Fic: Clocksleepers (1/2)
Title: Clocksleepers (1/2)
Author: shinyopals
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Seven pm, Saturday nights. BBC One. A new smash-hit sci-fi drama has half the world on the edge of their seats every week. The thrilling adventures of an enigmatic and quirky hero are so exciting that nobody can look away. What could possibly be wrong with that?
Author's notes: Thanks to ginamak for beta reading and various others for encouragement!
Episode 18 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Game is Afoot last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
“What?”
“Shh!” hissed Jackie, not even sparing him a glance.
The Doctor turned back to Rose to demand she tell him what this show was. From the look on his wife’s face, though, she didn’t know either. She was staring between the three members of her family with obvious fear on her features. Not wanting to miss a show was one thing, but it was three in the afternoon and they had been busy at Torchwood.
Busy, in fact, with the potential end of the universes. Admittedly this happened rather more often than might be hoped, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that should be interrupted for afternoon television.
The drumming beat of the opening credits rose in a crescendo as orange lightning danced across the screen to suddenly reveal, in large dramatic letters, “CLOCKSLEEPERS”. Jackie, Pete and Tony stared in rapt attention at this, as though even missing a second of the opening credits would be appalling.
Rose seemed to recover herself and reached around them to pick up the TV scheduling magazine. Her hand trembled slightly as she scanned down the page. The Doctor moved to stand next to her, hoping to be a comforting presence in the face of this absurdity.
He would be the first to admit he didn’t know Pete as well as Jackie. Whatever part he’d played in getting the two of them together and however well it had worked out, Pete’s role at Torchwood made him far too busy for the Doctor to have anything approaching a friendship with him. All the same, his father-in-law had never been anything other than completely professional (sometimes excruciatingly so). Rushing home when all of Torchwood’s instruments were screaming that Armageddon was just a few scant hours away - even if the situation had happened before - was not what the Doctor had expected. He wasn’t sure Pete would even have run back to protect his family, let alone to sit down and watch TV. And while Jackie’s priorities seemed rather strange a lot of the time, she seemed to care more about the universe than the telly these days. Normally, anyway.
Something had to be wrong.
“Here it is,” said Rose, earning herself a frantic shushing from Pete. She bit her lip but lowered her voice as she continued. “Clocksleepers - repeat. See yesterday at six pm.” She flicked back the page. “And here all it says is it’s the penultimate episode of series one of a show about two time travellers.”
The Doctor blinked incredulously. “The entire of Torchwood just ran home for a re-run?”
“No, but time travel? Isn’t that a bit-?”
“Shush!” demanded Tony impatiently, looking so genuinely distressed that both the Doctor and Rose fell silent.
Rose pointed at the schedule again. The Doctor peered over her shoulder to read the rest. The finale was due to air that night at seven pm . If London shut down for a rerun, what on Earth would happen for a series finale?
On the screen a rather unattractive bloke - dressed in a stupid-looking hodge-podge assortment of clothes that seemed to indicate the wardrobe department was staffed by a five year old - was trying to save a shrieking blonde woman from peril. Peril of the form of a primitive looking tribe that appeared to be every offensive stereotype of primitive looking tribes, in fact. Their aim appeared to be to both marry her and eat her. The computer graphics were pretty appalling too.
“This is-“
“Will you shut up?”
The Doctor bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything further, since the Tylers were too far gone to get a sensible reaction. He continued to watch the show in agitated silence, needing to know what the something was that had everyone’s attention.
That something was what had made Pete (and all of Torchwood) run home in the middle of the afternoon. It had made Jackie sit silently without turning to chat. It had made Tony sit quietly on the floor without fidgeting or running off and without any toys in reach. This was all very wrong.
He could feel the hypnotic effect just slightly, even after only a few moments. There was a relaxing warm feeling, like waves washing against the sand, trying to invade his brain and convince him that everything was all right. The show wanted him to believe it was right and good to sit and watch and stay silent. When Isabelle - the shrieking blonde - was rescued from her peril, the show was telling him to clap with joy and relief that she was safe. He was supposed to be so glad that she was all right.
She was supposed to be beautiful, too. Beautiful and helpless and in need of the hero’s brilliant and daring rescue. The show wanted him to be relieved and happy at them being reunited and the passionate words exchanged.
When, during the frantic chase scene that followed, Isabelle tripped and fell, he could feel his treacherous brain trying to panic. What if she died? He wanted to long for the hero to rescue her. He wanted them to be together...
The Doctor shook his head and pinched his nose. It was good. Subtle enough that no human would notice, but strong. A forceful hook after only a few moments and the continued reassurance throughout.
Watch the show.
Love it.
Care.
The Doctor could fight it off, of course. His mental powers were somewhat reduced, but he was still Time Lord enough, thank you very much. No wonder, though, that what seemed like all of London had run home for this. Maybe even the entire country had.
He needed to work out where this was coming from.
But maybe just a few more minutes...
Captain thingummy (the Doctor hadn’t noticed his name) paused half way though his rescue of Isabelle - while she was still dangling from a cliff face, no less - to give a speech to the primitive tribe about ‘honour’ and ‘bravery’ and how they should go back to their homes and be better people. The show wanted him to think it was brilliant and inspirational and a lesson for everyone on how to behave. Instead it was merely irritating.
Snorting at the stupidity of pausing mid-rescue to deliver a speech like that, and the absurdly patronising way Captain whatever-his-name-was did so, the Doctor forced himself to pry his eyes from the screen and turn to Rose.
Rose.
Rose who was human.
Rose who did not have the defences he did, even if she had been aware something was wrong.
Rose who was now staring at the screen, lips slightly parted and eyes dilated. She was still holding the TV magazine limply in one hand.
He felt a thrum of fear in his heart and reached out to take her hand. She took it readily enough, the corner of her lips turning up in acknowledgement of his presence. She was still there, then. Not blacked out or in any sort of trance. All the same, she did not look away from the screen.
“Rose-“
“Shh!” she hissed at him, not turning away from the show.
Gently he tugged her hand in an attempt to lead her out of the room, but she was fixed on the spot like a statue.
For a second, he hesitated. A sudden break in this sort of trance might cause confusion and anger and would not break the permanent hypnotic link, which was what had made the streets empty for the show. That, and Jackie would kill him if he broke the TV again. Another glance at Rose’s vacant eyes made the decision for him. Without the show, the Tylers had been normal - well, normal for them - so he would get that far at least. And Rose was a fighter: she would be able to shake it off.
He pulled the sonic out of his pocket and aimed it at the TV.
There was a crackle and a spark of electricity. The picture fizzed and died and a faint smell of burning plastic filled the air.
At once, the Tylers were animated again. Jackie, Pete and Tony all jumped to their feet and Rose spun towards the Doctor with wild eyes.
“What have you-? There’s a TV upstairs!”
The Doctor was thrown aside as Jackie (carrying Tony) and Pete barrelled past him and out the door. Rose made to follow but the Doctor kept his hold on her hand.
“What are you-? Let me go!” she ordered sharply. He winced inwardly, although managed to keep his face steady. Mind control or not, using his own strength against her was never something he enjoyed. He shouldn’t have to do this.
“There’s some sort of hypnosis-“ he began.
“Well tell me after the show!”
“Rose!” he snapped.
Something in his face or voice made her hesitate. He could still feel her pulling away from him, but he’d bought himself a few seconds.
“Clocksleepers is hypnotic,” he said slowly, holding her gaze as steadily as he could and trying not to sound like he was pleading. “The show’s pulled you right in. It’s all my fault. Oh, I’m sorry. But think for a minute. Just think! You can, break it. If anyone can, you can. Half an hour ago, we were at Torchwood-“
“But we came back to watch Clocksleepers,” she argued, almost as though she hadn’t heard him. All the same, he could see a war between confusion and annoyance on her face.
“You’d never heard of the show before today,” he countered. “When did we last watch TV on the TARDIS? Come on, Rose.”
“We don’t watch telly,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “I know we don’t. Don’t be daft.” He waited for a moment, seeing the facts he’d forced her to remember collide with what the show wanted her to think and feel.
Her hand moved to her face, letting go of his in the process. She screwed her eyes shut, looking pained.
“Half an hour ago, I hadn’t heard of this show,” she said doubtfully.
“Yes, Rose, yes! You know it’s true! You know you’ve never seen it! Come on, fight!” Of course Rose could fight it: she always could. She was strong enough. She had to be.
“Oh, my head,” she said suddenly, dropping the magazine and rubbing her temples. Before he could do anything, she looked back up at him sharply. “We need to get upstairs.”
“But- Rose-“
“Cut the power to the house,” she interrupted through gritted teeth. “Fuses in the cellar. Tell my family you’ll fix it and meet me in Tony’s room.”
He felt himself grin. Rose was winning! “Aye aye, Captain!” he replied. She sent him a rough looking smile in return and hurried out of the room.
Somewhat relieved, although still worried for Rose and the rest of his family, the Doctor let himself into the cellar and cut through the main cable leading into the fuse box. The room plunged into darkness. The Doctor stumbled back up the stairs with only the light from the sonic. Fortunately, the mid afternoon sun still streamed through the windows above ground. He hurriedly shoved the sonic back in his pocket and headed for the stairs.
On his way up, he ran into three panicked looking Tylers. They were running down, perhaps to check the downstairs set again. It would have been almost comic if it weren’t so sick. The frantic worry in Jackie and Pete’s eyes was bad enough, but Tony was already crying in a quiet, desperate little way.
He felt his heart break a little. He’d done this. Maybe it would have been kinder to leave them in ignorance and let them watch. Bending down, he gently picked up his brother-in-law. He smoothed Tony’s hair and wiped his tears away.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” he lied.
Jackie and Pete seemed to be far enough gone to not even remember he’d been the one to break the television set in the downstairs living room.
He led them down to the kitchen, put the kettle on and got Tony a bowl of ice cream.
“Just relax,” he instructed them, keeping his voice low. “Breathe slowly. Try to empty your minds. I’ll go and sort this out. You just say here and don’t worry about anything.” With the way they were now, trying to get them to relax could only be a good idea. He wasn’t sure he’d be very successful, but he had to try. If he had to try and hypnotise them out of it for their own sanity, a pre-meditative state would speed things up.
Heading upstairs again, he then rushed down the corridor to Tony’s room. Rose was nowhere to be seen; for a second he panicked. Then he heard her calling from Tony’s playroom, attached to his room.
She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and books. Her hair was coming loose and he guessed she’d spend most of the last five minutes worrying it as she kept fighting with herself. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wild and a little vacant.
He was by her side in a second, folding into the small gap on the floor not covered by toys and pulling her into him for a hug. She seemed to relax a little, resting her head against his chest and slowing down her breathing. She still felt tense, though; he rubbed his hands up and down her back, trying to be soothing.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Not your fault,” she said tightly, her voice obscured a little by the fact that she was talking into his jacket.
“You could stop fighting,” he suggested. “Not properly, I mean. But just accept that you’ll like the show and you want to see more.”
A look told him exactly what she thought about that.
He shrugged apologetically. “It’d be easier.”
She snorted. “Hi, I’m Rose Tyler. You seem to be mistaking me for someone else.”
“Someone with a lick of common sense?” he teased. Despite it all, he felt her smile.
“Whoever it is, she sounds dull.”
He smiled. She leaned back a little, which allowed him to kiss her nose. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, gesturing to all the mess on the floor and taking a proper look at it for the first time.
Beside him were a couple of action figures. He picked them up and inspected them through his glasses. It was Isabelle and Captain whatever from Clocksleepers. Somehow, in five-inch-plastic form, they looked even worse than they did on the show. The Captain’s outfit was particularly garish.
“Research?”
“Well I thought if Tony liked the show, he must have the toys,” said Rose. “Spoiled little sod,” she added affectionately.
“Mmm?” said the Doctor mildly, still studying the Captain and Isabelle. They both seemed to be frozen in blank horror.
“Way more toys than I ever had,” Rose pointed out, gesturing around. “And a separate room to put them in. For a six year old.”
The Doctor, whose vague recollections of his own childhood were closer to Tony’s experience than whatever Rose’s had been (children destined for the Academy wanted for nothing, after all), made an agreeing murmur and picked up what appeared to be a spin-off book. He didn’t think Tony could even read this sort of thing yet, although he found the education and development of human children rather confusing, so he could be wrong.
“I’ve got the Authorised Guide to Clocksleepers here,” said Rose, holding up the book in her hand. The two lead characters were posed dramatically on the cover, with a background of bright colours and sparkles. There was also a collection of creatures in various threatening poses behind them.
“The person behind this must be a millionaire,” said the Doctor, flipping to the front pages of his own book. Licensed by the BBC. That was helpful. The copyright was in the name of Cara Bilboh, which was slightly more helpful. “Maybe we should look up the copyright holder,” he suggested. “It could just be a psychic alien with a get rich quick scheme.” He didn’t really think so, but a bit of optimism couldn’t hurt.
“Yeah, but listen to this,” said Rose. “‘The Movridons - an ancient alien race from centuries in the future - want to prevent humanity from ever developing and challenging their superiority. Captain Jed, an enigmatic and handsome stranger, is the only one who can stop them. Together with the love of his life, Isabelle - a girl from twenty-first century London - they must travel through the timeline fighting off Movridons and other aliens at every turn, making sure time follows its course.’”
The Doctor sniffed. “Noble aim,” he conceded. “Ridiculous writing, though. Did you see that awful speech earlier?”
Rose tutted. “But don’t you see it?” she demanded. Seeing his blank look, she flipped forward a couple of pages to read again. “‘Not much is known about the mysterious Captain Jed except that his stated goal is to save humanity. Is he human? Alien? Mortal? Immortal? All that’s know for sure is that he never speaks of his past and he always believes the best of the human race, never killing or hurting anyone if he can help it.’”
“Might be a decent bloke if he weren’t so annoying and patronising,” said the Doctor. “Are you feeling all right, Rose? I think we need to go after this Cara Bilboh and stop worrying about who’s in the show.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Doctor, just listen,” she said, turning yet another page in the book. “‘Isabelle Buchanan was a normal English girl working in a cafe until one day her life was turned upside-down by the arrival of a charismatic and enigmatic Captain Jed. She found her way into his hardened heart and now they travel through time together, saving the world day after day. Isabelle’s innocence and friendliness often help bring the tough and distant Captain back down to Earth.’” She broke off and looked expectantly at the Doctor.
He suspected this was still the hypnosis working and wondered what, exactly, she wanted him to say. Did she need him to confirm that the show was as bad as she was trying to convince herself? Or was she thinking it was good again?
“She had a very grating shriek,” was the first thing that came to mind. Apart from the created desire for Isabelle and Captain Jed to live happily ever after, he’d not had any opinion of her for the few minutes he’d watched.
Rose gave an exasperated snort. “Are you doing this on purpose?” she said. “Oh, of course you’re not. Who am I kidding? Look, think about it stripped of all the flowery stuff about ‘hardened hearts’ and stuff. Isn’t it really close to home? They’re just like us!”
“What?”
“A mysterious time traveller who jumps around saving the world and the normal human woman he falls for? He never kills anyone? Some sort of dark past? She works in a normal, boring job before she meets him? Even some of these aliens look familiar!” She showed him the front cover again and pointed to a green creature in the back that maybe looked a little bit Slitheen. “Their story, this Isabelle is supposed to sort of, you know, help him. It says he gets... you know, a bit more human.”
The Doctor smiled fondly at Rose before he suddenly remembered what this conversation was about. “No, wait... I am nothing like him! He’s a- He- He wears stupid clothes,” he finished. It wasn’t, perhaps, as impressive an argument as he’d hoped to make. All the same, he glared irritably at the gaudy action figure he was still holding. There had been a time, he supposed, but he wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that these days.
“Well Isabelle seems to need rescuing every ten minutes,” said Rose. “I like to think I don’t. But you can’t really deny the similarities.”
He couldn’t, and that was the most annoying thing. He glared balefully at the figure in his hand once again, thanking his lucky stars Rose had never met his sixth incarnation.
“Someone’s got to be doing this on purpose,” said Rose. “All that stuff with that Bob Charila bloke-“ the Doctor pulled closer to her without even thinking about it, remembering what had happened. She squeezed his hand, and smiled tightly. “What did you say the name of the person behind this is?”
“Cara Bilboh,” he replied. “Cara Bilboh and Bob Charila and...” He trailed off as the letters caught his attention. “Two ‘a’s, one ‘i’... o... Cara Bilboh is an anagram of Bob Charila!”
“Or Bob is an anagram of Cara,” said Rose. “Or both are anagrams of something else. That can’t be a coincidence, though, can it?”
The Doctor scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’ve known for quite some time that someone is after us,” he murmured. “But a television show?”
“It’s attention grabbing,” she replied. “Not that the bomb wasn’t. But this... this is something else. The bomb must’ve been to take us out, but Clocksleepers is all part of some bigger plan.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Except our friend Bob - or Cara - knows that we escaped. Pete said there were cameras in that factory, didn’t he?”
Rose winced. His grip on her hand tightened. The thought of someone secretly making videos of them was bad enough, but that they’d nearly killed Rose in the process...
“Gathering data,” she said. “And why go to all the effort of making the show like us? No, you’re right: we weren’t supposed to die there.”
“But how does Cara or Bob know this stuff?” demanded the Doctor, jabbing the book viciously with one finger. “All right, so it doesn’t look like they know that much about us - anyone who’s spent longer than five minutes with us knows you’re not the shrieking sort and my speeches are a lot better than his - but some of the surface similarities are too accurate to be guesswork.”
“If this person can hypnotise people the same way their show does, they’d just have to walk into Torchwood,” said Rose. “There are files. Highly classified files, but they do exist. We’ve been on the radar since that stuff with the Cybermen and some of it’s in the paperwork.” She hesitated. “And if they’re that good, Mum or Dad or Michelle or anyone might’ve told them anything.”
“Hypnosis isn’t harmful, in and of itself,” said the Doctor quietly. “You can’t hypnotise someone to die, remember?” She sent him a small, tight smile at that. “If Bob Charila or Cara Bilboh got information from your family, they’d’ve had to have been careful and not hurt anyone.” He paused. “And 'Bob or Cara' is too much of a mouthful. Bobcar? Charbil? Cabo?”
Rose giggled suddenly and he smiled at her.
“I think we need to go and find... Charbil,” she said, managing to keep a straight face.
“Indeed,” he agreed. They both got to their feet. The Doctor took the authorised guide and pocketed it. If they had time, reading up on exactly what similarities there were wouldn’t hurt.
“After all,” said Rose, rallying herself for action. “We wouldn’t be us if we didn’t jump straight into a trap.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was sort of thinking about that, too.”
“We’ll think of something,” she said firmly.
Before they could go anywhere, though, they had Jackie, Pete and Tony to deal with. The Doctor mixed together a bit of a cocktail using cough medicine and a few other things he found in the cupboard, wishing the TARDIS wasn’t currently at Torchwood as he did so. Still, this would do.
He made Tony drink half a cup before Rose took him up to bed.
“He’ll sleep right through the night,” he assured Jackie and Pete.
“But he’ll miss the finale!” argued Jackie. “He can’t do that!”
“You’re all going to miss the finale,” he said firmly, steering Jackie back into the kitchen chair. He poured a mug of the mixture for both her and Pete and set it down in front of them.
“I’m not bloody going to bed now,” she said, folding her arms. By this time, the penultimate episode had finished airing so she and Pete had returned to coherency, barely seeming to notice they’d spent forty-five minutes going out of their minds. Unfortunately, this meant that Jackie’s argumentativeness had returned in full force. “Besides, I saw you with your beepy sonic screwdriver thingy earlier. You broke the TV. I bet the power’s out because of you, too! And I’ll tell you one thing, mister, you are going to-“
“Jackie,” he interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. Despite this, he was somewhat relieved she was her normal self again. “Yes, I broke the TV. And cut the power. Although the latter was under Rose’s instruction so if you’re looking for someone to- Anyway. Not the point.”
“You can’t just waltz into my house and run around breaking things,” she snapped, glancing at a weary-looking Pete for back up. “I don’t know what you do in your TARDIS, but this is our house.”
“Mum, calm down for a sec,” came Rose’s voice from the door. She moved into the room and sat next to her mother. “Just think back. At the time you didn’t care about that. You watched the Doctor break the TV - on purpose no less - and what did you do? You ran upstairs to see the rest of the show.”
“Well we didn’t want to miss-“
“The second half of a show you’ve already seen,” put in the Doctor. “Since when does the wanton destruction of property coupled with a chance to tell me off rank as less important than that?”
Jackie opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before turning to Pete once again. Pete had looked rather resigned only moments before, but now his eyebrows were knotted in confusion.
“We came home from work,” he said at last, “to watch the telly.” The Doctor grinned. He hadn’t even needed to prompt Pete about how weird that was.
“It’s hypnotic,” he explained. “Very strongly so. I bet half the country ran home from work to do the same.”
“More than that, probably,” said Pete.
“They show it in pubs if you haven’t got a set at home,” said Jackie. “Don’t know why we didn’t think- But anyway. Everyone tries to see it.”
“The BBC sold the rights worldwide,” added Pete. “Everywhere’s gearing up for the finale tonight.” He frowned. “Or this morning, even. It’s playing at the same time everywhere. One of my associates in Tokyo is going to watch it at three in the morning.”
“Everywhere? It’s playing at the same time?” said Rose.
“Seven o’clock on the dot here,” said Jackie. “And after we have to wait weeks every time some new Disney film comes out, it hardly seems fair.” She frowned. “I suppose it is a bit strange, that.”
“Look, whatever’s happening, we’re going to sort it,” said Rose confidently. “Dad, can you get someone to find out where we need to go to locate Cara Bilboh?”
“I’ll ring Constance,” he replied. “She’ll find out. Do you think we should-?”
“My head!” Jackie’s outburst made them all jump. She seemed to be swaying in her seat. Rose grabbed her mother’s hand and the Doctor nudged the mug he’d prepared towards her. Glancing at Pete, he saw that the other man seemed to be a little pained, but mostly just worried about Jackie.
“Drink up, Mum,” Rose urged.
“It’s nothing major,” the Doctor explained quickly. “Your brain is just having a bit of a fight with the intruding influence. Bound to hurt a bit. Come on, Jackie: you’re good in an argument.”
That got him a weak smile, but finally Jackie drank.
“Deep breaths,” he murmured. “Just empty your mind of anything.”
“Any comments about how easy I should find that and I’ll smack you,” she muttered. He grinned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he said. “And you, Pete. Then both of you should go and have a lie down like Tony.”
“All right,” agreed Pete at last. “But don’t you two need some back up?”
“No,” said the Doctor quickly. “Not if everyone in the country’s watching. They won’t come. Or they’ll just leave when it’s time for the show.” He saw Rose’s worried look but he kept his eyes on Pete.
“Fine, fine,” said his father-in-law weakly. Apparently whether or not Rose was affected hadn’t crossed his mind. “But what about all of that from earlier? Parallel universes colliding. Again.” No matter how tired and in pain he was, he still managed to make it sound like it was somehow the Doctor’s fault and the Doctor bridled.
“We’ll deal with it,” he said. He’d actually forgotten it was even a problem in all the rush that was happening.
“No need to worry about it,” said Rose. “I think it’s all part of the same thing.” The Doctor turned to look at her, not understanding. “When we were at Torchwood earlier I had just enough time to check the timelines. Everything’s converging at seven thirty-five tonight.” He blinked. “About the same time Isabelle and Captain Jed’ll be saving the universe, with the whole planet watching. That can’t be a coincidence.”
The Doctor nodded slowly. This had to be connected. Was Clocksleepers all one great big distraction for the human race? Nobody in Torchwood would even notice the world ending if the show was on.
Pete pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get the Dimension Cannon team back to work as well,” he said. “They should still be able to fit in a couple of hours of work before the finale.” He stepped away from the table to make the call.
Jackie chewed on a thumbnail anxiously.
“Mum, didn’t you notice?” asked Rose.
“Mm?”
“Didn’t you think a time traveller and his... companion from twenty-first century Earth was a bit too close to home?”
Jackie blinked slowly at Rose, eyes glazed over. The Doctor pushed the mug towards her again.
“Drink,” he ordered sternly, before turning back to Rose. “It looks like the hypnosis has instructed her specifically not to notice the similarities. If that’s the case, it’s definitely supposed to be a show about us.” He frowned, then. “Why on Earth was the first thing your post-hypnotised brain thought ‘Oh, a spectacularly irritating and ugly character with no fashion sense. Must be my husband’?”
Rose rolled her eyes and elbowed him. He pouted.
“It was Isabelle doing that speech about leaving her old life behind that made me think of me,” she said. “I think it was supposed to, you know. Everyone watching was supposed to think that Isabelle was just an ordinary person like them. But I’ve lived it. So I could remember it even after you turned the show off.”
The Doctor nodded, vaguely recalling Isabelle saying something about new worlds every day. He supposed it was a bit Rose-ish.
“Who is this?” he asked bitterly. “They’re targeting everyone in the world with access to a TV but they’re parodying us.”
Rose shrugged, but before either could speak further, Pete sat down again and pushed the car keys towards them.
“Take the jeep,” he said. “The check points’ll wave you by in my car. Constance is emailing the address on record for this Cara Bilboh straight to the GPS.”
Rose grabbed the keys and jumped to her feet.
“Drink up,” the Doctor said, pointing at the mugs in front of them. “Then go to bed. But don’t hurt yourselves trying not to watch. If it’s that painful, then do it.”
~*~
Despite knowing it was a trap, Rose and the Doctor saw no option but to walk right into it. Rose had done this sort of thing plenty of times before, but it didn’t make her keen on it. She wished they knew more. Still, what choice did they have?
They helped themselves to Pete’s spare Torchwood equipment from the garage, stuffing pockets and bags with anything that might be necessary and only having a minor fight about carrying weapons (which Rose won). Then they headed out of the mansion’s grounds in the jeep.
The streets of London were busy, but the drivers seemed more languid and relaxed than normal. Rose was able to dart in and out of the traffic with ease, so they made good progress. Even the military checkpoints they passed seemed slow and lazy. Normally one of Pete Tyler’s cars inspired the young soldiers that manned them to jump to attention and look nervous. Now, everyone seemed to be half in a trance.
Rose worried her lip as she drove. Beside her, the Doctor was studying the pages of the Authorised Guide. She forced back the still lingering urge to snatch it out of his hands.
She wanted to know. Would Isabelle be all right? What about Captain Jed? He needed someone. He couldn’t lose Isabelle!
Hitting a red light was a relief because she could stop the car and close her eyes. She did not care about this show, she only thought she did. The absurd parody of their lives made it a little easier to remember what was real. She fixed her mind on the first time they’d been to Canary Wharf and the stab of fear she still felt at the thought of being surrounded by Daleks and Cybermen and having to let go of the clamp to pull back the lever. The Doctor’s terrified face as she fell was burned into her memories forever.
And that was real. That was what it felt like to hold on for dear life, feeling your fingers slipping one by one and the terrible realisation that you were going to die and he was going to have to watch.
Isabelle - falling off her cliff and screaming away for a rescue - was an insult and a fake. Whatever the show wanted her to feel paled in comparison to the reality. Someone was mocking her and the Doctor.
“Rose?”
“What?” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Light’s green,” said the Doctor softly. His hand fell to rest on hers on the gear stick as she pulled away with an awkward jerk and shifted up.
A glance in her rear view mirror showed a build up of cars now following them at a sedate pace. Not a horn had sounded. All of these people had finished the show and their brains were allowing them to go about their day to day business, safe and happy in the knowledge that they’d seen their show. Rose had been ripped away from it and was still fighting the desire to demand they go back in time so they could finish watching it properly.
“Want me to drive?” offered the Doctor.
She found herself laughing. “God no.”
He pulled a face and squeezed her hand. Then, seeming to read her mind and work out what it was that was distracting her, he pocketed the book again and pulled off his glasses.
The priority lane through the final checkpoint out of London wasn’t even staffed, but Pete’s electronic remote allowed them through and out of the city, onto the almost empty M1.
“No one’s risking getting too far from home in between episodes,” Rose guessed, shoving away the part of her brain that wanted to do the same.
“Easier for us, I suppose,” said the Doctor. “There are usually far too many cars around.” He glanced around and down at the on board computer and GPS, presumably already bored of sitting in the car without his book to read. He began to fiddle with the computer and Rose kept her eyes on the road. If he was on a Clocksleepers website, she wanted to see...
“I can’t find any information about where we’re going more recent than a year and a half ago,” he said eventually. “Back then it was just an old industrial complex. Then all the owners suddenly sold up and left the place in the space of about a month. Very handy for our Cara Bob.”
“You’d think something like that would’ve raised some flags,” said Rose, glancing down at the screen to see at least eight large buildings and multiple smaller ones.
“With Torchwood, you mean?”
She grinned. “Not quite,” she said. “With one of the government departments for property. They’re nosy about that sort of thing even when the sale is normal. A lot in a row should really have got some paper-pushers excited. There should be a report or two, and Torchwood should have access via the government internal server.”
The Doctor nodded and was quiet for another minute or so. “All I can find is that it all belongs to Cara Bilboh,” he said. “No reports, public or otherwise.”
“I like this Cara Bob even less,” said Rose. “We even had to get a report done when we sold the flat.”
The Doctor blinked at her complacently and she rolled her eyes, although with some affection. Back when the TARDIS they’d been growing had first started to mature she had, despite the Doctor’s complaints, sold the small flat they’d been sharing. They’d then moved in with her parents. She’d wanted to cut off the ties she had to London so they’d be ready to go whenever they wanted. Not having council tax and insurance to worry about had been a relief. The Doctor had alternated between finding the newness of selling property fascinating and being bored silly by the complicated process. Rose guessed the three reports she’d had to have made (the state of the house, the state of her and the Doctor’s finances and an environmental report) had been commissioned during one of the latter times.
“Just trust me,” she said. “A lack of paperwork is weird.”
“Weirder than a TV show about us?” he challenged.
“Definitely,” she said, shooting him a smile.
“The whole thing smells funny,” said the Doctor. “Someone hacked into Torchwood to get this information about us, and possibly hypnotised people we know. Why? Back in the other universe I could name a dozen people without even pausing to think, but we’ve not had that much chance to annoy people here.”
Rose scrunched up her nose. “We must have annoyed some people enough,” she said. “Someone who we stopped with Torchwood maybe? Like that Alan Tremorn bloke just before we got the TARDIS working? He had money and stuff. He might’ve got out of custody and found a way to hypnotise people.” She frowned slightly. “I don’t think he’s got enough of a sense of humour, though.”
“Who we’re looking for doesn’t have much of one,” said the Doctor, running a hand through his hair with an arrogant sniff. “If they did, the show might be funnier.”
Rose chuckled to herself, smiling despite the situation. The Doctor’s strong and insistent dislike of Captain Jed had come on rather quickly. His refusal to acknowledge all of his own worst traits bundled together and exaggerated was adorably typical of him.
Without the haze of hypnosis, Rose couldn’t pretend that she found the character of Captain Jed particularly likeable. She loved the Doctor, ego and tendency to make silly speeches included, but Captain Jed was too much of a caricature and didn’t have the Doctor’s heart.
Isabelle, too, annoyed her. Partly because she was the sort of person Rose had feared she was back in the early days. She didn’t believe the Doctor had ever really done it on purpose (except, perhaps, during one or two rather memorable fights), but she’d often been left feeling slow and stupid and helpless - only there to be rescued. Now, she knew otherwise. And that was the other reason she found Isabelle so annoying: whoever made this show thought she was stupid and useless. It was insulting.
“Nearly there,” said the Doctor, in that imperturbable way of his, as though they were popping out to buy milk. Rose smiled at him, incredibly glad he was there with her. Saving the world (or universes, she reminded herself) was no fun alone.
That was a problem, though, wasn’t it?
“Doctor?” she began nervously. “You refused Torchwood help because you said they’d run off...”
“Not you,” he said quietly. “You’ve only been exposed for a short time. You can fight it. You know you can.”
“I hope so,” she said. “It just feels really strong sometimes.”
He squeezed her hand. “Well,” he said, “if you want to stay in the car...”
She felt herself grin a little. He wasn’t even suggesting it seriously, any more, just teasing to get her to keep fighting.
“Thanks,” she said.
He reached across and squeezed her hand again.
She turned off the road and through a gate in the ten foot high wall with barbed wire on the top. It wasn’t exactly welcoming, but the gate itself was wide open.
“We’re expected, aren’t we?” murmured the Doctor, looking around him. “No sign of movement.”
“Well we knew it was a trap,” she said, driving forward cautiously. “How long until it’s sprung?”
They drove into a central area surrounded by vast, grey, windowless buildings and warehouses. They all appeared to be connected to each other by covered corridors and Rose couldn't even guess what was inside. It wasn’t exactly the first thing her mind pictured when she thought of a millionaire TV show creator.
“Not exactly Beverly Hills, is it?” said the Doctor, echoing her thoughts. “Come on, pull over. Maybe we need to go and look for the trap.”
Rose glanced around for a suitable parking space, but even the alleys between the buildings did not look very hidden. Perhaps they should park outside the walls? There’d seemed to be no option but to come in through the front gate, but maybe they should have tried scaling the wall and cutting the barbed wire.
There was a CLANG. She spun around in her seat to see the gate they’d happily driven through was now closed.
“Maybe it’s time to meet the owners,” said the Doctor. His tone was light, but his wiry frame was tense and waiting for action.
Before Rose could open the door, the jeep was suddenly surrounded by a blinding white light. Her head seemed to burst with pain even after she shut her eyes and she groped for the Doctor, feeling him do the same.
“Allons-y!” he whispered fiercely in her ear and she kissed him on the neck and held on for dear life as she felt her consciousness begin to leave her, the flickering lights making it impossible to see anything.
The picture changed. Noise, lights, images, all dancing impossibly across her mind before... before... bef...
***
Part 2
Author: shinyopals
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Seven pm, Saturday nights. BBC One. A new smash-hit sci-fi drama has half the world on the edge of their seats every week. The thrilling adventures of an enigmatic and quirky hero are so exciting that nobody can look away. What could possibly be wrong with that?
Author's notes: Thanks to ginamak for beta reading and various others for encouragement!
Episode 18 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Game is Afoot last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
“What?”
“Shh!” hissed Jackie, not even sparing him a glance.
The Doctor turned back to Rose to demand she tell him what this show was. From the look on his wife’s face, though, she didn’t know either. She was staring between the three members of her family with obvious fear on her features. Not wanting to miss a show was one thing, but it was three in the afternoon and they had been busy at Torchwood.
Busy, in fact, with the potential end of the universes. Admittedly this happened rather more often than might be hoped, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that should be interrupted for afternoon television.
The drumming beat of the opening credits rose in a crescendo as orange lightning danced across the screen to suddenly reveal, in large dramatic letters, “CLOCKSLEEPERS”. Jackie, Pete and Tony stared in rapt attention at this, as though even missing a second of the opening credits would be appalling.
Rose seemed to recover herself and reached around them to pick up the TV scheduling magazine. Her hand trembled slightly as she scanned down the page. The Doctor moved to stand next to her, hoping to be a comforting presence in the face of this absurdity.
He would be the first to admit he didn’t know Pete as well as Jackie. Whatever part he’d played in getting the two of them together and however well it had worked out, Pete’s role at Torchwood made him far too busy for the Doctor to have anything approaching a friendship with him. All the same, his father-in-law had never been anything other than completely professional (sometimes excruciatingly so). Rushing home when all of Torchwood’s instruments were screaming that Armageddon was just a few scant hours away - even if the situation had happened before - was not what the Doctor had expected. He wasn’t sure Pete would even have run back to protect his family, let alone to sit down and watch TV. And while Jackie’s priorities seemed rather strange a lot of the time, she seemed to care more about the universe than the telly these days. Normally, anyway.
Something had to be wrong.
“Here it is,” said Rose, earning herself a frantic shushing from Pete. She bit her lip but lowered her voice as she continued. “Clocksleepers - repeat. See yesterday at six pm.” She flicked back the page. “And here all it says is it’s the penultimate episode of series one of a show about two time travellers.”
The Doctor blinked incredulously. “The entire of Torchwood just ran home for a re-run?”
“No, but time travel? Isn’t that a bit-?”
“Shush!” demanded Tony impatiently, looking so genuinely distressed that both the Doctor and Rose fell silent.
Rose pointed at the schedule again. The Doctor peered over her shoulder to read the rest. The finale was due to air that night at seven pm . If London shut down for a rerun, what on Earth would happen for a series finale?
On the screen a rather unattractive bloke - dressed in a stupid-looking hodge-podge assortment of clothes that seemed to indicate the wardrobe department was staffed by a five year old - was trying to save a shrieking blonde woman from peril. Peril of the form of a primitive looking tribe that appeared to be every offensive stereotype of primitive looking tribes, in fact. Their aim appeared to be to both marry her and eat her. The computer graphics were pretty appalling too.
“This is-“
“Will you shut up?”
The Doctor bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything further, since the Tylers were too far gone to get a sensible reaction. He continued to watch the show in agitated silence, needing to know what the something was that had everyone’s attention.
That something was what had made Pete (and all of Torchwood) run home in the middle of the afternoon. It had made Jackie sit silently without turning to chat. It had made Tony sit quietly on the floor without fidgeting or running off and without any toys in reach. This was all very wrong.
He could feel the hypnotic effect just slightly, even after only a few moments. There was a relaxing warm feeling, like waves washing against the sand, trying to invade his brain and convince him that everything was all right. The show wanted him to believe it was right and good to sit and watch and stay silent. When Isabelle - the shrieking blonde - was rescued from her peril, the show was telling him to clap with joy and relief that she was safe. He was supposed to be so glad that she was all right.
She was supposed to be beautiful, too. Beautiful and helpless and in need of the hero’s brilliant and daring rescue. The show wanted him to be relieved and happy at them being reunited and the passionate words exchanged.
When, during the frantic chase scene that followed, Isabelle tripped and fell, he could feel his treacherous brain trying to panic. What if she died? He wanted to long for the hero to rescue her. He wanted them to be together...
The Doctor shook his head and pinched his nose. It was good. Subtle enough that no human would notice, but strong. A forceful hook after only a few moments and the continued reassurance throughout.
Watch the show.
Love it.
Care.
The Doctor could fight it off, of course. His mental powers were somewhat reduced, but he was still Time Lord enough, thank you very much. No wonder, though, that what seemed like all of London had run home for this. Maybe even the entire country had.
He needed to work out where this was coming from.
But maybe just a few more minutes...
Captain thingummy (the Doctor hadn’t noticed his name) paused half way though his rescue of Isabelle - while she was still dangling from a cliff face, no less - to give a speech to the primitive tribe about ‘honour’ and ‘bravery’ and how they should go back to their homes and be better people. The show wanted him to think it was brilliant and inspirational and a lesson for everyone on how to behave. Instead it was merely irritating.
Snorting at the stupidity of pausing mid-rescue to deliver a speech like that, and the absurdly patronising way Captain whatever-his-name-was did so, the Doctor forced himself to pry his eyes from the screen and turn to Rose.
Rose.
Rose who was human.
Rose who did not have the defences he did, even if she had been aware something was wrong.
Rose who was now staring at the screen, lips slightly parted and eyes dilated. She was still holding the TV magazine limply in one hand.
He felt a thrum of fear in his heart and reached out to take her hand. She took it readily enough, the corner of her lips turning up in acknowledgement of his presence. She was still there, then. Not blacked out or in any sort of trance. All the same, she did not look away from the screen.
“Rose-“
“Shh!” she hissed at him, not turning away from the show.
Gently he tugged her hand in an attempt to lead her out of the room, but she was fixed on the spot like a statue.
For a second, he hesitated. A sudden break in this sort of trance might cause confusion and anger and would not break the permanent hypnotic link, which was what had made the streets empty for the show. That, and Jackie would kill him if he broke the TV again. Another glance at Rose’s vacant eyes made the decision for him. Without the show, the Tylers had been normal - well, normal for them - so he would get that far at least. And Rose was a fighter: she would be able to shake it off.
He pulled the sonic out of his pocket and aimed it at the TV.
There was a crackle and a spark of electricity. The picture fizzed and died and a faint smell of burning plastic filled the air.
At once, the Tylers were animated again. Jackie, Pete and Tony all jumped to their feet and Rose spun towards the Doctor with wild eyes.
“What have you-? There’s a TV upstairs!”
The Doctor was thrown aside as Jackie (carrying Tony) and Pete barrelled past him and out the door. Rose made to follow but the Doctor kept his hold on her hand.
“What are you-? Let me go!” she ordered sharply. He winced inwardly, although managed to keep his face steady. Mind control or not, using his own strength against her was never something he enjoyed. He shouldn’t have to do this.
“There’s some sort of hypnosis-“ he began.
“Well tell me after the show!”
“Rose!” he snapped.
Something in his face or voice made her hesitate. He could still feel her pulling away from him, but he’d bought himself a few seconds.
“Clocksleepers is hypnotic,” he said slowly, holding her gaze as steadily as he could and trying not to sound like he was pleading. “The show’s pulled you right in. It’s all my fault. Oh, I’m sorry. But think for a minute. Just think! You can, break it. If anyone can, you can. Half an hour ago, we were at Torchwood-“
“But we came back to watch Clocksleepers,” she argued, almost as though she hadn’t heard him. All the same, he could see a war between confusion and annoyance on her face.
“You’d never heard of the show before today,” he countered. “When did we last watch TV on the TARDIS? Come on, Rose.”
“We don’t watch telly,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “I know we don’t. Don’t be daft.” He waited for a moment, seeing the facts he’d forced her to remember collide with what the show wanted her to think and feel.
Her hand moved to her face, letting go of his in the process. She screwed her eyes shut, looking pained.
“Half an hour ago, I hadn’t heard of this show,” she said doubtfully.
“Yes, Rose, yes! You know it’s true! You know you’ve never seen it! Come on, fight!” Of course Rose could fight it: she always could. She was strong enough. She had to be.
“Oh, my head,” she said suddenly, dropping the magazine and rubbing her temples. Before he could do anything, she looked back up at him sharply. “We need to get upstairs.”
“But- Rose-“
“Cut the power to the house,” she interrupted through gritted teeth. “Fuses in the cellar. Tell my family you’ll fix it and meet me in Tony’s room.”
He felt himself grin. Rose was winning! “Aye aye, Captain!” he replied. She sent him a rough looking smile in return and hurried out of the room.
Somewhat relieved, although still worried for Rose and the rest of his family, the Doctor let himself into the cellar and cut through the main cable leading into the fuse box. The room plunged into darkness. The Doctor stumbled back up the stairs with only the light from the sonic. Fortunately, the mid afternoon sun still streamed through the windows above ground. He hurriedly shoved the sonic back in his pocket and headed for the stairs.
On his way up, he ran into three panicked looking Tylers. They were running down, perhaps to check the downstairs set again. It would have been almost comic if it weren’t so sick. The frantic worry in Jackie and Pete’s eyes was bad enough, but Tony was already crying in a quiet, desperate little way.
He felt his heart break a little. He’d done this. Maybe it would have been kinder to leave them in ignorance and let them watch. Bending down, he gently picked up his brother-in-law. He smoothed Tony’s hair and wiped his tears away.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” he lied.
Jackie and Pete seemed to be far enough gone to not even remember he’d been the one to break the television set in the downstairs living room.
He led them down to the kitchen, put the kettle on and got Tony a bowl of ice cream.
“Just relax,” he instructed them, keeping his voice low. “Breathe slowly. Try to empty your minds. I’ll go and sort this out. You just say here and don’t worry about anything.” With the way they were now, trying to get them to relax could only be a good idea. He wasn’t sure he’d be very successful, but he had to try. If he had to try and hypnotise them out of it for their own sanity, a pre-meditative state would speed things up.
Heading upstairs again, he then rushed down the corridor to Tony’s room. Rose was nowhere to be seen; for a second he panicked. Then he heard her calling from Tony’s playroom, attached to his room.
She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and books. Her hair was coming loose and he guessed she’d spend most of the last five minutes worrying it as she kept fighting with herself. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wild and a little vacant.
He was by her side in a second, folding into the small gap on the floor not covered by toys and pulling her into him for a hug. She seemed to relax a little, resting her head against his chest and slowing down her breathing. She still felt tense, though; he rubbed his hands up and down her back, trying to be soothing.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Not your fault,” she said tightly, her voice obscured a little by the fact that she was talking into his jacket.
“You could stop fighting,” he suggested. “Not properly, I mean. But just accept that you’ll like the show and you want to see more.”
A look told him exactly what she thought about that.
He shrugged apologetically. “It’d be easier.”
She snorted. “Hi, I’m Rose Tyler. You seem to be mistaking me for someone else.”
“Someone with a lick of common sense?” he teased. Despite it all, he felt her smile.
“Whoever it is, she sounds dull.”
He smiled. She leaned back a little, which allowed him to kiss her nose. “What’s all this, then?” he asked, gesturing to all the mess on the floor and taking a proper look at it for the first time.
Beside him were a couple of action figures. He picked them up and inspected them through his glasses. It was Isabelle and Captain whatever from Clocksleepers. Somehow, in five-inch-plastic form, they looked even worse than they did on the show. The Captain’s outfit was particularly garish.
“Research?”
“Well I thought if Tony liked the show, he must have the toys,” said Rose. “Spoiled little sod,” she added affectionately.
“Mmm?” said the Doctor mildly, still studying the Captain and Isabelle. They both seemed to be frozen in blank horror.
“Way more toys than I ever had,” Rose pointed out, gesturing around. “And a separate room to put them in. For a six year old.”
The Doctor, whose vague recollections of his own childhood were closer to Tony’s experience than whatever Rose’s had been (children destined for the Academy wanted for nothing, after all), made an agreeing murmur and picked up what appeared to be a spin-off book. He didn’t think Tony could even read this sort of thing yet, although he found the education and development of human children rather confusing, so he could be wrong.
“I’ve got the Authorised Guide to Clocksleepers here,” said Rose, holding up the book in her hand. The two lead characters were posed dramatically on the cover, with a background of bright colours and sparkles. There was also a collection of creatures in various threatening poses behind them.
“The person behind this must be a millionaire,” said the Doctor, flipping to the front pages of his own book. Licensed by the BBC. That was helpful. The copyright was in the name of Cara Bilboh, which was slightly more helpful. “Maybe we should look up the copyright holder,” he suggested. “It could just be a psychic alien with a get rich quick scheme.” He didn’t really think so, but a bit of optimism couldn’t hurt.
“Yeah, but listen to this,” said Rose. “‘The Movridons - an ancient alien race from centuries in the future - want to prevent humanity from ever developing and challenging their superiority. Captain Jed, an enigmatic and handsome stranger, is the only one who can stop them. Together with the love of his life, Isabelle - a girl from twenty-first century London - they must travel through the timeline fighting off Movridons and other aliens at every turn, making sure time follows its course.’”
The Doctor sniffed. “Noble aim,” he conceded. “Ridiculous writing, though. Did you see that awful speech earlier?”
Rose tutted. “But don’t you see it?” she demanded. Seeing his blank look, she flipped forward a couple of pages to read again. “‘Not much is known about the mysterious Captain Jed except that his stated goal is to save humanity. Is he human? Alien? Mortal? Immortal? All that’s know for sure is that he never speaks of his past and he always believes the best of the human race, never killing or hurting anyone if he can help it.’”
“Might be a decent bloke if he weren’t so annoying and patronising,” said the Doctor. “Are you feeling all right, Rose? I think we need to go after this Cara Bilboh and stop worrying about who’s in the show.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Doctor, just listen,” she said, turning yet another page in the book. “‘Isabelle Buchanan was a normal English girl working in a cafe until one day her life was turned upside-down by the arrival of a charismatic and enigmatic Captain Jed. She found her way into his hardened heart and now they travel through time together, saving the world day after day. Isabelle’s innocence and friendliness often help bring the tough and distant Captain back down to Earth.’” She broke off and looked expectantly at the Doctor.
He suspected this was still the hypnosis working and wondered what, exactly, she wanted him to say. Did she need him to confirm that the show was as bad as she was trying to convince herself? Or was she thinking it was good again?
“She had a very grating shriek,” was the first thing that came to mind. Apart from the created desire for Isabelle and Captain Jed to live happily ever after, he’d not had any opinion of her for the few minutes he’d watched.
Rose gave an exasperated snort. “Are you doing this on purpose?” she said. “Oh, of course you’re not. Who am I kidding? Look, think about it stripped of all the flowery stuff about ‘hardened hearts’ and stuff. Isn’t it really close to home? They’re just like us!”
“What?”
“A mysterious time traveller who jumps around saving the world and the normal human woman he falls for? He never kills anyone? Some sort of dark past? She works in a normal, boring job before she meets him? Even some of these aliens look familiar!” She showed him the front cover again and pointed to a green creature in the back that maybe looked a little bit Slitheen. “Their story, this Isabelle is supposed to sort of, you know, help him. It says he gets... you know, a bit more human.”
The Doctor smiled fondly at Rose before he suddenly remembered what this conversation was about. “No, wait... I am nothing like him! He’s a- He- He wears stupid clothes,” he finished. It wasn’t, perhaps, as impressive an argument as he’d hoped to make. All the same, he glared irritably at the gaudy action figure he was still holding. There had been a time, he supposed, but he wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that these days.
“Well Isabelle seems to need rescuing every ten minutes,” said Rose. “I like to think I don’t. But you can’t really deny the similarities.”
He couldn’t, and that was the most annoying thing. He glared balefully at the figure in his hand once again, thanking his lucky stars Rose had never met his sixth incarnation.
“Someone’s got to be doing this on purpose,” said Rose. “All that stuff with that Bob Charila bloke-“ the Doctor pulled closer to her without even thinking about it, remembering what had happened. She squeezed his hand, and smiled tightly. “What did you say the name of the person behind this is?”
“Cara Bilboh,” he replied. “Cara Bilboh and Bob Charila and...” He trailed off as the letters caught his attention. “Two ‘a’s, one ‘i’... o... Cara Bilboh is an anagram of Bob Charila!”
“Or Bob is an anagram of Cara,” said Rose. “Or both are anagrams of something else. That can’t be a coincidence, though, can it?”
The Doctor scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’ve known for quite some time that someone is after us,” he murmured. “But a television show?”
“It’s attention grabbing,” she replied. “Not that the bomb wasn’t. But this... this is something else. The bomb must’ve been to take us out, but Clocksleepers is all part of some bigger plan.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Except our friend Bob - or Cara - knows that we escaped. Pete said there were cameras in that factory, didn’t he?”
Rose winced. His grip on her hand tightened. The thought of someone secretly making videos of them was bad enough, but that they’d nearly killed Rose in the process...
“Gathering data,” she said. “And why go to all the effort of making the show like us? No, you’re right: we weren’t supposed to die there.”
“But how does Cara or Bob know this stuff?” demanded the Doctor, jabbing the book viciously with one finger. “All right, so it doesn’t look like they know that much about us - anyone who’s spent longer than five minutes with us knows you’re not the shrieking sort and my speeches are a lot better than his - but some of the surface similarities are too accurate to be guesswork.”
“If this person can hypnotise people the same way their show does, they’d just have to walk into Torchwood,” said Rose. “There are files. Highly classified files, but they do exist. We’ve been on the radar since that stuff with the Cybermen and some of it’s in the paperwork.” She hesitated. “And if they’re that good, Mum or Dad or Michelle or anyone might’ve told them anything.”
“Hypnosis isn’t harmful, in and of itself,” said the Doctor quietly. “You can’t hypnotise someone to die, remember?” She sent him a small, tight smile at that. “If Bob Charila or Cara Bilboh got information from your family, they’d’ve had to have been careful and not hurt anyone.” He paused. “And 'Bob or Cara' is too much of a mouthful. Bobcar? Charbil? Cabo?”
Rose giggled suddenly and he smiled at her.
“I think we need to go and find... Charbil,” she said, managing to keep a straight face.
“Indeed,” he agreed. They both got to their feet. The Doctor took the authorised guide and pocketed it. If they had time, reading up on exactly what similarities there were wouldn’t hurt.
“After all,” said Rose, rallying herself for action. “We wouldn’t be us if we didn’t jump straight into a trap.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was sort of thinking about that, too.”
“We’ll think of something,” she said firmly.
Before they could go anywhere, though, they had Jackie, Pete and Tony to deal with. The Doctor mixed together a bit of a cocktail using cough medicine and a few other things he found in the cupboard, wishing the TARDIS wasn’t currently at Torchwood as he did so. Still, this would do.
He made Tony drink half a cup before Rose took him up to bed.
“He’ll sleep right through the night,” he assured Jackie and Pete.
“But he’ll miss the finale!” argued Jackie. “He can’t do that!”
“You’re all going to miss the finale,” he said firmly, steering Jackie back into the kitchen chair. He poured a mug of the mixture for both her and Pete and set it down in front of them.
“I’m not bloody going to bed now,” she said, folding her arms. By this time, the penultimate episode had finished airing so she and Pete had returned to coherency, barely seeming to notice they’d spent forty-five minutes going out of their minds. Unfortunately, this meant that Jackie’s argumentativeness had returned in full force. “Besides, I saw you with your beepy sonic screwdriver thingy earlier. You broke the TV. I bet the power’s out because of you, too! And I’ll tell you one thing, mister, you are going to-“
“Jackie,” he interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. Despite this, he was somewhat relieved she was her normal self again. “Yes, I broke the TV. And cut the power. Although the latter was under Rose’s instruction so if you’re looking for someone to- Anyway. Not the point.”
“You can’t just waltz into my house and run around breaking things,” she snapped, glancing at a weary-looking Pete for back up. “I don’t know what you do in your TARDIS, but this is our house.”
“Mum, calm down for a sec,” came Rose’s voice from the door. She moved into the room and sat next to her mother. “Just think back. At the time you didn’t care about that. You watched the Doctor break the TV - on purpose no less - and what did you do? You ran upstairs to see the rest of the show.”
“Well we didn’t want to miss-“
“The second half of a show you’ve already seen,” put in the Doctor. “Since when does the wanton destruction of property coupled with a chance to tell me off rank as less important than that?”
Jackie opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before turning to Pete once again. Pete had looked rather resigned only moments before, but now his eyebrows were knotted in confusion.
“We came home from work,” he said at last, “to watch the telly.” The Doctor grinned. He hadn’t even needed to prompt Pete about how weird that was.
“It’s hypnotic,” he explained. “Very strongly so. I bet half the country ran home from work to do the same.”
“More than that, probably,” said Pete.
“They show it in pubs if you haven’t got a set at home,” said Jackie. “Don’t know why we didn’t think- But anyway. Everyone tries to see it.”
“The BBC sold the rights worldwide,” added Pete. “Everywhere’s gearing up for the finale tonight.” He frowned. “Or this morning, even. It’s playing at the same time everywhere. One of my associates in Tokyo is going to watch it at three in the morning.”
“Everywhere? It’s playing at the same time?” said Rose.
“Seven o’clock on the dot here,” said Jackie. “And after we have to wait weeks every time some new Disney film comes out, it hardly seems fair.” She frowned. “I suppose it is a bit strange, that.”
“Look, whatever’s happening, we’re going to sort it,” said Rose confidently. “Dad, can you get someone to find out where we need to go to locate Cara Bilboh?”
“I’ll ring Constance,” he replied. “She’ll find out. Do you think we should-?”
“My head!” Jackie’s outburst made them all jump. She seemed to be swaying in her seat. Rose grabbed her mother’s hand and the Doctor nudged the mug he’d prepared towards her. Glancing at Pete, he saw that the other man seemed to be a little pained, but mostly just worried about Jackie.
“Drink up, Mum,” Rose urged.
“It’s nothing major,” the Doctor explained quickly. “Your brain is just having a bit of a fight with the intruding influence. Bound to hurt a bit. Come on, Jackie: you’re good in an argument.”
That got him a weak smile, but finally Jackie drank.
“Deep breaths,” he murmured. “Just empty your mind of anything.”
“Any comments about how easy I should find that and I’ll smack you,” she muttered. He grinned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he said. “And you, Pete. Then both of you should go and have a lie down like Tony.”
“All right,” agreed Pete at last. “But don’t you two need some back up?”
“No,” said the Doctor quickly. “Not if everyone in the country’s watching. They won’t come. Or they’ll just leave when it’s time for the show.” He saw Rose’s worried look but he kept his eyes on Pete.
“Fine, fine,” said his father-in-law weakly. Apparently whether or not Rose was affected hadn’t crossed his mind. “But what about all of that from earlier? Parallel universes colliding. Again.” No matter how tired and in pain he was, he still managed to make it sound like it was somehow the Doctor’s fault and the Doctor bridled.
“We’ll deal with it,” he said. He’d actually forgotten it was even a problem in all the rush that was happening.
“No need to worry about it,” said Rose. “I think it’s all part of the same thing.” The Doctor turned to look at her, not understanding. “When we were at Torchwood earlier I had just enough time to check the timelines. Everything’s converging at seven thirty-five tonight.” He blinked. “About the same time Isabelle and Captain Jed’ll be saving the universe, with the whole planet watching. That can’t be a coincidence.”
The Doctor nodded slowly. This had to be connected. Was Clocksleepers all one great big distraction for the human race? Nobody in Torchwood would even notice the world ending if the show was on.
Pete pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get the Dimension Cannon team back to work as well,” he said. “They should still be able to fit in a couple of hours of work before the finale.” He stepped away from the table to make the call.
Jackie chewed on a thumbnail anxiously.
“Mum, didn’t you notice?” asked Rose.
“Mm?”
“Didn’t you think a time traveller and his... companion from twenty-first century Earth was a bit too close to home?”
Jackie blinked slowly at Rose, eyes glazed over. The Doctor pushed the mug towards her again.
“Drink,” he ordered sternly, before turning back to Rose. “It looks like the hypnosis has instructed her specifically not to notice the similarities. If that’s the case, it’s definitely supposed to be a show about us.” He frowned, then. “Why on Earth was the first thing your post-hypnotised brain thought ‘Oh, a spectacularly irritating and ugly character with no fashion sense. Must be my husband’?”
Rose rolled her eyes and elbowed him. He pouted.
“It was Isabelle doing that speech about leaving her old life behind that made me think of me,” she said. “I think it was supposed to, you know. Everyone watching was supposed to think that Isabelle was just an ordinary person like them. But I’ve lived it. So I could remember it even after you turned the show off.”
The Doctor nodded, vaguely recalling Isabelle saying something about new worlds every day. He supposed it was a bit Rose-ish.
“Who is this?” he asked bitterly. “They’re targeting everyone in the world with access to a TV but they’re parodying us.”
Rose shrugged, but before either could speak further, Pete sat down again and pushed the car keys towards them.
“Take the jeep,” he said. “The check points’ll wave you by in my car. Constance is emailing the address on record for this Cara Bilboh straight to the GPS.”
Rose grabbed the keys and jumped to her feet.
“Drink up,” the Doctor said, pointing at the mugs in front of them. “Then go to bed. But don’t hurt yourselves trying not to watch. If it’s that painful, then do it.”
~*~
Despite knowing it was a trap, Rose and the Doctor saw no option but to walk right into it. Rose had done this sort of thing plenty of times before, but it didn’t make her keen on it. She wished they knew more. Still, what choice did they have?
They helped themselves to Pete’s spare Torchwood equipment from the garage, stuffing pockets and bags with anything that might be necessary and only having a minor fight about carrying weapons (which Rose won). Then they headed out of the mansion’s grounds in the jeep.
The streets of London were busy, but the drivers seemed more languid and relaxed than normal. Rose was able to dart in and out of the traffic with ease, so they made good progress. Even the military checkpoints they passed seemed slow and lazy. Normally one of Pete Tyler’s cars inspired the young soldiers that manned them to jump to attention and look nervous. Now, everyone seemed to be half in a trance.
Rose worried her lip as she drove. Beside her, the Doctor was studying the pages of the Authorised Guide. She forced back the still lingering urge to snatch it out of his hands.
She wanted to know. Would Isabelle be all right? What about Captain Jed? He needed someone. He couldn’t lose Isabelle!
Hitting a red light was a relief because she could stop the car and close her eyes. She did not care about this show, she only thought she did. The absurd parody of their lives made it a little easier to remember what was real. She fixed her mind on the first time they’d been to Canary Wharf and the stab of fear she still felt at the thought of being surrounded by Daleks and Cybermen and having to let go of the clamp to pull back the lever. The Doctor’s terrified face as she fell was burned into her memories forever.
And that was real. That was what it felt like to hold on for dear life, feeling your fingers slipping one by one and the terrible realisation that you were going to die and he was going to have to watch.
Isabelle - falling off her cliff and screaming away for a rescue - was an insult and a fake. Whatever the show wanted her to feel paled in comparison to the reality. Someone was mocking her and the Doctor.
“Rose?”
“What?” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Light’s green,” said the Doctor softly. His hand fell to rest on hers on the gear stick as she pulled away with an awkward jerk and shifted up.
A glance in her rear view mirror showed a build up of cars now following them at a sedate pace. Not a horn had sounded. All of these people had finished the show and their brains were allowing them to go about their day to day business, safe and happy in the knowledge that they’d seen their show. Rose had been ripped away from it and was still fighting the desire to demand they go back in time so they could finish watching it properly.
“Want me to drive?” offered the Doctor.
She found herself laughing. “God no.”
He pulled a face and squeezed her hand. Then, seeming to read her mind and work out what it was that was distracting her, he pocketed the book again and pulled off his glasses.
The priority lane through the final checkpoint out of London wasn’t even staffed, but Pete’s electronic remote allowed them through and out of the city, onto the almost empty M1.
“No one’s risking getting too far from home in between episodes,” Rose guessed, shoving away the part of her brain that wanted to do the same.
“Easier for us, I suppose,” said the Doctor. “There are usually far too many cars around.” He glanced around and down at the on board computer and GPS, presumably already bored of sitting in the car without his book to read. He began to fiddle with the computer and Rose kept her eyes on the road. If he was on a Clocksleepers website, she wanted to see...
“I can’t find any information about where we’re going more recent than a year and a half ago,” he said eventually. “Back then it was just an old industrial complex. Then all the owners suddenly sold up and left the place in the space of about a month. Very handy for our Cara Bob.”
“You’d think something like that would’ve raised some flags,” said Rose, glancing down at the screen to see at least eight large buildings and multiple smaller ones.
“With Torchwood, you mean?”
She grinned. “Not quite,” she said. “With one of the government departments for property. They’re nosy about that sort of thing even when the sale is normal. A lot in a row should really have got some paper-pushers excited. There should be a report or two, and Torchwood should have access via the government internal server.”
The Doctor nodded and was quiet for another minute or so. “All I can find is that it all belongs to Cara Bilboh,” he said. “No reports, public or otherwise.”
“I like this Cara Bob even less,” said Rose. “We even had to get a report done when we sold the flat.”
The Doctor blinked at her complacently and she rolled her eyes, although with some affection. Back when the TARDIS they’d been growing had first started to mature she had, despite the Doctor’s complaints, sold the small flat they’d been sharing. They’d then moved in with her parents. She’d wanted to cut off the ties she had to London so they’d be ready to go whenever they wanted. Not having council tax and insurance to worry about had been a relief. The Doctor had alternated between finding the newness of selling property fascinating and being bored silly by the complicated process. Rose guessed the three reports she’d had to have made (the state of the house, the state of her and the Doctor’s finances and an environmental report) had been commissioned during one of the latter times.
“Just trust me,” she said. “A lack of paperwork is weird.”
“Weirder than a TV show about us?” he challenged.
“Definitely,” she said, shooting him a smile.
“The whole thing smells funny,” said the Doctor. “Someone hacked into Torchwood to get this information about us, and possibly hypnotised people we know. Why? Back in the other universe I could name a dozen people without even pausing to think, but we’ve not had that much chance to annoy people here.”
Rose scrunched up her nose. “We must have annoyed some people enough,” she said. “Someone who we stopped with Torchwood maybe? Like that Alan Tremorn bloke just before we got the TARDIS working? He had money and stuff. He might’ve got out of custody and found a way to hypnotise people.” She frowned slightly. “I don’t think he’s got enough of a sense of humour, though.”
“Who we’re looking for doesn’t have much of one,” said the Doctor, running a hand through his hair with an arrogant sniff. “If they did, the show might be funnier.”
Rose chuckled to herself, smiling despite the situation. The Doctor’s strong and insistent dislike of Captain Jed had come on rather quickly. His refusal to acknowledge all of his own worst traits bundled together and exaggerated was adorably typical of him.
Without the haze of hypnosis, Rose couldn’t pretend that she found the character of Captain Jed particularly likeable. She loved the Doctor, ego and tendency to make silly speeches included, but Captain Jed was too much of a caricature and didn’t have the Doctor’s heart.
Isabelle, too, annoyed her. Partly because she was the sort of person Rose had feared she was back in the early days. She didn’t believe the Doctor had ever really done it on purpose (except, perhaps, during one or two rather memorable fights), but she’d often been left feeling slow and stupid and helpless - only there to be rescued. Now, she knew otherwise. And that was the other reason she found Isabelle so annoying: whoever made this show thought she was stupid and useless. It was insulting.
“Nearly there,” said the Doctor, in that imperturbable way of his, as though they were popping out to buy milk. Rose smiled at him, incredibly glad he was there with her. Saving the world (or universes, she reminded herself) was no fun alone.
That was a problem, though, wasn’t it?
“Doctor?” she began nervously. “You refused Torchwood help because you said they’d run off...”
“Not you,” he said quietly. “You’ve only been exposed for a short time. You can fight it. You know you can.”
“I hope so,” she said. “It just feels really strong sometimes.”
He squeezed her hand. “Well,” he said, “if you want to stay in the car...”
She felt herself grin a little. He wasn’t even suggesting it seriously, any more, just teasing to get her to keep fighting.
“Thanks,” she said.
He reached across and squeezed her hand again.
She turned off the road and through a gate in the ten foot high wall with barbed wire on the top. It wasn’t exactly welcoming, but the gate itself was wide open.
“We’re expected, aren’t we?” murmured the Doctor, looking around him. “No sign of movement.”
“Well we knew it was a trap,” she said, driving forward cautiously. “How long until it’s sprung?”
They drove into a central area surrounded by vast, grey, windowless buildings and warehouses. They all appeared to be connected to each other by covered corridors and Rose couldn't even guess what was inside. It wasn’t exactly the first thing her mind pictured when she thought of a millionaire TV show creator.
“Not exactly Beverly Hills, is it?” said the Doctor, echoing her thoughts. “Come on, pull over. Maybe we need to go and look for the trap.”
Rose glanced around for a suitable parking space, but even the alleys between the buildings did not look very hidden. Perhaps they should park outside the walls? There’d seemed to be no option but to come in through the front gate, but maybe they should have tried scaling the wall and cutting the barbed wire.
There was a CLANG. She spun around in her seat to see the gate they’d happily driven through was now closed.
“Maybe it’s time to meet the owners,” said the Doctor. His tone was light, but his wiry frame was tense and waiting for action.
Before Rose could open the door, the jeep was suddenly surrounded by a blinding white light. Her head seemed to burst with pain even after she shut her eyes and she groped for the Doctor, feeling him do the same.
“Allons-y!” he whispered fiercely in her ear and she kissed him on the neck and held on for dear life as she felt her consciousness begin to leave her, the flickering lights making it impossible to see anything.
The picture changed. Noise, lights, images, all dancing impossibly across her mind before... before... bef...
***
Part 2