it."

"Wasn't planning on it..." Craig looked back at it for a minute, seeing no relevant point of the stain. And when he looked to the Doctor he saw the man was gone. That was odd, then again the Doctor was odd as a person.

~ 0 ~

Avalon was returning to Craig's flat holding her journal in her hands, her long purse hanging on her shoulder. She'd taken a day out with her journal, going through every last page she'd ever written on to see just how many blank spaces there were. It had taken her all day but she'd finally come to the conclusion that she had forgotten something entirely big, something that had messed with her head. She entered the flat and quietly walked to the room designated hers, stopping a moment as she heard Craig speaking to someone over the phone in his room, assuming it was that Sophie woman again. She shook her head and entered her room just as the Doctor was heading out.

"Where are you going?" she asked, confused.

"I've got to go gather things for a makeshift scanner!" he cheered.

"Right, okay," she ignored it and walked further into the room, "Have you talked to Amy yet?"

"She's um...doing alright," the Doctor winced, preferring not to tell her about the TARDIS jolting poor Amy around each time there was a 'time loop' which originated from their upstairs roommate.

"By the way, there was something odd I saw at the park," Avalon let her purse fall on the bed, "People kept repeating themselves, like, um..."

"A time loop," the Doctor sighed.

"Yeah, what...what's that exactly?"

The Doctor pointed up and made Avalon look up, "Lovely gift from our roomie," the Doctor said, "The earpiece protects you from it. Don't take it off."

"I won't," she assured and opened her journal, hearing the Doctor begin to head out again, "Fairy tale man, can we...can we talk for a moment?" she turned to him, her journal still in hands.

"Oh, this is serious," the Doctor noticed the ginger's face. She rolled her eyes but let him have this one.

"Look, I don't know...maybe it's just me...I don't..." she bit her lip, the words were beginning to get strained. She didn't like asking for help, she never asked for help. It was who she was; asking for help meant she couldn't take care of herself and her problems.

"Avalon," the Doctor noticed the severity of what ever was she was trying to say and so he closed the door and walked over to her, "It's okay," he cautiously put a hand on her back, "You can tell me."

But Avalon sighed and shook her head, dropping her journal on the bed, "No, I can't. Forget this, forget I ever mentioned, I just..." she closed her eyes and rubbed the side of her head, "I'm tired."

"You are," the Doctor agreed.

He had grown worried to full blown morbidly concerned with her lack of sleep. Insomnia was one thing for humans but Avalon seemed to never want to sleep. He'd was tempted to simply knock her out and force her to sleep but then he would think of the big temper she'd throw after waking up and realizing what he'd done. He was not prepared for that kind of anger.

"I'm just...confused," Avalon mumbled, "There's things that don't make sense and with the lack of sleep I'm probably just making a big deal out of nothing," she pushed her journal and purse to the side.

That was also another possibility, she thought. Amy had also pointed that out and it could very well be true. Avalon couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten decent sleep. The lack of sleep could be making her over think the blank spaces in her journal.

"Look, why don't you lie down for a minute and I don't know...sleep?" the Doctor suggested ever-so-casually.

"Yeah, that...that doesn't sound so bad," Avalon admitted, "But don't you need help gathering the, um...what was it that you were going to get?"

"You leave that to me," the Doctor said and walked her to a side of the bed, "You just sleep, please."

"Okay, I get the memo," Avalon sat down, "I'm slowly losing it. I'll try to sleep, but...please stay out of trouble."

"I will...genuinely, try my best."

Avalon smiled and shook her head, "Please do. I don't want to get a call from the local police station. Although, it would be different being on the receiving end of the call this time," she mused of how odd it would be to be the good person for once.

"Try to get sleep, alright?" the Doctor said as she laid down, "I'll be back..." he trailed off as the ginger had her eyes closed and practically on the verge of sleep.

He sighed and quietly walked to the door, making sure to close it as quietly as possible. He looked up at the door at the top of the staircase while he backed to the entrance door of the flat. He didn't feel very comfortable leaving Avalon on her own, asleep, with the an unknown evil entity. He'd rather she come with him but he would also prefer for her to actually get some sleep. The only thing he could do now was hurry up and get back as fast as possible.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor kept true to his word and returned a mere hour and a half later...with a trolley filled different objects he'd found from random trash bins in the streets. He was being extra careful not to make any noise for Avalon as he entered their room. He closed the door and looked over at Avalon, disappointed to find her fussing in her sleep. By the looks of it, she was having a dream. He left the trolley and started walking for her when he spotted her journal and purse on the floor, probably knocked off by her fuss. He bent down and picked up the opened journal, about to shut it when he noticed empty spaces in the middle of her writing. He made sure not to read any lines for her privacy. He too had books about himself that he never wanted anyone to see and so he followed the same expectations with Avalon's journal. He shut it and looked at the cover. It was a dark brown leather bound journal that looked old and tattered. It bore Avalon's initials on lower bottom 'A.H .R.' and was covered in stickers he assumed she'd posted as a child. He smiled only for a moment before Avalon screamed and sat right up, scaring him enough to drop the journal.

"No! No! No! No!" Avalon was in actual sobs as she repeatedly swatted invisible things on her neck, "Get off me!"

The Doctor hurriedly moved on the bed to calm her down, trying to catch her swatting hands as she continued to shout in terror, "Avalon! Avalon it's me!" he tried to say but she was too much in a frantic mode to listen.

"No! No! Get off me! Get off me!" she sobbed with her eyes shut, "Please!"

"AVA!" the Doctor finally shouted in a louder tone that overpowered Avalon's.

She stopped and opened her eyes, breathing rapidly and heavily, and finally took a look around to see where she was again. She was in the flat, yes, she remembered now. She tried to sleep again...and had another nightmare. Again.

"It's okay now," the Doctor whispered, watching her eyes flicker from one thing in the room to another in such fear it actually pained him. Was that...was that normal?

"I'm sorry," her breath hitched as she spoke, "I...I had a dream..."

"Nightmare," he corrected, "And I'm guessing that's the reason behind your sleepless nights," she nodded and he recalled the other nights she'd appeared in the kitchen with more or less of the same appearance she had now, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no," she managed to say.

"I bet another reason you can't sleep is because you've been bottling this up to yourself," he sighed, "You can tell me, I've had plenty experience with nightmares."

"You have?" Avalon sniffled, hating how she must look to the Doctor at the moment. Her face was covered in tears and her hair was (and felt) like a mess. This was not how she ever wanted anyone to see her. She was Avalon, the girl who never cried. What was she doing?

"Yes, I have had terrible nightmares in my life," the Doctor sighed. He never told Avalon nor Amy what exactly happened with the rest of the Time Lords and Gallifrey, only that there'd been a war and they'd lost. He didn't want them to fear him nor look at him any different. He supposed that was probably selfish of him to let them believe he was a good man but...he just couldn't find it in him to actually sit down and tell the gingers what had happened.

"What about?" Avalon asked and wiped some tears off her face.

"Nothing you need to know about right now," the Doctor waved it off, "But you need sleep, Avalon. Now I would really like to know how to help you but I can't do anything unless I know what the problem is. Have some trust in me, Ava. I promise not a word about this will leave my mouth."

Avalon looked at him for a good minute as she pondered what he would think of her after she told him what kept her up every night.

"Trust in me, Ava," the Doctor insisted.

He knew that nickname was something she used with Rory but after visiting Mary Costa, the name had simply stuck as the name of Avalon's professional debut. He saw it as the moment their relationship had grown into actual friendship.

"It's about Venice..." Avalon suddenly said, her eyes looking down as if in shame.

"What about Venice?"

"It's, um..." she sniffled, "...I can't..." she quickly closed her eyes, "...it's hard to, um..."

"If it's too hard to say, you could just show me," the Doctor suggested as he saw the heavy struggle Avalon was in to utter a word about her nightmares.

"H-how?" Avalon looked up to see him holding his fingers to motion a telepathic exchange. With a sigh, Avalon she nodded and allowed him to place his fingers on her temples.

"I won't look at anything, just show me your dreams," the Doctor instructed.

"Okay," she swallowed hard and closed her eyes, doing just what he asked.

Immediately, the Doctor saw her nightmare...different moments in which she had been bitten and fed on by the Saturnynes. His hearts broke to see her so terrified and defenseless against them. He'd heard that Avalon never showed fear for the sake of Lena so she always kept it bottled in. He understood how difficult it must have been for Avalon to deal with what happened to her in Venice on her own. But because she never showed an ounce of fear to the others, the fear found another way to express itself: nightmares. And, because she kept the nightmares to herself and never asked for help, the nightmares increased in quantities and in strength.

"Avalon..." the Doctor took back his hands and looked at the ginger before him.

Avalon teared up and started sniffling louder and louder until she couldn't keep it in anymore and burst into sobs, "I was scared! I was really scared!" she clung onto him for a hug.

The Doctor, though startled by the outburst, hugged back. He felt this was probably something she used to do with Rory, and well...since he'd taken him away from her as well...she felt truly alone with no one to talk to. He hugged her back and let her cry all she needed to do in order to start overcoming those nightmares of hers and finally get some needed sleep.

"I'm sorry, Ava," he rubbed her back, "You should have told one of us. We would've helped."

"I didn't want to worry," Avalon tried to say through her sobs.

"Don't try to lie, I saw it, remember? You didn't want to talk about it because 'Avalon Reynolds does not get scared'," the Doctor sighed, "Everyone gets scared, Ava. It's natural, normal. But it stops being normal when you keep it bottled inside," he pulled away and made her look up at him, "Your fear found another way to express itself. Now it's harming you for real."

"Wh-What can I do? Please tell me, I can't take it anymore," she shook her head, "I'm tired. Every time I close my eyes I can feel them on my neck," she shivered and swatted her hands over her neck, "They're drinking and I scream over and over and-"

"Sh, sh, sh, it's okay," the Doctor said and pulled her hands from her neck, "It's very simple, actually."

"It is?"

"Yes," the Doctor nodded, "Just talk about it. Admit you were afraid. And I promise you, little by little, those pesky nightmares will fade away."

"I have to talk about it?" Avalon hesitated as she took her hands from his, "I...I can't. It's embarrassing," she mumbled.

The Doctor sighed, he should've guessed she'd feel like that, "Well, then...don't look at me," he offered, "I'll sit here," he moved to the other side of the bed, "And you lay down where you were," he admitted he was a bit surprise to actually see her obeying and taking her place back for sleep, "Okay, um, just...talk, tell me what happened. Tell me how you felt and I'll listen."

"Um..." she stared at the window across her spot, "...I was mad cos I was caught sneaking down to the chamber, the one where you'd be coming through. Then I saw Francesco, and I...I don't remember much," she paused as she thought, "...I slapped him. But I can't remember why I did it. I just know that I was really, really angry with him...cos he did something."

The Doctor knew that it had to be because of what Francesco had done to Lena. He could see Avalon angry as hell and slapping the man, triggering his instinct to fight back...and biting her.

"Then I was brought into another chamber and they...they strapped me down to this chair and...I met Rosanna, and we argued...and..." Avalon swallowed hard and shut her eyes.

The Doctor noticed her breathing picking up and gently put a hand on her arm, "It's okay," he whispered, "Deep breath," he instructed.

Avalon took a deep breath and waited a moment more before she felt enough to talk again, "They bit me...both of them, the Saturnynes, they...the fed on me like I was a dinner plate," she sniffled, "I can still feel their hands on my neck...pushing my hair away, and I just..." she quietly cried, her hands clutching the blanket underneath.

The Doctor didn't know how to help her at this point. Should he hug her? But it would be a bit awkward considering she was laying down. But he just didn't like hearing her cry and needed a way to stop her. He reached for a nearby blanket and draped it over Avalon, "I promise you nothing like that will ever happen to you again," he whispered, "And whenever you feel scared, please tell me, or even Amy. You don't have to pretend anymore."

Avalon looked back with red eyes and managed a small smile, "Thank you, Fairy Tale Man."

"I didn't really do much," the Doctor admitted, "Sort of acted like a psychologist."

"Well it's been long since I had a 'psychologist'," she chuckled lightly, "I don't...I don't really have anyone to talk to anymore..." she paused, the Doctor saw confusion spreading on her face the more silent she continued to be, "...I..I don't think I really had anyone to begin with," she mumbled, "My mum, Amy...Mels. But Mum died and then I...no one."

The Doctor found it difficult to look her in the eye and not feel guilty. On his watch he'd let Rory and Lena die, leaving Amy and Avalon alone.

"I was scared," Avalon took a breath and turned back to her side, "I admit it," she closed her eyes, "And it actually...feels better."

"Try getting some sleep," the Doctor offered, smiling when she pulled the blanket closer to her.

"God I really hope there's no more dreams tonight," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

"Dream yourself up a knight in shinning armor or something to keep the bad people away," the Doctor said and got a laugh from her, "Meanwhile, I'll be as quiet as possible for you."

Before he got up, Avalon reached back and took his hand, "Thank you," she whispered.

The Doctor smiled back, "You're welcome," he surprised her, and himself, by giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She blinked but nonetheless smiled, "Goodnight." She let his hand go and finally decided to try once more to sleep.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Craig stood outside the bathroom where he'd been waiting a decent amount of time for the Doctor to come. The Doctor was singing at the top of his lungs, making it just a bit hard to hear Craig's calls from the other side of the door.

Craig gave one particularly loud bang against the door. "Doctor!"

The Doctor stopped his singing for a moment and heard Craig's next call. "Hello?!"

"How long are you going to be in there?" Craig called, sighing.

"Oh, sorry, I like a good soak!"

Craig was about to tell him to hurry up when he'd heard a loud banging above, "What the hell was that?"

~ 0 ~

Inside the bathroom, the Doctor poked his head out from the curtain, "What did you say?"

~ 0 ~

"I'm just going to go upstairs, see if he's OK," Craig headed for the stairs.

~ 0 ~

"Sorry?" the Doctor called but received no answer, "What did you say?"

~ 0 ~

Craig was finishing coming up the stairs and went right ahead to knock on the door of the upstairs room. An elderly man opened up the door by a creak, "Yes? Hello?" he asked.

~ 0 ~

"Craig?" the Doctor called one again and decided to go check what was happening. He grabbed a towel as he got out of the shower but ended up slipping on the floor with a loud thud.

~ 0 ~

"It's me from downstairs. I heard a big bang," Craig was saying to the elder man.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor sat up on the bathroom floor and with soap in his eyes, "No choice...it's sonicking time," he reached out to grab his screwdriver placed in a toothbrush holder but ended up grabbing a toothbrush due to the soap in the eyes.

~ 0 ~

"Thank you, Craig, but I don't need your help," the elderly man closed the door on Craig.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor ran out the bathroom only for the towel wrapped around his waist to slip to the floor, "Oops!" he quickly picked it up and tied around himself again. He needed to get out there because he was sure Craig said something about going upstairs. He reached the stairs and aimed his 'screwdriver' up the stairs, "What happened, what's going on?"

"Is that my toothbrush?" Craig raised an eyebrow as he came down the stairs.

"Correct. You spoke to the man upstairs?" the Doctor stared up at the shut door.

"Yeah."

"What did he look like?"

"More normal than you do at the moment, mate," Craig smiled in amusement, "What are you doing?"

"What is going on!?" they heard Avalon's call as she emerged from her bedroom. She came round the staircase, rubbing her eyes and with a big yawn. "Between shouts and..." she yawned again.

"I thought Craig was in trouble," the Doctor winced. He'd tried keeping his word of being as quiet as possible while she slept. Throughout the rest of the night she slept peacefully while he worked on the makeshift device that would help them with the upstairs flatmate. When morning came by, Avalon wasn't giving any indication that she'd be waking up soon so the Doctor got himself out of there before he did something to wake her up.

"And you couldn't have gotten dressed to go and save him?" Avalon tried not to laugh when she'd finally opened her eyes and saw him with the towel and his hair in the worse state ever. She reached over to flick some of his wet hair off his forehead. "Might wanna go easier on the shampoo next time."

The Doctor swatted her hand away from him, making her laugh again. At least she seemed chipper than usual.

"And with my toothbrush," Craig pointed and headed off to answer a ringing phone in the living room.

"What's going on?" Avalon looked up at the stairs, "Did I miss an attack or something?"

"No, no...suppose not..." the Doctor frowned, "...you should go back to sleep."

"It's past noon," she smiled, "Plus, I want breakfast," she shrugged and moved for the living room when she saw the front door opening.

It was Sophie, coming in with another key. She walked in and lightly gasped when she saw the two, a bit more startled by the Doctor due to his lack of clothing, "Oh...Hello?"

Avalon sighed, "Avalon Reynolds," she waved and entered the living room, "I want breakfast."

She went straight into the kitchen and started raiding the fridge. Knowing men when they said they had nothing it really meant they only had healthy food and didn't actually eat it. She went through that with her father and brother. If there were things like apples and oranges for them there was 'nothing to eat'. She took out a plate and took out a celery stick with a bottle of ranch. Just like she'd guessed, there were things to eat.

"What are you doing?" she sighed when the Doctor came over to the fridge and took out a milk carton...to drink from it.

"The better question is what are you doing?" the Doctor moved to her side and grimaced at the celery.

"Breakfast," she snatched the carton from him and placed a glass in front of him.

"Past noon?"

"Shut up," she muttered, "I never sleep past noon. Barely sleep past six in the morning."

"Well I wasn't going to wake you. It looked like you were finally getting well-deserved sleep."

"I did, actually," she smiled as she took a piece of celery and bit into it, "For the first time..."

"Followed my advice, then," he nudged her, turning her smile into confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Dreamed up some sort of savior," he reached for one of her celery sticks.

Avalon started coughed unexpectedly for a second as she gave a small smile, "Yeah, actually...I did," she quickly turned away, "...and it helped."

"Let me guess, Prince Charming?" the Doctor smirked as he bit into the celery, quickly spitting it back out into the sink, "Bad, very bad," he mumbled.

"Um, yeah, yeah...Prince Charming," Avalon rubbed the side of her neck, "Knight in Shining Armor," she cleared her throat and looked at him with a smile, "Thanks. For real. I'm not used to this kind of treatment."

"Kind of treatment?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, "Do you mean you're not used to people treating you kindly? ...cos you're not a 'nice person'?"

Avalon looked at him, "Where did you hear that?"

"Look, I'm going to be honest here..." he looked back at Craig and Sophie, making sure they weren't listening. They seemed to be having a conversation while Craig held the phone, "...I heard what you said to Vincent," he spoke quietly to Avalon.

"You eavesdropped?" Avalon blinked.

"I didn't mean to, but...the voices sort of carried out and I...I heard," the Doctor winced as if he could already feel one of her slaps that were sure to come his way. But instead, Avalon stepped back her head turning to the side as if she were avoiding his look, "Ava, I'm sorry, I...I know how reserved you are with your things," the Doctor sighed, "I promise I won't say anything."

Avalon scoffed quietly, "Oh please, it's nothing no one's new to. At least now you know who you brought into your home," he opened his mouth to remark on his confusion but she continued without noticing, "I don't need the pity, I get that from Amy at times. Mels is...well...she's the only one that doesn't really care, actually."

"Hold on, I'm not telling you this because I pity you," the Doctor frowned, "I'm telling you this because I'm sorry for what you've been through."

"Isn't that the same?"

"No, it's not. I'm, frankly irritated and upset you've been treated like that for so long," he stepped up to her, "And, I share some of those feelings."

"What? They did that to you too?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Have you met me?" he challenged and she chuckled, "On my home planet, Gallifrey, things were strict. There were rules and laws and I...sort of didn't follow them. Everyone knew who I was, I had an infamous legacy..." he laughed bitterly, "...the infamous child, actually."

"You understand," Avalon realized.

"Of course I do," he nodded.

"But you weren't a criminal like me..."

"Actually," he didn't want to bring up the manner in which he'd ended a war she didn't even know about yet. but perhaps he could mention briefly the object that he used, "...I stole something from my people, and I used it for something bad."

"You don't look like a criminal," she remarked, making him smile.

"I could say the same to you," he shrugged, "But the thing is Avalon, the thing I want you to get from all this is that I try to have my hope, to be happy and to have some friends. I'd like for you to try that too."

"I do have friends," she said quietly, "And I am happy..."

"You've known Amy all your life and yet she doesn't even know what your favorite color is, what you want to be in life...you never talk about yourself," he sighed, "I don't even know you that well. And I'm not that big of an idiot to miss the fact that you're not truly happy."

"Why do you insist so much on this?" Avalon had to ask as she thought of the many times he'd talk to her like this, about things that she didn't even talk to Amy about, "We have a pending alien flatmate to deal with and your wasting your time with a hopeless case?"

"Because it's not hopeless and I clearly care for you," the Doctor casually shrugged.

"You care for me this much?" Avalon whispered.

"Yes," he answered slowly so she would get it through her head, "With your violent ways, your sarcasm, preppiness-"

"I'm not preppy," she crossed her arms.

"Have you seen what you're wearing?"

Avalon opened her mouth but then looked down at her clothes. She wore a buttoned up, pink and white vertically-striped blouse with a high-collared, yoke-styled neckline. It had ruffles around the sleeveless hemlines on each arm. She wore dark blue jeans and brown leather boots with small heels. "Okay so maybe I'm a little preppy..." Avalon reconsidered with a sigh.

The Doctor laughed, "And that's just fine."

"You are one weird alien," she whispered, "But a very helpful one."

"Oh, I've moved up ranks," the Doctor joked and got a laugh from her.

"Don't get too cocky on that, just because you helped one insomniac sleep for the first time doesn't mean anything...ish,"

"Oi?" they heard Craig call, "The game is in an hour, remember Doctor?"

Avalon sent an odd look at the Doctor. "What game is he talking about?"

"Did I forget to mention?" he beamed, "I'm playing football!"

"Oh no..." she whispered and stepped back.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," Craig said and looked over at the pair again, "Doctor, like I said, the spare kit's in the bottom drawer."

"Right," the Doctor nodded, "Best get dressed now."

"Yeah, I'll see you in a bit too," Craig said goodbye to Sophie and hurriedly went for a shower.

Sophie looked around a bit awkwardly as she noticed Avalon silently eating in the kitchen. Avalon then turned to her holding the plate she was eating from, "Celery, Sophie?"

"Um, no thanks," Sophie shook her head.

"So, you don't play or anything?" Avalon walked into the living room and sat down on the couch chair.

"Nah, I just watch," Sophie sat down on the large couch.

"Well, it's not half bad of a date," Avalon smirked as Sophie gasped with a flushed face.

"It's...it's not a date," she quickly shook her head, "Craig and I, we're not..."

"I never said you and Craig," Avalon's smirk widened as Sophie blushed even deeper.

"Oh! U-um, well...um...I, uh..." Sophie looked around in plain embarrassment as she tried figuring out what to say.

"You know," Avalon went on like nothing happened, "People who aren't dating don't usually have two sets of keys to a 'friend's house but yet yours are in your purse," she pointed to Sophie's purse on her lap, "And then Craig had those over there," she then pointed to the table near the threshold, "It's also yours, which he's been holding by the way."

"What's the point of this?" Sophie asked, confused.

Avalon shrugged with a smile, "Nothing, I just guess you must really like it here."

"Um, yeah..."

"It's not bad," Avalon said, "I gotta say back in my house with my dad and brother, they're total slobs at time. If I don't do a regular clean up," she did a whistle, "They are lucky to have me."

"You still go back and clean for them?" Sophie wondered.

"Oh no, they don't even know I'm gone," Avalon shrugged, forgetting for the moment that while for her it was still the night she'd gone off with the Doctor and Amy, for Sophie it looked more like a runaway.

"Don't you think you should've mentioned to your father you decided to go and live with your boyfriend?"

Avalon nearly choked on her celery stick, "Seriously, we're not," she looked at Sophie, "Just friends."

"So you ran away with your 'friend'?" Sophie raised an eyebrow.

"We didn't run away!" Avalon exclaimed and finally scarfed down the rest of her celery stick, "I didn't run away!"

"Then why are you here...?" Sophie asked. She wasn't trying to be rude but it was confusing and a bit odd for two friends to go and rent a room when the logical thing would've been to rent out an entire flat and simply be flatmates like Craig had done with Mark, the anterior flatmate.

"Because we're..." Avalon looked at the ceiling with the spreading stain, "...we're um...you know what, conversation over," she sweetly smiled and stood up, placing the finished plate of celery on the table, "I'm gonna go help my...friend, out," she hurried out of the room.

That conversation probably could've gone better.

~ 0 ~

"No it's not the one with the sticks," Avalon muttered to the Doctor as they followed Craig and Sophie through the park towards the field.

All the way there the Doctor had tried narrowing down what kind of game football was and so he had burdened Avalon with all the questions he could think of. While it had been amusing in the beginning for Avalon, she was beginning to grow tired of answering questions that were clearly not relevant to the sport...especially when the Doctor held the football in his hands.

One of Craig's teammates, Sean, came over to greet them as soon the group had arrived, "All right, Craig. Soph. All right, mate."

"Hello, I'm Craig's new flatmate," the Doctor shook his hand and gave another Gallic kiss, making Avalon sigh as she'd spoken to him about that habit, "I'm called the Doctor. Oh, and that's Avalon," Avalon gave a nod for a greeting.

"All right, I'm Sean," he smiled, "Where are you strongest?"

"Arms," the Doctor said.

Avalon shook her head, "He meant what position, genius," she mumbled to him.

"Oh, not sure," he shrugged, "The front? The side? Below?"

"Are you any good though?" Sean raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor spun the ball on his fingers and grinned, "Let's find out," he kicked the ball into the field and ran to catch it.

"It'll be a real lottery," Avalon warned and moved to go sit on a nearby bench.

"You don't play either?" Sophie came to sit beside her.

"Um, no...not really," Avalon shook her head and sighed, "As a kid I, um, I actually liked sports but you know how it is. 'Girls don't play sports' and all, never really got to do it."

"I like watching," Sophie admitted and looked out to the field.

"Could only guess why," Avalon mumbled and caught the woman blushing again.

"Has anyone told you you're a bit bold?"

"The cops," Avalon shrugged, "My dad...lots of people," she concluded and got a laugh, "Makes it a bit harder to make some friends, though."

"Ava!" she heard the Doctor calling as he ran towards her, "Apparently, you don't play with this." He held out his tweed jacket to her.

"You don't say," Avalon sarcastically gasped and took the jacket from him.

"You could've said something," the Doctor huffed at her sarcasm.

"I did," she reminded, growing serious, "But I do recall you saying 'it's cool'."

"It is!"

Avalon rolled her eyes, "Oh go out and play. And please try not to hurt yourself or the other players." The Doctor beamed and ran off.

"Why did you tell him that?" Sophie wondered, "Isn't he good?"

Avalon opened her mouth but let out a nervous laugh and looked at the field, "Oh look, the game's starting," she pointed, "Let's watch."

Sophie thought the ginger was acting weirder than was the normal but agreed and turned to watch the game begin. As the game progressed the Doctor began to show some genuine skills that helped score some goals for Craig's team. As little as she knew about the sport, Avalon found herself actually getting more into the game along with the onlookers. Together, they cheered for the Craig's team, but more specifically the Doctor who scored the winning goal, and most of the others goals. At the end of the game, Sophie went to congratulate Craig on the team;s win, though the more Avalon looked at the man the more she thought Craig looked upset for some reason.

"Ava!" Avalon heard the Doctor call to her. She barely had time to react when she was taken into a great, big hug. "We won! I won! Did you see that!?" the Doctor spun her around like crazy.

"Wow! Yes, I did! Gotta say, I'm surprised." Avalon laughed as she was set down, actually feeling a blush for his surprise hug, unbeknownst to her the Doctor was also in the same predicament. He'd just been so happy that he'd won and since all the other team members went to hug their friends, he thought he should do the same.

"Ha! Another win! Impressed yet?" he flashed her a smirk that made her roll her eyes.

"You wish! You just had a lucky streak, that's all," she chuckled when his face went flat. "Oh c'mon, just kidding. Congrats! You did win!" She gave him another hug, completely ignoring his sweaty state - she'd let it slide this time. She actually thought he played a good game for somebody who had no idea how to play the game.

The Doctor was always happy to get a hug from Avalon. She always smelled so nice, so floral and...nice.

"Hey!" Sean called to the pair, breaking them apart. "You two just gonna stay there or come join us?"

Avalon quickly untangled herself from the Doctor's arms and pulled them towards the rest of the team. Since neither of them looked at each other, they didn't notice the same blushes they sported on their faces.

"You are so on the team!" Sean immediately said to the Doctor after giving them their drinks. "Next week we've got the Crown and Anchor, we'll annihilate them!"

The Doctor took the words quite literally and moved up to Sean, "No violence, not while I'm around, not today, not ever. I'm the Doctor, the oncoming storm-"

Avalon yanked him back and laughed nervously, urgently motioning him to shut up. "He's just joking," she said to the group and shot a look at the Doctor, "He meant you were totally going to win the next game."

"Oh..." the Doctor blinked and looked back to Sean, the man was overly puzzled with his reaction. "Lovely, what sort of time?"

At that moment, Craig had opened up a can that spilled over, making everyone laugh. However, the action started to repeat itself over and over as a time loop.

Quickly, the Doctor took Avalon away from them and activated the earpieces, "Amy?" he called.

Avalon activated her earpiece in time to hear Amy's scream, 'It's happening again! Worse!'

"What does the scanner say?" the Doctor urgently asked.

"A lot of nines. Is it good that they're nines? Tell me it's good that they're all nines!"

Avalon studied the face the Doctor had and sighed, "Not good, is it?" she asked him.

"No, no, it's...it's good," he tried to say to her and Amy, "Just um, the zigzag plotter, zigzag plotter, Amy," they heard another scream, "Amy? Are you there?"

"Yes, hello," she finally called, the TARDIS seeming a bit better now.

"Ah, thank heavens. I thought the TARDIS had been flung off into the vortex with you inside it, lost forever."

"You mean that could actually happen!?" Avalon blinked with wide eyes, "That's the sort of things you need to mention!" she whacked his arm.

"You have got to get me out of here!" Amy exclaimed.

"How are the numbers?" the Doctor made her focus on that again, not able to handle two alarmed gingers.

"All fives."

"Fives?" the Doctor looked back at the human group to see them acting normally, "Even better. Still, it means the effect's almost unbelievably powerful and dangerous, but don't worry. Hang on, OK? I've got some rewiring to do."

"Hey! You...'hang on'!"

Avalon scoffed, "Great comeback, Amy."

"Oh...shut up!"

Avalon shook her head and followed the Doctor back to Craig's flat.

~ 0 ~

The travelers were lucky that no more time loops happened for the rest of the day. The Doctor set back to work on whatever he was building and since Avalon had zero clue what he was doing, she decided that the best thing she could do for him was to stay out of his way. Today was the first day in a very long time that she was wide awake and she wanted to take advantage of it.

She went out and did a bit of exploring without making herself known. She visited a few shops, bought nothing though since the TARDIS' wardrobe pretty much beat everything they had, and then headed for the local food shops. Since the flat basically had no food, and she couldn't eat healthy forever, she went in for some groceries.

She returned to the flat by evening and had found Craig and the Doctor conversing something in the foyer. The first thing she noticed - because how could she not notice - the great big orange cone the Doctor was holding. A street cone. He literally went out and got a street cone.

"Oh dear Lord," she muttered as she wobbled her way towards them with the grocery bags in her hands.

"Need some help?" Craig offered his hands to which Avalon was very grateful. He definitely seemed in a better mood than he was earlier at the game.

"Thanks," Avalon pushed her purse's strap back over her shoulder and gave the Doctor a look for his chosen cone. "What were you talking about? Didn't get into trouble did you?"

"Oh nothing, I was just telling Craig he shouldn't mind us. Won't even know we're here."

"Right," Avalon nodded then let her eyes linger over the cone. "Doctor, why the hell do you have a street cone? Most guys bring beer or, I don't know, something that's not street cones!"

"Why would I want beer of all things? That smells disgusting," the Doctor scrunched his face, even shuddering as if he was smelling it right now.

"It's actually pretty good. Craig, I'll put the stuff away!" Avalon turned for the living room but before she could even step inside, Craig hollered that he got it and that she and the Doctor could go off.

"Go off where?" Avalon barely asked when the Doctor yanked her for their room.

The Doctor quickly opened the door for Avalon and pulled her inside before Craig could see what laid inside. Avalon was stunned to see the bed covered with a spinning machine-type-wheel.

"Isn't it a beauty!?" the Doctor gestured quite proudly to his creation.

"It's a machine," Avalon said and hushed him, "You may want to speak quieter before Craig or the flatmate upstairs hears you."

The Doctor merely shrugged and returned to work. Apparently, he wasn't done yet. "So, where did you go? Besides the grocery store apparently."

"Places," Avalon moved towards the couch chair, genuinely smiling as she let herself fall onto it. "Today's the first day that I'm actually awake so I celebrated by going to the shops and the park again. I busied myself with more writing." She pulled her journal out of her bag and gave it a sigh that distinctly sounded sad.

The Doctor stopped working to shoot her a suspicious look. "You don't seem too happy about it. And I do believe we talked about that."

"It's not that I'm unhappy, it's just..." she shook her head, "...it's nothing."

"No, c'mon, tell me," he glanced at her with an encouraging nod.

Avalon closed her journal and stared at the cover, "My mum gave me this journal for my fifteenth birthday," she swallowed hard, "Also known as the year she died. So...this is kinda the last thing I have from her," the Doctor stopped working and turned to her as he sensed the importance of her words, "I've been writing in thing for six years and...I've used up all the pages now," she looked up with a sad smile, "I've got no where else to write anymore."

"Um...it's called buying another journal," the Doctor said, feeling like now she was missing the obvious and she rarely did that.

"Doctor, were you not listening? My mother gave me this journal," Avalon clutched the journal to her chest, "I wanted to be a writer, still do, actually," she whispered, "She gave me the journal so that I could start practicing."

"But after her death it turned more into sentimental value for you," the Doctor started to understand.

"It's silly, I know, but...to buy another journal is like replacing my mother and I don't want to do that," she smiled sadly, "I don't want to start a new journal anymore because then I'd have to stop carrying this one," she waved her journal, "And that would be like that forgetting about my mum."

"So you're just going to stop the writing?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, "I guess...I just can't let go of these pages...pictures..." she opened up the front cover and turned it around fo him to see, "See? My mum wrote me a letter and put a picture of us together, I can't buy a new one."

The Doctor smiled as he saw the teenage version of Avalon with her mother, "I understand," he nodded, "But hey," he beamed, confusing Avalon for a second.

"What?"

"I just learned something about you," he gestured, "And I mean something that not even Amy knows about."

"What?"

He laughed at her genuine confusion, "You want to be a writer!"

"Oh," she looked to the side, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing!" the Doctor exclaimed, "I'm just happy to know something about you that you've told no one else."

She playfully rolled her eyes, "Oh don't make such a big deal about it. And get back to work," she pointed back to the device he'd left alone.

"Yes, ma'am," he pretended to salute. She laughed and leaned back on the chair, opening her journal to reread some of the pages. The Doctor looked at her for a minute and softly smiled, she actually looked genuinely happy. That was a version of her he hadn't seen just yet so it was more than special for him.

~ 0 ~

"Hello," the Doctor poked his head up from behind the couch where Craig and Sophie sat on.

"What?" Craig blinked at the sight of the man.

"Whoops, sorry, don't worry, I wasn't listening, in a world of my own down there," the Doctor quickly said and winced when he heard Avalon shout his name.

"I thought we were over this," she entered the living room, noticing Sophie and Craig, "Sorry, sorry, he's a bit of an idiot when it comes to tools and he thinks I was lying," she looked at the Doctor, "Which I am not!"

"I thought you were going out!" Craig said to both of them, Avalon sensing an irritation in his tone.

"Why would we go out?" she crossed her arms.

"Because I told him we needed...space," Craig answered quietly.

"This is the first time I hear any such statements," Avalon shrugged and walked up to pull the Doctor up to his feet, snatching the screwdriver from his hand, "This-" she held it up to him, "-is a regular screwdriver. No buttons, no nothing. Have you finally gotten it?"

"What's going on?" Sophie looked between the two, finding a bit irrelevant to be talking over a screwdriver.

"They're really on their way out," Craig tried to say.

"No, I don't mind, if you don't mind," Sophie cut in, smiling at the pair unlike Craig.

"I don't mind, why would I mind?"

"Then stay, have a drink with us," Sophie gestured for the pair to move over and take a seat.

"What, do I have to stay now?" the Doctor looked at Avalon who just sighed.

"Do you want to stay?" she countered.

"I don't mind," he shrugged, completely oblivious to the fact he'd ruined a moment between Sophie and Craig.

"Okay then," Sophie once again gestured for them to move over.

"Great," Craig muttered.

Later on would find the Doctor sitting in the couch chair, still with the wires wrapped around his neck. Avalon had brought a chair from the kitchen and placed it across the couch as she didn't want to intrude even more on poor Craig's night. They'd started to talk and while the Doctor continued working on the wires, Sophie had taken to talking about them of the routine of life and slowly getting more and more upset about it.

"Cos life can seem pointless," she went on, "Work, weekend, work, weekend. And there's six billion people on the planet doing pretty much the same."

"Six billion people? Watching you two at work," the Doctor gave them a small look, "I'm starting to wonder where they all come from."

"What? What do you mean by that?" Sophie became alarmed.

"So that call center," Avalon cut in before the Doctor said something else he shouldn't, "You don't think that's good enough?" Sophie gave a small shrug, "What do you really want to do?"

"Don't laugh. I only ever told Craig about it. I want to work looking after animals. Maybe abroad? I saw this orangutan sanctuary on telly."

"And what's stopping you?"

"She can't, you need loads of qualifications," Craig finally looked down from the ceiling he'd been staring at ever since Avalon and the Doctor had stayed.

"Yeah, true. Plus it's scary, everyone I know lives round here," Sophie gave another shrug, "Craig got offered a job in London, better money, didn't take it."

"What's wrong with staying here? I can't see the point of London," Craig shook his head.

"Well, perhaps that's you, then. Perhaps you'll just have to stay here, secure and a little bit miserable until the day you drop," the Doctor suddenly said, getting the eyes of everyone of horror, "Better than trying and failing, eh?"

"You think I'd fail?" Sophie softly asked, sounding so disappointed it almost made Avalon smack the Doctor for it.

"Everybody's got dreams, Sophie, very few are going to achieve them, so why pretend?" the Doctor grabbed a wine glass he'd been given and took a sip. Although once he tasted it he spat it out quickly into the glass and set it back down, "Perhaps, in the whole universe, a call center is where you should be?"

"Why are you saying that? That's horrible!" Sophie gasped.

"Is it true?"

"Of course it's not true. I'm not staying in a call center all my life, I can do anything I want!" the Doctor stayed silent and only smiled, making Sophie realize she'd been tricked, "Oh! Yeah! Right!" Sophie fist-bumped the Doctor and chuckled, "Oh my God," she glanced at Craig, "Did you see what he just did?"

"No, what's happening?" Craig, heavily alarmed, looked between her and the Doctor, "Are you going to live with monkeys now?"

"You're good," Avalon complemented the Doctor, feeling a bit guilty she'd actually thought he meant every word he said to Sophie.

"It's a big old world, Sophie," the Doctor said to her after giving a wink to Avalon, "Work out what's really keeping you here, eh?"

"I don't know. Dunno..." Sophie mumbled and discreetly glanced at Craig.

~ 0 ~

"And you're sure this is going to work?" Avalon stared at the finished device on the bed, now spinning endlessly.

The Doctor stood beside her with overbearing excitement, "Shield's up! Let's scan!" he announced.

"What are you getting?" Amy asked both of them through the earpieces.

"Upstairs," the Doctor looked at a converted digital clock, "No traces of high technology. Totally normal. No no, no, no, it can't be! It's too normal."

"Only for you could too normal be a problem," Avalon scoffed.

"You said I could be lost forever. Just go upstairs," Amy ordered him.

"Without knowing, get myself killed, then you really are lost," the Doctor informed, "If I could just get a look in there... Hold on," he stopped the device from spinning, "Use the data bank, get me the plans of this building - its history, the layout, everything. Meanwhile, I shall recruit a spy," he de-activated the earpieces.

"And when you say 'spy', what exactly do you mean...?" Avalon crossed her arms.

"How do you feel about animals?" he turned to her with a grin.

"Oh no," Avalon dreaded it as she was pulled out of the room towards God knew where.

~ 0 ~

Avalon was pouring more ranch onto her plate when the Doctor suddenly ran into the kitchen holding the tea pot she'd given him for the breakfast they'd prepared for Craig.

"What are you doing?" she grimaced as he stuffed more tea bags into the pot.

"Craig was oh-so-smart to touch the stain!" the Doctor exclaimed as he ran around the kitchen, even taking her celery stick to drop it into the pot.

"Oi! That was mine!" she frowned.

"Going to reverse the poison, bye!" he dashed out.

"Poison?" Avalon ran after him and came into Craig's room where the man laid on his bed, barely conscious and with an odd streak running on his arm, "What happened to him?"

"He touched the stain," the Doctor sighed.

"What, so he's been poisoned?'

"Yes, hence the tea pot," the Doctor gestured to the pot he held.

"I can heal him," Avalon moved up to the bed.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Doctor frowned.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm from New Earth, remember? My family line descends from the livestock you saved, the same one that carries antibodies in their immune system," she smiled and held her hand to her mouth, gently blowing on her palm. The Doctor watched in awe as small little particles emerged from her mouth. Avalon gave him one more smile before pressing her hand on Craig's arm.

"Is that how that works?" the Doctor mused as he watched the glowing particles take over the streak of the human's arm, "Never seen it in action."

Avalon looked up, "It's through contact of the skin. It can be hands, feet, lips, etc. Though most people prefer the hands," she waved her free hand, "Unless your married."

"That's amazing," the Doctor remarked as he set down the no longer needed pot on the bed stand.

"I've got to go to work," Craig hoarsely tried to say.

"On no account. You need rest," the Doctor pointed.

"It's the planning meeting, it's important."

"You're important. You're going to be fine, Craig," Avalon hushed, "I'm bit rusty on this so it'll take some hours before he'll actually feel better. But the antigens should start taking over again."

The Doctor nodded and led her out of the room.

"Poor Craig, we haven't been making his life easier," Avalon crossed her arms, "Don't you think we should call in to his work so they'll excuse him?"

"Nah, I'll just fill in for him!"

Avalon's eyes widened, "Um...let's not...do that...no..."

"Why not?" he frowned, "I'll be great!" and headed for the doors.

"No! Stop!" she ran after him.

"It'll be fine," he assured.

"It really won't!"

"It will!"

Avalon sighed, "I guess I'll have to go with you or you might get Craig fired," so she followed the Doctor out to the call center where Craig worked.

~ 0 ~

And just as Avalon suspected, things had taken a rather bad turn...for Craig. She was actually surprised to see the Doctor doing well at a human job. He'd managed to do the planning meeting for Craig and get his ideas approved. Even the boss seemed to like the Doctor as he was placed in Craig's seat to manage some customers who were quite rude. Despite barely knowing anything of the job, the Doctor managed to get even more customers for the company which only made the boss like him even more. It was going fine until Craig had come in thinking he'd missed the meeting. Avalon felt guilty the way the poor man was sent back home to 'rest' and especially after he'd blatantly ignored Sophie's request of advice. She'd spoken to Avalon earlier in the day when they first arrived at the center, telling Avalon about a wildlife charity she'd applied for. Though Sophie felt nervous about leaving and so Avalon had advised her to talk to Craig about it, hoping she could give them back the moment she and the Doctor had taken from them last night. But Craig was too upset to notice what Sophie was saying and had accidentally told her to go ahead and do it.

Avalon had never found herself in such chaos.

She'd talked to the Doctor about it on the way back to Craig's flat, trying to make him see that they were actually ruining Craig's life in literal terms. But the Doctor, being himself, didn't catch it.

They returned back to the flat where the cat they'd brought in last night was just coming down the stairs.

"Have you been upstairs?" the Doctor immediately questioned it.

"You speak 'cat'?" Avalon crossed her arms and laughed when he mimicked a meow as a response to the cat.

"You can do it. Show me what's up there? What's behind that door?" he ignored her and continued talking to the cat, "Try to show me. Ohh, that doesn't make sense! Ever see anyone go up there? Lots of people? Good good. What kind of people? People who never come back down. That's very bad."

Craig opened the door for the living room and stalked towards the Doctor, "I can't take this any more. I want you to go!" he returned into the living room and gave back the bag of money Avalon had given him as rent, "You can have this back an' all."

"What have I done?" the Doctor frowned.

"I told you," Avalon mumbled.

"For a start, talking to a cat," Craig pointed.

"Lots of people talk to cats," the Doctor shrugged and handed the money back to Avalon.

"Everybody loves you, you're better at football than me, and my job, and now Sophie's all "Oh, monkeys, monkeys-"

"Woah, hey, that one was all your fault!" Avalon cut in, "You ignored Sophie when she tried talking to you about it," she crossed her arms, "That one's not the Doctor's fault."

Craig frowned and moved to their bedroom, "Yeah, well, this is his fault!" he opened the door and pointed to the device on the bed, "What the hell is that!?"

The Doctor ran over to the device while Avalon quickly shut the door behind them, "It's art! A statement on modern society," the Doctor exclaimed, ""Ooh, ain't modern society awful?" he stopped the device from spinning.

"Me and you two, it's not gonna work out," Craig declared, "You've been here three days, the three weirdest days of my life."

"Your days will get a lot weirder if we go!"

"I thought it was good weird, but it's not, it's bad weird! I can't do this any more!"

"I can't leave this place," the Doctor stalked up to him, "I'm like you, I can't see the point of anywhere else. Madrid, hah, what a dump! I have to stay."

"No, you don't, you have to leave!"

"I can't go!"

"Arguing isn't going to help," Avalon could not believe she just said that. She, the one with the biggest, baddest temper had just said that! What was going on!?

"Right," the Doctor agreed with Avalon and looked at Craig, grimacing as he thought of the oncoming pain, "I'm going to show you something, but ssh, really, ssh! Oh, I am going to regret this. OK, right... First, general background!"

Avalon jumped when the Doctor head-butted Craig, actually hearing the big smacks. However, Craig immediately saw the Doctor's set of past incarnations and his actual identity.

"You're a..." Craig pointed at him.

"Yes," the Doctor groaned as he rubbed his forehead.

"From..." Craig pointed up.

"Sh!"

"You've got a TARDIS!"

"Yes. Ssh!" the Doctor pointed at his face, "Eleventh! Right... OK, specific detail!" he head-butted once more and showed Craig the reasons why he and Avalon were in the flat.

"You saw my ad in the paper shop window," Craig gasped.

"Yes, with this right above it," the Doctor pulled out a note signed by Amy they'd found in the shop of the advert, "Which is odd, because Amy hasn't written it yet. Time travel, it can happen."

"That's a scanner! You used non-technological technology of Lammasteen," Craig moved up to the spinning device.

"You're both so mad," Avalon concluded after the spectacle she just saw.

"Shush," the Doctor pointed at her, making her roll her eyes.

"How's the forehead?" she smirked.

"Never doing that again!" he declared and turned on the earpiece, "Amy!"

"That's Amy Pond!" Craig turned to them.

"Oh, someone's happy they caught up," Avalon smiled.

"Got those plans yet?" the Doctor was asking Amy.

"Still searching for them!"

"I've worked it out with psychic help from a cat."

"Cat?"

"Yes, Amy, he talks to cats now," Avalon shook her head.

"I know he's got a time engine in the flat upstairs," the Doctor cut in before they mocked as was expected, "He's using innocent people to try and launch it. Whenever he does, they get burnt up, hence the stain..."

"From the ceiling?" Craig grimaced.

"Well done, Craig," the Doctor glanced back, "And you, Miss Pond, nearly get thrown off into the Vortex."

"Lovely!" Amy sighed.

They heard a loud crash from above and they could only guess what was going on.

"People are dying up there?" Craig said...only to keep repeating it, "People are dying. People are dying."

"Amy!" the Doctor called as the ginger screamed over the communicator.

"They're being killed!" Craig came out of the time loop.

"Someone's up there so we need to go!" Avalon rushed out of the room with the two following behind.

As they headed up the stairs, Craig stopped and looked at the opened front door to see Sophie's keys in the lock. Avalon and the Doctor noticed them too and ran faster up the stairs.

"It's Sophie. It's Sophie that's dying up there, it's Sophie!" Craig cried and followed them up.

"Doctor! Avalon! Stop!" Amy shouted to them as they arrived at the door of the upstairs flat.

"What is it, Amy?" Avalon asked.

"Are you upstairs?"

"Just going in," the Doctor said.

"But you can't be upstairs!"

"Amy, what the hell are you talking about?" Avalon frowned.

"I've got the plans, you cannot be upstairs, it's a one-storey building. There is no upstairs!"

"Oh..." Avalon and the two men looked down the stairs with nervousness.

Quickly, the Doctor used the screwdriver to entered the 'flat' and came face to face with spaceship room instead, a control panel in the center.

"What?" Craig looked around, dumbfounded.

"What is this?" Avalon stepped further inside.

"The time engine isn't IN the flat, the time engine IS the flat!" the Doctor blinked with surprise, "Someone's attempt to build a TARDIS."

"No, there's always been an upstairs," Craig looked at them surely.

"Has there?" the Doctor challenged, "Think about it!"

"Yes. No. I don't..."

"A perception filter, right?" Avalon turned to the Doctor, "I learned about those, very tricky to spot...cos they can't be spotted. It tricks your memory, like the Angels did."

"Sophie emerged from the other side of the room, screaming as she was forced to walk towards the control panel by energy tendrils.

"Sophie!" Craig shouted and ran towards the woman, the Doctor and Avalon rushing to help.

"Sophie! Oh, my God, Sophie!" Craig grabbed Sophie's hand to keep it from touching a glowing large button on the panel.

"Craig! It's controlling her. It's willing her to touch the activator," the Doctor concluded as he checked the panel with the screwdriver.

"Solutions would be really helpful, then!" Avalon exclaimed.

"Ah! Deadlock seal!" the Doctor stopped with the sonic, meanwhile Sophie's hand had now reached the large button.

"You've got to do something!" Craig said just as Sophie was set free from the panel.

"Wait, why's it let her go?" Avalon blinked, confused, "All that trouble to set her free?"

The Doctor agreed with her and started to look around, grimacing at a dried up skeleton in a corner of the room. He walked to the other side of the panel when suddenly a hologram of a man appeared behind him.

"You will help me," it announced.

The Doctor turned to face the hologram, "Right! Stop! Crashed ship, let's see. Hello, I'm Captain Troy Handsome of International Rescue. Please state the nature of your emergency."

"Really?" Avalon crossed her arms, rolling her eyes at the fake title he'd given himself.

"Sh!" he waved her off as the hologram responded his request.

"The ship has crashed. The crew are dead. A pilot is required."

"You're the emergency crash program. A hologram. You've been luring people up here so you can try them out," the Doctor used the sscrewdriver on the hologram and watched it go through a series of appearance changes.

"You will help me, you will help me, you will help me."

"Craig!" Sophie exclaimed weakly, "Where am I?"

"Hush! Human brains aren't strong enough, they just burn," the Doctor said to the hologram, "You're stupid, aren't you? You just keep trying."

"17 people have been tried. 6,000,400,026 remain."

Sophie stood up now with a bit of irritation, "Seriously, what is going on?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," the Doctor shook his head, "The top floor of Craig's building is in reality an alien space ship intent on slaughtering the population of this planet."

"In other words now, be quiet!" Avalon shush es the woman.

"The correct pilot has now been found," the hologram said.

The Doctor stiffened, "Yes, I was worried you'd say that."

"He means you, Doctor, doesn't he?" Amy said through the earpiece.

"Why am I not surprised?" Avalon sighed but flinched when the energy tendrils pulled the Doctor towards the panel.

"The correct pilot has been found. The correct pilot has been found."

"What's happening?" Amy cried.

"It's pulling me in! I'm the new pilot!" the Doctor struggled to stay away from the panel.

"Could you do it?" Avalon rushed over to him, "Could you fly the ship safely?"

"No, I'm way too much for this ship. My hand touches that panel, the planet doesn't blow up, the whole solar system does."

"Figures," Avalon sighed and started helping him by pulling with him.

"The correct pilot has been found," the hologram continuously said.

"No...worst choice ever, I promise you," the Doctor looked up, "Stop this!"

"Doctor!" Amy shouted, "It's getting worse."

"It doesn't want everyone," Avalon pointed out and so the Doctor immediately looked at Craig.

"Craig, it didn't want you!" he remembered.

"I spoke to him and he said I couldn't help him," Craig shrugged.

"And it also never wanted Sophie before," Avalon thought, "I don't understand, what's changed?"

"I gave her the idea of leaving!" the Doctor realized the problem, "It's a machine that needs to leave, it wants people who want to escape! And you don't want to leave, Craig, you're Mr Sofa Man. Craig, you can shut down the engine. Put your hand on the panel and concentrate on why you want to stay!"

"Craig, no!" Sophie quickly shook her head.

"Will it work?" Craig looked at the button in doubt.

"Yes!" the Doctor nodded through his pain.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"...Is that a lie?"

"Of course, it's a lie!"

Craig shrugged, "It's good enough for me. Geronimo!" he slammed his hand on to the button and immediately screamed with pain.

The Doctor was set free and ran to Craig's side,Craig, what's keeping you here? Think about everything that makes you want to stay here!" he gave Craig a small slap to get him to focus away from thr pain, "Why don't you want to leave?"

"Sophie! And I don't want to leave Sophie! I can't leave Sophie! I love Sophie!"

Sophie's half widened, "I love you, too, Craig, you idiot!" she slammed her hand over his on the panel. The ship began smoking and sparking upon the second hand's touch.

"Honestly, do you mean that?" Craig blinked at Sophie.

"Of course I mean it! Do you mean it?"

"I've always meant it. Seriously though, do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"But what about the monkeys?"

"Oh my God," Avalon pressed a hand to her forehead, "Don't turn this into something annoying!"

"Craig, the planet's about to burn! For God's sake, kiss the girl!" the Doctor had to agree Avalon, even Amy shouting the same thing through the earpiece.

Craig and Sophie kissed and were able to take their hands off the panel. Even the TARDIS was able to calm and finally materialization, leaving a very relieved Amy to call to her friends, "Doctor! Avalon! You've done it. Aha, you've done it! Oh, now the screen's just zeros! Now it's minus ones, minus twos, minus threes...Big yes!"

But the hologram in the ship started changing appearances again, its voice becoming high pitched as it shorted out.

"Big no," the Doctor stepped back towards the doors, pulling Avalon with him.

"Did we switch it off?" Craig questioned, noticing the still worried face the Doctor had even when they'd just shut down the panel.

"Emergency shutdown, it's imploding, everybody out, out, out!" the Doctor tan out with Avalon, the other humans quickly following in suit.

They ran out the house to the next street and watched as the second floor reverted to the ship and then completely disappeared without anyone noticing a thing.

"Look at them," Craig watched people walking by the house, "Didn't they see that? The whole top floor just vanished."

"Perception filter. There never was a top floor," the Doctor reminded them.

~ 0 ~

After cleaning up the mess in the room they rented, Avalon and the Doctor stepped out the room and walked towards the living room to hand back the keys to Craig. Unfortunately, they entered to find Craig and Sophie kissing and so quickly hurried out. The Doctor left the keys on the sideboard and moved to leave when Craig called for them and halted them on their steps.

"What, you're trying to sneak off?" Sophie raised an eyebrow as they joined the pair.

"Yes, well, you were sort of... busy," the Doctor weakly supplied the word..

Craig picked up the keys and held them to the Doctor, "I want you to keep these. Thank you."

"Thank you," the Doctor took the keys, "Cos I might pop back soon, have another little stay."

"Yeah, in 14 years," Avalon smirked, "Or, if you're really lucky, in 12."

"I said I was sorry!" the Doctor exclaimed with a frown.

He had fully apologized to her and Amy, (and Lena unbeknownst to them) about his tardiness. Unfortunately, it had turned into a more joking matter for Avalon in which she used it to tease him and and irritate him. He supposed he should just be content with the fact Avalon wasn't angry about the 14 years. But, it wasn't fun being teased!

Avalon laughed at his comical expressions and turned back to the others, "Now then. 6,000,400,026 people in the world. That's the number to beat."

"Yeah," Sophie chuckled, "That's what my friend Lena tells me."

Avalon stiffened and blinked, "Wh-What did you say?"

"We'll just be going now, bye," the Doctor waved and hurried out the door with Avalon.

Avalon continued to ponder on the name she'd heard. It was a nice name, pretty, but she couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than just a pretty name. Was there?

~ 0 ~

The Doctor finished starting up the TARDIS and already had a destination, "Back in time! You need to go to the paper shop, leave that note for us," he pointed at Amy.

"Right little matchmaker, you two turned out to be," Amy laughed as she moved up to the Doctor, "Can't you find me a fella?"

The Doctor had a stethoscope on rhe console and quickly pulled it off when he'd heard something wrong, "Oh, rectifier's playing up again...Hold on," he eyed Avalon sitting on the console chair with her journal open. She'd not shaken off the name Lena just yet and the Doctor feared she could be actually remembering, "Amy, you write the note and I'll change that will," he walked off go another room in the console.

"You got a pen?" Amy called.

"Make sure it's a red pen!"

Amy went over to his jacket hanging on armrest of the chair Avalon was in, "What's the matter with you?" she eyed Avalon while searching for the pen.

"What do you think of the name Lena?" Avalon blurted rather urgently. She was racking her head for any possible connection to it but was coming up with nothing. But Amy hadn't answered as she took out a jewelry box from the Doctor's jacket, leaving her stunned. "Amy?" Avalon asked and looked up to see her holding the box, "What is that?"

Amy gave a small shrug and moved closer to her, opening the box to find an engagement ring inside. Avalon raised her eyebrows as she looked at the beautiful ring inside. With no answer, the two gingers stared at it wondering what the Doctor was doing with an engagement ring.

#11th doctor #doctor who #ocappreciation #ocapp #dw imagine #doctor who imagines #11th doctor imagines #11th doctor fics #11th doctor imagine #amy pond #oc: Avalon Reynolds #fic: stars dance

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tobiasfarnal · 5 years ago

Text

Left Behind

Dymphna ran towards the cliffs pursued by the hulking orc and lumbering drunk human, she hurled her bleeding body down into the ocean, the only thought that escaped her was the hope that everyone else made it out alive. She only knew those she’d seen step through (or were tossed into) Toby’s portal.

As the wind flew past her face, her now red hair billowed behind her as the water grew ever closer.

“I’m sorry Toby, I’m going to be missing our date” she thought, having no way of knowing that Toby laid unconscious and broken as she hit the surface; cold and shocking despite the warm air, her own world growing black as the waves enveloped her.

***

“What ya fishin’ up there Tigule?”

“Dunno, Foror...looks like a body.”

“Lots of bodies round here, why you pullin’ that one up?”

“Looks fresh, might still have stuff in its pockets, gonna check, then chuck it back” the goblin chuckled as he pulled Dyn up onto the skiff, looking down into her face, putting his ear over her mouth. “Ey…EY! This one’s still breathin’” he panicked as he turned her over, smacking her on the back to get her to start coughing up the water she’d ingested. “Get a bird out to the Speedbarge, this one needs a medic stat!”

Tigule raised an eyebrow at that, scratching inside of his big green ear, “Why you care, just a human...an a female.”

“Don’ let yer old lady know you said jus a female, she’ll smack youse upside one ways and down anotha. Sides, could be one of the fella’s up from the cliffs, they might pay well to get their people back”

“Ain’ onna the PMC people, she don’ look so dirty, could be new, they broke ‘er threw ‘er away. Look at those wounds. Eitha way, lets get her to the medics, Fizzle should be able to speak Common to her to find out who she is, if she makes it” he grumbled sending a seagull off to fly to the Speedbarge before turning their skiff along behind it.

***

Toby didn't come to until the morning sun breaks and begins to cook him in his cage. He blinks a couple of times, then moans with the pain of his shattered ribs, the orc's great maul having smashed into him once, twice.

He replayed the last nights' events over in his head, and looked around at the other cages. No Iorune. No Digglesdeep. No Dyn. Did they escape? Were they dead? He'd no way to know.

He sat back in the cage, unable to stand or lie down in the cramped confines, and tried to summon his magic to teleport out--but it didn’t come. No magic surged through him, none of his arcane power. He looked down at the manacles clapped across his wrists and sighs at their warding pattern. No magic. No mage. Just…Toby, here to get beaten by the bullies one, last time.

"Oy. The pink one's awake," comes a call from the tower above him, and soon an orc and a troll in Bull's Horn colors approach the cage.

"Hello, mage," said the orc in a nasty snarl, unlocking the cage. "Time for us to talk."

Toby's eyes glazed, and he remembered the state of the Bull's Horn prisoners he'd helped save. He tried to swallow, but his throat was already dry and parched...not a good sign. He closed his eyes, remembering an old technique.

Getting beaten was Toby's forte. He'd spent his life growing up in the slums of Old Town, and the Alteraci-faced boy had been a common target for sport. He'd learned, then, how not to be present in himself. A part of him took the boot to the stomach, screaming and crying out, but the rest of him...simply watched the horror, looked on as though it were someone else's body, and not his. In this way, he examined the pain clinically, disinterestedly, and even though he screamed and cried out it never affected that core part of his thoughts.

He hadn't known, then, how handy that skill would be, but he used it now. The part of him that thought, that remembered, talked, laughed, and was human--that part of him simply looked on as the big orc pulled a hot iron from the fire. That part of him watched the animal pieces of him in his body scream as his flesh burned, and that part of him spoke not a word about the Forty-Seventh and those few people who had risked themselves to bring these animals to justice. He clinically noted the way his flesh reeked as is burned to a char, passively felt his voice crack when the screams ripped through his parched throat.

But he knew that, whatever the orc did to the flesh-lump that contained him, he'd already won. So he sat, and he watched himself be tortured. Then he watched himself be thrown back in the cage, untreated, without food or water, into a pile of his filth and others. He was dead, of course. This was the end of Tobias Farnal. But he'd always accepted that--always known that's where military service led. And he'd end in pain and filth, unsung--but he'd end in victory, nonetheless.

Which explained the small smile that creeped across his face as the pain dragged him back down into unconsciousness.

***

“Hey kid, wake up�� a gnome’s voice suddenly in her ears, cool hands gently shaking her awake.

Dymphna gasped, trying to jolt herself out of the cot but she seemed to be restrained. Blinking in the dim light she tried to focus on the source of the voice. “W…where am I?” she asked quietly as she relaxed herself, knowing fighting would probably not be a good option at this point until she assessed her situation.

“Speedbarge, you’re safe for the moment” he smiled as he looked her over. “You were in a pretty rough state there missy, little bit longer and you’d have been lost, oh dear yes. Good thing I keep more than a few healers on the payroll, cause, you know, pirates” Fizzle sat back on his stool, giving her a warm smile.

“Why am I tied down then?” she asked quietly “May I have some water?”

The gnome motioned to one of his employees nearby who promptly brought her some water, but also checked her bonds. “Safe side, really. Cause, Pirates”

Dyn chuckled at that and nodded her thanks to both of them. “Makes sense, I’m no pirate, I assure you,” she said. Her fingertips gently touched the edge of the bonds, but she still did not try them.

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. What’s your name kid?” he grinned at her.

“Regina,” she smiled back, relaxing once more, using the moniker she had assumed a few nights earlier. “Regina Cantswell”

“Well, Regina, how’d you end up in the deep? You looked like you came out of the wrong end of a cat fight.”

Dyn knew whatever story she came up with, would be crucial to whether she would be released from the bonds. “I was traveling from the Barrens, trying to visit a friend in Feralas, Quillboar shot down my griffon when I flew too low to avoid the thorns, it knocked me off and they started attacking me, I escaped, but, it was dark, I fell over the cliff into the canyon, I don’t remember much after that” she sighed, faking a sad face “I’m going to miss that griffon, raised her from a hatchling, I hope she made it out”

The gnome looked her over, seeming satisfied with that response, “Yeah, you’re lucky, don’t see many people fight with the Quillboar and win, you should be more careful” he smiled, releasing her bonds and patting her arm. “My healers say you should be recovered in a day or so if they keep on you. Then we can get you a griffon back home. I wouldn’t linger too long though, there are some unsavory types around the Needles lately. I’ll send you some food up in the meantime”

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled sweetly as the gnome shuffled out, his assistant following behind him. When the two were out of sight she rose, the pain of fighting a familiar memory after her many times during the campaign. “Waking up in the infirmary again, Hempstead. Tinkertorch is right, as always,” she muttered to herself. “And yet, I still keep going” she grinned as she went to the porthole, assessing her situation. She could see the cliffs where the PMC Camp still stood. “At least I’m not too far away” she whispered under her breath looking towards the camp, plotting her next move.

***

Toby's cracked lips managed a little smile as he watched the hurried movements of the PMC around him, unpacking and leaving. He'd no clue where they were going, what was in their boxes, or how they were getting anywhere...but it was clear that the Bull's Horn was de-assing their base camp with the quickness, and that was all he could ask for.

They'd stopped torturing him, though Toby suspected that had more to do with their partial evacuation than any real change of heart. He also suspected they had no need--the info had done its job, the regimental mission was complete, and these bastards already knew they'd been had.

He had no illusions that he'd live. That he'd be some prisoner in a camp for Alliance troops to rescue, like those poor bastards he'd helped pull out of the jungle. He looked up as the sun beat down on him and squinted, then looked back at the scurry. His legs cramped and bucked with dehydration and inability to stretch, and he barely paid attention to it.

It was strange, really. The torture had almost been preferable to this casual neglect he experienced now. The torture, at the very least, was nteresting—if in a terrible way. Now, he could but sit in this caged box, rotting in his own filth, and slowly bake to death--and be bored while doing it.

He closed his eyes and began to run through mental drills, student exercises designed to prep the mind for wielding immense arcane magics. Each breath came hot and dry through his parched throat, but he focused that mind of his.

He was going to die, slowly and painfully. His energy drained, and the beginnings of a fever from infected wounds beginning. But he was bound and determined to die a mage, and not a gibbering Lunatic.

Please, he thought. Light, please give me that much. I'm not going to die well...let me at least die me.

***

As the day faded into evening, Dyn played nice with the various healers that would come and visit, be they goblin or gnome. They brought her food, water, or offering healing when she needed. She smiled, played innocent, made herself out to only being a simple girl who ran afoul of the quillboars, nothing more. As the night wore on, the barge grew rowdy with the various patrons of the bar either fighting, yelling, or just singing bawdy songs together.

The little gnome woman who had been watching after her allowed her to go downstairs for but a few moments to stretch her legs. She was just a human after all, one of many visitors to the barge stopping on their way to somewhere else. Using this opportunity, Dymphna was able to slip around, finding herself a few daggers, a couple skins of water, and, being a ship with both gnomish and goblin inhabitants, plenty of incendiary items for her to stash in a rucksack in her quarters, waiting for the right moment.

As the watch called midnight, the ship seemed to settle. She pretended to be soundly sleeping as the nurse made her rounds, checking her vitals, giving her another dose of healing to her deeper wounds before calling it a night. When the woman padded away, and the ship grew silent to all but the sound of the waves lapping at the sides of the barge, Dyn made her way out of her room, slipping past dozing guards to find a small rowboat. Jumping inside, she waited for the sound of anyone coming behind her, yet nobody came. "Good" she muttered before making her way back towards the cliffs.

***

The days had blurred together--had it been a week? Two? Toby couldn't tell, and didn't care. Each day, each night, the same, sitting in his iron cage. He could tell that his burns were festering, infected by the neglect of leaving him in his own waste, but there was naught to do about it. The Bull's Hord paid little attention to him, now, leaving him in the cage without consideration as their skeletal crew finished packing whatever it was that needed packing. Where they were headed, and in what form they'd next be seen, Toby didn't know and, idly, didn't care.

He regretted not talking to his parents, the last couple of times there'd been leave. Oh, he'd had letters, but he hadn't summoned the courage to actually go see them. His mother would be heartbroken as he simply...disappeared from the earth. Rosa--he'd made a promise there, to the strange young worgen, and he wasn't going to keep it--one more person in her tally-book on that score. And Dyn.

“You still have that date,” he heard her say. Prior to the mission, their running promise throughout Friendly Neighbour. He owed her a date, something nice. Something private. He remembered the weight of her head, leaning on his shoulder as the regiment sat around the table. Yet another promise he wouldn't be able to keep.

For the hundredth time, he tried to find that well of magic within him, only to find the wards on his manacles blocking him from using it. Not that he'd much strength left to use it with, anyways, but if he could only summon some water. Just...just a drop or two of water for his paper-dry throat. But he'd no chance of it, and no chance of life, and he leaned back in his crate and continued his long, slow wait for death.

***

When Dyn finally made it to shore after what felt like agonizing hours she began the ascent towards the cliffs, thankful she had chose a landing spot where she could stow the boat, as well as having a convenient path that ran towards the mountains. “Thank the Light for that” she smiled as she hefted the backpack over her shoulders. Glancing up towards the sky she checked the position of the moon. “Few hours until daylight, gives me time to get in” she spoke to herself in the darkness as she made her way towards the base.

Remembering the layout of the camp she found her way around the wooden walls, beams not unlike what they had erected in and around Kingsland, yet, she could see the hustle of activity, people rushing from building to building, “What’s going on, I imagine” she smirked as she found a safe place to stash her pack in the dark. She quickly pulled her hair up into a fierce bun, pulled up her hood and found some dirt to rub on her face and neck, giving her somewhat of a more weathered look before she quickly moved to try to blend in with the various people moving about.

She grabbed boxes and bags from people, loading them into carts to be hauled down to the ships, noting somewhat what was inside, tools, ammunition, paperwork. Most people barely speaking to each other, merely keeping to the task at hand, evacuation. She looked around for signs of her companions, but thankfully, did not see any bodies, at least not out in the open.

“You there!” a gruff Orc voice snarled towards her. “Come here!”

She turned, biting her lip as she obeyed and moved towards the man she recognized as one of the ones she fled from mere nights prior.

“What are you doing? I don’t recognize you!”

“I’m new, Sir…. signed on a couple weeks ago…helping move stuff” she kept her face down, lifting her box up to show him as she motioned again to the path that lead to the dock.

“Why haven’t I seen you before now?”

She shrugged, “New blood, I got latrine and cookhouse scullery duty, do you recognize every shit hauler?” she smirked, giving him a look.

The Orc laughed, then slapped her, “No insolence, grunt” he grinned as she reeled slightly, dropping her box. “Now get that down to the shore and get on the boat with the rest of them, we’re almost done here, and stay where we can see you, no wandering, we’re almost free of this rock” he retorted, casting what was probably an unintentional sidelong glance towards the prison cells, where she had callously dispatched one if its inhabitants only nights prior.

“Yes Sir, of course Sir” she nodded and headed back down to the ship before slipping her way back up, this time moving towards the watch towers, carefully avoiding the pile of shit underneath as she moved towards the cages.

“GRUNTS, PEONS, ON THE BOATS!” a harsh Kal’dorei voice yelled. “UNESSENTIAL PERSONELL TO THE BOATS”.

As she moved towards her hiding spot behind some boulders, she watched the flood of bodies rushing down to the docks finally, leaving everything else behind, only a handful remaining as the boats pulled away, lingering around a campfire.

“Five….” She counted the remaining men, pondering why they just didn’t all evacuate at the same time. She pulled her spyglass out of her bag, surveying around the camp then towards the cells before seeing a blonde lump, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she let out a soft exclamation "Toby!"

She pulled herself back into hiding, into cover, while her mind raced. He lived…and was a captive. What had been a suicide mission to burn this place to the ground changed, suddenly, into a new set of objectives. She looked at her bag of timed incendiaries and two daggers. Would this be enough? Could she pull it off? She rolled back into position, deploying her spyglass and waiting for the chance to strike. A long while passed before it came, but came it did. Narrowing her eyes, she watched the human soldier stumble behind the now-empty building, hands fumbling at the front of his trousers.

She slipped forward through the night and drew one of the knives she’d stolen from the barge from her boot. The man, inebriated and singing some slurred drinking song, lumbered against the building drunkenly, coating it with his urine, and never saw her coming before he slumped down onto the sands, his throat cut from end to end.

“Three, that’s good enough I suppose” she chuckled before opening the door of the building, placing a small bundle just inside the doorway, setting a timed charge. “Gives me enough time to get away”

“Talon, Talon, what’s taking you so long?”

She froze as the Night Elf’s voice suddenly was heard coming closer. Shit shit shit! she thought as she dove under the building.

“Ey Talon! You fell down drunk again while pissing, damn human.” The man laughed slightly as he bent down to try to bring his friend up, only to come away with warm bloody hands.

“What the…Talon…GU….” His cry out to his compatriots cut short as Dyn brought a rock down to the back of his head, the Kal’dorei falling like a lump over his friend.

“Well, that’s two” she sighed, backing away from the scene and rushing back to pick up her backpack, placing another timed explosive near one of the guard towers before moving off to the cages, the way now cleared to… No Toby. Instead of the young, sandy-blonde mage, all she saw was an open cage and a set of drag marks.

***

Toby barely registered the sound of the lock being opened. "Alright, pinky," said the gruff, orcish voice he'd heard during his sessions with torture. "You're with me."

The orc reached in and dragged him by the manacles out of the cage. In his fugue of fever and dissociation, he felt the motion, registered the pain of it. The orc tried to make him stand, but he'd no strength in his legs to hold his weight. Disease, starvation, dehydration, and trauma prevented him from the basic act of carrying his own weight.

"Damned weakling," his orcish captor muttered to himself, then simply began dragging the young mage over the sand. "Higher-ups want you to die elsewhere, so we're going to take a little trip. I voted for leaving you to rot, but you're lucky...I've been ordered to make sure." He gave a low chuckle. "Wasn't ordered to make it too quick, though," he says as he dragged Toby out of the compound and away from the final evacuation of the Bull's Horn PMC. Toby had no energy to fight, no ability to move himself--the end had finally come, and he could but wait patiently as his orcish executioner dragged him into the high desert in the moutains between Tanaris and the Thousand Needles...and to his final, unmarked resting place, wherever that would be.

He’d no clue how long it took before he felt his body flop onto the sand, the impact of it registering through his ravaged body. He expected the orc's axe to follow shortly, but it didn't. Instead, the Orc took a long draught off his canteen, polishing it off then chucking the empty container over his shoulder.

"None of this is personal, Pinky," the orc said. "You folks worked us over, and good. Whole PMC is disbanding, organization's filing for bankruptcy. Us grunts are going to have to find a new place to sign on...though chances are we'll just re-form under a different name, transfer our contracts, and go on with our lives. Heard you're the one that got your people free."

The big orc pulled his axe free, and began sharpening it with his whetstone. "But word has to get around. You screwed us, and there's got to be a price to that. I'm not gonna tell you I'm sorry for this, because I'm not sorry at all. But I want you to know...still respect you, warrior that you are."

With that, the orc raised his axe above his head, aiming first at Toby's legs. "Doesn't mean this isn't going to be painful."

***

Dymphna followed the pair through the desert, her leather booted feet silent. The Orc seeming to not know or even fathom that anyone could be following him. As she watched him unceremoniously plop Toby down and draw his axe, she felt a cold rush over her, a focus she had rarely felt before. This was her friend, someone she cared deeply for, to see him bloody and broken, she knew what had to be done.

But how? She’d faced Orcs all her life, from the Blackrock who would perpetually raid the family farm, to most recently against the PMC. Their hubris was their weakness, she knew this; the thought that they could not be bested. She had to resort to thought and motion together to be able to at least get him to focus on her and move away from Toby, especially with the sound of the whetstone grinding against the axe.

Drawing up everything inside of her she took a step towards the Orc, “Now or never” she thought, knowing that things needed to happen quickly to change his focus before he brought that axe down. “Hey!” she yelled.

“OH my god, another person, Oh...you’re an Orc…do you even speak common? I’m so lost” she sighed, once again giving him the appearance of a damsel in distress. “WHERE……IS……HERE?......” she gesticulated wildly, pretending not to notice the lump before him in the lightning darkness of the dunes.

The orc looked up briefly, then his axe flashed down, neatly cleaving through Toby’s tibia and fibia and severing the young mage's foot and ankle cleanly from his body. His back arched with the sudden, new pain, and his parched throat opened in a scream he could not voice--and then slumped, fainting from the pain, his blood leaking onto the sand of the desert below him.

Dyn gasped at the sight of Toby’s foot, then swallowed—she’d a wall that needed to be taken down first, and she told herself she’d die trying.

The unnamed orcish grunt raises his Axe from his bloody work and looks back to Dyn. "Brave of you, coming back for him like this," he said, gesturing at the mage now bleeding out into the sand. "We've got descriptions of all of you that fled, lass--you're the one that jumped the cliff. I had two gold riding with Duffy that you hadn't made it--looks like I owe him. And looks like I'm killing two little mice out here, instead of one."

Dyn cocked her head to the side and smirked, letting the wild feeling of combat wash fear from her. “Good,” she said in a clear, cool voice. “I was never good at the pretext anyways. Maybe I can save you the gold by killing you”

Drawing her daggers once more she dug her ankles into the sand before leaping towards the Orc, aiming to get to get blades into him before he could swing that massive axe into her once more.

Her foe eased back into his stance, waiting, and as Dyn rushed him he timed it perfectly, pivoting away from her charge. He was too close to get a swing with his axe, but her momentum carries her past him, and as it does he brings his knee up into her gut, knocking the wind from her. The woman coughed, trying to recover, as the big axe swung it in a screaming arc downwards toward her head.

Dym tried to step to the side, and managed to avoid taking a lethal blow to her head. But she didn’t avoid the axe entirely, and her shoulder and back erupted in pain as the axe sank in deep. Fighting through the pain, she reached down and grabbed the sand, red with sprays of her own blood as she threw it into his face.

Her orcish opponent stepped back, blinking, trying to clear his eyes as Dym drove hard at his side with a dagger. At the last moment, he twisted a bit, stepping back; Dyn's dagger bit into flesh, then pulled out quickly. Blood flew from the orc's side, but he stayed on his feet and chuckled as he looked at Dyn, panting and bleeding.

"Was telling Pinky, here," he said, gesturing to Toby. "Nothing personal in any of this--got a lot of respect for the both of you. Warriors. Killin' you's an honor." He nodded to her in a little salute, then took a step toward her, his axe in motion, ready to deliver the killing blow at last.

Dym grimaced, the pain in her shoulder beginning to sap her strength. The Orc before her became the embodiment of everything that had happened in these past months, the snipers, the bombings, the camp full of the dead and the dying, Nyla, Novo, everything. Her own wounds cried out for vengeance as she fixated upon her foe, but she knew he had the advantage. Less wounded. Well fed. Longer-ranged weapon. Better armor. More training. She raised her dagger, ready to fight to the death…but she grasped no illusions as to her chance of success.

And that's when the explosions began.

It started with a single blast, but two more follow in quick succession, and the pre-dawn light flares with orange fire as Dyn's incendiaries detonate within the camp. The orc reacted in a basic, completely instinctive manner by stopping his step and turning his head. His voice came out low and curious as he watches the flames licking at the dry wood of the PMC's building.

"What the--"

Dym launched herself in a white hot rage at him once more, blood pouring out of her shoulder as she plunged her dagger deep into the Orc’s throat, sawing at it to be sure the artery was cut, never for him to hurt another person again.

The Orc tried to fight, but it didn’t last long as he fell, nearly toppling over onto her as she drew away, unsteady as she turned to look at the base, slowly becoming engulfed. "I'm no mouse you piece of shit, I'm a Lion" She turned and bolted towards Toby, her hands cradling his as she sobbed, holding him close.

“Toby…can you hear me?” she looked towards his severed foot, rushing to grab something, anything, to stop the bleeding. Rummaging through her pack she found some cloth where she could tie a tourniquet. “We need to get out of here” she whispered, ignoring her own wounds for now, sights focused only on him.

"B-Brooks?" he murmered in a cracked voice barely above a whisper, then leans his head back struggling to swallow. "How...where..."

She almost laughed at the absurdity, remembering her dyed-dark hair as she tied off the tourniquet. She saw his chapped lips and mouth, rushing back to her pack to get the waterskin, lightly wetting his lips, not wanting to give him too much too soon. "Shh...no, its me, Dyn.....I'm here....we need to get out of here."

"Dyn?" he asked, his voice a bit restored from the gulp of water. "You're...you're alive," he says, and a small smile crept up his face. "But leave…no. Can't. No leg," he says. "No magic," he adds, then wiggles the manacles at her, indicating them. He leans his head back on the pillowing sand for a moment.

"For now" she replied as she looked back towards the camp, not seeing any figures heading their direction. She gave him a bit more water to drink before searching over the corpse of her fallen foe, finding a small ring of keys.

"We're going to get out of here, and Brooks, Brightmaul..someone is going to put your foot back," she said, her voice far more confident than she felt. But the key turned smoothly, and a moment later the lock popped off.

Toby closed his eyes as the manacles fell from his wrist. The pain of his fever-ridden body, slipping into shock from the trauma of losing his leg, racked with burn scars and disease, faded as he reached for his power.

He felt that arcane torrent, and coughed as he mustered what little reserves he has left. "Can't...hold this...long..." he says, and a portal began to form. It flickered and flashed as he struggled to hold it, and

Dym couldn’t help but remember his warnings about the risks of using a portal in an altered mental state. She also remembered that he'd managed to pull it off once. Toby's eyes began to flicker, and she knew the effort this cost him, this one, last-ditch attempt to go home. She knew she had but a moment’s chance. She grabbed his foot, wrapping it loosely and putting it into her backpack, slipping it in front of her.

"Ok Corporal" she grunted, her own energy fading just as quickly, "We're going through this together, right?" She bends down, lifting his body, the dehydration and malnutrition making him somewhat easy to lift for the girl who was used to lifting livestock and pulling drunk farmhands around. She didn't know where the portal led, only that it wasn't here as she jumped through, both of them together, like they did on that first fateful night where they met.

#wra rp #WrA Alliance #wra roleplay #fortyseventh #wow rp character blogs #wow rp #wyrmrest alliance

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masked-mallards · 5 years ago

Text

Masked Mallards, The Multiverse, and Everything else

Chapter 5 Lesson in the Multiverse

Gosalyn stared at the elder clone from behind the mirror side of the one-way mirror room. He sat in a steel chair in front of a table, both bolted to the ground. The clone's ankles were shackled to the chair, his arms were wrapped tightly around his torso in a straightjacket which was hooked to the back of his seat, he wasn’t going anywhere. Launchpad and the Fearsome 4 were in the observation room with her. When she had gotten here, Launchpad had finished moving him into the interrogation room. The large duck’s face was flushed, when she had asked Bushroot what had happened, he simply said that the clone was a little too happy to see him.

Megavolt was livid as he stood watching the clone. He was so close to the duck who killed Quackerjack, he had to restrain himself not to break the truce. He has had enough of Darkwing clones. Negaduck was a horrible boss, Drake had lied to him for years, and now one has taken the life of the one he had loved most. Sparks flew from him as the glowered at the clone. He looked around the small room they were in, everyone looked like a cat ready to pounce, just daring the clone to try anything though he couldn’t see them. Their attention was caught when the door to the interrogation room slide open and closed with a click.

Darkwing laid a box on the table, then sat across from the clone. Neither spoke for a few minutes.” First, I want your name,” Darkwing started. “I am not calling you Clone all night.” The clone smirked then snickered. “Come now, my name should be that hard to figure out, we are the same person aren’t we Drake?” the second voice said. Drake went silent for a moment then continued. “Don’t even try to pull the same tricks, unlike Negaduck, I gladly have a life outside of my nightly activities... Nice try though.” He responded. The clone scoffed. “It was worth a shot.” The clone replied. “As for our name, Clone works fine for now.” The 1st voice answered.

“Ok then, “Clone” let’s get started.” Darkwing in a slightly annoyed tone. “So, what brings you to our little corner of the multi-verse?” he asked. Clone wisecracked, still wanting to play games. “The Primeverse is where we get our breakfast, though we always have to come back, we forget the milk.” Darkwing ignored his quip. “Funny,” Darkwing retorted in a deadpan. “Your to-do list didn’t mention milk.” He reached inside the box, pulled out a thin clear envelope, and placed it in front of Clone. It was the burned note that Negaduck had found at the warehouse. Clone’s smirk disappeared.

“You moron! I told you not to make that fucking list!” Clone barked. “It’s not my fault he got it, you wanted to try and burn it, rather put it in the coat," he argued back in his 1st voice. Drake watched as Clone continues to argue with between his two personalities, to get a better idea about to proceed with them.” For the last time, we do not need a list to do our damn job, it is the same thing over and over again. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to forget 6 targets” the 2nd voice said.” Forget?!”, the 1st voice exclaimed. “You can’t even remember what universe we are in, let alone to feed Jekyll.” Clone’s expression changed to confusion. “Who?” the 1st voice asked. 2nd voice answered flustered “You wonder why I keep a list; it is to keep us organized.” Clone’s expression changed to annoyance. “No, it’s not,” the 1st voice responded. “It’s you feeding your O.C.D.” Clone’s expression shifted to anger. “It’s not O.C.D., its C.D.O!”. “Neat freak.”. “Slob”.

Clone’s body shook violently for a moment, then he fell forward and hit the table hard. “Your fault!” the voices said in unison. Darkwing wonder how long they would have continued; they fight like children on the playground. After a minute, Clone picked himself up from the table. “So, what does bring you to the Primeverse then?” Darkwing pressed. “Don’t you have this in your own world?’ Darkwing waved the burned note in front of him. Clone's eye began to dart around, looking for a way out. The stubborn old duck was determined to be uncooperative. Darkwing began to get fed up with his behavior.

“Don’t bother trying to escape,” Darkwing said firmly." We took precautions, and it's not like you jump into another warp hole." He said as he reached into the box, pulled out Clone's broken device then placed it on the table. Clone studied the pile of scrap metal. "If it is no longer functioning, how did you learn its purpose?” Clone asked out of curiosity. Darkwing answered plainly. “Megavolt figured it out, almost fixed it too, unfortunate for you though we had to destroy it again. It is beyond repair now. How did you get it anyway?” Clone frowned and avoided the question. “Pity,” the 2nd voice said in disappointment. “You should have killed him when we told you to, it will be better in the long run.”.

Darkwing put back the device and left the box open. “The both of you have a one-track mind, don’t you? Quit stalling and answer the questions I give you." He said finally tiring of Clone's games. Darkwing felt his temper begin to rise and glanced at his hand. It was wrapped in a bandage after the incident with Steelbeak, so far, the only one who knew about it was Gryzlikoff and he wanted to keep it that way. The last thing he wanted was Gosalyn and Launchpad to find out, it would mean that he would have to confront it. Also, Negaduck would enjoy the fact that he was slowly losing it, adding to his self-loathing.

Clone began to laugh uncontrollably in both voices and fell forward again still laughing. "What is so funny?" Darkwing asked. Clone picked himself up catching his breath. "It is always Déjà vu when dealing with Masked Mallards. We had a similar conversation with Jim Starling…. Oops, we meant Negaduck the night before-" The 1st voice responded still smiling. There was a crash outside the door. It swung open as Negaduck, in a rage, tried to fight off Bushroot, who was trying to hold him back. Vines constricted around the rabid ducks’ arms and torso, trying to reel him back to the entrance. “Negaduck,” Bushroot pleading. “Darkwings’ got this, let it go.” Negaduck stopped his attack, considering the plant’s plea.

Negaduck turned his back to the old mallard and began to head back through the mirror door. Clone wasn’t finished yet. “What is the matter Jim?”, the 2nd voice said, "Hate having a name like everyone else, hate the fact that it is your father’s?” That was the last straw, Negaduck drew out a switchblade he had hidden before coming here, pushed down Bushroot who tried to stop him and made a beeline for viper-tongued cloned. Darkwing intercepted the duck and disarmed him of the knife, which landed on the table and slide in front of Clone. Darkwing and Negaduck were scuffling on the ground.

Clone sat back in his chair, watching as the scene unfold with slight amusement of his handy work until the glint of Negaduck's switchblade caught his eye. Bushroot took notice Clone eyeing the knife in front of him. In the span of a few seconds Bushroot darted to swat the knife away as Clone attempted to grab it with his mouth, but he had no traction on the slick floor of the interrogation room and fell on the table pushing the knife on to the floor. Drake pulled Jim to his feet, both slightly bruised. Darkwing’s senses began to leave him as he heaved a furious Negaduck to his feet, holding him by the collar. The yellow glared at the purple, daring him to finish the job.

A cry of pain snapped both of their attention in Clone's direction. Clone had Bushroot's neck his mouth like a steel beartrap with his fanged like teeth. If Bushroot had been made of flesh and bone instead of stem and leaf, his neck would have snapped on impact. Clone began to speak, though it was gargled at first, the message was very clear. “Release us or kill us, we do not care which.” The 1st voice snarled. “We will not be broken, and we will not stay here.” The 2nd voice continued. “Do it, or you’re going to another body on your hands.” The Liquidator rushed in, but didn’t dare test Clone’s threat.

Nobody said a word. Negaduck approached the violent captive and stood behind him. He grabbed him by the hair of his head and lifted him as far as Clone’s restrains would allow it. Clone grunted in pain but didn’t let go of Bushroot. “1st of all,” Negaduck said still in a rage.” Nobody tortures Bush-rot but me.” He let him go and picked up his blade. “2nd If you wanted to die so badly, all you had to do was ask me, I will happily fulfill the request." He handed the switchblade to Darkwing and moved back behind clone." Finally, much to my disappointment, I am under a truce that says you live. So sorry request denied." Negaduck wrapped his hands Clone's neck and began to choke him. Darkwing moved in ready to pry them apart. "Don't interfere, Drake," Negaduck snapped. "trust me.”

Darkwing didn't know why he felt compelled to listen to him, but he stood down. Clone struggled for two minutes, as his body jerked around, he still kept Bushroot in his mouth. Finally, he gagged and was forced to release Bushroot. Negaduck let go of elder. Bushroot stood on his feet with a start as Clone coughed and gasped for air. His plant-like neck looked like it met a weedwhacker, but otherwise, he was fine. "When deprived of oxygen, the body has an involuntary reflex that forces them to breathe for air after a certain amount of time." Negaduck explained. "It is a reason people drown." He turned and went back to the observation room and stopped at the entrance. "If Clone knew what say about me to make me tick, imagine what he'll say about you." He said before going in his tone was calmer. Liquidator gathered a shaken Bushroot and followed him out. The door shut with a click.

Clone continued to cough and wheeze but stopped after 4 minutes. He sat up, glowering at Darkwing. "Looks like you banking on Negaduck to kill you backfired," Darkwing said as he sat back down in the chair across from Clone. Clone growled at the sound of his defeat. Bushroot had told Darkwing about the possibility that Clone had probably been a test subject of some sort, and it might be the reason he's been incredibly hostile. (“We will not be broken, and we will not stay here.”). Clone’s words rang in Darkwing’s head. “What happened to him to make him want death over captivity?” He wondered.

“Are you ready to corporate now?” Darkwing asked though he already the answer. “Piss off!” Clone responded angrily. “We have nothing to say.” He continued stubbornly. "When will you learn that you are not getting out of this?" Darkwing said as if he were trying to make Gosalyn clean her room. The clone looked him dead in the eye and snickered. “You Masked Mallards are all the same when you think you are in control, you're not.” Clone’s 1st voice replied. "Your games are not going to work on me," Darkwing said coolly. "As much as I want to test that theory,” the 2nd voice said. “we believe a more direct approach is in order.”

Clone let out a high-pitched whistle. The opened box on the table convulsed and jolted off it. Bushroot startled by the box's involuntary movement leaned into Liquidator for protection. He immediately stood up again, somewhat embarrassed. The box fell on its side, and a possessed trench coat came out. Darkwing had already backed away from the table. The coat jerked around as something was trying to get out. A large dog appeared from thin air. It was the size of a wolf with long fur, its ears, and fur color was that of a Doberman Pinscher. Clone's stunt with Negaduck was just a warm-up.

“Jekyll assault!” Clone said in a command voice. The beast turned its attention to Darkwing, bared its teeth and lunged. Jekyll forced Darkwing the ground pinning him. Darkwing pressed against Jekyll's neck, preventing him from biting his face. Launchpad was the first one to the door and swung it open, however, Gosalyn beat him through. She launched an arrow at the dog, nearly missing its head. Jekyll had his attention on Gosalyn. He released Darkwing and went barreling toward the red-haired archer. Darkwing and Launchpad tried to stop the dog from reaching Gosalyn, but it was faster than them.

Jekyll came to a screeching halt and sat on his hindquarters. Gosalyn lower her bow and gave him a puzzled look as he wagged his tail in excitement. “Jekyll heel “. Clone commanded in his 1st. The dog happily returned to Clone’s side. “Get that brat out of here.” The 2nd voice snarled, not wanting a repeat of the last time Gosalyn interfered. Gosalyn drew her bow loaded with another arrow and waited. Clone got the point. “Jekyll withdrawal" he commanded. Jekyll looked at him in protest, but Clone reminded the dog who was boss. "HOME!” the 1st voice roared. Defeated, Jekyll's ears lower recessively and he disappeared into the coat. Launchpad stuffed the coat back into the box and slammed it shut. Gosalyn rushed over to her father to help him up.

Darkwing tried to drag Gosalyn out, but the stubborn child didn't budge. She knew deep down, that even though Clone was an unstable Darkwing copy, he still cared for his child. He had blown another chance at freedom is proof of that. “I’m not leaving until he swears, he’ll cooperate with the investigation.” She said coolly pointing at Clone. Clone and Gosalyn glowered at each other. Clone irrevocably conceded and bowed his head.” Fine,” Clone’s 2nd voice hissed. “Just leave," his 1st voice said in a less hostile tone.

Gosalyn jerked her arm free from Darkwing and went back to the observation room. The door shut behind her and Clone slumped in his chair. “Your devotion to the child is going to get us both killed one day.” The 2nd voice said aloud. “Hey,” Clone responded in his 2nd personality. “don’t act like you don’t miss her to, and you are probably right, but until then shut up!” ‘Darkwing gave Launchpad the box who took it out of interrogation. “Are you ready to comply?” Darkwing asked not fully believing Clone’s change of heart. Clone peered at his younger doppelgänger. “Yes,” he growled. “but first…” A low growl filled the room and Clone fell to the table and dropped the tough guy act. "We haven’t eaten in two days,” he said in an almost whine.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Darkwing replied in disbelief. Clone shook his head. “Could you feed Jekyll too?” he asked. Darkwing stood up. “That beast just tried to kill me!” he barked. “That is because we told him to.” Clone’s 2nd voice explained. “He’s normally a big teddy bear, when he is not listening to us.” Darkwing tapped his fingers on the table. “Look, trust goes both ways, please feed Jekyll. If you worried about controlling the dog, have Gosalyn feed him. Aside from me, he is loyal to her. In fact, the hybrid likes her better than us.” Darkwing’s fatherly instinct kicked in.” I AM NOT PUTTING MY GOSALYN IN DANGER TO FEED YOUR MUTT!” Clone looked at him with a serious expression for once. “We’re not.” He replied.

There were shouts, and scuffing behind the mirrored door and the Liquidator came through. “What, now! Drake said infuriated by the 3rd interruption. “Gosalyn grabbed the box, and ran out!” he exclaimed. “Everyone dashed after!”. Darkwing rushed out the door. ‘Don’t let Clone go anywhere!” he shouted as the door slammed behind him. The salvia hound looked at bound duck in the chair. “seriously!?” he thought.

Gosalyn had already opened the box by the time the adults reached her. She was tired of the distrust displayed tonight, and wanted to end it. If Jekyll was as loyal as clone said he was to her, then he had told the truth and the investigation could continue without there being any doubt in Clone’s testimony. “Jekyll Come” she said with the same kind of command that Clone had used. The trench coat thrusted violently out of the box, and Jekyll popped out of thin air. The dog looked growled at Darkwing and the others who posed a threat. “Jekyll Heel!” Gosalyn barked. The vicious dog relaxed and went to Gosalyn’s side. Gosalyn knew how the trench coat worked. Megavolt had told her back the house. She reached in and pulled out a turkey leg. “Sit.” She commanded. The dog obeyed and everyone relaxed, Clone had been telling the truth like he said he would.

Gosalyn tossed the leg to floor. Jekyll didn’t go for the meat. Gosalyn stared at him puzzled. “He’s not going to eat it until you tell him to,” Negaduck spoke up, having trained dogs for years. Gosalyn saw that he was clinging to his collar close to his heart. “Did he actually worry for my safety?” she thought. No, he isn’t capable of such a thing. “Eat.” Gosalyn directed. The war dog attacked the turkey leg, eating it greedily. Darkwing looked like was about to have a heart attack, it was the second time today she could have gotten hurt. He wanted to yell at her again for testing fate when it came to Clone. However, she had proved her point that Clone would corporate, and that she wasn’t in any danger to begin with.

Sometime later

Darkwing waited patiently in the kitchen as the electric can opener did its job, he had laid fruit on the counter with a knife and cutting board. He had used Clone’s other request for a meal as an excuse to get some fresh air. Launchpad had followed, and everyone else went back to the observation area. Something had been bothering Launchpad since he and Bushroot examined Clone. The old doppelgänger had gravely affected everyone in the last 24 hours. Launchpad stared at Darkwing in the dark kitchen. If he was going to voice his worry. Now would be the time.

“Hey, D.W.,” he started, as he entered the kitchen. “You know it is not health to sit in a dark room.”. Darkwing spoke without looking up. “You know I thrive in the dark.”. The can opener stopped with a click. Launchpad walked up to Drake who had snatch up the can and poured it into a blender. “Drake,” he said cutting to the point. “I have a feeling that Clone is from an alternate future of another world, much like Darkwarrior in our world.”. Darkwing looked at his pilot.

Darkwarrior duck was another clone that plagued the Prime-verse, even though he is trapped in an alternate time line. He is example of the worst that Darkwing could become if he didn’t tread carefully. “What’s your point launchpad?” Darkwing asked not liking where the conversation was going. “Clone is 30 years your senior,” Launchpad explained “That puts him 5 years after Darkwarrior.” The large duck paused. “You already dodged the “Darkwarrior” bullet, what if Clone is the next one.”

Darkwing glowered, “I think you over thinking this Launchpad,” he said. “Besides, for all we know, he is not even from Primeverse.” Darkwing felt his tenor raise, at the sound of his friend putting him the same boat as Clone. “True,” Launchpad responded. “but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen in Primeverse.”. Darkwing turned his attention the fruit on the counter and chopped them up. Launchpad continued. “I am scared for you Drake,” he went quiet. “Clone is messed up, he clearly had psychiatric break down at some point, killed someone in cold blood, and he almost shot Gos, he set that beast on you, and that just what we know about. Plus, after I heard the message agent Gryzlikoff left – “

Drake flew in a rage and caught hold of the nearest thing, which happen to be launchpad. “That goddamn bear!” he shouted angrily. “I knew he was out to get me, I bet he reported me to J. Gander as well. How did he get the number to the house anyway?!” he let go of his sidekick and wandered near a window. “When I get my hand on that paper-pushing, two-faced- “. Darkwing stopped his tangent when he saw Launchpad’s startled expression, and realized he had been waving a kitchen knife around like a lunatic.

Darkwing dropped the knife to the ground and put his hands to his face. He could have hurt Launchpad, someone close him. Launchpad approached him. “Vlad called the tower,” he said. “He said something about a progress report on Darkwing duck clones. He didn’t say anything else, I only brought it up because I thought he knew about Clone.” Darkwing leaded against a wall, hung his head and felt like an idiot.” Did something happen while you were there?” His pilot asked concerned. Drake wanted to avoid answering the question, but then he remembered that Clone would done the same thing. He was determined not to go down that same path, even it meant confronting his demons. He picked up the knife, resumed his task, and told Launchpad about Steelbeak.

Launchpad quietly listened to Darkwing recount of the incident with Steelbeak. Drake had avoided S.H.U.S.H. like the plague since Duckthulhu, he must have known Steelbeak was there waiting for him. He had blamed himself for Morgana’s disappearance. Granted, Steelbeak had it coming, but he never thought Darkwing be the one to do it. Darkwing, also had always had problem accepting the existence of other dimensional Darkwings. The clones he had the most contact with, being Negaduck and Darkwarrior, haven’t been the greatest examples. On top of that, Clone shows up, and wreaks havoc in his wake. Launchpad realized he hadn’t made thing easier by suggesting that Clone was a possible future for D.W to fall into.

“I sorry for doubting you.” Launchpad said ‘I should have a little more faith in you. Besides, you have one thing that Negaduck and Clone don’t.” Darkwing dumped the fruit in the blender. “And what’s that?” Darkwing asked. Launchpad put his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “The ability to admit something is wrong and Me” he replied Launchpad leaned in close in protectively. “I will always be here for you and Gosalyn, you are like family to me.” Darkwing looked at friend, he knew that Launchpad cared for him, but not this much. Maybe he did, but was too devastated by Morgana to notice.

Launchpad had always been there for him. Drake grabbed the hand on his shoulder, accepting its comfort, and love. Maybe it was time to move on, just maybe. Darkwing tugged Launchpad’s arm, pulling the giant closer. Launchpad wrapped his arms around him in return. The comfort of the pilot was just Darkwing needed. He released his hold on Launchpad, blended the concoction of fruit and what appeared to be spinach, or at least what Darkwing thought was spinach. The Hero and his pilot made their way back the interrogation room.

Meanwhile…

“All it took was Gosalyn.” Megavolt said aloud. “It took 5 chapters to finally be able to learn anything from that stubborn old duck. If we had known that Clone, like Darkwing, would be putty in her hands. We would have had her ask the questions.” Megavolt had been ranting since Darkwing went to fetch Clone something to eat. “Sparky,” Negaduck said, speaking for everyone at this point. “Stop addressing the ghosts”. Negaduck glowered at Clone. If it were up to him, he would have let Clone starve for all he cared.

“Survey says, he must have a Gosalyn and Launchpad from his home dimension.” The Liquidator said, trying to change the subject before Megavolt could start ranting again. “Maybe,” Bushroot said. “He did recognize the both of them. Hey Negaduck, what about you? Is there a Gosalyn and Launchpad in the Negaverse?” Negaduck glared at the plant and the room went silent.” Yes”, Negaduck responded. “Nega-Launchpad is my right-hand duck; I leave him charge of St. Canard in the Negaverse when I’m gone.” He went silent. “What about a Nega-Gosalyn?” Liquidator blurted. Negaduck turned his gaze to Gosalyn who looked at him inquisitively. Megavolt smacked the hound aside the for asking such a question in front of her. “She’s there to.” Negaduck replied, and said nothing more on the matter. The Negaverse was 4 years behind Primeverse, but was more advanced in technology. He tugged at his collar again. Nega-Gosalyn would be 10 this year. It had been 5 years since Darkwing pulled the universal plug and had cut him off from the Negaverse….

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

5 years ago

Negaverse: St. Canard

The streets of St. Canard were filled with unkept roads, neglected building, and its people running free and under little to no regulation. The only law was his law, it was Negaduck's haven. As he walked down the street, the St. Canardians would either run or bowed, he didn’t care for which and mostly ignored them. It was their way of showing respect to their lord. To some he was one of the few that Nega- Scrooge never challenged out right, or because of the freedom he gave them to do as they please. For other it was either the independent country of St. Canard, or under Nega- Scrooge McDuck’s iron curtain of New Duckburg. None could make the journey to the Cape Suzette Stronghold, the last safe place in a world gone mad.

He made his way home on foot. Since Negaduck had cut off St. Canard from the rest of the world, transportation was hard to come by. The only way to travel was by boat or plane, there hadn’t been any cars around in working condition since Negaduck cut ties with Duckburg. Transportation was one of the few things he did regulate. Negaduck had made it clear, that you can live here, but no one can leave. Nobody crossed the border without him knowing about it. This is how they came across Nega-Gosalyn, and a way to keep Nega- Scrooge at bay.

Nega-Waddlemeyer once developed weapons of mass destruction for Nega –Mcduck, his employer. Most of his weapons required a code to operate. When he inherited Nega- Gosalyn from his dead son, he taught her the codes, indirectly in way she could not understand, as a failsafe if anything were to happen and to him. Unfortunately, for him Nega- Taura Bulba, under the order of Nega-F.O.W.L, killed Waddlemeyer and abducted Gosalyn. Unable to reach F.O.W.L headquarters, Bulba sought to transfer Nega-Gosalyn to the Primeverse, a place Nega-Mcduck could never reach. He and his team crossed the border St. Canard illegally, with Gosalyn in tow.

Negaduck had caught wind of the trespassers. Once he heard that they were F.O.W.L agents, he went after them personally, he didn’t want the international organization in his country. After dispatching of Bulba and his men, he met Gosalyn and learned about the Waddlemeyer codes. From that point on Negaduck was Gosalyn’s “guardian” and he made it abundantly clear to Nega-Scrooge, that if he set foot in St. Canard, he’d kill the girl. Negaduck, with exception of Nega-Launchpad, had no love for the child. Or so he thought.

The yellow clad dictator turned down his street and saw three children on his front lawn. One of them was Nega- Gosalyn, the other two were the Muddlefoot children. The children of St. Canard ran wild, the schools had either been closed or burned down, the only time they listen to their parents, was when they threaten to kill them, which some did. Nega- Launchpad however, home schooled Gosalyn, and he always babied her, though Negaduck never understood why his lover and right hand didn’t let Gosalyn toughen up. He didn’t care what the pilot did on his own time.

“Hand it over” Honker demanded, reaching in Gosalyn’s direction. “She earned that fair and square, leave her alone.” Tank asked politely. “I don’t care if she stole like a good little girl, I want it, don’t make me ask again.” Honker growled. Tank pushed Gosalyn behind him defensively. He normally wouldn’t fight, but he will to protect Gosalyn. Honker pulled out a long iron chain. “Now, for the last time-“ Honker stopped and grew quiet as soon as his brother turn pale as a sheet, and he saw Negaduck's silhouette.

“Muddlefoot,” Negaduck said in a calmly, though he was far from it. “You should know better than to ask once for something you want, let alone twice. I thought your father raised you better than that.” He had placed himself between Honker and the other two. “So disappointing, oh well.” Negaduck said, his voice growing more aggressive. Negaduck kicked the delinquent hard and he fell to the ground. Honker curled in a little ball bracing for what was coming. Negaduck continued to beat the boy while he was on the ground, ignoring pleas made by Gosalyn and Tank to have mercy. Honker eventually stopped moving, Negaduck didn’t kill him, he wanted the Honker Muddlefoot to remember this.

The child beating duck turned his attention to Tank, who stood between him and Gosalyn. It was known that the eldest child of Herbert Muddlefoot had a crush on Gosalyn and wanted to protect her on the streets of St. Canard. Negaduck always hated him for that, though he didn’t understand why, or at least he denied it. “Boy, Gosalyn needs to learn to fight her own battles and grow a backbone” Negaduck said no longer hiding his malice. He lifted Tank of the ground by his wrist. Tank squirmed to get away, and Gosalyn was crying, she knew what her father planned to do.

Negaduck used his free hand and slowly snapped Tank’s fingers. Tank screams drowned out Gosalyn begging for Negaduck to stop. Before he released Tank, Negaduck broke his wrist with a twist of his hand. He had left the boy, with a swollen broken hand. “Gather your brother, and get off my property.” Negaduck said without a hint of remorse. Tank did as he was told, and heaved Honker over his shoulder. They disappeared down the street.

Negaduck dragged a sobbing Gosalyn in to the house and sat her at the table in the kitchen. He waited for her to pull herself together, this wasn’t first time he had attacked her friends and it wouldn’t be the last. Gosalyn finally, stopped crying and dried her eyes. Unknown to the both of them, Nega-Launchpad had crept around the corner and was watching them. He had saw the commotion outside and had grabbed a rocket launcher. He was good to blast Honker to kingdom come, until Negaduck came along and did away with him.

The foul duck glowered at his daughter, she had pleaded for him to show mercy to Honker, even when he was trying mug her. Her kindness and sweet disposition, was rare in Nega- St. Canard. It often made her a target for thieves and local gangs. If Launchpad didn’t rain fire upon them, Negaduck would surely break bones, and/or kill those stupid enough to try. He didn’t want harm to come to his hostage. It wasn’t because of his parental instinct to protect Gosalyn. He had no love for her. She was just there.

“So, what did you steal that Muddlefoot wanted so badly?” Negaduck asked. He knew she wouldn’t lie to him, Hell anytime she broke a plate, she’d rat herself out. Gosalyn looked to him, her eyes were still red. “I never stole anything,” she croaked, her voice still horse. “Dad said you were coming home from Primeverse and I wanted to get you a welcome home present.” She reached in to the bag she had been caring prior to the attack. “You were gone for such a long time, I missed you, so I went to the market and spent my savings.” She continued. She rummaged through the bag, and produced an apple and a pin shaped like a rabbit with a frown on his face.

Gosalyn gave the items to Negaduck. Fruit such as apples, were considered a treat in St. Canard, the only way to get them was through Cape Suzette. Cape Suzette was ruled by Sheer Khan, and was the fickle ally of St. Canard. Negaduck and Khan had a simple agreement, they would come to the aid of if the other was attack by New Duckburg, and Cape Suzette would been the only trade partner of St. Canard. This often led to pricey tariffs that St. Canard had to pay, usually by fishing and cheap labor for Khan Industries, who had set up there.

The flip side of the one-sided trade arrangement, was Khan Industries had to deal with lawless that was Nega-St. Canard, there was no one there to protect them from its inhabitance. However, since most St. Canardians chose to fend for themselves, trade with Cape Suzette was seldom. Only one boat came in every 3 months. Because of this, produce like this cost an arm and leg, sometimes even a kidney. Gosalyn had paid for it in cash.

The second item was a pin of a white rabbit with it ears drooped and had a sour expression on his face. Negaduck examined the piece of plastic, it was a relic of a time before New Duckburg and before he took over St. Canard. He hated to small fuzzy creatures; they did taste good though. “I know you don’t like rabbits, because they don’t have a mean bone a mean bone in their body” Nega-Gosalyn explained. “So, when I saw an angry one amongst the rubble of an old abandoned Duckburgian cargo hold at the docks, I thought you might like it.” She grew silent. “Do you like it?” she asked sweetly. “No,” Negaduck said, though he shoved both items into his coat pocket, rather throw them out like he did with most things she had brought him in the past.

He looked around the suburban home. It was spotless. Gosalyn must have cleaned it for his arrival. Negaduck grabbed a nearby newspaper and pretended to read it. “Gos,’ he said with his head hidden behind the paper. “Do me a favor and dirty up the house, its nauseating.”. The duckling hopped to her feet with a smile on her face, and went upon her task. After everything she still wanted to please the horrid father. After she had left, Negaduck took out the rabbit pin and pinned to the inside of his coat. He went to over to a nearby wall mirror to adjust it.

After that he leaned against the wall and continued to read the newspaper, thinking he was alone. However, the fist whirling past his head and smashing the glass mirror proved him wrong. Negaduck look from the paper, knowing full well it was the only one bold enough to attack him in his own home. Nega-Launchpad glowered at Negaduck, who simply stared back. They had a staring contest for about a minute before Negaduck cracked a smirk and Launchpad leaned his massive head against the wall. “Hey Babe,” Negaduck said in a cocky tone. “You miss me?”

Nega-Mcquack growled, trying not to sound happy to see him. “You know I fucking hate being in charge.” he replied. “Every time you leave to Primeverse, you stay longer and longer. This put St. Canard at risk, what if Mcduck takes notices of your absent and attacks? Megavolt and his “friendly” 4 certainly do. They tried twice to take over. I might be your General, but I am no Goddamn leader.” Launchpad stopped his tangent for a moment.

Nega-Megavolt had always been a torn in the side of St. Canard. He had assembled a group of likeminded individuals, who wanted to take back St. Canard, and return it to its former glory. The organization was known as the Friendly 4, and its leaders Nega- Megavolt, Liquidator, Bushroot, and Quackerjack. To Nega- Launchpad, the liberators were nothing more than terrorist. According to Negaduck, Nega-Megavolt used to be his friend prior to his violent takeover of St. Canard, but they had a falling out.

“Plus” Launchpad continued “Half the time you do comeback, you look like Darkwing ate you then shit you out, and who has to put your dumbass back together? Me, that’s fucking who” He paused. “So yes, I am happy fucking happy you’re back you asshole!” Launchpad had always had a mouth, and was the only one that got to talk that way to Negaduck and live. It was part of his charm.

“You don’t think dad is a really an asshole, do you?” a worried Gosalyn asked from the stairs. She had finished destroyed her room when she the commotion downstairs. Launchpad directed his attention to Gosalyn and turned slightly green and red. He made it a point to not to curse in front of her, it was one of his little ways of protecting her. “Yes, he is,” he responded as he left Negaduck and made his way to the bottom of the stairwell. I know it, you know it, everyone in the fu-… err world knows it!” Negaduck tried to suppress a snicker, he agreed. Launchpad ignored him. “And don’t say that word again” he continued in a disciplinary tonality. “it is only for dads and other assholes to use.” Gosalyn answered back innocently. “But would that kind of logic make you both as- that word?”

Negaduck could help it anymore and almost kneeled over laughing at his pilot, there were times Gosalyn’s innocence was too much. He pulled himself together and smiled at the girl, something he rarely did. “Go finish your chores brat, and makes to break something expensive” He ordered reminding himself that he didn’t like her. “The adults need to talk.”. Nega- Gosalyn saluted her father and hurried off. He turned to face launchpad, who had was smirking with his arms crossed. “What?” Negaduck asked his smile disappearing. “Still going to deny it after today?” Nega-Launchpad snickered. “Ready to admit that you care for Gosalyn?”. Negaduck glowered at his pilot. “I don’t,” he replied. “She just lives here.”. The larger duck continued. “Oh really?” he said sarcastically. “What happen to “She is just a hostage”? Don’t think I didn’t see that little exchange between the two of you in the kitchen.”

Negaduck glared at eavesdropping aviator, “That meant nothing, don’t read too much into it” he growled. Launchpad leaned in close to his commander and placed on hand on the wall so Negaduck couldn’t get away easily. “Prove it then,” Launchpad challenged. “Give me the little trinket she gave you, since you are going to trash anyway.” Negaduck suddenly changed his tune. “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you're talking about.” The yellow clad mallard responded. “You can’t lie your way out of this one Negs.” Launchpad said as he closed in on Negaduck.

“What did she give you anyway?” Launchpad asked. Negaduck slide from against the wall and tried to flee to the living room, Launchpad followed. “I serious, don’t know what you’re talking about” Negaduck said. However, it was a fruitless effort, he never could fool his companion. Launchpad lunged at Negaduck in an attempt to grab his coat. Unfortunately for him, what the small duck lacked in size, he made up for in speed. *“Anas, Anas!” Negaduck said as if he were a bull fighter, then he expertly evaded his opponent and tripped him so he’d fall on the couch on his stomach.

Nega-Launchpad forgot all about Negaduck’s pin, rolled over and tried to get up. Negaduck didn’t give him the opportunity. He jumped on top of his pilot, subduing him. Launchpad struggled for a moment then stopped. Negaduck used his free hand to pull up his head tugging on his shirt, and looked at him wantonly. Launchpad didn’t protest, it had been awhile since he and Negaduck preformed any of the “love” in lovers. Frankly, even though he was still mad at him for leaving, he missed it and him.

Negaduck released him, and got off the couch. It was nothing more than a tease. “As much as I want to, I am only here for a supply.” Negaduck said. “I am heading out again, have to maintain the warp hole on the Prime-verse side of things”. Launchpad sat up. “You just got back!” he barked angry. “Look babe,” Negaduck said. Nega-Launchpad was one of the few people he didn’t want to disappoint, not on purpose anyway. “Once this job is done, I’ll have some down time until the portal reopens again.” Negaduck retrieved a duffel bag and started to fill it. “I’ll stay home during that time and do whatever you want do.”. Negaduck heaved the bag over his shoulder. “Promise?” Launchpad inquired, not fully believing him. Negaduck turned to his general. “You know I don’t make promises.” He answered.

He left the house for the last time that day. One that unfornate day, Darkwing discover his warp hole, and enter the Negaverse. He trained the Friendly 4 to be more affective in their goal to liberate St. Canard from Negaduck. As a result, they took Gosalyn away, but they didn’t dare take her out of Nega-St. Canard. They hated Negaduck, but the last thing they want is for Nega- Scrooge to invade. Negaduck tried to trap Darkwing in the Negaverse, via destroying the warp hole on the other side. However, Darkwing followed him in pursuit. The purple clad mallard pulled the universal plug, sending them both to Primeverse, and making it almost impossible for Negaduck to go back to his home world.

Two days later….

Abandon candy factory

Primeverse: St. Canard.

Negaduck had been growing more hostile as of late. Quackerjack watched as Bushroot comforted Spike, as he tinkered with his ‘toys”. Apparently, Negaduck tried to set the carnivorous plant on fire again. After Negaduck got cut off from the Negaverse, he had been taking a more active role as their leader and started to live with them. The clown, unlike the others, didn’t mind. Negaduck was an unstable madman like himself, and always found the duck’s mischief entertaining. Negaduck appeared from the main office, he was eating an apple, and sat at the table at the other end of the room. He ignored Spike who hissed at him. Quackerjack took note that Negaduck had developed a nervous tick, he would touch the inside his yellow coat, as if he was checking for something.

Negaduck's heart skipped a beat. “It’s gone, where is it?” he thought to himself. He began to feel himself panic, but didn’t show it. It was all he had left, and it was missing. Megavolt enter the common area with a load of laundry from the laundry mat. Since Megavolt looked the most normal out of the Fearsome 5, and could go out and about as Elmo Sputterspark, he was the designate errand rat. He dropped the basket on to the floor, a shiny piece of plastic bounced out. Megavolt picked it up and examined it. It was a pin of a white rabbit with a frown on his face.

Negaduck bolted over to Megavolt and jabbed him the gut, knock the wind out of him. Megavolt dropped the pin, which Negaduck caught midair, and crammed it into his pocket. It all happened so fast nobody registered what had occurred until Negaduck had disappeared down the hallway. When he was sure he was alone, the took out the rabbit shaped button and placed it back in the inside of his coat. “No,” he said to himself. “I do not care for the brat.” Though he wasn’t quite sure that anymore.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The sound of a door opening, snapped Negaduck out his reminisce, and back to the present. Darkwing and Launchpad had come back. Drake entered the interrogation room and placed a sealed cup of green mush in front of Clone. Clone wasn’t chained to the chair anymore, but he was still wrapped tightly in a straightjacket. He sat there and stared at the cup. “How are we supposed to eat this, what is it anyway?” Clone asked, trying to find a reason to get out of the jacket. “Looks like something Launchpad made.” Clone’s other personality answered. A mildly amused Darkwing put one of Gosalyn’s silly straws in to the cup. Clone shrugged and gulped it down in one sitting. He gagged. “It definitely tastes like his cooking!” both personalities said turning as green as the concoction Clone had consumed.

“Take it that, there is a Launchpad from your universe to?” Darkwing asked. Though it was a rhetorical question, Clone didn’t treat it as such.” There is not “a” Launchpad in a single universe,” Clone corrected him. “There are two, like every living thing in the Multiverse.” Darkwing gave him a puzzled look. “No,” he said confused. “There is only one Launchpad in the Primeverse, the only time I met another one is was when in the Negaverse.” Clone rolled his eyes. “The Negaverse is part of Primeverse, in fact they are the same universe.” His second personality answered. Darkwing stared at the older clone. “What are you talking about?” he quizzed. Darkwing still had his prior obligation, to investigate the Darkwing clones for S.H.U.S.H. If Clone had insight on the subject, he be a fool not take advantage of it.

“We keep forgetting that, most of the Multiverse is insolated, with the except of a few, no one in the multiverse is aware that they are mirrors.” Clone said bluntly. Darkwing listened carefully. “A single universe, acts like a magnetic field,” Clone’s second personality explained. “They have a positive poll called the Posiverse, which is you, and Negative poll, which is the Negaverse. The Posiverse and the Negaverse make up Primeverse, and balance each other, if one goes the other will fail. This true for all dimensions in the Multiverse.”

Darkwing gave Clone a perplexed stare.” I thought you say cooperate,” He said in an annoyed tone. “Whether you chose to believe us or not doesn’t change to the facts.” Clone answered in his 1st voice. “We intend to honor our agreement and answer your questions.’ Drake rubbed his eyes, and got right down to business. “Let’s start where we left off” he stated. “Why are you here? Why does Primeverse Megavolt need to die? Don’t you have your own Megavolt…. Sorry Megavolts, in your universe?” Darkwing paused. “Prove to me, that I should trust you Clone, what is your real name. You know mine.”

Clone was silent. Darkwing saw him twitch and knew that the personalities were arguing again internally. Clone spoke. “We no longer have a “real” name.” he replied with personalities in union. “If you must know it is Negawing Duck.” Darkwing jotted down the name in his notes. Negawing, continued. “As for the other questions, let me tell you a fact, and the tale of how We became how we came to be.” Darkwing gave him his undivided attention. “As a clone of Darkwing Duck,” Negawing started. “It is our primary job to protect the city, or in some cases country, of St. Canard. However, we have another job as its guardian.” He paused. “There are many different universes out there, but they all have a shared trait. The vail between the Posiverse and Negaverse is thin enough for people to cross over into them easily. 3 guesses as to where.” After the Darkwing Crisis, Drake had pretty good idea.” St. Canard.” He replied.

“Correct.” Negawing said. “Warp holes appear all over the city, most of them are small and unnoticeable, others are large enough for someone to cross through. Some lead to the Void, a network that connects the Multiverse. After the Darkwing Crises, some of the Darkwing clones began to monitor warp holes or outright destroy them” Darkwing listen quietly, his curiosity peaked. “Every Masked Mallard in existence, to some extent is a Quadworth, a person with the ability sense the warp holes. The level of this ability varies from those who can find warp holes and/ or maintain them, to those who can create them, we can only maintain them, find them. The power to perform all three is rare, yet one of the few able to do it is in your observation room.” Negawing went quiet and looked toward the mirrored wall. He knew Negaduck was in there.

Darkwing scoffed. He hated magic and didn’t want to believe that he was some sort of warp hole homing device. “That’s impossible” he retorted. “I am no wizard or a quadworth.” The older duck raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?” Negawing’s second personality answered. “Do think it is a coincidence, that magical incidents happen to you, your connection to the summoning of Duckthulhu, or the fact of all the brainwashable people in the Multiverse, Magica De Spell chose Darkwings?” Drake didn’t know what was harder to believe. The fact he was a quadworth, or Negawing knew about Duckthulhu. Then again Negawing was older that he was and had probably lived through it.

“Anyway,” Negawing continued, “We do not expect you to believe us, take it as it is” Negawing said as if he were talking to a stubborn child. “Now that you know how the Multiverse works and your role in it, let us tell you a tale of the Duck Knights who fail in their duty, and lost everything.” His voiced turned somber. “This is not an origin story is it?” Darkwing said in an irritated tone. Negawing answered just as annoyed. “Unfortunately, yes, yes, it is! Hopefully, you and Negaduck can learn from this cautionary tale.” Darkwing and the peanut gallery in the observation room gave a collectively groaned. They had asked for answers, now they were going get it and then some.

Chapter 6

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190716333084/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter 4

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/612626971235631104/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter1

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190578269234/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

#oc #fanfic #darkwing duck #negaduck #fearsome five #gosalyn mallard #launchpad mcquack #negaverse

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queenburd · 6 years ago

Text

and in the end; chapter 1

This fic has been a year in the planning. It is 25k in totality, split into 6 chapters and an epilogue. It’s meant to be a sort of soft close on the last incomplete character arc(s) of Teslaverse. As such, I’m probably not going to be writing a lot more Teslaverse stuff after this. If I do, it won’t be to the lengths the past few fics for it have been.

It’s... really important to me, this fic. Teslaverse is too, which is why I tried so hard. There’s a ton of callbacks to earlier threads and fics laced through it, all of which are covered in the beginning of each chapter. But finishing this fic helped me figure some of my own stuff out and I really hope it’s as good as I wanted it to be. It will update once a day.

This fic will have some mild graphic descriptions in the final chapters. @mysteriie, who beta-read, said it was not too upsetting. There will still be an author’s note on said chapters.

chapter 1: i'd do it all again

callbacks and references: The “Get Out of Jail Free” Card, The Party

[INCOMING PREVIOUSLY RECORDED TRANSMISSION. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

The lot was in poor shape; long cracks in the concrete that had never seen sealant crisscrossed the faded painted parking lines. They looked like lightning bolts in the day, but now, in the black of early morning, they were nearly invisible. May's flashlight bounced off the concrete as she leaned against the decrepit link fence that Kass was making his way down. He leaped off it a couple feet away from the ground, and it rattled viciously from the impact, before halting abruptly as May grabbed and steadied the links.

They crossed the lot in relative quiet, the light a few feet ahead of them, bobbing unsteadily while May tried to match Kass's longer gait. “If I didn't know any better,” she said, speaking softly, “I'd think you were trying to ditch me.”

Her partner made some sort of noise that he hoped she would not discern for the mild irritation that it was. “I can't help how short your legs are, bird. Don't look further into it, you're doing me a disservice.”

“Okay,” was the simple answer he received, and that was that.

While originally startling at first, Kass had slowly become adjusted to being taken at face value. It was relieving, to not have to bicker constantly about his alleged intentions behind his actions. Very simply, May knew when Kass was intentionally being unpleasant, and when there were underlying reasons. In any case, it made conflicts short, and overall, communication was easier. Less stressful.

They approached the defunct glass factory that the lot surrounded quietly, though it seemed unnecessary. It had long been a site for vagrants and unruly teens, if the graffiti and dank tarps were to be believed. Yet, now, it was silent, save for the two quickly moving bodies.

“Point it out to me?” May requested. In response, he took her light, and directed it upward, to the small broken window above the large bolted door. “Right.” Rolling her shoulders, she shifted and took flight, taking a moment's pause to flutter and examine the crevice. And then she had slipped through, and he lost sight of her.

After the bailout, many months earlier, May had sat Kass down very seriously and said that she outright refused to let him do these harder “missions”, as she had called them, on his own. She had said, very shortly, that she respected his privacy, but if the next phone call she got from authorities was about a body, she would yank his spirit out of whatever afterlife it landed in and trap him in a bottle, simply to shout at him.

While that in itself was hardly intimidating, they had finally come to an agreement of sorts. It was easier to have back-up—to have someone to keep watch. So she had begun to accompany him on the more risky ventures, and in the process Kass had learned much more about his housemate and her abilities. There had been moments where, when he was certain he was down for the count from a nasty wound, she would glare hard at him and put her hands on his arm, and then he was back up and at it with whatever beast had tried its luck.

This was to say nothing for the moments where she had thrown up golden walls, shielding them both from incoming blows and falling debris. And certainly, when fighting creatures that prowled in the dead of night, it was particularly handy to keep around a creature of sunlight.

So Kass had come to accept, albeit begrudgingly, the second pair of hands. He wished more than anything she didn't have such a smart mouth for what seemed like every occasion, but that was par for the course with her. Besides, she had pointed out, he was the world's largest hypocrite, so he would have to deal with it.

There was a deep metallic thunk, and the door was pushed open from the inside slowly. Kass aimed the flashlight into the crack, and May grimaced, squinting. “Put the light down, asshole. This thing is heavy.”

“It's not, you've just got the physical capability of a nine-year-old. And it's a torch.” He pocketed the light momentarily to help her pry the door open enough for him to slip through, and then handed the thing back to her to aim at the interior of the building. As she took it, she scowled.

“We're in America, dipshit. It's a flashlight.”

“Britain came first, ya booby.”

“Do not.”

The glass factory was not a complicated structure from the outside. It was a long, somewhat tall building, with several chimneys that once released toxic black smoke but now lay dormant. Its roof was a shallow convex. By all accounts, it was simple like a child's play toy—four walls, a roof.

On the interior, however, the simplicity was cut through with complex machinery that lined the metal and stone walls. The light cut distorted shadows on the walls as it slipped through old pipes. They surveyed the many corners with suspicion. There were too many places for a creature to squeeze into and hide.

With hesitation, May took the lead, leading the light around each corner. “This feels like a disaster waiting to happen. Do you even know what we're tracking?”

“I've narrowed it down to a couple nasties,” was his short reply, “but no specifics. Whatever it is, it's solitary, and it seems right at home.”

“That's not comforting.” She continued forward anyway. “Even a hint of what it might be would be more helpful, dude. Do you smell that?”

He did. The scent of rot was thick in the back of the factory. Kass grabbed the back of May's hoodie when she stumbled, keeping her from falling onto the oldest of the remains. The body had been mostly stripped of flesh, though what remained clung tightly to the bone.

May shuddered, holding the light out to reveal what looked like a massacre. “God, that's a lot of people.”

“Different rates of decay,” Kass noted, breathing far more shallowly. “Likely one of our friendly neighborhood crackheads would wander in to get away from the cold, and the beastie would have its next meal.”

“Why go hunting when food walks into your lap, I guess.”

They carefully stepped over the splayed limbs and loose organs. May grimaced at a torso that looked torn open, the innards shredded. “These ones are newer.”

Kass unholstered his pistol and took the lead, his jaw tight. The smell was worsening, centered at the base of a large vial machine. He circled it silently as he could, and raised the firearm in time with May's light, falling onto the freshest corpse, and the creature that crouched over it.

He'd barely the time to register the moth-like wings before he fired. The thing screamed wildly, turning to shriek at the pair of them, and took off up into the rafters where chimney pipes and metal machinery made nightmarish noises as he fired after it.

“Fothermucker!” he swore, trying to track it in the dark. “Get the fuck back here, you overgrown luna moth! I'll tear your stupid eyebrows off and feed them to you!”

Beside him, May was squinting, trying to direct the light up to the ceiling. Every so often she'd catch a flutter, and then it was gone again.

“I'll track it! Just reload, maybe find higher ground!”

She covered his back while he turned back to the body at the base of the machine. Grimacing, he examined it. The face had been mostly mauled away, as had most of the chest. It was fresh, as fresh as tonight, possibly. The body was propped upright, dressed in dark clothes, a large emblem on the upper sleeve, still intact.

He froze.

“I got it!” came from behind him, and then May made a startled squeak as he turned and slapped his hand over her mouth and pulled her down to the ground. The flashlight fell out of her hand and clattered and rolled, the light illuminating the coiled phone cord that hung from the lapel of the jacket, and the silver and black patch that had no letters, but was simply a circle, with three arrows piercing into it.

Foundation.

He was suddenly deeply aware of the amount of noise they had made in the past two minutes. There had been no sign of units on their entrance, and May had been thorough in examining the building, but the body was new, which meant they had very little time. Seconds, maybe.

Kass grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up to her feet. He said nothing, pulling her hard deeper into the building until they hit the back wall. There were doors here, into offices. Despite her protests, he shoved May into one, slamming the door behind the pair of them. The slam seemed louder than it should have been—he realized, stomach dropping, that the large bolted front door had been rammed open.

“Kass, what's happening?” May pleaded, hushed. In the dark, he could just barely see the anxiety in her face, inches from his own.

He pushed her aside to examine the room quickly. “What do you think, Maybelline? We weren't the only ones tracking this thing!” Fuck, why weren't there any windows? Wasn't ventilation important in a factory that produced this much heat?

Ventilation. Venting. Pipes. Kass lined the walls, running his fingers against the chipping paint as high as he could reach. No good. “Where's the torch?”

“I....”

He swore again. “You dropped it?”

“You didn't give me time to grab it!” she hissed back, holding out her palm. He watched the outstretched hand turn golden, then near blinding white, and it painted the room in stark light and shadow.

“Fuck me, fuck me blind, where is it.”

The vent was over the chipped desk in the near center of the room. He clambered onto it, a sprawl of stick limbs, and stood upright. Like this, he could press his hands right onto the cover. He pushed hard against it.

It didn't give.

“Shit tits!”

The smash against it with his elbow was a desperate one that ended only in a splitting agony down his arm. He nearly keeled over there, grabbing the limb and holding it close.

God, this was it, wasn't it?

May was yanking out the desk drawers and file cabinets one-handed. There was the sound of gunfire outside the door, which masked her own climbing on the desk beside him. She put her hands on his shoulders, and the pain in his elbow turned into pleasant heat that he barely noticed because she was climbing him to grab the vent cover herself. Her smaller fingers fit into the slots.

“Move, move, let me see if I can use my weight to pull it out.”

“You're too light,” Kass said sharply, but he climbed off the desk to grab her by the torso. He pulled her, and the vent cover with her, down to earth. The thing popped free, and she crashed onto the desk. The impact was loud, louder than the pained gasp she made, but for now the door stayed closed.

Kass panted. The shouting outside the door was getting louder. Closer.

“Okay,” May said, pulling herself to her feet. “Move your skinny butt, get up there. I'll follow.”

There was the slam and crash of metal just outside the door that they both swiveled to face. Kass recovered first, but he stayed frozen in place anyway, because May's expression was one of a cornered animal.

He'd never seen her wear that expression.

Fuck, she had never actually faced the Foundation. They didn't know about her. She was a prize specimen, a never before seen scip, her hands glowing with natural light. She was an agent's dream come true. Did she know that? Was she realizing that?

His face felt cold. He crossed the room, hand in his pocket. When Kass pulled it out, it was to hand his partner the PDA he kept with him near constantly. “No, you first. That tin can looks like a stiff breeze could dent it, with my shit luck it won't even hold my weight. You get up, get out. I'll go through to lead them off.”

“What? No. We can both make it--”

“Do you think that vent's still in the condition it was in the day it was installed? It's cheap metal, and it's probably buckling in places. Can you imagine, I get in Mission Impossible style, get halfway through, and then it just collapses right in the middle of thirty already trigger-happy agents?”

She didn't have a retort to that, though he could see she was trying to form one. “Okay, then we'll both go through, I can cover you.”

“No,” Kass said sharply. His heart was thundering in his ears.

“We're not splitting up! I'm sticking to you, that was the deal!”

He hissed through his teeth, eyes flickering everywhere but her face. He looked up to the vent again. Back to the door. How much time did they have?

“....Fine,” he said finally. “Let's try the vent. Christ knows I've ended up in more idiotic places to die. Go on.”

The tone with which he spoke was a tired, almost annoyed one. It was more like him, so May nodded. She shifted into a smaller form, casting the room back into darkness, and flitted into the vent system, calling out through it. “There's a couple different splits, maybe to the neighboring room, but I think it will lead out the side.”

“Good,” Kass said softly after her. He tossed his gun into the vent after her, and pushed the vent cover back into place. “You'll have no trouble then.”

“Kass? Hey!”

Little talons scraped against the inside of the vent cover. Kass pushed it further into place, his smile grim.

“Listen, I will meet you outside. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, keep moving. Do not try to play fucking hero.”

“Kass, no, no no no, this is stupid, I can help!”

His eyes flicked back to the door. “You know, I knew you'd say something like that. You're a fucking idiot, of course you would.”

Whatever retort she had, he stopped listening, hopping off the desk and striding to the door. He bit into his tongue, cracked the thing open, and peeked through.

The noise was starting to die a bit. Units were cleaning up the remains of the deceased victims. He watched a small squad of four surround a door similar to his own—another office, like May had said. Silently, Kass counted the seconds as they slammed the door open and dived into the room. When the last body had disappeared through the door, he dived out his own, ducking between machinery and the wall.

The factory was filled with too much light, now. Any flying creature that crossed the open space in the rafters would have been spotted in seconds, and brought down just as fast.

Kass was faintly aware that he was trembling. He tried to focus. He used to be so good at focusing, hyper-focusing, hyper-fixating (words he hadn't really understood until more recently, a whole other language about mental health he'd put off learning) but now, in the moments he needed to focus most--

He could see it, you know. He could see her throwing up shields, trying to keep the gunfire off of them as they bolted through the factory. He could see them being blocked in at the door, could see her doing something drastic to get them out. And hell, maybe it would get them out, but then suddenly a thousand pairs of eyes would be looking for her.

And if the SCP Foundation looked for you, you'd eventually be found. This was evidence enough.

“They'll keep you under the tightest lock and key. They'll shove you into the tiniest cell and poke and prod at you until they know every little thing you can do and then they'll leave you there.”

How long ago, had Dib warned May? Kass didn't know, but of the few things he did know, it was that Dib, for once in his obnoxious irritating life, was right.

Barely breathing, Kass leaped from shadow to shadow, trying to force his twig-like body into crevices too small for him. The blood rushing in his ears was loud enough that he was almost certain they would hear it, would look his way just from the sound.

Nobody turned yet. He forced himself to keep moving.

God, why was he doing this. Why was he in the thick of it, knowing there was no chance in hell he'd make it through? There was a tiny angry voice in his head, the one that was his, that sounded most like him and had never stopped being there, despite the kinder months. It was mean, and it was paranoid, and it was screaming at him. He was an idiot, he could have gotten out, and instead he was running out the clock. Had he even considered the result? Had he already forgotten the promises of D-Class?

Had he really thought he could outrun the Foundation forever?

It wailed in his head, while he ducked behind a metal cabinet, away from the moving lights. He told it kindly to sod off.

He was never going to get away from the Foundation, but she could. It mattered more, that she could.

He was an idiot, it repeated, softer now. He was an actual moron, he'd given in, he'd turned into a bleeding heart, and it had doomed him.

Kass had no response to that. He elected instead to ignore it.

He made it almost halfway through the factory before his luck ran out. Up on a scaffolding, somebody shouted, and Kass ran. There was no point to it, really, but like some sort of wild animal, he ran instinctively. There was a burn in his legs as he leaped over a metal table and hit the floor hard, and he was almost blind with adrenaline when someone finally tackled him from the side and knocked him hard into another vial machine.

He didn't make it easy, despite the inevitability of it all. He clawed, kicked, swung without looking, and he knew from the impact that some of his blows hit. From that, at least, he could get a grim sort of satisfaction, even as his head finally made hard contact with the ground and his vision filled with nasty black and red spots.

No, this had always been inevitable. Kass has never truly believed he would have some sort of picturesque happy ending, away from the Foundation. It had, after all, shaped him. It was too big a part of who he was, and he, stupid Kass, had made too many enemies inside it for it to ever really let him go. It had shoved its claws into his ribs years and years ago.

The spots were spreading across his vision. He tried to get up—a boot, he thought, pushed him back down with almost no trouble.

It was never going to let him go. This was the last time it was going to get to dig its claws into him, because this time, Kass knew.

He knew, struggling to stay conscious for a few moments longer, that this time, the Foundation was not going to let him go alive.

[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED—RECONNECTING...]

#may writes #may loves teslaverse #And In the End

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