Torchwood 1944: The New Lords of Time

[The Meddler]

The pain flared in his skull as Celia staggered from the car, retching. He wanted to try and comfort her, but all he could do was grip the side of the car as his vision greyed and blurred.

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"

He looked at her for a moment, quiet and a little sad. "The last time you did that," he commented, "I carried you six city blocks for medical care." He gripped the car door for support. "Now I can barely walk."

---

"The safety of my children comes before my comfort, Captain Nelson" She said quietly.

"Celia..." Captain Nelson said quietly. "I..." he swallowed, and tried again. "He was my friend, and you know I would move heaven and earth to help you two. But..."

He paused, and watched the thing in Robert's skin shuffle down the hall, and sighed. "Just, be sure."

---

"Yes, let's go, love"

The words warmed his hearts, and he watched fondly as she armed herself. And then the pain flared in his skull again, and the world went grey and black. He struggled for balance, and realized distantly that the cement of the motor pool floor was approaching him.

---

Captain Nelson watched in surprise as the thing in Robert's skin collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He crashed into the ground, arms and legs limp, the blackthorn cane clattering across the ground.

He hesitated, then lept to the man's side. A trickle of orange-red blood flowed from a split lip, and a quick check of his pulse revealed that it was a) too slow and b) doubled up.

Robert's eyes opened. "Ye've got ta make him stop," he said, distantly, in the Irish-accented voice. "He's killing himself."

His expression changed. "I... can do... this..." he said. His face hardened in concentration, and red and gold flame danced around him as he hummed softly to himself.

A minute passed, and he finally sat up. He looked gaunt and haggard, but he struggled to his feet. "I can't stop," he said. "Not while they've got Ken and Morgaine."

He staggered, then picked up his cane in a stiff, claw-like grip. "Let's go."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She stopped in her tracks, her back stiffening when she heard his words.

"The last time you did that," he commented, "I carried you six city blocks for medical care." He gripped the car door for support. "Now I can barely walk."

Her head twitched lightly with the sudden flare of pian in her head, her back turned to him as she stood in the door opening. Her eyes were tightly shut as the images flashed. A porcelain toilet bowl, her half draped over it sickly. And all she could see was golden mist. She released a shuddered breath as the visions stopped and the flaring headache subsided slowly.

What was that?

She was frightened.

So she quickly made her way inside.

The happenings inside had been brief, the Captain had expressed his concerns for her but she had squared her shoulders. She didn't need weakness right now. They had to get their children back.

She had the guns already in the trunk when she heard something fall to the ground. When she looked in the direction it came from, her eyes widened at the sight of him unconscious on the snow and she immediately made her way to his side. Lifting his head in her arms, she slapped his face lightly.

"Come on, stay with me here" She hissed. Fainting was bad, specially in the cold snow. The body could go into shock easily. Then, his eyes opened.

"Ye've got ta make him stop," he said, distantly, in the Irish-accented voice. "He's killing himself."

She sucked in a breath, that Irish voice again talking as if he wasn't talking about himself. "What do you mean, killing?" She asked desperately, shaking his head slightly to keep him awake.

His expression changed. "I... can do... this..." he said. His face hardened in concentration, and red and gold flame danced around him as he hummed softly to himself.

She shut her eyes, shutting back the tears threatening to fall as the gold and red flames surrounded her husband again. She knew, again that the fire wouldn't her her, even as it licked up and around her skin. It more felt like a warmth from a hearth. Her hands clutched around his shoulders.

And she felt helpless as he sat up again, got up like nothing happened.

"What did you mean, killing you?"

Yet again, she was ignored.

"I can't stop," he said. "Not while they've got Ken and Morgaine."

He staggered, then picked up his cane in a stiff, claw-like grip. "Let's go."

She bit back a cry of anger before she cried out at him.

"What did you mean, killing you? ANSWER ME!" She screamed.

By God, she wasn't losing him too.

[The Meddler]

"What did you mean, killing you?"

"I can't stop," he said. "Not while they've got Ken and Morgaine."

He staggered, then picked up his cane in a stiff, claw-like grip. "Let's go."

She bit back a cry of anger before she cried out at him.

"What did you mean, killing you? ANSWER ME!" She screamed.

The Meddler stopped, and looked back. "We don't have time, now," he said. Then he sighed. "Get in the car. I'll explain on the way."

He limped to the car and pulled himself into the driver's seat.

---

"This is mildly complicated," he said as the car screamed along the coast at 98 mph. "I'll try to keep it simple, but... well... it isn't."

He weaved between two trucks.

"About ten years ago, we both went through the Chameleon Arch, transforming us mentally and biologically into humans. The key to unlocking that transformation, for me anyway, was stored in that ring I always wore."

A short burst of acceleration to avoid an oncoming car.

"The problem is, that ring also stored your mother's psychoenergetic matrix - her soul, if you will. Although that's a loaded term. There's a long story there, I didn't do it, and I'll explain later."

Blind curve, tires squealing.

"So, when I transformed back, I seem to have picked up biological traits from your mother as well. My body isn't responding properly."

For a moment they were off the road, avoiding two cars passing each other.

"That would be fine. Disconcerting, but recoverable. We're highly adaptive. But your mother's mind is living in my brain as well. And even the brain of a Time Lord isn't adapted for two living minds at once."

The engine roared as they hit a straight-away.

"The end result is that we're burning my neural pathways out. We can keep healing the damage, but we have to find a more permanent solution. And soon. Or the constant flow of psion, huon, and artron energies through my nervous system will literally burn my brain out."

They turned, hard.

"And then I'll regenerate. And my body will put itself back together in a fashion that can survive what I'm going through. But it will probably assimilate both of us into a permanent gestalt. And that will kill me and your mother as surely as if we just perished."

The engine roared again as they weaved through city streets.

"Ideally, I could relax and figure out a solution. Find a permanent host for your mother. But we don't have that luxury."

The brakes squealed as he brought them skidding to a halt in front of a low bayside building.

"Because our children are inside that building. And because I will die before I allow anything more to happen to them."

He pushed open the driver's door and levered himself out. Working with clumsy fingers, he checked that the .45 was loaded.

"I hate these things," he said, shoving the pistol back into its holster. Then he looked across the roof of the car, and smiled. "Now, shall we go and rescue our children?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She again held onto the seat for dear life. She decided that keeping her eyes shut and just concentrating on her stomach would be better for her then the constant death scare as he made another impossible maneuver. This way, she could also better concentrate to what he was saying, it seemed important. She had been listening him go on, till he hit a particular sentence.

"About ten years ago, we both went through the Chameleon Arch, transforming us mentally and biologically into humans. The key to unlocking that transformation, for me anyway, was stored in that ring I always wore."

"Wait, hold on" She gasped "I am like you?" She choked out, momentarily her green eyes looking as she opened them at him with a combination of shock and dismay.

Dismay that her life would have been a lie.

"The problem is, that ring also stored your mother's psychoenergetic matrix - her soul, if you will. Although that's a loaded term. There's a long story there, I didn't do it, and I'll explain later."

"That voice.. that voice from that ring is my mother?! My parents died when I was young! You are pulling my leg!" She cried, but she recalled often that when she had seen that ring glow at night, she could hear voices from it. But she had often just just turned over and denied what she had heard. She had always forgotten by morning.

It only alarmed her just now.

"I heard you, I heard you and that woman at night, while you-Robert was asleep. The ring would start glowing at night and then I'd hear you. I always forgot by morning. Why did I forgot, I never forget such things!"

She shut up again as he explain what having her mother in his body was doing to him. She could hardly grasp the concept, but she did understand it. And to be honestly, she had no idea how she could help him either. I mean she had been in Torchwood for nearly fifteen years now and she had never encountered anything even closely to this.

"Ideally, I could relax and figure out a solution. Find a permanent host for your mother. But we don't have that luxury."

The brakes squealed as he brought them skidding to a halt in front of a low bayside building.

"Because our children are inside that building. And because I will die before I allow anything more to happen to them."

"I guess that means we'll just have to get Ken and Morgaine back.. quickly." She said softly and she finally gasped a breath she didn't know she had been holding as the car came to a stop. She opened her eyes and looked up at the low bayside building.

She had to agree with him though, she too would rather die then have anything happen to her children. She looked around, waited till Rob-no, The Meddler had made sure his gun was loaded. She opened the glove compartment of the car and pulled out another .45 handgun and handed it to him. What she really was looking for was the small fabric slip on shoes ballerina shoes that were behind it. She slipped off her heels and pulled them on, with these she could move around as good as soundless, she just had to avoid the snow from keeping her toes freezing off.

"Now, shall we go and rescue our children?"

"Yes, let's." She said lowly and carefully opened the car door.

[The Meddler]

He was grateful for her questions - they gave him something else to think about besides the bursting pain in his skull.

"Wait, hold on" She gasped "I am like you?" She choked out.

He discarded the three pedantic and highly technical answers that came to mind. "Not precisely, but close enough for the moment." He gritted his teeth, and slalomed the car. "Your father was a Time Lord, like me. Your mother was one of the Sidhe. You are something new in the Spiral Politic."

He moved on to explaining the Keystone, and the nature of the ring.

"That voice.. that voice from that ring is my mother?! My parents died when I was young! You are pulling my leg!" She cried.

"No, I'm not," he said. "There is yet another long story there, but in essence your parents did die when you were young. And then your father captured your mother's energetic matrix and embedded it in the ring."

A pause.

"I know I'm just creating more questions than I'm answering. I'm probably rambling, too. I do that."

"I heard you, I heard you and that woman at night, while you-Robert was asleep. The ring would start glowing at night and then I'd hear you. I always forgot by morning. Why did I forgot, I never forget such things!"

"It's the nature of the Keystone. It strives not to be noticed, until it needs to be noticed. It has a perception filter embedded in it - think of it as an aura that makes you just happen not to look at it, and to forget that you were thinking about it."

The explanation turned to the fact that his current situation was literally killing him.

"I guess that means we'll just have to get Ken and Morgaine back.. quickly." She said softly.

"Yes," he agreed.

Finally, they arrived at the building. He massaged his aching forehead as he waited for the Dreamweaver - no, for Celia - to get ready. He tried to focus, tried to see the probability lines, but the pain was too great. He'd have to trust to luck on this.

He hated trusting to luck. He preferred to manufacture it.

"Now, shall we go and rescue our children?" he asked.

"Yes, let's." She said lowly and carefully opened the car door.

Concentrating, he drew on more of the artron-infused psion energies, strengthening his aching muscles and joints and suppressing the pain in his skull. Limned with silver and gold flame, he stalked across the silent street towards the door. His vision seemed to concentrate on that door, and he began to sing.

The door exploded inwards.

Several men were seated at a kitchen table, staring in shock at the gaping hole in the side of the building, at the red-headed woman with the Thompson SMG, and at the grey-suited man that seemed to be radiating a silver and gold aura.

"Mein Name ist der Meddler," the burning man said in clear, oddly-accented German. "Das ist meine Frau, die Dreamweaver. Gib mir meine Kinder, jetzt."

(OOC: Hopefully, Google Translate doesn't have the Meddler demanding to be given a toothpick. )

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

What they talked about was barely comprehensible for her mind. Apparently the ring had some sort of perception field on it (honestly, what was that anyway?). When they arrived at the building she decided to concentrate on the matters at hand, getting their children back. Putting on more sensible shoes and getting the Thompson gun from the trunk.

The Meddler looked terrible and she realised by now the fire was actually healing him, she colour coming back to his cheeks. Then, he sang again and this time she was not affected. It did blast a hole in the wall and surrounding door though, leaving a table full of Nazi SS-G sitting there with their mouths agape.

"Mein Name ist der Meddler," the burning man said in clear, oddly-accented German. "Das ist meine Frau, die Dreamweaver. Gib mir meine Kinder, jetzt."

She cocked the gun to empathize his point.

"Entweder er ist unversehrt, oder ihr werdet dafür bußen" She added lowly.


[[OOC: yay for having a friend close to the German border, good translater!]]

[The Meddler]

There was a terrible, expectant silence for the merest handfull of seconds. Then two of the SS-G, men with faster reflexes than the others, grabbed their pistols.

In the time it took them to put their hands on the butts of their guns, the Meddler drew his .45 and shot them both. Pistols flew from limp hands as their glenohumeral joints were reduced to bloody fragments of bone by the heavy caliber bullets.

"Wrong answer," he said coldly, raising his voice a little to be heard of the whimpers and screams of pain.

Gritting his teeth, drawing more power to suppress the pain in his head, he strode into the room. The gold and silver flames flickering around him threw madly dancing shadows across the room. "I will ask you again," he said in his oddly-accented German. "Where are our children?"

The four uninjured men at the table stared at the couple, then looked hesitantly at each other. "We..." one of them started to say.

"Quiet!" shouted another.

The Meddler shot that man's nose off. "You were saying?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over a fresh round of agonized screaming.

"They... they are downstairs."

He stared at the man for a moment, watching him sweat. Then he met the eyes of the others, the men who had remained silent, one after the other.

"Dóite agus loisceadh ort," he said, the harmonics in his voice strange.

The men stared back at him, puzzled. Fine, glowing lines of silver began to appear in their skin, and silver light began to stream from their eyes. In unison they began writhing and flopping, mouths open, their agony too great to allow them to even scream.

The Meddler looked back at the man that had spoken. "Lead the way."

(OOC: Care to narrate getting into the basement? I figure it's time for Celia to get to do something more than just watch the Meddler play around with Sidhe energy.)

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She tried to keep her amazement down at the reflexes this man had. She had been known to have a good, almost perfect shot but even she wasn't that fast. The hands of the SS-G who had tried to grab for their gun had been left a bloody mess of flesh and bones.

"Wrong answer," His answer was cold, but she followed him into the room, clutching the Thompson gun, her hands a bit sweaty. She was pale, a mix of anger and the fact that the man next to her was aflame again. He kept doing it more frequently now, meaning he had to heal more and more. She had to get a move on.

"I will ask you again," he said in his oddly-accented German. "Where are our children?"

Her hand clenched on the trigger, the nuzzle pointed at the men before her. One started to want to talk, but he was barked off by another man in another room to keep his mouth shut.

Next thing she knew that same made had a gaping hole where his nose was, his wails filling the room.

"They... they are downstairs."

She had wanted to bolt and find said basement the moment it was said from the man's lips. But what happened next made her feet nail down to the ground, her eyes widening.

"Dóite agus loisceadh ort,"

That sound, he was doing it again. And before her eyes their skin started breaking up in little silver lines. Lines close to what she saw weaving through his hand. But it was the intense bright light that came from their eyes, nostrils and mouth. The were writhing, their bodies shaking with pain as they couldn't even scream from the pain. She had to turn her eyes away from the gruesome sight, it was too much to bare for a mere human.

She understood why they had been so desperate for the Blue Box files. If this was what Time Lords were capable of. They didn't stand a chance. Finally, he turned back to the man that was still whimpering with pain, his eyes wide with horror as blood poured from where his nose was in large gushes.

"Lead the way."

But she wasn't going to wait for that. Instead she used something much more reliable; her mother instinct. She clutched the gun and strode off, stepping over the bleeding man. She looked around for a moment but went quite directly in a beeline for the kitchen where she knew would be an adjourning door to a basement.

She opened the door, there stood two men halfway the stairs, one just lighting a cigarette. Their eyes looked up in surprise at seeing her standing there. She had shot them both through the head before either of them could even grab for their guns, their bodies falling down the remainder of steps in a ragdoll fashion.

"MAMA!" Cried the voice of a young girl, Morgaine. It was soon joined in by a slightly lower one, her brother. Kenneth.

She had not even recalled jumping down the remainder of steps, she skidded to a halt before her children who looked pale, dirty and frightened. Tears came to her eyes as both children went straight for her, throwing themselves in her arms. She sank to the floor with them both clutched to her, the tears leaking from her eyes. Tears of relief, they were unharmed.

"Mama.." She heard Ken's small voice against the fabric of her dress. His small hands clutching it. His curly red hair was a mess with dirt caked into it.

"It's going to be all right, we're here now, daddy and I. You're safe." She whispered softly.

They were safe.

[The Meddler]

He watched the Dreamweaver - Celia, he had to remind himself - race towards the stairs. "Come with me," he ordered the German.

The man, pale and shaking now, obeyed.

There were gunshots ahead, two of them. The analytical portion of his mind recognized them as .45 rounds, not typical of Wehrmacht armament. But his pulses raced, and he forced himself to speed up. He staggered at a fast walk, leaning on the walls to support himself.

There were two bodies at the foot of the stairs. He heaved a sigh of relief as he saw they were both male, and both adults. Then he heard a cry of "MAMA!" from a small girl, echoed by the same cry from a small boy, and luminous silver tears of gratitude trailed from his eyes.

They were all right. His family would be safe. He almost wished he believed in a higher power he could thank.

He snapped his head back around to stare at the German. "How many others are there?"

"None!"

"Do not lie to me."

"I swear! There are no others!"

The Meddler's eyes blazed, and he began to sing again. The German started to cry out, then slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Satisfied, he began to attempt the stairs. On the third step, his legs gave way and he tumbled down the stairs. Despite the aches and pains, and the throbbing in his skull that even the healing wasn't suppressing, the sight of Celia holding their children made everything worth it.

"Daddy!" he heard the twins shout, and he forced himself to sit upright just in time to have them race into his arms. He felt them distantly, as if he were swathed in padding, and their voices were faint in his ears.

"We did it, Celia," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

And then the blackness rose up to meet him.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She gasped as she heard another body tumble down the stairs, frightened it was another German. But her eyes widened even further when she realised it was her husband falling down. She stood up, her children had already lunged themselves into his arms with a loud squeal of "Daddy!" before she walked over herself and knelt down beside him, putting his head in her lap.

"You've over taxed yourself, Meddler. But you gave me my children back, time I did something back for you" She whispered to the unconscious man, placing a kiss on his brow.

Ken beside her looked at his father with big frightened eyes, letting go of his mother tentatively before kneeling down by the Meddlers body, his small hand coming to hold his fathers larger ones. "Daddy..?" She heard him say softly, his voice slightly trembling. She checked his pulse in his neck, but what she felt there put more questions to her then answers. Oh yes, he had a pulse, but not something she ever felt before. She shook her head, no matter. They had to get hi upstairs.

"Morgaine, Ken dear. Daddy was so tired he fell asleep. How about we carry him upstairs so mummy can wake him up?"

The two children looked at her and gave her a smile, and she smiled back. Celia hoisted most of the weight, hooking her elbows under his armpits as she dragged him back up the stairs (kicking the Germans aside first rather roughly), the children each holding one to one leg.

Soon enough, she had him down on the rug. Morgaine and Ken were back holding onto him.

"Morgaine darling, go get a glass of water from the kitchen, would you?" The young girl with auburn hair and green eyes ran nodded quickly before she ran over to find the kitchen.

That heartbeat still puzzled her, but yet again.. this man wasn't human and she was reminded of that again. He felt cold compared to her own skin, but she wasn't sure if that was because he was cold from fatigue or because that was just the way Time Lords were.

Time Lord

She was broken from her thought as Morgaine came back balancing a jug of water in her hands, her green eyes focussed in concentration. "Mama, I've got the water!" She said and Celia quickly took the heavy jug from her. Both the children looked at her in expectation. Was daddy thirsty?

No she had a better idea to wake him up.

And dunked the content of the the jug on his face.

Both the children giggled with joy and she grinned and waited for him to regain his conciousness.

[The Meddler]

The darkness was cool. Inviting. Promising an end to the pain that even now wracked his unconscious body. An end to worry, to fear. All he would have to do is let go...

Faintly, as if from a great distance, he could feel lips brushe his forehead, then hands under his arms and tiny hands on his ankles.

He couldn't leave them. Not now that he'd found them. But he hurt so badly...

Éibhleann! he called, his thoughts shaking.

I'll no help ye heal yerself again, Robin, she called back, The bairns are safe, an' ye've almost killed us.

That's not what I want, he answered, mentally gritting his teeth against the pain. But I need your help still.

For what?

We are dying, Éibhleann. He gestured around their shared mindscape at the encroaching blackness. I've died before. I know the signs. And if my body dies, right now...

We both die the true death, she finished, and he could feel the alarm surging off her. What do ye need me to do?

Help me. Help me find a way out for us.

Something cold and wet splashed his face as she agreed, casuing him to gasp wildly as his eyes flew open. He reached out blindly, pulling the twins to his chest in what was simultaneously a loving bearhug and a desperate attempt to not let them see his eyes. Eyes that had become a raging inferno, pupils fully dilated and filled with a wierd unlight of dancing gold and amber and purple, whites that had become burning liquid silver.

The twins giggled and laughed, making "whee" sounds and throwing their tiny arms around his chest and hugging back.

"There must be a way, a path," he gasped out, his voice strained and filled with odd harmonics and simultaneously his voice and the strange Irish-accented voice. "For you, we'll find it."

Clutching his children close, liquid silver tears of pain streaming down his cheeks, he caught Celia's hands as well. "We'll find it," he repeated in the strange double voice. "For our" and here one voice said "children" and the other said "grandchildren". "And for you," and here one voice said "my love" and the other said "my daughter".

Their shared vision peered down a million probability lines, looking for a solution. Temporal path after temporal path was discarded as a dead end, and their hope faded as their options narrowed.

And then they found it. Their one chance. And the Meddler's mind recoiled from it.

Do ye want to live? Éibhleann demanded.

Yes, but...

Then I'll hear none of yer fears about 'maybes' an' 'might-be's' she snapped. Or aren't they worth the risk?

"Hold on..." the Meddler croaked weakly, holding his children tighter and gripping Celia's hands like a vice. "don't... let... go..."

He jerked, and suddenly they were falling through a chaotic kaliedoscope of moments.

---

Throne Hospital
Belfast

The doctor checked his watch, and shook his head sadly. "Record Miss Moira Blake's time of death as one thirteen a.m., December twenty-third," he said, carefully placing a fold of the sheet over the woman's face.

The nurse crossed herself, then recorded the information on the chart by the bedside. "Do you think they'll find who did it?"

The doctor shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that the Ministry of Defense is keenly intersted in..."

Four people suddenly appeared at the side of the bed - a haggard, unhealthy looking man, flat on his back and clutching two wide-eyed children, and a striking red-haired woman. Both the doctor and the nurse stared in shock.

"take... them..." the Meddler gasped, pushing the children towards Celia. As soon as they were out of his arms he began to burn with silver light. He began to sing, and as he did silver light (threaded ever so faintly by gold and amber) began to stream and pulse from his open mouth, from his nose, from his eyes. The streamers of light danced and twirled above Moira's still body, twisting and knotting together into an intricate sculpture, a winged woman made of silver filagree, blazing with the light of the full moon.

The doctor crossed himself, eyes full of awe, and the nurse sank to her knees with her hands clasped. Kenneth stared, open mouthed, and Morgaine tugged at her mother's skirts. "Is she an angel, mommy?"

The figure of light drifted downwards, vanishing into Moira's body. For a second, nothing happened. And then the body jerked. Moira sat upright, then sagged back against the pillows. "Celia," she said, her voice exhausted. "I'm... I'm sorry. I couldn't stop them..." She was weeping now. "But... but ye... ye got yer babies back. Can ye... can ye forgive me... fer no protectin' 'em?"

And on the floor next to her bed, the Meddler began to snore.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Instantaneously his eyes flew open when the water came down on him. She had looked smug if she hadn't been so worried that he dying. He gasped, choking back the water that came in his open mouth. But when he opened his eyes she gasped in shock, her eyes widening at the sight of his. She stumbled back on her behind, not knowing what to do. he held the children tight against his chest, his head averted from them. She understood why. Luckily they just thought it was a game.

Then, he started talking again in that strange Irish accent he never had before and she just couldn't make sense of it before. She crawled to him, and he latched onto her hand, instead of pulling back she clasped her hand tightly around his too.

"Meddler!" She cried out, not knowing what was happening.

He had started talking in even two voices now and she brought his hand to her face, kissing his knuckles in a desperate kiss as tears pricked at her eyes. The long she was around this man, the more she started to accept that perhaps, perhaps this was who her husband really was.

"Please.. Robert.." She whispered against his skin, holding his clasped hand against her cheek.

"Hold on..." the Meddler croaked weakly, holding his children tighter and gripping Celia's hands like a vice. "don't... let... go..."

Before she had the time to realise what was going on their surroundings changed and they were falling. Falling through a kaleidoscope of colours.

She held onto his hand for dear life.

______________________________________


And they were, she was still sitting on the floor like she was before, but now on the cold floor of a hospital floor. Her green eyes looked up at the Doctor and nurse there, her lips parted as she trembled. What.. what had just happened.

But her children were pushed into her arms and she fell back as the clutched to them.

He had started to sing again and the sound was more beautiful then she had ever heard.

Then, there was light. Light that came from him, light that travelled and finally took the shape of a beautiful woman. And at that moment she recognised what that other presence was. A presence she knew very well, which she was highly sensitized to in order for her to be able to survive the Hunt.

A Sidhe.

She clutched her children tighter for her, having the urge to flee if she could. But the Sidhe did not seem interested in her this time. No, it was taken by a body under a sheet. A dead body, she realised.

"Is she an angel, mommy?"

"No.." She breathed. "She's a Fae" she whispered breathlessly.

Then, it was gone. And the body was no longer dead as it sat up and the sheet slipped away.

She gasped and widened her eyes when she realised who it was.

"Moira!"

"Celia," she said, her voice exhausted. "I'm... I'm sorry. I couldn't stop them..." She was weeping now. "But... but ye... ye got yer babies back. Can ye... can ye forgive me... fer no protectin' 'em?"

She scuttled over to the woman, her children staying by their now softly snoring father. She kneeled next to the woman, stroking her hair.

"It's okae Moira, we do no' blame ye" She said, her voice thick with the Irish accent she never hid for the elder woman.

She heard something heavy fall to the ground behind her. The nurse had fainted. Finally, she looked up at the Doctor.

"They need medical attention, please" She said desperately.

The man stared at her for a moment, shell shocked. But the tears in her eyes shook him out of it. He nodded and ran out of the room to get nurses and more doctors. They were going to need it.

____________________________________________________


It was bordering morning now, the first rays were peeking over the horizon. She was sitting in a chair between two beds in a single room. The left bed by the window was occupied by her husband, both their children sleeping soundly on each side of him, their small heads resting on his chest. The bed on the other side held the other woman, Moira, who had come back from the dead. She had been a mystery to both doctors and nurses, her body had started glowing after she had lost conciousness. And now, now she was just sleeping, the wounds she had before no where to be seen.

She couldn't begin to phantom what had happened. That Sidhe, that Sidhe before it entered Moira's body had called her daughter.. but how could that be? She had been hunted by the Sidhe all her life.

She sighed as she looked at the horizon. She was exhausted but could not catch sleep. Dark circles under her eyes, her hand was clutched to that of the man on the bed. She was a mess, her hair was left in tangles, her make up smeared, faint traces of scarlet lipstick left on her lips.

She was afraid that if she closed her eyes and fell asleep, they would be gone and she would be alone.

She clung to her husbands hand tighter as she choked back a sob.

[The Meddler]

There were confused dreams. Fragmented images of riding a milk-white steed across hilltops too green to be real, of dancing a Beltaine reel about a star ready to ignite, of fleeing the hounds. And on, and on.

Not dreams, he realized distantly. Integrating residual memories.

There was warmth around him in all the dreams, and the feel of a hand clutching his. A feeling of contentment, mingled with a sense of utter dread. The hand in the dream was terrified, and familiar. And then the dream ended, and sleep with it.

There was none of the disorientation that came with human sleep. His mind immediately clicked into wakefulness, as he took in his surroundings. He was in a hospital room. The warmth he'd felt came from Ken and Morgaine, snuggled up against him, their body temperatures like blast furnaces against him. The hand was the Dreamweaver's - Celia's - and the dread he had felt was her dread through the psionic circuits in his palm. He makeup was smeared, her hair tangled, and there were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

He smiled, his hearts seeming to swell within him. "Celia, love," he said, squeezing her hand back. "I'm still here. We're all still here. And we're not going anywhere." He looked around the room, noting Moira sleeping in the next bed over. "Of course, I'm usually the one that doesn't sleep..."

He shifted on the bed, acutely aware of his surroundings. It wasn't just the softness and blast furnace heat of the children, or the grip of Celia's slim, strong fingers. He could smell her, the familiar scent of peppers and sandalwood and gun oil, feel the rapid throb of her heartbeat. The light in the room seemed to pick nameless, unknown colors off of her, colors that were to red what red was to orange and yellow, or to violet what violet was to blue and indigo. Faintly, from everywhere and everything, he could hear music and rhythms.

With a loving smile, he tugged at her hand. "Why don't you take the bed, now? Get a little rest yourself, and let me watch over our family."

A pause, as he looked around the room. "And where, exactly, did my trousers end up?" he asked with a grin.

[The Meddler]

The way his eyes had just opened like that had been somewhat eerily, but she sat back, her eyes slightly widened with suspention. When he turned to her, she was reminded again by how tired she was. She could feel the heat burning on her cheeks, her eyes having the urge to droop. His voice, telling her they weren't going anywhere somewhat made her relax and she looked down at the bed, suddenly very interested with the buttons on his sleeve as she spoke quietly.

"I didn't want to fall asleep and wake up with you not being there. I don't trust anyone at the moment any more.." She sighed and clutched tighter onto his hand.

When he tugged at the fingers clutching around his, she was forced to look up at him. His offer to take the bed sounded so divine but she was still hestitant to leave him and her children.

But the question where his trousers were brought a memory back that she hadn't thought of in a long time, and a true honest smile came to her tired face as she answered.

"Why, you're not thinking of going anywhere, are you?"

"Going somewhere?" the Meddler echoed, faintly amused. "Only if you and the children go with me."

Carefully, he worked his arm under Kenneth, and pulled the boy onto his chest. Then he patted the mattress. "You need the rest," he said, "I'll keep an eye on everyone until you wake up."

She chuckled softly and shook her head. When Kenneth made way on the bed for her she could not resist the gentle tug her had given her and her body sank down on the hospital bed beside him, her head falling heavily on the pillow. "Will you stay? You were nearly dead.." She said softly, even though she was pressed up against him, she was awkward with her hands, not knowing where to place them.

"I got better," he responded.

There was a brief pause.

"I'm sorry, that was rather flippant." He laid in silence for a moment, idly stroking Morgaine's hair.

"Now that Éibhleann out of my brain, I'm no longer in immediate danger of burning my central nervous system out. And then I slept for some nine hours, which gave my body time to repair the worst of the damage."

He held his hand up, staring at it almost like he'd never seen it before. "There are some residual effects, and I think they may be permanent. But there doesn't appear to be any long-term negative consequences."

He glanced over at the sleeping Moira. "For me, at least. We'll have to see what happens when she wakes up."

She nodded mutely as he explained that the woman was out of her brain, her mother. Every time she heard that name she felt something throb in the back of her head. Like it was important.

His hand was fascinating for her for another reason, it looked so utterly human. She finally settled her own hands against her chest. She chuckled under her bretah again, a small smile on her face. As if he'd stay put for another nine hours for her to catch up on sleep. Even Robert was horrible at sitting still.

"Thank you, Meddler." Was all she said before she fell asleep

After an hour, which the Meddler spent enjoying the music of his family's breathing, the Terrors began to wake. "Shhh..." he whispered, "Mommy's sleeping."

"Why?" demanded Morgaine.

"Because she stayed up all night to make sure we would be safe."

The twins looked at each other. "We've got the best mommy in the whole world," Kenneth declared.

The Meddler smiled at that. "Yes, you do." Then he pressed the call button. After a few minutes, a nurse entered.

"Would it be possible to get some breakfast?" the Meddler asked. "Oh, the twins here need a bath. Could I get some towels?"

"I don't *want* a bath," declared Morgaine.

More time passed...

Sleep had been a bliss to her tired and overloaded mind. The happenings of the gathered back to her, but this time she saw them from the eyes of another woman. That woman. The Dreamweaver. She saw how the woman had stood beside the Meddler, proud and dangerous. That same protectiveness over her children felt this woman too, only her wrath had the option to a lot more lethal abilities then humans could. The power that she felt was frightening, it was like an inferno ready to burst and her attacks on the SS-G had but just as cold and cruel as those of the Meddler had been. The woman opened herself, golden energy exploding outwards and all the SS-G in sight had instantaniously passed out. And with a single movement of her hand, they hearts had exploded in their chest, the pressure making the blood spurt out of their nose, ears, eyes and mouth.

---

The twins had submitted to their baths with ill grace, and then immediately set to work playing in the water. From his seat in the doorway, positioned so he could see both the children and Celia, the Meddler smiled.

Kidnapped yesterday, he thought, and they're playing in the water like nothing happened. Amazong.

He probably would have been surprised, a mere decade ago. He'd lived as a human before, but he'd never had children before. Never had any real experience with them, except for being one. And a few visits to the Halls during the War, but those were usually short. And the children he'd met there were scarred and healing.

He blinked those memories away, storing them back in the past where they belonged. They were filled with pain, for more reasons than he cared to think on.

There was a loud *sploosh*, and Morgaine howled with laughter. He sighed. "All right, you two impossible miracles," he laughed, "the water stays *in* the tub."

---

It was about eleven a.m., and they were just wrapping up breakfast - not the best food he'd ever had, but it was edible and he was *hungry*. Hungrier than he had realized - rebuilding damaged nervous tissue used up a lot of the body's reserves. The door opened, and two men entered - Captain Nelson, and one of the staff doctors.

"Mr. Goodall?" the doctor asked.

It took the Meddler a split second. "Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Arthur Smith. I need to have a look at you."

"I'm right here."

Doctor Smith laughed a little. "I mean, I need to examine you. Make sure you're healthy."

The Meddler thought about it for a moment. "No. You don't."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Goodall..."

The Meddler produced his Torchwood warrant card. "I"m an Official Secret. You don't need to examine me."

Captain Nelson gave him a cold look. "Under the circumstances of last night, I can voucn for the fact that you are not able to make that decision. And I think it's important for us to know what you are."

The Meddler looked at the twins. "Ken. Morgaine. Why don't you take the crayons and paper the nurse brought you, and go make mommy a Christmas card?"

He watched them scurry over to the bed, sit down, and stare avidly at the grownups, and shook his head. If he'd doubted they were his children - and he hadn't - this would have been evidence.

Doctor Smith looked uncomfortable. "I apologize, Mr. Goodall, but the Captain-"

"Has no idea what he is asking."

"I know exactly what I"m asking," Captain Nelson rejoined. "You are something living in the skin of my friend."

"I *am* your friend, transformed," was the Meddler's response. He looked at the doctor. "I'll tell you what you'll find, if I let you examine me. My body temperature is about 67 degrees farenheit. I have two hearts, and each of them beats about 15 times per minute. My blood is orange-red and contains proteins you have never seen before."

He smiled, thin and hard. "Oh, and there are significant variations from the human in the size and location and - occasionally - function of my other organs. And I have three organs that exist in no animal on Earth."

He sat down, and crossed his legs. "Is that what you wanted, Joshua? But I promise you, I am still Robert. I just happen to be more than just Robert now."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

The images of the dream had faded as soon as the Dreamweaver held her children in her arms, them clinging to her like a lifeline. Instead of shooting the men holding guards at the basement her blazing presence alone had sent them down the stairs, breaking their neck on impact.

We are one

The voice rang through her dreams. But the thought of having so much power frightened her. She had run from the Sidhe all her life and coming to accept that she was one was beyond her, no matter what the Meddler said.

"I *am* your friend, transformed,"

She heard Robert voice again, no, The Meddler's. Was he really Robert, was he her husband? She was slowly starting to accept the new man in her husbands body for the love he showed for her children. For the love he showed in protecting her.

Would he really do that if he wasn't Robert?

"Is that what you wanted, Joshua? But I promise you, I am still Robert. I just happen to be more than just Robert now."

Her eyes opened blearily at the words, light flooding her pupils as she groaned softly from under the covers. It took a bit before her eyes were used to the harsh hospital lights again, but she blinked as she saw Captain Nelson and a doctor standing there, a look on their faces which spelled trouble. Both her children were at the side of her bed, staring avidly at the grown ups in the room. She pulled them in her arms, she wasn't sure she wanted them presence while in Torchwood business.

"What seems to be the problem here, Captain Nelson?" She asked, a slight edge to her tone.