#no idea if they wrote clara's line with that line from deep breath in mind

[thelovebat]

they were made for eachother

[unwillingadventurer]

Wrote a little Graham and Ian fic set after the most recent Doctor Who episode. Although you can read this independently, we did write a few other Graham and Ian meeting up stories:

The Waiting Room

Memory Lane

Another meet up

...

Wrapping his scarf around his neck and looking in the mirror, Graham O’Brien took a deep breath and glanced at himself, keeping straight and proud, more confident in himself than in recent times. From the corner of his eye, he swore he just saw a glimpse of her—his Grace—ever so slightly faded. But she was there and she was smiling. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Looking in his own bedroom mirror, Ian Chesterton sighed as he glanced at his own lined face and then at the empty bed behind. It’d been years now and each morning brought the same feeling of loss. For a moment he could imagine she was in the kitchen, cooking him bacon and eggs whilst doing the crossword. Then, for the briefest of moments, he saw her—his Barbara—ever so slightly hazy, standing by the bedside table. She was watching him as she used to. He turned to face her but she was simply a ghost-like memory.

…

“Ian, mate, how the hell are ya?” Graham said the next weekend as he stepped off the train and was greeted at the station by Ian.

“Bitterly cold isn’t it?” Ian said, removing a thick woollen glove to shake hands with Graham.

“Yeah, perhaps it was a bad idea to meet when it’s so nippy. You alright in this cold?”

“Oh, I’ve survived much colder than this.”

“With the Doctor?”

“How’d you guess?” There was a smile on Ian’s face and he fell silent for a moment. “Barbara and I were nearly shall I say… frozen to death.”

 “And that makes you smile?”

“More that we survived!”

Graham chuckled. “Well come on, mate, let’s get out of this cold, get a bit of grub and a cuppa. You had breakfast?”

“Not touched a fry up since Barbara’s been gone.”

“Fancy trying it now, there’s a greasy spoon down the next street if I remember this area correctly?”

“I’d like that very much and you can tell me what’s been going on.”

…

 As the waitress in the cafe placed down two plates of full English breakfast, Graham licked his lips in anticipation. “Have a butchers’ at that, me old son, cor this’ll warm your cockles.”

 “There’s a lot of it,” Ian said, noting how Barbara would’ve cooked much less. “She’d be asking me to watch my cholesterol.”

 “Alright for a cheeky treat though eh?” he said through a mouthful of sausage dipped in egg yolk.

Ian took a sip of his tea and waited for Graham to finish the bite. “So, you have news? When I got your call, I worried something might have happened to Ryan or the Doctor or that lovely young lady.”

“Ah no, we’re all alive and kicking, alright, you know? It’s just Ryan and I have left the TARDIS. We thought the Doc was gone for a while and then she comes back and off we go to another adventure. But when she asked us to stay, Ryan and me, well we made other plans.”

“You’d had enough?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Always the way though, glad I left and regretting it at the same time. You get like that?”

“I did at first but the desire to see home was far too strong for us. And remember back then we couldn’t get home at all. We didn’t have the choice.”

“Blimey, yeah, that is tricky. I just thought like what with you being a man who’s been in my position, that you’d know how I feel.”

Ian smiled. “First we bond over our much-missed wives and now…over leaving the adventure behind.”

“And the Doctor.”

“Him too. Of course, there’s adventure in Earth life too but adjustments are always difficult.”

“Yeah, me and Ryan figured there’s always something on Earth to fix. I’m so glad he’s here, not sure I could do it alone.”

“The person you shared it with is by your side that’s a wonderful thing. There’s not too many people who’ve experienced the highs and lows of a life with the Doctor as we have.”

“We’re privileged,” Graham said. “I can honestly say I’ve seen the best of people. My mate Yaz, the Doctor brought out the best in her. She does for all of us.”

“I know what you mean. But with the best of things, there was the worst I’ve ever experienced too.”

“Yeah, saw some terrible things that shake me to my bones.” Graham sniffed. “Look at us having a therapy session again. Wonder if all the Doc’s other travelling companions feel like this?”

“Oh, I expect so.”

“You ever met any of them, well except me?”

“Yes a few over the years, difficult to remember how and when and where. When you get to my age you lose track.”

“Get out of it, you’re a whippersnapper, well at least compared to the Doctor.”

Ian laughed.

“Anyway, if there are loads of us roaming about Earth and the universe, maybe we could sort of hook-up, you know, in the non-kinky sense and have a chin-wag about putting up with the Doc.”

“Like a sort of companion care support group?”

 “Yeah, I mean, we’re not saying we need therapy or nothing and we won’t talk about our childhood traumas and all that but just have a laugh and share stories with each other. And make fun of the Doc, compare them to each other like rate-a-Doc.dot com.”

“At least you can call him Doc, we were forbidden.”

“There you go, already comparing… and she’s a she now.”

Ian grinned. “Of course, I apologise. My Doctor had his irascible moments but on the whole I’d like to leave a positive review of him.”

“Alright, no one star reviews allowed.”

They both laughed and leaned back in their chairs, memories flooding into their minds, Graham’s from the recent years and Ian’s from so long ago.

 “Now, the question is, how do we find these previous mates of the Doc?”

“I have contacts and numbers if that helps.”

Graham whistled. “���Ark at you. Know people in high places do ya?”

“Oh, I knew the fellows at UNIT. The Brigadier was a wonderful man, passed away a while back now but through him we met a fair few people connected to the Doctor. And Torchwood paid us a visit when we got home in 1965 but I’m not supposed to talk about that. I also skype with Jo and her husband Cliff but they’re usually off on their travels. I knew Clara for a while but I’m not sure of her now but It’s one big family when you think about it, even though one half of us doesn’t know the other exists. It helps sometimes when I miss Barbara and feel so alone.”

Graham patted him on the shoulder and pointed at Ian’s plate. “Don’t forget your hash browns. You got to eat your grub me old mucker, we’ve got work to do. You’re stuck with me now. Us companions of the Doctor are a fam and we look out for each other.”

Ian reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Graham’s, patting it lightly.

“See and now your hands are warm.”

[tavi-hayes]

challenge one ~ first day of the selection

((i honestly have no idea how i even wrote this fic! this was literally written very very quickly so please excuse me for the quality of this, i don’t have time to write anything better. oh and writing out rps is not one of my talents. anyhow thanks to pia @brookelynnsanders for that super fun rp! and thanks to anna for the interview))

We are all waiting for the gigantic doors in front of me to open, well not directly in front me. The other girls are chatting to one another, excited for this whole thing to officially begin.

I, myself, don’t feel that excited. Waking up alone in a new environment, without any of my loved ones around, hit me harder than I expected. Plus my energy levels are a little low, probably because of the time difference with Denbeigh. Back home I’d be in the store right now, my belly already filled with food. But my life had taken an unexpected turn, and I wasn’t sure yet if it was for the better.

Some gasps around me take me out of my daydream, the doors had opened and now there was a clear view of the room inside. The other selected are swarming inside already, but I decide to hang back a little so I can actually breath in some fresh air.

I slowly make my way inside and have a look around. There are lavish decorations everywhere, paintings, flowers, crystal chandeliers. I don’t share the feeling of awe visible on the faces of some of the other girls. What I feel is more like disgust. I mean there are better ways to spend your money. But why would you lower the taxes for the Illéan citizens when those same taxes make it possible for you to buy that enormous Rembrandt?

Another thing I notice are the tables. Five of them are placed on a semi-circle with the sixth one in the front of them. That must be the table for the royal family. A maid taps me on the shoulder and points me to where I’m supposed to sit. How great, from my chair the royal table is right in my line of vision.

I take a deep sigh while making my way to table two. A familiar blonde is already seated, “oh hey Brooke.” She actually seemed alright when I met her yesterday at the airport. Therefore, I’m glad to be sitting next to her. It could have been a lot worse, what if I had been stuck with some dramatic, overly confident Two. Yuck.

“Octavia!” she replies. It’s still weird for me to hear people calling me by my name. I’m so used to everyone calling me Tavi. And the only person who called me Octavia hadn’t been around for six years.

Shaking the thoughts of my dad off me, I take a seat on the chair that has been assigned to me. On the plate in front is a little card with my name written on it in a very elegant handwriting.

“Looks like we are stuck together again.” I quickly scan the other girls from this table. The only person I recognize, beside Brooke, is the one sitting on my left side.

It was the hugely famous Shala Lie. What an honour it is to even be in her presence.

Everyone, and I literally mean anyone, knows her. Even when you have lived under a rock for the past 10 years, you would know of her banging song simply because it was one that got stuck in your head and you would be humming the melody without even being aware of it.

On my other side Brooke chuckles, “rather stuck with the devil I know than a stranger.”

“Amen to that,” I softly chuckle along, “how have you settled in yet? Are you liking your bedroom?”

“Ohh I love my bedroom. Full of plants and a wonderful view on the garden. How about you? No complaints yet.” Thank god for Brooke and her extensive answers. I appreciate someone who can keep a conversation going.

“The gardens must be beautiful, with so many flowers blossoming.” I sigh trying to find the words to describe my own stay. Actually telling her I’m not really looking forward to this whole thing doesn’t seem like the best idea. For now, anyway. Instead I sigh and say, “no complaints yet, no, though this weather,” pfft, “pretty warm, even at night.” While I give the room a quick scan, I notice all girls have taken their seats. My eye also falls on the buffet tables, but too bad it doesn’t seem like we’re allowed to go grab some food just yet. Then I remember the other kind girls from our plane ride yesterday.

Just as I spot them sitting on the table next to ours, Brooke says, “You don't like warm weather, never heard someone complain about the sun. Who are you looking for?”

“When you're used to freezing winds and coldness, this weather feels like a thousand degrees.” Clara and Haven have worse seats then we do, their table is right in front of the royal table. They won’t be able to escape from watchful eyes. Poor girls. “oh just the other girls from our plane, it's good to see they've survived their first night as well.”

The blonde next to me laughs, “why wouldn't they have? Know something about a secret attack?”

I turn back to face her again, “You never know who or what lurks around when everyone is asleep.” We haven’t met the prince yet, maybe he is some creep slipping in and out of our rooms through some secret passages.

Brooke and I chat a bit more before the royal princess herself enters the room. I hear some gasps again, girls staring with nothing but admiration shining in their eyes. The princess smiles at us, I don’t feel the need to smile back. Instead I mumble softly, “this is gonna take a while.”

“Good morning. I’m sure you’re all... eager to start seeing as you’re meeting my brother shortly, so I’ll try to keep this brief.” Well, if there is one person in this room who is eager it’s me. Eager for some food I mean. The princess continues talking with an elegant tone in her voice. With everyone being silent, her voice carries very well over the room. I can tell the acoustics are spot-on, a musical ensemble would really benefit when playing in such a room.

My band would sound a-freaking-mazing here. If I close I my eyes, I can already see us performing here. Though that would mean they’d have to fly in all the way from Winnipeg, costing a lot of money. Money that some of us have to work very hard for.

Then a door opens, some girls turn in their chairs to have a look. What’s that on their faces? Shock? Fear? Jealousy?

I turn my face in the same direction to see someone, a girl, walking into the room. I honestly have no clue who she is or what she is doing here but judging by the smug look she has on her face, she is not some scullery maid.

“Who is it?” I softly ask Brooke. Perhaps she knows something I don’t.

Turns out she is almost as clueless as I am, “She looks familiar, but I can't really pinpoint where I know here from...”

“Hmmm,” the girl walks over to the princess, they seem to know one another. “Maybe a friend? Or some distant relative?”

The princess doesn’t look too happy, a few deep sighs and some looks between the other girl and us.

Then Brooke jumps in, “But why should I recognize a distant rel- ohhhhh.”

I take my eyes of the scene happening in the centre of the room and turn to Brooke instead, “who is it?”

The look on her face is a bit unreadable, “Don't quote me on this, but I am pretty sure it is Prince Arin's ex-girlfriend.”

I have honestly never been the person to show interest in the royal family and their whereabouts. Though there is something inside me that clicks and a memory resurfaces. Gina’s voice calls out to me, ‘his engagement was called off not that long ago.’

“Wait wait, the one from the cancelled engagement?”

Brooke replies with a nod, “yep.”

Why on earth would she be here? Isn’t this like extremely awkward for her? One of us in this room is supposed to fill the spot next to the prince. Correction, her spot.

“Why is she pointing at us?”

I sigh, “don’t know. I wish we could hear what they’re saying.”

“Safiya doesn't seem too happy about the news....” the blonde next to me points out. And she is correct, the princess does not look happy, not at all.

“Yeah you're right, but the other girl, the ex, looks way too happy though.” I say as I flip my hair over my shoulder, “why do I feel like drama is gonna come of this?”

Brooke chuckles, “I wouldn't mind some drama actually.”

I join her, softly that is. I don’t want to catch any attention, especially not the attention from the ex-fiancée. She has a bit of a weird vibe hanging around her, “I agree, this selection could use a little bit of spice.” As long as the drama doesn’t involve me.

The princess’s voice calls out to us again, “table manners are very important, and before you can eat in front of the royal family, you must be aware of certain etiquette.”

With that my focus lands on all the stuff laid out in front of me. I don’t understand why there should be at least 5 glasses for just one person. And I haven’t even said anything about the crazy amount of cutlery. I feel bad for the people who have to do the dish washing here, what a crappy job.

“It’s like we’re back in school again,” a place I hadn’t been to in years. My school years had been with ups and downs. I seem to have troubles keeping my attention on one thing. Every time I need to focus on something my brain seems to riot, making me remember the most random stuff.

Exactly that is happening right now.

I can’t suppress a yawn, “I could use some food.”

Instead of paying attention, I engage in a softly spoken conversation with Brooke about her passions, ballet dancing and psychology.

Suddenly, she gets up. Following the direction she just faced, I see that ex-girlfriend looking towards our table. Brooke does a curtsy, to which I comment, “perfect curtsy, 10 out of 10!” along with some thumbs-up.

She winks at me as she takes a bow, “thank you me lady.”

That makes me laugh, Brooke also makes a sound. Though it’s not coming from her mouth. No, it’s coming from het abdomen area.

I let out an oops. That same thing has happened to me many times before. And always in the most awkward situations. Like on a nearly empty subway train, where you can’t really blame someone else.

“Oh look I think the princess has done with the lesson?” I couldn’t be any happier, given that I could use some food too.

The girl next to me replies, “I fuck- freaking hope so. I am starting to get hangry.”

Oh she is so great. Someone who isn’t looking at everything and everyone with heart-eyes, hoping to make the best impression. No, Brooke seems to be very similar to me, just throwing sarcasm around like confetti but still showing a lot of passion for the stuff she cares about.

Did I just make a friend?

Before I know it, I have my plate in my hand and I’m standing next to my chair, “let’s go!”

Together we make our way to the buffet. There is literally anything you could think off. From cupcakes and waffles, to broccoli and bacon. What is this place?

Brooke seems to have noticed the crazy amount of food as well, “how am I supposed to choose?”

“Just take a bit of everything,” I say as I use some tongs to grab a croissant.

My action doesn’t go unnoticed, “someone learned something today.”

“It might seem shocking, but I did listen to what the princess was saying,” next I move towards the fruit section, but keeping it simple I go for some apple slices, “well only partly but still.”

Brooke giggles at that, “didn't take you for a multitasker.”

Pfft, why do people seem to underestimate me? “I have many talents,” and many of them still hidden, hidden so deeply that even I don’t know what they are.

So far there’s a croissant on my plate and some slices of apple. I decide to take a little bowl filled with yoghurt and add some granola to it.

Brooke is waiting for me to finish, bless her. Her own plate has some very healthy-looking stuff on it.

We barely make it back to our table when Brooke starts attacking her food, something that makes me laugh again. “This is sooo good. Didn't think a palace would have such amazing avocados.”

I take one of the spoons from the table, not knowing nor caring if it’s the correct one, and start eating my yoghurt. “Only the best of the best for this wonderful family.”

After several minutes of eating, I already feel much more alive, “and now that we've had some food the day can officially begin”

I opt for the croissant, but I’m not sure whether to eat it out of my hand or if I should use cutlery. I decide to just take a bite. Not clever Tavi. Crumbs and flakes fall everywhere. On the table, on the napkin covering my lap, on my dress.

The girl next to me hums, her spirits obviously lifted now that she has some food in her mouth, “I guess the prince doesn't have to face hangry Brooke just yet.”

While wiping the crumbs from my dress, making sure no one notices the fact that they’re now on the floor. Oops. “So is food the way to your heart?”

“Not the entire part - but a good chunk of it.”

I instantly forget what I was about to say, when someone’s name is called. My eyes follow the girl as she is escorted out of the room. The first one to meet the prince, tough. She must make a good first impression for herself, and for the rest of the group. If the prince doesn’t like her there’s a huge possibility he’ll be in a crappy mood once it’s my turn.

“Would have preferred some liquid courage beforehand tho,” Brooke chimes next to me.

I laugh as I face her again, “now that would have been interesting!”

“Then everything would be easy peezy lemon squeezy,” she pauses for a little while, “but seriously - are you nervous?”

I shrug, not really knowing what to answer. “A little bit, he is a member of the most powerful family in this country,” flipping my hair again, I decide to redirect the question, “What about yourself?”

Brooke smirks at me, “so you are nervous.” But then she pauses again and I see her smirk drop, “I am not quite sure what I feel... On the one hand I know I should be scared but on the other... I just feel invincible... You know?”

We talk a bit more before someone calls out Brooke’s name. As she gets up, I wish her good luck. She probably won’t need it. If she is anything like the way she was around me this morning, then the prince must instantly like her.

I’m left on my own, alone with my thoughts. But before I know it my name is called. I quickly pick up a spoon to check if there’s some croissant stuck between my teeth. Then I get up, my mind set on making the best first impression as possible. Can’t have him send me home already.

I’m ushered into a different room. The first thing I notice are the cameras. I flinch, if say something stupid or insult the prince, the whole country will be able to see. I can feel my pulse rise, but before the nerves get the best of me, I push them down and lock them away, deeply hidden.

The second thing I notice are the luxurious decorations. Every wall is lined with paintings. I just can’t with these people. Don’t they have better causes to spend their money on?

Only then do I notice the prince, right when he stands up from the sofa. His eyes go to my name tag and then he gives me a small bow, “good morning, Lady Octavia. Please have a seat.”

The imagine of Brooke’s perfect curtsy flashes before my eyes. I try my best to copy it, but I’m failing miserably. Maybe I should have practiced when I had the chance? Oh well, too late for that. “Thank you, Your Highness.” I quickly make my way to the sofa and sit down.

The prince, the most powerful male figure in Illéa, sits down next to me. I strongly feel the need to put some distance between us, but it would be extremely weird if I would just stand up to sit somewhere else. Plus the whole country would be able to see that happen. I can already imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers.

He takes a deep breath, “how is your morning so far?”

It was perfect you know; I finally learned some table manners. And oh, did I mention your ex-fiancée paying us a visit. What a catch she is! That does not sound like a great answer. So I go for something vague instead, “I can say it has been very interesting so far, thanks. How's your morning going?”

He raises his eyebrows before he smiles a little. “I think mine has been interesting as well. Did you sleep alright last night?”

“Yes I did, the mattress was perfect. Though I was a bit confused when I woke up, I kind of forgot where I was.” Oh not to forget that my bedroom here is bigger in size than the entire first floor of my family’s house back in Winnipeg.

The prince frowns at my answer, but then he nods. “I get that. Being somewhere new can be difficult. What’s your home province?”

Geez, what’s with all these questions. Doesn’t he know how to have a spontaneous conversation. “Denbeigh, sir.” Sir? What are you saying Tavi? I push a curl behind my ear, “oh wait, I meant Your Highness.”

He smiles a little again, “you can call me whatever you like.” I’ll keep that in mind. The prince takes a breath and then adds, “um, what do you do in Denbeigh?”

Memories of my friends and family resurface, a feeling of happiness and pride washing over me. I sit up a little straighter before I blurt out, “I work in a music store, we have all sorts of music instruments and CDs, records, all that sort of stuff.”

“Oh, that sounds cool,” he says as he nods his head. “What sort of music do you like to listen to?”

“What makes you think I like to listen to music?” Oops, that sounded a bit harsh. I decide to add an I’m kidding, just in case he couldn’t tell. “I can appreciate every genre. Though I think my favourite would have to be rock music. What about yourself? Do you like music?”

“I do, yeah. I like alternative mostly. But I like some classical too,” he says before he glances around.

That makes me glance around as well, suddenly making me very aware of the cameras surrounding us. I immediately forget what he just said, “ah okay, yeah that is cool.” That sounds like a very suitable answer. Unless he asked a question. Shit.

I focus back on the prince’s face, trying very hard to forget the cameras filming my every move. His face crunches up again, “uh, how are you liking the weather?”

The weather, some might say it’s an awkward topic to talk about only brought up when in the need to fill a silence. It’s actually one of my favourite conversation topics. “Uhm, very different from the weather I'm used to. Denbeigh's climate is way colder, with a little snowstorm here and there this time a year.”

“Really?” Apparently, my answer caught him by surprise, “I don’t think I realized that. I’ll have to look into it.” What kind of royal person is this? Isn’t he supposed to be the heir to the throne? And he doesn’t even know the different climates?

I decide to hold back from saying that, “yeah go for it. Back home everyone is still walking around in their winter clothing, with so many layers. And here I can basically walk around in a bikini and not be cold at all.”

That makes him chuckle, “you could but the maids might look at you funny.” His reply surprises me. Based on that draw we all saw on tv, I thought he’d be uncomfortable, expressionless and maybe just a tad bit boring. But he turns out to actually have some emotions.

“And they will be blinded by the reflection of the sunlight on my skin, I won't put them through that.” Because let’s be honest, when is the last time I’ve been able to walk around in a bikini outside? Oh yeah that’s right, never!

He laughs a little harder this time, “please don’t, they’d complain.” Then his face is lit up again by a small smile. His laughter, his humour and his smile are all so shocking to me that I even smile in return.

Before I can say something else, he glances at his watch, “oh.” His eyes land on me again, “Lady Octavia, thank you for speaking with me this morning. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you too,” I say and I think I might even mean it. I join him as he stands up, “have fun with the rest of these interviews.”

“I’ll do my best,” he smiles at me again before I walk away.

As I leave that room, I come to the conclusion that this whole prince guy might not be so boring after all.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 21/21

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 21/21.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: “Maxence wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive either. When she had felt better, Jack had taken her to the cages only to find Liv with all the doctors she had by hand at the moment inside Maxence’s cage. They were all around him and Zach explained them that he had had another fit while he was trying to get their attention on what he wanted.”

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“I've got shame, I've got scars that I will never show. I'm a survivor in more ways than you know.” - Demi Lovato.

CHAPTER 21:

Rose was lying on her side next to Maxence. She wasn’t wearing a suit. She didn’t need it anymore around him. She didn’t want anything to separate them, not even the slightest layer of fabric. She wanted to feel him against her, to feel his fresh skin against hers. Her hand found his cold hollow cheek. The hairs growing there tickled the tip of her fingers as she traced his cheekbone. His face used to be so beautiful and now… now there were all those blue lines representing the vessels running under his translucent skin, the black bags under his eyes, the shape of his skull right under his skin. Now he was only the ghost of someone she used to love. This man beside her wasn’t her husband. And yet, she was there, by his side, stroking the features of this new face he was wearing. She tried to remember what he looked like before but the image was chased away by the real person she was seeing. Maxence wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive either. When she had felt better, Jack had taken her to the cages only to find Liv with all the doctors she had by hand at the moment inside Maxence’s cage. They were all around him and Zach explained them that he had had another fit while he was trying to get their attention on what he wanted. That had been shortly after Jack left. After that, he had been looking for his pen and writing a formula as if his life depended on it. Which was the case if they had to be honest with themselves. Jack had expected Rose to be staring at Maxence while the medical team was trying to keep him alive but her eyes were riveted on the pictures of the formula. Zach had screened it and printed it and Rose was fixing it, oblivious of everything around her. She grabbed the pictures, reread them. “He’s right. He’s fucking right.” And suddenly, she ran to Martha’s office. She was the one who needed to see this. Maxence had found the final formula of their cure. If he was right like she thought he was, he probably just saved himself from a terrible death. They would all say they needed months to test the cure if it was really working, to test it to see if there weren’t any side effects to it. However, Maxence didn’t have that time before him. If Martha synthesised that cure, it would be given to Maxence immediately. She had made a tiny mistake in her calculations and he corrected her. She was praying for it to be their final formula, for it to be the solution to the noctiagus. Both Jack and Tegan had told her to be ready but she couldn’t get around the idea that she might lose him. She was aware that his vital signs were terrible, that this fit had been the one too many. He was in a deep coma and no one knew if he was gonna get out of it one day. Rose hoped so. There was worse than death, it was watching him in this condition, forever. And since she was his wife, she would be the one who would decide if it was better to free him from all those machines and let him die or leave him like this with the hope he would get better someday. Everyone thought that killing him was the best option, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. How was she supposed to continue her life without him? That looked impossible in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine the day she wouldn’t be able to lie by his side and stroke his cheek like she was doing right now. Out of respect for them, Zach had rendered the walls opaque. He was keeping a close eye on Maxence’s vita signs and the cameras were still on but he wasn’t looking at them. It was their moment and no one had thought about preventing her from going inside unprotected. They all were aware that if that formula wasn’t right, it was Maxence’s last hours on Earth. Even if the formula was right, there wasn’t much chance for him to survive this, and if he did, there was no certainty that he would be the same as before. There would be serious consequences for him. Heavy consequences. There would re-education: physical and cerebral re-education. It would be long and difficult. But that was only if he was surviving. If he didn’t, she would need an emotional support all her life. If she didn’t end her life when his would be over. She wasn’t really thinking of it as her fingers were tracing the light wrinkles of his forehead following their lines to the corners of his eyes, drawing a circle around the mole on his cheek, stroking the line of his hairy jaw. She could feel the bones of his skull under her fingers and her heart tightened. He used to be so fit, on the limit of overweight even. He loved eating and sometimes ate too much, but with the times changing, he had had to adapt his diet. He still looked fine until that virus infected him. Until it turned him into this man she could barely recognise. “You’re not gonna give up, right? You wouldn’t dare leaving me alone, would you?” She didn’t get any answer. Only the soft noise of the breathing and monitoring machines were breaking the heavy silence of the cage. She dropped a kiss on his shoulder, close to the bandage still covering the bite mark that had caused him to be here. It wasn’t healing very well. His system was too busy fighting the infection to focus on such a tiny wound. There were priorities. “What will I become without you? Without my lovely knight in shining armour?” The expression always made him laugh usually but his body remained as still as if he was dead. He certainly was in some way but she refused to think about it. She pressed her ear against his chest, right above his heart, just to feel it beating, as slow as it was. You could force him to breathe with machines but you couldn’t force his heart to beat. It was still pumping blood so Maxence was still alive. It was these little things that were reassuring her. “Rose.” This was Tegan’s voice. Rose didn’t move though. They didn’t need her anymore. She had done her part of the job. It was up to them to make that cure now. That’s the only news she wanted to hear today, that the cure was finally done. “Martha has finished synthesising the cure from the last formula he gave us.” Once again, Rose didn’t move or say a thing. She was waiting for the whole thing. She knew what was coming of course. They only had one patient they could test it on and it was her Maxence. The idea of him being a guinea pig didn’t please her much but she wanted him to get better. Now more than ever. “Jack has given it to Peggy.” “What?” She had totally forgotten about the pig. With everything that had happened lately, she had completely forgotten about their mascot. She had completely forgotten that Jack had infected her and that she had survived so far. It was only right that they tested it on her instead of testing it on Maxence but she was so desperate to save her husband that fury filled her to the core. She jumped out of bed, rushed the the interactive wall and disabled the opacity of the wall. Tegan was standing right before her, behind the thick glass wall, his hand on the intercom. She pressed the button. “He is the priority.” “Last time he was given a cure to test, it almost cost him his life. I couldn’t take that risk again.” Not in his current condition. Tegan didn’t pronounce the words but he had thought them so loud that she heard them. Tegan noticed her anger but he didn’t show anything. The wrinkles on his face added to the dark bags under his eyes made him look older than he really was. His shoulders were stooped with the weight of his new responsibilities and the events of the last few days, with the anxiety and weariness. He too was about to break down just like so many of them in this building. “T!” Her yell brought his attention back on her. His eyes hadn’t left hers but his mind was far away. She didn’t need to be a therapist or else to see that he was gone in his thoughts and that they weren’t nice. He was still blaming himself for giving the wrong cure to Maxence. But there was more. Things Rose didn’t know about. She admitted that he was being stronger than anyone had thought he would be by accepting this role Maxence had given him. He had impressed them all and was having a hard time believing in himself. “What does it say?” “What?” “The cure, on Peggy.” “Oh, yes. Yes. It’s working. The symptoms aren’t completely gone yet but there’s a clear process of healing.” There was so much relief filling Rose at that moment that she didn’t hear the rest of Tegan’s sentence. The cure was working. That’s all she needed to know. Now it had to be given to Maxence. No other tests. Maxence needed to be saved. “Maxence can’t wait until the tests are done.” “No, he can’t.” “You must bring me a phial of it.” “Yes.” “T; you’re ignoring me.” Tegan put a hand in the pocket of his pants. The other was rubbing his face. Once again, Rose remarked how rough he looked with his beard, creased shirt half out of his pants. He wasn’t even wearing the same socks and his shoes were undone. He was so far from the trendy man he was in normal times. A tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes appeared on his face as she showed her the phial containing a translucent fluid. “Martha prepared one for him. Give him all the phial and watch over him. She’s preparing one for you too, just in case.” “One of the last notes was saying that the virus was transmitted through fluids. We haven’t exchanged any kind of fluids.” “Still, that’s a precaution.” Tegan didn’t want to take any kind of risks. He had no doubt that Rose would follow Maxence if he was to pas away. They never talked about it but years of working with them had taught him a lot about the couple. One could never go without the other. They were completing each other and they couldn’t function without the other. These last few days had been hard on Rose and this is why he hadn’t preventing her from running inside the cage when she was told he was in the coma. It maybe was his last hours on this Earth and she had the right to say goodbye. Except she wasn’t gonna do it. She was refusing to abandon him. Her devotion was admirable. He wished to live this one day, as harmful as it seemed, whenever something wrong was happening. Despite the situation, he envied them. He never experienced something as beautiful as love before. He unlocked the airlock and put down the phial in front of the second door. He didn’t enter the cage, didn’t look at Maxence. He couldn’t. It was too hard for him. He turned his back on the door to face the exit. He had his hand on the handle when he heard Rose speak his name. He didn’t turn around, just wait for her to say what she had to say. “Max and I…” she hesitated. “It hasn’t been immediate like everyone thinks. It has taken time before… before we became what we are today.” “What do you mean?” “Jack and you… don’t waste your time. It’s too precious.” “I’ll try to remember that.” Tegan didn’t ask how she could know for Jack and him. They never showed anything to anyone, always doing that whenever no one was around, whenever no one was looking. It was only relaxing sex, a brutal and pleasurable way to relieve himself from all the tension he was accumulating on his thin shoulders. But not only, when Tegan was trying to leave after sex, Jack always held him back. They lay in that bed or even on the hard ground they had just made love on, one more comfortable than the other, and they spoke. They spoke about everything and nothing and it just felt good. They felt good. Maybe Rose was right, maybe he should tell Jack that he liked these moments, that he was sorry to have pushed him away when he was moving forward. He had pretended he wasn’t ready, but Rose was right. He shouldn’t waste his time. He walked to Jack’s office; He could pretend that he was here to communicate more results, that he was here to update on Maxence’s condition. All his excuses melt when he stopped in front of the glass door: Jack was resting in his desk chair, his hands crossed on his abdomen, his head lightly back on the headrest, his eyes closed. He looked just as rough as the rest of the team with his creased clothes and the beard growing on his face but it only made Tegan’s grow and tickle his lower belly. Never thought he would catch this lovebug, him. Always thought he wasn’t made for love, him. And yet, here he was, observing the man who dared showing him that it was okay to fight back when you were abused, that it was okay to let someone show you kindness and love, that it was okay to be different. Tegan slipped the master key in the reader. The device beeped softly but to him, it sounded like the loudest noise in the world, or maybe his racing heart was being the louder. He didn’t step back, he walked inside. Jack opened an eye and his lips tiredly stretched into a smile. “What a beautiful sight,” he croaked. Tegan smiled in answer to Jack’s. It was very easy around him. His body was reacting to his, unconsciously imitating some of his mimicking. Jack was gonna ask him why he had gone here but Tegan pulled the rug through under him and left him totally speechless by dropping a kiss on his lip. A slow passionate kiss. Jack’s smile widened against his lips and his tongue tickled his mouth until he opened it for a deeper kiss. They pulled apart to breathe, their foreheads touching each other. “What was that for?” “It’s time to stop wasting time.” “I really like that.” Tegan felt free for the first time in over thirty years of life as Jack’s lips collided with his, as his tongue followed their soft curves. He lost it when he attacked the thin sensitive skin of his neck. No, they weren’t gonna waste their time anymore.

x

Camden McCarson was very unhappy with the current situation. First of all, Tegan Smith was dumping them in the middle of their open space without any explanation. It was already pretty annoying for him to be ditched that way but to be left without an explanation even hours later… He would have accepted a word from a trainee but Tegan hadn’t sent anyone. He hadn’t sent anything. So Donna and him were left in the dark. They were continuing their researches, not knowing if there was anything else to find in those documents now that they had identified the main responsible and the patient zero. Camden was clever, clever enough to understand bits of the formulas and notes contained in the boxes they had been given. Enough to understand that the solution was right before their eyes but no one saw it. After there had been that alert and they had been pushed into a crowded room for forty-three long minutes. He had counted every single one of them, His eyes were riveted to his watch. Donna had tried to take him out of this autistic behaviour – she was sure he was on the spectrum but never admitted it to her – but he had grumbled something to her, meaning that he didn’t care about what she had to say because he was being grumpy. Instead of insisting, she had left him alone in his corner and talked with the other persons present in the room with them. She was doing it out of curiosity, to pass the time. She hadn’t learnt much about the great Maxence Spitz. They all respected and admired him but none knew that he was currently in this building and fighting the noctiagus. That was a confidential information. She couldn’t reveal it. And now, the couple of detectives was back in the open space. Tegan still hadn’t reappeared and no one came to tell them what they should do now. Their work probably was over but they didn’t have any confirmation and Camden was really furious about it. Donna was putting away the boxes for them to be taken away. For her, it was over and they just needed to wait until Tegan Smith came to them. He was a busy man and she was more patient than her colleague. Well, almost. “This is the worst contract we’ve ever been given.” “You’re saying that only because it doesn’t go the way you want to.” “Even that Sheffield case was better!” “What did you expect?” she exploded. “Have you seen the world outside? Those scientists have been working day and night to find a solution and no one cares about that! They’re busy saving the world and you are being an arrogant prick again! Will you, please, for once stop only being a freaking egoist and be patient!” “Patience isn’t something I can do.” “They called us, kept us safe until we arrived here, kept us safe even in here, gave us rooms and fed us. What do you need to be satisfied?” “That’s an excellent question.” Both detectives looked up when they heard Tegan’s voice. The neurologist was coming to them. They could clearly see in the way he was walking that he was more relaxed than a couple days ago. He had taken the time to shower, shave and pulled on a clean three pieces suit. Donna found him very handsome. “He’s gay, Donna,” whispered Camden. “Doesn’t matter,” she retorted, with a slight kick in his ankle. “Yes, I am, and I’m dating someone. Now,” he clapped his hands together, “your curiosity is satisfied.” There was something different about Tegan. He still looked exhausted but he was somehow… relieved? It was a good thing because it meant they were going somewhere with their researches. He also looked grown up, as if this unexpected experience at the head of department had really been beneficial to him. He probably was gonna keep the job for a moment before Maxence could have it back. “Not exactly. We’ve had an interrupted conversation last time we saw each other.” “Yes. You’re right. Myrtle Appleton. I’m here for that.” Tegan sat down on one of the plastic chairs and invited Donna to do the same. She abandoned her work with the boxes and obeyed. She wondered what was new. “What I’m telling you now is confidential.” “You’ve said that already.” “Myrtle Appleton has come to us. She has worked with us in the last couple days and helped us to find a cure to the noctiagus.” “So you’ve find the cure?” “I won’t go as far as saying we have the cure but we have something that works. Results are there and they are positive.” “So you’ve saved him.” “I won’t go that far either.” His face darkened and Donna nudged Camden for his lack of sensitivity. The subject was hard for him, just like it was for everyone person close to Maxence. Why couldn’t her colleague be nice and considerate for once? “You have done what I hired you for. You even did more than that. You gave us names and reasons and that was exactly what we needed to make progress. We are very thankful for your help and your patience and I, as the leader of this leader of this place, am apologising to you for the inconveniences encountered during your stay.” “What now? Are we done?” “Your mission here is done. Send your bill with the charges and extras to me. We are welcome to stay until the situation outside calms down a bit. You’ll be escorted to your plane by our best elements whenever you will want to fly back.” “Free time then?” asked Donna. “Free time. For you, for me. Until better news fall.” “Can I see him?” Donna nudged Camden harder this time and he glared at her in return. He rubbed his side, where her elbow had met his flesh, but still expected his answer from Tegan. The scientist breathed deeply and looked up at Camden. His blue greyish eyes were staring at him. There was a time when it would have made him uncomfortable but he wasn’t that man anymore. “I agree that you deserve a special reward for your work, but I can’t allow that.” “Why not?” “His state of health doesn’t give me the choice. I have to forbid visits.” “Vital prognosis?” “Engaged.” “Does he have a chance?” “We’re being optimistic. But there will be consequences.” “That’s too bad. I would have loved having a talk with this guy.” “I’m sorry,” said Donna, glaring at Camden. “I hope he will be okay in the end.” “We all are hoping.” Tegan got up and shook their hands before leaving the open space. His mood wasn’t as good as it was when he came to see them but he was remaining optimistic. He had to. If he was losing his hope, everyone would believe there was no chance for Maxence and it wasn’t true.

x

Rose wasn’t as optimistic as Tegan was. She was spending most of her time with her husband now that she didn’t have anything to do anymore but she was leaving the cage to shower and eat and spend some time with Amy and and Liv and Clara. She had given the cure to Maxence, taken the dose Tegan had brought to her. It had been days or maybe weeks. She hadn’t counted. She was just watching over him and checking his vital signs every day. Zach and her were keeping a close eye while everyone was trying to restart their life. The cure was working and it had been created and distributed en masse all around the world. But Rose hadn’t left the lab. She was still living in the CRCD. She just couldn’t go back to her house without him. He needed the medical cares and she only trusted her colleagues to give that to him. A few hours after she injected him the cure, she noticed that his skin was warmer, that his skin was less pale. She thought it was just her, the fact she was laying next to him, that she was tired and hoping too hard to see those changes appear. But then, his vital signs were better, and they could free him from most of the machines surrounding him. She wasn’t the only one witnessing this: her husband was getting better. His body was reacting to the cure and chasing the virus away. His irises were back to their natural intense blue colour, the bite on his shoulder was just a scar now and his hair had grown back around the improvised surgery he had gotten through. He was better and better and yet, he wasn’t waking up. His scams weren’t worrying, His brain was working just fine – they couldn’t know what were the damages until he woke up. There was no reason for him to remain in the coma. No one could explain it. “Hi, Zach.” “Hi, Doctor Spitz.” Rose was just out of a warm shower and she had changed clothes. Her hair was still wet and she was pretty relaxed. Her last session with Amy had gone well – it was easier to open up to a therapist you were being friend with – and their dinner had been just as good. Now Amy was back to her flat in town and Rose was back to her husband. “Nothing happened while I was gone?” “His brain has had a burst of activity.” He pointed to the latest data on one of his screens. “I thought he was gonna wake up but nothing so far:” “Okay. You send all that to T as usual.” “Already done.” Rose smiled at him and gently tapped his shoulder to inform him that he was doing a good job as usual. After that, she did her routine. She went through the airlock, went through the decontamination process – no need to bring a new sickness to Maxence, the cage was keeping him safe – and entered the cage. She walked to the bed, slipped her hand into Maxence’s and kissed his forehead. When she stood up, she was ready to continue her reading of his favourite book – it was important for him to hear her voice every day – but her routine was broken and her heart stopped beating for a moment as tears ran down her face: Maxence had his eyes wide open and he was smiling at her…

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

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In the next chapter:

His name is Maxence Spitz. The Doctor Maxence Spitz. If his name sounds familiar to you, it is normal: this mister is one of the youngest scientists to have been published in the most prestigious reviews. Specialist in the cell biology area, he quickly became the head of the biology department at the Centre of Researches for Contagious Diseases. Lately, his works were focused on the noctiagus, this strange virus that had invaded the world and caused an early apocalypse. His team, composed of the Doctors Olivia Baxter, Clara Oswald, Tegan Smith, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness, Rose Spitz – his wife – and Zachary Evans, and himself overworked themselves during five years to find a cure to the disease ravaging the world. Last year, at the end of October, their efforts were rewarded: the cure to this noctiagus was found.

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[theroseandcrown]

The Rose & Crown: Chapter Twenty-Three (Alternate Ending)

An Author’s Note: I originally wrote the ending of Chapter Twenty-Three with an accompaniment playing in the background. My goal was to match the dialogue with the song as if the reader were watching the scene play out like an episode. It brings a new aspect to the reading experience and I would like to share that experience with you, just for fun if you’re up for it.

While reading, you may notice that there are some numbers and parentheses next to a select few lines of dialogue or text. These are time stamps. In this case, they indicate an exact point within a selected score (song) that the dialogue or paragraph takes place. Though everyone reads at a different pace, I hope that I was successful in getting as close to matching the words to the song as I possibly could. If you’re a naturally fast reader, you may want to slow down a bit and take your time reading the words. So, if you're interested in knowing where my inspiration for this next scene comes from, if you want to know what I felt in my heart when writing it, then I urge you to play this song in the background simultaneously with the very beginning of the scene.

*EDIT: You have to open YouTube in another page. Once you start scrolling down, about halfway through the scene, the attached link stops playing.

          (0:00) His grasp upon the handle, he inhaled a deep breath and called to arms all the courage he had remaining to help prepare himself for what he knew was to come. After everything they had been through together, after all the challenges they had faced, the hardest part was finally upon them; their final moment together. There would be no turning back now, it was only a matter of time. Releasing the handle, he slowly turned to face his companion. The sight of her presence before him relieved him of his held breath, being drawn to her beauty as if she were the very last flame still fighting to bring an essence of life into the surrounding darkness. Taking his place beside her at the console, his eyes gazed into hers as if he would never leave them.           “So, I suppose this is it then,” she spoke solemnly, fighting the flood of emotions attempting to gain control over her heart.           “I suppose so,” he answered sorrowfully.           (0:33) Her eyes fell shyly to the floor as she tucked her hair behind her ear and allowed a small smile to spread across her face. “We made a pretty good team back there.”           He matched her smile with his own and slowly brought his hand to her chin, carefully lifting her gaze to meet with his once more. “You were brilliant.”           Her expression brightened for only a moment at his affection. “I had a good teacher.” Her eyes passed back and forth to each of his as the reality of what they had done forced its way into her soul. “We won't remember any of this, will we.”           He sighed and held back the tears that yearned to form. “No,” he whispered, trying his hardest to stay strong for her as his hearts tore themselves apart. “The moment we leave here, every event that had led up to this point would have never happened. All that had been accomplished would cease to be. The paradox will be shattered.”           (1:04) She swallowed the pain rising from within her, feeling every bit of it burning her throat as she fought her tears in his presence. Attempting to shield herself from the look of heartbreak in his eyes, she glanced over at their child resting peacefully in her bassinet. She hesitantly approached her side and peered down at their sleeping baby girl. “Will it hurt her?”           “No, she won't feel a thing. She'll have no idea anything has happened,” he assured her.           “Will I ever see her again?”           “I wish I knew the answer to that. All I can tell you is that I know how deeply her parents love each other, even when they don't say it. Even though they should. People like us, we should say what is really in our hearts. Our truth was never meant to be kept hidden away. Never a moment wasted. No matter where we are to go from here, as long as we remain bound by the love we share between us, there will always be hope for her and perhaps more in the future.”           (1:37) Clara smiled towards their baby as the sincerity of his words warmed her heart. Even at the most difficult of times, he always knew exactly what to say. Lowering herself towards her, she closed her eyes and softly kissed their daughter's cheek, knowing this was goodbye. But maybe not forever. Perhaps there was still a chance they would see each other again one day. Returning to her natural stance, she took a deep breath and nodded as confidently as she could. “I'm ready, Doctor.”           “Are you sure?” he asked, raising his brow.           (1:55) “No,” she answered, turning to face him once more. “And I don't expect I ever will be. But I'll have you, and that's as good a place as any to start.” She smiled and returned to his side, to the place she knew in her heart she would always belong.           He returned her smile and took her hands in his, feeling comforted by the trace amount of electricity flowing through her fingers. Bringing them to his lips, he gently kissed their surface and gazed tenderly into her eyes, knowing that everything he wanted to say to her she already knew. Once ready, his smile brightened to the newfound enthusiasm taking place inside of him.           (2:17) “So, Clara Oswald. What would you say to another adventure?”           She couldn't help the grin that formed on her face at the offer. “What did you have in mind?”           He excitedly released his grasp on her at the question and hurried along the outside of the console, swinging the view-screen around to the other side as he circled it. As he animatedly began to fire up the engines, he looked to her with a new sense of exhilaration in his eyes. “How about the fiery rings of Collabria?! Or a holiday on Halergan Three?! Your choice! Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space!”           “Back in time for tea?” she asked playfully as she peered around the glass pillars of the time rotor to observe his elated expression.           “I’ll do my best,” he replied, smirking at the unmistakable look of wonder in her eyes he had missed so dearly as it finally made its return to her face.           “Just like old times then,” she laughed and rushed around the console to his side.           (2:52) “All of time and the universe, right at our fingertips! Anything could happen!” he exclaimed. His fingers energetically danced over the buttons and keys in front of him as he awakened all of the ship's systems.           “We best get on with it then. The planets aren't going to save themselves,” she teased.           “Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. What would you say to lunch on a distant asteroid, followed by breakfast in ancient Rome?! Then cocktails on the moon! Why? Because we're time travellers and that's how we roll!”           “I wouldn't have it any other way,” she replied, gripping the edge of the console in anticipation.           “It could be dangerous,” he grinned excitedly.           “I'm counting on it,” she grinned back.           (3:20) His gaze never leaving his companion’s, he placed his hand on the lever and held it steady as the emotion observed within her eyes captivated his soul. He took a deep breath and allowed every part of himself to be immersed by the vast amount of electricity between them striking the air.           (3:28) “This is it, Clara. Our moment of truth. The end of the line. There's no going back, no guarantees. From this point forward, our futures will be uncertain. Our fates left unsealed. One last pull of this lever, there's no telling what might be out there waiting for us.”           (3:42) Closing the small distance between them, she peered up at his beaming expression and hesitated for only a moment before nodding confidently in his presence. “Then we'll do it together,” she smiled brightly towards him and placed a hand atop his own with gentle care. “Just as we always have.”           He returned her smile and brought his remaining hand to carefully rest upon her cheek, taking in every last detail of her for all it was worth. She was every bit as beautiful to him as the very first time he laid eyes upon her in his previous form, and she always would be.           (4:05) “My impossible girl,” he spoke softly, allowing his fingers to brush over the surface of her skin and through her hair. He delicately cupped her head in the palm of his hand and lovingly gazed into her vibrant brown eyes as they stared back at him. He slowly leaned his head towards hers and stopped, their lips nearly touching. “See you on the other side.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers as a wave of passion came over him, savouring every moment of her divine taste for what could be the very last time.           (4:25) Gripping the lever securely, they pulled it down together and held onto each other tightly. The time rotor suddenly began to spring into action. Its mechanisms ascended and descended back into itself as the TARDIS signature melody of time travel clattered all around them. The feel of its engines purred underneath their feet as the living machine dematerialized towards their next unknown destination.           And then there was a flash of light…

[the--concertmaster]

Five

I felt like sharing this, although i really doubt anybody’s going to read it cause people don’t even look at my art, let alone read my full original fiction. Anyway, this is a short thriller that I wrote, and for the few people who might actually read this, enjoy! ________________________________________________________________ Perfection. 

Absolute beauty lay at my feet; porcelain white skin, half concealed by velvety black fabrics, a line of crimson running down a sleek, slender throat…Beautiful. 

I stood, admiring my work, mesmerised by my creation, yet I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t bask in this masterpiece longer, couldn’t indulge in the gorgeous piece of artwork, because I had to leave. Others didn’t appreciate my work.I fled, moments later, waiting till morning to break. My work will have been discovered, it’ll be all over the news. I’d go to work, act just as shocked and concerned as ever one of those naïve imbeciles. Nobody will ever suspect that I created that little piece of Excellency. 

Daybreak. I got up at 5:00am ready for work knowing what an aberrant day it would be. I didn’t even bother switching on the news or reading the paper knowing the headline already, “The Calendar Killer strikes Number Four!” That’s what they call me; my little alias. It’s so utterly clichéd and straight forward, but it was the most appropriate name to use after they finally linked together my…work. The people I work with can be so simple minded sometimes; so utterly boring.  

Numerous individuals brushed past me at work today, all flustered and frenzied. I just walked through the crowd, enthralled by this little bit of anarchy I created. I couldn’t help myself, I just had to smile. I couldn’t blame them, they are only human and fear is something innate in all. The Police examined the photos of my craft, wait for the other police to report back from the scene, hiding their terror with rage. The Forensics worked hard at finding evidence via swabs and prints collected earlier, rather pointlessly I might add; I don’t leave any evidence. 

I peered through an office window as the commissioner ranted to his poor lieutenant, complaining about how I must be stopped. I never have understood why though; those lives that I took to create lavish beauty were worthless, people will cry, and be upset and get over it. People really are quite pitiful. I stared at them longer, watching, waiting for a time to intrude.Eventually the Commissioner caught my gaze, still infuriated. 

“You!” He bellowed at me as I kept my calm composure. The lieutenant turned her head to face me, curiosity etched on her face yet still being so charming, charismatic... still being so enticing. “Get in here! You’re the psychologist aren’t you?” I stepped into the office not at all perturbed by the summoning. He thrust some papers into my hand; pictures of my previous three victims plus the dear paragon I formed last night. Among the photos were four notes, made from newspaper cuttings, each holding encrypted information of each of my ‘killings’, as they call them. They containing every tiny bit of information from where the artwork was made, to who the artwork was, to the exact minute it was formed. I gave them everything, but, of course, the police department were always to half-witted to understand the letter… before it was too late. Yes, I know, it’s clichéd, but it’s just so amusing watching them all squabble over those letters.

I pretended to examine all the evidence before stating, “This ‘Calendar Killer’ clearly fits all the properties of a serial killer. They are most likely rather introverted and commonly go around un-noticed by society; most likely this has been happening since they were a child. Because of this, they have a burning desire to be recognised, and go to the extreme to fulfil this desire.” I glanced up at the lieutenant who regarded me with interest. The Commissioner seemed far less concerned.

“Ok, got it, the killer is a loner; big surprise. Any ideas on what they’ll be doing next?” The Commissioner replied, clearly not understanding the importance of what I just told them. His loss.

“Obviously,” I answered, “As we all know, he’s the Calendar Killer. I assume he’ll stick to that. The first victim, Matilda Rose was born on the First of January, 1991. Alana Cross, the second victim was born on the Second of February, 1992, Madison Cadence, number three was born on the Third of the Third, 1993 and our final victim, Clara Lizeworth, the Fourth of the Fourth, 1994. Hardly a coincidence. Our next victim will be on the Fifth of the fifth, 1995.” The lieutenant seemed to wince, obviously disturbed by my statement. “Is there anything wrong, Miss Kyle?” I asked, fascinated by her sudden jerk.

 “It’s nothing,” she hesitantly answered before returning to her usual poise, “It’s just you said that as if you don’t care at all for the girls who were killed, that their lives weren’t worth anything.” The Commissioner seemed to examine me studiously at the lieutenant’s accusation. I didn’t react; it’s exactly what they wanted me to do; like I’d allow them such pleasures.

“When working with murder, theft and crime all day, every day, one learns to be obdurate, Miss Kyle. People die all the time, best not to cry about over them all,” I stated smoothly, not changing my tone or stumbling on words.

“Just go,” the Commissioner sighed, seemingly annoyed that I hadn’t provided much ‘valuable’ information, “you have work to do.”

I took my leave without another word, since for once the Commissioner was right about something. I had a lot of work to do. I had to find out the real reason for Lieutenant Kyle’s unexplained twitch. Everything about her reply was clearly just an excuse to escape telling her true fear. 

I shut myself in my office locking all five locks on the door, pulling up excessive files on my laptop. Profiles; all the faces of my beautiful victims, plus all the information needed to strike number five. It was true that nobody could have been a better target than Lieutenant Alara Kyle. She fit perfectly; she was charismatic, charming and beautiful; a paragon. Nothing could create better artwork. It was also awfully convenient that she was born on the fifth of the fifth, 1995. That poor girl, no wonder why she was so worried. It was too much of an excitement,

 I literally ran to the sweet Lieutenants office, knocking on the door quickly five times.

 “Lieutenant Kyle,” I panted, as she stared at me with a baffled look on her innocent face, “I have reasons to believe that you are in immediate danger.” Then that innocent look on her face dropped, the colour draining from it as I tried my best not smirk and to stay serious. “So you know?” she breathed so softly I could barely make it out. I nodded.“You need protection,” I told her.“No,” she sighed, exasperated, “no, no, no… This killer might not even know what my birthday is, I shouldn’t get so worked up about it.”Oh, how wrong she was. 

“Lieutenant Kyle,” I replied, trying to hide the excitement in my voice and keep a straight face, “Alara, you misunderstood me. I don’t suggest you go to any of the other police- you’re right in thinking that telling someone could lead the killer to you. I’m offering my protection.”Her eyebrows raised, a bewildered look on her face.

 “You?” she seemed so close to laughter I almost took offense. She wouldn’t be laughing soon.

“The killer is less likely to attack if you’re with someone else,” I shrugged. She seemed to be considering my offer, and we stood in an unpleasant silence for a few moments. 

Then she nodded.

“Alright,” she decided, looking at me with an uneasily. “I’ll stay with you tonight. What time does your shift finish?” I bit my lip to stop the smirk from creeping onto my face.

 “I retire at 5:00 tonight. Shall I meet you at the front of the station?”She nodded and I bid my farewell to her till five but just before I left her office I turned back to her and added one more thing.“Don’t tell anybody about this, alright? You never know who you can trust.” 

5:00. 

I met the Lieutenant outside the station, nodding to her to acknowledge her presence. We started to stroll slowly through the streets, to where I supposedly ‘lived’, Alara oblivious to where I was actually taking her. In reality, I was leading her to an alley that was now in disuse in order to create my art. We arrived at the entrance of the backstreet and I started to walk down it. The Lieutenant seemed more hesitant.

 “Just this way Alara,” I cooed gently, causing her to shiver, but she did as I said and headed towards me. Perfect.I pulled out my slim, sliver dagger and pressed it to her throat. A small scream elicited from her throat, a sweet escape of sound. I pressed the blade harder, drawing out deep scarlet. She started falling limp, just getting slightly weaker, ceasing to struggle; it was almost too easy. 

 Chaos erupted seconds later. A cacophony of sirens filled my ears; the static screeches of speaker telling me release the lieutenant. I could vaguely see the heads of a dozen guns past the blur of spotlights and flashing sirens, all cocked and aimed towards me.

“Lower your weapon Dr Blaine!” she screamed, as I heard another voice yelling through a speaker, “Let her go or we’ll fire at will.” I loosened my grip, temporarily distracted by all the noise. It ruined my little piece of perfection. They had stolen this moment from me.The Lieutenant had felt my momentary distraction, elbowing me in the chest, kicking me to the ground. 

“Did you really think I would just believe you like that? You yourself you don’t know who you can trust!” She yelled at me, before composing herself, a smirk coming onto her face, “Dr Blaine,” she sighed pulling out a pistol, cocking it at my forehead, blood oozing down her throat, anger, fear and hatred in her eyes, “You’re under arrest, for the murder of four innocent women, and attempted murder of a fifth.”                                                                                                         ……………………………………………  Cold air gushed around me as I stared around my cell. Rusted bars separated me from the rest of the world, everyone else enjoying the comfort of the ‘Calendar killer’ being locked away, thinking that the streets were now safe. They all were so innocent, so sweet… so delusional. That comfort wouldn’t last long. The walls had gawking gaps, which all called to me, seducing me to work at them. The bent rusted bars that covered my window already looked like they would give way. I saw a calendar on the wall and I smeared a deep crimson cross on today’s date. It shouldn’t take me more than five days to escape… five days… five.

[theartone]

A Study in Miscommunication - Chapter 7

<<Chapter 1 <Chapter 6

----John's POV----

I couldn't remember the last time I was this happy. I was giddy. It was ridiculous and amazing.

As we drove on, crawling through the endless London traffic I reigned myself in, bit by bit. I should be irritated that he snatched my phone from me instead of asking for it; he came close to picking it straight out of my pocket. He probably would've if I hadn't moved first.

I wondered if I should ask my other questions: What am I doing here? What do you want me to do at this crime scene? Am I even allowed to do this? Why me?

That would probably end poorly so I kept my mouth shut. If Sherlock hadn't thought of those things (especially the last one) I shouldn't encourage it. Besides, I'll probably do something else mortifying.

I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable but I ended up settling closer to him. I could feel the body heat radiating from his leg. I wanted to shift away but I knew if I did it'd look like he made me uncomfortable and I wanted him to like me. The fact that he did make me uncomfortable really didn't help. If he was as good at reading people as he said he'd read why I felt uncomfortable and that would be... uncomfortable.

Recognizing that my thought process was devolving I spent the rest of the trip thinking about surgical procedures and Grandma Watson.

----Sherlock's POV----

I managed to enjoy the silence for two blocks before John shifted and my mind came back on. I wanted to snap at him for interrupting me but his posture wasn't relaxed. That was surprising. He should be basking in the glow of... friendship?

We were friends now, right?

Should I introduce him as my friend to the officers? No, no that wouldn't work. They'd make a big deal of me having friends and that would be weird to John and while John already knew I was weird but there was only so much one person would take before it was too much and I became freakish.

Assistant? But that would imply that we weren't friends... that he was below me. I caught a mental image of John below me and cut off a growl.

I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts and realized my nasal passages were clogging.

That was bad.

Really bad.

Harry Watson may not be a drug addict but alcoholism was close enough for most people. I cursed my weakness. Sure, I had just gotten Lestrade (and therefore my brother) off my back but I shouldn't have pickpocketed that passerby. Or taken that little detour after hanging up with Mrs Hudson.

Why was I always so impulsive?!

On the same note, why did John bring out such strong reactions in me and my thoughts? A train of thought was running through all the different ways to put John's dirty mind to the test instead of being disgusted at the idea of touching another person. The heat from his leg made me crave pressing my leg against his and capturing it.

WHY?

It wasn't the drugs. At least, not entirely. I was clean last night and that was the first time I'd masturbated to porn since I was a teenager. Usually, if I brought it up the expressions of boredom killed my libido. And it had been an age since I'd imagined anything outside of that half-sleep state when waking up.

John was different.

John was perfect.

No, no one was perfect. It had to be an act. He clearly lusted for me. He was probably just making a play to get in my bed.

Then why the outburst in front of Mrs Hudson?

John clearly wasn't thinking long term.

What was his angle?

I started mentally listing to see what I missed: lonely, unhappy, unfulfilled, wants to be useful, wants to work, trained doctor, army medic, adrenaline addiction, bisexual (? is that even a thing? is he just closeted? focus!) bored, likes routines, therapist, trust issues, smart-ish, anger issues, conscience, polite, manners, Mike Stamford, blog-

Blog!

He wrote about my case right before Lestrade came to me. Was that before or after Lestrade forwarded me information? John's blog didn't have timestamps for the entries-

Therapist!

The only information available was "trust issues." It ensured that I looked into him more, that I'd see the blog entry, that I'd see him.

Coincidences?

No.

I'd dismissed it thinking it was all Mycroft and after dismissing John's association with him I didn't think of other possibilities. Stupid!

Of course, it didn't mean that Mycroft didn't set the whole thing up. But, in the texts, he seemed eager to talk to John. And Anthea never even hinted at anything like with the computer.

I looked at John out of the side of my eye; he seemed to be reciting a recipe. Flour, eggs... Oh, fighting an erection. Obvious. Probably linked to a grandparent or something.

Was it?

Was John just acting?

The anonymous commenter... was John a fan?

The real question was: Was John a murderer?

And what would I do if he was?

----John's POV----

Sherlock directed the taxi to pull along the outermost police vehicle and hopped out. He left the door open and I slid across his seat rather than try to fight with my cane in order to get out the door on my side, closing the door behind me. Sherlock started walking and I tried to keep up.

"Did I get anything wrong?"

I swallowed the questions I realized I should have asked, 'What the hell am I doing here?' chief among them, and answered.

"Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock sounded almost disappointed.

I resisted smiling, "Harry is short for Harriet."

Sherlock stopped on the spot and I took a few steps past him expecting him to catch up quickly.

"Harry is your sister."

I was forced to stop since we were within hearing range of the pc. "What am I supposed to be doing here?" I needed direction.

"SISTER." Sherlock spat, angrily.

"No, seriously." I implored. This was an actual crime scene. Suddenly it was all real and I was feeling very uncomfortable. How could I be of use here? I was about to make a tremendous fool of myself. "What am I doing here?"

"There's always something," Sherlock grumbled and walked straight to the blue and white tape, ignoring me completely.

---- Sherlock's POV ----

I directed the cab to stop as close to the scene as he could. John's discomfort was shifting from uncomfortable around me to uncomfortable with the surroundings. That would be useful. But, could be bad too. I need to distract him. "Did I get anything wrong?" Duel purpose of questioning my lead suspect and sating some curiosity.

The cab drove away without asking for payment. I frowned internally but John didn't seem to notice.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have."

Sibling rivalry. Probably older then. Boring.

"Clara and Harry split up, three months ago. They're getting a divorce."

Marriage has been on the rocks quite some time then. Both parties must have been more reluctant to admit the failure because of... children? No. The couple wanted kids but never had any-

"Harry is a drinker," John admitted reluctantly.

Family trait. How tedious.

"Spot on then." And boring. "I didn't expect to be right about everything." Boring, boring, boring!

"Harry is short for Harriet."

Oh!

Well, that's interesting.

They didn't want to admit the failing because they didn't want to add to the statistics. Possibly active in the community. The stress of unconventional sexuality and probable harassment lead to drinking. High paying job but constantly passed over for promotions, discrimination. Traditional family values, factoring John's tone when he said Harriet... John's denial of Mrs Hudson's insinuations...

Say something!

"Harry is your sister." Is that your problem with her? That she's gay? It isn't a sibling rivalry at all? No, that's not it...

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John tried to change the subject.

"Sister!" I hissed and resumed my stride.

John reiterated his question.

I needed John's honest reactions so I didn't answer him.

"There's always something," I muttered as I factored this new information into John's profile. She probably came out early, while still at school. It would have been the 80's... I've been going about this all wrong. Stupid!

Sally was watching the line. I needed her to speak first, she didn't look happy to see me. But that was normal. Her first words would set the tone of the interaction. I was hoping she had forgiven me but each step seemed to cloud her face. She was so smart normally, her choice in men was holding her career back more than I ever did.

Please be friendly, please have forgiven me, we were friends once. C'mon Sally. Please. I'm already weird enough...

"Hullo, Freak!"

Fantastic.

First crime scene back and: I'm high, may have brought the murder as my assistant, if John isn't the murderer he's interesting and will possibly be my new flatmate, he's the only person who I've even considered in any case and my mind is stuck in a sex-loop on a person who has problems with his own sexuality. And probably mine.

And I'm being harassed by the only person who's ever been pleasant to me on Lestrade's team who has... yes, hooked up with Anderson. Again.

If I stay professional maybe she will too? "I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Why?"

Be nice, be nice, be nice. "I was invited." Be nice...

"Why?"

Be polite, be polite, it's your own fault I reminded myself, be polite. "I think he wants me to take a look."

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

I let myself under the tape. "Always, Sally." Since we're not going to be civil I can at least use this to my advantage. I took a deep sniff. "I know you didn't make it home last night."

John moved closer before I was done with Sally and my hand went to the tape. John was going to come, I wanted to see his reactions, I needed an assistant and John needed a job. There was no reason John shouldn't come.

"Ah-ah-ah." She moved to stop John. "Who's this?"

That's a very good question, Sally.

Chapter 8>

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 11/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 11/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "I was a simple neurologist working for the great Maxence Spitz. This man is certainly a clever one. The cleverest of us all. I admire him; this is no secret to anyone, and working for him is a great honour."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.” - T.S. Eliot.

CHAPTER 11:

Seventh day of October. Day 1751 since the infection. Tegan Smith video log. Lot of things have happened since the last time I recorded something here. New results have fallen. New specimens have been delivered. Even the hierarchy here has changed. I was a simple neurologist working for the great Maxence Spitz. This man is certainly a clever one. The cleverest of us all. I admire him; this is no secret to anyone, and working for him is a great honour. He treats me better than my old boss who was constantly belittling me and giving me tasks that didn’t fit my abilities. Maxence let all my competences come out and exploited them the right way. His team is family to me and for someone who has grown up in an orphanage, that’s something really important. I fit in this team, in this family, and they accept me for who I am and never make any mean remarks but actually explain what I’ve done wrong and show me how to fix it. I’m evolving in the right way this time. Every step I take is a new progress to me. Well, until Maxence went out for this mission. I can honestly say that I hate the person who forced him out of his lab to go on the field. Catching a living specimen… It really was a stupid idea and a suicide mission. Only someone who didn’t know about the reality of things outside could ask for such a stupid thing. It could only go wrong and it did. It was a real disaster. Some would say that it could have gone worse than it did. Only three men are down on the ten that were on this mission. One death, two infections. To me, it’s a huge mistake to have sent them outside. Event if it was for a good cause, finding that damn cure, what we’ve lost isn’t worth what we’ve gained. Our leader, my mentor, Maxence Spitz, has been infected when a nightwalker bit his neck. Xavier died protecting him from a possible slaughter and Allegro… Allegro kept Maxence safe until they could come back here. Maxence has turned into a complete nightwalker. He has come back here in a crate and was transferred in a cage immediately after they arrived here. Allegro is infected though he has no symptom. He was transferred anyway. This obviously caused a huge mess in the hierarchy of our lab. We didn’t have a boss anymore and the chief of our security teams is down too. New leaders needed to be named. Maxence had picked his favourites before leaving. Wise man. That’s what I was thinking before I heard that I was now the leader of this team. Me, out of other people like Jack or Rose or Clara who deserved it more than me. Jack thinks that’s because Maxence had seen something special in me. I’m wondering what it is honestly. I’m perfectly aware that I wasn’t born a leader. I have the feeling that all my decisions are wrong. Was it a good idea to name Rory captain of all the security members? To have created that small cell working on Maxence? I’ve always been afraid of failing and right now, it’s worse than ever despite the support I have from the very same team I’ve created. Especially from Jack who is a better ally than I thought he would be with his changing mind and his extravagant personality. He clearly knows his limits. Rose worries me a lot too. We can’t deny that it’s her husband we’re working on and it’s seriously affecting her. We can’t pretend that we don’t see that she’s not okay but she’s kinda avoiding us so we won’t force her to talk about what is weighting her heart and ours. We can’t say that she doesn’t do her job properly because it would be wrong. She’s doing it more than right but she’s taking inconsiderate risks by always be around Maxence. We still don’t know how the virus gets from one person to another. If there’s any problem, we would lose another brilliant mind and this team would be lost. However, this proximity they share is also a good point for us. She was first to notice that Maxence wasn’t like any of the other nightwalkers, that he still had that part of humanity inside him. After further researches, Jack, Clara and I had come to the same conclusions. His DNA isn’t totally corrupted and his blood and brain are partly working like they used to before the infection but his primary needs like water and food and sleep are off. That’s what is making the nightwalkers aggressive and stupid. We had to sedate him to get clear scans of his brain. He was refusing to stay still even after we’ve tied him down which made him rather furious. He already was when we’ve put him in the crate to carry him to the scan room. It hadn’t been easy to catch him at all. He absolutely refused to come to us and had put as much distance as he could between him and us. He was avoiding us and when he felt cornered, he attacked. No one was harmed thankfully but we all were the witness of his intelligence. He ran straight to the palm reader. We haven’t thought of forbidding him the access because we never thought he would actually do something so clever in his condition. Zach was quick to lock the airlock thankfully. That’s a mistake we won’t do ever again. It could have had such disastrous consequences for us all. We were luck enough on that one. We may not have a second chance if we mess up once again. The sedative has had some interesting effects on his system. The humanity, what’s left of it in him, is increased by the sleep. I’ve noticed it on the scans before and after the sedative. Rose had noticed that his eyes were slightly losing their black colour. The original colour of his irises was showing up. It disappeared with the last effects of the sedative. I’ve seen that Rose recorded another entry in her video logs, an entry where she gives details about his vital signs while he was sedated. They weren’t normal but they weren’t very abnormal either. They were in-between but it’s a good sign for us. If we can ‘force’ his brain to feel the primary needs again, it could maybe reverse the process. It’s not gonna be an easy task obviously but we already fixed his sight today. We have forgotten that Maxence was short-sighted with all of that. It didn’t get better with the noctiagus but we gave him his glasses back and he looked better with them on. As if it had really changed something for him. We’ll see the results in the near future. I won’t post this video on the public interface. It’s more like an entry to my diary than an actual scientific report and it’s better if no one sees it. I just needed to vent and it’s done. End of the talk. Tegan sniffled and wiped his nose with a paper tissue. He was being emotional again. He hated being like this. He took a deep breath in to try and release the tension from his shoulders. This promotion was hard to live and he was restlessly wondering if he was doing things right. It even kept him from sleeping. He was exhausted but just couldn’t sleep. Not like Maxence who didn’t feel the need to sleep. Tegan rubbed his face and met the stubble growing there. He hadn’t shaved in days. They would all look wild if they didn’t have time to take care of themselves. They probably wouldn’t take the risk to shave Maxence. It would be giving him a weapon and it was dangerous to let something like a blade in his hands. Who knew what he would do with it? He was compelled to live with the growing beard on his face. Tegan smiled sadly at the memory coming up to his mind. He was remembering the first time he had met Maxence. A day he would never forget. Back then, he was working in the NINE, one of the most famous labs of this country. NINE stood for National Institute of Neurological Engineering. At first sight, you would say he was on his field but if you looked closer, he clearly wasn’t. His job there was only to keep his eyes on a screen and read lines of codes that weren’t related to neurology. He had learnt how to decipher those data and to report whenever there was a problem in a technology he could only dream of using.

– Flashback –

Tegan was leaning in his chair, bored. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of this screen in hours and there was nothing to report. This machine was working too well and it was burning his eyes to stare at the screen. He was having a hell of a headache once again. He had developed a tendency to violent migraines with this job. Even the meds he was taking couldn’t relieve him and he didn’t have the time to go and see a doctor. If he was absent for one second, they would fire him and he couldn’t lose this job even if they were treating him miserably and barely paying him. That’s the only thing he had at the moment and he didn’t want to lose the small flat he was renting. He rubbed his eyes and face as if it was gonna take his pain away. He hadn’t shaved in days and the hairs growing there were itching. It was the least of his troubles though. He had the feeling that someone was hammering nails right behind his eyes. How could he work correctly in such a condition? He glanced at the screen. Still no sign of a flaw in the codes. He grabbed the scientific magazine he had bought in the morning. With all of that, he hadn’t had the time to even open it. He had bought it because there was an article about Maxence Spitz’ new project and works. The man himself had a picture on the front. In a small frame on the side, but still. He admired this man and what he had done so far in scientific community. He was the greatest genius of this era. His colleagues here were mocking him, pretending that he wanted to be in a relationship with Maxence. It wasn’t like he would refuse if the man wanted to have a one-night affair but he knew that Maxence Spitz was straight and married with another genius of this planet. Anyway, for Tegan, Maxence would be the scientist who would change the whole world with his discoveries. He was so clever he could find a cure to the biggest and most lethal diseases this planet could count. And there were a lot of them. He put the magazine aside when he heard a knock on the door. It was rare to have someone knocking on his door. Not because he didn’t have many visits – the developers were maybe afraid that he would screw their precious codes up and were always checking – but because no one thought necessary to show him a bit of respect by knocking on his door while he was working. Sometimes, he was locking it just to be in peace and he was being yelled at for this but they weren’t sacking him for this. It wasn’t big enough of a mistake. Today was one of these days. He sighed and got up. He unlocked the door, opened it… and stumbled backward at the person standing before him. He thankfully managed to grab the side of the door to keep on his feet but the man before him was divided between a worried and a bemused face. “Are you alright?” Tegan would have recognised that northern accent anywhere. He had gone to lots of conferences just to hear the theories of its owner. Maxence Spitz. Doctor Maxence Spitz was standing before him. “Y-Yeah,” stuttered Tegan. “You surprised me. Didn’t expect you to be behind that door. Not many people knock around here.” “They should. Surprising a scientist while they’re working could be dangerous.” “I’m afraid I’m not doing anything that dangerous.” “That’s why I’m here. Can I come in?” “Sure.” Tegan let go of the door and gestured to Maxence to come in. He was slightly shorter than Tegan thought he was but he was compensating with his presence. This man certainly knew how to impose himself. Tegan offered him his desk chair and sat on an old wobbly stool. He was nervous and he had to stick his hand between his knees so it wouldn’t show. Maxence took his time to glance around him and his eyes fell on the magazine. He grabbed it and smiled. “They begged me for this interview,” he chuckled, opening the magazine to the page he was. “I honestly hate being the centre of attention. My wife thought it would be a good idea though. Like wearing this awful tie.” He played with it for a moment. He hated ties as much as he hated suits but Rose had forced him to wear one for this interview. He wasn’t very comfortable in those clothes and it was clear. Tegan moved nervously on his stool. He was wearing the same tie. He cleared his throat . Maxence looked up at him and his face showed how embarrassed he was. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that it was awful. It’s just that I’m not a suit and tie man. I’d rather wear a t-shirt and jeans. But it’s not professional.” Tegan was surprised to see that the man he admired was someone so normal. Someone like him in the end. It was quite funny to witness but if he didn’t get back to work, he would be in troubles. “Don’t you mind me interrupting you but… you said you were here for professional reasons… implying me?” “Oh… yes! Yes, absolutely! Like I’ve said to these reporters, I’m working on a new project, which is still confidential, and I’m looking for my own team members. It appears that you’re the best neurologist in the area. I’ve come here to poach you. Your director doesn’t know the chance he has to have someone as talented as you since he’s not using your potential the right way.” Maxence pointed to the lines of codes still flashing up on the computer screen. Not a job for a neurologist. “You can have me. Right now. I take the job.” Working for him would be a big honour and Tegan would make sure to never disappoint him if he was taken in his team. Maxence chuckled at Tegan’s eagerness and serious. He definitely was motivated for the job. “Your contract is ready on my desk. I’ve just come here to let your director know he was gonna lose an important member of his lab and to meet you personally.” Tegan was so surprised to be hired so easily without any job interview or tests that he would have fallen if he wasn’t sat. Maxence stood up and stretched his body. He gave a smile to Tegan and held a hand out to him. The neurologist shook it absently. He was too shocked by the situation. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 8, in my office. No obligation to wear a suit or to be clean-shaved, unless you like it.” Tegan acquiesced. It was like a dream come true. He had a new job. A new job with a boss treating him decently. A new job where he would do what he loved. And all of this was thanks to Maxence Spitz. God must have heard his prayers.

– Fin –

x

Camden McCarson was an old grumpy Scottish man. It was the description he was making of himself of course. He would rather think that he had attack eyebrows because the world was doing everything to make him cross. It wouldn’t come to his mind that he was just a bitter paranoid man who had suffered from so many ordeals in his life that he preferred being as pessimistic as possible and making mean comments whenever people were getting on his nerves. He was always on the move, always travelling as far from home as he could. To the question what was he looking for, he replied that he would know when he would have found it. So far, he couldn’t say he had found anything that was fitting his expectations. He still couldn’t put words on what he was looking for but the adventures his job was creating was enough to make him forget. He was making money by finding stuff and people that seemed to have disappeared from Earth. Once, he was working on a rather tricky case that had led him in the middle of Chiswick – something about a sat nav who had been stolen from the army, a sat nav full of secret information. That was the day he met Donna Noble. This red-haired woman had burst out in his life like a fury because he supposedly had collided with her car. It had appeared – after she was done yelling at him and hitting him – that they were working on the same case. Him, because he had been hired for it. Her, because she was bored in her life and had heard of this very important sat nav lost in nature. The medias had heard the rumours of this disappearance and it was all over the television and newspapers. Everyone was looking for a person to blame and the medias were worsening the situation. Of course Camden’s bosses had already tried to reach him but he hadn’t taken the calls. He wasn’t the one who had leaked the information and he certainly wasn’t gonna let anyone yell at him for something he hadn’t done. He would rather be sacked than being accused of something. His bosses knew better than to sack him though. He was their best element and he could be insubordinate and impolite and grumpy as much as he wanted because they wouldn’t take the risk of losing someone like him. So, when he had brought Donna to them asking for her to be his sidekick – ‘I’m no one sidekick!’ had she barked at him – because she was really good – not better than him but close enough – they had hesitated only the time to hear their final report on the matter they had worked on together. She had been hired based on those results. Camden wasn’t an easy man to work with but he had quickly learnt that Donna was no woman to be led around by the nose. She would rather have a go at him than accept his orders. They were always bickering on how to do some things but their work was done right and that was what mattered the most in the end. Plus, Donna knew she was indispensable to the man. She had taken him out of the loneliness he was burying himself into and she was often checking on him and taking him out of his office whenever he was locking himself in there for days just looking for a new interesting case, waiting for his boss to call him for a new inquiry. He reminded her a lot of Sherlock Holmes when he was like this. But mister Holmes was far from being as good and clever and arrogant as Camden McCarson could be. His office wasn’t what Donna had expected either. She was imagining him more in an old room with ancient furniture, libraries full of books and secrets, and maybe some painting portraits of past family members on the wall. His name seemed to have some nobility in it after all, but if it had any, Camden McCarson didn’t care at all about it. He was living his own life with his own rules and no one could change that. His office was surprisingly modern, all in stainless steel and blue and orange neon lights. He indeed had libraries full of ancient books and it was fitting strangely well in the middle of this office. There were two tables with four computers on them and flat screens hung on the wall just above. The computers were analysing the deep and dark web and the screens were silently displaying the news from all around the world. The best way to find good news to use. To complete it all, there was a huge desk in the bottom of the room. It was facing the door and turning its back to the large window although the owner of the place loved turning around to catch the spectacle of the sky when the sun was either rising or going down the horizon. He could also spend nights looking at the stars through the lens of the telescope set by the window. Camden McCarson certainly was a man full of knowledges and a great collector of weird objects that didn’t make sense to the beginner she was. She had learnt that asking questions could sometimes give answers. As long as she wasn’t asking about the woman that was on the picture he kept on his desk. He never replied to this question but she had often seen him lost in his thoughts while he had his eyes on this photography. When she stepped in his office that day, he was leaning in his chair, his feet crossed on his desk, his hands folded behind his head. A smile grew on the corner of his lips when he saw her. It was night outside but thankfully, he had offered her a room in the gigantic manor he was living in so she hadn’t had to go through the dangerous streets to meet him when he had called her at over 4am. Which was making rather moody to be honest. She hated being woken up by the mad man. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she grumbled. She had taken the time to pull on some clothes before coming. He would never seen her in her pyjamas. He was already being an arse with her normal clothes so if she did show herself to him in pyjamas, he would either choose to ignore them or make a comment that would infuriate her. Better not take that chance. “Barely.” “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” To be honest, she had never seen him sleep. Whenever she was seeing him, he was up to something and he never seemed tired. But once again, it was a question he never really answered to whenever she dared asking him why he would stay up all the time. “What is so urgent that requires me to be up in the middle of the night?” “We have a new case.” “You’ve finally found something worth your talent?” “Someone sent me an email from London.” “There are survivors somewhere in the capital.” “Seems like it. Listen to this.” He brought his laptop closer to him and started reading the mail he had left opened. “Mister and Miss McCarson…” “Hm,” disapproved Donna. “I know, as if we could ever be married or even related.” “Oi, watch it old man!” Camden preferred ignoring the remark and not raising it. Their clients were always thinking that they were related in some way because of their ‘similar personalities’. They must be really blind to think such a thing of them. They were barely friends so to think they were relatives or married… “My name is Tegan Smith and I’m working at the London Centre of Researches for Contagious Diseases. As you might know, there is a virus spreading in the world and all the labs around the world have been requisitioned to find a cure against it. I can’t say more through this mail as our mission has to remain a secret to the people who aren’t working on this case. However, my colleague, the doctor Jack Harkness, has found something that needs to be examined by a professional detective. He highly recommended your services. Would you agree to a meeting with the doctor Jack Harkness and myself in the days to come in our lab? Please, let me know your answer quickly. Patiently waiting for your reply. T.S.” “This guy sounds like a newbie promoted to the head of his team by these dark times.” “What surprises me the most is that I know Jack very well and I also know he’s been working for one of the most brilliant minds this world can count.” “And that mind isn’t Tegan Smith.” “Oh, no. That’s why I wondered what happened to the real boss of this place.” “So, you wanna go just to see what he’s up to?” Camden put his computer aside and uncrossed his legs. He put them down and bent forward in his chair, leaning his head on one hand. He gave Donna another smirk. This was one of the reasons, yes. Maxence Spitz was a very interesting man and Camden couldn’t resist fighting another brilliant mind. He liked challenges and this looked like one. “We don’t have much work lately, don’t you agree?” “I’m not surprised at all since the world is coming to an end. Do you ever watch your own screens?” She pointed her thumb on the screens displaying the news from all around the world. Different channels but the news was the same: the virus was spreading, there were less and less survivors, less and less hope to find a cure. Some were even saying that the end of the world had come like the Mayas predicted millions of years ago. How many times the end of the world had been announced over the decades? It would be astonishing to have one being true in the end. “So, are we taking this case?” “We are.” “I’m preparing our luggage.” Donna quickly left the room. She wasn’t reassured by the fact they would have to travel through Scotland and England to reach that lab requiring their help but she guessed that security means would be established for them to travel safely. Especially since the situation had gone so critical in the last few days. To the doctor Tegan Smith’s attention: My associate, Donna Noble, and myself have examined your request and concluded that we were accepting the case you’re offering us. We can be there tomorrow. We leave to you all the organisation of the security means to guarantee our safety until we reach your lab. Cordially, McCarson & associates. The mail was sent and now, Camden was too thrilled to even find sleep. This mission was a real opportunity for Donna and himself. They better not screw it all up. So, while Donna was taking care of their luggage – more hers than his since she wasn’t his dogsbody – he made sure they would have a flight for London with his personal jet. No need to take risks and travel in public planes. They had to get to London quickly and discreetly and he hoped that Tegan Smith would make sure their security was guaranteed or it would cost him a lot…

To be continued...

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In the next chapter:

So she had been promoted into their private team. It was no surprise to Rose. Adam had been on the field, so had Allegro and Emily and Kyle. With the events of the last few days, they would need a psychological help. They only had doctor Amy Burnley. She hadn’t been hired by Maxence but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good. Rose just wasn’t into therapists. She had seen a lot of them after what had happened to her over fifteen years ago. They wanted to help her they had said but none of them was able to do so. Only Maxence had been able to and now that he wasn’t there anymore, she had no one to protect her against her demons.

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