In the end Saskia went to the library and picked up the poetry book she'd been reading a couple of days ago. But she couldn't concentrate on the words properly and she found herself wishing, momentarily, that she was at home in her apartment where she could put on some soothing music. She knew that she could go to the Control Room and listen to music via the console, but she hesitated. What she really wanted was to be on her own for a bit.
The TARDIS hummed at her so she reached out to touch the wall and found herself looking at a room she'd never seen before, a room that held a music centre and a home cinema system. Oh thank you, she said to the TARDIS. She took the book with her and went to her room to collect one of the few music recordings that she had brought from home. She made her way to the room the TARDIS directed her to, and went inside. It only took her a few minutes to figure out how to use the music system and she slipped the disc into the player, picked up the remote control, then settled herself with her book on the large leather sofa that was set against the back wall of the room.
The Doctor spent nearly an hour checking the TARDIS' systems before going to find Saskia. He assumed he'd find her in the library or her room, but she was in neither. Then the TARDIS hummed at him. In the cinema, is she? I suppose you told her where to find it? He knew he'd never mentioned its existence to Saskia, though he and Rose had used it a few times. He headed down the corridors, wondering if Saskia had found a good film to watch. He opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was engrossed, and realised that she was listening to some music instead. He put his head around the door and spotted Saskia lying full length on the sofa, her head on a cushion and her feet up on one of its arms.
"Saskia?"
She didn't stir, so he walked softly across the room and looked down at her sleeping face and the poetry book lying open beside her. The Doctor hesitated for a moment, then perched on the other arm of the sofa and picked up the book to see what she had been reading. He found it was open at a poem called 'Burnt Norton' and began to read:
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
Interesting ideas, thought the Doctor as he put the book aside again. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on the music, wondering what the piece was called, but feeling too comfortable to get up and look. He was drifting towards sleep himself when Saskia suddenly cried out in her sleep. His eyes snapped open and he looked down at her, guessing that she was having a nightmare. She cried out again and began to shake. He slipped off the arm of the sofa onto the seat beside her and touched her shoulder. "Saskia." He called her name softly, not wanting to startle her awake. She mumbled something indistinct and he brushed his right hand across her forehead. Saskia. Her eyes fluttered open then closed again. Saskia.
The third time he called her name, her eyes opened properly and she looked up to see the Doctor looking down at her, concern in his deep brown eyes. She frowned, momentarily puzzled about where she was.
"Hello," he said gently.
"Hello." She pulled herself upright and swung her legs round so that she was sitting up again.
"Are you OK?" the Doctor asked, still looking concerned.
She nodded.
"Nightmare?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Saskia shook her head. "I was dreaming about Jackson, that's all." She picked up the cushion beside her and hugged it absent-mindedly. The Doctor shifted across the sofa to sit beside her and put his arm round her shoulders. She put the cushion aside, then turned and put her head on his shoulder, glad of his comforting presence.
"What's the music?" the Doctor asked after a few minutes.
"It's the Elgar Cello Concerto," Saskia said.
"It's lovely. I can see why you like it so much." He paused thoughtfully. "You know we could try again to get to a live performance.”
“That would be nice," Saskia answered.
"Do you know of any that you'd have liked to have attended?"
"There are two – but one wasn't open to the public and I doubt that even your psychic paper could get us into that one."
"Oh?" The Doctor looked intrigued.
"It was a live recording by Jacqueline du Pre – that's the one that's playing now. It's the most celebrated recording of the 20th century. It features a full orchestra, the conductor and the soloist all in one recording session."
The Doctor frowned. "You may be right about that one – I don't think I could get us in. What's the other one?"
"In the early 21st century Julian Lloyd Webber did two live performances on the 150th anniversary of Elgar's birth. One was at Worcester Cathedral, and the other at the Royal Albert Hall in London," Saskia said.
"Two live performances on the same day?" asked the Doctor.
Saskia nodded. "He was flown from Worcester to London."
"Wow!" The Doctor rubbed the back of his head, thinking. "So which one do you want to go to?"
"The evening one in London." She smiled suddenly. "We'll have to put on our glad rags again," she said.
The Doctor smiled back. "Let's go for it then. I'll meet you in the Control Room shortly."
Saskia found herself talking to the TARDIS as she changed. I'd really like to go this concert, she said. Please can we get to London on June 2, 2007? The TARDIS hummed back at her and she smiled. Thanks.
Showing posts with label Oxford Ostinato. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oxford Ostinato. Show all posts
15 April 2007
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 4 Part 2
"So, I still have some unanswered questions," the Doctor said.
"Do you expect me to answer them?" Inglesham's tone was disbelieving.
"Yes I do," the Doctor answered calmly. "One person, no matter what their situation, cannot be allowed to get away with illegal experiments, particularly if the subjects have not given their permission. So I ask you again, why did you clone musicians?"
Inglesham gave the Doctor a considering look and Saskia sensed him deciding that he would answer the Doctor because he couldn't believe the Doctor could stop him.
"I wanted to see if it was possible to clone talented people so that the clones shared the same talents. I'm starting with musicians and artists, then I'll move on to mathematicians and scientists. So long as the clones have their talents, I'll know it's safe to clone a really talented man like myself."
"You're a very talented man," the Doctor agreed. "But that doesn't give you the right to do what you've done. So my next question is this – how did you do it, given humanity's cloning technology isn't advanced enough yet?"
"I used advanced technology designed by my own people, but built here, and the facility that my own people have for extracting and passing on genetic materials. The combination of the two allows me to create viable adult clones in just 24 hours." Inglesham's formerly icy tone had become slightly more animated, and both Saskia and the Doctor noticed that he sounded a little smug now. "I could give you a demonstration, if you like?"
"I wouldn't, thank you," the Doctor answered swiftly as he felt Saskia's mind recoil from Inglesham's in horror. He wants to clone me! she said, revolted.
I won't let him do that, I promise you! the Doctor answered. Aloud he asked, "Did you really think I would agree to a demonstration?"
"What makes you think you can stop me?" asked Inglesham. "There are only two of you, and your friend here is a little 'tied up', shall we say?"
Saskia flinched at his attempt at humour.
"Actually there are four of us," the Doctor answered. "You can come in now boys," he called, without dropping his gaze from Inglesham's face.
Saskia saw Steve and Martin walk into the basement and guessed that these were the other two clones Inglesham had created. Both men were glaring intently at Inglesham and she sensed their revulsion at what he had done to them.
Inglesham didn't look concerned by their appearance. "Stanley, Ned, deal with them," he snapped, stepping back towards the head of Saskia's bed. Both of his men rushed at the musicians as the Doctor sprang forward and used his Sonic Screwdriver to undo the straps that were holding Saskia to the bed. She immediately swung her legs around and stood up, then snatched Inglesham's cane from him. He started to fall and the Doctor shoved the hospital bed towards him so that he fell awkwardly onto it. Inglesham cried out in pain and both Saskia and the Doctor winced when they heard a bone snap.
His arm's broken, Saskia said.
He'll live for now, the Doctor answered. "Call your men off," he hissed at Inglesham as he and Saskia lifted him bodily up onto the bed and strapped him down.
"Never," Inglesham answered hoarsely.
"If you call them off, I'll help you," the Doctor said desperately.
Saskia looked over at the four men fighting in the middle of the room. The musicians were getting the worst of it, neither of them having any experience of fighting, as Ned and Stanley clearly did. As she watched Ned knocked Steve down and he crashed awkwardly against the wall. She heard another sickening snap of breaking bones.
"Doctor," she said urgently.
The Doctor looked up, saw that Steve was down, and noticed what Saskia had not, his neck was broken. "Steve's dead Saskia," he said quietly, then looked back at Inglesham. "Call them off. Don't have any more deaths on your hands."
Inglesham glared at him. "Why should I believe that you will help me?" he asked.
"Why shouldn’t you believe me?" countered the Doctor.
Saskia glanced over again at the fighting men. Martin had picked up a wooden chair and backed himself into a corner, clearly hoping to keep Ned and Stanley at bay.
The Doctor looked up again. "Come on," he said to Saskia. "Let's see if we can at least even the odds." He and Saskia rushed across the room together.
I'll take Ned, she said and launched herself at him. The Doctor barrelled into Stanley and both men were knocked aside from their attack on Martin.
"RUN!" yelled the Doctor and Martin needed no second bidding. He dropped the chair and raced out of the room. Saskia heard him running up the stairs as she picked herself up from the floor. The Doctor was already on his feet. He grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's get after him and get out of here. I want to get that lad to somewhere safe."
They ran upstairs together and came out into the main hallway.
"Where is he?" asked the Doctor.
"In a room at the back of the house on this floor," Saskia answered. "But there's someone with him."
The Doctor cursed briefly in Gallifreyan. "Inglesham's other man," he said. "I left him unconscious. He must have woken up." He ran towards the back of the house with Saskia close behind him.
"Someone's been knocked out," Saskia said, feeling the man's mind go dark, like seeing a candle that had been blown out. The Doctor rushed to the end of the corridor and threw open the door. He stopped just over the threshold and Saskia saw why. Martin was also dead, his body sprawled on the floor where Inglesham's man had throw him during their fight. Inglesham's man had a wild angry look in his eye that chilled Saskia. She grabbed the Doctor's hand. I don't think we can reason with him, she said.
Not for the moment, at least, the Doctor agreed. Let's get out of here and call the authorities in. They backed out of the room, then turned and ran to the front door. The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and unlocked it, then they ran outside and around the house. The Doctor pulled out his mobile phone and tossed it to Saskia.
"Ring 999 and ask for the police and an ambulance. I'll call the TARDIS." They ran on down the drive and out onto the road where they finally paused to catch their breath.
Saskia looked down at the phone, then punched the 9 button three times. She spoke to an operator and requested an ambulance and the police. "They want to know where to send them," she told the Doctor, who took the phone from her and spoke rapidly to the operator, describing the location of the house. As he finished speaking the TARDIS dematerialised wheezily behind him. Saskia walked over to the familiar Police Box and leant against the side, feeling weary and sick at what had happened to the two musicians.
The Doctor pocketed his mobile phone and the Sonic Screwdriver, then walked over to Saskia. He held out his arms and she hugged him, glad that he was there.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"You go and make some tea while I talk to the police. We'll get out of here just as soon as we can," he answered.
"Make sure you tell them about the body in the wood," Saskia said.
"What body?" asked the Doctor in surprise.
"That's what landed us in this situation," Saskia said, and explained how she had seen Stanley carrying a body into the woods whilst she was running alongside the river.
"That may have been the clone of Marie," the Doctor observed. "We know he created three clones, but we've only seen the two men."
Saskia looked at the Doctor in horror. "So all three of the clones are dead?" she asked bitterly.
The Doctor nodded grimly. Moments later they both heard the sound of sirens approaching. "Go and make that tea," he said.
"Do you want some?" Saskia asked as she unlocked the door of the TARDIS.
"I'll get some when I've finished talking to the police. I've no idea how long that will take."
She nodded and went inside. She decided to have a shower first and change out of her running clothes before making the tea. After her shower she took her clothes and towels to the laundry room and put them into the washing machine along with some things of the Doctor's that were sitting in a wicker basket. Then she went to the kitchen to make a mug of tea and ate a banana whilst she waited for the water to boil. She had just made a large mug of tea when the Doctor walked into the kitchen, his tie pulled askew and his hair sticking up wildly. Saskia wondered if he'd been clutching it in frustration.
"The water's only just boiled," she told him.
"Hmm? Oh, water. Yes thanks."
Saskia sensed that the Doctor was unhappy about something, but he was keeping his thoughts from her. "What is it?" she asked as he sat down with his own mug of tea.
"Inglesham's dead," he answered.
"How did he die?"
"The police think either Ned or Stanley killed him. And all three of his men have disappeared.
Saskia scowled at his news. "Did they find the body in the wood?" she asked.
"Yes, and it was the clone of Marie. She'd been given an overdose of barbiturate."
They sat silently for a few minutes, drinking their tea.
"What are we going to do now?" Saskia asked bleakly.
"We're going to find somewhere nice and quiet to spend a few days. Somewhere without monsters, if we can manage it, and that includes monstrous humanoids."
"That would be nice."
The Doctor noticed Saskia's wistful tone. "You should go and get some sleep," he told her. "What with two nightmares last night and a nightmarish morning as well, you must be exhausted."
Saskia nodded. "I will sleep, in a little while," she answered.
"Are you worried about having more nightmares?" he asked.
"A little," admitted Saskia. "I've been wondering whether that second nightmare I had was actually about the clone of Marie, rather than Marie herself."
"I don't suppose we'll find that out," the Doctor said thoughtfully.
"No. And there's no way, either, of knowing why I suddenly had a dream related to actual events," Saskia pointed out.
"Would Dr Karg know?"
"I don't know. He might, I suppose. There's only one way to find out for sure though."
"Shall we go to Einfuhlung for a few days, then?" asked the Doctor.
"Well you did say you wanted to go somewhere quiet. And we did promise to have lunch with Dr Karg again, which we haven't yet done."
"OK then. We'll got to Einfuhlung for some R&R." The Doctor looked pleased at the prospect. "I've got to go and do some maintenance checks on the TARDIS' systems," he said, getting to his feet.
"Do you want a hand?" Saskia asked.
The Doctor shook his head. "I'll come and find you when I've finished. Try to get some rest."
"OK." Saskia watched the Doctor go and thought that she ought to take his advice, but she remained sitting at the kitchen table for a while longer.
"Do you expect me to answer them?" Inglesham's tone was disbelieving.
"Yes I do," the Doctor answered calmly. "One person, no matter what their situation, cannot be allowed to get away with illegal experiments, particularly if the subjects have not given their permission. So I ask you again, why did you clone musicians?"
Inglesham gave the Doctor a considering look and Saskia sensed him deciding that he would answer the Doctor because he couldn't believe the Doctor could stop him.
"I wanted to see if it was possible to clone talented people so that the clones shared the same talents. I'm starting with musicians and artists, then I'll move on to mathematicians and scientists. So long as the clones have their talents, I'll know it's safe to clone a really talented man like myself."
"You're a very talented man," the Doctor agreed. "But that doesn't give you the right to do what you've done. So my next question is this – how did you do it, given humanity's cloning technology isn't advanced enough yet?"
"I used advanced technology designed by my own people, but built here, and the facility that my own people have for extracting and passing on genetic materials. The combination of the two allows me to create viable adult clones in just 24 hours." Inglesham's formerly icy tone had become slightly more animated, and both Saskia and the Doctor noticed that he sounded a little smug now. "I could give you a demonstration, if you like?"
"I wouldn't, thank you," the Doctor answered swiftly as he felt Saskia's mind recoil from Inglesham's in horror. He wants to clone me! she said, revolted.
I won't let him do that, I promise you! the Doctor answered. Aloud he asked, "Did you really think I would agree to a demonstration?"
"What makes you think you can stop me?" asked Inglesham. "There are only two of you, and your friend here is a little 'tied up', shall we say?"
Saskia flinched at his attempt at humour.
"Actually there are four of us," the Doctor answered. "You can come in now boys," he called, without dropping his gaze from Inglesham's face.
Saskia saw Steve and Martin walk into the basement and guessed that these were the other two clones Inglesham had created. Both men were glaring intently at Inglesham and she sensed their revulsion at what he had done to them.
Inglesham didn't look concerned by their appearance. "Stanley, Ned, deal with them," he snapped, stepping back towards the head of Saskia's bed. Both of his men rushed at the musicians as the Doctor sprang forward and used his Sonic Screwdriver to undo the straps that were holding Saskia to the bed. She immediately swung her legs around and stood up, then snatched Inglesham's cane from him. He started to fall and the Doctor shoved the hospital bed towards him so that he fell awkwardly onto it. Inglesham cried out in pain and both Saskia and the Doctor winced when they heard a bone snap.
His arm's broken, Saskia said.
He'll live for now, the Doctor answered. "Call your men off," he hissed at Inglesham as he and Saskia lifted him bodily up onto the bed and strapped him down.
"Never," Inglesham answered hoarsely.
"If you call them off, I'll help you," the Doctor said desperately.
Saskia looked over at the four men fighting in the middle of the room. The musicians were getting the worst of it, neither of them having any experience of fighting, as Ned and Stanley clearly did. As she watched Ned knocked Steve down and he crashed awkwardly against the wall. She heard another sickening snap of breaking bones.
"Doctor," she said urgently.
The Doctor looked up, saw that Steve was down, and noticed what Saskia had not, his neck was broken. "Steve's dead Saskia," he said quietly, then looked back at Inglesham. "Call them off. Don't have any more deaths on your hands."
Inglesham glared at him. "Why should I believe that you will help me?" he asked.
"Why shouldn’t you believe me?" countered the Doctor.
Saskia glanced over again at the fighting men. Martin had picked up a wooden chair and backed himself into a corner, clearly hoping to keep Ned and Stanley at bay.
The Doctor looked up again. "Come on," he said to Saskia. "Let's see if we can at least even the odds." He and Saskia rushed across the room together.
I'll take Ned, she said and launched herself at him. The Doctor barrelled into Stanley and both men were knocked aside from their attack on Martin.
"RUN!" yelled the Doctor and Martin needed no second bidding. He dropped the chair and raced out of the room. Saskia heard him running up the stairs as she picked herself up from the floor. The Doctor was already on his feet. He grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's get after him and get out of here. I want to get that lad to somewhere safe."
They ran upstairs together and came out into the main hallway.
"Where is he?" asked the Doctor.
"In a room at the back of the house on this floor," Saskia answered. "But there's someone with him."
The Doctor cursed briefly in Gallifreyan. "Inglesham's other man," he said. "I left him unconscious. He must have woken up." He ran towards the back of the house with Saskia close behind him.
"Someone's been knocked out," Saskia said, feeling the man's mind go dark, like seeing a candle that had been blown out. The Doctor rushed to the end of the corridor and threw open the door. He stopped just over the threshold and Saskia saw why. Martin was also dead, his body sprawled on the floor where Inglesham's man had throw him during their fight. Inglesham's man had a wild angry look in his eye that chilled Saskia. She grabbed the Doctor's hand. I don't think we can reason with him, she said.
Not for the moment, at least, the Doctor agreed. Let's get out of here and call the authorities in. They backed out of the room, then turned and ran to the front door. The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and unlocked it, then they ran outside and around the house. The Doctor pulled out his mobile phone and tossed it to Saskia.
"Ring 999 and ask for the police and an ambulance. I'll call the TARDIS." They ran on down the drive and out onto the road where they finally paused to catch their breath.
Saskia looked down at the phone, then punched the 9 button three times. She spoke to an operator and requested an ambulance and the police. "They want to know where to send them," she told the Doctor, who took the phone from her and spoke rapidly to the operator, describing the location of the house. As he finished speaking the TARDIS dematerialised wheezily behind him. Saskia walked over to the familiar Police Box and leant against the side, feeling weary and sick at what had happened to the two musicians.
The Doctor pocketed his mobile phone and the Sonic Screwdriver, then walked over to Saskia. He held out his arms and she hugged him, glad that he was there.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"You go and make some tea while I talk to the police. We'll get out of here just as soon as we can," he answered.
"Make sure you tell them about the body in the wood," Saskia said.
"What body?" asked the Doctor in surprise.
"That's what landed us in this situation," Saskia said, and explained how she had seen Stanley carrying a body into the woods whilst she was running alongside the river.
"That may have been the clone of Marie," the Doctor observed. "We know he created three clones, but we've only seen the two men."
Saskia looked at the Doctor in horror. "So all three of the clones are dead?" she asked bitterly.
The Doctor nodded grimly. Moments later they both heard the sound of sirens approaching. "Go and make that tea," he said.
"Do you want some?" Saskia asked as she unlocked the door of the TARDIS.
"I'll get some when I've finished talking to the police. I've no idea how long that will take."
She nodded and went inside. She decided to have a shower first and change out of her running clothes before making the tea. After her shower she took her clothes and towels to the laundry room and put them into the washing machine along with some things of the Doctor's that were sitting in a wicker basket. Then she went to the kitchen to make a mug of tea and ate a banana whilst she waited for the water to boil. She had just made a large mug of tea when the Doctor walked into the kitchen, his tie pulled askew and his hair sticking up wildly. Saskia wondered if he'd been clutching it in frustration.
"The water's only just boiled," she told him.
"Hmm? Oh, water. Yes thanks."
Saskia sensed that the Doctor was unhappy about something, but he was keeping his thoughts from her. "What is it?" she asked as he sat down with his own mug of tea.
"Inglesham's dead," he answered.
"How did he die?"
"The police think either Ned or Stanley killed him. And all three of his men have disappeared.
Saskia scowled at his news. "Did they find the body in the wood?" she asked.
"Yes, and it was the clone of Marie. She'd been given an overdose of barbiturate."
They sat silently for a few minutes, drinking their tea.
"What are we going to do now?" Saskia asked bleakly.
"We're going to find somewhere nice and quiet to spend a few days. Somewhere without monsters, if we can manage it, and that includes monstrous humanoids."
"That would be nice."
The Doctor noticed Saskia's wistful tone. "You should go and get some sleep," he told her. "What with two nightmares last night and a nightmarish morning as well, you must be exhausted."
Saskia nodded. "I will sleep, in a little while," she answered.
"Are you worried about having more nightmares?" he asked.
"A little," admitted Saskia. "I've been wondering whether that second nightmare I had was actually about the clone of Marie, rather than Marie herself."
"I don't suppose we'll find that out," the Doctor said thoughtfully.
"No. And there's no way, either, of knowing why I suddenly had a dream related to actual events," Saskia pointed out.
"Would Dr Karg know?"
"I don't know. He might, I suppose. There's only one way to find out for sure though."
"Shall we go to Einfuhlung for a few days, then?" asked the Doctor.
"Well you did say you wanted to go somewhere quiet. And we did promise to have lunch with Dr Karg again, which we haven't yet done."
"OK then. We'll got to Einfuhlung for some R&R." The Doctor looked pleased at the prospect. "I've got to go and do some maintenance checks on the TARDIS' systems," he said, getting to his feet.
"Do you want a hand?" Saskia asked.
The Doctor shook his head. "I'll come and find you when I've finished. Try to get some rest."
"OK." Saskia watched the Doctor go and thought that she ought to take his advice, but she remained sitting at the kitchen table for a while longer.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 4 Part 1
The Doctor went to make himself a cup of tea once he and the TARDIS had finished analysing the data he had got from the dead cellist. He was half way to the kitchen when he realised that Saskia hadn't come back yet from her run and she had been gone at least an hour. He abandoned the idea of tea and went to the Control Room instead. He found that the scanner screen on the console was still showing the map of the local area that Saskia had been looking at earlier. He walked over to the doors and stuck his head outside, wondering if she was coming along the road. As he turned to go back inside, after failing to spot her, he caught a faint voice in the back of his mind.
Doctor?
Saskia? He strained his senses, but couldn't place her. He hurried over to the console and reached out again with the help of the TARDIS.
Saskia?
Doctor. Can you hear me? I've been locked up. Saskia's mental voice was faint and held an anxious note. The Doctor pulled on his overcoat and rushed out of the TARDIS, locking the door, then hurried along the road, pausing occasionally to listen again.
Saskia, I'm coming, but where are you?
Near the river, I think. Her voice was still faint, so the Doctor ran along the road then out onto the towpath. Saskia! Keep talking or I won't be able to find you.
I'm in a basement, she said. The same one that I saw in my nightmare.
I'm sorry, Saskia.
There are four men here. The boss is a bit odd. You shouldn't let the fact that he's nearly a cripple distract you from the fact he's also full of rage and hate. And seriously dangerous.
What's his name? asked the Doctor.
Inglesham.
The Doctor noticed that Saskia's voice sounded stronger. I must be getting closer to you, I can hear you more clearly now, he said.
I think they're going to come back and talk to me again in a few minutes, Saskia said. Although they're having a blazing row at the moment. She listened intently to the babble of voices upstairs. Oh!
What is it? the Doctor asked.
They're talking about Marie's death. It seems to have made the boss really mad.
The Doctor spotted a gate and ran across to it. He tried it and it swung open. He went through the gate quietly, knowing Saskia was somewhere nearby and not wanting to advertise his presence.
I'm nearby, he told her.
Good. They're coming back downstairs, so the sooner you get here, the better. I'm not keen on being strapped to this hospital bed for much longer.
What? Why didn't you tell me they'd done that to you? The Doctor moved quickly and quietly across the garden into which the gate had opened. He saw a house ahead of him. I've found the house. Are you sure all Inglesham's men are with you now?
I think so, Saskia answered.
OK. I'm going to let myself into the house now. Just hold on. The Doctor reached out and tried the door he had found. It was unlocked, so he eased it open and crept silently inside.
Saskia looked up as Inglesham and his men entered the basement. Stan came to stand by the head of the bed, the man whom she had seen with him in her nightmare stood at its foot, and Inglesham slowly made his way across the room to stand near the head of the bed. The fourth man remained standing by the door, but looking into the room. Saskia quickly relayed the positions of the four men to the Doctor as Inglesham looked down at Saskia.
"What do you know of the death of the cellist last night?" he asked her.
"It was a sudden and unexpected death, yet she didn't have any symptoms of heart disease," Saskia answered. "What do you know of it?"
"That is no business of yours," Inglesham said coldly.
"I can't say that I agree with you," Saskia said.
"It does not matter whether or not you agree. The matter is no concern of yours, and once I have found out what you know, I will dispose of you."
"Oh I wouldn't do that, if I were you," said a voice from the doorway, causing Saskia a surge of relief that the Doctor had arrived.
Inglesham looked across at the tall, wiry man who stood in the doorway. He saw the man was wearing a blue pinstripe suit with a dark tie and a pale blue shirt, a long brown coat and beige coloured boots. He seemed to dominate the entire room, somehow.
The Doctor focused his gaze solely on the face of the man who was standing over Saskia. The man wore a look of burning rage and hatred, the intensity of which the Doctor had not seen on anyone's face for many years.
"You must be this doctor in whom this young woman has so much faith."
"That's me. Hello." The Doctor grinned cheerily and waved at the men standing around Saskia. He winked at Saskia, who smiled back, cheered by his irreverence. She knew Inglesham found it irritating and didn't hesitate to tell the Doctor so telepathically, knowing he would try to use it to keep Inglesham off-balance.
Inglesham frowned. "Where's my other man?" he asked abruptly.
"Just taking a nap, he was feeling a bit sleepy," the Doctor answered as he sauntered casually into the room, his hands in his trouser pockets. "My turn to ask a question. What did you do to Marie Roberts, cellist with the City of Oxford Orchestra?"
"What business is it of yours?" asked Inglesham, his tone icy again.
"She died of a heart attack last night, which she shouldn't have had since her heart was quite healthy. So what did you and your men do to her that caused her to have a heart attack? We know she was here."
"She helped me a little experiment I've been making," answered Inglesham. "Her death was an unfortunate side effect."
"An unfortunate side effect?" queried the Doctor, his previously cheerful tone now as icy as Inglesham's. "You really don't care, do you?"
"You are mistaken Doctor. I care that she is dead since I cannot repeat my experiment."
Saskia knew then that Inglesham had just lost any concessions the Doctor might have made for him. The Doctor's eyebrows had shot up and a look of disdain settled on his face. "And what is this experiment of yours?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Inglesham shrugged. "I see no reason not to tell you. You have no power or authority to stop me. I am creating human clones."
A look of surprise and disbelief settled on both Saskia's and the Doctor's faces. "Impossible!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Humanity doesn't succeed in creating viable human clones for decades yet."
Inglesham frowned. "How could you know that?"
"I'm a Time Lord," answered the Doctor. "I know all about the future development of humanity. So who, or what, are you, if you've succeeded in cloning humans?"
"I am a Malquet from Ceritin."
"How did you get here?" asked the Doctor.
"I was travelling across this galaxy when my ship was caught in a plasma storm and knocked to Earth, several years ago. My stasis chamber was damaged, which resulted in my ageing process being accelerated unnaturally."
"So you've been experimenting in the hope of creating a new, younger and healthier version of yourself?" the Doctor said, with a look of understanding.
"Yes."
"But why did you clone a musician? Was she the only one you've created?" asked the Doctor.
"No. I've created two more."
"Steve and Martin," Saskia interrupted. "The clarinettist and the violinist who went missing for 24 hours."
"How do you know that?" demanded Inglesham, his expression darkening.
"Oh we talked to them last night, after Marie died," said the Doctor. "We were told they were all friends, so we spoke to them. They told us they had lost 24 hours of their lives. I suppose your man over there abducted them?" The Doctor nodded at the man at the foot of the bed where Saskia still lay strapped. The Doctor flicked her a glance. He knew she was desperate to be free, but she knew as well as he did that they had to find out as much as they could about what had happened to the musicians.
Doctor?
Saskia? He strained his senses, but couldn't place her. He hurried over to the console and reached out again with the help of the TARDIS.
Saskia?
Doctor. Can you hear me? I've been locked up. Saskia's mental voice was faint and held an anxious note. The Doctor pulled on his overcoat and rushed out of the TARDIS, locking the door, then hurried along the road, pausing occasionally to listen again.
Saskia, I'm coming, but where are you?
Near the river, I think. Her voice was still faint, so the Doctor ran along the road then out onto the towpath. Saskia! Keep talking or I won't be able to find you.
I'm in a basement, she said. The same one that I saw in my nightmare.
I'm sorry, Saskia.
There are four men here. The boss is a bit odd. You shouldn't let the fact that he's nearly a cripple distract you from the fact he's also full of rage and hate. And seriously dangerous.
What's his name? asked the Doctor.
Inglesham.
The Doctor noticed that Saskia's voice sounded stronger. I must be getting closer to you, I can hear you more clearly now, he said.
I think they're going to come back and talk to me again in a few minutes, Saskia said. Although they're having a blazing row at the moment. She listened intently to the babble of voices upstairs. Oh!
What is it? the Doctor asked.
They're talking about Marie's death. It seems to have made the boss really mad.
The Doctor spotted a gate and ran across to it. He tried it and it swung open. He went through the gate quietly, knowing Saskia was somewhere nearby and not wanting to advertise his presence.
I'm nearby, he told her.
Good. They're coming back downstairs, so the sooner you get here, the better. I'm not keen on being strapped to this hospital bed for much longer.
What? Why didn't you tell me they'd done that to you? The Doctor moved quickly and quietly across the garden into which the gate had opened. He saw a house ahead of him. I've found the house. Are you sure all Inglesham's men are with you now?
I think so, Saskia answered.
OK. I'm going to let myself into the house now. Just hold on. The Doctor reached out and tried the door he had found. It was unlocked, so he eased it open and crept silently inside.
Saskia looked up as Inglesham and his men entered the basement. Stan came to stand by the head of the bed, the man whom she had seen with him in her nightmare stood at its foot, and Inglesham slowly made his way across the room to stand near the head of the bed. The fourth man remained standing by the door, but looking into the room. Saskia quickly relayed the positions of the four men to the Doctor as Inglesham looked down at Saskia.
"What do you know of the death of the cellist last night?" he asked her.
"It was a sudden and unexpected death, yet she didn't have any symptoms of heart disease," Saskia answered. "What do you know of it?"
"That is no business of yours," Inglesham said coldly.
"I can't say that I agree with you," Saskia said.
"It does not matter whether or not you agree. The matter is no concern of yours, and once I have found out what you know, I will dispose of you."
"Oh I wouldn't do that, if I were you," said a voice from the doorway, causing Saskia a surge of relief that the Doctor had arrived.
Inglesham looked across at the tall, wiry man who stood in the doorway. He saw the man was wearing a blue pinstripe suit with a dark tie and a pale blue shirt, a long brown coat and beige coloured boots. He seemed to dominate the entire room, somehow.
The Doctor focused his gaze solely on the face of the man who was standing over Saskia. The man wore a look of burning rage and hatred, the intensity of which the Doctor had not seen on anyone's face for many years.
"You must be this doctor in whom this young woman has so much faith."
"That's me. Hello." The Doctor grinned cheerily and waved at the men standing around Saskia. He winked at Saskia, who smiled back, cheered by his irreverence. She knew Inglesham found it irritating and didn't hesitate to tell the Doctor so telepathically, knowing he would try to use it to keep Inglesham off-balance.
Inglesham frowned. "Where's my other man?" he asked abruptly.
"Just taking a nap, he was feeling a bit sleepy," the Doctor answered as he sauntered casually into the room, his hands in his trouser pockets. "My turn to ask a question. What did you do to Marie Roberts, cellist with the City of Oxford Orchestra?"
"What business is it of yours?" asked Inglesham, his tone icy again.
"She died of a heart attack last night, which she shouldn't have had since her heart was quite healthy. So what did you and your men do to her that caused her to have a heart attack? We know she was here."
"She helped me a little experiment I've been making," answered Inglesham. "Her death was an unfortunate side effect."
"An unfortunate side effect?" queried the Doctor, his previously cheerful tone now as icy as Inglesham's. "You really don't care, do you?"
"You are mistaken Doctor. I care that she is dead since I cannot repeat my experiment."
Saskia knew then that Inglesham had just lost any concessions the Doctor might have made for him. The Doctor's eyebrows had shot up and a look of disdain settled on his face. "And what is this experiment of yours?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Inglesham shrugged. "I see no reason not to tell you. You have no power or authority to stop me. I am creating human clones."
A look of surprise and disbelief settled on both Saskia's and the Doctor's faces. "Impossible!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Humanity doesn't succeed in creating viable human clones for decades yet."
Inglesham frowned. "How could you know that?"
"I'm a Time Lord," answered the Doctor. "I know all about the future development of humanity. So who, or what, are you, if you've succeeded in cloning humans?"
"I am a Malquet from Ceritin."
"How did you get here?" asked the Doctor.
"I was travelling across this galaxy when my ship was caught in a plasma storm and knocked to Earth, several years ago. My stasis chamber was damaged, which resulted in my ageing process being accelerated unnaturally."
"So you've been experimenting in the hope of creating a new, younger and healthier version of yourself?" the Doctor said, with a look of understanding.
"Yes."
"But why did you clone a musician? Was she the only one you've created?" asked the Doctor.
"No. I've created two more."
"Steve and Martin," Saskia interrupted. "The clarinettist and the violinist who went missing for 24 hours."
"How do you know that?" demanded Inglesham, his expression darkening.
"Oh we talked to them last night, after Marie died," said the Doctor. "We were told they were all friends, so we spoke to them. They told us they had lost 24 hours of their lives. I suppose your man over there abducted them?" The Doctor nodded at the man at the foot of the bed where Saskia still lay strapped. The Doctor flicked her a glance. He knew she was desperate to be free, but she knew as well as he did that they had to find out as much as they could about what had happened to the musicians.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 3 Part 3
Stan swore colourfully for a few moments, giving vent to his disbelief at this strange young woman, and his annoyance at what he had done, not to mention what he suspected would happen as a result of this encounter. He glared down at Saskia's unconscious form.
"Oh great!" he exclaimed softly. "Now I've got two bodies on my hands!" He hunkered down beside Saskia and checked her pulse. He didn't quite know whether to be sorry or glad when he found that she was still alive. He hesitated, too, over what he should do. He couldn't leave her here to wake up, that much was certain. But he also knew his master would be furious at this development. He picked Saskia up with a few grunts. She was tall and well muscled, making her awkward to carry for someone who was short and stocky. He managed to move her to the spot where he had left the dead woman he had brought into the woods. He unwound the sheet and carried the body into a small hut to which only he had the key. He then went back to Saskia, wrapped her in the sheet and slung her up over his shoulder. He hurried to the edge of the wood and stood silently listening for a few moments, then hastened back along the towpath and through the garden gate. He moved as fast as he could manage, silently cursing this young woman for her interference.
Stan got Saskia into the kitchen and dumped her unceremoniously into a chair, pulling off the sheet. He paused to catch his breath and rub his aching back. What was he supposed to do with her, he wondered. He scowled, then picked her up again and carried her downstairs to the basement where he strapped her onto another trolley bed. He stomped back upstairs, paused by the kitchen door, then went on upstairs to his master's room. He knocked more tentatively than usual, then went inside when summoned.
"Sir."
Mr Inglesham looked up, frowning, from his place by his desk. "Stanley?"
"We – uh – we have a bit of a difficult situation, sir," he said.
"Explain."
"I took the body out to the woods, to dispose of it and was seen by a young woman. She was running on the towpath and she – uh – she followed me into the woods." Stan stopped speaking when he saw the dark look that had settled on his master's face.
"Stanley, why do I suspect that you did not do the obvious thing, and dispose of this young woman?"
Stan swallowed convulsively. "Uh – well – she surprised me," he said, realising how lame this sounded even as he said it.
"And?" Mr Inglesham's tone was icy.
"She said she'd stop me if I was doing something wrong."
"By herself? A young woman who was out running and, therefore, presumably not armed in anyway, proposed to stop you – and you let her?" His tone was savage now.
"Sir." Stan was quaking with fear inside, but trying not to show it.
"Where is this remarkable young woman? I should like to meet her."
"In the basement sir."
"You have severely displeased me today, Stanley, and if my operation is delayed by your actions, you will pay heavily."
"Sir." Stan's tone was miserable. He opened the door and waited whilst his master pulled himself stiffly from his chair and, leaning heavily on a silver-headed cane, made his way painfully across the room. They made their way downstairs, Mr Inglesham pausing often to catch his breath.
"Go downstairs and wait," Mr Inglesham snapped suddenly.
"Sir." Stan hurried downstairs to the basement, glad to get out of his master's way. He glanced over at the young woman and saw she was still unconscious. She began to stir just as Mr Inglesham entered the room. Stan moved aside to allow Mr Inglesham to see her clearly.
Saskia woke slowly, feeling groggy, and suffering from a thumping headache. She tried to lift a hand to her head to see if she had a lump there, and found she could not move her arms. She turned her head stiffly and found a stranger looking back at her. Saskia took in the short grey hair, dark striped suit, crisp white shirt, the pale beige silk scarf draped around his neck, and the claw-like hands resting atop a silver-headed cane.
"You must be the boss," she said, more calmly than she felt.
"I am. And you, young woman, are trouble I do not need."
Saskia was chilled by the icy tone in his voice. It reminded her of ancient stonework.
"Oh, and we've only just met!" she exclaimed. "Don't you think you're being a little hasty in your assessment of me?"
"Do you think facetiousness is appropriate?" Mr Inglesham asked with a snarl.
Saskia shrugged, but didn't answer, concentrating instead of reading his emotions. Not that it was a difficult task: black hatred and cold, merciless anger were practically streaming off him. Saskia felt as if she was drowning and blinked twice in an effort to break free.
"So what happens next?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky to him as it did to her own ears.
"You tell me what you're doing here and on the basis of that I decide how best to – " he paused a moment, deliberately Saskia knew, " - dispose of you."
"I came to Oxford to attend a concert at the Sheldonian Theatre last night." Saskia was acting obtuse deliberately, she wanted to see what she could find out about this man and what he was doing in this house which she had now recognised from her nightmare, just as she recognised Stan as one of the two men she had seen in that dream. She had to keep the boss talking in order to find out as much information as possible so that she and the Doctor could find out why Marie had died. These thoughts raced through her mind as Mr Inglesham watched her, a considering look on his face and a sense of surprise and disbelief overlying his anger and hatred. She realised that he wasn't used to dealing with people who talked back to him or had their own ideas about things.
"Why did you follow Stanley into the woods?"
Saskia shrugged again. "Curiosity mostly," she answered. "I could see he was carrying something heavy, but the way he looked at me and the way he moved were what really caught my attention. He looked like he was up to no good."
"So you followed him, a young woman on her own, followed a strange man whom she believed to be up to no good, into a wood?" There was a note of disbelief in his voice now.
"Yes," Saskia answered simply.
"And yet you don't look stupid. Why did you do it?"
"Saskia shrugged again, knowing he found the habit irritating and hoping to keep him off-balance. "To stop him." Her tone implied this was the obvious answer.
"How? Stanley said you mentioned someone else, a doctor. Doctor who?"
"Just 'the Doctor'," Saskia said.
"And where is this doctor?"
"Out looking for me, by now," Saskia answered.
"But he won't know where to find you," Mr Inglesham observed. "After all, you do not know where you are."
"I may not know our exact location, but it's safe to assume we're not that far from the woods where I met your man. He wouldn't have wanted to carry me very far, and not enough time has passed since we met for him to have taken me any distance in a car." Saskia knew that she had impressed him and would have been amused, if her situation hadn't been so serious, that such a man could be impressed by a little deductive reasoning. "It doesn’t matter where I am, though. The Doctor will find me, and when he does, he'll want to talk to you both, especially your man, to find out what you both know about the sudden death last night of a perfectly healthy woman."
"What woman?" asked Mr Inglesham.
"Last night?" asked Stan simultaneously.
"A cellist named Marie died at the Sheldonian Theatre last night in mysterious circumstances," Saskia said, trying to read two reactions at once. Stanley's was the easiest – he was feeling considerable surprise and some fear too. Mr Inglesham's feelings were more opaque, but a strong feeling of cold anger was uppermost in his mind. He looked at Stanley, a look of cold rage that burned even more intensely than most people's hot anger.
"Outside!" The man's curt tone promised pain, Saskia realised, and felt a momentary pang of pity for the hapless Stanley. Upstairs a door banged, and the voices and boots of two people could be heard entering the house. Stanley and his master went out, the one moving swiftly, the other moving painfully slowly. She wondered what crippled him, and what drove him. The rage and hatred he felt were very intense, but what fuelled them?
She closed her eyes and reached out for the Doctor, wondering if she could find him or if he could sense her when she was still taking Dr Karg's drugs.
"Oh great!" he exclaimed softly. "Now I've got two bodies on my hands!" He hunkered down beside Saskia and checked her pulse. He didn't quite know whether to be sorry or glad when he found that she was still alive. He hesitated, too, over what he should do. He couldn't leave her here to wake up, that much was certain. But he also knew his master would be furious at this development. He picked Saskia up with a few grunts. She was tall and well muscled, making her awkward to carry for someone who was short and stocky. He managed to move her to the spot where he had left the dead woman he had brought into the woods. He unwound the sheet and carried the body into a small hut to which only he had the key. He then went back to Saskia, wrapped her in the sheet and slung her up over his shoulder. He hurried to the edge of the wood and stood silently listening for a few moments, then hastened back along the towpath and through the garden gate. He moved as fast as he could manage, silently cursing this young woman for her interference.
Stan got Saskia into the kitchen and dumped her unceremoniously into a chair, pulling off the sheet. He paused to catch his breath and rub his aching back. What was he supposed to do with her, he wondered. He scowled, then picked her up again and carried her downstairs to the basement where he strapped her onto another trolley bed. He stomped back upstairs, paused by the kitchen door, then went on upstairs to his master's room. He knocked more tentatively than usual, then went inside when summoned.
"Sir."
Mr Inglesham looked up, frowning, from his place by his desk. "Stanley?"
"We – uh – we have a bit of a difficult situation, sir," he said.
"Explain."
"I took the body out to the woods, to dispose of it and was seen by a young woman. She was running on the towpath and she – uh – she followed me into the woods." Stan stopped speaking when he saw the dark look that had settled on his master's face.
"Stanley, why do I suspect that you did not do the obvious thing, and dispose of this young woman?"
Stan swallowed convulsively. "Uh – well – she surprised me," he said, realising how lame this sounded even as he said it.
"And?" Mr Inglesham's tone was icy.
"She said she'd stop me if I was doing something wrong."
"By herself? A young woman who was out running and, therefore, presumably not armed in anyway, proposed to stop you – and you let her?" His tone was savage now.
"Sir." Stan was quaking with fear inside, but trying not to show it.
"Where is this remarkable young woman? I should like to meet her."
"In the basement sir."
"You have severely displeased me today, Stanley, and if my operation is delayed by your actions, you will pay heavily."
"Sir." Stan's tone was miserable. He opened the door and waited whilst his master pulled himself stiffly from his chair and, leaning heavily on a silver-headed cane, made his way painfully across the room. They made their way downstairs, Mr Inglesham pausing often to catch his breath.
"Go downstairs and wait," Mr Inglesham snapped suddenly.
"Sir." Stan hurried downstairs to the basement, glad to get out of his master's way. He glanced over at the young woman and saw she was still unconscious. She began to stir just as Mr Inglesham entered the room. Stan moved aside to allow Mr Inglesham to see her clearly.
Saskia woke slowly, feeling groggy, and suffering from a thumping headache. She tried to lift a hand to her head to see if she had a lump there, and found she could not move her arms. She turned her head stiffly and found a stranger looking back at her. Saskia took in the short grey hair, dark striped suit, crisp white shirt, the pale beige silk scarf draped around his neck, and the claw-like hands resting atop a silver-headed cane.
"You must be the boss," she said, more calmly than she felt.
"I am. And you, young woman, are trouble I do not need."
Saskia was chilled by the icy tone in his voice. It reminded her of ancient stonework.
"Oh, and we've only just met!" she exclaimed. "Don't you think you're being a little hasty in your assessment of me?"
"Do you think facetiousness is appropriate?" Mr Inglesham asked with a snarl.
Saskia shrugged, but didn't answer, concentrating instead of reading his emotions. Not that it was a difficult task: black hatred and cold, merciless anger were practically streaming off him. Saskia felt as if she was drowning and blinked twice in an effort to break free.
"So what happens next?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky to him as it did to her own ears.
"You tell me what you're doing here and on the basis of that I decide how best to – " he paused a moment, deliberately Saskia knew, " - dispose of you."
"I came to Oxford to attend a concert at the Sheldonian Theatre last night." Saskia was acting obtuse deliberately, she wanted to see what she could find out about this man and what he was doing in this house which she had now recognised from her nightmare, just as she recognised Stan as one of the two men she had seen in that dream. She had to keep the boss talking in order to find out as much information as possible so that she and the Doctor could find out why Marie had died. These thoughts raced through her mind as Mr Inglesham watched her, a considering look on his face and a sense of surprise and disbelief overlying his anger and hatred. She realised that he wasn't used to dealing with people who talked back to him or had their own ideas about things.
"Why did you follow Stanley into the woods?"
Saskia shrugged again. "Curiosity mostly," she answered. "I could see he was carrying something heavy, but the way he looked at me and the way he moved were what really caught my attention. He looked like he was up to no good."
"So you followed him, a young woman on her own, followed a strange man whom she believed to be up to no good, into a wood?" There was a note of disbelief in his voice now.
"Yes," Saskia answered simply.
"And yet you don't look stupid. Why did you do it?"
"Saskia shrugged again, knowing he found the habit irritating and hoping to keep him off-balance. "To stop him." Her tone implied this was the obvious answer.
"How? Stanley said you mentioned someone else, a doctor. Doctor who?"
"Just 'the Doctor'," Saskia said.
"And where is this doctor?"
"Out looking for me, by now," Saskia answered.
"But he won't know where to find you," Mr Inglesham observed. "After all, you do not know where you are."
"I may not know our exact location, but it's safe to assume we're not that far from the woods where I met your man. He wouldn't have wanted to carry me very far, and not enough time has passed since we met for him to have taken me any distance in a car." Saskia knew that she had impressed him and would have been amused, if her situation hadn't been so serious, that such a man could be impressed by a little deductive reasoning. "It doesn’t matter where I am, though. The Doctor will find me, and when he does, he'll want to talk to you both, especially your man, to find out what you both know about the sudden death last night of a perfectly healthy woman."
"What woman?" asked Mr Inglesham.
"Last night?" asked Stan simultaneously.
"A cellist named Marie died at the Sheldonian Theatre last night in mysterious circumstances," Saskia said, trying to read two reactions at once. Stanley's was the easiest – he was feeling considerable surprise and some fear too. Mr Inglesham's feelings were more opaque, but a strong feeling of cold anger was uppermost in his mind. He looked at Stanley, a look of cold rage that burned even more intensely than most people's hot anger.
"Outside!" The man's curt tone promised pain, Saskia realised, and felt a momentary pang of pity for the hapless Stanley. Upstairs a door banged, and the voices and boots of two people could be heard entering the house. Stanley and his master went out, the one moving swiftly, the other moving painfully slowly. She wondered what crippled him, and what drove him. The rage and hatred he felt were very intense, but what fuelled them?
She closed her eyes and reached out for the Doctor, wondering if she could find him or if he could sense her when she was still taking Dr Karg's drugs.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 3 Part 2
Stan, Ned and Kevin met for a late breakfast, all of them feeling the effects of their disturbed night, although Kevin had suffered the least of them, having slept through most of the uproar. Stan had a grim look and even Ned looked concerned at the thought of what the boss might do when he heard about the events of the previous night.
"Kevin, take the guys some breakfast," said Stan curtly.
Kevin looked mulish but obeyed. He had just enough sense to know better than to argue when Stan was in such a mood. He put mugs, bowls of cereal and a plate of sliced bread onto a tray, then added milk, sugar, marmalade, butter and finally a large pot of tea. He carried it carefully out of the room. Ned immediately turned to Stan and asked the question he had been wanting to ask for the past half hour.
"What are you going to tell the boss?"
"Everything," Stan answered shortly.
"But – "
"Ned, if I don't and he finds out later that I didn't – well let's just say it'd be more than my life's worth not to tell him everything now."
Ned swallowed, then nodded. "Do you want me to come up with you to see him?"
Stan shook his head. "Go and see if our other guest is awake yet and if she wants some breakfast."
"OK."
Stan knew that Ned was secretly relieved not to face Mr Inglesham. He scowled, then went out into the hallway. He met Kevin coming back from taking breakfast to the musicians and told him to stay in the kitchen until he got back.
"Can't I – " he began.
"No," Stan said, cutting him off. "Just go and wait in the kitchen, will you?"
Kevin scowled at Stan's departing back, then slouched sulkily into the kitchen to wait.
Stan went upstairs to his master's room and knocked on the door.
"Come."
Stan went inside, then stood stiffly at attention by the door.
"Sir."
His master, who was dressed in his usual impeccable clothes, making Stan feel rather dishevelled by comparison, looked up from his desk.
"Stanley. What have you to report this morning?" His voice was colder than usual, making him sound ancient.
"Our third guest had an epileptic seizure in the early hours of the morning," Stan said, trying not to flinch from his master's gaze.
"An epileptic seizure? How is this possible? We tested her thoroughly and the potential for such an affliction would have shown up in the tests."
"I don't know sir. I've checked all the test results and there was definitely nothing on them to indicate such a possibility."
"So the seizure is the result of the process which she underwent?" asked Mr Inglesham.
"I believe so, sir, though I'm not an expert in such matters." Stan waited for the inevitable order from his master whom he knew would tolerate no imperfections in his guests.
"Then get rid of her. Ned must go and fetch the cellist from town, and we will start again."
"Sir." Stanley's tone was neutral and expressionless, but he was not happy with this order, even though he had anticipated it. He went downstairs and back into the kitchen where Ned was waiting with Kevin. Ned caught his eye and saw a grim look there. He turned to Kevin.
"Go and bring the van round to the back door," he said.
Kevin looked surprised, but for once he didn't object or ask questions. He went out the back door, taking the van's keys from a nail by the door as he passed.
Ned looked at Stan's grim expression again. "What is it?" he asked.
"You're to go and fetch the cellist again," Stan answered.
"Oh." Ned looked unhappy. "We're doing it again then?" he asked.
Stan nodded. "Yes. Take Kevin with you, but keep a close eye on him. Don't let him talk to anyone, OK?"
Ned nodded. "OK," he said, his tone and manner quietly resigned. Stan went out and along the passageway, then down to the basement. He opened the door quietly and saw the woman on the trolley was asleep. Somehow that didn't make what he had to do any easier. He picked up a needle and the small bottle he'd used the day before to help her to sleep, but this time he used a bigger dose. He carefully injected the sleeping woman and waited until the regular rise and fall of her chest ceased. He would have to be quick if he was going to get her into the woods without being seen. He knew that the towpath alongside the river was often busy even this early in the morning, with dog walkers, runners and cyclists, not to mention rowers out on the river itself. He fetched a large sheet and wrapped it around the dead woman's body, then slung it over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He went upstairs, through the kitchen and outside. He staggered slightly under the dead weight, but managed to keep his feet. He walked across the back garden, through the trees that screened the house from the river, and let himself out through the garden gate. He stole a quick glance at his watch, then swallowed a couple of times before setting off along the towpath, moving as quickly as he could manage whilst still carrying a dead body. He made it to the edge of the woods without seeing anyone except a distant runner in a white top and dark trousers who was moving towards him at a steady, ground-eating pace. He ducked in amongst the trees and moved a little distance away from the path, before laying down his burden, desperate to catch his breath for a few minutes before he completed his task. As he stood there, he listened and heard the regular footfalls of the runner approaching the edge of the woods. He found himself involuntarily holding his breath. A few moments later he let it out again with a yelp of surprise when a quiet voice spoke to him.
"What are you doing?"
Saskia was enjoying her run. She had done some warm up exercises first, well aware of the dangers of pulled muscles or torn ligaments if she tried to run when her body hadn't properly warmed up. Then she had set off along the towpath, enjoying the rhythm of her running, the warm Spring air and the early morning quiet. Initially she hadn't taken much notice of the distant figure who had emerged onto the towpath ahead of her, but as she got closer she could see that whoever it was had a large heavy object over one shoulder. And as she got closer still, she saw the figure looking at her, then move into the woods that lay ahead on the left hand side of the path. Something about the way he, she was close enough now to see it was a man, moved and ducked into the woods caught her attention, then she'd caught a faint sense of guilt and fear from him, and she hadn't hesitated to follow him into the woods.
She saw the figure ahead of her stop and put down his burden. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly, startling the man into a yelp of surprise. She saw he was short and stocky, with a shaven head and a scar across his right cheek. She also sensed his feelings of fear and guilt shifting into annoyance, and realised two things in quick succession: that she should have hesitated before following a strange man into a wood, and that this man was dangerous. However, it was too late to get away because he was aware that she knew he was up to no good – the very fact that she'd followed him told him that much. She found herself briefly wishing she hadn't picked up the Doctor's habit of incaution – and wondered, at the same time, when it had happened.
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, the man seeing a tall, dark-haired woman with bright green eyes and a watchful manner that indicated he wasn't going to be able to bluff his way out of this situation. He wondered why she had followed him into the wood, a young woman on her own. Was it bravery or foolhardiness?
"What's it to you?" Stan asked.
Saskia shrugged. "It depends on whether or not you're doing something wrong. If you're up to no good, then it matters to me that you stop. If you're just disposing of your garden waste, then I'll be on my way."
Stan gave a short, mirthless laugh. "You think you could stop me if I'm up to no good?"
Saskia nodded.
"You and whose army?" he asked.
"No army. Just me and the Doctor," Saskia answered calmly.
"Doctor who?" asked Stan, puzzled by her confident manner.
"Just 'the Doctor'," Saskia answered.
"And where is this doctor of yours?" Stan asked sarcastically.
"Right now he's in Plantation Road."
"Which is far enough away for him not to be a threat to me, or much use to you," Stan pointed out, a grimly triumphant smile on his face.
"That depends," Saskia answered, trying to calm and keep him talking until she could find out what was going on.
"On what?" Stan asked impatiently.
"Speed mostly. The speed of reflexes, yours and mine, and how fast you can run. You see, the very fact that you're still talking to me instead of telling me to get lost or mind my own business, tells me that you're up to no good. As does the tension in your muscles and the fact that you're breathing no less rapidly now, even though you've put down that object you were carrying."
Stan looked at Saskia open-mouthed. "Who the hell are you, Sherlock bloody Holmes?" he demanded even as Saskia whirled around and sprang away from him, hoping that his surprise would give her enough of an advantage to get away.
A few moments later she was proved wrong when Stan threw himself bodily at her in a rugby tackle that sent her crashing into a tree, knocking her out.
"Kevin, take the guys some breakfast," said Stan curtly.
Kevin looked mulish but obeyed. He had just enough sense to know better than to argue when Stan was in such a mood. He put mugs, bowls of cereal and a plate of sliced bread onto a tray, then added milk, sugar, marmalade, butter and finally a large pot of tea. He carried it carefully out of the room. Ned immediately turned to Stan and asked the question he had been wanting to ask for the past half hour.
"What are you going to tell the boss?"
"Everything," Stan answered shortly.
"But – "
"Ned, if I don't and he finds out later that I didn't – well let's just say it'd be more than my life's worth not to tell him everything now."
Ned swallowed, then nodded. "Do you want me to come up with you to see him?"
Stan shook his head. "Go and see if our other guest is awake yet and if she wants some breakfast."
"OK."
Stan knew that Ned was secretly relieved not to face Mr Inglesham. He scowled, then went out into the hallway. He met Kevin coming back from taking breakfast to the musicians and told him to stay in the kitchen until he got back.
"Can't I – " he began.
"No," Stan said, cutting him off. "Just go and wait in the kitchen, will you?"
Kevin scowled at Stan's departing back, then slouched sulkily into the kitchen to wait.
Stan went upstairs to his master's room and knocked on the door.
"Come."
Stan went inside, then stood stiffly at attention by the door.
"Sir."
His master, who was dressed in his usual impeccable clothes, making Stan feel rather dishevelled by comparison, looked up from his desk.
"Stanley. What have you to report this morning?" His voice was colder than usual, making him sound ancient.
"Our third guest had an epileptic seizure in the early hours of the morning," Stan said, trying not to flinch from his master's gaze.
"An epileptic seizure? How is this possible? We tested her thoroughly and the potential for such an affliction would have shown up in the tests."
"I don't know sir. I've checked all the test results and there was definitely nothing on them to indicate such a possibility."
"So the seizure is the result of the process which she underwent?" asked Mr Inglesham.
"I believe so, sir, though I'm not an expert in such matters." Stan waited for the inevitable order from his master whom he knew would tolerate no imperfections in his guests.
"Then get rid of her. Ned must go and fetch the cellist from town, and we will start again."
"Sir." Stanley's tone was neutral and expressionless, but he was not happy with this order, even though he had anticipated it. He went downstairs and back into the kitchen where Ned was waiting with Kevin. Ned caught his eye and saw a grim look there. He turned to Kevin.
"Go and bring the van round to the back door," he said.
Kevin looked surprised, but for once he didn't object or ask questions. He went out the back door, taking the van's keys from a nail by the door as he passed.
Ned looked at Stan's grim expression again. "What is it?" he asked.
"You're to go and fetch the cellist again," Stan answered.
"Oh." Ned looked unhappy. "We're doing it again then?" he asked.
Stan nodded. "Yes. Take Kevin with you, but keep a close eye on him. Don't let him talk to anyone, OK?"
Ned nodded. "OK," he said, his tone and manner quietly resigned. Stan went out and along the passageway, then down to the basement. He opened the door quietly and saw the woman on the trolley was asleep. Somehow that didn't make what he had to do any easier. He picked up a needle and the small bottle he'd used the day before to help her to sleep, but this time he used a bigger dose. He carefully injected the sleeping woman and waited until the regular rise and fall of her chest ceased. He would have to be quick if he was going to get her into the woods without being seen. He knew that the towpath alongside the river was often busy even this early in the morning, with dog walkers, runners and cyclists, not to mention rowers out on the river itself. He fetched a large sheet and wrapped it around the dead woman's body, then slung it over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He went upstairs, through the kitchen and outside. He staggered slightly under the dead weight, but managed to keep his feet. He walked across the back garden, through the trees that screened the house from the river, and let himself out through the garden gate. He stole a quick glance at his watch, then swallowed a couple of times before setting off along the towpath, moving as quickly as he could manage whilst still carrying a dead body. He made it to the edge of the woods without seeing anyone except a distant runner in a white top and dark trousers who was moving towards him at a steady, ground-eating pace. He ducked in amongst the trees and moved a little distance away from the path, before laying down his burden, desperate to catch his breath for a few minutes before he completed his task. As he stood there, he listened and heard the regular footfalls of the runner approaching the edge of the woods. He found himself involuntarily holding his breath. A few moments later he let it out again with a yelp of surprise when a quiet voice spoke to him.
"What are you doing?"
Saskia was enjoying her run. She had done some warm up exercises first, well aware of the dangers of pulled muscles or torn ligaments if she tried to run when her body hadn't properly warmed up. Then she had set off along the towpath, enjoying the rhythm of her running, the warm Spring air and the early morning quiet. Initially she hadn't taken much notice of the distant figure who had emerged onto the towpath ahead of her, but as she got closer she could see that whoever it was had a large heavy object over one shoulder. And as she got closer still, she saw the figure looking at her, then move into the woods that lay ahead on the left hand side of the path. Something about the way he, she was close enough now to see it was a man, moved and ducked into the woods caught her attention, then she'd caught a faint sense of guilt and fear from him, and she hadn't hesitated to follow him into the woods.
She saw the figure ahead of her stop and put down his burden. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly, startling the man into a yelp of surprise. She saw he was short and stocky, with a shaven head and a scar across his right cheek. She also sensed his feelings of fear and guilt shifting into annoyance, and realised two things in quick succession: that she should have hesitated before following a strange man into a wood, and that this man was dangerous. However, it was too late to get away because he was aware that she knew he was up to no good – the very fact that she'd followed him told him that much. She found herself briefly wishing she hadn't picked up the Doctor's habit of incaution – and wondered, at the same time, when it had happened.
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, the man seeing a tall, dark-haired woman with bright green eyes and a watchful manner that indicated he wasn't going to be able to bluff his way out of this situation. He wondered why she had followed him into the wood, a young woman on her own. Was it bravery or foolhardiness?
"What's it to you?" Stan asked.
Saskia shrugged. "It depends on whether or not you're doing something wrong. If you're up to no good, then it matters to me that you stop. If you're just disposing of your garden waste, then I'll be on my way."
Stan gave a short, mirthless laugh. "You think you could stop me if I'm up to no good?"
Saskia nodded.
"You and whose army?" he asked.
"No army. Just me and the Doctor," Saskia answered calmly.
"Doctor who?" asked Stan, puzzled by her confident manner.
"Just 'the Doctor'," Saskia answered.
"And where is this doctor of yours?" Stan asked sarcastically.
"Right now he's in Plantation Road."
"Which is far enough away for him not to be a threat to me, or much use to you," Stan pointed out, a grimly triumphant smile on his face.
"That depends," Saskia answered, trying to calm and keep him talking until she could find out what was going on.
"On what?" Stan asked impatiently.
"Speed mostly. The speed of reflexes, yours and mine, and how fast you can run. You see, the very fact that you're still talking to me instead of telling me to get lost or mind my own business, tells me that you're up to no good. As does the tension in your muscles and the fact that you're breathing no less rapidly now, even though you've put down that object you were carrying."
Stan looked at Saskia open-mouthed. "Who the hell are you, Sherlock bloody Holmes?" he demanded even as Saskia whirled around and sprang away from him, hoping that his surprise would give her enough of an advantage to get away.
A few moments later she was proved wrong when Stan threw himself bodily at her in a rugby tackle that sent her crashing into a tree, knocking her out.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 3 Part 1
Showered and dressed in a change of clothing, Saskia and the Doctor sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and discussing their plan of action.
"First we'll go and see the coroner, Dr Price," the Doctor said, before taking another mouthful of his banana.
Saskia swallowed her cereal. "And where will we find Dr Price?" she asked, knowing the Doctor would have the answer.
"At the hospital in Headington," the Doctor answered.
"Headington? I know that name from somewhere," Saskia frowned as she turned the name over in her mind. "Oh! It's the suburb of Oxford where both Tolkien and Lewis lived in the 20th century." She grinned in triumph at remembering this fact.
The Doctor grinned back at her, then dropped his banana skin into the recycling unit. "Exactly. We'll take the TARDIS up to Headington to the hospital, see Dr Price and scan Marie's body." A sombre look settled on both their faces at the mention of the cellist's name. "Second, we'll find the pub on Plantation Road where Steve and Martin met the man with dark shabby clothes, and see if anyone can ID him, then find him and ask him what he knows about their disappearances, and what he knows about Marie's disappearance, or her body being strapped to a hospital trolley." The Doctor's tone promised trouble for someone if he didn't like the answers to his questions.
Saskia shivered a little at the memory of her two nightmares and the Doctor touched her shoulder. "OK?" he asked, his brown eyes full of concern.
She nodded and managed a half smile. "Do we have a third stage to this plan?"
The Doctor nodded, his look steely again. "We find out who's doing what to these musicians and we stop them." He stood up and they cleared away their breakfast things, Saskia washing up and the Doctor drying and putting things away. Saskia smiled inwardly at the thought that he'd make someone a good husband at least as far as cooking and tidying up was concerned.
"All set then?" the Doctor asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"Yes."
"Let's go then." The Doctor strode out of the kitchen and down the corridors to the Control Room, Saskia at his side.
Though he was slightly reluctant to admit it, the Doctor was glad that the TARDIS had accepted Saskia as his co-pilot after their trip to Eupatoria a couple of days ago, because it meant that he didn't have to do quite so much manic rushing around the console when piloting the TARDIS. In fact, the two of them engaged in what he thought of as a dance, weaving backwards and forwards around the console, pulling levers, turning dials and pressing buttons, and since they were linked telepathically via the TARDIS, there was none of the shouting of 'No, not that one, that one!', accompanied by wild pointing that had been necessary when Rose was trying to help him. He swallowed that thought hastily, annoyed that he was being disloyal to both Rose and Saskia.
It's not disloyalty to me to miss Rose. Saskia said quietly into his mind.
The Doctor looked up with a start of guilt and saw Saskia looking sadly at him.
"Saskia, I –" he said aloud.
"It's OK. You forgot I'd know what you were thinking. If you'd rather that I didn't be your co-pilot, I won't be offended," she said.
"No!" the Doctor said, his tone sharper than he'd intended. "No," he repeated more softly. He walked around the console to stand beside her. "You're right, I did forget that you would know what I'm thinking - I'm not yet used to being telepathically linked to anyone else whilst piloting the TARDIS. But I'll get used to it and it will be a nice change not to have to run around shouting like someone demented." He reached out and clasped both her shoulders. "I miss Rose enormously, but I'm very glad to have you here. Never forget or doubt that for one second." He smiled at her, and she smiled back, then hugged him fiercely. He moved away and resumed his position at the console. He gave her a nod and they began their dance to pilot the TARDIS from central Oxford to the edge of Headington. A few moments later the TARDIS rematerialised with its customary wheezing noise, then the Doctor and Saskia stepped through her doors into a hospital corridor.
"Where are we?" Saskia asked quietly.
The Doctor glanced along the corridor in both directions. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "Let's find out." He set off along the corridor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his familiar blue pinstripe trousers, his long coat billowing around his legs as he strode along. By unspoken consent, they each kept an eye on the doors on their side of the corridor, looking for a sign by which to get their bearings. It was Saskia who spotted Dr Price's nameplate on a dark brown door.
"Doctor."
The Doctor crossed the corridor, then knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and aimed it at the lock. The Sonic Screwdriver buzzed, a beam of blue glowing light arcing out and into the lock, which then clicked open. The Doctor opened the door quietly, then reached inside for the light switch. He glanced into the room, then looked at Saskia. "It doesn't look like Dr Price is here yet," he said. "Can you stay here and keep an eye out, whilst I look around?"
Saskia nodded and the Doctor quickly stepped inside the office and crossed to a large desk where he began checking the paperwork. A few moments later, he came back out and locked the door again.
"Come on. If we're quick we can get Marie's body to the TARDIS before anyone notices anything."
Saskia followed the Doctor along the corridor to another door. The Doctor used the Sonic Screwdriver again to unlock the door, then went inside. Saskia heard him quietly opening a metal door and glanced inside the room in time to see him pulling out a long metal table on which lay a shrouded body. He lifted the cover and glanced down at the face, which Saskia was too far away to see, then covered it again. He looked up and caught Saskia's eye, then beckoned her into the room.
"Give me a hand?" he asked quietly.
Between them they got the cellist's body onto a trolley and out into the corridor. The Doctor paused to relock the door, then they guided the trolley up the corridor to the TARDIS. Saskia unlocked the door, then opened them both to their fullest extent. They pushed the trolley inside and down the corridors to the medical bay. Saskia suppressed a small shudder. She had spent far more time than she liked in this room.
The Doctor grasped the end of the bed that was already in the medical bay. "Let's move this, rather than lifting her on and off the trolley," he said. "It will save a little time."
Saskia took the other end of the bed and they lifted it over to the far wall, away from the scanners and other medical equipment.
"Can you go and keep watch by the TARDIS doors for me, please?" the Doctor asked. "You'll be aware of anyone approaching long before they come into view."
"Of course." Saskia went back up the corridors and crossed the Control Room to lean against the door frame. As far as she could tell, there was no one on this level apart from them.
About forty minutes later the TARDIS hummed at her and Saskia went back to the medical bay. "All finished?" she asked the Doctor quietly as he buttoned up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, then pulled on his suit jacket.
"Yes. Let's get her back as quick as we can."
They wheeled the trolley back along the corridor and the Doctor unlocked the door again. They got the cellist's body back in place and the Doctor was just relocking the door when Saskia sensed someone on their floor. She grabbed the Doctor's wrist and spoke telepathically. Someone's coming.
The Doctor nodded once, then they ran silently up the corridor to the TARDIS. They hurried inside, closing the doors quietly, and crossed to the console. "Let's get out of here," the Doctor said. Saskia nodded and they dematerialised the TARDIS out of the hospital corridor.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Plantation Road, I hope. We'll wait there for the pub to open, and I can analyse the data from the TARDIS scanners. We'll see if we can find out why Marie died, then try to ID our mystery man."
"I might go for a run whilst you're analysing that data," Saskia said. "I could do with the exercise and I'm not going to be any use to you with the data analysis."
"OK."
The TARDIS rematerialised and the Doctor checked the scanner screen to see if they had landed in Plantation Road. Fortunately they had arrived opposite the pub.
"Right, I'm going to the medical bay to get started on that data. See you later," the Doctor said.
Saskia nodded, then pulled the scanner screen around the central column to where she stood, and called up a local map so she could decide where she wanted to go for her run. She saw they were near a large open space called Port Meadow, which looked perfect for the purpose. She could even run alongside the river on the towpath. Ten minutes later, dressed in a white t-shirt, black casual trousers and running shoes, Saskia let herself out of the TARDIS, locked the door, put her key back around her neck on its chain, then headed off towards Port Meadow.
"First we'll go and see the coroner, Dr Price," the Doctor said, before taking another mouthful of his banana.
Saskia swallowed her cereal. "And where will we find Dr Price?" she asked, knowing the Doctor would have the answer.
"At the hospital in Headington," the Doctor answered.
"Headington? I know that name from somewhere," Saskia frowned as she turned the name over in her mind. "Oh! It's the suburb of Oxford where both Tolkien and Lewis lived in the 20th century." She grinned in triumph at remembering this fact.
The Doctor grinned back at her, then dropped his banana skin into the recycling unit. "Exactly. We'll take the TARDIS up to Headington to the hospital, see Dr Price and scan Marie's body." A sombre look settled on both their faces at the mention of the cellist's name. "Second, we'll find the pub on Plantation Road where Steve and Martin met the man with dark shabby clothes, and see if anyone can ID him, then find him and ask him what he knows about their disappearances, and what he knows about Marie's disappearance, or her body being strapped to a hospital trolley." The Doctor's tone promised trouble for someone if he didn't like the answers to his questions.
Saskia shivered a little at the memory of her two nightmares and the Doctor touched her shoulder. "OK?" he asked, his brown eyes full of concern.
She nodded and managed a half smile. "Do we have a third stage to this plan?"
The Doctor nodded, his look steely again. "We find out who's doing what to these musicians and we stop them." He stood up and they cleared away their breakfast things, Saskia washing up and the Doctor drying and putting things away. Saskia smiled inwardly at the thought that he'd make someone a good husband at least as far as cooking and tidying up was concerned.
"All set then?" the Doctor asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"Yes."
"Let's go then." The Doctor strode out of the kitchen and down the corridors to the Control Room, Saskia at his side.
Though he was slightly reluctant to admit it, the Doctor was glad that the TARDIS had accepted Saskia as his co-pilot after their trip to Eupatoria a couple of days ago, because it meant that he didn't have to do quite so much manic rushing around the console when piloting the TARDIS. In fact, the two of them engaged in what he thought of as a dance, weaving backwards and forwards around the console, pulling levers, turning dials and pressing buttons, and since they were linked telepathically via the TARDIS, there was none of the shouting of 'No, not that one, that one!', accompanied by wild pointing that had been necessary when Rose was trying to help him. He swallowed that thought hastily, annoyed that he was being disloyal to both Rose and Saskia.
It's not disloyalty to me to miss Rose. Saskia said quietly into his mind.
The Doctor looked up with a start of guilt and saw Saskia looking sadly at him.
"Saskia, I –" he said aloud.
"It's OK. You forgot I'd know what you were thinking. If you'd rather that I didn't be your co-pilot, I won't be offended," she said.
"No!" the Doctor said, his tone sharper than he'd intended. "No," he repeated more softly. He walked around the console to stand beside her. "You're right, I did forget that you would know what I'm thinking - I'm not yet used to being telepathically linked to anyone else whilst piloting the TARDIS. But I'll get used to it and it will be a nice change not to have to run around shouting like someone demented." He reached out and clasped both her shoulders. "I miss Rose enormously, but I'm very glad to have you here. Never forget or doubt that for one second." He smiled at her, and she smiled back, then hugged him fiercely. He moved away and resumed his position at the console. He gave her a nod and they began their dance to pilot the TARDIS from central Oxford to the edge of Headington. A few moments later the TARDIS rematerialised with its customary wheezing noise, then the Doctor and Saskia stepped through her doors into a hospital corridor.
"Where are we?" Saskia asked quietly.
The Doctor glanced along the corridor in both directions. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "Let's find out." He set off along the corridor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his familiar blue pinstripe trousers, his long coat billowing around his legs as he strode along. By unspoken consent, they each kept an eye on the doors on their side of the corridor, looking for a sign by which to get their bearings. It was Saskia who spotted Dr Price's nameplate on a dark brown door.
"Doctor."
The Doctor crossed the corridor, then knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and aimed it at the lock. The Sonic Screwdriver buzzed, a beam of blue glowing light arcing out and into the lock, which then clicked open. The Doctor opened the door quietly, then reached inside for the light switch. He glanced into the room, then looked at Saskia. "It doesn't look like Dr Price is here yet," he said. "Can you stay here and keep an eye out, whilst I look around?"
Saskia nodded and the Doctor quickly stepped inside the office and crossed to a large desk where he began checking the paperwork. A few moments later, he came back out and locked the door again.
"Come on. If we're quick we can get Marie's body to the TARDIS before anyone notices anything."
Saskia followed the Doctor along the corridor to another door. The Doctor used the Sonic Screwdriver again to unlock the door, then went inside. Saskia heard him quietly opening a metal door and glanced inside the room in time to see him pulling out a long metal table on which lay a shrouded body. He lifted the cover and glanced down at the face, which Saskia was too far away to see, then covered it again. He looked up and caught Saskia's eye, then beckoned her into the room.
"Give me a hand?" he asked quietly.
Between them they got the cellist's body onto a trolley and out into the corridor. The Doctor paused to relock the door, then they guided the trolley up the corridor to the TARDIS. Saskia unlocked the door, then opened them both to their fullest extent. They pushed the trolley inside and down the corridors to the medical bay. Saskia suppressed a small shudder. She had spent far more time than she liked in this room.
The Doctor grasped the end of the bed that was already in the medical bay. "Let's move this, rather than lifting her on and off the trolley," he said. "It will save a little time."
Saskia took the other end of the bed and they lifted it over to the far wall, away from the scanners and other medical equipment.
"Can you go and keep watch by the TARDIS doors for me, please?" the Doctor asked. "You'll be aware of anyone approaching long before they come into view."
"Of course." Saskia went back up the corridors and crossed the Control Room to lean against the door frame. As far as she could tell, there was no one on this level apart from them.
About forty minutes later the TARDIS hummed at her and Saskia went back to the medical bay. "All finished?" she asked the Doctor quietly as he buttoned up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, then pulled on his suit jacket.
"Yes. Let's get her back as quick as we can."
They wheeled the trolley back along the corridor and the Doctor unlocked the door again. They got the cellist's body back in place and the Doctor was just relocking the door when Saskia sensed someone on their floor. She grabbed the Doctor's wrist and spoke telepathically. Someone's coming.
The Doctor nodded once, then they ran silently up the corridor to the TARDIS. They hurried inside, closing the doors quietly, and crossed to the console. "Let's get out of here," the Doctor said. Saskia nodded and they dematerialised the TARDIS out of the hospital corridor.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Plantation Road, I hope. We'll wait there for the pub to open, and I can analyse the data from the TARDIS scanners. We'll see if we can find out why Marie died, then try to ID our mystery man."
"I might go for a run whilst you're analysing that data," Saskia said. "I could do with the exercise and I'm not going to be any use to you with the data analysis."
"OK."
The TARDIS rematerialised and the Doctor checked the scanner screen to see if they had landed in Plantation Road. Fortunately they had arrived opposite the pub.
"Right, I'm going to the medical bay to get started on that data. See you later," the Doctor said.
Saskia nodded, then pulled the scanner screen around the central column to where she stood, and called up a local map so she could decide where she wanted to go for her run. She saw they were near a large open space called Port Meadow, which looked perfect for the purpose. She could even run alongside the river on the towpath. Ten minutes later, dressed in a white t-shirt, black casual trousers and running shoes, Saskia let herself out of the TARDIS, locked the door, put her key back around her neck on its chain, then headed off towards Port Meadow.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 2 Part 3
The Doctor watched Saskia walk away, a look of surprise and bemusement on his face. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her just at the moment. Then he shook his head, as if to clear it, and turned to the TARDIS console. He wanted to run an analysis on the readings he'd taken from Marie before she died. It wasn't much data, but it was something to be going on with until he had the chance to use the more sensitive TARDIS scanners to take some readings. He hoped the coroner would be less hostile than the paramedics had been. Then he remembered that he needed to check where he would find Dr Price the following day. He ran a quick search, then turned to downloading and analysing the readings from his Sonic Screwdriver.
Saskia undressed, then pulled on her favourite pyjamas before crawling into bed. She felt that a week's sleep would be very welcome, never mind a few hours. She found herself sleepily wondering how she'd dared to kiss the Doctor. Perhaps it was because this evening was the first time since she'd met him that he'd seemed genuinely happy. Before she could give the matter any more thought she had fallen asleep.
A few hours later she woke in a panic from a nightmare in which an alien entity had been trying to steal her mind. She sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the room, checking that she was really alone. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees for a few minutes, then decided she didn't want to try to sleep again just in case she went back into the same nightmare. She picked up her dressing gown from the chair beside her bed, and pulled it on, then padded out of her room, her bare feet noiseless in the quiet corridors.
When Saskia opened the kitchen door a few minutes later, she was surprised to find the Doctor seated at the table, a book open in front of him and a mug of tea by his right hand. He was wearing his glasses, his bow tie was hanging loose around his neck, and his hair was sticking up wildly.
"Hello," he said. "I didn't expect to see you for a good few hours yet."
"I had a nightmare," Saskia said as she sat down beside him. "I don't want to go back to sleep again just yet in case I just have the same nightmare again."
"A nightmare? What was it about?" the Doctor asked curiously.
"An alien entity was trying to steal my mind. I was strapped onto a hospital trolley in a brightly lit basement. It wasn't a hospital, though." She shivered suddenly. "It was rather horrible, actually."
The Doctor got up and pulled off his tuxedo jacket. "Here, put this on. I'll make you some herbal tea to help you sleep." He gave her the jacket, then opened a cupboard for a mug and some teabags.
Saskia pulled off her dressing gown, pulled on his jacket which smelled of fresh air and cinnamon for some reason, then put on her dressing gown again. She wished she had put something on her feet as they suddenly felt cold, which seemed odd since she had often walked around the TARDIS barefoot before and never had cold feet. She crossed her right ankle over her left leg and began rubbing her foot, trying to warm it up.
The Doctor turned around and saw Saskia rubbing her foot. He raised his eyebrows.
"My feet are cold," Saskia explained. "Although I don't know why. They've never felt cold before when I've walked barefoot around the TARDIS."
"Hmm. That's odd." The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver, then hunkered down beside Saskia's chair. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at Saskia's foot.
She stretched out her leg and he cradled her foot in one hand whilst scanning it with his Sonic Screwdriver. "Other one," he said, putting her foot down.
Saskia offered him her other foot and he scanned that too.
"Hmm. Your feet do seem to be several degrees cooler than your legs. How strange." He put away his Sonic Screwdriver then began rubbing Saskia's foot vigorously. "I hope you're not ticklish," he said suddenly.
Saskia raised her eyebrows. "Ticklish?"
"A lot of people are very ticklish on their feet," the Doctor explained.
"Oh. Well I've no idea, no one's ever tried tickling my feet."
"What never?" asked the Doctor in surprise.
"Not that I can recall."
Before the Doctor could answer, the kettle switched itself off, and he put Saskia's foot back on the floor, then got up to make her tea. He put the mug on the table beside her. "It's Camomile and Honey," he told her. "It should help you to sleep."
"Thanks."
"Are you feet still cold?" he asked.
Saskia nodded. The Doctor pulled his chair away from the table, positioned it in front of her and sat down. He patted his knees. "Put them up here," he said.
Saskia lifted her feet up and the Doctor began rubbing her feet vigorously again, one after the other, whilst Saskia slowly drank her tea. She realised she was starting to feel sleepy again, probably because she was warmer, she thought drowsily.
"Saskia."
"Mmm." Saskia realised her eyes were closed and opened them reluctantly.
"Come on, back to bed with you. If you fall asleep there, you'll feel uncomfortable quite quickly."
"Mmm." Saskia felt the Doctor lift her feet from his knees and forced her eyes open again. "Sorry," she said, then yawned hugely, her eyes closing again. She heard the scrape of the Doctor's chair as he got up and knew she should move too, but her body felt too heavy.
"Come on." The Doctor spoke in her ear. He pulled her to her feet, then hooked her right arm around his shoulders, before picking her up. He carried her out of the kitchen and back to her room. He sat her on her bed, pulling off her dressing gown and his jacket. Saskia opened her eyes and looked up at him sleepily. "Thank you."
"No problem. Lie down then."
Saskia obeyed, and the Doctor pulled the bedding up over her. He kissed her forehead. "Sleep well," he said, then turned out the light and left her to sleep. He was a bit surprised that the tea he had given her had proved so effective, and wondered why. He dismissed the thought for another day and went back to the kitchen to wash up their mugs, before taking his book back to the library, where he settled down to read in his favourite chair.
About three hours later he was jolted out of a light doze by the sound of screaming. He leapt out of the chair, shot across the room and through the door, before running down the corridor to Saskia's room. He flung open the door and flicked on the light. Saskia was lying absolutely rigid on the bed, her arms at her sides. He hurried across the room, grabbed her shoulders and attempted to pull her upright. He was appalled when he discovered that he couldn't move her.
"Saskia!" The Doctor wondered if she was having some sort of brain seizure and pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver. A quick scan showed that she was still asleep and dreaming. He pocketed his Sonic Screwdriver and sat down beside her on the bed. He placed two long fingers behind her ears, and two in front on her temples, closed his eyes and reached into her mind.
At first Saskia's nightmare was just a confused impression of noise: a woman was screaming, and a man was yelling at someone else, who was shouting back at him. The second person rushed to the side of the man who was trying to give an injection to the woman as she lay strapped helplessly to a hospital trolley. The second person, a man the Doctor now realised, was trying to stop the woman from screaming. As the first man moved his arm, the Doctor caught a glimpse of the woman's face and realised with a sense of shock that he recognised it. He'd been looking at her face just a few hours ago, after failing to save her from a heart attack.
The Doctor dragged his gaze away and looked for Saskia, finding her huddled in a corner, staring at the scene that was unfolding in her dream. The Doctor reached out to her and pulled her away. Come on Saskia, come back with me. Saskia! Come with me! The Doctor felt a surge of relief when she turned to him and he was able to pull them both out of her nightmare.
He opened his eyes and saw Saskia's green ones looking up at him, a look of fear in their depths. He took his hands from her head, then pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her shaking with fright.
"It's OK, Saskia, it's OK," he murmured softly.
She clung to him tightly, trying not to cry or whimper. Like the Doctor, she had recognised the woman in her dream as Marie, the cellist who had died just a few hours ago. She had no idea what the dream meant, but she had been terrified by Marie's sense of fear and helplessness. She realised now that her earlier nightmare had only been a prelude to this one. She couldn't work out why she was dreaming about Marie, or what had happened to her. Why had those men strapped Marie to a trolley? And what did they know about the disappearances of Martin and Steve?
Saskia's shudders subsided and she loosened her tight grip on the Doctor, and looked at him, to find his warm brown eyes looking anxiously back at her.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Was that the same woman you saw in your earlier nightmare?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes, although I didn't see her face before, so I didn't realise it was Marie the cellist."
"I wonder why you're dreaming about her now, when she's dead?" The Doctor sounded thoughtful and curious.
"And what did those men do to her?" Saskia asked. "One of them is the same chap who was talking to Steve and Martin in the pub on Monday night. I recognised him from Martin's memory."
"Which man was the one they met?"
"The one giving the injection," Saskia answered.
"It's definitely the same man?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes, unless he's got a twin brother."
"We'll have to go to the pub and see if anyone can recognise his description, tell us who he is. I want to know what he's up to, and who he's working with or for." The Doctor's tone was fierce, his face hard with anger.
"I'm going to have a shower and get dressed," Saskia said. "I don't know what time it is, but I really don't want to try to sleep again. Two nightmares in one night is more than enough."
"It's five in the morning," the Doctor said, standing up and stretching languidly.
"Then I'm definitely getting up," Saskia said.
"OK. I think I'll go and have a shower too. I'll see you in the kitchen in a bit."
Saskia nodded her agreement, then turned to pick up her dressing gown as the Doctor went out. She wondered if a shower would make up for her disturbed sleep. Probably not, she decided, but it might make her feel a bit better.
Saskia undressed, then pulled on her favourite pyjamas before crawling into bed. She felt that a week's sleep would be very welcome, never mind a few hours. She found herself sleepily wondering how she'd dared to kiss the Doctor. Perhaps it was because this evening was the first time since she'd met him that he'd seemed genuinely happy. Before she could give the matter any more thought she had fallen asleep.
A few hours later she woke in a panic from a nightmare in which an alien entity had been trying to steal her mind. She sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the room, checking that she was really alone. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees for a few minutes, then decided she didn't want to try to sleep again just in case she went back into the same nightmare. She picked up her dressing gown from the chair beside her bed, and pulled it on, then padded out of her room, her bare feet noiseless in the quiet corridors.
When Saskia opened the kitchen door a few minutes later, she was surprised to find the Doctor seated at the table, a book open in front of him and a mug of tea by his right hand. He was wearing his glasses, his bow tie was hanging loose around his neck, and his hair was sticking up wildly.
"Hello," he said. "I didn't expect to see you for a good few hours yet."
"I had a nightmare," Saskia said as she sat down beside him. "I don't want to go back to sleep again just yet in case I just have the same nightmare again."
"A nightmare? What was it about?" the Doctor asked curiously.
"An alien entity was trying to steal my mind. I was strapped onto a hospital trolley in a brightly lit basement. It wasn't a hospital, though." She shivered suddenly. "It was rather horrible, actually."
The Doctor got up and pulled off his tuxedo jacket. "Here, put this on. I'll make you some herbal tea to help you sleep." He gave her the jacket, then opened a cupboard for a mug and some teabags.
Saskia pulled off her dressing gown, pulled on his jacket which smelled of fresh air and cinnamon for some reason, then put on her dressing gown again. She wished she had put something on her feet as they suddenly felt cold, which seemed odd since she had often walked around the TARDIS barefoot before and never had cold feet. She crossed her right ankle over her left leg and began rubbing her foot, trying to warm it up.
The Doctor turned around and saw Saskia rubbing her foot. He raised his eyebrows.
"My feet are cold," Saskia explained. "Although I don't know why. They've never felt cold before when I've walked barefoot around the TARDIS."
"Hmm. That's odd." The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver, then hunkered down beside Saskia's chair. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at Saskia's foot.
She stretched out her leg and he cradled her foot in one hand whilst scanning it with his Sonic Screwdriver. "Other one," he said, putting her foot down.
Saskia offered him her other foot and he scanned that too.
"Hmm. Your feet do seem to be several degrees cooler than your legs. How strange." He put away his Sonic Screwdriver then began rubbing Saskia's foot vigorously. "I hope you're not ticklish," he said suddenly.
Saskia raised her eyebrows. "Ticklish?"
"A lot of people are very ticklish on their feet," the Doctor explained.
"Oh. Well I've no idea, no one's ever tried tickling my feet."
"What never?" asked the Doctor in surprise.
"Not that I can recall."
Before the Doctor could answer, the kettle switched itself off, and he put Saskia's foot back on the floor, then got up to make her tea. He put the mug on the table beside her. "It's Camomile and Honey," he told her. "It should help you to sleep."
"Thanks."
"Are you feet still cold?" he asked.
Saskia nodded. The Doctor pulled his chair away from the table, positioned it in front of her and sat down. He patted his knees. "Put them up here," he said.
Saskia lifted her feet up and the Doctor began rubbing her feet vigorously again, one after the other, whilst Saskia slowly drank her tea. She realised she was starting to feel sleepy again, probably because she was warmer, she thought drowsily.
"Saskia."
"Mmm." Saskia realised her eyes were closed and opened them reluctantly.
"Come on, back to bed with you. If you fall asleep there, you'll feel uncomfortable quite quickly."
"Mmm." Saskia felt the Doctor lift her feet from his knees and forced her eyes open again. "Sorry," she said, then yawned hugely, her eyes closing again. She heard the scrape of the Doctor's chair as he got up and knew she should move too, but her body felt too heavy.
"Come on." The Doctor spoke in her ear. He pulled her to her feet, then hooked her right arm around his shoulders, before picking her up. He carried her out of the kitchen and back to her room. He sat her on her bed, pulling off her dressing gown and his jacket. Saskia opened her eyes and looked up at him sleepily. "Thank you."
"No problem. Lie down then."
Saskia obeyed, and the Doctor pulled the bedding up over her. He kissed her forehead. "Sleep well," he said, then turned out the light and left her to sleep. He was a bit surprised that the tea he had given her had proved so effective, and wondered why. He dismissed the thought for another day and went back to the kitchen to wash up their mugs, before taking his book back to the library, where he settled down to read in his favourite chair.
About three hours later he was jolted out of a light doze by the sound of screaming. He leapt out of the chair, shot across the room and through the door, before running down the corridor to Saskia's room. He flung open the door and flicked on the light. Saskia was lying absolutely rigid on the bed, her arms at her sides. He hurried across the room, grabbed her shoulders and attempted to pull her upright. He was appalled when he discovered that he couldn't move her.
"Saskia!" The Doctor wondered if she was having some sort of brain seizure and pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver. A quick scan showed that she was still asleep and dreaming. He pocketed his Sonic Screwdriver and sat down beside her on the bed. He placed two long fingers behind her ears, and two in front on her temples, closed his eyes and reached into her mind.
At first Saskia's nightmare was just a confused impression of noise: a woman was screaming, and a man was yelling at someone else, who was shouting back at him. The second person rushed to the side of the man who was trying to give an injection to the woman as she lay strapped helplessly to a hospital trolley. The second person, a man the Doctor now realised, was trying to stop the woman from screaming. As the first man moved his arm, the Doctor caught a glimpse of the woman's face and realised with a sense of shock that he recognised it. He'd been looking at her face just a few hours ago, after failing to save her from a heart attack.
The Doctor dragged his gaze away and looked for Saskia, finding her huddled in a corner, staring at the scene that was unfolding in her dream. The Doctor reached out to her and pulled her away. Come on Saskia, come back with me. Saskia! Come with me! The Doctor felt a surge of relief when she turned to him and he was able to pull them both out of her nightmare.
He opened his eyes and saw Saskia's green ones looking up at him, a look of fear in their depths. He took his hands from her head, then pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her shaking with fright.
"It's OK, Saskia, it's OK," he murmured softly.
She clung to him tightly, trying not to cry or whimper. Like the Doctor, she had recognised the woman in her dream as Marie, the cellist who had died just a few hours ago. She had no idea what the dream meant, but she had been terrified by Marie's sense of fear and helplessness. She realised now that her earlier nightmare had only been a prelude to this one. She couldn't work out why she was dreaming about Marie, or what had happened to her. Why had those men strapped Marie to a trolley? And what did they know about the disappearances of Martin and Steve?
Saskia's shudders subsided and she loosened her tight grip on the Doctor, and looked at him, to find his warm brown eyes looking anxiously back at her.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Was that the same woman you saw in your earlier nightmare?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes, although I didn't see her face before, so I didn't realise it was Marie the cellist."
"I wonder why you're dreaming about her now, when she's dead?" The Doctor sounded thoughtful and curious.
"And what did those men do to her?" Saskia asked. "One of them is the same chap who was talking to Steve and Martin in the pub on Monday night. I recognised him from Martin's memory."
"Which man was the one they met?"
"The one giving the injection," Saskia answered.
"It's definitely the same man?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes, unless he's got a twin brother."
"We'll have to go to the pub and see if anyone can recognise his description, tell us who he is. I want to know what he's up to, and who he's working with or for." The Doctor's tone was fierce, his face hard with anger.
"I'm going to have a shower and get dressed," Saskia said. "I don't know what time it is, but I really don't want to try to sleep again. Two nightmares in one night is more than enough."
"It's five in the morning," the Doctor said, standing up and stretching languidly.
"Then I'm definitely getting up," Saskia said.
"OK. I think I'll go and have a shower too. I'll see you in the kitchen in a bit."
Saskia nodded her agreement, then turned to pick up her dressing gown as the Doctor went out. She wondered if a shower would make up for her disturbed sleep. Probably not, she decided, but it might make her feel a bit better.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 2 Part 2
Saskia looked out into the corridor after him and nodded to Mr Rogers, who was waiting in the corridor again. He went away to fetch the clarinettist, and Saskia leant against the wall, her eyes closed in exhaustion.
The Doctor put his hand on her shoulder. "OK?" he asked softly.
She opened her eyes and looked up at his concerned face. "Tired. More than tired, actually," she answered.
"We'll head for the TARDIS as soon as we've spoken to Steve," the Doctor promised her.
She nodded, then pulled herself away from the wall as the door opened and a young man entered the room. He was a few inches taller than Martin, and looked several years older, although that may have been the effect of his beard. He looked more relaxed than Martin.
The Doctor introduced himself and Saskia, then explained what they wanted to know. "We understand from Martin that you and he went for a drink on Monday evening?" the Doctor said, carefully not mentioning the fact that Martin hadn't actually told them this.
"Yeah we did, but there's nothing unusual in that. It's not as if we had a concert until Wednesday."
Saskia noticed that Steve suddenly seemed more wary, almost defensive, now and wondered why. She glanced at the Doctor and saw from the expression in his eyes that he had also noticed Steve's wariness.
"That's OK. We just wondered what you could tell us about your missing 24 hours," the Doctor said.
Steve shrugged. "Nothing. I remember leaving the pub with Martin and the chap that we'd been talking to in there, then nothing until the next evening."
"Are you prone to losing 24 hours of your life?" Saskia asked curiously.
"No. The only other time it's happened was when I was in my teens and I had the flu. I slept for 24 hours straight."
"But you weren't ill this time?" Saskia asked.
Steve shook his head. "No. I felt a bit odd on Tuesday evening, sort of dizzy and disoriented, but I put that down to the fact I hadn't eaten for 24 hours, once I knew that's how much time had passed."
"And did you tell anyone what had happened?" the Doctor asked.
"Only Julie, Marie and Martin. We'd arranged to go the cinema together on Tuesday evening and the two girls were trying to get hold of us when we didn't show up as arranged."
"This chap you met in the pub, was he a local do you think?" asked the Doctor.
Steve shrugged. "I guess. He didn't have a particularly noticeable accent, not that he said a lot."
"What did he look like?" asked Saskia.
"About 35, 40. Five foot nine, I guess. Very short black hair. And wearing dark clothes that were neat, but worn, like he'd had them a few years."
"Fat, thin, in the middle?" Saskia asked.
"Bulky, but it was muscle, not fat, like he worked out regularly," Steve said.
"OK, thanks. Where can we contact you, if we need to?" asked the Doctor.
"I'll give you my mobile number," Steve said.
The Doctor nodded and pulled a slim silver object from his jacket pocket. As he flipped it open Saskia realised it was a mobile phone, something she'd never seen before. Steve recited his number and the Doctor tapped it into the phone.
"What about Martin's and Julie's numbers?" the Doctor asked. "I forgot to ask them."
Steve recited two more numbers. "Is that it?" he asked. "Can I go now?"
"Yes thanks," answered the Doctor.
Saskia opened the door and watched him go down the corridor before crossing over to the sofa and slumping down onto it. The Doctor perched on its arm, next to her.
"What I can't understand is how calm they are about losing 24 hours of their life. If that happened to you and no one could tell you why, wouldn't you be at least a little concerned?" he asked.
"I'd be very worried," Saskia said. "Possibly even panicking."
"Exactly." He rubbed the back of his head absent-mindedly.
"Perhaps they were drugged and the drugs were tranquillisers?" Saskia suggested, eyes closed and head leaning back against the sofa. The Doctor looked down at her pale face and the dark shadows under her eyes.
"Come on," he said, standing up briskly. "Time my lady was in her bed before she turns into a pumpkin."
Saskia opened one eye and squinted up at him. "Servant girl, surely?" she asked with a tired smile.
"Depends which version of the fairy tale you know," the Doctor answered with a grin. He held out both his hands and when Saskia grasped them, pulled her to her feet.
"Where did you leave your carriage?" she asked, stifling a yawn as they walked out into the corridor.
"Near a riverbank," the Doctor answered.
Saskia stopped dead in her tracks. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I simply cannot walk back there tonight. I'll be asleep on my feet before much longer."
"No need," the Doctor answered, slipping her arm through his own. "I shall summon my carriage." He patted his breast pocket where Saskia knew he usually kept his Sonic Screwdriver.
"Oh good," she murmured, allowing him to lead her out of the building. She blinked in surprise when the cold night air hit her face.
"Come on," the Doctor said. "We'll just go around the corner and find a quiet spot for the TARDIS to materialise in."
Saskia went where she was led, stumbling slightly in her weariness. They stopped by a sign that indicated they were in Brasenose Lane. The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and activated the remote control program. Moments later the TARDIS dematerialised with its familiar wheeze, and the Doctor guided Saskia inside.
"Go on," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Bed."
She took a step away from him, then stopped and turned back to him again. "Thank you," she said. "I enjoyed the first part of the evening."
"Good." The Doctor smiled at her, brown eyes alight with pleasure. Saskia took another step towards him, then reached out and hugged him. She was relieved when he wrapped his arms around her in return. She looked up at his face, then stood on tiptoes to kiss him, before pulling away and heading out of the Control Room.
Stan was relieved when he heard Kevin let himself back into the house, banging the back door shut, as he always did. He went upstairs and into the kitchen, glancing up at the clock to see that it was ten o'clock. "How drunk are you?" he asked.
Kevin looked at him owlishly. " 'm not drunk," he said.
"Prove it." Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the passage that led to the stairs and the basement. "Walk along there."
He watched closely as Kevin walked reasonably steadily along the corridor. "Good enough," he said. "Our third guest is now conscious, though currently she's asleep. You're going to watch her for me until Ned relieves you, and I'm going to bed."
Kevin groaned softly "Aw Stan, you know I 'ate that job," he said.
Stan looked at him scornfully. "Do you want to go and tell my master that?" he asked.
Kevin gulped. "Nah. I'll go downstairs." He shuffled off along the corridor and Stan made himself comfortable on a camp bed in the corner of the kitchen. He'd ask Ned to relieve Kevin around two o'clock, then he could go to his own room. He closed his eyes, glad that he'd long ago mastered the habit of sleeping lightly. About an hour later Ned let himself into the house, far more quietly than Kevin had done, but Stan was awake immediately. He reached out and turned on the small lamp beside the bed and Ned blinked in the sudden light.
"Ned, can you relieve Kevin at two? He's downstairs watching our third guest."
Ned nodded.
"Good man. Lock that door, will you? I'm going to bed." He went out, leaving Ned to lock up.
The Doctor put his hand on her shoulder. "OK?" he asked softly.
She opened her eyes and looked up at his concerned face. "Tired. More than tired, actually," she answered.
"We'll head for the TARDIS as soon as we've spoken to Steve," the Doctor promised her.
She nodded, then pulled herself away from the wall as the door opened and a young man entered the room. He was a few inches taller than Martin, and looked several years older, although that may have been the effect of his beard. He looked more relaxed than Martin.
The Doctor introduced himself and Saskia, then explained what they wanted to know. "We understand from Martin that you and he went for a drink on Monday evening?" the Doctor said, carefully not mentioning the fact that Martin hadn't actually told them this.
"Yeah we did, but there's nothing unusual in that. It's not as if we had a concert until Wednesday."
Saskia noticed that Steve suddenly seemed more wary, almost defensive, now and wondered why. She glanced at the Doctor and saw from the expression in his eyes that he had also noticed Steve's wariness.
"That's OK. We just wondered what you could tell us about your missing 24 hours," the Doctor said.
Steve shrugged. "Nothing. I remember leaving the pub with Martin and the chap that we'd been talking to in there, then nothing until the next evening."
"Are you prone to losing 24 hours of your life?" Saskia asked curiously.
"No. The only other time it's happened was when I was in my teens and I had the flu. I slept for 24 hours straight."
"But you weren't ill this time?" Saskia asked.
Steve shook his head. "No. I felt a bit odd on Tuesday evening, sort of dizzy and disoriented, but I put that down to the fact I hadn't eaten for 24 hours, once I knew that's how much time had passed."
"And did you tell anyone what had happened?" the Doctor asked.
"Only Julie, Marie and Martin. We'd arranged to go the cinema together on Tuesday evening and the two girls were trying to get hold of us when we didn't show up as arranged."
"This chap you met in the pub, was he a local do you think?" asked the Doctor.
Steve shrugged. "I guess. He didn't have a particularly noticeable accent, not that he said a lot."
"What did he look like?" asked Saskia.
"About 35, 40. Five foot nine, I guess. Very short black hair. And wearing dark clothes that were neat, but worn, like he'd had them a few years."
"Fat, thin, in the middle?" Saskia asked.
"Bulky, but it was muscle, not fat, like he worked out regularly," Steve said.
"OK, thanks. Where can we contact you, if we need to?" asked the Doctor.
"I'll give you my mobile number," Steve said.
The Doctor nodded and pulled a slim silver object from his jacket pocket. As he flipped it open Saskia realised it was a mobile phone, something she'd never seen before. Steve recited his number and the Doctor tapped it into the phone.
"What about Martin's and Julie's numbers?" the Doctor asked. "I forgot to ask them."
Steve recited two more numbers. "Is that it?" he asked. "Can I go now?"
"Yes thanks," answered the Doctor.
Saskia opened the door and watched him go down the corridor before crossing over to the sofa and slumping down onto it. The Doctor perched on its arm, next to her.
"What I can't understand is how calm they are about losing 24 hours of their life. If that happened to you and no one could tell you why, wouldn't you be at least a little concerned?" he asked.
"I'd be very worried," Saskia said. "Possibly even panicking."
"Exactly." He rubbed the back of his head absent-mindedly.
"Perhaps they were drugged and the drugs were tranquillisers?" Saskia suggested, eyes closed and head leaning back against the sofa. The Doctor looked down at her pale face and the dark shadows under her eyes.
"Come on," he said, standing up briskly. "Time my lady was in her bed before she turns into a pumpkin."
Saskia opened one eye and squinted up at him. "Servant girl, surely?" she asked with a tired smile.
"Depends which version of the fairy tale you know," the Doctor answered with a grin. He held out both his hands and when Saskia grasped them, pulled her to her feet.
"Where did you leave your carriage?" she asked, stifling a yawn as they walked out into the corridor.
"Near a riverbank," the Doctor answered.
Saskia stopped dead in her tracks. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I simply cannot walk back there tonight. I'll be asleep on my feet before much longer."
"No need," the Doctor answered, slipping her arm through his own. "I shall summon my carriage." He patted his breast pocket where Saskia knew he usually kept his Sonic Screwdriver.
"Oh good," she murmured, allowing him to lead her out of the building. She blinked in surprise when the cold night air hit her face.
"Come on," the Doctor said. "We'll just go around the corner and find a quiet spot for the TARDIS to materialise in."
Saskia went where she was led, stumbling slightly in her weariness. They stopped by a sign that indicated they were in Brasenose Lane. The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and activated the remote control program. Moments later the TARDIS dematerialised with its familiar wheeze, and the Doctor guided Saskia inside.
"Go on," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Bed."
She took a step away from him, then stopped and turned back to him again. "Thank you," she said. "I enjoyed the first part of the evening."
"Good." The Doctor smiled at her, brown eyes alight with pleasure. Saskia took another step towards him, then reached out and hugged him. She was relieved when he wrapped his arms around her in return. She looked up at his face, then stood on tiptoes to kiss him, before pulling away and heading out of the Control Room.
Stan was relieved when he heard Kevin let himself back into the house, banging the back door shut, as he always did. He went upstairs and into the kitchen, glancing up at the clock to see that it was ten o'clock. "How drunk are you?" he asked.
Kevin looked at him owlishly. " 'm not drunk," he said.
"Prove it." Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the passage that led to the stairs and the basement. "Walk along there."
He watched closely as Kevin walked reasonably steadily along the corridor. "Good enough," he said. "Our third guest is now conscious, though currently she's asleep. You're going to watch her for me until Ned relieves you, and I'm going to bed."
Kevin groaned softly "Aw Stan, you know I 'ate that job," he said.
Stan looked at him scornfully. "Do you want to go and tell my master that?" he asked.
Kevin gulped. "Nah. I'll go downstairs." He shuffled off along the corridor and Stan made himself comfortable on a camp bed in the corner of the kitchen. He'd ask Ned to relieve Kevin around two o'clock, then he could go to his own room. He closed his eyes, glad that he'd long ago mastered the habit of sleeping lightly. About an hour later Ned let himself into the house, far more quietly than Kevin had done, but Stan was awake immediately. He reached out and turned on the small lamp beside the bed and Ned blinked in the sudden light.
"Ned, can you relieve Kevin at two? He's downstairs watching our third guest."
Ned nodded.
"Good man. Lock that door, will you? I'm going to bed." He went out, leaving Ned to lock up.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 2 Part 1
The Doctor quickly outlined his concerns to Mr Rogers and asked if they could talk to those musicians who had been close to the cellist.
"Marie was friendliest with Martin the Principal Violinist, Steve the clarinettist, and Julie the flautist," Mr Rogers said.
"We'll talk to them first then – but not in there," the Doctor said, jerking his thumb at the room where Marie had died.
Mr Rogers nodded and led them into a smaller room next door. "I'll go and fetch the others," he said.
"We'll see them one at a time, Julie first," the Doctor said. He sat down on the sofa and Saskia sat next to him, wishing the evening had turned out differently.
"Listen, I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of your natural abilities, nor do I want to make you feel uncomfortable, but if you get the chance to read anyone's mind, will you do so, for the sake of helping me to find out what's going on?"
Saskia swallowed a slight feeling of distaste and nodded. The Doctor held her hand for a moment. "I know you usually ask people's permission before reading their thoughts, but I don't want to get caught up in long explanations of how you can read their thoughts, or what we're doing here."
Saskia nodded again. "I understand," she said.
He squeezed her fingers. "Thanks."
The door opened and Mr Rogers ushered in a small, blonde-haired woman. Her eyes were red from crying, but otherwise she had an attractive face. The Doctor got up, shook hands with her, and introduced himself and Saskia, before leading her to the seat he had vacated.
"Can you tell us something about Marie?" he asked gently.
Julie nodded, then started to cry again. Saskia pulled a handful of tissues from a box on the nearby table and gave them to Julie, then put her arm around the other woman's shoulders. She skimmed lightly through Julie's thoughts and memories, her own mind no more than a feathery touch on Julie's. Saskia concentrated carefully on ensuring that Julie was unaware of her presence, shutting out the Doctor's voice asking questions, and Julie's answers. After ten minutes she pulled her mind away from Julie's and focused on the Doctor's voice again, using it to anchor herself back in her own mind.
"Has anyone reported these disappearances to the authorities?" the Doctor asked.
Julie shook her head. "The police only file a Missing Person's report if someone is gone for more than a few days, and since they all came back within 24 hours, and unharmed apart from amnesia, no one thought to worry too much."
The Doctor gave her a disbelieving look. "Three musicians disappear for 24 hours at a time, then come back with no recollection of where they've been, and no one thought it was worth worrying about?" he asked incredulously.
Julie shrugged. "Everyone's been stressed lately – our schedule is at its busiest for the next four months. I think we all assumed that Steve and Martin had been on a bender and were just too embarrassed to admit to it."
The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "And Marie?" he asked.
Julie looked slightly ashamed. "She split up with her long-term partner last month. I – I thought that maybe she'd found a new man but didn't want to say anything yet." She blushed furiously.
Saskia cast a glance at the Doctor, who was gaping at the flautist in patent disbelief. She glowered at him, then patted Julie's arm. "Thank you for talking to us," she said. "I'm truly sorry about your friend's death." She got up and Julie stood up too, following Saskia to the door. Saskia saw Mr Rogers outside. "Give us five minutes before we see Martin?" she asked. He nodded and Saskia shut the door, then turned to the Doctor who was pacing backwards and forwards across the room. He looked up at Saskia.
"Humans!" he exclaimed. "Your capacity for self-delusion never ceases to amaze me!"
Saskia shrugged. "I think it's hardwired in to us," she said. "Anyway, what do we make of the fact that three musicians from one orchestra have gone missing for 24 hours, and come back with no recollection of where they've been?"
"To be honest, I don't know what to make of it," the Doctor said, frustration in both his voice and his body language.
"Then let's talk to the two men and see what I can find out from them," Saskia suggested, "though it may be harder with them."
"Why?"
"They might not want a strange woman putting her arm around them, assuming that it's even necessary for me to do so," Saskia answered, giving him a look that said it should be obvious.
"Oh yes, I see what you mean," the Doctor said. "Well, do the best that you can please."
Saskia nodded as the door opened and Mr Rogers ushered in the violinist. Martin was in his early twenties, though he looked younger. Saskia thought he looked tired, especially around the eyes, but he didn't seem obviously upset about Marie's death.
The Doctor introduced himself and Saskia, but before he could ask any questions, Martin spoke.
"Are you the police?" he asked, not moving from the spot inside the door where he had stopped after being shown in to the room.
"No," answered the Doctor.
"Then why should I answer your questions?" asked the young man in a belligerent tone.
"Because someone whom we were told was a friend of yours has just died in mysterious circumstances," the Doctor said, a sharp note of disbelief in his voice.
Saskia sensed that he couldn't quite believe that Martin wasn't prepared to talk to them. "Martin, we just want to find out why Marie died, and if you can answer a few questions that will help us to do so," she said.
"I thought she had a heart-attack?" he asked, clearly still suspicious of them.
"She did," answered the Doctor, "but as far as I can tell, she wasn't suffering from heart disease, so there was no obvious reason for her to have a heart attack."
Martin looked from the Doctor to Saskia, who tried to smile encouragingly at him. The Doctor was losing patience, Saskia could tell. Martin half turned towards the door, and Saskia reached out, grabbing his hand. "Would it really hurt to answer a couple of questions?" she asked persuasively.
He hesitated and Saskia flicked a glance at the Doctor, who moved to stand on the other side of the violinist. Before Martin could ask what was happening, the Doctor reached out and touched his temple. As he fell, Saskia and the Doctor caught him between them and got him over to the sofa.
"What is it with this lot?" the Doctor grumbled in exasperation.
"No idea," Saskia answered. "Are you going to talk to him or shall I just read his thoughts?"
The Doctor looked at her. "Can you read his thoughts? It would be the quickest way to get some answers."
Saskia sat down beside the violinist and took his hands in her own. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to sort through the rather confused images in Martin's mind. She let go of his hands a few minutes later and opened her eyes to see the Doctor hunkered beside her, looking hopeful.
She frowned. "Something odd happened to him. He and Steve went to a pub on Monday evening for a couple of drinks. They met a man there who bought them some drinks and listened to them talking about music and their life in the orchestra. Martin remembers that he and Steve left the pub with this man, and then he woke up in his digs on Tuesday evening, but he has no memory of what happened during the 24 hours between leaving the pub and waking up."
"How much did he drink?" asked the Doctor.
"Only two glasses of red wine."
The Doctor frowned. "Well that was hardly a drinking binge. What was this man like, the one they met at the pub?"
"In his late thirties or early forties. Very short black hair, dark clothes that looked a bit shabby. He was solidly built, but it was muscle, not fat that made him bulky. According to Martin's recollection of him this man didn't say a lot."
"Hmm. That's not a lot to go on. Which pub did they go to?"
"The Gardener's Arms, on Plantation Road," Saskia answered.
"Let's wake him up then, so we can talk to the clarinettist. I just hope he's more co-operative," the Doctor said.
"So do I," Saskia said wearily.
They got the violinist over to the door again, and Saskia watched as the Doctor touched his temple, waking him up again.
"What?" Martin asked, looking a little bemused.
"I was just saying that we wouldn't keep you any longer, but if you change your mind about talking to us, we'd be very interested in hearing from you," the Doctor said as he opened the door.
"Right." The violinist went out.
"Marie was friendliest with Martin the Principal Violinist, Steve the clarinettist, and Julie the flautist," Mr Rogers said.
"We'll talk to them first then – but not in there," the Doctor said, jerking his thumb at the room where Marie had died.
Mr Rogers nodded and led them into a smaller room next door. "I'll go and fetch the others," he said.
"We'll see them one at a time, Julie first," the Doctor said. He sat down on the sofa and Saskia sat next to him, wishing the evening had turned out differently.
"Listen, I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of your natural abilities, nor do I want to make you feel uncomfortable, but if you get the chance to read anyone's mind, will you do so, for the sake of helping me to find out what's going on?"
Saskia swallowed a slight feeling of distaste and nodded. The Doctor held her hand for a moment. "I know you usually ask people's permission before reading their thoughts, but I don't want to get caught up in long explanations of how you can read their thoughts, or what we're doing here."
Saskia nodded again. "I understand," she said.
He squeezed her fingers. "Thanks."
The door opened and Mr Rogers ushered in a small, blonde-haired woman. Her eyes were red from crying, but otherwise she had an attractive face. The Doctor got up, shook hands with her, and introduced himself and Saskia, before leading her to the seat he had vacated.
"Can you tell us something about Marie?" he asked gently.
Julie nodded, then started to cry again. Saskia pulled a handful of tissues from a box on the nearby table and gave them to Julie, then put her arm around the other woman's shoulders. She skimmed lightly through Julie's thoughts and memories, her own mind no more than a feathery touch on Julie's. Saskia concentrated carefully on ensuring that Julie was unaware of her presence, shutting out the Doctor's voice asking questions, and Julie's answers. After ten minutes she pulled her mind away from Julie's and focused on the Doctor's voice again, using it to anchor herself back in her own mind.
"Has anyone reported these disappearances to the authorities?" the Doctor asked.
Julie shook her head. "The police only file a Missing Person's report if someone is gone for more than a few days, and since they all came back within 24 hours, and unharmed apart from amnesia, no one thought to worry too much."
The Doctor gave her a disbelieving look. "Three musicians disappear for 24 hours at a time, then come back with no recollection of where they've been, and no one thought it was worth worrying about?" he asked incredulously.
Julie shrugged. "Everyone's been stressed lately – our schedule is at its busiest for the next four months. I think we all assumed that Steve and Martin had been on a bender and were just too embarrassed to admit to it."
The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "And Marie?" he asked.
Julie looked slightly ashamed. "She split up with her long-term partner last month. I – I thought that maybe she'd found a new man but didn't want to say anything yet." She blushed furiously.
Saskia cast a glance at the Doctor, who was gaping at the flautist in patent disbelief. She glowered at him, then patted Julie's arm. "Thank you for talking to us," she said. "I'm truly sorry about your friend's death." She got up and Julie stood up too, following Saskia to the door. Saskia saw Mr Rogers outside. "Give us five minutes before we see Martin?" she asked. He nodded and Saskia shut the door, then turned to the Doctor who was pacing backwards and forwards across the room. He looked up at Saskia.
"Humans!" he exclaimed. "Your capacity for self-delusion never ceases to amaze me!"
Saskia shrugged. "I think it's hardwired in to us," she said. "Anyway, what do we make of the fact that three musicians from one orchestra have gone missing for 24 hours, and come back with no recollection of where they've been?"
"To be honest, I don't know what to make of it," the Doctor said, frustration in both his voice and his body language.
"Then let's talk to the two men and see what I can find out from them," Saskia suggested, "though it may be harder with them."
"Why?"
"They might not want a strange woman putting her arm around them, assuming that it's even necessary for me to do so," Saskia answered, giving him a look that said it should be obvious.
"Oh yes, I see what you mean," the Doctor said. "Well, do the best that you can please."
Saskia nodded as the door opened and Mr Rogers ushered in the violinist. Martin was in his early twenties, though he looked younger. Saskia thought he looked tired, especially around the eyes, but he didn't seem obviously upset about Marie's death.
The Doctor introduced himself and Saskia, but before he could ask any questions, Martin spoke.
"Are you the police?" he asked, not moving from the spot inside the door where he had stopped after being shown in to the room.
"No," answered the Doctor.
"Then why should I answer your questions?" asked the young man in a belligerent tone.
"Because someone whom we were told was a friend of yours has just died in mysterious circumstances," the Doctor said, a sharp note of disbelief in his voice.
Saskia sensed that he couldn't quite believe that Martin wasn't prepared to talk to them. "Martin, we just want to find out why Marie died, and if you can answer a few questions that will help us to do so," she said.
"I thought she had a heart-attack?" he asked, clearly still suspicious of them.
"She did," answered the Doctor, "but as far as I can tell, she wasn't suffering from heart disease, so there was no obvious reason for her to have a heart attack."
Martin looked from the Doctor to Saskia, who tried to smile encouragingly at him. The Doctor was losing patience, Saskia could tell. Martin half turned towards the door, and Saskia reached out, grabbing his hand. "Would it really hurt to answer a couple of questions?" she asked persuasively.
He hesitated and Saskia flicked a glance at the Doctor, who moved to stand on the other side of the violinist. Before Martin could ask what was happening, the Doctor reached out and touched his temple. As he fell, Saskia and the Doctor caught him between them and got him over to the sofa.
"What is it with this lot?" the Doctor grumbled in exasperation.
"No idea," Saskia answered. "Are you going to talk to him or shall I just read his thoughts?"
The Doctor looked at her. "Can you read his thoughts? It would be the quickest way to get some answers."
Saskia sat down beside the violinist and took his hands in her own. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to sort through the rather confused images in Martin's mind. She let go of his hands a few minutes later and opened her eyes to see the Doctor hunkered beside her, looking hopeful.
She frowned. "Something odd happened to him. He and Steve went to a pub on Monday evening for a couple of drinks. They met a man there who bought them some drinks and listened to them talking about music and their life in the orchestra. Martin remembers that he and Steve left the pub with this man, and then he woke up in his digs on Tuesday evening, but he has no memory of what happened during the 24 hours between leaving the pub and waking up."
"How much did he drink?" asked the Doctor.
"Only two glasses of red wine."
The Doctor frowned. "Well that was hardly a drinking binge. What was this man like, the one they met at the pub?"
"In his late thirties or early forties. Very short black hair, dark clothes that looked a bit shabby. He was solidly built, but it was muscle, not fat that made him bulky. According to Martin's recollection of him this man didn't say a lot."
"Hmm. That's not a lot to go on. Which pub did they go to?"
"The Gardener's Arms, on Plantation Road," Saskia answered.
"Let's wake him up then, so we can talk to the clarinettist. I just hope he's more co-operative," the Doctor said.
"So do I," Saskia said wearily.
They got the violinist over to the door again, and Saskia watched as the Doctor touched his temple, waking him up again.
"What?" Martin asked, looking a little bemused.
"I was just saying that we wouldn't keep you any longer, but if you change your mind about talking to us, we'd be very interested in hearing from you," the Doctor said as he opened the door.
"Right." The violinist went out.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 1 Part 3
Stan went back downstairs to the kitchen and a few moments later Ned let himself in through the back door.
"OK?" he asked as he filled the kettle, then took a plastic bottle of milk from the fridge.
"Yep." Ned was a taciturn man, a few years younger than Stan. He was solidly built, but it was all muscle that made up his bulk. He also kept his ginger hair very short, and his dark clothes were tidy but a little shabby.
"Go and have a look to see if our other guest is awake yet downstairs, will you?" Stan asked. "Then I'll fix us a meal."
Ned nodded and went out down the long passageway that ended in a staircase that led into the basement. He opened the heavy oak door quietly and looked over at the hospital trolley, then flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights. The figure lying on the trolley was almost as still as death, only the slight rise and fall of the sheet over her chest showing that she was actually alive. He could see that the woman's eyes were closed. He turned the lights off again and went back to the kitchen. He had no interest in the dark-haired woman who was strapped to the trolley, beyond the interest that was required of him by his master.
He went back to the kitchen where a mug of tea was waiting for him. Stan was busy frying eggs and bacon. Ned sat down at the table and drank some of his tea, before pulling a loaf of bread on a board towards him. He began cutting thick slices from it, which he buttered and piled onto a plate.
"I presume she's still sleeping then?" Stan asked as he lifted the eggs and bacon from the pan onto two more plates.
"Yep."
Stan served up chips and baked beans as well, then they settled down to their meal in silence.
"OK?" he asked as he filled the kettle, then took a plastic bottle of milk from the fridge.
"Yep." Ned was a taciturn man, a few years younger than Stan. He was solidly built, but it was all muscle that made up his bulk. He also kept his ginger hair very short, and his dark clothes were tidy but a little shabby.
"Go and have a look to see if our other guest is awake yet downstairs, will you?" Stan asked. "Then I'll fix us a meal."
Ned nodded and went out down the long passageway that ended in a staircase that led into the basement. He opened the heavy oak door quietly and looked over at the hospital trolley, then flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights. The figure lying on the trolley was almost as still as death, only the slight rise and fall of the sheet over her chest showing that she was actually alive. He could see that the woman's eyes were closed. He turned the lights off again and went back to the kitchen. He had no interest in the dark-haired woman who was strapped to the trolley, beyond the interest that was required of him by his master.
He went back to the kitchen where a mug of tea was waiting for him. Stan was busy frying eggs and bacon. Ned sat down at the table and drank some of his tea, before pulling a loaf of bread on a board towards him. He began cutting thick slices from it, which he buttered and piled onto a plate.
"I presume she's still sleeping then?" Stan asked as he lifted the eggs and bacon from the pan onto two more plates.
"Yep."
Stan served up chips and baked beans as well, then they settled down to their meal in silence.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 1 Part 2
It wasn't long before the limo pulled up outside the Randolph Hotel, which Saskia remembered seeing on their last visit to Oxford. She couldn't help glancing back across the road at the Ashmolean Museum as she waited for the Doctor to get out of the car first. He caught the direction of her glance and clasped her hand in his, then got out. She followed him and they went inside the restaurant where various members of staff immediately began fussing around them. Saskia found herself wondering who the Doctor had told them he was since she was sure he hadn't used his real name. She gave a mental shrug and followed the Doctor and the maitre d' to their table.
The Doctor looked at the menu, then at Saskia, who was looking slightly dazed. "What do you fancy to eat?" he asked.
Saskia focused her attention on the menu. "I have no idea," she said, closing it after a few moments. "You choose." She looked around the restaurant, taking in the display of the coats of arms of the various colleges that made up the University of Oxford, the plush red velvet curtains, the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, and found herself wondering if she would wake up in a minute and find she was just dreaming all this. It certainly beats Rose's chips after the end of the world! she thought, trying not to feel smug.
The Doctor's voice broke in on her thoughts. "So, what can you tell me about the music we're going to hear?"
Saskia explained that Elgar had been considered one of England's finest composers and he had written the Cello Concerto in 1919, not long after the end of the First World War of Earth's twentieth century. She explained it was intended to be a lament for the world that had been lost during the War that had changed Europe forever.
"Have you heard it played live before?" the Doctor asked after she had finished explaining its structure and themes.
"No. I've got a couple of recordings of it, one of which I brought with me from home, but I've never heard it played live."
"Then the concert will be a treat," the Doctor said, looking pleased.
"Oh yes," Saskia agreed, her green eyes shining with excitement.
They finished their meal soon afterwards and Saskia was surprised to discover an hour had passed. "How are we getting to the Theatre?" she asked as they went outside.
"Walking, it's not far from here."
"OK."
The Doctor offered her his arm again, and she took it, secretly amused that he was being so gentlemanly. She wondered if it was because he was anticipating monsters later and wanted to make the most of the evening before they arrived. Then she decided that she wouldn't ask him as she didn't want to embarrass him when the evening had been perfect so far.
Stan let himself into the large ground floor room at the back of the house. It had been a dining room once upon a time, but now it was home to two musicians, the guests of his master. The two men looked up from tuning their instruments. The violinist was in his early twenties, but looked younger. The clarinettist was in his late twenties, but looked older because of the beard he wore.
"Dinner," Stan said, setting down the tray on the table.
"Thanks."
"Thank you."
They laid aside their instruments and crossed to the table.
"How's it going?" Stan asked them.
"Fine. We'll be ready for the concert," answered the clarinettist.
"Good. My master will be delighted to hear that." He let himself back out of the room, locking the door behind him, and went upstairs to his master's room. He knocked on the door and a low voice answered.
"Come in."
Stan went in. As usual the room was dimly lit, the curtains pulled tight across the windows that overlooked the garden, and only a low power bulb in the lamp on the desk. Stan wondered, not for the first time, how his master could see to work, but he knew better than to ask.
"Sir."
His master looked up from his desk. He was a tall man with short steel grey hair, dressed in a black pinstripe suit, a dark tie and a crisp white shirt with shining cufflinks. He met Stan's gaze over a pair of gold framed, half moon reading glasses. He wore shiny black leather shoes with pointed toes, and a pale beige silk scarf was flung negligently around his neck and shoulders.
"Stanley?" His voice rasped as if he rarely spoke and his skin was pale from lack of natural light.
"Ned's taken the cellist in to town," Stan said, standing stiffly at attention.
"And has our third guest awoken yet?"
"No sir."
"Inform me the moment she does."
"Sir." Stan nodded and turned away, letting himself out of the room quietly. Sometimes he couldn't help wondering what went on in his master's head, given the ideas he came up with, but Stan knew he would never dare to ask – it was more than his life was worth.
When Saskia and the Doctor got to the Sheldonian Theatre, she found herself gazing in awe at the magnificent Wren building. The main theatre was circular inside and the front part of the building was also circular outside, but the back was rectangular. Saskia tore her gaze away from the gargoyles that topped the wall in front of the building and looked at the Doctor. He was grinning indulgently at her, like he'd just given a child a magnificent treat. Which, from his point view, he had since she was only 30 and he was over 900 years old. She swallowed that thought hastily.
"OK?" he asked softly, seeing a fleeting look of sadness cross her face.
She nodded emphatically. "Perfect."
He patted her hand where it lay on his arm, and led her up the steps into the Theatre's courtyard and then into the Theatre itself. He showed his psychic paper to the man who was checking tickets at the door, and the man immediately summoned a colleague. The second man led them to their reserved seats in the centre of the Lower Gallery. Stone columns supported both the Lower and Upper Galleries, but the centre of the round theatre was free of pillars, making it possible for the largest number of the thousand-strong audience to see the orchestra as it performed. A brass railing ran across the front of the two galleries, ensuring that no one could fall to the floor below. Saskia was gazing around in appreciation of the magnificence and age of their surroundings when she glanced up, then gasped. "Doctor," she said in a hushed voice.
The Doctor followed her gaze and saw the painted ceiling above them. "Very nice," he murmured. "Not quite the Sistine Chapel, but still very nice."
Just as Saskia was wishing they had seats in the Upper Gallery so that she could have a closer view of the ceiling, a voice spoke in an agitated tone behind them.
"Excuse me. Am I right in thinking you are Doctor John Smith?"
Saskia looked round, wondering who the voice might be addressing, and saw a man looking at the Doctor.
"That's me," he answered cheerfully, his Scottish lilt suddenly very noticeable.
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but I wondered if you would come backstage with me. Our cellist has been taken ill and I was told you were a doctor and could assist."
Saskia suppressed a moan as the Doctor immediately got to his feet. She slipped her hand into his and spoke to him telepathically. I'm coming too, she said.
OK. He sensed there was no point in urging Saskia to stay and enjoy the music, particularly when she was so interested in hearing the cellist perform.
They made their way along the gallery to the nearest door, apologising to the other concert goers. The man led them down the narrow spiral staircase, then into the backstage area of the Theatre. Saskia felt concerned as she sensed a great deal of anxiety, and even fear, from the man who was guiding them. Dosed up on Dr Karg's drugs, she couldn't clearly read the man's thoughts, but she got enough to know that something was going on. She fervently hoped it wasn't monsters.
The Doctor looked at the menu, then at Saskia, who was looking slightly dazed. "What do you fancy to eat?" he asked.
Saskia focused her attention on the menu. "I have no idea," she said, closing it after a few moments. "You choose." She looked around the restaurant, taking in the display of the coats of arms of the various colleges that made up the University of Oxford, the plush red velvet curtains, the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, and found herself wondering if she would wake up in a minute and find she was just dreaming all this. It certainly beats Rose's chips after the end of the world! she thought, trying not to feel smug.
The Doctor's voice broke in on her thoughts. "So, what can you tell me about the music we're going to hear?"
Saskia explained that Elgar had been considered one of England's finest composers and he had written the Cello Concerto in 1919, not long after the end of the First World War of Earth's twentieth century. She explained it was intended to be a lament for the world that had been lost during the War that had changed Europe forever.
"Have you heard it played live before?" the Doctor asked after she had finished explaining its structure and themes.
"No. I've got a couple of recordings of it, one of which I brought with me from home, but I've never heard it played live."
"Then the concert will be a treat," the Doctor said, looking pleased.
"Oh yes," Saskia agreed, her green eyes shining with excitement.
They finished their meal soon afterwards and Saskia was surprised to discover an hour had passed. "How are we getting to the Theatre?" she asked as they went outside.
"Walking, it's not far from here."
"OK."
The Doctor offered her his arm again, and she took it, secretly amused that he was being so gentlemanly. She wondered if it was because he was anticipating monsters later and wanted to make the most of the evening before they arrived. Then she decided that she wouldn't ask him as she didn't want to embarrass him when the evening had been perfect so far.
Stan let himself into the large ground floor room at the back of the house. It had been a dining room once upon a time, but now it was home to two musicians, the guests of his master. The two men looked up from tuning their instruments. The violinist was in his early twenties, but looked younger. The clarinettist was in his late twenties, but looked older because of the beard he wore.
"Dinner," Stan said, setting down the tray on the table.
"Thanks."
"Thank you."
They laid aside their instruments and crossed to the table.
"How's it going?" Stan asked them.
"Fine. We'll be ready for the concert," answered the clarinettist.
"Good. My master will be delighted to hear that." He let himself back out of the room, locking the door behind him, and went upstairs to his master's room. He knocked on the door and a low voice answered.
"Come in."
Stan went in. As usual the room was dimly lit, the curtains pulled tight across the windows that overlooked the garden, and only a low power bulb in the lamp on the desk. Stan wondered, not for the first time, how his master could see to work, but he knew better than to ask.
"Sir."
His master looked up from his desk. He was a tall man with short steel grey hair, dressed in a black pinstripe suit, a dark tie and a crisp white shirt with shining cufflinks. He met Stan's gaze over a pair of gold framed, half moon reading glasses. He wore shiny black leather shoes with pointed toes, and a pale beige silk scarf was flung negligently around his neck and shoulders.
"Stanley?" His voice rasped as if he rarely spoke and his skin was pale from lack of natural light.
"Ned's taken the cellist in to town," Stan said, standing stiffly at attention.
"And has our third guest awoken yet?"
"No sir."
"Inform me the moment she does."
"Sir." Stan nodded and turned away, letting himself out of the room quietly. Sometimes he couldn't help wondering what went on in his master's head, given the ideas he came up with, but Stan knew he would never dare to ask – it was more than his life was worth.
When Saskia and the Doctor got to the Sheldonian Theatre, she found herself gazing in awe at the magnificent Wren building. The main theatre was circular inside and the front part of the building was also circular outside, but the back was rectangular. Saskia tore her gaze away from the gargoyles that topped the wall in front of the building and looked at the Doctor. He was grinning indulgently at her, like he'd just given a child a magnificent treat. Which, from his point view, he had since she was only 30 and he was over 900 years old. She swallowed that thought hastily.
"OK?" he asked softly, seeing a fleeting look of sadness cross her face.
She nodded emphatically. "Perfect."
He patted her hand where it lay on his arm, and led her up the steps into the Theatre's courtyard and then into the Theatre itself. He showed his psychic paper to the man who was checking tickets at the door, and the man immediately summoned a colleague. The second man led them to their reserved seats in the centre of the Lower Gallery. Stone columns supported both the Lower and Upper Galleries, but the centre of the round theatre was free of pillars, making it possible for the largest number of the thousand-strong audience to see the orchestra as it performed. A brass railing ran across the front of the two galleries, ensuring that no one could fall to the floor below. Saskia was gazing around in appreciation of the magnificence and age of their surroundings when she glanced up, then gasped. "Doctor," she said in a hushed voice.
The Doctor followed her gaze and saw the painted ceiling above them. "Very nice," he murmured. "Not quite the Sistine Chapel, but still very nice."
Just as Saskia was wishing they had seats in the Upper Gallery so that she could have a closer view of the ceiling, a voice spoke in an agitated tone behind them.
"Excuse me. Am I right in thinking you are Doctor John Smith?"
Saskia looked round, wondering who the voice might be addressing, and saw a man looking at the Doctor.
"That's me," he answered cheerfully, his Scottish lilt suddenly very noticeable.
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but I wondered if you would come backstage with me. Our cellist has been taken ill and I was told you were a doctor and could assist."
Saskia suppressed a moan as the Doctor immediately got to his feet. She slipped her hand into his and spoke to him telepathically. I'm coming too, she said.
OK. He sensed there was no point in urging Saskia to stay and enjoy the music, particularly when she was so interested in hearing the cellist perform.
They made their way along the gallery to the nearest door, apologising to the other concert goers. The man led them down the narrow spiral staircase, then into the backstage area of the Theatre. Saskia felt concerned as she sensed a great deal of anxiety, and even fear, from the man who was guiding them. Dosed up on Dr Karg's drugs, she couldn't clearly read the man's thoughts, but she got enough to know that something was going on. She fervently hoped it wasn't monsters.
Oxford Ostinato - Chapter 1 Part 1
Kevin watched the strangers disappear across the grass with little curiosity. He wasn't paid to be curious, just observant. He turned back towards the house that was hidden amongst the trees, looking forward to his shift ending and a break from the boredom of being stuck out in the Oxfordshire countryside. When he'd accepted this job in London the previous week, he'd thought it would be easy money, and so far it was, but he hadn't anticipated the sheer boredom of his 'babysitting' role. He hoped it would all be over soon so that he could take his earnings and go away for a week or two. Maybe he'd go to Manchester or Glasgow. Somewhere lively with lots of people was definitely necessary.
Once back at the TARDIS, the Doctor asked Saskia to put their picnic things away whilst he looked to see what concerts were being performed in or near the city.
"I promised you a treat," he said, "and you shall have it. Nothing is going to stop us."
Saskia rolled her eyes. "Well you've totally jinxed us now," she said. "I thought you knew better than that!"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh ye of little faith," he said, pretending to be hurt, but secretly wondering if she was right. He suddenly remembered chastising Ida for saying 'No turning back' when they were investigating the interior of the planet that orbited a black hole. He saw that Saskia was looking at him expectantly and sighed. "OK. I shouldn't have said that. If we get monsters instead of music, I promise I'll make it up to you as it'll be my fault entirely."
Saskia grinned at him. "Deal." She went off to the kitchen with the picnic hamper.
The Doctor watched her go, relieved by her smile. He'd been worried that his big speech just now might have soured their friendship since it was still so new. He pulled off his overcoat, draping it over the back of the bench, then pulled out his dark framed glasses and put them on. He used the TARDIS to check local events listings in an effort to find a concert that Saskia would enjoy.
Kevin walked through the evergreen trees that surrounded his current, and very temporary he hoped, home and let himself into the kitchen through the back door.
"All clear?" asked the kitchen's other occupant, a short, stocky man in his forties with a shaven head and a scar across his right cheek.
"Yeah. There was a couple across the river, had a picnic, but they've buggered off again now," answered Kevin.
"Did they see you?"
Kevin looked disgusted. "Course not! I ain't no amateur, you know! They 'ad no clue I was there."
"All right, keep your hair on." Stan offered him a mug of black tea.
"Ta." Kevin took the mug and sat down heavily at the table. " 'Ow much longer d'you reckon we'll be 'ere?" he asked, after drinking noisily.
"Week maybe," Stan answered, scratching his cheek.
"A week? Geez I 'ope not!" Kevin scowled. "It's so bloody borin'!"
"Well find something to do with yourself," Stan advised.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Read a book or something." Stan scowled at him, annoyance reddening his face so that the scar stood out lividly. "You can read?"
"Cheeky bastid!" Kevin exclaimed. "Course I can read. I went to school an' all!"
"Well then." Stan stood up. "I'd better go and feed our guests," he said and picked up a covered tray from the table.
"See ya later then," Kevin said. He finished his tea, then let himself out of the house again and set off around it, then down the long, tree-lined drive to the distant gate.
He'd go to the pub and have a couple of pints and some food before he headed into town for some fun.
When Saskia walked into the Control Room after disposing of their picnic things, she found the Doctor sitting on the bench, with his feet up on the console. He was munching on a banana.
"Hello," he said with a big grin. "I've found three concerts for you. It's your decision as to which one we go to."
Saskia sat down beside him. "Go on then."
"The Oxford Chamber Orchestra are doing the Overture to Mozart's Magic Flute, Sibelius' En Saga and Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6. Or Oxford Philomusica are doing Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2 and Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. Finally, the City of Oxford Orchestra are doing Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte, Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony and Elgar's Cello Concerto."
Saskia frowned. "They're all doing a concert tonight? Surely that's bad planning?"
"Actually no," the Doctor answered. "The concerts are on different nights this week, but – " he gestured around the Control Room " – Time Machine."
Saskia raised an eyebrow but didn't say what she was thinking. She had no desire to insult either the TARDIS or the Doctor by questioning their ability to arrive back in Oxford on the right date. "Well, I like the sound of the concert featuring Elgar and Beethoven," she said.
"Fantastic!" The Doctor beamed at her. "That one's actually on tonight. Go and get your glad rags on, and we'll go for a meal first."
"Glad rags?" Saskia asked quizzically.
The Doctor nodded. "We're going to do this properly, so we'll dress up."
Saskia shrugged. "OK. I'll go and see what clothes I brought with me that qualify as 'glad rags'."
"If you haven't got anything suitable, there's bound to be something in the TARDIS wardrobe," he told her.
Saskia went to her room, wondering what the Doctor would wear. She'd only ever seen him wearing his blue pinstripe suit so far, with a variety of different coloured shirts and ties. Half an hour later she walked into the Control Room again to find the Doctor waiting for her. He was wearing a white tuxedo with a dark blue bow tie and looked positively dashing. He'd even tidied his hair, although Saskia couldn't help wondering how long it would stay tidy, giving his habit of ruffling it. She met his eyes and was amused to see he looked quite stunned at her own appearance. She couldn't resist doing a little twirl on the spot, so that her dark blue evening dress, the colour of which matched his bow tie she was pleased to note, swirled around her.
"Wow! You look – wow!" the Doctor said, still looking stunned.
"Thank you, kind sir."
He suddenly executed a flawless bow, then offered her his arm. "Would my lady care to accompany me?" he asked, grinning.
She grinned back and made a half curtsey before accepting his arm. They went back outside and Saskia suddenly thought to ask "Where is this concert?"
"In town, at the Sheldonian Theatre," the Doctor answered.
"And where are we going to eat?"
"I've reserved a table at the Randolph Hotel's restaurant," he said.
"I trust we're not walking there?" Saskia asked.
"We are not. I've also arranged for a car to pick us up."
Saskia found that she was impressed that he seemed to have thought of everything. She wondered if he was going out of his way to make it a pleasant evening just in case they did get monsters. Then she saw the long white limo that was waiting for them on the road, and found herself staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
The Doctor opened the back door with a flourish. "After you my lady."
Saskia pulled herself together and got into the car. "Have you gone entirely mad?" she asked the Doctor.
"No I don't think so," he answered, a big goofy grin on his face showing his delight at the surprise he'd given her. "Don't you like your surprise?"
"I do, but I'm completely astonished. If we do get monsters, I may just forgive you anyway," she answered, grinning back at him.
"I hope we don't get any monsters," he said seriously.
"Me too!"
Once back at the TARDIS, the Doctor asked Saskia to put their picnic things away whilst he looked to see what concerts were being performed in or near the city.
"I promised you a treat," he said, "and you shall have it. Nothing is going to stop us."
Saskia rolled her eyes. "Well you've totally jinxed us now," she said. "I thought you knew better than that!"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh ye of little faith," he said, pretending to be hurt, but secretly wondering if she was right. He suddenly remembered chastising Ida for saying 'No turning back' when they were investigating the interior of the planet that orbited a black hole. He saw that Saskia was looking at him expectantly and sighed. "OK. I shouldn't have said that. If we get monsters instead of music, I promise I'll make it up to you as it'll be my fault entirely."
Saskia grinned at him. "Deal." She went off to the kitchen with the picnic hamper.
The Doctor watched her go, relieved by her smile. He'd been worried that his big speech just now might have soured their friendship since it was still so new. He pulled off his overcoat, draping it over the back of the bench, then pulled out his dark framed glasses and put them on. He used the TARDIS to check local events listings in an effort to find a concert that Saskia would enjoy.
Kevin walked through the evergreen trees that surrounded his current, and very temporary he hoped, home and let himself into the kitchen through the back door.
"All clear?" asked the kitchen's other occupant, a short, stocky man in his forties with a shaven head and a scar across his right cheek.
"Yeah. There was a couple across the river, had a picnic, but they've buggered off again now," answered Kevin.
"Did they see you?"
Kevin looked disgusted. "Course not! I ain't no amateur, you know! They 'ad no clue I was there."
"All right, keep your hair on." Stan offered him a mug of black tea.
"Ta." Kevin took the mug and sat down heavily at the table. " 'Ow much longer d'you reckon we'll be 'ere?" he asked, after drinking noisily.
"Week maybe," Stan answered, scratching his cheek.
"A week? Geez I 'ope not!" Kevin scowled. "It's so bloody borin'!"
"Well find something to do with yourself," Stan advised.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Read a book or something." Stan scowled at him, annoyance reddening his face so that the scar stood out lividly. "You can read?"
"Cheeky bastid!" Kevin exclaimed. "Course I can read. I went to school an' all!"
"Well then." Stan stood up. "I'd better go and feed our guests," he said and picked up a covered tray from the table.
"See ya later then," Kevin said. He finished his tea, then let himself out of the house again and set off around it, then down the long, tree-lined drive to the distant gate.
He'd go to the pub and have a couple of pints and some food before he headed into town for some fun.
When Saskia walked into the Control Room after disposing of their picnic things, she found the Doctor sitting on the bench, with his feet up on the console. He was munching on a banana.
"Hello," he said with a big grin. "I've found three concerts for you. It's your decision as to which one we go to."
Saskia sat down beside him. "Go on then."
"The Oxford Chamber Orchestra are doing the Overture to Mozart's Magic Flute, Sibelius' En Saga and Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6. Or Oxford Philomusica are doing Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2 and Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. Finally, the City of Oxford Orchestra are doing Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte, Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony and Elgar's Cello Concerto."
Saskia frowned. "They're all doing a concert tonight? Surely that's bad planning?"
"Actually no," the Doctor answered. "The concerts are on different nights this week, but – " he gestured around the Control Room " – Time Machine."
Saskia raised an eyebrow but didn't say what she was thinking. She had no desire to insult either the TARDIS or the Doctor by questioning their ability to arrive back in Oxford on the right date. "Well, I like the sound of the concert featuring Elgar and Beethoven," she said.
"Fantastic!" The Doctor beamed at her. "That one's actually on tonight. Go and get your glad rags on, and we'll go for a meal first."
"Glad rags?" Saskia asked quizzically.
The Doctor nodded. "We're going to do this properly, so we'll dress up."
Saskia shrugged. "OK. I'll go and see what clothes I brought with me that qualify as 'glad rags'."
"If you haven't got anything suitable, there's bound to be something in the TARDIS wardrobe," he told her.
Saskia went to her room, wondering what the Doctor would wear. She'd only ever seen him wearing his blue pinstripe suit so far, with a variety of different coloured shirts and ties. Half an hour later she walked into the Control Room again to find the Doctor waiting for her. He was wearing a white tuxedo with a dark blue bow tie and looked positively dashing. He'd even tidied his hair, although Saskia couldn't help wondering how long it would stay tidy, giving his habit of ruffling it. She met his eyes and was amused to see he looked quite stunned at her own appearance. She couldn't resist doing a little twirl on the spot, so that her dark blue evening dress, the colour of which matched his bow tie she was pleased to note, swirled around her.
"Wow! You look – wow!" the Doctor said, still looking stunned.
"Thank you, kind sir."
He suddenly executed a flawless bow, then offered her his arm. "Would my lady care to accompany me?" he asked, grinning.
She grinned back and made a half curtsey before accepting his arm. They went back outside and Saskia suddenly thought to ask "Where is this concert?"
"In town, at the Sheldonian Theatre," the Doctor answered.
"And where are we going to eat?"
"I've reserved a table at the Randolph Hotel's restaurant," he said.
"I trust we're not walking there?" Saskia asked.
"We are not. I've also arranged for a car to pick us up."
Saskia found that she was impressed that he seemed to have thought of everything. She wondered if he was going out of his way to make it a pleasant evening just in case they did get monsters. Then she saw the long white limo that was waiting for them on the road, and found herself staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
The Doctor opened the back door with a flourish. "After you my lady."
Saskia pulled herself together and got into the car. "Have you gone entirely mad?" she asked the Doctor.
"No I don't think so," he answered, a big goofy grin on his face showing his delight at the surprise he'd given her. "Don't you like your surprise?"
"I do, but I'm completely astonished. If we do get monsters, I may just forgive you anyway," she answered, grinning back at him.
"I hope we don't get any monsters," he said seriously.
"Me too!"
Oxford Ostinato - Prologue Part 2
"Besides, I'd be dishonest if I didn't admit that having a telepathic Companion has the potential to be very useful."
"Even if I frighten you?" Saskia asked.
"Yes." He gave her a steady look. "I've done some pretty ruthless things myself, in the past. Things that I later wished I had done differently, but what's done is done. Despite the fact I have a time machine, I can't go back and change things, any more than you can."
"Do you wish we could?" Saskia asked.
"Could what?"
"Go back and change what I did?" She stared down at the glass in her hand.
The Doctor reached out and took the glass from her, setting it down carefully. Then he took both her hands in his own. "Saskia, I have to give you an honest answer, and the honest answer is that I wish you'd told me what you were planning to do. I'd have looked for a different way to use the psychic projection you created. Something that would have allowed us to get the Grimoire to safety before we handed Jackson and his men over to the Council, for them to be dealt with according to your people's system of justice." He looked thoughtfully at Saskia's downcast face. "Let's eat, then we'll talk," he suggested.
She nodded agreement and they ate quietly. The Doctor slightly regretted that their conversation had turned so serious and spoilt the mood he'd been aiming for. He'd wanted to give Saskia a treat to make up for the past few days. But he was also aware that they hadn't really discussed what she had done to Jackson, nor why she had done it, and he knew it was something they needed to talk about, and sooner was better than later.
The Doctor repacked their picnic hamper, then stretched out on his back, his head resting on his coat, his eyes closed. Saskia wondered if he was planning to take a nap, but then he spoke.
"Can you show me, or tell me, what you were thinking and feeling that led you to create the psychic projection, and what followed on from that?"
"Yes," Saskia answered, then stretched out beside the Doctor. She took his left hand in her right one, closed her eyes and led him through her memories. He didn't speak, just watched and listened as Saskia's memories unfolded. Afterwards he was silent for several minutes, his thoughts opaque to Saskia, partly because she had been blocking his thoughts in order to show him her memories, but also because he had been shielding his thoughts as well.
"I didn't realise you knew Jeff that well," he said, finally breaking the silence.
"I worked with him a few times, going through old documents," Saskia answered. "We weren't as close as I was to Luca, but I counted Jeff a friend, so I was angry at what Jackson's thugs did to him."
"And to me," the Doctor said neutrally.
"Yes!" Saskia's tone was more forceful.
"I've been knocked about before," he said.
"I know! I was there when the Devron attacked you," she answered, her voice sharp with annoyance now. She sat up abruptly.
The Doctor sat up too, folding his legs up until he was sitting cross-legged. "Yes, and you rescued my mind from the Devron at considerable risk to you own, for which I am very grateful. But my point was that if I'm very badly injured, I can regenerate. You mustn't let concern for me dictate a course of action to you, especially if that action is going to lead you to go against your nature. You told me a few days ago, before we came to Earth the first time, that violence amongst the Empathia is rare. Yet in the last few days you've been responsible for the deaths of four men, not to mention knocking out Luca."
Saskia opening her mouth to retort, but the Doctor held up his hands.
"I know. Luca got off rather lightly, given the fact that he sent Jackson's thugs after Jeff. I also know that your mind has been infected with the rage of the Devron from its attempts to take the TARDIS from us. The last few days have been very intense and you've had to deal with a lot. Not all of what you've done is your fault. But your mental powers have become immensely strong and they can be dangerous to you, and to those around you. I'm not condemning you for what you did to Jackson and his men, but I am asking you to talk to me, another time. Using the psychic projection was a genius idea, but tell me what you're planning next time. Don't keep me in the dark, please, but trust me and I will trust you."
Saskia stared blindly at the patterned picnic rug. She didn't know what to say. She had felt guilty about what she had done to Jackson and his men almost as soon as she had done it. She knew the Doctor's comments were justified, but she felt hurt at the thought that he might not trust her. She looked up and met the Doctor's dark eyes. "Do you want me to go home?" she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"No. I told you, not very many hours ago, that I would rather travel with you than almost anyone else. I meant that. All I want you to do is talk to me and trust me with your powers. Will you promise me that?"
She nodded.
"Thank you." He stood up, then offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "This wasn't quite the treat I planned," he said ruefully. "Let's see if I can make it up to you."
She nodded again and the Doctor saw she was close to tears. "Come here," he said, and pulled her into a hug. He held her for some time, rubbing her back between her shoulder blades. He felt rather than heard her sobs, and when they had subsided, he pulled away from her a little, his hands on her shoulders. "Come on, let's go back to the TARDIS for a bit." He picked up and refolded the picnic rug before shrugging himself into his suit jacket. He retrieved his coat and tie, shoving the latter into his jacket pocket. Then he picked up the picnic rug and hamper. They headed back to the TARDIS, unaware that they were being watched from the far bank of the river.
"Even if I frighten you?" Saskia asked.
"Yes." He gave her a steady look. "I've done some pretty ruthless things myself, in the past. Things that I later wished I had done differently, but what's done is done. Despite the fact I have a time machine, I can't go back and change things, any more than you can."
"Do you wish we could?" Saskia asked.
"Could what?"
"Go back and change what I did?" She stared down at the glass in her hand.
The Doctor reached out and took the glass from her, setting it down carefully. Then he took both her hands in his own. "Saskia, I have to give you an honest answer, and the honest answer is that I wish you'd told me what you were planning to do. I'd have looked for a different way to use the psychic projection you created. Something that would have allowed us to get the Grimoire to safety before we handed Jackson and his men over to the Council, for them to be dealt with according to your people's system of justice." He looked thoughtfully at Saskia's downcast face. "Let's eat, then we'll talk," he suggested.
She nodded agreement and they ate quietly. The Doctor slightly regretted that their conversation had turned so serious and spoilt the mood he'd been aiming for. He'd wanted to give Saskia a treat to make up for the past few days. But he was also aware that they hadn't really discussed what she had done to Jackson, nor why she had done it, and he knew it was something they needed to talk about, and sooner was better than later.
The Doctor repacked their picnic hamper, then stretched out on his back, his head resting on his coat, his eyes closed. Saskia wondered if he was planning to take a nap, but then he spoke.
"Can you show me, or tell me, what you were thinking and feeling that led you to create the psychic projection, and what followed on from that?"
"Yes," Saskia answered, then stretched out beside the Doctor. She took his left hand in her right one, closed her eyes and led him through her memories. He didn't speak, just watched and listened as Saskia's memories unfolded. Afterwards he was silent for several minutes, his thoughts opaque to Saskia, partly because she had been blocking his thoughts in order to show him her memories, but also because he had been shielding his thoughts as well.
"I didn't realise you knew Jeff that well," he said, finally breaking the silence.
"I worked with him a few times, going through old documents," Saskia answered. "We weren't as close as I was to Luca, but I counted Jeff a friend, so I was angry at what Jackson's thugs did to him."
"And to me," the Doctor said neutrally.
"Yes!" Saskia's tone was more forceful.
"I've been knocked about before," he said.
"I know! I was there when the Devron attacked you," she answered, her voice sharp with annoyance now. She sat up abruptly.
The Doctor sat up too, folding his legs up until he was sitting cross-legged. "Yes, and you rescued my mind from the Devron at considerable risk to you own, for which I am very grateful. But my point was that if I'm very badly injured, I can regenerate. You mustn't let concern for me dictate a course of action to you, especially if that action is going to lead you to go against your nature. You told me a few days ago, before we came to Earth the first time, that violence amongst the Empathia is rare. Yet in the last few days you've been responsible for the deaths of four men, not to mention knocking out Luca."
Saskia opening her mouth to retort, but the Doctor held up his hands.
"I know. Luca got off rather lightly, given the fact that he sent Jackson's thugs after Jeff. I also know that your mind has been infected with the rage of the Devron from its attempts to take the TARDIS from us. The last few days have been very intense and you've had to deal with a lot. Not all of what you've done is your fault. But your mental powers have become immensely strong and they can be dangerous to you, and to those around you. I'm not condemning you for what you did to Jackson and his men, but I am asking you to talk to me, another time. Using the psychic projection was a genius idea, but tell me what you're planning next time. Don't keep me in the dark, please, but trust me and I will trust you."
Saskia stared blindly at the patterned picnic rug. She didn't know what to say. She had felt guilty about what she had done to Jackson and his men almost as soon as she had done it. She knew the Doctor's comments were justified, but she felt hurt at the thought that he might not trust her. She looked up and met the Doctor's dark eyes. "Do you want me to go home?" she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"No. I told you, not very many hours ago, that I would rather travel with you than almost anyone else. I meant that. All I want you to do is talk to me and trust me with your powers. Will you promise me that?"
She nodded.
"Thank you." He stood up, then offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "This wasn't quite the treat I planned," he said ruefully. "Let's see if I can make it up to you."
She nodded again and the Doctor saw she was close to tears. "Come here," he said, and pulled her into a hug. He held her for some time, rubbing her back between her shoulder blades. He felt rather than heard her sobs, and when they had subsided, he pulled away from her a little, his hands on her shoulders. "Come on, let's go back to the TARDIS for a bit." He picked up and refolded the picnic rug before shrugging himself into his suit jacket. He retrieved his coat and tie, shoving the latter into his jacket pocket. Then he picked up the picnic rug and hamper. They headed back to the TARDIS, unaware that they were being watched from the far bank of the river.
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