Pawn Crossing

The Illithid, the Ood's evil cousins, come to visit Earth. Harry Sullivan and Jack Harkness are part of the team sent to deal with them and in the mean time, Sarah Jane is zombie hunting in Wales, but not everyone and everything is what it seems.

Warnings: Torture (mildly graphic, note rating), teen death (somewhat graphic, note rating), adult death (non-graphic). Harry, Sarah and Jack live.
Notes: With big big thanks to my sounding boards and betas, Anne, Lil, Helen and Jen. Anne and Lil especially have handheld me through this one, when my muse stopped dictating.

Art by mad_jaks (LJ | e-mail | comment) and mizz_destiny (LJ | comment)

Pawn Crossing

Act 1, Scene 1

It was still dark when I got to Porton Down, the sun only just starting to peek over the horizon. It had been a long but uneventful drive, thankfully, to top off a very long day. My biggest worry so far was not the briefing I had to look forward to, or even the mission that I was sure was to follow. That much had already been implied when I spoke to them three days ago, when they confirmed that they would be needing my services. Just after I'd had dinner with Adam and Megabyte, two ..ah, shall we say unusual friends of mine, and just after Sarah Jane's call.

Sarah Jane had finally contacted me, and told me over a very bad connection that she had been zombie-hunting in the quarries of Wales. I was sure she could take care of herself, as she has been doing so for years (despite repeated offers to the contrary), though I was slightly worried as she sounded both hurried and harried. She had the Doctor, though, to keep her safe, as he had shown up a few months ago. Of that, at least, I was sure. He would do whatever he could to to keep her safe, I guess I should feel relieved at that thought.

What worried me most at the moment was my dog, Sammie. Oh, not physically; I knew both Adam and Megabyte would take care of her physical and mental needs and probably spoil her rotten, and the vet still owed me one. If anything happened to me she would be well cared for. At the same time, though, her previous owner had wanted her put down for as little as getting hit by a car, obviously not caring enough about her to go to that expense. I don't know what other expenses he had neglected to take, though she seemed well enough overall as well as trained to a certain degree. How she would take being palmed off again albeit into their temporary care, especially after such a short time, I didn't know. At times like these I think I should have known better than to adopt a puppy. I was still on recall duty after all. Not that I had honestly expected to be called on ever again. I'd done my bit for Queen and Country long ago. I was getting old now, they have younger, fitter and more modern doctors if they needed them.

Military recall is sometimes incomprehensible. Especially with the fiasco last time when I was organising. I couldn't help but shudder. Never again. Sending young men of the same age sons of mine could have been, had I have had them, off to die in ways I wouldn't wish on anyone wasn't something I could do again. Maybe in that sense it was better this way. Last time I'd left a young woman without her fiancé, a sister without her older brother, and a family of three without a father and husband. Compared to that I had a dog, a few friends, and a dying aloe plant. Maybe I was the better choice after all.

Still I mused as I showed the gate guard my ID and was waved over to a secure area where I knew the rental car and myself were about to be searched. I hadn't bothered packing, leaving everything bar ID and the carkeys and rental agreement behind, as per my orders. Everything I needed would be provided. That was a rather nice way of saying 'nothing will be traced back to you'. As they tagged my watch, driving licence and rental agreement together for retrieval when I returned, I felt a slight sense of loss. That watch had been a gift from Sarah.

It didn't take them long to drive me to the main compound. It hadn't improved much over the years, still being a large, drab concrete building that in my opinion resembled a large parking garage from the seventies.

Inside I was ushered past a second and a third checkpoint and once they had decided I hadn't tricked the gate guards but was really Harold Sullivan, MD, they let me through.

Coffee was being served by a seaman in the meeting room, and the men inside were talking about inconsequential things which might just as well have been the weather when I came in. It appeared I was the last to get there as there was only one seat open, which I was led to before my escort left. With just us in the room, the meeting started in earnest.

"Doctor Sullivan, I'm glad you could make it," the general said. He then introduced me to the other people around the table; Jack Harkness from Torchwood, who I remembered from the last time Sarah got into trouble, Rebecca Stephenson from MI-5 Intelligence, Shane Collins from UNIT, acting as our tactical specialist (a shorthand I believe we tend to use for 'human arsenal' as well as the person doing strategic planning in UNIT), Ben Richardson from NATO for communications and, if necessary, media relations and procurement, and Samantha Beckett from the Navy for infiltrations. Me he introduced as "Doctor Harold Sullivan, formerly Navy, UNIT, NATO, MI-5 and one of the local experts at 'the Weird'." I wondered if this was a new technical term.

The body of the meeting was extremely short, and led by General Geoffries, but with each of my new team members filling in relevant sections.

"Three months ago, Torchwood detected an unauthorised landing of an alien vessel near Cardiff. A Torchwood team was dispatched to retrieve it. Each of the team members was an experienced professional. Of the ten man team, four were killed, four were found to be gibbering idiots, one was wounded and one survived unscathed." Harkness paused for some coffee.

Ah. While I had been highly unimpressed by Jack Harkness's performance last time we met, I sincerely doubted Torchwood hired complete incompetents. Still, it never hurt to check.

"When you say gibbering idiot, what condition exactly have they been diagnosed with?" I ventured to ask.

"Harkness?" the General asked, also curious.

"While I realise it's hardly a technical term, 'gibbering idiot' is essentially correct. One was retarded to the point of being pre-verbal, two I'm told have the mental age of two year olds at best and one has developed a preference for sitting in corners and talking to only himself. The psychiatrist says his reality matrix was shattered, though what caused it is anyone's guess, as there weren't any wounds or physical clues, nor any chemical deviances detected to give us an indication," Harkness summarised.

That sounded more serious than I had originally considered. Four dead was bad enough, but that kind of mental damage was usually only seen in the cases of brain damage or psychological trauma manifesting in amnesia. For four people to have simultaneously developed so badly was unheard of and a horrifying thought. Not to mention the improbability to the point of ruling out coincidence. I nodded just as I was passed four folders, undoubtedly containing the injured men's medical reports. I would peruse them later.

"A second Torchwood team was dispatched of which seven of the ten returned. They brought one of the aliens with them as well as Torchwood team 1. They also brought back four humans who had been in close contact with the alien. One of them has since died, possibly through trauma associated with the alien, but that is for you to find out, Doctor Sullivan. One of the remaining three appears to be taking on the alien's physical characteristics," Harkness said.

Several of the men and women around the table shuddered, myself included. Dying while fighting is one thing, but being turned into something you previously fought is a fate worse than death.

"We would like you to take a look at the alien, the body, and the survivors we retrieved. Its nothing any of us has ever encountered, so we're hoping you have. In lieu of that, we need to find out what it's doing here and and why, and a way to beat it and its friends. And we need to find a way to reverse what it did to the civilian survivors and our men, though that is the least of our priorities if this is the precursor to an invasion. We also need to find out where they are holed up, and if their intentions are less than benign, they need to be stopped!" General Geoffries rumbled.

The rest of the briefing was short, sweet and to the point. Harkness was in charge, and we needed answers two days ago if not sooner. I guess it was time to pull another rabbit out of our collective hats.

Act 1, Scene 2

As the meeting broke up, the rest of the team left, leaving me alone with our Captain Harkness. Silence decended.

"I'll show you your quarters, then we'll get some breakfast, and we can get to work," Harkness suggested. I nodded. The idea of breakfast with him did not appeal in the slightest to me, but I knew I did need some food. I suppose I could have been mistaken in my initial impressions of him being nothing but an irritating flirt, and if he was the team leader for this mission it would behoove me to at least learn as much as I could from him in regards to the alien.

I followed him as he led me down the long corridors to the barracks where I had been assigned temporary quarters. As I walked in I could see someone had somehow managed to guess my size or pulled my old size from the records. Not only was there a spare change of boots next to the bed, I could also see three or four uniforms in the cupboard. Standard drab affairs, admittedly, but they were well prepared. Come to think of it, a shower and a clean set of clothes sounded like a really good idea about now. It would help keep me awake too, as I had left after a 12 hours shift and driven through the night.

"'I'm going to shower. I'll meet you in the mess hall?" I suggested, turning around to find Harkness leaning against the bathroom door. He grinned in that infuriating way good-looking men who know they're good-looking have.

"I think that's a great idea, Doc. Might do that myself," he told me and then opened the door to the bathroom and walked in.

"Pardon me, but what exactly are you doing in my bathroom?" I asked him coolly. This man was aggravating. I retracted my previous sentiment. He was nothing bar an irritating flirt.

"Just making sure that the hot water works. We've had some problems in the last couple of days with the plumbing. They should have fixed it, but you never know. Of course," he eyed me pretty obviously, "if you want to conserve water, I'm sure I could help you out," he suggested.

I just looked at him. I know I can be dense sometimes, but did this man have no shame? Flirting with Sarah Jane, well, I hate it intensely when other men do that but I do recognise that she is an extremely attractive woman.

Flirting with my intern, Adam? Well, I guess if you're interested in men, he would probably classify as attractive. What he saw in me I don't know. Desperation, maybe?

But all flirting with all three of us? That was just bad form!

Then he had the audacity to smirk and meet my look, as if he'd done nothing odd.

"That will not be necessary," I told him, each of my words clipped off. Again that infuriating smirk and then he brushed past me, only to stop at the doorway to my room.

"No problems, I'll pick you up in twenty minutes for breakfast then," He moved as if to close the door. "Oh, and if you change your mind? I'll be next door,".

Then he fnally closed the door.

It took me the better part of the twenty minutes to shower, shave and get ready. The uniforms were a tad tight, and I guess they got my old sizes from file.

After twenty minutes promptly, there was a knock on the door. I was barely done, not that I'd hurried. It looked like he had though, and still managed to look impeccable. I needed coffee, badly.

We walked to the mess hall, for once both of us silent. Once there I filled a tray with Navy edition goop that was supposed to be scrambled eggs, and added a few cardboard wafers pretending to be bacon, topped off with something resembling toast with beans. And coffee. Navy coffee to be exact. While Navy food may be questionable, it is still better than I can make if I try and cook. They're coffee though, is excellent. Very strong, with a pinch of salt to cut the bitterness and nutmeg, it is strong enough to melt a spoon. Perfect.

Captain Harkness started eating and after several bites spoke up. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention,"

I have to say that was unexpected. I scrutinised him, but his expression appeared genuine. I swallowed my goop-masquarading-as-eggs before answering.

"I admit to not being entirely comfortable with your behaviour," I told him and studied my egg gloop. I know I'm old fashioned, and lately I seem to be one of a small minority who is still exclusively straight. "And I hadn't expected anything so blatant here," I waved at the mess hall. The military was still largely intolerant of anything deviating from straight. Harkness grinned.

"That's the avantage of being with Torchwood, they couldn't care less wether I'm interested in men, women or aliens. Or all three."

"As long as you're not interested in the aliens we're after, I honestly don't care either," I retorted

"And what if I was interested in you?" he asked next.

"Then I would say you were very much out of luck, old chap," I rebuffed him.

"Are you sure? he asked me. I'll give him credit for persistance, if nothing else.

"Very sure." I put my cutlery down with a clatter. "Look, Captain, not only am I very straight, I am also very much in love with a fine woman of my aquaintance. So I think it would be fair to say that this mission will be considerably less aggravating if you stop this incessant and annoying behaviour," I piled my cutlery on my tray. "Pardon me, I have work to do," I excused myself.

"Sit down, Doc, you're not going to get far without knowing what's going on. I promise not to hit on you any more," he said, cradling his coffee and pushing away his tray.

Mollified, I sat down. After all, he did have a point. That's not to say I didn't sit down reluctantly.

"I was on the second Torchwood team sent out. Not to be confused of course, with Torchwood two, as that is an entirely different team. So was Sam Beckett. We followed the first team's leads to the outskirts of Cardiff. It appears to have been a small long range reconaisance vehicle that landed. We think there may have been three or four crewmembers on board, but we're not certain,": he paused, drinking deep.

"And the alien?" I asked. Best to know what I was getting myself into.

"It was found on board, together with the surviving members of Torchwood team 1, not to be confused with Torchwood office one. The other humans were also on board. Now, we did have to shoot it, but it appears to be recovering nicely as far as we can tell. None of the humans was physically hurt. It hasn't spoken or communicated with anyone so far," Harkness seemed done, but I wanted some more details.

"Has it been fed? Watered? What does it eat? Was there any documentation with the ship, or supplies?" I asked. After all, aliens aren't treated the same way humans are, their biological makeup is different.

"Yes, but it wasn't interested. Yes, but again, uninterested. We don't know, and not as far as we can tell," Harkness answered succinctly as I drained my coffee cup. "I want you to look at the alien as well as the humans and get me a report with your initial impressions by morning, " he told me.

That would be a stiff order, especially after being up for thirty-one hours already. One alien, three retrieved humans and four members of Torchwood Team One. Luckily, I had a base rate for most of the readings of the Torchwood members, and a psych profile to compare with. That would make my life easier at least.

Harkness stood up and brushed his hands off before picking up his tray. " Come on, I'll escort you to Medical. We've got them all there, and that's where your office is. Somebody should be by with your passwords some time this morning,"

We both deposited our trays and I followed as he led me back to the main building and then to a smaller building where the Infirmary was housed.

Once there, my first step was to review the data I had, namely the medical records I had been given. They were remarkably thorough. If nothing else, Torchwood knows everything it can about its employees, in a physical and mental sense at least.

It took me a good two hours to peruse those files, after which I could feel my eyes drooping. I'm used to long shifts, but anything over twenty four hours requires more coffee than I'd had. Time for more coffee then. Luckily Ben Richardson came knocking on my door just as I opened it. Unluckily for him, that meant the two cups of coffee he was carrying went over him. Thankfully, they had cooled some in the walk over and he managed to dodge most of it. Good reflexes, that man.

I think I didn't help him much, only having a few tissues and one hankerchief to my disposal. He waved me and my apology away though, storming off to get changed if his words were to be believed. This day was just getting better and better.

Act 1, Scene 3

I did a full physical on each of the members of Torchwood Team One first, down to x-rays, MRI's and blood tests. I'd have to wait for the bloodwork to come back but the rest should be there by afternoon. Of course, this put it well past lunch hour. And while the mess hall hadn't closed, I wasn't in much of a mood to eat alone.

Abandoning that quest, I headed back to Infirmary, feeling better for the walk at least. And the coffee I'd picked up on the way back of course. In the office, I found Shane Collins waiting for me with my passwords. Without anything planned, he was acting as gopher, and he came bearing an invite.

Apparently the rest of the team was getting together for pizza and a beer. I couldn't fathom why I would want to go with them and Harkness the way he had been acting, but he had lived up to his promise so far, so maybe he wasn't too bad. I hoped. If I could get my report done on time, and to do that would mean four more examinations including the alien one. Not likely, in other words. This was going to be a busy afternoon.

Corporal Collins showed me where the three humans the alien had taken hostage were held, and I spent a few hours with them, doing a complete physical and mental evaluation. Well, as far as possible.

The first human, a sixteen year old named Ken Biggleton was pacing and muttering in his room when I went to examine him. He was lucid, articulate, verbose, and very angry at being held, first by aliens and then by ourselves. He very reluctantly allowed me to examine and question him. It appeared that his the biggest trauma he had sustained was being seperated from his beloved Ipod, whatever that may be.

He described how he had been captured by other humans who seemed intent on doing their masters bidding. He had only seen the alien twice, once as it was with its troops capturing him and several others, and once as it walked by his cell. He wasn't best pleased at the news of having to wait longer before being released.

My second victim didn't speak a word, not even tracking me with her eyes though physically she seemed in perfect health if you discounted a slight case of arthritis. however, whomever she was, she wasn't responding to anything. Only automatic reflexes seemed to remain. to all intents and purposes, this poor lady's spirit had fled, leaving just a husk.

Our third victim was an older male, awake and compos mentis. Around his head was a large ring of dark hair, obviously shed. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and he seemed to be growing large jowels of skin under his chin. He was the most uncooperative of the three, only allowing me to do a minimum physical while he tugged and pulled at his restraints.

I felt the need for fortification before tackeling the alien, depositing my notes back in my office and picking up another mug of strong coffee before the pot was emptied by Harkness.

"So, how's it going?" he asked.

"Its too early for conclusions, however, the boy, Biggleton, appears sane enough and healthy. And very vocal in his displeasure," I observed.

"Yeah, well, until we know what's going on with the alien and its victims, we can't risk letting him go" Harkness said sympathetically. I nodded. I could understand that. I disliked it, but I understood the need for quarantine as well.

Captain Harkness insisted on accompanying me on my visit to the alien 'for my own safety', he claimed. As the alien had done pitifully little, I wasn't too worried. It hadn't even asked or answered any questions.

I was rather surprised for that reason, when the alien decided to change the status quo. Myself and Harkness walked into the aliens cell, to find it bound to a hospital style bed and with electrodes and other measuring devices attached to it. Make no mistake, while the human victims had rooms in Infirmary or otherwise, the alien had a cell. It, the alien that is, was in my opinion hidious, reminding me of something I couldn't quite put my finger onto. It was also staring at us intently.

That's when I felt it. A touch to my mind. It was at the same time similar as to how a telepath would feel when he or she touched my mind, and at the same time utterly cold, alien and even frightening. Scant seconds later realisation of the consequences dawned, and I dragged Captain Harkness out of the room.

"What are you doing, Doc? I know he looks weird, but you're supposed to be examining him," Harkness protested, sounding partly amused and partly surprised.

I dragged him down not only the corridor, but two more, at which point Harkness got the point that maybe I was serious about something.

"Who else has been in that room?" I asked him in a low voice.

"Myself, Rebecca, Shane, Ben, Sam, a few other officers. Why?" he asked.

"Was there anyone in there who would know confidential information? " the moment I asked that I realised how stupid that question was. "Anyone with my level of clearance or above?" I clarified.

"Well, yes. All of us. Why?" Oh, that as nice to know, that I had the least clearance here. Not that I particularly cared, mind you. Harkness was looking at me, puzzled, but alert and sincerely wanting to know.

"That thing...That creature is telepathic," I hoped I hadn't just said too much.

Act 1, Scene 4

Captain Harkness, myself and the rest of the team assembled again in the meeting room with the general and of course everyone wanted to know why.

"Captain Harkness, as you called this meeting, would you care to explain?" the general, a crusty old type who had to go back further than I did, asked. Harkness smiled.

"Yes,thank you Sir, I would," addressing everyone he continued. "The Doc over there found out something. Apparently our friend is telepathic." The room went absolutely quiet as that little bomb dropped. "And we've all been exposed to it, " Jack finished.

"Now wait just a minute! Are you suggesting that thing has read our minds?" The general asked in anger and consternation. I nodded.

"Most likely yes, that of everyone it had a chance to, I suspect," I confirmed. The general turned on me next.

"And you, Doctor Sullivan. How did you manage to recognise what it was doing so quickly?" he asked.

"I'm afraid, General, that I can't tell you that," I told him calmly. He glared at me.

"So you expect us to just take your word for it, without any reason or explanation? And may I remind you that everyone here has a clearance level as high if not higher than yours?" he asked acerbically. I looked him in the eye and straightened up a bit.

"That is very likely General, however, I still can't tell you. The various organisations I have worked for in the past have always recognised that as a doctor I am on occasion privy to information I can't divulge as part of my oaths, or more importantly regarding my time with UNIT and travelling for them. I am asking you to respect those oaths now," I told him severely.

"I could have you locked up for that," The General muttered, ill-tempered.

"That would be possible, yes," I agreed easily. He could do worse things too. Like the US, the UK probably outsourced prisoners they wanted information out of to countries with less stringent thoughts regarding welfare of those they held captive. I doubted it would get that far though.

The General stared at me hard, but I've seen silence work as a tactic too often to fall for it.

"I think the more interesting question is, what are we going to do about it?" Captain Harkness broke the silent stare-down. That seemed to dissolve the tension in the room, and people shifted again. "Do we and our secrets stay on the team, or do we give the alien a batch of fresh secrets?" he asked. The General snorted.

"Assuming Sullivan is correct then it already knows your secrets. I'm quarantining the alien until after we've dealt with the potential threat of its friends. It's not going anywhere in the mean time," he pronounced.

I did my best not not to bristle at that. I know I was correct, but it wasn't worth a fight. Maybe I could try thinking of my garden wall next time I was with it. I knew there would be a next time. They would still want data from it and I was already compromised.

"I suggest you find anyone else who has been in contact with it as well and find out what needs changing for national security," I suggested.

"Thank you, Doctor Sullivan, I suggest you concentrate on your job and let me concentrate on mine. Now, is there any further business?" we all stayed silent.

"Good. You will carry on as planned. You leave for Wales tomorrow evening. I suggest you use the time to prepare. Dismissed," he barked and stayed seated while we filed out. Carry on as planned? I wasn't going to let it have a second chance at what I knew. Or anyone I knew.

I admit to straggling on leaving the room, at least until the good Captain came along. He came up behind me and pushed me along gently with one hand very proprietarily and totally inappropriately in the small of my back.

"We need to talk," he told me. Yes, we did. I sidestepped slightly awkwardly, partly so I could see him better and partly so I would lose the hand, a move that worked nicely.

"I suggest a cup of tea," I told him and he nodded, then led the way to the coffee machine. I took one look and one sniff of the sludge they said was tea and changed my mind. I'd go with the pot of coffee instead. At least navy coffee doesn't come with toxic waste warnings.

"So Doc, how do you want to do this?" I looked over at the good Captain and took a sip of my coffee while I considered.

"I guess I'll just have to go back in there," I finally said. I was after all, the only qualified person around. "But I want it sedated before I go in. Heavily sedated," I continued, and again Harkness nodded.

"Got something to hide, Doc?" he asked me lightly. I frowned. We all have things to hide, and in my case it wasn't just my secrets but also those my patients had confided in me. Some of who posessed unusual gifts and talents that they didn't want anyone, including our own governments to know.

"Yes. If I won't tell one of our own generals, I am definitely not telling a being that could be a threat not only to ourselves, but to other civilisations as well," or, by implication him.

"You know, one of these days we're going to have to sit down and talk about some of this stuff. I'll get someone to sedate it. Someone without any real security clearance," he told me and went to walk away.

"No, actually we don't have to," I called after him. He turned back to me and smiled at me

"No, we don't. But we will. Trust me,"

While I didn't trust him, he did keep to his word and twenty minutes later there was a tap on the door of my office and a very pretty young nurse came in. Very pretty indeed. She reminded me a lot of Sarah Jane when she was younger.

"Doctor Sullivan? Your patient has been sedated," he told me in a soft low voice. I think she was trying for seductive, and when she leant over the desk and asked me if there was anything else she could help me with, I knew that was what she was trying for. Pretty, definitely, but compared to my Sarah Jane, she had no class.

"Thank you, I'll be along shortly. Dismissed," I told her and watched her walk out of the room with a slight pout. What has happened to the Navy, I wonder, where it was your man's Navy and this kind of thing was only dreamt of? I think I preferred it as dreams.

Examining the alien took me right through dinner, not that I had any taste for that when I was done. It was extraordinary, and at the same time scary. it looked like it had had a vestigial voicebox and possibly some remains of another species grafted onto its skin, or into its skin. It seemed to almost meld together, as what it was was becoming what it is, so to speak. Currently it was a chimeara. That thought horrified me no end as that meant that our second captive was becoming the enemy. I took a biopsy of both parts of the skin for DNA analysis. It would be several days before that came back but I wanted to put my thoughts on paper before I went to bed.

Naturally, I had forgotten about Harkness's little party.

Act 1, Scene 5

Just as naturally, they hadn't forgotten. I had just finished my reports on Torchwood Team One and our human victims when the door to my office bust open and all five of them crowded in. The Captain was carrying five large pizza boxes when he came in, and despite my intentions not to get caught up with them, forty odd hours without sleep and another nine or ten without food were enough to convince me that yes, a break would be a good idea.

"Right, I have vegetarian, meat lover, pepperoni, four cheese, one with anchovies and Ben, I assume that one is yours. Doc, we didn't know what you wanted so you and Shane get to argue with these lovely ladies over which one is yours," he told me as he deposited the greasy boxes on a spare chair on my office. I looked over. Several of them had brought chairs, and Rebecca was holding several cans of soft drink. It seemed they came well prepared.

It didn't take me long to move my reports to a lockable drawer, and clear my desk. I wasn't going to have everything covered with greasy pizza.

"Meat lover is mine!" Corporal Stephenson called out, grinning. "I love a good bit of meat,"

Both Corporal Collins and the good Captain eyed here. "What? I'm talking about pizza of course," she defended herself, but she didn't sound entirely serious. What have I got myself into?

"Doc, what are you having?" Corporal Collins asked me next. Really, has this man got no manners?

"I believe it is customary to ask the ladies here what they would prefer first," I reprimanded him gently.

"Oooh, you hear that Shane?" Corporal Stephenson told him, catcalling.

"I was talking about the good Captain Beckett here," I corrected her.

"I think the whole idea of this gathering was to get to be on a first name basis Doc," the Captain....Jack, I guess, reminded me. Oh was it now?

"Samantha? Your choice?" I offered again. How hard can it be to decide on pizza?

"I'll have the four cheeses and a can of coke," she told the Captain.

"Then the pepperoni is mine!" Corporal Collins cut in.

"Then I guess my first choice would be the vegetarian pizza," I told the Captain and he handed it over.

"Right, Doc, repeat after me," He told me and pointed at himself. "Jack," he next pointed at

Corporal Stephenson "Rebecca," followed by Corporal Collins, "Shane, Captain Beckett is also known as Sam," he pointed at Sargeant Richardson "And that is Ben," I nodded and cautiously opened my pizza box. Vegetarian indeed. I guess I was at least getting my vegetables this week.

"Come on Doc, Jack, Rebecca, Shane, Sam and Ben. Its not that hard," Jack cajoled. I eyed him for a moment. Oh how I deplore party games.

"Jack, Rebecca, Shane, Samantha and Ben. Happy now?" I asked him just before I took a bite.

"Sam, Doc, not Samantha," Jack corrected me, grinning.

"The lady's name is Samantha. Until she gives me permission to call her Sam, it wouldn't be proper," I replied after I'd finished my bite, dissaproving. Really, calling a lady by a nickname without being asked to do so.

Jack, Shane, Ben and Rebecca all seemed to develop a fit of giggling, smiling and laughing. It wasn't that funny.

"Instead of playing party games, may I suggest instead we focus on our mission? I for one would rather not end up dead nor a gibbering idiot," I reminded them, and that sobered up the good Captain rather quickly.

"Right, in that case lets do a Round Robin. Shane, what've you got for me?" he asked. Shane sat back and finished his slice, reaching into his pocket for a list.

"Quartermaster says we can have anything we're checked out on, with ten minutes notice. I've told him to pull our details and make sure he has any item we're checked out on available. Doc, for you I've got a sweet little handgun, standard issue but you're going to want to requal on it tomorrow. That covers hand and machine guns. I've got an explosives kit and a chemical kit coming tomorrow. Quartermaster's still working on the missile launcher," he closed his notepad.

Missile launcher? Sounds like they were expecting to walk into a warzone. Then again, maybe we were.

"Rebecca, what do you have for me?" Rebecca put down her slice quickly as Shane sat down.

"Initial intelligence gathered by Torchwood teams 1 and 2 as well as evidence from the craft strongly supports non-terrestial origin of the craft and inhabitants. We believe the craft contained three or possibly four individuals. One of them has been captured so further assumptions are based on three further individuals as well as data gathered in conjunction with Ben. Sir, there are over two hundred invididuals who have gone Missing in Cardiff in the last week. The police can't possibly deal with those numbers and some of them have gone missing too. Using geographical maps we have located two possible places that many people can be held without them being noticed. Unfortunately due to weather conditions, we have no chance to conduct an aerial survey of those sites. The first is a series of tithing sheds and barns as well as surrounding farmland near the crash site. The second and most probable location though is an abandoned quarry. It would be sufficiently large to hold that many people and could be secured by very few individuals. I believe we should concentrate our attention there," She pointed to a map.

"Very good, thank you Rebecca. Ben, do you have a way for us to get there, and do you have any other information for me?" the Captain carried on.

"Ah, yes sir, we have two offroaders at our disposal. They should be sufficient for the terrain. I've let the police know to avoid the area for the next week or so until we can finish our investigations. I've got us seven comkits, one spare in case someone breaks one. I've requisitioned a small bed and breakfast locally; the owners are more than happy to cooperate,"

"Sam?"

"Camos, night vision goggles, flares, watches, etc, etc, all arranged. We have anything we need to get into that quarry or the barns. Though I'd like it noted I think it unlikely that a mere three individuals, no matter how strong, could hold an entire quarry of humans without additional tools or support. I would therefore suggest on-site reconnaisance before making any final plans," she concluded, then opened her soft drink with a decisive snap.

"So noted, and a very good idea, thank you Sam. Doc, stage is yours," Ah, I wish I'd prepared some notes and slides then. No, really.

"Right, we know the following. The alien, and do we know a name for it by the way? " I paused.

"Shane and I had been calling it the Illithid," Ben piped up.

"A mindflayer? Very apt, all things considered," yes, I did catch the D&D reference. I did at one point play it, after all. "Right the Illithid is definitely a mindreader. Physiologically it appears to be a chimaera, a combination between two species. I'm not certain what the original was, but the second species would at first glance appear to be human. It would also appear vestigal to the second species. As to our humans, we have the four remaining members of Torchwood team 1, who seem to be ....well, for lack of a better term and without further evidence I would suggest brain damaged. In regards to our victims, we have one healthy and angry young man, one lady who is similarly brain damaged, possibly severely so and we have one individual who appears human but who is taking on Illithid characteristics. I do not believe we will learn much from any of them. As to the deceased, I haven't yet had time to look at him. I strongly suggest contact with the human victims is limited from now on though, as we don't know what is causing victim number three's rather drasticl physiological changes and it could be contagious. I also want to see everyone tomorrow before we leave for an hour to give everyone a quick check," I paused for a moment.

"And on that note, I have a few requests. Ben, could you get me a portable medkit and preferably an ambulance on standby if possible. Oh, and has anyone heard any rumours about zombies in Wales? " I asked and then sat back down.

"Right, so if I get this correctly our victims are turning into these things, is that correct?" Jack checked.

"Into them, health, or they appear to be brain damaged," I confirmed.

"Zombies, though, Doc, in Wales? I know most of the sheep are more intelligent than the men there, but that is a bit extreme don't you think?" Rebecca started in on me.

"No, I'm serious," I insisted. Several people looked at me as if wanting more explanation.

"I heard a rumour. I was wondering if it was connected," I explained.

Ben nodded.

"Now you mention it, yes. One small local community paper had an article on it. I didn't think anything of it, I mean, it's coming up to Guy Fawkes night, and there isn't exactly a lot to do in a lot of these communities. Hey, Rebecca, where was that quarry again?" he asked and Rebecca pointed at the map. It took him a minute or so looking, but he pointed to a small community near by. "There. I'll check it out in the morning. Thanks Doc,"

We sat there, mostly teasing Ben about zombie hunting, them teasing me about listening to gossip (to which I shrugged. I know a journalist. I get all the best gossip, even if I can't repeat over half of it) at which point I felt pleasantly full and sated. It wasn't long before I let the conversation drift by, and to my mind not long at all before I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to find the room empty and the only person there the good Captain.

"Doc? You okay? " he asked me, concerned. I stretched.

"Yeah, fine. Long shift, that's all. What did I miss?" Falling asleep during a meeting, never a good idea. It's been a long day, and a longer week. Haven't slept much anyway. The Captain frowned.

"Nothing important unless you count Shane and Rebecca flirting. How long is a long shift?" he asked. I checked my watch. It was three AM

"Forty-five hours or so, though it would have been less earlier," I told him.

"Really Doc? I guess if it was earlier it would be less, that makes sense," he told me and somehow I think he was making fun of me but I wasn't awake enough for it to make sense. "Right, I'm taking you to bed. You need the sleep," he carried on. I frowned. Surely he didn't mean what he said.

"I'll go to my bed, and I'll see you in the morning," I clarified. The Captain smiled at me.

"Are you sure Doc? You're no fun tonight," he told me lightly. No, I wasn't. He wasn't my type. He was missing an X chromosome, and a whole lot of class, a good brain, not to mention the hair and the eyes and a few other attributes I appreciated.

"Very certain. Goodnight Captain," I told him and stumbled over the chair behind me.

"Whoa there Doc, let me at least walk you back. You're not in any state to be walking around on your own, you'll get lost," he told me, but I shook his hand off. I didn't like it. Fine, he could walk me back. Knowing him he was right.

We walked in silence, until we got to my door.

"Need tucking in?" Jack suggested and I just glared at him.

"Right, I take it that was a no then? Eight o'clock in the Mess then?" he suggested next.

"Eight o'clock. Right. Not eight hundred?" I asked him grumpily. He grinned again. Does that man never stop smiling?

"Nope, Torchwood runs on real time, not this military time. Keeps things easy," he told me and looked me over. Had I been drooling in my sleep?

"Get some sleep Doc, its going to be a busy few days," he told me and then walked away.

I rubbed my jaw, closed the door, set the alarm and collapsed on the bed. I'd deal with anything else tomorrow.

Act 2, Scene 1

It seemed that I'd only just closed my eyes before I heard people banging and stumbling around outside, and somewhere the wake-up alarm sounded. Bleary eyed I peered at my alarm clock. Not yet time to get up. I knew how long it would take me to get up, shower, shave and get dressed. This was not it.

The second time I woke up I felt about as good, but it was quieter outside. Unfortunately, it now really was time to get up, and lacking any other choice, I did. The shower helped and I was just glad I had disposable safety razors to use, else I would have slit my throat. Dexterous I was not, though oddly enough when it comes to surgery and anything medical I'm a dab hand.

I stepped out of the door with a scant four minutes to spare, but I was confident I could make it to the mess hall in that time. I would have too, had I not walked straight into that pretty little nurse from yesterday. Of course, that meant I felt obliged to help her pick up her papers, as well as the test tubes that had rolled out of the racks. Thank heavens these were the newer plastic kind instead of old fashioned glass, otherwise they would have shattered. I hate to think what a mess that would have made.

Naturally, she took the opportunity, at least I think she did. She may just have been being friendly. Either way I wasn't going to give any impression of improprietary behaviour, though of course this was ruined by Captain Harkness coming along just at that moment.

"Running away from a woman, Doc? She's cute and she's interested in you," he told me as I strode away. His stride matched mine so I wasn't getting away from him. I wasn't running either though, and nor was he.

"No, simply more interested in getting breakfast," I replied. He stopped me with a hand on my arm

"Are you serious? You'd prefer navy edition mass produced rubber for breakfast, over spending time with a lovely lady such as that? Are you feeling okay, Doc? Do I need to get one of the other doctors to look you over?" he asked and I shook off his hand and grabbed a tray so I could join the line for rubber eggs. He had a point, the eggs were terrible.

"Captain, I've already told you. I'm not interested," I replied calmly as I accepted a scoop of gloop on my tray, then joined the next line.

"Ah, your fine lady?" he hazzarded a guess.

"Yes," I told him simply. It was none of his business and he would have to work harder to get me to volunteer information.

"You're not married yet though you are you? That was one of the criteria for this mission," he mentioned. That wasn't exactly comforting. That was only ever specified if the risk of leaving a widow, or I guess a widower nowadays was ...notable, and only then at the mission comander's discretion. It wasn't often invoked these days. Probably too much risk of litigation, though honestly I can't see too many married men volunteering for suicide missions. Not if they had a wife or a child or two to live for.

"No, I'm not," I told him and carried my tray over so I could get my coffee. I was giving up on the tea here for the duration, as by the look of it it was made to an obscure recipe used to torture inmates in prehistoric times.

"So have you asked her?" he continued.That man really needs to know everything, doesn't he?

"Yes," I told him tersely.

"So when's the big day? " the Captain asked, " And are you marrying in uniform?" Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. I didn't think I was still eligible to start with. After all, with the exception of this mission, my days of serving had to be just about over. I was older than most of the men in the Mess Hall.

"I don't know. I don't honestly care either," I told him. He frowned.

"How can you not know your wedding date?" he asked me.

"She hasn't accepted. Once she does I'll let her decide what she wants, and when she wants," I told him calmly. Jack guffawed and I wondered what was so funny.

"You left her with a proposal without waiting for an answer? You're really something else, Doc," he told me and picked up his coffee, drinking it slowly. I shrugged. He didn't need to know the details.

"It really doesn't matter if she accepts or not. I'm not interested in anyone else," I clarified.

Luckily our conversation was broken up by the arrival of the others, and I busied myself eating. General silence reigned as we all ate and luckily none of the others felt the need to fill the silence with excess noise. Even Shane and Rebecca seemed to keep the flirting down to a level becoming of an officer, and in Shane's case a gentleman.

"Right, everyone has their plans for this afternoon, we leave at six sharp. We have a last meeting planned at five o'clock in the conference room. Doc, I take it you're doing the autopsy in the morning. We'll start dropping in around noon for the physicals, okay? Everyone else set? " Captain Harkness definitely seemed raring to go. As it was almost eight-thirty that would leave me three hours to do the autopsy, or three and a half if I skipped lunch. That would be tight.

"You are of course aware that my specialism is emergency medicine, not forensic pathology?" I felt the need to point out that I was not a forensic pathologist before I started. I've worked on cadavers before, and while I have no problem doing so, death is ugly. Its not like movies where everyone is made up and looks like they are sleeping. In death, people are waxy, cold, and look, well, dead. Autopsies are never pretty nor glamorous, and due to the nature of this one I'd be protective gear.

"I know. But you're the closest we can get with clearance within twelve hours travel," he nodded. " Besides, how different can it be? Here you're just playing detective as well," he grinned.

Right, that man has no idea about medicine, does he?

"Do we have the family's permission for an autopsy?" I asked next. Jack shook his head.

"Considering the circumstances, we don't need it," he said, more seriously. Ah, well, I guess that was that then.

"In that case, I have an appointment with a cadaver. Pardon me," I told him as I left with my tray. It wasn't until I'd put my tray on the trolley that I looked back and saw the Captain watching me. Maybe this uniform was a little too tight after all.

Act 2, Scene 2

Finding my patient...victim wasn't too hard. Neither was getting him to autopsy room, though the fact that they have an autopsy room here doesn't come as a huge surprise. After all, all these people who die in training accidents need to be autopsied too, and so do some of the people who died by other causes. Like my victim. Besides, this was an area I was well familiar with from memory. My old office used to be down the hall.

Working without any assistance bar a dictaphone and a camera to record for me was a bit of a nuisance, but as this one didn't need to be done in full hazmat suit I wasn't too upset. Overall weight and hight, heart, lungs, all the organs situated in the abdominal cavity seemed normal in regards to size and composition.

The problem came when I went to the brainpan. His brain was missing. I don't mean removed unless that was done without an incision, or without opening up the skull. I mean missing. There were large quantities of cerebro-spinal fluid, and the only conclusion I could draw is that the man's brain had liquified. That is usually a process though, that takes years, and this amount of liquification would have left him in a hospital or hospice long before this stage. The only part of the brain still whole appeared to be the amygdala, or at least, I think that is what it was. It was small, brown and looked vaguely like a tadpole. Normal brain tissue was pinkish if there was still blood flowing through it, else grey-whitish, not brown. This was all very puzzling.

I took samples of an weighed everything of course, and several test tubes of CSF to be analysed, as well as the small tissue sample we had of the brain. I didn't want that being lost. Hair, nails, fingernail scrapings, they all went into evidence bags. The only visible injury, a small cut on the arm I photograped, but it simply appeared a superficial laceration without any tissue damage visible that were more than skin deep. It didn't appear to be a defensive wound though, and had clotted over before death and I estimated it to have happened two to three days before death.

What I was going to put on the death certificate, if they wanted me to write one, was a different question. Death by liquidifcation of brain is hardly a normal analysis, though I suppose in some sense it was a natural cause. Without a brain and brain stem, after all, I could hardly expect the patient to carry on breathing. The only other option was unclassified, as I could hardly expect this kind of damage to be accidental, and I doubted it was suicidal. It might be homicidal, I guess, but then I'd have to find proof of intent. This would require some thought, especially as the victim had died on the premesis. .

By the time I had closed up, stripped gloves, bootcovers, goggles, hairnet and all that kind of paraphenelia off, it was ten to twelve. I figured I'd have just enough time to grab a sandwhich on the way to the medical checkups of this team, and I'd find time in between to write the autopsy report.

My first physical started a bare two minutes after I had retrieved a sandwhich and a cup of coffee. Needless to say, they could wait until later. Rebecca Stephenson was my first patient of the day, and I called for a nurse to chaperone her. It turned out to be the same nurse as from this morning, but both of them managed to behave themselves in each others company, something I was profoundly grateful for. We finished with a quick fifteen minute psychological assessement and I cleared her for this mission.

Next I assessed Shane Collins, who seemed to be smitten with Rebecca, but otherwise as fit as a fiddle. That would bear watching though, in case we had any conflicts of interest. Can't have an involved couple together in a team, that tends to cause more trouble than it solves. Though, in this case I couldn't officially recommend against, as they weren't officially a couple yet.

Ben Richardson was quiet, taciturn even, during his physical, but with a resigned air of someone who has seen too many of them. I apologised for spilling cofee over him, and he shrugged it off as it was an accident. His medical file had a note about a recently sprained ankle, but that seemed all healed so I gave him the all clear as well. To be honest, I hadn't expected anything else.

I finished five minutes early at that point, and I ducked out to grab a hot cup of coffee as mine had gone cold on my desk. Naturally, I met Samantha Beckett at the coffee machine and she walked back with me.

"I'm going to call for a chaperone, and then we can get started," I told her.

"If its all the same with you I'd prefer to either have a different nurse to Nurse Bales, or no nurse at all," she told me. I frowned, then smiled at her. That was the nurse I had run into earlier who was getting on my nerves too.

"I'm sure we can arrange that. Is there any specific reason?" I asked, just curious. Samantha shrugged.

"She makes me uncomfortable, that's all," she muttered. I buzzed for a nurse, and nurse Bales came in. Samantha visibly hunched over, but you had to be watching her to notice.

"Nurse Bales, could you do something for me? Its very important," I asked her and she smiled at me.

"Of course I can, Doctor. What can I do for you?" she asked, and I pulled out the coolbox of vials and tissue samples.

"I need these analysed by the lab as soon as possible, and the results back if you can get them. This is very important to me, so I would appreciate it if you could wait with the technicians until they can get preliminary results back to me. Can you do that for me?" I asked her seriously, and she practically glowed under the attention.

"Of course I can!" she told me and took the box from me. Just as she was leaving, I caught her attention again.

"Oh, and Nurse Bales? I need to do another physical, could you ask one of the other nurses to come over while you do that? I really need you to give that priority," I told her.

When she had safely left, I looked back and Samantha was looking at me wideeyed.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked her

"I have never seen anyone so easily get their way with her," she exclaimed. I shrugged.

"Twenty-five years or so in the medical profession and you learn that kind of tricks. Besides, in all honesty, I do need those results soon, and I haven't had time to bring them to the lab. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, don't you think?" I told her, and started getting the tools of my trade ready.

Just then one of the other nurses came in, and we started the physical. It didn't take me long to complete it, and we did the psychological while I was working as Samantha was more than willing to talk to me while I worked. I wasn't planning on asking what I really wanted to know though, with anyone else in the room. No reason to create gossip, but I really wanted to know what the issue was that Samantha and Bates had.

We were done a few minutes late due to the delay in chaperones, and Captain Harkness was already there when I dismissed both the ladies.

"Don't I get a chaperone?" he asked me as he accompanied me inside.

"Do you want a chaperone?" I asked back. If he wanted one I was obliged to provide one.

"No, but I never mind a gorgeous lady watching me undress," he joked.

"Heaven help us, I think I might be the one in need of the chaperone, " I muttered as we got started.

To be fair, he behaved himself, until the psychological evaluation, and even then he didn't flirt much, to my relief. Of course, that meant that he felt free to give me his opinion on my eating habits, something I get quite enough of from several of the members of my staff, thank you, and of course he wanted details on the autopsy and the rest of the team's evaluations. I told him what I could regarding the autopsy, but declined to answer the other questions, citing patient confidentiality.

Naturally, that didn't make him best happy either, but lets be honest, I'm not in the business of making people happy. I'm in the business of practicing medicine.

Of course, filling in his psych eval was pretty pointless, as he didn't actually tell me anything, filling his time with question, and focussing on other things than himself, something rather odd. Most people are happy to talk about themselves.

Of course, by the time I'd written everything on the forms, it was time for the final meeting, and I followed the good Captain out for coffee and into the room.

Once in the room everyone checked in with having done their jobs, and I reported that I had completed paper copies but I still needed to type everything up. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only person who hadn't completed their tasks. Luckily it appears we were taking laptops, so I could always type things up tonight and tomorrow morning. After all, I was medical support, initial reconaissance would not be my domain.

We each had ten minutes to pack personal items and clothes, barely enough time to stuff everythingn in a duffel, when we were issued with sync'ed watches, mobiles and special IDs as well as travel papers. Outside there were two off-road vehicles waiting for us, and somehow I managed to get to be in the same one as the good Captain and Samantha, mainly by virtue of Shane and Rebecca wanting to be in the same one and Ben agreeing to drive them.

I still hadn't got my results from that autopsy, not that I expected anything but preliminary results any time soon, so I left the details of my mobile with the medical reception with orders to call me as soon as they received anything.

We drove safely, within the speed limit, and luckily Porton Down isn't that far from Cardiff and area. It took us a few hours, but nothing excessive. Thankfully though we did stop half way for dinner, though it being a Little Chef, or Little Thief as I've heard it refer to, the dinner was not anything worth having for the exorbitant amount they charged. Though after having left my sandwiches, I was grateful enough for anything to eat instead of voicing complaints.

We got to the B&B in at a reasonable hour, and of course as there were three rooms we put the ladies in together. They didn't seem to mind. Ben and Shane quickly opted for the other room, leaving me and the Captain. That wouldn't be a problem, were it not for the fact that when we walked into the room we were hit by the fact that there was only one bed. Ah.

"I'll sleep on the floor," I offered after a moment silence. Jack smiled slightly ruefully, then shook his head.

"I guess I deserved that. Look, Doc, the bed is big enough for both of us. No wandering hands, no wandering anything; I promise your virtue is safe with me. Sleeping on the floor is going to be cold, uncomfortable, and I don't want anyone on my team starting sleep deprived," he grinned, "Come on, I promise I'll be good," he offered.

"Didn't you promise not to hit on me yesterday as well?" I asked him drily.

"I mean it. I won't try anything. I won't even as much as comment for the rest of the mission, how does that sound?" How about 'too good to be true?'

"I have your word of honour as an officer and a gentleman?" I asked him before moving.

"Scout's honour," he promised, holding up two fingers.

"You were never a scout," I rebutted. He frowned, then asked.

"Fine, you have my word. How did you know?" Now it was my turn to smile.

"Scouts hold up three fingers,"

"I'm willing to bet you were one too," He then commented and I didn't see any reason to deny it, so I nodded.

"I bet you looked cute in shorts," he told me next and I glared at him. He held up his hands to defend himself.

"I wasn't flirting, honest!"

I didn't see the need to dignify that with a remark, and instead I focussed on hanging up the few clothes I had with me and breaking out the laptop with a post-it note saying 'Dr Sullivan' on it. I felt it fair to assume that was mine.

Jack threw himself on the bed, laying with his arms crossed under his head, staring at the ceiling. I busied myself typing the reports I needed to, and around midnight we called it a night, Jack digging into is bag for what he needed as I brushed my teeth and cleaned up for the night, after which it was his turn.

After the light was turned off, I lay awake for about an hour, long after Jack fell asleep. He was as good as his word for once, but still sleep would not come. I missed Sammie, and her snuffling around as well as her warm, comfortable presence. And at my age, I'm no longer used to sharing a bed. It felt odd.

Act 2, Scene 3

In the morning I had a leisurely breakfast, and read the paper as I was to stay in the B&B and coordinate. I shied away from my memories of last time I coordinated a mission, desperately trying to distract myself wtih the newspaper, the laptop and typing reports, anything. Not that that was hard work, listening in to the other five report in regularly and trace their routes on the map kept me busy, and I soon fell back into my old habits. They only had two offroaders after all. It wasn't until they decided to explore both locations, one team going to one and one to the other that I had to pay serious attention. I just kept waiting for the call, the one that said someone had been killed.

It didn't come. Not that day.

I sat on my nerves until five, when the set crackled and Jack came on

"Hey Doc, think you can manage to coordinate take-out if we head back?" he asked.

"Wilco. Out," I replied. Even if he doesn't stick to normal radio protocol, it had been too well drummed in to me not to. The units I had trained with had been crosstrained, with everybody having a primary, a secondary, and a tertary skill allowing two people to take over a function at almost the same level together, if someone was taken out. My tertary skill had been radio communications. My secondary had been planning and coordination. It meant that every time I watched a cop or piloting show and I heard them use 'roger', 'wilco' and 'affirmative' interchangably I cringed. They are seperate terms with seperate meanings.

That didn't stop me though from ordering a good spread. Knowing military eating and Chinese food, I figured we wouldn't have much in the way of leftovers, but we definitely wouldn't go hungry.

The food arrived ten minutes before the hungry troops did, and by that time I had the table laid as well. After all, there is no harm in being civilised about eating when we can. Naturally, that drew a fair share of comment until everyone was sat down and eating. I've noticed food does that quite frequently.

When we were all full, we took out the map, and crossed out the area's they had searched. We would focus on the rest tomorrow. Outside a storm was blowing up, and I watched the lightning from the bay window. It was a phenomena that had facinated me as a child, and still did to a certain extent. I just hoped Sarah Jane and Sammie weren't out in it, that they were both safe and warm inside. Though to be fair I held out more hope for Sammie than Sarah Jane, I know how she likes following her leads regardless of rain, wind, or alien incursion.

It didn't take the good Captain long, of course, to find me and join me. The bay windowsill was large enough to seat two comfortably, even with me stretched out on it. We sat in silence for several flashes, and I could almost ignore him.

"Has the Doctor visited recently?" he asked me.

"I haven't needed a doctor recently," I rebutted. I wanted to be absolutely certain he was talking about the man I think he was talking about before I told him anything. After all, Torchwood wants to collect aliens, and the Doctor was one of them, and I wasn't going to give him anything to help him.

"Not a doctor, the Doctor. Travels in a blue police box and has an odd fondness for picking up strays," he commented and I bristled at that. I had never been a stray! I'd been assigned, after all.

"I don't recall recently having been a stray," I told him stifly, and he chuckled. Infernal man.

"I was talking about myself," he told me. Oh. Oh, that changed things slightly. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know how he was doing, but if he was taking care of Sarah Jane, then I needed to know.

"How is he doing?"

Captain Harkness looked at me for a long moment, and for just a second I could see something more behind the look. Sadness. Emptyness. Loneliness. Abandonment. The same way I had felt after having stayed behind. I felt sorry for him.

"Last I saw him he was up against a Dalek fleet. He won, by the way. Last I heard of him he was fighting on top of a spaceship last Christmas day and he lost his hand at the wrist," he told me softly. Oh, that must have hurt. Badly.

"Dalek fleet? I didn't hear anything about them invading. I admit I've been out of the picture a bit, but I'm reasonably certain they would have called up everyone then?" I asked. Jack waved it away.

"Don't worry, it wasn't a local event," Ah. So, different planet or past or future then.

"Last I heard he was here this summer. I don't recall anything being mentioned about him being handless, though with some of his contacts and er..shall we say access to obscure items, it wouldn't suprise me if he found a way to heal himself," I offered him. Jack shook his head.

"I doubt it. We have the hand," he hesitated for a moment. "Sometimes it moves, as if the Doctor is still communicating with it,"

"Maybe he is," It was not outside the realm of posibilities.

"You say he was here last summer? Who saw him?" Jack asked, and I didn't think it much harm to tell him. After all, he wouldn't actually find Sarah Jane, she was travelling with the Doctor after all.

"Sarah Jane. You met her earlier this year. In fact, I understand that same explosion at the school is where she met him again," I said.

Jack was silent for a few moments.

"I just wish I could find him again," he admitted.

"Maybe you will. He has a talent for turning up when he's needed, and I know that Sarah Jane had been searching for him for a long time," And now she'd found him and was zombie hunting with him.

The Captain looked at me for a moment, assessingly.

"Your fine lady?" he asked me next, and looked back out over the grounds. The lightning had stopped, it was now simply pelting it down.

"I don't believe that is relevant to this discussion, Captain, do you?" I asked him back, and he smirked, looking knowingly. I got down off the window sill. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight Captain,"

"Goodnight Doc. I'll be along in a while," he called out after me, stretching his legs out. I never noticed him coming to bed.

Act 2, Scene 4

We decided to scour our second quadrant next, hoping to pick up a trace of our missing humans or our Illithid. We all knew they could realistically be anywhere, but this was the closest we had to a lead. I was on communications detail again, and called Porton Down to find out if we had results from the autopsy and medicals yet. To my surprise we had some preliminary results, and they weren't pretty.

What surprised me was a call from Samantha, who had elected to hike in the direction of the quarry. She had found our missing Illithid as well as the humans. What a coincidence, they were together!

Naturally, they all hauled back to eat dinner and do some tactical planning, now we knew where they were.

Jack and Shane were back first, with followed by Samantha and Ben five minutes later. Rebecca had not checked in from her explorations, and that moved our timetable up. We had to act this afternoon, her radio silence worried all of us. Our hosts had been kind enough to supply us with platters of sandwhiches as well as soup and oatmeal biscuits as desert, and I thought it prudent not to mention the autopsy and medical reports just yet. Not only that, but some of it can't be revealed for privacy reasons.

After dinner we were all sitting over tea, real tea and not Navy edition chemical waste, or coffee and pouring over maps. Samantha had scouted the Illithid and the humans to a quarry and the old tithing complex near by. Rebecca had been working around from the opposite direction, and had to be assumed to be captured. The complex dated from the middle ages, so we could make some safe assumptions as to how well it was built. While it would be a shame to blow it up, if we had to though, we would. It seemed a few of the humans were acting as guards on the complex, and there were forcefields covering both exits on the quarry. Samantha had spotted all three of our Illithid going in and out of the barns, so we could safely assume they were using that as headquarters.

Our plan as it stood was for me and Ben to disable the forcefield on the far end and to form the backup unit. Samantha was to go in one way and try and get as many humans as she could find out, while Jack would go in another way. Shane would cause a distraction and then come in with proverbial guns blazing.

The problem was that there were two sections, so we would be thinly spread. Very thinly. I was beginning to think that Ben could be better deployed, but I was overruled, under the reasoning that we were the backup and they needed to know were were there and able to do that job, as well as call in the big guns if needed.

Needless to say this is where I felt to reveal some of my results.

"I got the preliminary results back on the autopsy and the medicals I did," I said, and the room fell silent.

"Well, Doc? Spit it out," Ben prompted me.

"It appears that of our victims, one has virtually no electrical activity in the brain, and one while appearing fully concious and alert, has a small anomaly on his MRI that would indicate alien infestation. The third has been systematically undergoing a physiologal change and has started resembling the parasite species. He too has the same anomoly, though it is considerably larger in his case," I hesitated before finishing and Shane interrupted me.

"He's becoming one of them? Gross!" was his pronouncement, and then worry creased his brow. "What about Becky, will she be infested too?"

"There's more isn't there?" Samantha prompted and I nodded.

"Our fourth victim appears to have been infested as well. Only he doesn't seem to have taken on characteristics of the Illithid, nor of acting normally. He appears to have had what might be best termed an allergic reaction to the larval Illithid. His body reacted with sufficient violence that his brain broke down and liquified. Further questioning of victim number two indicates that up to a quarter of the captives may be infested. It appears in his case that he was infested due to prolonged contact. I would suggest all of us avoid that at all costs, and that we wear gloves at least. As to Rebecca, I don't know. I hope not. "

"I can't work properly with gloves on. Not even the surgical ones," Shane objected.

"Gloves will be available to anyone who opts for them. Doc, I take it you have a stash?" Jack cut through the argument. I nodded. "Right, we leave at 2 pm sharp. Everyone get your mission gear," he marshalled us, and we silently filed out of the room.

Act 2, Scene 5

I hardly had to do anything, just gather up my first aid supplies and the com kit and put them in the offroader. Shane pressed my gun in my hands again, and I tucked it away in the shoulder holster he gave me. I would carry it as ordered and prayed to God that I would not have to use it. Not on anything human at least. Not again. I became a doctor to help people, not to shoot them.

As we set off I checked and double checked the first aid box. It was the kind you can sling over your shoulder and carry along, and that is what I intended on doing. If I was going to need t there wouldn't be any time to come back and get it. We parked out of sight of the buildings, for a quick pow-wow.

"Doc, you and Ben are to disable the far end gate and lead as many people as you can away from it. The three of us will go in the moment we see that happen or when an hour is up, whichever comes first. Ben, you're in charge of coordination from there on in. Doc, you're in charge of the victims. Sam, you're in charge of getting as many people as you can out. Let Shane and myself know what you're up to so we don't shoot you or blow you up. Shane, your job is to cause havoc. I'm going after the Illithid. If you see any though, shoot to kill and report in. Everybody happy?"

No, not particularly. We'd still do it though. We all nodded, and Ben and I went our way and the other three went their way. We crept along as quietly as we could, which wasn't too noisily by any persons standards, but I was willing to bet Samantha, trained in this as she was, was leaving less trace. We skirted the edge of the trees around the quarry several times, using them for as much cover as we could until we were forced to use a ledge running just next to the quarry. Of course, while Ben was all nimble footed I managed to kick a rock and it tumbled down.

We both held our breaths, but thankfully nobody appeared to notice. Or so we thought. We had just rounded the corner of that ledge and come to the exit to find it not empty as we'd expected, but full of humans. And one Illithid. A young girl, cute as a button and with long loose dark hair parted in the middle stepped forward in front of the Illithid.

"We've been expecting you. You really should be quieter you know," she told us.

Act 3, Scene 1

There were maybe thirty humans milling around, some of them looking pale and gaunt, all of them wearing wet clothes and with the same mindless expression. All except the girl and the Illithid.

"Drop your weapons please. Otherwise we'll have to hurt you," she requested, sweetly. She can't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, and her expression was one of dismay. I looked over at Ben, as I knew there was no chance I could get a clear bead on the Illithid. He shook his head and I took out my gun with two fingers and dropped it on the ground in front of me. He did the same.

"Drop the bag," she ordered next.

"Its not a weapon. Its a first aid bag," I argued with her, and as if one the crowd stepped forward. Their movements were absolutely perfectly synchronised, except for the girl who was standing in front of the Illithid. It had a tentacle over her shoulder, as if to keep her there though it hardly seemed necessary. It was eery, the way everyone moved.

"Doc? I think they mean business," Ben told me urgently, and I had to agree with him. I put the bag down, and they stopped moving. I guess that is some relief at least.

"Drop any communication devices you are wearing. We will know if you are being dishonest, " she said, and the formalised, almost ritualistic nature of her speaking puzzled me. She didn't sound like a teenager. I stripped my comset off, but not before 'accidentally' toggling the mic button. The moment I did that a tentacle lashed out past me, grabbing it and crushing it in one move. Ah well, there went that idea.

"That was foolish of you. Come with us. We're watching you," she told us next, and the Illithid turned leaving her and us to follow. One old woman bent stiffly, picking up our guns and the first aid kit before following them. That was a shame really as I think some of them looked like they could have used the supplies.

We followed them down the steep slope until we reached the forcefield, where I expected us to halt. As we passed the controls, Ben and I made eye contact and both dove for it, only to find a sea of human bodies in the way, victims physically using their bodies to block ours. There was no way past them bar hurting them, and neither Ben nor was prepared to do that. Not yet. They frogmarched us to the forcefield, and I hoped we would have another chance to escape when we stopped. We didn't of course stop, why do what I expect? The Illithid and the girl stepped straight through the forcefield, followed by the other humans. It did make me wonder why it was there though, if anyone could get in. It wasn't until I saw several police men and woman, similarly dazed, that I realised what was happening. These were one way forcefields. Anyone could get in, and at that point was eligeable for victimhood. It was getting out that would be the trick. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that we were in deep trouble.

The Illithid and the girl led us through the centre of the quarry and the crowd of people within the quarry and on the entire walk through the crowd just stared at us. All two hundred or so of them just stared, not saying anything, but looking blankly at us. In the middle of the quarry we passed some kind of tower, one I would surmise was being used to control the forcefields at a distance.

"Think that's being used to control the forcefields?" I asked Ben softly.

"Either that or the people," he whispered back. Hmm. I hadn't though of that, but if so why weren't we affected? I shook my head. There would have to be a receiver of some kind and nobody looked like they were carrying any. Unless.....

Horrified I turned to Ben.

"The larva. What if they're the receiver?" I asked him, forgetting to mute my voice. The Illithid turned to us, as did the girl, and one tentacle lashed.

"You'll find out the details shortly. Now be silent and come along," the girl ordered us. We were escorted to the other side of the quarry, where the tithing complex was, and led into the opening of a tunnel. I was glad to get out of the elements, but as it was pitch black in here, that presented its own set of problems for Ben and myself. Oddly though, nobody else seemed to have the slightest bit of trouble with it.

I pitched forward as I hit the first stair, despite raising my feet more than normal.

"Stairs," I gasped just in time for Ben to bump into me. They were rough hewn, as the palms of my hands will attest to, and I half walked, half crawled up them. Without a hand rail or anything to guide me anything else would have constituted suicide as I would have broken my neck.

They seemed to go on forever, but of course they didn't. At a certain point I could straighten up though to be honest it made little to no difference as I still couldn't see a hand in front of my eyes. It was a bit unnerving, the absolute pitch black.

As we set off again it occurred to me that I couldn't hear anyone else around me bar Ben, and the slithings of the Illithid in front. Not the group of people who had been around. I took a tentative step forward, wondering if we could use the opportunity, when I was blinded by light. Shielding my eyes, I let them adjust for a moment. Looking back the stairs were steep, and dissapeared into an inky black hole. Looking forward with adjusting eyes, I could see a stone walled room and bound to a chair, Rebecca. I stepped out of the tunnel and into the light.

Well, we couldn't just abandon her, could we? That would be most unsporting.

Act 3, Scene 2

I stepped forward into the light, still squinting and made for her. She seemed physically alright, if bound and gagged for the occasion. She was trying to say something with her eyes only, something I suspect may have been anything from 'get me out of this' to ' look out behind you'. It may have been both. The girl took a step forward when I went to untie her though, and nodded. I took that as permission to continue, and I worked on the knots that had been used on Rebecca. She has obviously struggled, as she had pulled them tight, and I could see her wrists were bleeding.

Silence reigned as I worked and several other individuals entered the room including the old lady with our guns. I could see Ben eyeing her but so could the girl.

"I would not try it if were you. You would be dead before you completed two steps," she intoned seriously. The ropes fell away and I started on the gag, trying to avoid ripping out Rebecca's hair at the same time while she lent forwards to work on the ropes holding her ankles. I was done quicker than she was, as she was fumbling some, but I let her go at her own pace.

"Can I treat my colleague here with the supplies in the first aid kit?" I asked the girl, hoping that I could. That would be highly civilised. Rebecca stood up just as she had finished undoing the ropes. She was silent, but standing tall and straight. I know its not my place to say that, but I was proud of how she had held up.

"No. She may handcuff you to the chairs," the girl said firmly. Ben and I and Rebecca looked at each other for a moment.

"And what if we don't want to?" Ben said. The five men who had come in stepped forward towards us, and the woman handed the girl some items. I didn't see properly what they were.

"Then we will restrain you by force. You won't like it," the girl said, and pulled out a gun. One of our guns, if I wasn't mistaken. Ah, that kind of changed things.

"Don't. I'll do it," Rebecca said, her voice hoarse and scratchy. I looked at her for a moment, but she didn't glance my way.

"Him first," the girl ordered, pointing the gun at Ben. Rebecca stepped forward and took the handcuffs the old woman was holding out from her, and I could see tears rolling down her cheeks as she turned around. What had happened here? Ben and she traded a few soft words, ones I couldn't make out, and he took the chair she had been sitting down on. She cuffed him to it by the hands only, and then stood next to him.

"And now him. Put the second chair next to the first man with four steps in between," the girl ordered, and Rebecca moved to the corner of the room to take a chair I hadn't even noticed out, setting it down. My turn I guess. Sure enough, the girl motioned with the gun, and with five large men standing around I really didn't stand much chance. I sat down and I have to say Rebecca was very gentle as she pulled my arms back to cuff them.

"Tell Shane and my parents I love them. Don't give them anything," she whispered, and I nodded.

"Now stand between the men," the girl ordered and Rebecca stood between us at military rest.

"Will you do as we require?" the girl asked, her gun pointed at Rebecca, and the Illithid just behind her.

"No. I will not betray my government," Rebecca said defiantly.

"Then your usefulness is at an end," the girl said, with the same bland tone she had before. Then she fired, and Rebecca crumpled next to me. Despite being cuffed, both of us struggled, trying to get to her. Unfortunately, four of the men in the room had moved over, two of them holding each of us in place. I could still see her though. See her laying there with a neat, round hole in the middle of her forehead.

Horrified, Ben was asking the girl why she did it. What use it served.

"She refused to cooperate," was all the girl was willing to say. "Now, you will cooperate," she told us.

"No," I told her, as Ben had a choking fit. It was a bit surreal, I have to agree. The girl didn't say anything, merely walking over to the Illithid and taking something from it before coming over.

"You will call your government, and you will tell them to surrender. You will tell them that we will accept their surrender and tribute of ten thousand of your humans a year," she told me.

"I most certainly will not!" I protested. She held something out that looked like a tadpole.

"This is an immature larva. Most of this type survive less than four hours in your body. Some manage eight hours. A few longer than that," she said, and smiled though it didn't reach her eyes. "I've been told the pain is excruciating. Maybe your friend will cooperate more," she told me and pulled open my shirt, putting it on my chest. Then she stepped back. I watched with horror as it wriggled against my skin, trying to get a grip I guess, and I struggled as much as I could to dislodge it. With two large men holding me, that was not far, but I managed to dislodge it to the point it rolled down my shirt and out of view. Then I felt a sharp burning, even searing pain in my side. I gritted my teeth and bore with it, but the burning sensation spread until it was not only my side, but it touched my spine and then my entire body seemed to explode with the sensation. I couldn't think, breathe, or do anything it seemed. I know I screamed, and I know it seemed to go on forever, but I can't remember anything else aside from the pain.

Act 3, Scene 3

Pain is an interesting phenomena. It is entirely subjective to start with. If you ask someone to pinch someone, and that person to pinch back with equal force and so on, without revealing the instructions to each other, you will find that invariably they will pinch back harder each time. Pain can occur in limbs that have been cut off and no longer exist, so called phantom pain. And pain can overload your nerves, causing you to black out even though there is no outward sign as to why. Pain can cause you to lose control of your bladder and bowels. Pain can even cause death.

In my case, it caused me to black out. I don't know for how long, but I came to with my neck in a crick, my throat sore and Ben sitting opposite me instead of next to me. He was looking at me blankly, the look of someone keeping his emotions and thoughts firmly in check.

"Hey, Doc. You back?" he asked me softly and I nodded.

"More or less," I told him, my voice still there but scratchy.

"Best estimate is that you were out for about twenty minutes," he told me next. I didn't want to know for how long I'd been screaming.

"Rebecca?" I asked him, as the body seemed to have disappeared. We owed it to her to bring her home. Ben shook his head.

"They decided she was a distraction, not an incentive," he told me. How utterly cold blooded. Looking over at Ben, he looked rather pale and peaked himself.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, they didn't touch me. Not yet. They thought..." he hesitated for a moment, then rushed on. "They thought that you would be enough incentive. Anyway, that should be me asking that. How are you feeling?" he looked at me, and I could see the fear in his eyes. This wasn't what he had signed up for. He was still young, he hadn't been expecting this. Hearing the verbal warnings and actually living this were two different things. It wasn't the first time I'd been a prisoner, but I suspect it was his. I mustered up what energy I had.

"Not bad, all things considering. Stiff upper lip and all that. Can't let them see us down, especially as they're probably monitoring what we're saying," I warned him. In truth, everything ached, down to my teeth. I wasn't going to tell him that though. It wouldn't help us, and it might give them more ammunition.

"Then you will be more than happy to call your government for us," I heard that same creepy, bland voice behind me. I half turned.

"I believe the only things you are entitled to are my name, my rank and my serial number. Harold Sullivan, -" she cut me off.

"We don't care. You will do as we say," she told me imperiously.

"I most certainly will not!," I retorted. Then I felt it again, that icy, distinctly alien touch to my brain, reminiscent of but at the same time foreign to that of any of the telepaths I knew, Adam and Megabyte. My intern and his husband, two of my friends and men who had both trusted me with their secret. The blood drained out of my face as I realised my mistake, and I prayed for just a moment that they hadn't picked up on it. I felt it probe further though I wasn't quite sure what it was looking at. What it was reading.

"Interesting. We will accept the telepaths instead," she announced next. "You will call them. They will not come for us,"

"I don't know what you are talking about," I told her, and she just looked at me. Then she walked over to the Illithid and came over. On her hand I could see another of those wretched tadpole things, and as she stopped in front of me I held my breath for a moment, then realised what I was doing. If I could get through this once, I could get through this again. She smiled at me.

"Maybe your friend can give you an incentive," she told me and pulled Ben's shirt open, dropping the tadpole on his chest. It burrowed in quicker than mine had, and it was mere seconds before he started screaming in pain. In anguish. It was a sound I truly never hope to hear again.

We sat there for a long time, what seemed forever almost, until at a certain point Ben's screams died down to whimpers and stopped as he too was lured into unconsciousness. The girl and the Illithid walked forward, and the girl held out a mobile phone.

"Two larva will likely kill your friend. Call the telepaths," she ordered me. I looked over at Ben. He was a soldier. He knew there was a risk of this when he signed up for this, and I wasn't going to lead innocents into this. We were already caught. Besides, the British government has a policy against dealing with terrorists. I made the only choice I could.

"No," I told her quietly, and she shrugged, taking a few steps to Ben and dropping another larva on his chest. I watched him, he whimpered for a moment, despite being unconscious, took one more breath and let it out. The seconds ticked by and I watched and listened for him to take a breath, to move, for something.

"He's going to die. Let me help him," I asked the girl.

"He is already dead. It was your choice. Call the telepaths," she replied coldly. At that moment I hated her with a vengeance.

"No." Again I felt that icy alien touch, and for a moment I felt my head jerk without me planning it. Just for a moment. Then I realised what they were doing. They were trying to control my mind, and my body. "No!" I called out, and I struggled against my bonds, trying to pull anything to mind that was safe that I could focus on. Sarah Jane, she should be safe enough. In minds eye I could see her how I had first met her, young, fresh and beautiful. I could see her as she was now, confident, mature and if not as beautiful then more so. The girl and the Illithid turned, leaving me alone with the man I had condemned to death.

I sat there for several minutes, alone but for Ben's body. I would have to talk to his parents, and let them know what I could legally say. It might comfort them. I looked up again as the Illithid and the girl stepped inside, followed by her brute squad. They marched someone closer, and I was horrified when two of them broke away to remove Ben's body, only to reveal Sarah Jane in their midst.

She was alert and conscious though, not like a lot of the victims I had seen here. How they had found her that quickly after reading my mind I don't know, but she obviously hadn't been here long. She was also gagged, something that I am sure must have infuriated her no end. I wonder how many men that had taken? They unceremoniously moved Ben's body off the chair, dropping it on the floor next to it, and hauled Sarah Jane over there. I wanted to tell them to be gentle, but doing so would give them an even more of an upper hand. I just hoped she would understand.

"You were thinking of this woman," the girl stated. I gave Sarah Jane a once over glance.

"Sorry, I think you must have the wrong woman. I don't know this lady," I told her. A boldface lie, I know.

"You're lying. You were thinking of her, " the girl told me. I looked Sarah Jane over again, a bit more slowly this time. I shrugged.

"Al right, so she looks familiar. I'm a man, I think of pretty ladies on occasion. It doesn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything," I replied. I just hope she realised I didn't mean it. That I couldn't mean it. She was my everything after all.

"So you would not choose her safety over one call?" the girl asked. God but Sarah must be getting the wrong idea.

"No. Look, she's a civilian, and worse than that, a woman. She means nothing. She isn't relevant," I told the girl, keeping a very firm lid on my thoughts. After all, I knew they could read them.

"She thinks otherwise," the girl told me. Ah, that would be the snag in my plan.

"Of course she would. That doesn't mean anything," I bluffed. The girl cocked her head.

"A trade then. Your life for hers," the girl suggested. That was easy.

"No. That is not acceptable," I told her. My life wasn't worth hers. After all, without her there was no point. I think she got the wrong idea, as she turned her head away, and I could feel my heart shatter. I'm sorry, my Sarah Jane.

"Your life for the telepaths," she suggested next, and I shook my head again. The girl stood back for a moment, obviously thinking.

"Your life for the woman and the people in the quarry," she suggested again, and she obviously still wasn't getting the point. My life wasn't worth anyone's life, let alone multiple lives. This seemed to stump the alien, as the girl stood there, puzzled. She stood there for several minutes as I tried to catch Sarah's eye, or anything really. She was looking the other way though, and not paying me any heed.

"A last offer then. We leave you alive regardless of what you chose, but you either call the telepaths, or you call your government," she smiled for a moment, and that scared me more than her bland intonation of earlier. "We'll even let you have the woman for yourself," she told me, and I swallowed dryly. I know what I wanted to chose. I also knew I couldn't trust them. And I couldn't chose. I hadn't been lying earlier, the British government has a policy against dealing with terrorists, of any kind. And ten thousand people each year was a not inconsiderable number. I couldn't condemn that many people to death. On the other hand I couldn't chose my friends either. I couldn't chose Sarah Jane as being one of those to die.

"I can't make that choice," I told her. I couldn't look Sarah Jane in the eye, even if she was looking my way. Which I don't think she was. The alien took two steps forward and ran a tentacle over the girls shoulder, obviously communicating or something with her.

"The woman means so little to you? Very well, then we will feed off her until there is nothing left but the shell," the girl told me and stepped towards Sarah Jane.

"NO!" I shouted out as loud as my sore throat would allow, "Leave her alone. If you need to feed that badly feed on me instead," I offered her, well aware that I had just given them a trump card. "Her life for mine," I added, brokenly. They had me. They well and truly had me at this point. The girl stood over Sarah Jane for a few more moments, and I held my breath.

"Interesting. You would trade your life for hers, but you won't trade the telepaths for her or her life for yours. You confuse me," she said. Then she reached over and to my surprise undid Sarah Jane's restraints, standing back as she undid the gag.

"Convince him to hand over the telepaths and call the government and we might let both of you live," she told Sarah Jane, and then swept out of the room, following the Illithid with precise, measured steps. I watched the Illithid and the girl leave before I turned back to Sarah Jane, only to find her watching me carefully and rubbing her wrists.

"I'm sorry,"

"God, Harry. What did they do to you? " She would ask the questions I didn't want to answer. The last thing I wanted was for her to pity me. I shrugged, and winced as I did that. That was a singularly bad idea.

"What all the bad guys try to do, I suppose. Try and tell me what to do and how to do it," A thought occurred to me, and before I said anything further I felt obliged to warn her. "I suspect we're being monitored, not only our words but also our thoughts,"

"They are efficient; I'll give them that, if not a little over zealous," Sarah Jane told me as she walked over and leaned in close, whispering in my ear "There is a way around that to a degree but we'd need a cover. They already think we are more than friends, they've made that clear,". Imagine my surprise when she sat down on my lap, then pulled back slightly and in a louder voice told me "You didn't answer my question,"

Needless to say I was rather distracted, not to mention inclined to give in to anything she suggested. As long as she stayed safe, that is. I swallowed twice, trying to wet my mouth and asked her if she was sure, then for our audience asked "I'm sorry, what was the question?" loudly.

Sarah Jane gave me a look suggesting I was some kind of imbecile, and repeated slowly, as if speaking to one too "I asked you what they did to you,"

I shook my head, needing to get off that subject. I still ached, and I didn't want her to know. "Trust me. You've already seen too much. What are you doing here? " I asked her, shifting slightly. Not that I could shift much, and to my horror I could feel the effect of her sitting on my lap, being that close. I also didn't have any way to hide it. I tried to concentrate on other things. Less arousing things. And I hoped she didn't notice. " I thought you were zombie hunting? "

Of course, her running her hands over my wrists, and the cuffs wasn't helping. I suspect she was using these liberties to feel them out, so to speak. "I was. But it appears my information was not entirely correct although I can guess at the source of the rumours," she told me with a knowing nod towards the door. I bit back a groan as she shifted, and concentrated on telling my libido that this was not a good time for it to sit up and take notice.

"We must have heard similar misinformation. It definitely didn't include several of the things I've seen. Including you," I told her. Sarah Jane reached into her pocket and took out a lipstick, uncapping it as she spoke.

"Yes, we must have, but then misinformation is common in this kind of situation. We both know that. The aliens offered me a deal if I could persuade you to cooperate," she told me and applied her lipstick. I couldn't help but tell her what I was thinking. If anyone heard they were getting prime ammunition, but I couldn't are. I needed her to know I hadn't meant what I had said earlier.

"I want you to live, Sarah Jane. Believe me, I do," I told her, narrowly avoiding the 'with all my heart' part. After all, that would sound rather silly.

"But I can't chose. I can't," I told her almost desperately. Actually, simply desperately would do. I needed her to know. I wanted to touch her badly too, to help make my point. I couldn't though.

"I'm not asking you to choose, Harry. I said they offered," she told me, confusing me, and then she leaned closer, confusing me even more and making my breath hitch. "I hope you like the shade," she told me and brushed her lips against my cheek as she did something behind my back with the lipstick. I felt a familiar sensation from the lipstick tube, though how she managed to fit a sonic screwdriver in a lipstick tube I don't know. It undid the lock though. How she managed to miss the way my body was reacting I also didn't know. If she noticed though, she never said anything. I was still confused though. I needed to know.

"They offered? What did they offer? It's very flattering...very, very flattering...." I told her and dared press a kiss to her cheek. I could always blame it on wanting to make this charade look real. Besides, it looked very likely that we were going to die here. I wanted that to remember her by.

"My life," she told me quietly, stunning me. Then she surprised me again by whispering in my ear, "I wouldn't give up a friend any more than you would give up yours," confirming that she knew about Adam and Megabyte. Possibly the others. And that she understood that she knew she wasn't the only one helping keep people and beings safe. At that moment I knew I didn't know a more courageous or smart woman in my life, and that I loved her more than anyone else.

Naturally the moment had to be ruined before I could reply. In the distance I could hear rapid burst gunfire, rapidly coming closer and I could hear detonations being set off one by one in a line towards us. Less than two seconds later the room rumbled, and I could see chunks of the wall break, plaster cracking and part of the ceiling coming down at the far side of the room. I did what any sane man would. I took the love of my life, and ran for the safest area - the door frame, taking her with me.

Act 3, Scene 4

Now taking the lady I love with me in the direction where the Illithid and the girl headed may not seem very smart, but the door frame held up better than the rest of the room, and she was still smaller than me. I could still shelter her, to some extent. Even if I know I'll never hear the end of it if we get out of this. When we get out of this, I reminded myself. Think positive.

As the dust and debris started to settle and we got our choking fits under control, something that in no way helped my poor throat by the way, we could see that the explosions had taken down not only the roof or good parts of it, but also part of one of the side walls. It would be a bit of a clamber, but it was a way out.

One glance down told me that Sarah Jane was wearing sensible hiking boots, and why not if you are zombie hunting in Wales? I pulled her to the rubble and she quickly got the idea until we got to the main part of the wall. There, she was going to need a hand and I was happy to give her a foot up. Sitting on top of the wall she reached down.

"Harry! Come on!," she called out, clearly wanting me to take it. Behind me though, I could hear Shane firing away. I couldn't. I had to get her safe and make sure that my team was safe too. And if possible, that Ben and Rebecca were retrieved. We owed them that much, at least.

"Go on, go! Find Captain Harkness and tell him I've gone after the others! We'll be up in a jiffy!" I called up and walked back down the debris, being careful for the pieces of wrought iron and trying not to go skidding on the slate roof tiles that had come tumbling down

"Harry!" Sarah Jane called from the wall again, and I turned around and smiled at her. I don't think my voice was up to any more shouting, so I waved, and mumbled "goodbye my Sarah Jane,". I know she couldn't hear it. It didn't matter.

I walked through the doorway we had sheltered in, only to find second larger room. This one was better preserved. I could see several charges around, and in the corner I could see Shane, sitting on the ground and cradling a body close. By the hair and the fatigues, it had to be Rebecca.

Walking over the the charge I could see we had four minutes. Not a lot of time to get out of there, but sufficient. Providing we didn't run into any problems. I put my hand on Corporal Collins' shoulder, and he didn't respond. This close I could see that it was indeed Rebecca he was cradling, and I could hear his grief.

"Shane, we need to move," I told him. No response.

"Shane, I need you to help me get Rebecca and Ben out before those charges blow," I told him, slightly sterner. Still no response.

"Snap out of it Shane, if you stay here you're going to get killed. Rebecca wouldn't have wanted that," I told him next. The clock was still counting down after all. That garnered a slight response. He glared at me. "I'm staying here," he told me wetly.

"No, you're not. Rebecca wouldn't have wanted you to die," He glared at me again.

"How do you know? You're not her, and you have no idea what she would have wanted!" he argued with me. I sighed, right, grief. I should know better than to argue with the grief stricken. It rarely works. There are a few things that do though. I took a deep breath,

"Corporal Collins, you will pick up Corporal Stephenson and follow me. That is an order," I barked at him. It got the right response though. He may have glared at me, but he picked up her body as I hoisted up Sergeant Ben Richardson. I shouldn't do that any more, I'm getting too old for this. Military training can be damned effective though.

Naturally, in the commotion we had forgotten about the Illithid and the girl. That was a mistake we were going to regret.

Act 3, Scene 5

We had just managed to lift our fallen companions and turned around and there they were. Still eery, still dead calm, oh, and the girl still holding a gun on us. That did not bode well for our chances.

I gently put Ben down, or as gently as I could. Then I straightened and put my hands up. Next to me I could see Shane had done the same thing.

"You are to blame. You caused this destruction," she said and pointed the gun at Shane. "You will pay for that," she pronounced. I could see this going wrong. It did.

Shane obviously thought it a better idea to charge than to stand there awaiting his fate. In some ways I agree with him, but charging at a gun is seldom a good idea. Naturally, I could hear it go off just as I charged the alien controlling the girl. He was two steps further away though, and I was amazed by the strength he possessed. Two tentacles whipped out, one catching me just at chest hight, the other at thigh hight, both at high speed. The impact knocked the air out of me,and me back a good several feet through the air and into the wall. I know I hit the wall hard as I saw things went dark for a few moments, though I'm reasonably sure I never lost conciousness. I do know that I slid down the wall, and that my foot hit a piece of rubble before me and wedged itself in. I also know I had absolutely no coordination and nothing to stop my leg from breaking as my body continued its downward descent. Army boots are fantastic as they come higher than the ankle, lending support and preventing a lot of strains and sprains of the ankle. Unfortunately, in this situation, that means that the pressure on the leg meant it broke just above the boot.

I sat there watching, dazed, as Shane wrestled the gun away from the girl, and as the Illithid attacked him. I watched as the Illithid rested a tentacle on Shane's face and as Shane's face contorted and he cried out. I watched as Samantha came up behind him, and also got flung away against a wall. I watched as I saw Shane crumple at the Illithid's feet. I am surprised I remember all that. Amnesia is a very common side effect of a concussion, and I know I had at least that. Possibly worse. It didn't matter though. I tried moving and it felt as if I was moving through treacle, thick and heavy. It was possible though, and with each passing moment it was easier.

The Illithid was approaching Samantha, who appeared to have lost her gun and was making the best of it with her knife. She was agile and quick, avoiding its blows, when I decided to help her. A hefty rock or two became my weapons, and I threw one at the Illithid, hitting it and making it stagger to get its attention.

"Come on then. Pick on someone your own size!" I shouted at it. I'm sure I should have been able to think up something better, but lying on the rubble like that that was the best I could do. It advanced on me, giving Samantha the opportunity to plunge her knife in its back.

It roared in pain, and turned, hastening itself towards Samantha even as I threw more rocks at it. It wasn't going to pay me any heed until it was done, it seems. It didn't make more than a few steps when I heard the rapport of a gun, and saw it jerk several times. Then the back of its head came off, and I knew Samantha had managed to shoot it straight in the face.

Of course, that is when the charges blew. I had forgotten about them. Chunks of concrete rained down on the room, clouds of dust surrounding us all and choking us and somewhere Samantha cried out. I could feel each cough as it juddered down my body and to my leg, pulling sore muscles and broken bone each time my lungs spasmed. As soon as I could see though, I called out.

"Shane? Samantha? Report!" and waited.

A shape loomed up out of the dust. Covered with blood and grime, her blond hair peaking out in all directions and looking slightly dazed was Samantha. Thank heavens, one of them was all right. There had been too many kids lost this mission already.

"Doc? I think I see Shane," she told me as I was sitting there. I tried to get up, to stand up at least but my leg wouldn't let me. She took stock of the situation and then she put an arm around me and put my arm around her neck. Petite little thing she is, she lifted me up. I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed or relieved that she could manhandle me like that. I settled for looking for Shane instead.

Shane lay on the ground, crumpled, his eyes closed but his breathing steady. Samantha helped me down next to him as the dust was settling around us. I checked his breathing and his heart rate, and thankfully his tongue was not blocking his windpipe and neither had he vomited, as I didn't' think I could get him in a recovery position right now. That was when Samantha heard something and shushed me. I listened intently, and I could hear it too. Soft sobbing. Samantha hadn't been the one to cry out earlier after all.

We didn't need to talk, Samantha standing silently and swiftly, her gun cocked and ready. She walked towards the soft sounds, alert and ready to shoot anything that moved.

"Don't shoot! Please don't shoot!" someone pleaded with her. It sounded like a young girl. Surely this wasn't the same girl who had threatened us, who had killed Rebecca and Ben and who had...I shied away from what she had done to me. It was too soon. Too raw.

I saw Samantha crouch down and take her handcuffs out, and I heard her tell the girl that she was now our prisoner, and that she could consider herself as such. Then she got up and walked back.

"And?" I asked her.

"It's the girl. She's trapped under some rubble," she told me, quietly. I didn't quite like the way her pallor was going. I am willing to bet this was the first time she'd seen death up this close and personal. I had read her file after all. At least, what was publically accessible.

"Can you radio the Captain that we need five ambulances? As well as the fire brigade if the girl is trapped. And we'll need someone to take care of the crowd. And I don't know what he wants to do with the Illithid," I told her. I wasn't quite sure I shouldn't make that six ambulances. She looked like she could use one too. She nodded. "Good. Now, I need you to sit with Shane and keep his airway open. If it closes I need you to open it. If you can't or he stops breathing I need you to call me, alright?" I asked her calmly and she sat down. Good. That way if she did pass out, she'd fall less far. "I'm going to check on the girl," I told her as she spoke into the radio while checking Shane's breathing. She nodded, and I debated how to get over there. Shuffling seemed like the best option.

It wasn't far to pull myself and push myself with my good leg, though I took a slight detour to avoid having to scale a huge piece of rubble. As I got to the other side I could see the problem. The girl was trapped under it, and Samantha had handcuffed her hands in front of her. I really don't think that was too necessary as she wasn't going anywhere. We would definitely need heavy equipment to get her out.

Ignoring her crying for a moment, I laid down and peered under the slab of concrete, frowning at the dust and the darkness. How on Earth was I supposed to decide anything like that? Reaching in with a hand, I felt around and when I withdrew it, it was sticky and red streaked. She was bleeding. I sat up again. Laying like there like that she looked very little like the eery, creepy girl who had threatened us. Like this she looked like a young teenager who was afraid and hurting.

"Shhh. My name is Harry Sullivan. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help," I told her.

Act 4, Scene 1

As I sat there, the girl coughed a few times, holding her hands in front of her mouth. They came away stained with blood, and she looked at them in horror.

"Help me?" she asked, still sobbing. I sighed once, and then shuffled around behind her.

"I'm going to help you sit up a bit. That will probably hurt you a bit, but you'll be able to breathe better," I told her and shuffled around. Hmm. Prop her up on the injured leg or the uninjured one? With the rubble the way it was, the injured one looked like the better option. If I could get her leaning above the knee joint I shouldn't feel too much of it. As an added bonus, it would help keep my leg still, I hoped. It didn't take me much effort to get shuffled around.

"I'm going to lift your shoulders as gently as I can, alright?" I told her just as I took hold of them. She nodded once, harshly and I lifted her. Bless her, she didn't utter a peep as I slid my leg under head and neck. "Better?" I asked her. For a moment I cursed not having my first aid kit, but that was in the other room and probably hidden under rubble too. I reached over for her wrist, circling it with my fingers. "I'm just going to check your pulse," I told her, and she nodded again. It was weak and fast and she was pale, too pale for my liking. She was heading towards shock quickly.

"Sam? How are we doing?" I checked with her. She popped around the rubble, raising an eyebrow as she saw me.

"Shane is in the recovery position. Captain says we can have two ambulances here in fifteen minutes," she reported.

"Tell them I want them here in five, and they'd better bring the equipment to deal with a crush injury. Oh, and do you see my first aid kit anywhere?" She shook her head.

"I'll tell the Captain, check around and check on Shane," she told me. I doubted the ambulances would get here in five. The problem was that if the girl was crushed for more than ten minutes, her liver would likely fail the moment we took the rubble off her, unless we treated her for that as well. All the toxins the body can produce were still being produced in her legs, and the blood wasn't being cleaned. It was going to poison her, if we weren't careful. Of course, if her pelvis was fractured, we had a good chance she was bleeding internally and bleeding out. Well, we had that chance even if it wasn't, that isn't the only internal injury that can occur. The blood under the rubble worried me.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" I asked her. Silly question, I realised, but she answered me.

"I can't feel my toes," Ah, that was concerning. Very concerning.

It took me a moment or two but I shrugged off my jacket, feeling the chill and the damp of Welsh air on my skin. She needed to stay warm. And I couldn't keep referring to her as 'she' either.

"What's your name, poppet?" I asked her. We would have to contact her parents and the more information I could give the hospital the better.

"Genevieve Sinnot," she told me softly and she sniffed deep, trying to control herself I guess. "I'm going to Hell, aren't I?" she half asked, half stated and I hastened to reassure her.

"No! You are not going to Hell," I told her and she gave me a look that said she thought I was humouring her.

"You are not going to Hell," I repeated softer.

"I hurt you. I killed those other people," she said softly, and then started sobbing again. "I'm bad, I'm going to die and I'm going to Hell," she said again. I stroked her fringe out of her eyes.

"If I gave you a gun now, would you hurt me?" I asked her, and she shook her head.

"N-n-no," she sobbed.

"Then it wasn't you. It was that thing controlling you," I told her. "You aren't responsible for what you do in that situation. You didn't do it," I explained. She made another effort to control her sobbing, but I think the pain she was in was wearing her out. I could see the tiny lines that come with pain around her eyes, where she was squinting as I brushed the hair out of her eyes. "If you don't believe me, why don't you ask God for forgiveness? After all, if you confess your sins and you're repentant he will forgive you," I told her.

She nodded shakily. I checked her pulse again. It was feeling weaker, and it was still fast. Reaching under the rubble, I could definitely feel stickyness now. I wiped my hand on my trousers, after all, I didn't want to get blood in her hair.

"Just talk to God. He'll listen. Do you want me to pray with you?" I asked, and she shook her head, making the small movements to fold her hands. I could see her lips moving and I could hear her mumble, but I tried not to listen. After all, this was between her and God. I shouldn't be privy to this unless she chose to share, not because she had no choice.

I admit there was very little I could do without any kind of supplies, so I joined her, directing a prayer for her to a God whose servants I had not spoken to for many a year. I hoped he was still listening, despite that.

She opened her eyes a few moments later, and she was looking a lot more relaxed.

"I feel like I'm floating," she said, with a small smile. "He must have forgiven me,"

Either that or it was blood loss setting in. She yawned, and when I ran my hand over her forehead she felt clammy. Shock was setting in and she was losing enough blood that she was having to yawn to get more oxygen. This was not good.

"We're going to get you into an ambulance soon Genevieve. I need you to concentrate on answering a few questions, alright?" I said as I fumbled in my pockets for a notepad and a pen. I found both, luckily. She nodded.

"What is your parents telephone number?" I asked, and she rattled off a landline, followed by a mobile number. Thank heavens she knew that. That would make our life easier.

"And Genevieve, are you allergic to anything?" I asked her, and she gave me a negative answer, followed by another yawn.

"Stay with me Genevieve, talk to me. Are you healthy? Have you been in hospital recently?" I asked her.

"I've never been in hospital. My mum says I'm as healthy as a horse," she told me proudly, but then that smile wavered and I could see her chin wobble ever so slightly.

"I want my mummy. I'm scared," She told me with a hoarse voice and she was sobbing again. "I'm going to be sick," she announced, and I turned her head quickly as she retched over the floor next to me and over me. Lovely. She looked miserable for it though, so I paid it little heed. I believe a little distraction was due.

"What would your mum do if she was here?" I asked her. Keeping her talking would help her.

"She'd sing to me. Mum would sing to me," she sobbed. Ah. Not my finest talent, especially not with my voice and throat the way they were, but I was willing to give it a try.

A quick review of my meagre repertoire showed no songs suitable for a young girl from this time, most of them being old rock songs, most of them with lyrics that make me cringe but which are remade by modern bands despite that. The I hit on one, taught to me long, long ago when I did a short stint undercover in a mental institution, and I started singing about Puff the Magic dragon.

"Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the Sea,

And frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Honalee," I sang out, the rest of the words coming back to me.

I was just at the verse where little Jackie Paper grows up and leaves Puff alone when I heard something, and looking up I could see Sarah Jane standing there, watching me. I almost interrupted my singing, but behind her I could see the good Captain, putting an arm around her while saying something and leading her away. I watched them go as I finished.

Genevieve was looking at me, looking far more at peace now. She also looked tired and pale, as if she was about to pass out. I don't know where the ambulance was and subjectively I knew that we hadn't been sitting there long. I also knew she was running out of time. I could see a small trickle of thick, congealing blood seep out from under the rubble. She was bleeding out, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Looking around I knew the rubble was too heavy to lift.

"Tell mum I love her?" Genevieve asked me as I looked around.

"No, because you're going to be able to tell her yourself," I told her with an optimism I didn't feel. She shook her head.

"No, I won't and you know it," she told me. I had to admit, she was right. She was also taking this far calmer than she should, by all rights.

"You're a brave girl Genevieve. Very brave," I told her and she shook her head.

"No. Its only fair that I pay for what I did," she told me and I moved to protest, but she continued, "Even if Jesus paid for our sins, a judge wouldn't see it that way. I wouldn't see it that way," she told me. I went to debate the subject with her and she interrupted me yet again. "Do you know 'All things bright and beautiful?" she asked me, and I nodded.

Even though my thoat was killing me, I wasn't going to stop singing if that is what she wanted. If that is what was bringing her some peace, and some comfort.

I started singing and as I started on the second refrain, the second time I was singing the words 'all creatures great and small' she sighed softly and her eyes slid shut. I stopped singing and called out her name, only for her not to respond. She didn't respond to shaking nor gently pinching, nor even harder pinching. That put her on the very low end of the Glasgow coma scale. I carried on singing, hoping that she would hear it. On the last verse, I couldn't feel her breathing any more. I finished the song bare seconds later.

There was little to no point in trying artificial respiration, especially as her pulse was gone and that would mean CPR as well. I would be breaking ribs doing that, and the pinkish foam on her lips told me she already had blood in her lungs. I didn't have my kit, nothing for intubation or to keep me safe from any blood borne infections she might be carrying. I didn't think I could do it either. Not with my leg throbbing the way it was, and the room swimming around us. I don't think I could balance on my legs, let alone well enough for that.

So I did what I could. I held her as I said psalm 23 for her, from memory, and then just held her.

Act 4, Scene 2

I can't honestly recall how long it was that I sat there. I know that at one point it started raining, typical Welsh weather I suppose, and helped the dust settle. I remember being tapped on the shoulder by the good Captain, and he had two gentlemen in ambulance greens with him, as well as a stretcher.

"It's too late. She's dead," I told him, still holding her. She hadn't deserved this. She wouldn't have asked to be taken over by aliens, and she definitely wouldn't have asked to die here, in the rubble, with just me as company. The Captain crouched down and put a hand on my shoulder, stopping those comforting repetitive movements stroking her hair.

"I know, Doc. They're not here for her, they're here for you," he told me. I frowned. Who had arranged that triage? I had a broken leg and more likely than not, a concussion. It wasn't even likely that I had a skull fracture, simple linear or stellate. An x-ray would bear that out of course, but I was willing to put money on it. Shane needed an ambulance far worse, and I think I could make a reasonable case for Samantha. And we had Rebecca, Ben and Genevieve who had to be taken to the morgue. I licked my lips, finding them cracked.

"Shane. He needs the help more," I turned to the ambulance crew, about to give them details when Jack interrupted me.

"Shane's already gone with the first ambulance crew. Samantha is insisting she won't go until you and the girl have gone," he told me.

"Genevieve. Not the girl," I corrected him absently. If I left there would be nobody medically qualified to give a legal time of death. I know military deaths fall under a lot of secrecy, but I hated distorting something that simple. And in Genevieve's case we would likely have to cover up anyway. She deserved to at least get this part accurately recorded. I doubted the ambulance personell had the authority to proclaim anyone dead. I looked at my watch.

"Genevieve Sinnot. Time of death, 16.36," I said clearly. I had three witnesses now. I also scrawled it on my notepad.

"I need you to go with these people Doc, I need you to let them take care of you," Jack was telling me.

"Then who will take care of Ben and Rebecca? And Genevieve?" I asked him. I couldn't just leave them, that was my duty as a medical officer and as a doctor.

"I will," Jack replied, and I believed him. I nodded once.

He and the paramedics helped me out from my cramped position and onto the stretcher. I decided not to give them a hard time and let them strap me down on the backboard and neckboard as well. It would keep them happy. I saw Samantha watching us as they loaded me into the ambulance, looking decidedly unhappy. I waved a small wave at her, and she smiled, but even from here I could see it was forced.

Ah well, a chance to experience this process from a patient perspective, I suppose.

They loaded me in the ambulance, strapped the stretcher down and then I could hear them clatter around but due to the backboard and cervical collar I couldn't see them until I felt the ambulance pull away and one of the young men came and sat next to me, patient report form in hand.

"Doc? I'm Jeff Stevens.What seems to be the problem?" he asked me.

"You have a forty-six year old male presenting with a fractured fib-tib and a certain concussion, possible skull fracture or compression injury. Are my pupils dilating equally?" I asked. After all, he couldn't have been older than Adam. Younger, I guessed. He was probably good at his job, but to be honest, I was probably better at mine. That's not arrogance, but the difference in several years of medical school, two warzones, and a lot of years work.

Stevens chuckled, then took out a small torch to shine in my eyes.

"Yep, they're looking normal and dilating normally too. You know, this is not quite what I expect from my patients. Are you a medical doctor then?" he asked. What, he thought I'd picked up the moniker 'Doc' by being what exactly?

"Doctor Harry Sullivan, Emergency Medicine at King's Cross," I introduced myself.

"Then you probably know what I'm doing and why better than I do. I've still got to run through the standard questions though. Mind if I take your blood pressure?" he asked, and I let him poke and prod me as he pleased, answering his questions when he asked them. Apparently I scored reasonably well on the GCS. Good, I should.

They wheeled me into the emergency room - at least, I think it was the emergency room as all I could see was the ceiling. It wasn't long before a little nurse came over and introduced herself, telling me they were taking me down for an MRI of my spine and skull. Apparently they didn't trust my answers totally as they figured I could have disguising injuries, and not have noticed a spine injury on myself. I sincerely doubted that, after all, no rubble had struck me, but if it kept them happy I'd let them check. They also wanted to check to see if I had any bleeding that was likely to do anything life threatening before they assessed the leg and decided if they would have to put me under to fix that. I could understand that. If they were going to have to put me under it made sense to want to know if I was likely to die of something unrelated on the operating table. After all, that looked very sloppy to any inquiry.

Laying on the table, the MRI tube around me buzzing away, it suddenly hit me that I'd lost three kids this mission, possibly four. I would have to find out what was happening to Shane. Unfortunately, they had left me alone while the machine worked away, and there was nobody to ask, and moving is a no-no in this situation.

It seemed like eternity before the nurse, Lisa came back. The wait when the machine done was shorter than the wait for the machine, but either way I was getting rather fed up of this collar and board. Lisa gently removed it though, telling me that I had been given the all clear on spine injuries and skull fractures.

Next I was put in a wheelchair and wheeled to the x-ray department next door. Another long wait, before I was helped onto the table, and asked to put my leg in all manners of uncomfortable position and they confirmed that yes, it was broken, and yes, they were going to be able to set it without surgery. That was a relief at least. The last thing I was in the mood for right now was surgery!

At that point I remembered that there was something I needed to ask Lisa, but I couldn't remember what. It was very frustrating. I even went as far as to ask her if she had any idea what I might need to ask her, but she just told me that if I didn't know neither would she. She did make a note on my chart though, so hopefully I could read it later and then figure out what it was that I was forgetting.

Next I was wheeled into yet another room, and I knew what was going to happen next. They were going to try and set my leg manually. Sure enough, it wasn't long before a young doctor came in, hung up the x-ray and took another look.

"Right then Mr Sullivan, it looks like your leg is broken. Now, both the bones in the leg are broken, so we're going to have to set them both and then take more x-rays," he told me, and took out a small kidney shaped tray from the cupboard, dealing with small bottles and syringes.

I frowned at that. I hoped he was planning on at least introducing himself. After all, it would be manners after all.

Taking the injection, he gently handled my leg, and spoke just before injecting me with the fluid "Now, this is a local anesethic. You shouldn't feel a thing," he told me.

"I sincerely doubt it," I told him frankly. I know how well they work for broken bones. He frowned.

"Excuse me?" he asked me. I so detest that habit. He hasn't done anything wrong. Pardon me would be more appropriate. I held out my hand.

"Doctor Harry Sullivan. Emergency Medicine at King's Cross," I introduced myself, and just then another gentleman came in.

"Right then, if you'll just lay back then we'll get started," the young doctor told me humourlessly. It looked like he wasn't going to argue the point.

Act 4, Scene 3

They placed me and my hot pink cast in a mixed ward, with three ladies and one other gentleman, and an empty bed. Looking at my cast, I knew I would have to have words with Captain Harkness about this. After they had finally manipulated my bones into an angle they liked, they had x-rayed my leg again, and having demanded to see them I knew my leg was at least straight. That was an improvement, I suppose. However, when Lisa had come in smiling and wheeled me down to the plaster room, and after helping me up on the bed loudly announced that she was very much in favour of supporting our military where possible, especially with simple requests, I knew I was in trouble.

When she then told me that my Captain had asked if I could, for recognition purposes, be given a day glow cast, and preferably in pink I had thought and yes, even hoped that this was a joke. Of course, it wasn't. I should have known better. The guys in the plaster room tend to have a wicked sense of humour.

So I was stuck laying on a bed, with a nurse coming by ever hour to ask routine and boring questions to make sure my brain wasn't bleeding. I was almost tempted to get creative with the answers. Hmm. Prime minister Flutwargh Zorgh of the planet Ninunock? That made me smile, but I knew I wouldn't say it. For one thing, they were probably likely to take it seriously. After all, they were only doing their job, even if they should have, in my opinion, simply discharged me. After all, this was just a concussion.

I admit that a drafty and not particularly comfortable night shirt may have contributed to the desire to be discharged.

Naturally, my mood wasn't made much better when I had a visitor that evening. I hadn't expected one of course, so I was deeply engrossed in reading the latest gossip rag. Actually, I wasn't, but holding it up let me think without having to watch everyone else with visitors and listening in. It gave me time to think.

"Hey Doc, nice cast. Like the outfit too, little bunnies are very in season," I heard Captain Jack say. I didn't even have to look up to recognise his voice. Slowly I lowered the paper and glared at him. That said, I didn't glare too badly. After all, whether he knew it or not, he was going to be my source of information.

"You would say that. How are Samantha and Shane? " I asked, biting my tongue before asking about Sarah Jane. After all, I knew she was unhurt. And she probably wasn't too happy with what had happened. With the mess I had got her into. No lady should act the way she had had to, simply because she feels she has no other choice. The captain held up his hand and wobbled it.

"So-so. Samantha has been released and was talking to one of the shrinks when I left. Shane has been examined, given an MRI and has woken up. He is still feeling very weak, but he remembers what happened," Jack said, and then fell silent. Thank heavens Shane survived. Losing three of the team was bad enough.

"The others have been taken to Porton Down," he told me quietly, and I'm not surprised as this was a public location. I nodded.

"And Sarah Jane?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. Jack chuckled and I don't know what he thought was so funny.

"She's an interesting woman. Very interesting," he replied.

"But is she all right?" I pressed him. Jack smiled at me, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"She's physically and mentally fine as far as we can tell. She seems to be very resilient. I interviewed her earlier today as part of her debriefing. She should be on her way home in the morning. And you?" he asked me. Ah, I was losing her in the morning again. She would go with the Doctor, and I ...I would go back home to my dog, and my dying aloe. I would try and pick up with my friends. Resign myself to probably not seeing her for a while. I could do that. I kept telling myself that.

The meds must have kicked in as I felt mildly nauseous at that point, but I smiled back and did the hand wobble thing.

"The doctors say I don't have a skull fracture or spinal injury, but they're making sure the concussion is the only head injury I keep," I told him.

"I can see that," Jack grinned, eyeing me. I fought the urge to pull the sheets up further. It was warm there, and that wouldn't help. It would just let him know he'd scored a point. "How do you feel about it all though?"

I shrugged."We got them all, didn't we?" I checked. Jack nodded. "As far as we can tell,"

"Then I guess we won," I told him tiredly as my voice broke. Yes, we had won, but at what cost? The captain looked me over one more time, this time with an assessing eye.

"You sound like your voice could use a rest. I'll be by in the morning to pick you up," he told me as he stood. Looking around visiting hour was still in full swing but he was right. My throat hurt. I needed the sleep. I lay there for over an hour, just watching everyone move, until I got bored and buzzed one of the nurses. I asked her for a bible to read, knowing that hospitals tend to keep them as well as other religious works. It would behove me to refamiliarise myself with some sections. After all, I was sure there was something else I could have told Genevieve, something to put her mind at ease better.

I read for twenty minutes, until my skull felt like a midget with a hammer was tapping out some kind of horrible modern music and my vision blurred. Then I put it down and closed my eyes, ignoring everything around me..

The Captain kept his word, showing up just after breakfast to pick me up. Blessedly he also brought a fresh set of clothing with him. I had been dreading putting my dirty, blood and vomit stained ones on again.

"Doc, you look terrible," he greeted me cheerfully. I frowned.

"Captain, I assure you that if you were woken up every hour all night you would look about as tired as I do," I snapped back. I felt like I had hardly had any rest, and rubbing my cheek I could feel the whiskers growing again. I needed a shower, a shave, and a nap. Unfortunately, none of those were on the menu..

Captain Harkness just raised his eyebrows, especially when the nurse who was in the room tried to help me up and I waved her away.

"If I was woken up every hour by a lady as lovely as this one I wouldn't mind," he flirted with her good-naturedly, and just as she was about to respond I managed to catch the cord for the buzzer in the cast, toppling me off the bed as I was getting out. It was a controlled landing, but not a painless one and I grit my teeth when I did it. I'm not quite sure what annoyed me more, making a fool out of myself or jarring the leg.

The Captain was there quicker than Linette, the nurse, and he lifted me up with one arm around my waist and into the wheelchair with nary a word, and just as I was seated Linette handed me a paper bag from the pharmacy. Looking inside I frowned. Pain meds, and some muscle relaxants.

"I'll get you a glass of water. You look like you could use some," she told me and hurried away.

"You know, Doc, if you wanted my attention you could have simply asked," Jack told me, smirking.

"I'll have you know it was an accident," I told him stiffly.

"Yeah Doc, I believe you," he told me in a tone that indicated he was humouring me. I know that kind of game. He's decided and it won't matter what I say, he'll take it as protesting too much.

Just then Linette came hurrying back with a glass of water, or should I say, a plastic cup of water, which I gratefully accepted. Swallowing pills dry has never been a favourite exercise. I checked the dosage and prescribed myself two tablets, taking them under their watchful eyes. Then I said goodbye to my ward-mates, and my nurse and was wheeled outside, where the Captain handed me my crutches and I got to move with three legs instead of two.

To be fair, Jack helped me into the large 4x4 gently, and then strapped me in despite my protests that I could do it myself. It would have helped if he had managed to buckle me up first time, instead of missing several times.

"Why don't you put the seat back and get some rest? You can take a nap until we get there," he offered and the stubborn part of me wanted to say I was fine, and stay awake. The less stubborn part, as well as the medical professional in me suggested rest might be a good idea, as well as laying flat. My head was pounding, not only from the light but also from the movement.

He reached over and started moving the wheel on the side of the chair around, dropping the seat, and I let him, closing my eyes for the ride.

Act 4, Scene 4

Jack must have gotten us inside the gate somehow, though I have no idea how me managed that without waking me up and requiring me to ID myself. Somehow he did though I did wake up when he leaned over me and undid the seatbelt. It was a good thing I was still strapped in as I sat up the moment I felt someone near me, and almost banged my head against his. Naturally, that made him chuckle and he assured me it was 'only him'. He got out and waited for me to organise myself, and as I started to hop out I could see that somehow he had arranged for Nurse Bales and a wheelchair to be present.

Naturally, I did what any sensible person with a broken leg in a hot pink cast on a top secret military base would do. I glared at him and insisted that I was not going to make a spectacle of myself.

"I have a good reason. Trust me?" he asked, and with a few more protests I sat down in the chair. After all, I guess I could do this for him. And I did trust him, to a certain extent. Though that extent did not reach as far as Sarah Jane. After all, I may be trusting, but I wasn't a fool.

I let Nurse Bales wheel me around, following the Captain up and down various corridors without having a clue where we were going until we reached a closed door and he knocked, only to have it opened by one bruised and pale looking but otherwise mobile Samantha. She saw me and pulled me into a hug that was virtually strong enough to stop me breathing until she realised that making a patient of the doctor was not a good idea and she let go. Just as she did that I could hear Nurse Bales shoes dissapear down the hall.

"Sam, can you look after Harry until the debriefing? He still needs to write his reports. I have a few things I need to organise, " he asked and before I could get a word in edgewise, he had assured him that we would be fine and wheeled me inside. Then she hugged me again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were hurt that badly," she told me softly and I frowned. She hadn't asked me to do anything unreasonable while I was hurt. Besides, I wasn't hurt badly.

"I'm not hurt badly, its just a broken leg," I told her and she pulled back, glaring at me.

"And a concussion. The general has asked we all make sure our reports were ready before this meeting so the Captain loaded voice recognition software onto the pc. And I found a headset and a mic, so you can write your report verbally," she told me, taking the the chair away from the desk of the small office we were in and wheeling me into place.

"Have you heard anything about Shane? They wouldn't tell me anything at the hospital," I grumbled.

"He is expected to live. He's just forgotten the last five or six years of his life. He's forgotten everything," she said and I could almost hear the 'He's forgotten me,' at the end of it, and when I looked at her, the tears in her eyes confirmed it. I pulled her into a hug.

"Then that means you can help him remember, or if he never does, you can help him build new memories," I told her. She shook her head,

"It doesn't matter. I know he wouldn't be interested in me. Not with people like Rebecca around. And that sounds wrong, doesn't it? Speaking ill of the dead," she tried to conjure up a smile, and I took her by the hands

"Now listen to me Samantha, you are a lovely young woman, not to mention very capable and brave. Right now Shane is going to need every friend he can get to get him back on his feet. A lot of people are going to drop him because of this, because they can't deal with them remembering things he doesn't. So go out and be his friend. Be there for him, no matter how frustrating it may get for you. And let him know you're interested," I chided her gently. I hadn't seen her do any of that.

"I'm not sure I can," she told me.

"You don't strike me as the kind to drop a friend because of memory loss," I encouraged her gently.

"No, I mean, I don't think I can let him know I'm interested." Ah...that was a different issue.

"Ah. Well, bearing in mind of course that I'm unmarried and therefore obviously haven't been too successful, but be honest... He's going to find out that he was interested in Rebecca and that she died. If he asks, don't hide it from him. And be there for him. Notice the little things he forgets and help him with that. He'll notice. Or, I suppose, if you want to be horribly modern, you could ask him out, but that might be too much for him right now,"

She smiled at me and clicked a few buttons on the beastly machine in front of me, starting it up, and abruptly changed the subject by showing me how it worked and how to correct mistakes, then handed me the headset and mic so I could get started.

I spoke as calmly and as clearly as I could, until I reached the part where Ben died and Genevieve used those dratted tadpoles on us. Samantha must have noticed something, as a cup of steaming hot coffee appeared on the desk next to me, prompting me to remove my headphones and squint against the headache that was forming.

"Headache?" she guessed and I nodded, prompting her to leave the room and return again two minutes later with a pack of paracetamol, as well as my own bag of drugs. I wonder where she had got that?

"Physician, heal thyself," he told me, smiling gently and then left the room again, as I thanked her, telling me she would be right back. I closed my eyes and sat back waiting for the meds to kick in. I didn't open them again until I heard the door go and Samantha came up with a bowl of warm water, a towel, some shaving cream and an old fashioned straight razor. The only thing she had forgotten was a mirror, but I've shaved often enough in conditions without one that I can manage without.

I reached for them and she moved the shaving cream out of the way.

"If I'm going to be doing this for Shane, I'm going to need some practice. You don't mind if I practice on you, do you Doc?" she asked me pleadingly. I eyed the straight razor.

"You're asking to shave me with a straight razor while claiming to need practice?" I asked her dryly, and she turned those puppy dog eyes that ladies do so well on me. I admit that the effect was somewhat ruined by the camouflage uniform, but it worked. I sat back.

"Oh, all right. But just this once, " I told her. She smiled at me and put the bowl and other stuff down next to the computer, then came and stood in front of me as she first gently smeared cream all over me, and then shaved me. She had a very sure touch, and she definitely didn't need the practice. When she was done she handed me the towel, and I cleaned my face, feeling infinitely better for having been de-whiskered. I thanked her and she smiled shyly at me.

She left quietly, with the bowl and other stuff and I rubbed my chin as I looked at my report. I could do this now. With a deep breath, I started again.

It wasn't long before I was done, and when I was done I saved it, and took off the headphones. When I turned I could see Samantha sitting at one of the other computers, not typing, just watching me.

"I'm sorry, Doc. I never realised it got that bad," she told me and I shook my head.

"Don't be. You saved us. If you hadn't killed it, we would have all ended up like Shane, or worse," I told her, then turned back to the pc and typed a quick memo to the Captain to make sure she continue talk to the base psychs. She sounded like she needed it.

"You're not supposed to be typing," she reprimanded me gently just after I'd sent the memo, as I closed down my report and everything else she took hold of the chair and started wheeling me away, leaving the computer on.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back a bit later," she shushed me, and wheeled me to the mess. Oh, great, show a whole Mess Hall full of military men my hot pink cast. That was going to go over well.

I could hear a few guffaw and snickers, which were quickly silenced, though I didn't figure out why until the person in line next to me went to comment and Samantha verbally tore him to shreds for it. Remind me never to anger the lady.

We ate quickly, just the two of us, not speaking much, and then she wheeled me into the meeting room. We were the first ones there, and she got me seated, or my wheelchair, I should say, and then insisted on getting me coffee. As I sat there, I could see four meeting folders. Four, where there should have been six.

Samantha was back bare moments later with two cups of coffee, trailed by the Captain and the General.

The debriefing was like every other military debriefing. We went over our actions, justified them, and explained our reports where necessary, adding detail or elaborating to various questions. By the end of the afternoon my head was pounding.

"Doctor Sullivan, I want autopsy reports on the girl and on our people by tomorrow evening," the General ordered and I shook my head.

"That won't be possible General," I told him.

"Why not?" he challenged me.

"Because, General, even under the best of circumstances, a full autopsy takes several days. Not only does every limb and every muscle need to be examined, x-rays need to be taken, samples need to be taken, but after a more superficial examination the actual body has to be boiled to get to the bones so they can be examined as well. That takes a considerable amount of time. Three days would be a bare minimum, and that is with staff helping. Aside from that, I believe that it would be unethical for me to do an autopsy on any of them, as both Sergeant Richardson and Corporal Stephenson were on the same mission as I was and that would therefore constitute a conflict of interest," I told him.

"And the girl?" he asked next. Heaven help us all, he really did intend to make my life hard, didn't he. I closed my eyes for a moment. I really didn't want to verbalise this.

"Genevieve Sinnot was both the perpetrator of various violent actions against Doctor Sullivan and was under his care for a short period constituting a conflict of interest. Besides that, the NHS has signed him off for two weeks due to head injuries. He shouldn't even be here, General," Jack interjected, and the General sat back.

"Well, if we have no other choice, I suppose we will have to be dependent on one of the other doctors then. I suppose they are busy with the quarry victims, Captain?" he inquired, sounding disappointed. Jack nodded.

"They've done medicals on any injured parties, the others are being kept in quarantine. People who were in direct contact with the alien were scheduled for today and for yesterday. They've been told they have been in contact with a hallucinogenic agent, planted by terrorists," he reported. A reasonably plausible cover-up. Not as bad as some of those I've heard. It would probably be believed by most of them.

"Is it being accepted as a cover story?" The general inquired.

"By almost everyone. One individual, a Miss Sarah Jane Smith, formerly of UNIT, has already expressed an understanding of it being a cover-up. I will be debriefing her myself," he said, and my eyes met his across the table. We would be having words about this later.

The rest of the meeting was tedious, formalities mostly. Jack claimed that he would deal with informing the families, and I shuddered. That was not a job I relished, and one usually assigned to myself and whatever religious council the family had. In all fairness, I should have been doing these. I was there, after all, when all three of them died. I had been in charge of their health, and I had failed that.

As Samantha wheeled me out of the meeting room and away from the General, away from the Captain who was still going over some points with him, I yawned. It had been a long day, and my leg and my head were killing me. She wheeled me back to the room I had typed my reports, and picked up the prescription bag I had left there. Scanning the packet, she took out two painkiller and two muscle relaxants, handing them to me wordlessly. I thought about protesting, but it was well within the dosage limits, and to be honest, I needed them. I thought I was the doctor here though? She watched me take them, and with a muttered 'good' wheeled me back out and down the corridor, to where the Captain's office was. He was there waiting for us with Chinese takeaway on the desk.

Samantha demonstratively handed him the prescription bag, and then sat down. "It appears the good doctors concussion is affecting his memory. He keeps forgetting where he's left them as well as to take them," she reported. I can't imagine ever having spoken about my doctor that way to a superior officer. Then again, Jack seems to encourage it as he grinned and thanked her.

We spent the rest of the evening talking about pleasantly neutral things, music, the latest movies, and yes, even the weather, until Samantha chose to return to her room and the Captain gave me a choice.

"We're sending you home tomorrow. I've talked to the General and in light of your sick note, he's conceded," he grinned, "well, that and you refusing to do those autopsies. How would you like to go home?"

"I was right, though. Doing them would have constituted a conflict of duty. What about the parents, though?" I asked. Jack eyed me.

"That concussion still playing up? I'm talking to them tomorrow," he told me and that jogged my memory. Yes, he had said during the debriefing.

"I should go with you. I was there when they died," I told him and Jack nodded.

"If you want to, I'd appreciate the company. I've spoken to the chaplain, and he's coming with us as well," he told me. Good, that would most likely help them.

"What about Sarah Jane?" I asked seriously

"I'll get one of the doctors to do her medical while we're talking to the parents. Then I'll debrief her," he told me, then glanced at me. "You're off sick, and not doing it Doc. Besides, right now that's probably a bad idea,"

I couldn't help but feel hurt at that. I know it was, but dammit, I wanted to be certain she was alright.

"Besides, we have a more important question to answer right now. What are we doing with you? " I frowned and he pointed at my leg. "Can't leave you alone with a concussion and a broken leg, now, can we?"

"That's for the first twenty four hours only, Captain," I rebutted. I could see where this was headed. He cocked his head.

"You're telling me that you're completely mobile and if you had to get up in the middle of the night, you could?" he asked me, humour in his eyes.

"Yes," I told him seriously.

"I believe you. Having said that, you have a choice, Doc. You can spend the night in Infirmary with Nurse Bales, being woken up regularly, or you can spend it in a guest room with me at your beck and call. Which is it going to be?" he asked.

"How about the guest room alone?" I suggested. Actually the guest room with Sarah Jane would suit me fine, even if I knew that by now nothing would happen between us. I trusted her a lot more than him. I suppose that wouldn't be acceptable from a fraternisation standpoint though. Jack shook his head.

"Not acceptable. It's me or Bales, your choice. I already promised not to hit on you," he pointed out.

"Oh all right, I'll take the guest room," I grumbled. He really is a pushy man. He grinned and wheeled us there.

I woke up or was woken up several times that night, and only the last one did I blame on pain of the leg. I say blame and not attribute, because it wasn't entirely correct.

The first time I woke up as I tried turning over and couldn't because of the cast. Looking around, I could see the good Captain still in the chair next to the bed, his jacket over him. He clearly intended to sleep there. That was unacceptable, he would wake up very stiff and sore. I know, I've done it.

"If you can abide by the agreement we had while we were in the bed and breakfast, then I suggest you come here and lay down," I told him softly, in the darkness. I heard a slight chuckle and the Captain shifted and I felt the bed next to me dip. He thanked me and wished me a good night and I fell asleep again.

The second time I woke up it was because of someone outside stumbling around. Looking the other way I could see the Captain had woken up as well as he had his gun out until the disturbance passed. The fact that he felt concerned enough to sleep with a gun under his pillow spoke magnitudes to me about this man.

The third time I woke up it was in the pre dawn hour, though not light not having a window in the room. I woke up to Jack whimpering softly. Without any light I couldn't see anything, but I heard it again as I waited, and I was reasonably certain he was having a nightmare.

"Captain? Jack?" I spoke to him softly, and I heard his breath hitch, and then stop for a moment.

"I'm sorry to wake you Jack, but I'm afraid I need some help," I fabricated. It wouldn't do to let him know that I knew that he had been upset. I felt some movements to my side, and then a rather congested sounding Jack replied.

"Yeah, Doc? What's up?"

"I think I may need some of those painkillers. I left them in the bathroom, could you get them for me?" I asked. Movement was good to break the sleep cycle. If he came back and slept again the nightmare wouldn't continue. Besides, my leg was slightly achy. Nothing serious, but it wasn't a total lie.

"Sure, Doc," he replied and I felt the bed shift as he got out to get them. It wasn't long before he was back, with a glass and two painkillers and two of the muscle relaxants. More than I'd asked for, but I wasn't going to argue. Not now. By the light of the nightlight he had put on, he looked pale and slightly red eyed, but I wasn't going to comment. Grief is a private thing.

After saying our goodnights again, we both slept again for another few hours, until we were woken up by the commotion of people going on shift outside.

Act 4, Scene 5

Jack and I arrived at the Mess Hall relatively late, with most of its occupants having cleared out or clearing out as we walked in. Well, Jack walked and I rolled in. The cast was to blame as of course, trying to shower was impossible and I had had to settle for a bath. Unfortunately, the way the bathroom was set up that meant that my back was to the taps, and my leg was hanging over the edge. I have been in more comfortable positions, but at least I was clean again. The Captain had graciously waited until I was finished, even though he had showered before me. I had let him keep the illusion of me not noticing he had left the bed in the morning. In truth, I had never got back to sleep properly, dozing fitfully.

Shortly after we started breaking our fast, a slight man with a dogs collar and a cross around his neck approached our table. That would be the company chaplain, I assumed, and this was confirmed when he and the Captain greeted each other. Father John Nevis had already eaten, it appeared.

We set the order being simply based on time on the physical location of the families. First we would visit Rebecca's family, then Ben's and as last the Sinnot family. I was in some ways relieved that one was last as that was the one I thought we would have the most trouble with, being a civilian death and a child at that.

We set off in the four by four, our chaplain driving as I was unable to and Jack wanted to call and see what he could arrange in terms of knowing when the bodies would be released for burial. Well, the remains of the bodies. Autopsies unfortunately don't leave much left over that is untouched, especially not if cause of death needs to be thoroughly investigated. It is almost an additional desecration of the body.

Rebecca's family lived in a terraced house, in the middle of a working class neighbourhood. It looked clean and well maintained, and Jack rung the bell the woman who answered had to be Rebecca's mother. She had the same looks. She seemed to have the same temperament as well, as here eyes darted from Jack in his uniform, to me in mine, and after a short detour around my cast, over to the good Father. She brought her hand up to her mouth for a moment, then opened the door wider.

"Come in. Is it Rebecca, or is it Robert?" she asked, and I remembered him from Rebecca's file. Her twin, also in the military, though stationed abroad. Jack took his hat off as he entered, as did I.

"I'm afraid we're here about Rebecca, Ma'am," he told her, and motioned for her to sit down and introduced us. I looked around. Several younger children were playing. It looked like Rebecca's brothers and sisters were of a similar temperament too. Mrs Stephenson asked them to play outside and obediently they left. It looks like she had raised them well.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Mrs Stephenson asked us, her voice hardly breaking.

"Yes, Ma'am. She died two days ago, while keeping two other officers safe from terrorists," Jack told her. That was the cover story we had decided on, as I had suspected. Terrorist attack.

Mrs Stephenson brought her hand up to her mouth again, but she stayed composed. I could see where Rebecca had inherited that trait.

"What happened?" She asked.

"We can't give out the exact details, Ma'am, but I can tell you that she knew what she was doing, and she chose to do it to save the lives of myself and another officer. She was extremely brave. Her last acts were ones of defiance to those who killed her," I told her. She looked me over, me and the cast.

"Was she in pain?" I shook my head.

"She wouldn't have felt anything for more than a second or two. She asked me to tell you that she loved you," I carefully omitted that I suspected she had been tortured before she had been shot. That she had felt one of those tadpoles on her skin. After all, I didn't know for sure and it wouldn't help her mother any. Mrs Stephenson nodded, stood up and walked to the phone. She dialled a number quickly, and from memory, and then spoke into the receiver. I couldn't hear what she was saying. She then came back to where we were sitting.

"My husband will be home shortly. We will contact our own spiritual council. Thank you for coming," she told us. I know a dismissal when I hear one. Jack and the chaplain both said a few words to her, handing her their card before leaving. When it was my turn, I had neither.

"I know it isn't my place to say, but I was proud to have served with Rebecca. She was a fine officer," I told her mother, and Mrs Stephenson nodded, and even smiled slightly. Then I tipped my hat and hobbled out after Jack and Father Nevis.

Jack was waiting by the car, and helped me in. He let me strap myself in this time as he climbed in the back.

"She took that better than I expected," he commented just as we drove away.

"I suspect she is a very private person," I told him.

"I hope she receives the support she needs," Father Nevis said next to me. I was slightly surprised, he had been quiet aside from anything where his input was asked for, or talking to Mrs Stephenson. I had almost forgotten him.

"She was calling someone. She'll be alright," I reassured him, and we lapsed into silence as we drove across town to the Richardson family.

In contrast to the Stephenson family, the Richardson family had obviously done well for themselves, as they lived in a detached house surrounded by a high wall inside a neighbourhood having the same and we had to be buzzed at the gate. The door was opened by a butler of some kind, not that many people I know of still have one, who offered to take our jackets. We were then shown into a sitting room, and the lady of the house, Mrs Richardson was called.

Fifteen minutes later she finally showed, just as I was stretching my leg and cast a bit. It was aching again, but as she came in I stood, followed shortly by the Captain and Father Nevis. Mrs Richardson swept in and took us in, blanching slightly and sitting down.

"Its Ben isn't it? My baby is hurt!" she asked, and Jack took over again.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I'm afraid Sergeant Ben Richardson died in action two days ago," he told her gently, then reached over to comfort her as she started sobbing. She clung to him, repeating the words 'my baby!' over and over until I was tempted to prescribe her sedatives. Unfortunately, I was still signed off and I know Jack would have noticed.

While Jack and the Father were trying to soothe her, I stuck my head out the door and spotted the butler. He promised to bring her a nice cup of tea and to call her brother as well as her priest. Her brother arrived within minutes, glaring at us.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, taking her into his arms. "Why have you upset my sister like this?"

"I'm sorry Sir, but Sergeant Ben Richardson died two days ago while in action," Jack told him again, as I brought over a cup of tea from the tray the butler brought in for Mrs Richardson.

"How and why? Who else was involved?" he demanded.

"He probably died from heart failure, brought on by the actions perpetrated against him," I told him.

"And you are?" he demanded again.

"Doctor Harold Sullivan," I told him.

"And what is a doctor doing judging over military personnel? " he sneered. Ah, maybe I should correct myself.

"Doctor Sullivan was gracious enough to lend us his expertise," Jack said.

"Doctor Harold Sullivan, formerly serving in the Navy, UNIT and MI5 and now assigned to a special task force as medical adviser," I corrected. "I was also there when Sergeant Richardson died,"

"Then why didn't you save him?" his mother asked me and stood up, walking in front of me. Then she slapped me, with enough force to send my head sideways. That stung! She reached up to do it again, and I caught her wrist before the blow could land.

"If I could have saved him, I would. I tried and I failed. Having said that Ma'am, assault is not an acceptable course of action," I told her sternly pulling her hand down. Her brother took her in his arms.

"I suggest you leave. The butler will show you out," He said coldly.

"I think we will. The legal department will contact you," Jack replied, leaving the room. We followed. My face still stung, though I knew on some level I had deserved it.

Father Nevis and the Captain left their cards with the Butler, and after a few words we were ready to leave.

I for one was more than happy to see the end of this part of the day.

"Do you want to press charges?" Jack asked once we were seated. I shook my head.

"No. She was grieving. Let legal handle it over the telephone from here on in though," I advised. I wasn't going to hold one act in a moment of grief against someone, especially as they would get off on a temporary insanity plea anyway if it ever did come to court. Who knows how I might have reacted, were it my son. If I'd had sons of course.

"I think we need a break and some food though," Father Nevis suggested, and I had to agree. I closed my eyes as he drove, trying to soothe the savage beast inside my head, and only opened them again when we stopped. The concussion was still giving me headaches, not that I was surprised, as they can persist for some weeks after the initial trauma.

The Captain and the priest were both eyeing me as I opened my eyes, at which point I was ordered to stay in the car while Father Nevis and I had a silent stare-down.

"Have you spoken to anyone about your feelings yet?" Father Nevis asked me suddenly, catching me by surprised.

"We discussed what happened during debriefing," I told him.

"That doesn't answer the question," he chided me. I looked out the window. When exactly was I supposed to have had time to talk about all this?

"No, Father, I haven't," I admitted.

"Promise me you will? If not myself, then one of the base psychologists, or even a friend?" He asked me, insistently.

"Who's promising who what?" Jack asked through the window, startling both of us as he reached in and deposited a paper back that smelled of food.

"Doctor Sullivan was just going to promise me to talk to myself, a base psychologist or a friend of his about how he feels about this," Father Nevis explained. Drats. Cornered. Jack chuckled.

"Provided that friend is in the circle of people who needs to know, I think it is a very good idea. What do you say, Doc; gonna talk to someone and take your meds?" he asked me, watching me in the rear view mirror after he handed me a burger and chips. I nodded slowly.

"As soon as I feel up to it I'll talk to someone and yes, I will," I agreed. Well, maybe I'd talk to someone. I think I'd just as soon forget it. Anyway, Sarah Jane, the person in who I've always been able to confide everything wasn't going to be there. I guess I didn't really need to break in a new confidant.

"And take your meds?" he reminded me, and with a sigh I took them out. "Doctors really do make the worst patients," Jack told the Father in the front, and I wish he had turned around so I could at least glare at him. As it is I took my capsules and finished my burger. It was greasy though and wasn't sitting well with the meds, so I left the chips.

The drive to Genevieve's parents was a quiet one, as I sat with my eyes closed again and neither of my companions felt the need to disturb the sound of silence, or at least the hush of the car until we got there. When they stopped it, I could see a lone house in a row of other ones that was guarded by a police man. Somehow I just knew that had to be the place.

The three of us approached and he PC tried to stop us, but Jack held up his ID and we were let through the double door system, unlocked as it was. Inside we were approached by another PC and Jack took him aside for a moment, murmuring softly after which he nodded and went into the room, only to be followed out of the room again by two more police officers who eyed us curiously, but did nothing bar nod. Jack and myself took off our hats and we went inside.

Genevieve had obviously been the younger of the siblings, as when we entered the room I could see an older man, her father by the resemblance, a middle aged lady, and another girl. All had an air of despondency around them, and red-rimmed eyes. The girl was sitting close to her mother, huddled together almost. As we came in the father stood up quickly.

"Genevieve? Do you have any news?" he asked us anxiously, not bothering to wait with introductions.

"I'm sorry Sir, your daughter died two days ago," Jack told him gently. I watched he father face contort for a moment before he remembered is manners. He motioned to his wife, now holding her sobbing daughter.

"My wife, Isabel, our daughter Elizabeth. I'm William Sinnot. Please, sit down. What happened?" he asked. We sat down, and Jack introduced us. " Genevieve was involved in an incident two days ago several miles from here. She and approximately two hundred other individuals were held hostage. During our attempts free everyone, there was considerable structural damage to the building she was in, and she was trapped under part of the roof," he told her. William nodded and bowed his head for a moment.

"Why weren't we told she was a hostage?" Isabel asked quietly.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, we hadn't confirmed all the identities of all the hostages yet," Jack apologised.

"Was she alone? Was she in pain?" her father asked, a frown on his face. I shook my head.

"I was with her from a few minutes after she was trapped. She was lucid and aware of what was happening. She..." I hesitated for a moment, not sure how to say this without giving away what really happened, but still not wanting to lie. "She was aware of what had happened and what was happening. She made her peace with God and she knew God had forgiven her her trespasses. She asked me to tell you she loved you," I took a deep breath, trying to keep my breathing calm. She hadn't deserved what happened to her.

"Thank you Doctor. I'm glad she had you there for her. God bless you," her father told me, and when I compared the quiet dignity of their grief, I had to respect their attitude.

"We're sorry for your loss," Captain Jack told him, and I could see Father Nevis moving over to speak to the Sinnot ladies.

"It was God's will to take her home," William Sinnot told us, but it sounded more to me like he was trying to convince himself.

"I don't know if it helps any, but she was very brave. She knew what was happening, and she acted with grace and dignity. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for her. Her last thoughts were of her family and her mother singing," I told him, and he managed a small smile.

"You were there for her when she needed someone. Did she tell you anything specific?" he asked, and I got the feeling it was important to them.

"She wanted to hear 'All things bright and beautiful'. That is what I was singing when she died," I told him, and tried to swallow away the lump in my throat. After all, it was his daughter, not mine, and if he could keep up a stiff upper lip then so could I. He nodded.

"That was always one of her favourites. Thank you Doctor," he said softly, and went to sit next to his wife and daughter. It wasn't long before Captain Harkness had a few words with Captain Nevis, and he then motioned me outside.

"Father Nevis will be along later," he told me and motioned me inside. I climbed in and we drove back to base slowly and carefully.

"I'm going to send you home with a driver before this hits the news and we need to start handing out D-notices. I don't want you linked to this," he told me and suppression of the press, though unusual, made sense. Well, some of it would be suppressed. I was also rather surprised at the speed at which the captain appeared to want to get rid of me. I have to say I felt less than useful right there and then, but I couldn't disagreed with his reasoning. I also knew better then to ask him to keep me posted on the outcomes of the autopsies and the cases. That was need to know information and I no longer needed to know.

Jack pulled up at the base, again having somehow just been waved through the usually stringent security. One of these days I want to know how he did it. He let me hop out and led me to the now vacant cantine, telling me to sit down and wait. He didn't even leave me a magazine though, and it wasn't long before I was looking at the notice board. Naturally, that is where I was when Samantha came in, carrying a large carrier bag.

"Shouldn't you be sitting down, sir?" she asked me, and I had the feeling the last honorific was only used out of force of habit. I took the bag she held out and I could see my clothes in there. My civvies. Time to get out of uniform, again, I guess.

"Actually I think I'll change, " I suggested, and she took the bag back from me. It was easier to handle the crutches without it, I admit. She put handed it back at the door of the gents, leaving me to figure out how put my trousers on over the cast. Deciding on putting the shirt on first, I found she had wrapped a pair of scissors in them. Bless, she had obviously thought that one out.

I regretted ruining the trousers, as they were a good pair, and it felt decidedly odd to be out of uniform again, even after only a few days in it. When I came out of the mens room both Jack and Samantha were waiting for me, with another bag, a small one this time. Looking in it, I found my watch, my driving licence, a sandwich, bar of chocolate and a drink. Provisions for the trip. I wonder which one of the two I had to thank for it?

"Your driver is outside, Doc, just tell him where you want to go and he'll take you there," Jack told me and handed me his card. "And if you ever need anything, call," he said. He held his hand out and as I nodded and went to shake it he pulled me into a hug, almost unbalancing me. It was a friendly hug, and he didn't renege on his agreement. It was pleasant. That, of course, gave Samantha a reason to do the same, as she pulled me in a hug next.

"Take care of yourself, Doc, and that leg of yours," she told me softly.

"You take care of yourself, and that young man of yours," I told her with a smile and a wink. She blushed at that, so I hoped she was getting somewhere. Then they walked me outside, where we called out our goodbyes and waved, and as I buckled up, the driver asked me where I wanted to go. I gave him Megabyte and Adam's address. After all, I had a dog to retrieve, and if we skipped dinner I could be home in time to disturb them at a civilised hour.

The End.