Torchwood 1944: The New Lords of Time

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"I am," he said. "I... always have been."

"You're the one who told Robert to build.. that thing." She said slowly, her eyes moving to the tracking device that he hooked up to the phone. It had worked, which had amazed but her and the captain. Something so crude which worked better then many technologies ever developed.

"I am the Meddler, Dreamweaver..." he shook his head. "Celia." He took a step towards her, extending his hand, revealing a palm and fingers covered with a spider's web of fine silver lines. "I am still your husband, Celia. Robert Goodall is not dead."

Her green eyes took in his hands from a distance, not noticing he had taken a step closer to her in the meantime. She sucked in a breath at the sight of that hand, a spider web of the thinnest silver weaving through his skin. She.. she had never seen that there. And she had looked at that hand often. Her eyes widened and she snatched his hand in reflex.

"Where's the ring gone! What have you done with it!" She snapped. But immediately her eyes rolled back as her hand made contact with the silvery spider web on his hand. Images filling her mind, things she had seen before, in her dreams and things she couldn't even begin to dream of.

She pulled her hand back and cradled it at her chest as if she burned herself, unstable on those bloody heels for a moment as she stumbled. Her green eyes were on him, still startled and wide with fright.

"You.. you made that, didn't you? You told him how to make that didn't you?" She said, her eyes flitting to the device again. But her thoughts were interrupted by the Captain cocking his gun at Rober- no. The Meddler.

"I don't know what you are," he said, pointing the pistol at the Meddler, "but you've already killed my friend. Whatever you are, you won't kill his wife as well."

She came up next to Captain, placing her hand on the barrel of the gun, pushing it down gently. She looked into the elder man's eyes, shaking her head slowly before she looked back at the Meddler.

"He made that, remember." She nodded towards the device "He... he can find my children. I know he can. I saw it." She said softly, in wonderment of her own words. She had seen things that split second she held his hand that she could not phantom.

"I need to get my children back, at all costs."

The other question was on her lips, but she was too afraid to ask. She knew full well why he called her the Dreamweaver. She didn't want to face that one this moment, her emotions where in a whirl wind and the early pregnancy hormones weren't making it any better.

"I'll do anything, I just want my children back" She said, straightening her back.

[The Meddler]

"You're the one who told Robert to build.. that thing." She said slowly, her eyes moving to the tracking device that he hooked up to the phone.

"Not... precisely," he said,looking at the device as well. "I - Robert - knew how to build it. But Robert had to be reminded, because he was..." His voice trailed away.

"Yuir nae explainin' yuirself, Robin," he said, in the Irish accent.

"English doesn't have the words to explain it, not well," he answered himself. He gripped his forehead, wincing. "What did the TARDIS do?"

He looked back at Celia. "I'm sorry," he said, "It's probably easiest for now to think of it as the Meddler telling Robert how to do it. It's not quite right, but it'll do."

And then he tried to explain, tried to make her understand that he was still her husband.

And she had looked at that hand often. Her eyes widened and she snatched his hand in reflex.

"Where's the ring gone! What have you done with it!" She snapped. But immediately her eyes rolled back as her hand made contact with the silvery spider web on his hand.

She pulled her hand back and cradled it at her chest as if she burned herself, unstable on those bloody heels for a moment as she stumbled. Her green eyes were on him, still startled and wide with fright.

There was pain his strange, glowing eyes. He looked as if he'd been slapped. "Celia..." he said, reaching for her again. "I..."

"You.. you made that, didn't you? You told him how to make that didn't you?" She said, her eyes flitting to the device again.

He sighed. "We made it, Robert and I. Two parts of the same whole - body and mind, so to speak."

And then there was a gun in his face, and a terrified Army Captain trying to defend Celia from something utterly outside his ken. The Meddler's emotions were mixed at that - pride at the courage of a man he'd called friend, and irritation.

She came up next to Captain, placing her hand on the barrel of the gun, pushing it down gently. She looked into the elder man's eyes, shaking her head slowly before she looked back at the Meddler.

"He made that, remember." She nodded towards the device "He... he can find my children. I know he can. I saw it." She said softly, in wonderment of her own words.

"I can," the Meddler said, confidently. "Robert knew it, too. That's why he was willing to - as he thought - die to let me. Because I can and I will find them."

"I need to get my children back, at all costs." She paused. "I'll do anything, I just want my children back."

"You'll get them back," he promised. "We'll get them back."

He drew a deep breath. "Nelson. countermand the order to execute the German prisoner. I may need him. And have a squad ready to raid Corrstown."

He looked back at the map and the device. "I'm usually a pacifist. But these men have taken my children. And when I return from the Devil's Punchbowl?"

"I will show them war."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

He kept explaining how he and Robert were the same man, but her eyes showed enough that she didn't believe that one just off the bat. She wouldn't be Celia if she did. She couldn't place the strangely occurring Irish accent either, like there was another entity with him. Which was insane, of course.

He tried to explain to her that he was still her husband, and she wanted to believe him so badly. But she still kept her safe distance away from him. Even though he looked and smelled like her husband, her love never had such burning eyes, like he had seen the ages.

Her hand in his had not made things better, but at least she understood better who or what he was. Her senses were right, just like they had to be with dealing with the Fae folk. She immediately had noticed that he wasn't human. Which was what made her so distrusting of him. It had kept her alive all these years. That's why she pulled herself away as quickly as she could, cradling her hand to her chest. It tingled.

There was pain his strange, glowing eyes. He looked as if he'd been slapped. "Celia..." he said, reaching for her again. "I..."

"You're like the Doctor, you're a Time Lord." She stated without hesitation, she knew it was true, she easily put two and two together. She had read the blue box files long ago, had to know what the enemy wanted so badly.

"You.. you made that, didn't you? You told him how to make that didn't you?" She said, her eyes flitting to the device again.

He sighed. "We made it, Robert and I. Two parts of the same whole - body and mind, so to speak."

"I'll be frank with you, I'm not buying what you're saying. Torchwood didn't hire me to believe everything that is told to me, and up till now that is what has kept me alive. You're going to have to.. proof to me that my husband is still in there." She said carefully. He may be an alien, but she was still Torchwood. And she needed him.

Nelsons gun was lowered easily with some explanation.

His vow that he'd get her children back is all she needed and she nodded in response. A deal had been sealed. She didn't counter him when he ordered the German to be kept alive for now. She took her place by his side at the map, scanning over it. Where could be well placed sharp shooters.

He looked back at the map and the device. "I'm usually a pacifist. But these men have taken my children. And when I return from the Devil's Punchbowl?"

"I will show them war."

That did throw her off her rockers and she staggered slightly, wide green eyes staring up at the profile of the man next to her. His children? And the way he had said it.. that was Robert who would rather commit genocide then allow his own kids to die.

She shakily turned back to the map. Her body wanted to touch him so badly as she had only merely minutes ago, missing the warm embrace of Robert that kept her sane in these hours.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes again. She had to get them back.

"I just want them back, that's all I ask. Then I'll think about murdering every single one of them."

[The Meddler]

"You're like the Doctor, you're a Time Lord." She stated without hesitation, she knew it was true, she easily put two and two together.

"Yes. I am." He gripped the desk for support. "Something like him, anyway."

He tried to convince her once more that he and Robert were the same person. Clearly, she didn't believe him. He tried not to think of Patricia, of how that had gone. This was different, he knew. The Dreamweaver was a Time Lord as well, just still under the Arch. Eventually, she would understand.

She had to.

He couldn't face losing her.

---

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes again. She had to get them back.

"I just want them back, that's all I ask. Then I'll think about murdering every single one of them."

He ached to hold her then, to tell her that it would be all right. But she wasn't ready, not yet. She didn't understand.

"Murder?" he asked, his voice calm. "Oh. Oh, no. No. They won't get off that easily." He eyed the map for a moment. "They're not going to die. I won't let them."

The odd, burning eyes turned back towards Captain Nelson. "When I return, I will need a machine shop. And an electronics shop."

He straightened the lapels of his jacket, eyed the .45 with some distaste, and walked towards the door. Then he staggered, arms flailing wildly as he clutched the frame for support. He leaned there for a moment, gathering strength.

He pushed himself upright, then lurched forward to one of the display cases. Using the butt of the pistol, he shattered the top and withdrew one of the blackthorn shillelaghs on display.

"I never thought I'd actually need one of these."

Leaning on the cane, he wobbled towards the door. "I'll be back," he said. "By twelve thirty. And I'll need those shops by then."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

His reply to her wanting to commit mass murder was not something she expected. Usually Robert had always looked at her with a mix of fear and worry when she said such things, she knew he didn't like murder unless he had no other choice. But his reply "Murder? Oh. Oh, no. No. They won't get off that easily. They're not going to die. I won't let them." was something that both surprised and inspired her. She nodded and turned with him back to the map.

"When I return, I will need a machine shop. And an electronics shop."

"If it's night I can break into one easily enough" She replied after him. She watched carefully as he walked towards the door and was within an instant at his side, her hand coming up to support him by his elbow as he leaned against the door. It had been a reflex really, and she only realised that she was touching him again when she was up close to that face again. She shook her head stubbornly.

"You're hurt." She said quietly. As if that was an explanation for her behaviour.

When he used the back of his gun (well, Roberts gun) to smash the display case to take out some sort of walking cane she hoped the owner of this building was well insured. She heard him half swear under his breath "I never thought I'd actually need one of these." but she decided to watch what he was going to do. Then, her eyebrow rose as he opted to leave, on his own.

Leaning on the cane, he wobbled towards the door. "I'll be back," he said. "By twelve thirty. And I'll need those shops by then."

"I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not. They're my children too and I want to see what those bastards did to them. How can you think to even take them on alone when you can barely stand on your own legs?" She nodded towards the cane.

She placed her hands in her hips, daring him to go against her word. She wouldn't listen regardless. She was coming with him.

[The Meddler]

"You're hurt," Celia said quietly, helping him to stand as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Not... not precisely," the Meddler answered. "There were complications when I deArched." Using her shoulder and the wall, he pulled himself upright. "Biodatic contamination."

"An' an accidental stowaway," he said in the Irish voice.

"That too. Combined, the two events are putting a significant strain on me. Ideally, I'd want time to rest, and to work out a solution."

"We have nae time tae rest," he said in the Irish voice. "Nae if'n we're gonna rescue my granbabies."

"I know."

He hammered in the top of the diplay case, pulled out a blackthorn shillelagh, and began to head for the door.

"I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not. They're my children too and I want to see what those bastards did to them. How can you think to even take them on alone when you can barely stand on you own legs?" She nodded towards the cane, hands on hips, a gesture he had seen as both the Meddler and as Robert.

He smiled and shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of trying to forbid you," he said with a laugh. "You're only obedient when it suits your fancy." He opened the door and bowed low, making a grand sweeping gesture. "Shall we?"

---

Robert - the Meddler - whoever he was - had insisted on driving.

"Do you want to make sure we get there on time? Then give me the keys."

He tore through the slick, icy streets of Belfast at nearly 120 miles per hour. He drove without apparent consideration of the road conditions, of speed limits, of traffic signs or laws, and without lights. ("They focus you on such a limited field of vision," he'd said.)

Four times they nearly died. He blasted through a four-way stop just as two cars had passed, missing thier bumpers by scant centimeters. A lorry nearly sideswiped them as they merged without warning. The Hudson Custom Eight fishtailed and nearly spun out of control as he took a hairpin curve at 90 mph. A car breaked in front of them, and barely made a left turn in time to evade them.

Robert - the Meddler - whoever he was - didn't even seem to notice. For as much concern as he was showing, it might have been a lazy Sunday afternoon drive. "Too bad we don't have more time," he said as the car roared out of Dublin and into the Mangerton Mountains, "I could really go for a large coffee right now."

Finally, he allowed the car to roll to a halt at the side of a narrow road - more of a cowpath, really. "Fifteen minutes to local midnight," he said, not checking a watch.

The only light was starlight, and the first quarter moon, and the gold and silver flame in his eyes. "Clearly, they chose this location because of its remoteness - a human, leaving as soon as the call ended, would barely make it in time. And they'd be able to see if more than one vehicle was coming."

The Meddler opened the door, not seeming to notice the frigid air. "Let's get this over with and give them the box." He pulled himself out of the car and stretched. "Then we can go back to Dublin and get our kids back."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She had no idea what he was talking about, biodatic contamination? What? She shook her head, this was aTime Lord and she was once again reminded by that. She didn't know what to do really, she was at loss when he speaking in Irish again. Was there another presence in his body? She stepped back as he regained his balance again, biting her lip. Her feelings were so at conflict she wanted to clutch her hair and scream. This looked, sounded and smelled like her husband. Yet at the same time so much not. Some part of her wanted to grief the loss of her husband, yet how could she when he was right there and alive?

"We have nae time tae rest," he said in the Irish voice. "Nae if'n we're gonna rescue my granbabies."

"I know.""

"Granbabies? You just said they were your children!" She exclaimed, frustrated. She looked like she wanted to scream, her hair up in tangles with mascara stains down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking, it was all becoming too much. But she had to get her children back at her own cost if she had to.

_________________________________________

She had argued him at first, saying he wasn't fit to drive because really he wasn't. He could barely stand. But he had the keys in his hands before she had any idea what was going on. How had he done that?

And she rued that fact she hadn't snatched them back, or insisted more to drive, or tied his hands up to the seat, or throw him in the trunk. She was clutching to the door bar of the car, screaming as yet another car missed by a hair. She was praying to God now, something she had not done in a long time, but now it seemed direly appropriate.

"YOU'RE INSANE!" She screeched as they made another ninety degree turn and she felt herself press painfully down into the seat. She wanted to thanks any god that might be out there for installing those bloody seatbelts.

"CORRECTION YOU'RE CRACKAJACKER INSANE! That'sanelderlYLADYYY!!" She screamed again and closed her eyes when they just missed the elderly lady by an inch.

When the car finally came to a halt she was shaking and white as a sheet, her breathing laboured as the adrenalin was still surging through her body. And she found only one appropriate relief.

Leaning over she opened the car door on his side before he could. But instead of leaning in for some intimacy, she leaned back in her seat, brought her legs up to press both her heeled feet against his side and mercilessly shove him out of the car.

"We're you trying to kill me! I'm pregnant you moron!" She hissed seethingly and rudely shut the car door behind him. She emerged perhaps a minute later. Her face was in check again, the dark lines of mascara under her eyes gone, her skin evened out and her lips a bright scarlet again. Everything was finished off with a look of murder in her eyes.

With a look she dared him to say anything.

"Let's get this over with and give them the box. Then we can go back to Dublin and get our kids back."

"Don't expect it to be that easy. It's never that easy with those Germans."

[The Meddler]

The Meddler found himself propelled forcefully into the snow.

"We're you trying to kill me! I'm pregnant you moron!" She hissed seethingly and rudely shut the car door behind him.

It took a little effort to regain his feet - his overloaded nervous system and oddly-reassembled body saw to that. But by the time Celia emerged from the passenger side of the car he was leaning against the trunk, brushing snow from his sport coat.

She'd taken time to touch up her mask, he noticed. And she did not look happy.

"I know you're pregnant," he said. "That's why I was careful. I could have shaved another five minutes off our travel time by cutting the safety margins."

He look got darker, and he threw his free hand up in surrender. "Right. Whatever. Let's get this over with and give them the box. Then we can go back to Dublin and get our kids back."

"Don't expect it to be that easy," she seethed. "It's never that easy with those Germans."

"Ja, frau," agreed a voice from the darkness. A figure could just be made out in the treeline.

The Meddler glanced towards it with mild interest. "Ah. I see you gentlemen are early as well."

"You were told to come alone, Herr Goodall."

He smiled. "Surely the four of you wouldn't deny a mother? She was concerned for her children."

"Then Frau Goodall should have remained at home. There are... penalties for disobeying our instructions." Silence for a moment. "Since she is so concerned for the welfare of her children, she may choose which one will be punished for her disobedience."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"I know you're pregnant," he said. "That's why I was careful. I could have shaved another five minutes off our travel time by cutting the safety margins."

Cutting off the safety margins? Was this guy for real? She gave him a withering look and on instant he brought his hands up in surrender. Good.

"Right. Whatever. Let's get this over with and give them the box. Then we can go back to Dublin and get our kids back."

Did he just whatever her? In normal circumstances she would have given him a good slap upside the head, but there were more important things on mind. Like her her children.

"Don't expect it to be that easy," she seethed. "It's never that easy with those Germans."

Her head turned towards the German voice that came from the darkness from the right of her. Her eyes narrowed instantly, a snarl coming to her face.

"You were told to come alone, Herr Goodall."

He smiled. "Surely the four of you wouldn't deny a mother? She was concerned for her children."

"Then Frau Goodall should have remained at home. There are... penalties for disobeying our instructions." Silence for a moment. "Since she is so concerned for the welfare of her children, she may choose which one will be punished for her disobedience."

Her face was blank for a moment, a well shaped eyebrow raising slowly. Anger started boiling again to the point of rage and her eyes darkened as she took slow measured steps towards the German. She came up close to the man enough that he started taking a step back.

"First, you take my children from their care taker, then you expect me not to show up. The question really comes to mind, Herr. Are you stupid?"

She had his walky talky in her hand, taken from the holster on his belt when she had gotten up close enough. Before the man could say anything she used the heavy device to smash it across his face, bones and teeth breaking on impact. She dropped the broken device in the snow next to the man's head after he fell to the ground, bleeding.

"Now, kindly tell me where my children are, so I can fetch them?" She asked lowly as the blood started staining the snow.

[The Meddler]

The Meddler knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was.

"Since she is so concerned for the welfare of her children, she may choose which one will be punished for her disobedience."

The Dreamweaver's rage was an elemental force. She stalked across the snow towards the speaker, unconcerned (no, he corrected himself, unaware) of the other three concealed within the treeline.

"First, you take my children from their care taker, then you expect me not to show up. The question really comes to mind, Herr. Are you ['i]stupid?"

She smashed him to the ground with his own walky-talky.

"Now, kindly tell me where my children are, so I can fetch them?"

There was a sort of stunned silence, and the other SS-G men cocked their rifles.

Time to do something, the Meddler decided.

"Gentlemen!" he called out, stepping forward. "That means you, and you, and you." He pointed towards each of them in turn, noting their shock with dry amusement.

He leaned on the shilleleigh. "Are you aware, gentlement, that what you call 'fundamental particles' are actually the four-dimensional shadow of vibrating eleven-dimensional structures called 'branes'?"

The Germans, already thrown off guard by the seemingly crazed woman and the fact that he seemed able to see them, looked at each other questioningly.

"No," the Meddler continued, "You aren't. Human scientists of this epoch won't begin to become aware of that for another thirty years. But it's true."

He smiled. "Now, anything that vibrates has a wavelength. Anything that has a wavelength, can have that wavelength altered by interaction with a different wavelength. That's the whole secret of our 'sonic' technology."

A frown. "I don't have a sonic screwdriver on me, though."

The smile returned, broad and a little mad. "Aye, but I can sing," he said in the Irish voice.

The song was like nothing on Earth. It was a wordless song, music set to an alien scale, and he sang counterpoint to himself. As he sang, the white-gold flames danced around him in rhythm with the music. The three Germans stared, jaws agape. Then they dropped their rifles, hands clutching at their ears, screaming in agony as blood seeped between their fingers.

Somehow, the Meddler worked the screaming into the alien song. And then it stopped with a crackling and sickly popping sound and a burst of heat as four-tenths of one percent of the carbon atoms in their body spontaneously transformed into silicon. Three petrified, red-hot German corpses crashed heavily to the suddenly slushy floor of the forest.

The Meddler sagged to his knees, ashen-faced, one hand gripping his cane and the other on the ground supporting him.

"How did ye do that?" he asked in the Irish voice.

"I didn't do it," he answered himself. "You did the heavy lifting. I just showed you how."

"Ye were singin' too, Robin."

"It seemed the thing to do." He looked up and gave the Dreamweaver (Celia he reminded himself) a wan smile. "Well? finish questioning the man. We've got children to rescue."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She had been careless and stupid herself, the moment she heard the cocking of guns in the bushes she knew she had made a grave error and instantly she lunged to the side, landing behind a tree half covered in snow, but no matter.

But the gunfire never came.

"Gentlemen!" he called out, stepping forward. "That means you, and you, and you."

Was he mad? How could he even see them. She hissed at him to hide but it went ignored. Instead, he rambled on about something she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Are you aware, gentlement, that what you call 'fundamental particles' are actually the four-dimensional shadow of vibrating eleven-dimensional structures called 'branes'?"

She just looked at him incredulously, what was he doing? Was he trying to divert attention enough for them to get close and take the rifles? She stood up to lean against the tree, out of sight from the Germans but within sight for the Meddler to see.

"No," the Meddler continued, "You aren't. Human scientists of this epoch won't begin to become aware of that for another thirty years. But it's true."

He smiled. "Now, anything that vibrates has a wavelength. Anything that has a wavelength, can have that wavelength altered by interaction with a different wavelength. That's the whole secret of our 'sonic' technology."

A frown. "I don't have a sonic screwdriver on me, though."

The smile returned, broad and a little mad. "Aye, but I can sing," he said in the Irish voice

Her breath had been caught in her through, a look on her face between fright, confusion and bordering panic. Singing? Was he trying to get himself killed? She was on the verge of pushing off the tree and duck with him behind the car.

But she ended up screaming her lungs out when a sound filled her ears that sounded like a combination of a thousand angry bean sídhe. She crumpled to her knees with her hands over her ears, all the muscles in her body tense as the sound went on, the sound that came from him. She pressed with her forehead into the cold snow, rocking back and forth to try and deal with the pain.

She was in agony, yes, but when the sound stopped with a crackling pop she raised her head slowly. A small trickle of red blood was running from her nose, one of the veins there popped from the stress of the screaming most likely.

The man she had just knocked down a minute ago laid there singed, he was still steaming even. When her head shot up to look at the others she found they had the similar fate.

She shut her eyes, trying to pull herself together before she looked up at what was the image of her husband. But no, now she knew it wasn't just her husband in there. It was a Time Lord. She realised now why the SS-G did everything in their power to get a hold of this Doctor.

She got to her feet. "You.. that.. they.." She stuttered, her face white as a sheet as she looked at him after he seemed to get up from where he had fallen to his knees. She hadn't heard him speak to himself again, she had been too consumed by the steaming corpses now melting the snow around them.

"Well? finish questioning the man. We've got children to rescue."

"You.. cooked.. him.." She murmured out, her eyes still wide. She was looking at him with a mixture of horror, shock and wonderment.

[The Meddler]

The Meddler pushed himself to his feet again (I'm doing this a little too frequently for my tastes), and made his shakey way towards Celia. Towards where she knelt in the snow with a face full of pain, hands clenched over her ears. He felt his hearts skip a beat at that - she shouldn't have been affected. He'd been so careful...

"Celia, love," he said, the term of endearment coming to his lips by sheer reflex. "Are you all right?"

She got to her feet. "You.. that.. they.." She stuttered, her face white as a sheet.

"Don't..." he said, his voice soft, "There's no need to be afraid." Finally, he looked into the trees, unable to stand the shock and fear in her eyes. "Well?" he sighed, "Finish questioning the man. We've got children to rescue."

"You.. cooked.. him.." She murmured.

He turned sharply at that, eyes flicking to the dead German, and then widening in horror as he saw the blood trickling from her nose. With a cry of anger and self-loathing, he swung the cane in an overhand arc and smashed it into the petrified German corpse once.

"Stupid!" he roared.

Twice.

"Old!"

Three times.

"Man!"

A fragment of silicate flesh chipped off, hissing into the snow. He fell to his knees beside it, shaking. "You shouldn't have been hurt," he whispered. "You should never have been hurt, and he should still be alive to answer our questions..." He glared at the corpse. "Even if we take his head back, there's too much damage. We'd never get anything out of him."

And then he lunged, grabbing something from the ground. "Is it... yes!" Once again, he was levering himself off the ground with the aid of the cane, clutching the broken walky-talky in his free hand. There was a look of triumph on his face. "We still have this! And we can use it to find them!"

Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, he stepped close and wiped the blood from Celia's face. "Here," he said, placing it in her hand. "Use this to apply pressure until the blood flow stops. And get in the car."

He shuffled towards it himself. "We've got to get back to Belfast, and quickly! Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus, and we must outrace it!"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"Celia, love," he said, the term of endearment coming to his lips by sheer reflex. "Are you all right?"

She had stilled when she heard that, it sounded.. it sounded so much like her Robert that the tears sprang into her eyes. But she angrily shook them back, this was the Meddler. There was a good chance she'd never see her husband back again. But, as she looked up slowly, taking in the face that had come close to her now. It was so hard..

"Don't..." he said, his voice soft, "There's no need to be afraid."

"I'm not.. afraid.." She wanted to sound hard, stubborn but she was sickened by how fragile it came from her lips. She shook her head and shakily got to her feet, not noticing the small trickle of blood coming down from her nose, caused by the sudden stress on the fragile veins there during the singing.. or whatever that was.

"Only.. only Sidhe know how to sing like that." She said carefully. The way that had sounded had been exactly like the songs she had heard when she was small, specially when she had been close to a stone circle.

Yet, the Meddler suddenly exploded with anger and she didn't understand why. He grunted out words as he hit the corpse of the German and she took a step back. She had just seen what his fury could do and she wasn't sure if she could survive another wave like that. But then, she finally heard what he was actually saying.

"You shouldn't have been hurt," he whispered. "You should never have been hurt, and he should still be alive to answer our questions..." He glared at the corpse. "Even if we take his head back, there's too much damage. We'd never get anything out of him."

She paused for a moment, some part of her afraid if she got too close he would explode like that again. "I.. I'm not hurt, Meddler. The veins in my nose.. they're.. they're fragile.." She said carefully and it was true, she had suffered from nose bleeds more often, often spontaneously but usually they showed up under stress.

But he had already found the walky-talky she had used the smash the man's face priorly and started raving like a kid who had just found his best toy, a look of triumph on his face.

"We still have this! And we can use it to find them!"

"We can?" She asked carefully, but she saw what he had done with the tracking device hooked up to the phone. She believed him instantly that if he could invent something, he would. The man was a genius, if not completely bonkers.

She gasped as he was suddenly close to her again, when had he gotten there? She held her breath as he wiped the blood from her nose, the act intimate. A blush came up to her cheeks as she nodded mutely when he placed the handkerchief in her hand and commanded her to get in the car, his tone not tolerating any objections. Their hands had brushed that instant. She closed her eyes at their closeness. He smelled like Robert, but with an extra exotic ingredient added.

She guided him back to the car as he shuffled over to it, she felt it was the least she could do. Really it was just an excuse to touch him again. She tried to fight it, but at the moment she needed these little comforts to keep her from breaking down.

"We've got to get back to Belfast, and quickly! Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus, and we must out race it!"

She got into the passenger seat again, taking a deep breath as she put herself in the seatbelt again. Even though she hated this Time Lord's style of driving, she had to agree he was faster then her, and time was of the essence here. Perhaps it would help if she just closed her eyes this time.

"Try not hit hit anyone on the read, please" She asked a bit queezily

[The Meddler]

"Try not hit hit anyone on the read, please" She asked a bit queezily.

"Of course not," he said with a grin.

He made good on that promise, at least. But the engine roared, and the RPMs gauge on the dashboard constantly sat in the red, and at one point he circumvented a switchback by fishtailing the car off the side of the road and letting it drop to the road below. The rest of the ride was jarring, the shocks blown by the impact, but he made it in record time.

"It's all about understanding the tolerances," he'd said as the car bounced. "And I've been maintaining and tinkering with this vehicle for three years. Now hang on."

By the time the car squealed to a halt at the gated entrance of the Offices of the Ministry of Defense, less than half an hour had passed since they'd left the Devil's Punchbowl. He irritably waved his (Robert's?) MI-5 badge at the gate guard, and drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as the guard thoroughly checked the ID of both passengers. When the gate opened, the car jackrabbited through as soon as there was a millimeter's clearance on either side.

Oddly, despite his clearly mounting impatience, he paused to try and open Celia's door. And then he forced himself to a fast-paced walk, leaning on his cane and other cars and then walls for support.

Captain Nelson met them inside. "You're back already?" he asked, sounding surprised. "I didn't expect you for..."

"Machine shop!" snapped the Meddler, "Now!"

"...at least an hour," the Captain finished, "And I am not accustomed to-"

The Meddler wheeled on him. "Every second that passes increases the chance that the SS-G will notice that something has gone wrong, which increases the odds that one or both of my children will be maimed or murdered! I do not, therefore, have time for your pleasantries! Where is the machine shop?"

The Captain took a step back. "In the motor pool. That way."

The Meddler stalked off in the indicated direction, as fast as he could manage with cane and wall for support.

"I took the liberty of having the electronics shop you requested moved into it," the Captain added.

"Thank you!" the Meddler called without looking back.

Captain Nelson shook his head, and looked at Celia. "This is no doubt a foolish question, but... how are you all right?"

---

Twenty-two minutes. That's all it took for the Meddler to build whatever it was that he was building. Twenty-two minutes.

It took another seven to run the aerials up to the roof of the motor pool. Five of them, with cables running down the sides of the building and in through windows.

So, twenty-nine minutes after he'd started work, the Meddler sat in front of a desk with a map of Belfast and it's surroundings - detailed to the point that it showed every house - stretched out. He'd finished swilling down an entire pot of coffee that had just finished perking, drinking it straight from the pot without flinching. "Yes, I know," he'd said to the stunned looks. "Wartime rationing. I'll replace it as soon as the TARDIS arrives."

Now, he had compass and protractor and ink pen ready to go. "All of this is, in essence, technology you already had," he said. "We're just tuning five receivers to the frequency on our friend's walky-talky, and we're going to check the compass bearing of the single greatest signal strength. And then we'll quintangulte, and we'll bring the pain down on whatever location is using that frequency."

The next several minutes were tense, with men calling out compass bearings, and the Meddler tracing lines on the map. Finally, he cackled. "Number 5 Seacliff Road in Corrstown! Fourteen and a half miles away. We can be there in about fifteen minutes."

He pushed himself up from the desk, and staggered. "Celia, love? Shall we go?" Then he looked at Captain Nelson. "You and your men are welcome to come along as well."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She just decided to close her eyes, concentrate on keeping her stomach contents down and holding onto the car seat for dear life as they raced across Belfast again.

"It's all about understanding the tolerances," he'd said as the car bounced. "And I've been maintaining and tinkering with this vehicle for three years. Now hang on."

"I am!" Tolerances her behind her lips pressed together as she felt the car lurch again and she felt part of her stomach's contents come up half way her esophagus, only barely managing to keep it down.

When they arrived, the moment he opened her car door she launched out and stumbled for the closest nearby bushes, throwing up to her hearts content with unsuppressed retching sounds. She held up her hands, feeling him behind her, she didn't want to hear how he drove carefully. She just wanted her stomach's content gone at the moment, the stress from the entire day coming out with it.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she soon enough straightened, her skin looking a little less green now. She needed to rinse her mouth.

"Let's go"

_____________________________________________________


She decided not to butt in as the Meddler as good as snapped at the Captain for the machine shop. The Captain gave her a desperate stare but she just shook her head.

"Every second that passes increases the chance that the SS-G will notice that something has gone wrong, which increases the odds that one or both of my children will be maimed or murdered! I do not, therefore, have time for your pleasantries! Where is the machine shop?"

"Just.. just do as he says, Captain Nelson" She said carefully. She might not be sure if this man was still the husband she knew, but by what she had seen in the woods just minutes earlier she was sure this man could get her children back. And that was what was most important to her.

Captain Nelson shook his head, and looked at Celia. "This is no doubt a foolish question, but... how are you all right?"

"The safety of my children comes before my comfort, Captain Nelson" She said quietly. She was sure how she was all right either to be honest. Then again, the Captain hadn't just seen her puking escapade outside. He probably would by morning.

___________________________________________________


They were agonising twenty two minutes. She had first offered to help, but he hadn't even heard her. He was that taken up into his work. So, instead she sat down on a car that was up against the wall and just watched and waited as the man worked away like a maniac for twenty-two minutes. She kept track with her watch, why she didn't know.

The smell of coffee was strong in the air by the time he had finished. She had taken one sniff at the brew and decided it would not be a good idea. She didn't want to be awake for the upcoming three nights.

"All of this is, in essence, technology you already had," he said. "We're just tuning five receivers to the frequency on our friend's walky-talky, and we're going to check the compass bearing of the single greatest signal strength. And then we'll quintangulte, and we'll bring the pain down on whatever location is using that frequency."

She actually understood what he was saying for a change. She nodded and got up from the chair to stand beside him again. This.. thing he created looked even more surreal then the thing Robert had created by his influence. Her eyes looked up at the man's profile again, she knew by now he was an alien. But what scared her is that even though he did not act like her husband even in the slightest, by God she still loved him.

Luckily, he did not notice her, too focussed on the map before him as he turned the device up to work. They were tense moments.

Then he cackled and she felt her heart leap.

"Number 5 Seacliff Road in Corrstown! Fourteen and a half miles away. We can be there in about fifteen minutes."

He pushed himself up from the desk, and staggered. "Celia, love? Shall we go?" Then he looked at Captain Nelson. "You and your men are welcome to come along as well."

Here we go again But she squared her shoulders and nodded to the Meddler. She was ready. She'd puke together all of Brittain if it meant she'd get her children back safely.

"Yes, let's go, love"

She didn't know why she called him that. She didn't want to think about it either. Instead, she made her way back to the car. On the way there she grabbed two full automatic guns from the storage room with extra ammo slung over her shoulder. Once to the car she disposed of them in the trunk.

She wasn't going unprepared this time.