Chapter Text
Melody had been trying to get closer to the figure in her dreams for over a week. Every night she’d gotten a little closer, moving faster across the sand, clearing the smoke away and using everything she had to just get those extra few meters. She finally got within arms reach of the figure dressed in crimson as two large birds landed. One on their shoulder and one on their outstretched hand. Each was a fiery orange and had bright, glowing, eyes. The figure turned, locking their reflective silver eyes on her.
“Where are we? Who are you? I’ve been here every night for so long I just-”
The silver haired figure smiled softly, their skin a deep reddish tan, their features delicate and smooth. “I tried to hide this place from you for so many years, but you’ve become too strong for that. We will meet in person soon enough it seems.”
“In person? How?”
“Stay brave. Stay strong. We have both been wronged and I stand with you.” They lifted their arm, sending one of the fire birds up into the air. Sparks trailed from its long plumage as it flew. “This will all make sense soon.”
“Just one question, why do you have the same eyes as me?”
“Where do you think you got them?”
She awoke with a start, staring up at the ceiling that was bathed in the early dawn light. After pulling together her thoughts she rolled out of bed and immediately ran to her art supplies. She was going to get a good image of what she’d been dreaming down no matter what.
Gwen Cooper awoke alone. Thankfully there was a good reason for once. After all, it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and with their history she needed all the luck she could get. The world hadn’t ended overnight so that was a start. She rolled over and grabbed her phone, seeing a slew of messages from her workmates wishing her all the best for the big day. She hadn’t felt this happy and anxious at the same time in so long and it meant she wouldn’t need coffee to wake up. She got out of bed and hopped in the shower, using all the expensive hair products she’d bought specifically for the day. The bathroom smelled wonderful as she relaxed a little, letting the steam fill her head. As she dried off she saw a little white lotion pot she’d been given by one of her cousins. It was meant to be some new, high end, skin perfecting balm. She grabbed it and read through the blurb on the side. It was full of the usual buzzwords and wild promises about what it could do: making your skin so smooth you won’t need foundation, erasing pores, removing blemishes. The strange part were the instructions. They seemed to take up half of the label and were filled with warnings to not leave it on the skin for longer than thirty minutes. Not something she was going to test at all, let alone on her wedding day. She tossed the still factory sealed pot onto the bed, pushing it from her mind.
Rhys had woken up early, his nerves getting the better of him. It didn’t help that his, so called, best man had disappeared. He didn’t know which would be harder, telling Gwen she was right or finding and strangling his best friend. Just as he was about to text one of the other groomsmen there was an urgent sounding knock at his hotel room door. He opened it to see Bananaboat standing in the hallway, his suit folded over his arm.
“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Rhys boomed, his nerves morphing into anger.
The latecomer stepped past. “You’re not going to believe it mate. I got in a bit of trouble last night, ended up in the nick. Nothing big but they were being arseholes about it, right? Anyway, I’m there thinking I’m never going to make it in time when one of the coppers says I’m being transferred. No idea where, but there was this American bloke. I thought Gwen had hired a hitman to be honest. So this guy leads me out and hands me my suit, tells me to get in the car and shut up. He drove me right here.”
Rhys sighed, knowing exactly who’d pulled him out of a tight spot. “Just get dressed.”
“So, Gwen’s not going to kill me?”
“Not until after the honeymoon.”
“Aww, come on. You don’t have to tell her.”
“I won’t but she’ll find out. Maybe move to Mexico? Change your name? A bit of plastic surgery?”
“Ok, I get it, you’re angry.”
“No, no. I’m not. But only because I know what Gwen’ll do to you.”
“Come on, who was that man anyway?”
“Gwens boss.”
“Well, I’m fucked then.”
“Yep.”
Owen wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as he walked through the hospital corridors. The report had been vague at best, saying the patients skin was liquifying but showed no signs of infection or necrosis. There had been no photos but that reaction only had a few possible causes: radiation, chemical reaction or alien bullshit. As he approached the patients room he saw her current attending doctor standing just outside, concern etched into his older features.
“Dr Jacobs?” Owen ventured.
The grey haired man looked up from the chart he was holding. “Yes?”
“You requested a hazardous materials specialist?”
“Oh, right, yes.” He seemed to relax a little, glad to share the burden of what was happening. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more descriptive about her condition but… Well, it’s quite extraordinary. Miss Hartnell is finding it difficult to talk so finding out what she’s come into contact with is difficult.”
“Can she write?”
“Not easily. Whatever’s come into contact with her face is also affecting her hands.”
“Are those the only areas affected?”
“Yes. Thankfully it hasn’t reached beyond the dermal layer. Right now we’ve attempted to gently wash off whatever has caused this but it’s difficult as any friction caused her skin to move. We’ve resorted to using a full face mask from the burns unit to limit the damage but even that is having trouble. The biopsy didn’t give us any real answers so thats when we decided to call you.” He handed over the chart containing the results of all the tests they’d performed.
Owen cast his gaze across the documents, hoping that there was something that had been missed. “Right. I’ll try and talk to her before I make any drastic moves.”
“Thanks. Have the nurse page me if you need anything.”
He nodded and watched the older doctor leave before letting himself into the patients room.
Miss Hartnell lay still, breathing slowly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was looking at him Owen would have sworn she was asleep.
“Miss Hartnell? I’m Dr Harper. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
She weakly beckoned him over. On closer inspection her face looked like a thin layer of playdoh smeared over the musculature of a human face. It was thicker the closer to the pillow it was, being gradually pulled down by gravity. The mask was doing its best to hold everything in place but it was never designed to keep still completely liquid flesh in place. Her heavily lidded eyes watched him, her misery clear in them. “‘lease hel’ ee.” She slurred, unable to move her lips very well.
“I’m going to do my best. Now, is there anything you’ve come into contact with? A new soap? Cleanser? Foundation?” He guessed it was something she’d applied herself as the areas that had melted were exactly where something like a clay mask would have been applied.
She paused, gathering her words. “Skin keen… ut how?”
“Is it something off the shelf? Are you testing it?”
“New ornula… Nent to ee sae.”
“Is the container still in your home?”
“Yea.”
“Would you let me go and collect it? If I know the exact chemical that’s doing this I might be able to reverse it.”
“Yes lease… Lease hel.” A tear ran from the eye holes in the mask, leaving small divots in her bottom eyelids.
He felt sorry for this poor woman, knowing that even if her skin resolidified she likely wouldn’t have any feeling in her face and definitely wouldn’t look how she had before. “Are you in pain.”
“No… Just sca’ed… Can’t eel anything.”
“Ok. Do you mind if I examine your hand?”
She held out her palm to him as he pulled on a pair of gloves. All texture from her palm had been smoothed away though it wasn’t as dramatic as her face, likely because she’d washed it off her hands relatively quickly. Still, the top layers of skin were like putty. He carefully took a small sample when she wasn’t looking, before smoothing over the area.
“Right then. I’m going to go and grab that face cream.”
“Keys in ag.” She gestured to a small overnight bag.
He brought it over for her to point to which pocket her keys were kept in so he didn’t have to dig through her things. “I’ll bring these back as soon as I can. Try and get some sleep, yea?”
Jack marched back into the hub, hanging his coat up in his office.
“Where have you been?” Tosh asked.
“Preventing Gwen from murdering a man.”
“What?”
“Rhys best man is a moron.”
“Ah, I see. Well, Owen says he’ll be back soon. He needs to pick something up first. In the meantime I’ve been checking up on the journalist that was snooping around.”
“Hasn’t he given up yet?”
“I thought so for a while, but no. He has a myriad of screen names that I’ve collected and at least three of the accounts have been asking about Torchwood. It’s subtle but it’s there. I also reread his article about street racing and a few of the details he wouldn’t have known unless he was there after everyone else had gone home.”
“Think he’ll be a problem?”
“Potentially, simply because most of his work is paper based so I can’t delete it before it gets into the wrong hands.”
He sighed. “Sounds like we’re going to have to stage a little break in. Confiscate as much as we can.”
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“It’s better than destroying his career.”
“True. Though if Gwen was here I’m sure she’d suggest talking to him first.”
“I’ll consider it.” He sounded less than enthusiastic about the idea but knew she was right. “For now just wipe his computer and block his accounts. Who knows, he might get the hint.”
“Hopefully.”
Melody and Ianto walked down into the main area of the Hub, her arms tightly wrapped around an A4 sketchbook.
“You both might want to take a look at these.” The Welshman said, gesturing to the book as she opened it and placed it down on a clear space on Toshikos desk.
Though Jack didn’t recognise the landscape or the person in the second image, he did recognise the etching on the figures collar. He’d seen enough post it notes with it scribbled on during his time with the Doctor.
“Well Tosh, you wanted a sample of Gallifreyan and it looks like you’ve got one.” The captain pointed to the figures collar.
Melody glanced to him. “So they’re Gallifreyan?”
“Maybe. I’ve only ever met two of them and they look exactly the same as humans on the surface. The Doctor didn’t like talking about their home too much. Too many bad memories.”
“I thought the Doctor was the only one left.”
“That’s what I thought too, but Time lord technology is so advanced it wouldn’t shock me to find one or two still out there.”
“Definitely more than one then. This isn’t my stalker, but I think it’s someone who he hurt. They said that my eyes came from them.”
“Do you mind if I keep these?” Tosh asked, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she looked closely at the intricate design.
“Go ahead. If you can get in contact with the Doctor, maybe she can shed some light on the whole thing.”
Jack frowned. “I wouldn’t rely on that.”
“Melody, you’re avoiding the bigger issue.” Ianto said softly.
She deflated a little, gripping the pendant that hung around her neck. “They said they’d likely be seeing me soon.”
The captain placed a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, soon to a time lord can mean decades. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”