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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (40/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
“So what is Torchwood?”
The countryside rolled past, giving glimpses of large homes behind the tall hedges that hid them from the road.
“They’re a kind of plant…”
Rory heard the driver tell the horses to slow down. It sounded like they were close.
“I do have a sword, you know.”
“Are you always this moody? Torchwood is the name of the institute we work for. It’s just you and me right now and before you can ask, it’s all we can afford. This is something new and the Queen won’t commit more resources until we can prove we can do the work.”
He peeked his head out of the window of the carriage, taking in the large estate. It was one of those English country homes that all the top celebrities owned. Numerous windows, multiple wings, meticulously kept greenery. It looked like something out of a movie.
“Do we have work?”
“Jeez, you make it sound like I do nothing all day. I have a job and it’s especially for you.”
“Why just me?”
“I want to see what you can do.”
The carriage pulled up to the front of the house where a butler was waiting. He opened the door, allowing Rory to step out. It had been a long ride from London, nearly half the day, but Rory felt as fresh as a daisy. His clothes, on the other day, were horribly wrinkled. He resented Harkness and the man’s insistence that he wear “something proper”. Something proper? He looked like Mr. Darcy with the silly top hat, the tightly tied cravat, and the long coat.
The butler took his small travelling case from him. “If you would follow me, sir. We have a room prepared for you.”
The estate was just as impressive as the outside. Thick carpets, expensive looking art, wood panelled walls. The butler led Rory up a wide staircase where portraits of strangers stared down at him. He tried not think that their eyes were following him.
The window in his room overlooked the back gardens of the house. A large reflecting pool caught the light of the sun and carved stone statues dotted the grounds. Past some hedges, even more greenery could be glimpsed. Rory was left wondering just how big the estate was. It must have taken a lot of money to maintain it.
“Dinner will be served in an hour, sir. I will let Mr. Waterfield know that you are here.”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
Rory could see why the Doctor wore the same outfit every day. It was much simpler. You didn’t have to worry if your shirt matched your vest or if your suit was pressed or if your tie was the latest fashion. All of the guess work was eliminated. He had gotten so used to wearing his armour all the time, but it had made his life so much easier. He looked presentable no matter the occasion.
He had enough time to change to look somewhat respectable for dinner. It was important that he make a good first impression and looking like a slob would have been of poor taste. Before he left his room, Rory took one more look at himself in the mirror. Amy would have laughed, he looked so ridiculous, but like a lot of women in the world she enjoyed Pride and Prejudice and he could easily picture her calling him, mockingly, Mr. Darcy.
“I’d prefer the reindeer jumper from Bridget Jones’ Diary,” he muttered to himself.
No one was around to show him the way to the dining room, but it was easy enough to guess. He just followed the scent of freshly cooked food. He could smell roast meat and buttery potatoes with rosemary and steamed vegetables. It was the smells of home. Too bad he didn’t need to eat, but he had found that any food he did ingest didn’t have any ill effects on his plastic form. So he could eat some of the meal without seeming ungracious.
There was no one in the dining room, but he heard voices from one of the sitting rooms and he headed over there instead. Inside, he found his host and three others. They noticed him immediately and soon all attention was on him.
“Ah, Mr. Bond. I am so glad that you could join us,” said Edward Waterfield.
Rory had thought the name seemed apt, considering the situation. “Mr. Waterfield.” They shook hands. Waterfield was as tall as he was and he had the typical Victorian sideburns.
“Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the party. This is my daughter, Victoria.”
A girl in her late teens rose from her chair, though her bouffant skirts hid her feet from view. She had a kind, round face and long brown hair that fell in wavy curls down to her shoulders. She offered Rory a curtsy rather than her hand and he had enough sense to respond with a bow. “Miss Waterfield.”
“And lastly, Theodore Maxtible and his daughter Miss Ruth Maxtible. This fine estate we are enjoying is theirs. I cannot thank them enough for allowing Victoria and me to stay here.” Rory bowed again at Ruth and then he shook Maxtible’s hand. The man had wild grey hair with a bushy beard that matched and a small pair of glasses sat on his nose. He vaguely reminded Rory of Karl Marx.
“This is a lovely house, Mr. Maxtible.”
“Yes, it has been in my family for several generations. I would be happy to recount its history if you are interested, Mr. Bond.”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” said Rory, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as possible. He wasn’t here to learn about the house, but rather, something in the house.
A maid entered before Maxtible could speak again. “Dinner is served.”
Thanking his lucky stars, he followed the others into the dining room. The long table was set and several pieces of cutlery gleamed at each place setting. Since they had an odd number, Rory ended up sitting by himself on one side of the table while Ruth and Victoria sat across from him. Maxtible took the seat at the head of the table and Waterfield sat at the far end opposite.
The meal started off with a soup and there was the various small talk about the weather and the political climate of England. Maxtible was well opinionated, but he also kept asking Rory for his views. He spent more time talking than eating, and that was fine with him. He had barely taken more than a few sips before the next course came.
In a lull between topics, Victoria Waterfield finally spoke. “What brings you to the estate, Mr. Bond?”
It was strange hearing people call him by the wrong name. Rory also kept expecting everyone to follow up Mr. Bond with, “I expect you to die!” He really missed movies. “I heard about your father’s experiment. The Royal Society has taken quite an interest. We think it might have practical applications.”
“Time travel?” asked Ruth. She laughed. “My apologies, but I do not see anything practical about travelling through time.”
“Oh, it is quite practical, Miss Maxtible,” said Waterfield. His responses so far had been brief, but now his eyes lit up as he settled into a topic he knew passionately. “For instance, if you wished to know the weather for a party you are planning, you could travel into the future and see the conditions firsthand. Or perhaps you have lost something precious of yours. You could travel back in time to the last moment you saw it and recover it once back in the present day.”
“Oh, Edward, you think so small,” said Maxtible. He wiped his lips on his napkin. “I foresee applications in the military. You could see what your enemy is planning and devise a counter strike. Think of the wars we could win.”
“But aren’t you worried about the consequences?” Everyone looked to Rory. He hid a cringe. Harkness had told him not to interfere. He was supposed to observe only.
“How do you mean, Mr. Bond?” asked Waterfield.
“It’s just…” Rory sighed. He saw no way to back out of this gracefully. “By going to the past you could change the future. Or vice versa. Witnessing the future could change the past.”
The room fell silent as Waterfield and Maxtible thought this over. Ruth and Victoria politely continued to eat their dinners. Then Maxtible laughed. “Mr. Bond, you are full of entertaining notions. As Edward has explained it to me, time is insubstantial. How can you change something which does not exist?”
“Well…” Rory really had no answer for that. He wasn’t a professional time traveller. He was sure if the Doctor was here, he’d be able to argue a very valid point or at least be so confusing that Maxtible and Waterfield dropped the subject. “I don’t know. But that’s why I’m here!” he added with false cheer. “To learn, from you fine men… oh, look, the next course…”
Never had he been so grateful to see a plate of salad. Maxtible and Waterfield started talking about one of the neighbours and Ruth happily chimed in, now that they were discussing something more mainstream. Victoria continued her silence as she poked forlornly at the greens on her plate.
Rory could just hear Harkness now. “What part of ‘observe only’ did you not understand?”
The rest of dinner came and went with only one more mention of time travel. Waterfield invited Rory to see his invention in the morning and he gladly accepted. After that came desserts and then the men retired to have an after dinner drink and smoke. Rory declined to indulge in either, but he stayed for the ensuing conversation until both men decided that it was time to call it a night. They didn’t wait for the maid and turned out the lights themselves.
Rory lingered for a bit, staring out the windows at the darkened grounds. He had initially balked at Harkness’ claim that a scientist was developing a time machine, but from the way Waterfield and Maxtible spoke, it seemed like the pair truly believed that they had successfully created a way to travel through time.
The other lights in the house winked out until finally Rory couldn’t see the grounds at all. No, wait, that wasn’t true. One light remained on; he could see the faint glow on the lawn. One of the rooms on the main level was still occupied.
He stepped out into the hallway, thinking the staff had forgotten to turn off one of the gas lights. Even in the minimal illumination he had no troubles seeing and after one wrong turn he found the room in question. To his surprise, it wasn’t empty as he thought. Rory nearly turned back, but then he remembered this was Victorian England. Young women weren’t expected to be roaming the darkened corridors.
He knocked softly on the door. “Miss Waterfield? Is everything all right?”
Victoria tore her gaze away from the portrait above the unlit fireplace. “Mr. Bond.” She quickly wiped at her eyes with her right knuckle, as though she had been crying. “I thought everyone had retired for the night.”
“I don’t feel very tired,” admitted Rory. He slowly entered the small sitting room. How many sitting rooms did Maxtible need? As he looked around, he noticed that this one was more of a library. Shelves full of books lined the walls. The only places without books were the large double windows that opened out to the grounds and the wall with the fireplace. He glanced up at the portrait. It was of a young woman, dressed in a fancy gown and with her hair pinned up. She looked remarkably similar to Victoria.
“Then we have something else in common,” Victoria said in a soft voice.
“Something else?” Rory came up next to her. She was so much smaller than him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world.
She turned away from him, the skirts of her dress rustling like dry paper. “I also worry about the consequences of Father’s machine.”
No wonder Victoria had been so quiet during dinner. “Have you seen it, Victoria? Do you know if it works?”
“I have not.” She sat down in one of the chairs, clutching her hands together on her lap.
Rory didn’t want to push, but he had to know what he was getting in to. He sat down across her from. “Is that your portrait?” He decided to approach this like he was dealing with a difficult patient. Most opened up to him once they started talking about themselves and their lives. Victoria clearly wanted to talk, but she felt ill at ease.
Her hands tightened into fists until her knuckles were white. “That is my mother. She… she died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“No, it is quite all right.” Victoria smiled, trying to be polite, but it did little to chase away the sadness in her expression. “You did not know.”
“I lost someone, too, a long time ago.”
Victoria stared at him, sensing a kindred spirit. “It is difficult, I will admit. Father and I lost so much that day. We would have been left to live on the streets if not for Mr. Maxtible. He has been so generous.”
Rory could see that Victoria was praising her benefactor, but he didn’t hear the gratitude in her voice. “I’m sensing a but coming…” She frowned slightly at him. “Oh. ‘Mr. Maxtible has been so generous but…’”
Victoria hesitated, reluctant to voice thoughts she normally kept to herself. She took in an unsteady breath. “He fuels Father’s obsession with time travel. I wish Father would give up on the machine, but it is all he can think about. He does not see the danger he is in.”
“Danger?”
“You said you lost someone, Mr. Bond. Would you not give anything to have them back or to see them well one more time?”
Amy. Without a doubt, Rory would have done anything to see her that very second. He hadn’t admitted it at the time, when Harkness had given him the assignment, but he had selfish reasons for coming here. A working time machine. How could he resist, even if it was just a possibility? He could take the Pandorica into the future, to a period where a past version of Amy was alive. His long vigil could have been over in a flash.
“You spoke of the dangers of changing the past. I fear that is my father’s goal. To change the past, to prevent my mother’s death. But he cannot. There is nothing to change. He is trying to achieve the unattainable.” Victoria’s voice cracked, but no tears came. “Mr. Maxtible drives him towards madness and he does not care.”
Rory reached out and wrapped his hand around Victoria’s. She recoiled, but she soon relaxed when she looked into Rory’s eyes. He wasn’t trying to make any unwanted advances; he just wanted to comfort her. “Then let’s stop him. They’re showing me the machine tomorrow. I can destroy it, stop your father’s work.” He squeezed Victoria’s hand reassuringly. “Bring him back to the present.”
“I… I cannot ask you to do something so perilous. Father would be devastated but he would not hurt you. However, I cannot say the same for Mr. Maxtible.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” Rory said with a smile. “And I want to do this. The world isn’t ready for time travel.” To risk one man’s sanity just so he could have a shot at getting home wasn’t something Rory could do. He could wait, like he always did.
“Mr. Bond, I cannot thank you enough. I do, however, have one request.”
“Okay…”
“I want to be there when you confront Father and Mr. Maxtible.” Victoria glanced over at the portrait of her mother, as if the image could give her strength. “If he does not listen to you, perhaps I will have a chance.”
Rory paced in his room for the entire night. He had read a lot of science journals after the incident with the Atraxi and Prisoner Zero, but it didn’t make him an expert on everything scientific. He was aware of certain possibilities, but he couldn’t, for example, explain how the Large Hadron Collider worked. So it was easy enough to smash something, but he didn’t know what the results would be if he destroyed Waterfield’s machine. He didn’t even know how it worked. Could he even smash it without endangering everyone for a hundred mile radius?
The Doctor hadn’t really explained how the TARDIS worked. From what Rory had seen, piloting the time machine involved a lot of running around and smashing things with your fist. He wished now that the Time Lord had gone over some of the basics of time travel. Even a couple of hints would have helped to soothe his nerves.
The sun rose, but it was still too early to meet with Waterfield and Maxtible. Rory put on another shirt and changed his tie, but that only ate up about fifteen minutes. When he couldn’t stand being in his room any longer, he headed out, intent on taking a walk around the grounds.
He was walking by the kitchens when he saw the maid from last night. She had a few food items laid out on the sideboard and was about to grab a few more when she saw Rory. “Good morning, sir. You’re up bright and early.”
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“Too quiet, eh? I have a cousin who works as a maid in London. Always noisy she says. Would you like a cup of tea? Or I could get you something else.”
“No, that’s okay, um…” Rory trailed off, searching for a name.
The maid just smiled, like she didn’t mind that people only recognized her by her face and not by her name. “Mollie, sir, Mollie Dawson.”
“I don’t need anything right now, Mollie, but thanks for asking. I was going to take a walk around the grounds.”
“Best time to do it, sir. The birds are out and the sun’s just hitting the treetops. We’ll have a proper breakfast ready in an hour.”
Rory left Mollie to her work. She was so bright and cheerful. A simple life meant simple needs. He envied that.
Outside, he walked around the reflecting pool and then he did a quick tour of the gardens. There were still some flowers left, but autumn was on its way. As peaceful as it all was, Rory still didn’t feel at ease. Waterfield had put a lot of time and effort into this project, misguided though it was. He felt like he was going to kick down a child’s sandcastle.
It came time to head back in and he found Waterfield and Maxtible in the dining room, breakfasting on toast, eggs, and freshly cooked bacon. They greeted him warmly, having no idea what was to come. Rory took his seat from the previous night and engaged until small talk until both men were done eating.
“Well, Mr. Bond, prepare to be astonished,” said Maxtible.
The laboratory was in another wing of the house. They had just started to make their way when Victoria caught up with them. She kissed her father on the cheek as she bade him good morning. “Are you off to show Mr. Bond your machine, Papa?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Could I come along? You are always saying how wonderful it is.”
“I am afraid it would not interest you, my dear,” said Maxtible, speaking before Waterfield could. “The science is hardly exciting.”
“Oh, but I want to learn. You have taught me so much, Papa. If it is going to make you famous, I want to understand how your machine works.” It was the sort of sweet talk Amy used when she was in a good mood. A sugar-coated demand that flattered but also got her point across. Rory had been a target of such comments more than a few times. He considered himself lucky. Most times Amy just shouted at people if they weren’t doing as she expected.
“I do not see the harm, Theodore. We must educate the young so they can carry on our collective knowledge into the future.” Waterfield slipped his arm around Victoria’s and he escorted her down the hall, as though they were on their way to a ball.
“Once this machine works, you can simply send the knowledge to the future,” Maxtible muttered to himself.
Rory, at the rear of the party, heard every word. There would be great profit in a time machine. Any money Maxtible had sunk into the project would be returned to him, ten times over most likely. It seemed utterly believable as a motivation for wanting Waterfield to continue with his work.
The double doors to the laboratory were locked and Waterfield had to unlock them. As Rory waited, he wondered what he was going to see. A console with a central column like the TARDIS? A dodgem with a giant disk on the back like in the classic The Time Machine movie? A DeLorean? He had his doubts about the last one, but truly, he had no idea what to expect. What did a Victorian time machine look like? All copper and wood, like in steampunk?
The doors opened to a large sized room that perhaps had started life as a study before Waterfield moved in with his equipment. Now, there was a lab bench to one side of the room, laden with test tubes and beakers full of liquids, Bunsen burners, and other tools. A large wooden cabinet filled the other side of the room, though its closed doors gave no hint of what lay inside. Aside from a few chairs and two stools, that was about it for the furniture in the room. Unless Waterfield had invented a chameleon circuit as well, Rory saw nothing that looked like a time machine.
“Um it’s very neat.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Waterfield chuckled. “Were you anticipating a large contraption, Mr. Bond? With our theory, we have no need for a bulky and unwieldy machine.”
Maxtible sat down at the lab bench. “I have always had a fascination with time travel.” He pulled out a cigarette from his case and lit it with a match. “We must wait so long to see the future. Would it not be marvellous to see man’s achievements of tomorrow right now?”
“I suppose,” admitted Rory. He glanced at Victoria, but her attention was on her father. “What is your theory? For time travel, I mean.”
Waterfield gestured to Maxtible. “Theodore.”
Maxtible puffed on his cigarette. “Yes, now this is my theory: a mirror reflects an image, does it not?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you may be standing there, yet appear to be standing fifty feet away. Well, following the new investigations twelve years ago by J. Clark Maxwell into electromagnetism and the experiments by Faraday into static electricity, Waterfield and I first attempted to refine the image in the mirror, and then to project it.”
“In here, Mr. Bond,” said Waterfield, gesturing to the large cabinet, “are one hundred and forty-four separate mirrors. Each is of polished metal and each is subjected to electric charges - all positive.”
“Like repels like in electricity, and so next, Waterfield and I attempted to repel the image in the mirror, wherever we directed.”
“And that worked?” Rory couldn’t keep the criticism out of his voice. Even the Doctor’s vortex manipulator was more complex than a cabinet of mirrors and that was just a leather strap with a bunch of buttons on it.
Maxtible blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. “We are still refining our methods, but it is a promising start.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. Rory drifted closer to the cabinet. The inside of it sparkled like a mirror ball. He saw his image reflected a hundred times over, in different sizes and at different angles. “Is it safe?”
“When activated, the machine draws in large amounts of electricity,” said Waterfield. “We had to insulate the cabinet, as to avoid any unnecessary shocks.” He glanced to Victoria with a smile, but she didn’t laugh at her father’s small joke.
“Okay…” Lots of electricity was bad, but insulation was good. If Rory smashed it, he figured there would be lots of sparks and maybe a power outage, but nothing serious. The notion of seven years bad luck multiplied by one hundred and forty-four didn’t even deter him.
He crossed the room in a few hurried strides and snatched up a hammer from the lab bench. Turning on his heel, he raised the hammer above his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Waterfield, but I have to do this.” Rory tried to step forward towards the cabinet, but Waterfield threw himself into his path.
“Mr. Bond, what are you doing?”
“Listen to him, Papa,” pleaded Victoria. She wrapped her hand around her father’s arm and tried to pull him back. “This is for your own good.”
“Victoria?” Waterfield glanced between Rory and his daughter. “What is going on?” A frown pulled down his features.
“I can’t let you continue,” said Rory.
“A sentiment I share, Mr. Bond. Unfortunately…” Maxtible’s words were followed by the cocking of the hammer on a pistol. “You and I have two very different viewpoints.”
Rory froze, as did Waterfield and Victoria. Maxtible was on his feet and had a pistol trained on him and he didn’t look afraid to use it. He glanced up at the hammer, which he still held over his head. One quick swing and this would all be over. Even if Maxtible squeezed the trigger, the bullet wouldn’t do much to stop Rory. It would hurt, a lot, but he could live with that. He brought the hammer down just a fraction of an inch, wondering if Maxtible would notice.
“Theodore, what are you doing?” demanded Waterfield. He tried to take a step forward but Maxtible switched his aim, pointing it right at Waterfield’s chest.
Rory went as still as stone.
“This man is about to destroy our work, Edward. We cannot let him proceed!” Maxtible’s voice rose as his speech became more passionate. His eyes blazed with crazed fervour behind the lenses of his glasses.
“But must you shoot him?”
“No, you are right.” For a moment. Waterfield relaxed. Then Maxtible trained his gun on Victoria. The young woman let out a loud gasp. “Mr. Bond, step away from the cabinet or you will force me to do something most regrettable.”
He didn’t think about trying to make a move. Rory was fast, but he wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. He took a few steps back, away from the cabinet, and lowered his arm down to his side. For an extra show of good will, he dropped the hammer to the floor. “There. I’ve backed off. Now put the gun away.”
But it seemed like Maxtible wasn’t even listening. “Who are you really, Mr. Bond? Are you working for a rival? Were you planning to sabotage my machine?” The man’s aim refused to waver from Victoria. She looked beyond frightened, but she didn’t cry. She wasn’t even looking at Maxtible. All of her attention was on her father, as if he was the one Maxtible was targeting.
“I’ll tell you everything,” promised Rory. “Just put the gun down.”
“I am not-”
“Papa!”
Waterfield charged forward, moving remarkably fast. He shoved Maxtible and they crashed back into the lab bench, sending beakers and glass test tubes flying. Liquid chemicals smashed against the floor, creating hazardous puddles. Waterfield tried to wrestle the gun free, but Maxtible resisted. In the confusion, Maxtible dropped his cigarette, which he still held in his left hand.
With a loud whoosh, the chemicals ignited. Before Rory could even blink, there was a wall of flame between him and the two men. There was no way to the doors.
“Papa!” Victoria tried to rush forward, but the fire was too much. Rory pulled her back, wary of the flames himself.
Waterfield, still wrestling with Maxtible for control of the gun, briefly looked back. He met gazes with Victoria for just a second. “Activate the machine!”
“Papa?” She sounded so young in that moment.
“It works!”
Rory grabbed Victoria by the hand and he pulled her towards the cabinet. The flames were spreading and smoke was quickly filling the room. With the exit blocked and no other way out, it seemed like the time machine was their only option. There wasn’t time to doubt whether Waterfield was telling the truth or not. They had to get out of there before they burned to death.
He found the switch and flicked it on. A light within the cabinet began to glow and a low hum filled the air. Small sparks of electricity leapt from mirror to mirror to mirror.
“Waterfield, you liar!”
A shot rang out.
Victoria’s scream drowned out anything else. She began to fall to her knees, sobbing hysterically, but Rory grabbed her and picked her up before she could collapse completely. On the other side of the flames, Maxtible raised his gun.
Closing his eyes, with Victoria still in his arms, Rory jumped into the cabinet.
Everything was spinning. It was like an out of control merry-go-round. Colours swirled together, creating a messy blur. Up, down, none of that existed. It was just an endless vortex.
Vortex. Time Vortex.
They were in the Time Vortex.
As soon the realization hit Rory, he was seemingly thrown clear of the chaos. The world calmed around him until finally the spinning stopped and he was on solid ground again. He breathed heavily through his mouth, as though he were nauseous, but he felt perfectly fine. He just needed a moment to get his bearings.
He still held Victoria in his arms. Her whole body heaved with each sob. She didn’t seem aware that they had used her father’s time machine. Rory hugged her tight, afraid to let her go.
Around them, there was nothing but ruins; piles of burnt bricks and blackened timbers. The only thing that suggested that this used to be a building was the stone foundation. It was visible in places, demarking where the rooms used to be. The vague layout of the room where they stood seemingly matched the dimensions of the laboratory. This was Maxtible’s estate, destroyed by fire. They had travelled forward in time.
But how far?
“Victoria.” Rory stepped back so he could see her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she had finally stopped crying. “I’m sorry. I-”
She turned away from him, taking in their surroundings. She was quiet for about a minute or so before she asked, “Where are we? Where is Papa?”
“We… We haven’t gone anywhere. This is still Maxtible’s estate.”
“But it is…” A slight quiver entered Victoria’s voice. Rory reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she suddenly spun around to face him. “This is impossible, Mr. Bond! This is a trick.” Victoria proved to be quite nimble despite the wide skirt hampering her feet. She shot past Rory and climbed her way out of the rubble.
“Victoria!” He easily caught up with her and kept pace next to her as she headed for the road at the edge of the estate’s boundary. “We entered the cabinet, remember? Your father’s machine worked. This is the future.”
She refused to look at him, but Rory didn’t think she was mad at him. Anger was just easier to comprehend. It lit a fire in you, kept you going when it seemed like your entire life was crumbling around you. Victoria needed her anger right now, to make it through the next few minutes. The time to pause and mourn all she had lost would come later.
The hedges that marked the edge of the property and hid the estate from the road were still standing. Victoria stopped here and surveyed the stretch of road. A horse and cart slowly made its way down the dirt path towards them.
First and foremost, Rory saw a potential ride, but he also saw an opportunity to confirm where and when they were. He had no desire to prove Victoria wrong; he just needed to know for how long they had been gone. He waved his arms at the driver and almost immediately the horse picked up its pace. It wasn’t long before the cart had come to a stop in front of them. The driver began to tip his hat in greeting, but he stopped the second he saw Victoria.
“Miss Waterfield?” The man stared at her with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, as if expecting his vision of her to disappear.
“Mr. Clayton.” The sight of a familiar face soothed some of the tension in Victoria’s voice. “Could you possibly offer us a ride into town?”
“I, I… Of course, Miss Waterfield.” Clayton glanced around nervously. It was like he was expecting the dead to rise up from the earth.
“Mr. Clayton.” Rory had to all but shout the man’s name before his attention was back on them and even then he could barely look Rory in the eye. “This is going to sound strange, but can you tell us what year this is?”
Clayton, though still clearly confused, latched onto the simple question. “It is the year of our Lord, 1868.”
Time travel always seemed so precise in fiction. Enter the right date and time and voilà! You were somewhere, and somewhen, brand new. Since travelling with the Doctor, Rory was starting to see that time travel was anything but precise. No wonder it had taken the Time Lord twelve years, and then an additional two after that, to return to Amy in Leadworth.
An entire year gone in a flash. It was a strange feeling. He was used to living every second of every day. Now he was a year closer to his goal and he hadn’t done anything at all. It almost felt like cheating.
A knock sounded at the door of his room. The local inn had kindly taken them in for free until Victoria could sort out her situation. Things were a little slow going though, so Rory had decided to call in the one person he knew that could help.
He opened the door to reveal Captain Jack Harkness, who had on the same outfit he had been wearing when Rory had left for Maxtible’s estate just under a year ago. The man held a large bag and he dropped it by the door as he entered the room. Claiming the only chair in the small room, he sat down and said, “I know I said to take your time, but this seems a little excessive.” Harkness smiled at his own joke.
Rory didn’t laugh. He closed the door and considered taking a seat on the bed, but that seemed too comfy so he remained standing. Everyone in town knew about him and Victoria’ miraculous re-appearance, so he really didn’t care if anyone overhead them.
“Centurion, relax. I’m not here to yell at you.” Harkness reached into his coat and pulled out a worn journal. He tossed it to Rory. “I spoke to the bank manager in your message. I pulled some strings and got the vault opened. That was Waterfield’s. It’s a copy of his notes up until a few weeks before your visit.”
Intrigued, Rory opened the journal and quickly flipped through the pages. They were full of cramped handwriting, equations, and sketches. Little of it made sense to Rory. He was near the end when a page fell out and floated down to land on the floor. When he reached down to pick it up, he saw that the stray page was a charcoal drawing of Waterfield’s wife. The likeness was exactly the same as the portrait he had seen.
“Waterfield left everything he had to his daughter,” said Harkness. “Everything that belongs to Victoria Waterfield now is in that bag.”
Rory tucked the drawing back into the journal. “So did Waterfield know he was going to die? Why else would he arrange all this?”
“I read his journal on the ride down from London. Interesting stuff. It looks like he solved his time machine problems about a month earlier. Waterfield didn’t tell Maxtible because he was afraid his benefactor would try to use the machine for his own means. I think that’s what led him to put his affairs in order. He knew Maxtible would try to kill him.”
“But why not destroy the machine if he knew the harm it could do? He could have left with Victoria.” And none of this would have happened, were the unspoken words that followed Rory’s sentence.
Harkness shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, Centurion. How old are you? Things are never that simple.”
“I suppose not,” Rory said softly. He handed the journal back to the captain. “So what now? Victoria’s legally dead from the sound of things.”
“I have someone working on that. She’ll be legally alive by the end of the week.” Harkness’ efficiency was slightly startling. It was like he had all of this prepared beforehand, like he knew what was going to happen. Rory thought back to a few days ago, at least, it only seemed like a few days ago from his perspective. An observation he had filed away for later came to the forefront of his mind.
“You knew that Waterfield had a working time machine. You weren’t working off rumours.” He watched Harkness carefully, making note of the captain’s reaction.
The man hardly reacted. He gave a half shrug.
As innocent as he looked, Rory didn’t buy it. A claim that mirrors and electricity could allow someone to travel in time usually garnered laughter, not serious investigations. Harkness knew what was going on in that house and he had failed to tell Rory. He couldn’t help but think that if he had been better informed, no one would have had to die.
He had a next move, but it came with a serious risk. Maybe it was worth it, though, to hear the truth.
“You knew,” said Rory, “because of this.” He shot forward and grabbed Harkness by his left arm. He pulled back the sleeve of the coat, revealing a leather band strapped around the man’s wrist. It didn’t look like much and before Harkness could say that it was nothing, Rory flipped back the top flap on the strap. Compact metal buttons and a small screen lay hidden beneath. There was no way either could be mistaken for Victoria era technology.
Harkness gently pulled his arm free and snapped the flap back into place. His movements were casual, as though he were doing up the buttons on his cuffs. “So, you’re more than a handsome face.” He sounded more impressed than annoyed and the small smile on his face didn’t help either. With hardly any effort at all, the captain had put Rory off-kilter when it should have been the other way around.
Rory sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Harkness was good. He had to give him that. “And you’re a time traveller.” With his suspicions confirmed, it finally hit him full on. He was talking with someone from another time and he wasn’t wearing a bow tie.
“You are, too, or you wouldn’t have recognized my vortex manipulator.”
As expected, Harkness had picked up on the small detail, but to Rory’s surprise, it felt nice to finally have that a secret out in the open. It was one less lie he would have to tell, at least around Harkness. “It’s complicated, but yeah.”
“Everything’s complicated.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Rory couldn’t help but try for one more push. He just wanted one straight answer from Harkness. “You’ve visited the estate before, in a different time.” It didn’t quite make sense in Rory’s head – how could Harkness remember a visit from an alternative timeline that didn’t exist – but it was the only explanation. He had seen Waterfield’s experiment once before.
Rory expected a grin, to deflect the comment, but Harkness was strangely quiet for a moment. He stared at Rory with deep blue eyes and within that gaze he saw a weary man. “You accomplished more than I could have.”
An unspeakable tragedy lurked in those words.
“You should talk to Miss Waterfield before we leave for London tomorrow.” Harkness got to his feet and headed for the door, breaking the moment. “I expect she’d want to know about her father’s arrangements.”
“I will,” promised Rory. He watched Harkness leave the room. The captain was right about one thing. Everything was complicated.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
“So what is Torchwood?”
The countryside rolled past, giving glimpses of large homes behind the tall hedges that hid them from the road.
“They’re a kind of plant…”
Rory heard the driver tell the horses to slow down. It sounded like they were close.
“I do have a sword, you know.”
“Are you always this moody? Torchwood is the name of the institute we work for. It’s just you and me right now and before you can ask, it’s all we can afford. This is something new and the Queen won’t commit more resources until we can prove we can do the work.”
He peeked his head out of the window of the carriage, taking in the large estate. It was one of those English country homes that all the top celebrities owned. Numerous windows, multiple wings, meticulously kept greenery. It looked like something out of a movie.
“Do we have work?”
“Jeez, you make it sound like I do nothing all day. I have a job and it’s especially for you.”
“Why just me?”
“I want to see what you can do.”
The carriage pulled up to the front of the house where a butler was waiting. He opened the door, allowing Rory to step out. It had been a long ride from London, nearly half the day, but Rory felt as fresh as a daisy. His clothes, on the other day, were horribly wrinkled. He resented Harkness and the man’s insistence that he wear “something proper”. Something proper? He looked like Mr. Darcy with the silly top hat, the tightly tied cravat, and the long coat.
The butler took his small travelling case from him. “If you would follow me, sir. We have a room prepared for you.”
The estate was just as impressive as the outside. Thick carpets, expensive looking art, wood panelled walls. The butler led Rory up a wide staircase where portraits of strangers stared down at him. He tried not think that their eyes were following him.
The window in his room overlooked the back gardens of the house. A large reflecting pool caught the light of the sun and carved stone statues dotted the grounds. Past some hedges, even more greenery could be glimpsed. Rory was left wondering just how big the estate was. It must have taken a lot of money to maintain it.
“Dinner will be served in an hour, sir. I will let Mr. Waterfield know that you are here.”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
Rory could see why the Doctor wore the same outfit every day. It was much simpler. You didn’t have to worry if your shirt matched your vest or if your suit was pressed or if your tie was the latest fashion. All of the guess work was eliminated. He had gotten so used to wearing his armour all the time, but it had made his life so much easier. He looked presentable no matter the occasion.
He had enough time to change to look somewhat respectable for dinner. It was important that he make a good first impression and looking like a slob would have been of poor taste. Before he left his room, Rory took one more look at himself in the mirror. Amy would have laughed, he looked so ridiculous, but like a lot of women in the world she enjoyed Pride and Prejudice and he could easily picture her calling him, mockingly, Mr. Darcy.
“I’d prefer the reindeer jumper from Bridget Jones’ Diary,” he muttered to himself.
No one was around to show him the way to the dining room, but it was easy enough to guess. He just followed the scent of freshly cooked food. He could smell roast meat and buttery potatoes with rosemary and steamed vegetables. It was the smells of home. Too bad he didn’t need to eat, but he had found that any food he did ingest didn’t have any ill effects on his plastic form. So he could eat some of the meal without seeming ungracious.
There was no one in the dining room, but he heard voices from one of the sitting rooms and he headed over there instead. Inside, he found his host and three others. They noticed him immediately and soon all attention was on him.
“Ah, Mr. Bond. I am so glad that you could join us,” said Edward Waterfield.
Rory had thought the name seemed apt, considering the situation. “Mr. Waterfield.” They shook hands. Waterfield was as tall as he was and he had the typical Victorian sideburns.
“Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the party. This is my daughter, Victoria.”
A girl in her late teens rose from her chair, though her bouffant skirts hid her feet from view. She had a kind, round face and long brown hair that fell in wavy curls down to her shoulders. She offered Rory a curtsy rather than her hand and he had enough sense to respond with a bow. “Miss Waterfield.”
“And lastly, Theodore Maxtible and his daughter Miss Ruth Maxtible. This fine estate we are enjoying is theirs. I cannot thank them enough for allowing Victoria and me to stay here.” Rory bowed again at Ruth and then he shook Maxtible’s hand. The man had wild grey hair with a bushy beard that matched and a small pair of glasses sat on his nose. He vaguely reminded Rory of Karl Marx.
“This is a lovely house, Mr. Maxtible.”
“Yes, it has been in my family for several generations. I would be happy to recount its history if you are interested, Mr. Bond.”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” said Rory, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as possible. He wasn’t here to learn about the house, but rather, something in the house.
A maid entered before Maxtible could speak again. “Dinner is served.”
Thanking his lucky stars, he followed the others into the dining room. The long table was set and several pieces of cutlery gleamed at each place setting. Since they had an odd number, Rory ended up sitting by himself on one side of the table while Ruth and Victoria sat across from him. Maxtible took the seat at the head of the table and Waterfield sat at the far end opposite.
The meal started off with a soup and there was the various small talk about the weather and the political climate of England. Maxtible was well opinionated, but he also kept asking Rory for his views. He spent more time talking than eating, and that was fine with him. He had barely taken more than a few sips before the next course came.
In a lull between topics, Victoria Waterfield finally spoke. “What brings you to the estate, Mr. Bond?”
It was strange hearing people call him by the wrong name. Rory also kept expecting everyone to follow up Mr. Bond with, “I expect you to die!” He really missed movies. “I heard about your father’s experiment. The Royal Society has taken quite an interest. We think it might have practical applications.”
“Time travel?” asked Ruth. She laughed. “My apologies, but I do not see anything practical about travelling through time.”
“Oh, it is quite practical, Miss Maxtible,” said Waterfield. His responses so far had been brief, but now his eyes lit up as he settled into a topic he knew passionately. “For instance, if you wished to know the weather for a party you are planning, you could travel into the future and see the conditions firsthand. Or perhaps you have lost something precious of yours. You could travel back in time to the last moment you saw it and recover it once back in the present day.”
“Oh, Edward, you think so small,” said Maxtible. He wiped his lips on his napkin. “I foresee applications in the military. You could see what your enemy is planning and devise a counter strike. Think of the wars we could win.”
“But aren’t you worried about the consequences?” Everyone looked to Rory. He hid a cringe. Harkness had told him not to interfere. He was supposed to observe only.
“How do you mean, Mr. Bond?” asked Waterfield.
“It’s just…” Rory sighed. He saw no way to back out of this gracefully. “By going to the past you could change the future. Or vice versa. Witnessing the future could change the past.”
The room fell silent as Waterfield and Maxtible thought this over. Ruth and Victoria politely continued to eat their dinners. Then Maxtible laughed. “Mr. Bond, you are full of entertaining notions. As Edward has explained it to me, time is insubstantial. How can you change something which does not exist?”
“Well…” Rory really had no answer for that. He wasn’t a professional time traveller. He was sure if the Doctor was here, he’d be able to argue a very valid point or at least be so confusing that Maxtible and Waterfield dropped the subject. “I don’t know. But that’s why I’m here!” he added with false cheer. “To learn, from you fine men… oh, look, the next course…”
Never had he been so grateful to see a plate of salad. Maxtible and Waterfield started talking about one of the neighbours and Ruth happily chimed in, now that they were discussing something more mainstream. Victoria continued her silence as she poked forlornly at the greens on her plate.
Rory could just hear Harkness now. “What part of ‘observe only’ did you not understand?”
The rest of dinner came and went with only one more mention of time travel. Waterfield invited Rory to see his invention in the morning and he gladly accepted. After that came desserts and then the men retired to have an after dinner drink and smoke. Rory declined to indulge in either, but he stayed for the ensuing conversation until both men decided that it was time to call it a night. They didn’t wait for the maid and turned out the lights themselves.
Rory lingered for a bit, staring out the windows at the darkened grounds. He had initially balked at Harkness’ claim that a scientist was developing a time machine, but from the way Waterfield and Maxtible spoke, it seemed like the pair truly believed that they had successfully created a way to travel through time.
The other lights in the house winked out until finally Rory couldn’t see the grounds at all. No, wait, that wasn’t true. One light remained on; he could see the faint glow on the lawn. One of the rooms on the main level was still occupied.
He stepped out into the hallway, thinking the staff had forgotten to turn off one of the gas lights. Even in the minimal illumination he had no troubles seeing and after one wrong turn he found the room in question. To his surprise, it wasn’t empty as he thought. Rory nearly turned back, but then he remembered this was Victorian England. Young women weren’t expected to be roaming the darkened corridors.
He knocked softly on the door. “Miss Waterfield? Is everything all right?”
Victoria tore her gaze away from the portrait above the unlit fireplace. “Mr. Bond.” She quickly wiped at her eyes with her right knuckle, as though she had been crying. “I thought everyone had retired for the night.”
“I don’t feel very tired,” admitted Rory. He slowly entered the small sitting room. How many sitting rooms did Maxtible need? As he looked around, he noticed that this one was more of a library. Shelves full of books lined the walls. The only places without books were the large double windows that opened out to the grounds and the wall with the fireplace. He glanced up at the portrait. It was of a young woman, dressed in a fancy gown and with her hair pinned up. She looked remarkably similar to Victoria.
“Then we have something else in common,” Victoria said in a soft voice.
“Something else?” Rory came up next to her. She was so much smaller than him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world.
She turned away from him, the skirts of her dress rustling like dry paper. “I also worry about the consequences of Father’s machine.”
No wonder Victoria had been so quiet during dinner. “Have you seen it, Victoria? Do you know if it works?”
“I have not.” She sat down in one of the chairs, clutching her hands together on her lap.
Rory didn’t want to push, but he had to know what he was getting in to. He sat down across her from. “Is that your portrait?” He decided to approach this like he was dealing with a difficult patient. Most opened up to him once they started talking about themselves and their lives. Victoria clearly wanted to talk, but she felt ill at ease.
Her hands tightened into fists until her knuckles were white. “That is my mother. She… she died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“No, it is quite all right.” Victoria smiled, trying to be polite, but it did little to chase away the sadness in her expression. “You did not know.”
“I lost someone, too, a long time ago.”
Victoria stared at him, sensing a kindred spirit. “It is difficult, I will admit. Father and I lost so much that day. We would have been left to live on the streets if not for Mr. Maxtible. He has been so generous.”
Rory could see that Victoria was praising her benefactor, but he didn’t hear the gratitude in her voice. “I’m sensing a but coming…” She frowned slightly at him. “Oh. ‘Mr. Maxtible has been so generous but…’”
Victoria hesitated, reluctant to voice thoughts she normally kept to herself. She took in an unsteady breath. “He fuels Father’s obsession with time travel. I wish Father would give up on the machine, but it is all he can think about. He does not see the danger he is in.”
“Danger?”
“You said you lost someone, Mr. Bond. Would you not give anything to have them back or to see them well one more time?”
Amy. Without a doubt, Rory would have done anything to see her that very second. He hadn’t admitted it at the time, when Harkness had given him the assignment, but he had selfish reasons for coming here. A working time machine. How could he resist, even if it was just a possibility? He could take the Pandorica into the future, to a period where a past version of Amy was alive. His long vigil could have been over in a flash.
“You spoke of the dangers of changing the past. I fear that is my father’s goal. To change the past, to prevent my mother’s death. But he cannot. There is nothing to change. He is trying to achieve the unattainable.” Victoria’s voice cracked, but no tears came. “Mr. Maxtible drives him towards madness and he does not care.”
Rory reached out and wrapped his hand around Victoria’s. She recoiled, but she soon relaxed when she looked into Rory’s eyes. He wasn’t trying to make any unwanted advances; he just wanted to comfort her. “Then let’s stop him. They’re showing me the machine tomorrow. I can destroy it, stop your father’s work.” He squeezed Victoria’s hand reassuringly. “Bring him back to the present.”
“I… I cannot ask you to do something so perilous. Father would be devastated but he would not hurt you. However, I cannot say the same for Mr. Maxtible.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” Rory said with a smile. “And I want to do this. The world isn’t ready for time travel.” To risk one man’s sanity just so he could have a shot at getting home wasn’t something Rory could do. He could wait, like he always did.
“Mr. Bond, I cannot thank you enough. I do, however, have one request.”
“Okay…”
“I want to be there when you confront Father and Mr. Maxtible.” Victoria glanced over at the portrait of her mother, as if the image could give her strength. “If he does not listen to you, perhaps I will have a chance.”
Rory paced in his room for the entire night. He had read a lot of science journals after the incident with the Atraxi and Prisoner Zero, but it didn’t make him an expert on everything scientific. He was aware of certain possibilities, but he couldn’t, for example, explain how the Large Hadron Collider worked. So it was easy enough to smash something, but he didn’t know what the results would be if he destroyed Waterfield’s machine. He didn’t even know how it worked. Could he even smash it without endangering everyone for a hundred mile radius?
The Doctor hadn’t really explained how the TARDIS worked. From what Rory had seen, piloting the time machine involved a lot of running around and smashing things with your fist. He wished now that the Time Lord had gone over some of the basics of time travel. Even a couple of hints would have helped to soothe his nerves.
The sun rose, but it was still too early to meet with Waterfield and Maxtible. Rory put on another shirt and changed his tie, but that only ate up about fifteen minutes. When he couldn’t stand being in his room any longer, he headed out, intent on taking a walk around the grounds.
He was walking by the kitchens when he saw the maid from last night. She had a few food items laid out on the sideboard and was about to grab a few more when she saw Rory. “Good morning, sir. You’re up bright and early.”
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“Too quiet, eh? I have a cousin who works as a maid in London. Always noisy she says. Would you like a cup of tea? Or I could get you something else.”
“No, that’s okay, um…” Rory trailed off, searching for a name.
The maid just smiled, like she didn’t mind that people only recognized her by her face and not by her name. “Mollie, sir, Mollie Dawson.”
“I don’t need anything right now, Mollie, but thanks for asking. I was going to take a walk around the grounds.”
“Best time to do it, sir. The birds are out and the sun’s just hitting the treetops. We’ll have a proper breakfast ready in an hour.”
Rory left Mollie to her work. She was so bright and cheerful. A simple life meant simple needs. He envied that.
Outside, he walked around the reflecting pool and then he did a quick tour of the gardens. There were still some flowers left, but autumn was on its way. As peaceful as it all was, Rory still didn’t feel at ease. Waterfield had put a lot of time and effort into this project, misguided though it was. He felt like he was going to kick down a child’s sandcastle.
It came time to head back in and he found Waterfield and Maxtible in the dining room, breakfasting on toast, eggs, and freshly cooked bacon. They greeted him warmly, having no idea what was to come. Rory took his seat from the previous night and engaged until small talk until both men were done eating.
“Well, Mr. Bond, prepare to be astonished,” said Maxtible.
The laboratory was in another wing of the house. They had just started to make their way when Victoria caught up with them. She kissed her father on the cheek as she bade him good morning. “Are you off to show Mr. Bond your machine, Papa?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Could I come along? You are always saying how wonderful it is.”
“I am afraid it would not interest you, my dear,” said Maxtible, speaking before Waterfield could. “The science is hardly exciting.”
“Oh, but I want to learn. You have taught me so much, Papa. If it is going to make you famous, I want to understand how your machine works.” It was the sort of sweet talk Amy used when she was in a good mood. A sugar-coated demand that flattered but also got her point across. Rory had been a target of such comments more than a few times. He considered himself lucky. Most times Amy just shouted at people if they weren’t doing as she expected.
“I do not see the harm, Theodore. We must educate the young so they can carry on our collective knowledge into the future.” Waterfield slipped his arm around Victoria’s and he escorted her down the hall, as though they were on their way to a ball.
“Once this machine works, you can simply send the knowledge to the future,” Maxtible muttered to himself.
Rory, at the rear of the party, heard every word. There would be great profit in a time machine. Any money Maxtible had sunk into the project would be returned to him, ten times over most likely. It seemed utterly believable as a motivation for wanting Waterfield to continue with his work.
The double doors to the laboratory were locked and Waterfield had to unlock them. As Rory waited, he wondered what he was going to see. A console with a central column like the TARDIS? A dodgem with a giant disk on the back like in the classic The Time Machine movie? A DeLorean? He had his doubts about the last one, but truly, he had no idea what to expect. What did a Victorian time machine look like? All copper and wood, like in steampunk?
The doors opened to a large sized room that perhaps had started life as a study before Waterfield moved in with his equipment. Now, there was a lab bench to one side of the room, laden with test tubes and beakers full of liquids, Bunsen burners, and other tools. A large wooden cabinet filled the other side of the room, though its closed doors gave no hint of what lay inside. Aside from a few chairs and two stools, that was about it for the furniture in the room. Unless Waterfield had invented a chameleon circuit as well, Rory saw nothing that looked like a time machine.
“Um it’s very neat.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Waterfield chuckled. “Were you anticipating a large contraption, Mr. Bond? With our theory, we have no need for a bulky and unwieldy machine.”
Maxtible sat down at the lab bench. “I have always had a fascination with time travel.” He pulled out a cigarette from his case and lit it with a match. “We must wait so long to see the future. Would it not be marvellous to see man’s achievements of tomorrow right now?”
“I suppose,” admitted Rory. He glanced at Victoria, but her attention was on her father. “What is your theory? For time travel, I mean.”
Waterfield gestured to Maxtible. “Theodore.”
Maxtible puffed on his cigarette. “Yes, now this is my theory: a mirror reflects an image, does it not?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you may be standing there, yet appear to be standing fifty feet away. Well, following the new investigations twelve years ago by J. Clark Maxwell into electromagnetism and the experiments by Faraday into static electricity, Waterfield and I first attempted to refine the image in the mirror, and then to project it.”
“In here, Mr. Bond,” said Waterfield, gesturing to the large cabinet, “are one hundred and forty-four separate mirrors. Each is of polished metal and each is subjected to electric charges - all positive.”
“Like repels like in electricity, and so next, Waterfield and I attempted to repel the image in the mirror, wherever we directed.”
“And that worked?” Rory couldn’t keep the criticism out of his voice. Even the Doctor’s vortex manipulator was more complex than a cabinet of mirrors and that was just a leather strap with a bunch of buttons on it.
Maxtible blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. “We are still refining our methods, but it is a promising start.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. Rory drifted closer to the cabinet. The inside of it sparkled like a mirror ball. He saw his image reflected a hundred times over, in different sizes and at different angles. “Is it safe?”
“When activated, the machine draws in large amounts of electricity,” said Waterfield. “We had to insulate the cabinet, as to avoid any unnecessary shocks.” He glanced to Victoria with a smile, but she didn’t laugh at her father’s small joke.
“Okay…” Lots of electricity was bad, but insulation was good. If Rory smashed it, he figured there would be lots of sparks and maybe a power outage, but nothing serious. The notion of seven years bad luck multiplied by one hundred and forty-four didn’t even deter him.
He crossed the room in a few hurried strides and snatched up a hammer from the lab bench. Turning on his heel, he raised the hammer above his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Waterfield, but I have to do this.” Rory tried to step forward towards the cabinet, but Waterfield threw himself into his path.
“Mr. Bond, what are you doing?”
“Listen to him, Papa,” pleaded Victoria. She wrapped her hand around her father’s arm and tried to pull him back. “This is for your own good.”
“Victoria?” Waterfield glanced between Rory and his daughter. “What is going on?” A frown pulled down his features.
“I can’t let you continue,” said Rory.
“A sentiment I share, Mr. Bond. Unfortunately…” Maxtible’s words were followed by the cocking of the hammer on a pistol. “You and I have two very different viewpoints.”
Rory froze, as did Waterfield and Victoria. Maxtible was on his feet and had a pistol trained on him and he didn’t look afraid to use it. He glanced up at the hammer, which he still held over his head. One quick swing and this would all be over. Even if Maxtible squeezed the trigger, the bullet wouldn’t do much to stop Rory. It would hurt, a lot, but he could live with that. He brought the hammer down just a fraction of an inch, wondering if Maxtible would notice.
“Theodore, what are you doing?” demanded Waterfield. He tried to take a step forward but Maxtible switched his aim, pointing it right at Waterfield’s chest.
Rory went as still as stone.
“This man is about to destroy our work, Edward. We cannot let him proceed!” Maxtible’s voice rose as his speech became more passionate. His eyes blazed with crazed fervour behind the lenses of his glasses.
“But must you shoot him?”
“No, you are right.” For a moment. Waterfield relaxed. Then Maxtible trained his gun on Victoria. The young woman let out a loud gasp. “Mr. Bond, step away from the cabinet or you will force me to do something most regrettable.”
He didn’t think about trying to make a move. Rory was fast, but he wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. He took a few steps back, away from the cabinet, and lowered his arm down to his side. For an extra show of good will, he dropped the hammer to the floor. “There. I’ve backed off. Now put the gun away.”
But it seemed like Maxtible wasn’t even listening. “Who are you really, Mr. Bond? Are you working for a rival? Were you planning to sabotage my machine?” The man’s aim refused to waver from Victoria. She looked beyond frightened, but she didn’t cry. She wasn’t even looking at Maxtible. All of her attention was on her father, as if he was the one Maxtible was targeting.
“I’ll tell you everything,” promised Rory. “Just put the gun down.”
“I am not-”
“Papa!”
Waterfield charged forward, moving remarkably fast. He shoved Maxtible and they crashed back into the lab bench, sending beakers and glass test tubes flying. Liquid chemicals smashed against the floor, creating hazardous puddles. Waterfield tried to wrestle the gun free, but Maxtible resisted. In the confusion, Maxtible dropped his cigarette, which he still held in his left hand.
With a loud whoosh, the chemicals ignited. Before Rory could even blink, there was a wall of flame between him and the two men. There was no way to the doors.
“Papa!” Victoria tried to rush forward, but the fire was too much. Rory pulled her back, wary of the flames himself.
Waterfield, still wrestling with Maxtible for control of the gun, briefly looked back. He met gazes with Victoria for just a second. “Activate the machine!”
“Papa?” She sounded so young in that moment.
“It works!”
Rory grabbed Victoria by the hand and he pulled her towards the cabinet. The flames were spreading and smoke was quickly filling the room. With the exit blocked and no other way out, it seemed like the time machine was their only option. There wasn’t time to doubt whether Waterfield was telling the truth or not. They had to get out of there before they burned to death.
He found the switch and flicked it on. A light within the cabinet began to glow and a low hum filled the air. Small sparks of electricity leapt from mirror to mirror to mirror.
“Waterfield, you liar!”
A shot rang out.
Victoria’s scream drowned out anything else. She began to fall to her knees, sobbing hysterically, but Rory grabbed her and picked her up before she could collapse completely. On the other side of the flames, Maxtible raised his gun.
Closing his eyes, with Victoria still in his arms, Rory jumped into the cabinet.
Everything was spinning. It was like an out of control merry-go-round. Colours swirled together, creating a messy blur. Up, down, none of that existed. It was just an endless vortex.
Vortex. Time Vortex.
They were in the Time Vortex.
As soon the realization hit Rory, he was seemingly thrown clear of the chaos. The world calmed around him until finally the spinning stopped and he was on solid ground again. He breathed heavily through his mouth, as though he were nauseous, but he felt perfectly fine. He just needed a moment to get his bearings.
He still held Victoria in his arms. Her whole body heaved with each sob. She didn’t seem aware that they had used her father’s time machine. Rory hugged her tight, afraid to let her go.
Around them, there was nothing but ruins; piles of burnt bricks and blackened timbers. The only thing that suggested that this used to be a building was the stone foundation. It was visible in places, demarking where the rooms used to be. The vague layout of the room where they stood seemingly matched the dimensions of the laboratory. This was Maxtible’s estate, destroyed by fire. They had travelled forward in time.
But how far?
“Victoria.” Rory stepped back so he could see her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she had finally stopped crying. “I’m sorry. I-”
She turned away from him, taking in their surroundings. She was quiet for about a minute or so before she asked, “Where are we? Where is Papa?”
“We… We haven’t gone anywhere. This is still Maxtible’s estate.”
“But it is…” A slight quiver entered Victoria’s voice. Rory reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she suddenly spun around to face him. “This is impossible, Mr. Bond! This is a trick.” Victoria proved to be quite nimble despite the wide skirt hampering her feet. She shot past Rory and climbed her way out of the rubble.
“Victoria!” He easily caught up with her and kept pace next to her as she headed for the road at the edge of the estate’s boundary. “We entered the cabinet, remember? Your father’s machine worked. This is the future.”
She refused to look at him, but Rory didn’t think she was mad at him. Anger was just easier to comprehend. It lit a fire in you, kept you going when it seemed like your entire life was crumbling around you. Victoria needed her anger right now, to make it through the next few minutes. The time to pause and mourn all she had lost would come later.
The hedges that marked the edge of the property and hid the estate from the road were still standing. Victoria stopped here and surveyed the stretch of road. A horse and cart slowly made its way down the dirt path towards them.
First and foremost, Rory saw a potential ride, but he also saw an opportunity to confirm where and when they were. He had no desire to prove Victoria wrong; he just needed to know for how long they had been gone. He waved his arms at the driver and almost immediately the horse picked up its pace. It wasn’t long before the cart had come to a stop in front of them. The driver began to tip his hat in greeting, but he stopped the second he saw Victoria.
“Miss Waterfield?” The man stared at her with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, as if expecting his vision of her to disappear.
“Mr. Clayton.” The sight of a familiar face soothed some of the tension in Victoria’s voice. “Could you possibly offer us a ride into town?”
“I, I… Of course, Miss Waterfield.” Clayton glanced around nervously. It was like he was expecting the dead to rise up from the earth.
“Mr. Clayton.” Rory had to all but shout the man’s name before his attention was back on them and even then he could barely look Rory in the eye. “This is going to sound strange, but can you tell us what year this is?”
Clayton, though still clearly confused, latched onto the simple question. “It is the year of our Lord, 1868.”
Time travel always seemed so precise in fiction. Enter the right date and time and voilà! You were somewhere, and somewhen, brand new. Since travelling with the Doctor, Rory was starting to see that time travel was anything but precise. No wonder it had taken the Time Lord twelve years, and then an additional two after that, to return to Amy in Leadworth.
An entire year gone in a flash. It was a strange feeling. He was used to living every second of every day. Now he was a year closer to his goal and he hadn’t done anything at all. It almost felt like cheating.
A knock sounded at the door of his room. The local inn had kindly taken them in for free until Victoria could sort out her situation. Things were a little slow going though, so Rory had decided to call in the one person he knew that could help.
He opened the door to reveal Captain Jack Harkness, who had on the same outfit he had been wearing when Rory had left for Maxtible’s estate just under a year ago. The man held a large bag and he dropped it by the door as he entered the room. Claiming the only chair in the small room, he sat down and said, “I know I said to take your time, but this seems a little excessive.” Harkness smiled at his own joke.
Rory didn’t laugh. He closed the door and considered taking a seat on the bed, but that seemed too comfy so he remained standing. Everyone in town knew about him and Victoria’ miraculous re-appearance, so he really didn’t care if anyone overhead them.
“Centurion, relax. I’m not here to yell at you.” Harkness reached into his coat and pulled out a worn journal. He tossed it to Rory. “I spoke to the bank manager in your message. I pulled some strings and got the vault opened. That was Waterfield’s. It’s a copy of his notes up until a few weeks before your visit.”
Intrigued, Rory opened the journal and quickly flipped through the pages. They were full of cramped handwriting, equations, and sketches. Little of it made sense to Rory. He was near the end when a page fell out and floated down to land on the floor. When he reached down to pick it up, he saw that the stray page was a charcoal drawing of Waterfield’s wife. The likeness was exactly the same as the portrait he had seen.
“Waterfield left everything he had to his daughter,” said Harkness. “Everything that belongs to Victoria Waterfield now is in that bag.”
Rory tucked the drawing back into the journal. “So did Waterfield know he was going to die? Why else would he arrange all this?”
“I read his journal on the ride down from London. Interesting stuff. It looks like he solved his time machine problems about a month earlier. Waterfield didn’t tell Maxtible because he was afraid his benefactor would try to use the machine for his own means. I think that’s what led him to put his affairs in order. He knew Maxtible would try to kill him.”
“But why not destroy the machine if he knew the harm it could do? He could have left with Victoria.” And none of this would have happened, were the unspoken words that followed Rory’s sentence.
Harkness shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, Centurion. How old are you? Things are never that simple.”
“I suppose not,” Rory said softly. He handed the journal back to the captain. “So what now? Victoria’s legally dead from the sound of things.”
“I have someone working on that. She’ll be legally alive by the end of the week.” Harkness’ efficiency was slightly startling. It was like he had all of this prepared beforehand, like he knew what was going to happen. Rory thought back to a few days ago, at least, it only seemed like a few days ago from his perspective. An observation he had filed away for later came to the forefront of his mind.
“You knew that Waterfield had a working time machine. You weren’t working off rumours.” He watched Harkness carefully, making note of the captain’s reaction.
The man hardly reacted. He gave a half shrug.
As innocent as he looked, Rory didn’t buy it. A claim that mirrors and electricity could allow someone to travel in time usually garnered laughter, not serious investigations. Harkness knew what was going on in that house and he had failed to tell Rory. He couldn’t help but think that if he had been better informed, no one would have had to die.
He had a next move, but it came with a serious risk. Maybe it was worth it, though, to hear the truth.
“You knew,” said Rory, “because of this.” He shot forward and grabbed Harkness by his left arm. He pulled back the sleeve of the coat, revealing a leather band strapped around the man’s wrist. It didn’t look like much and before Harkness could say that it was nothing, Rory flipped back the top flap on the strap. Compact metal buttons and a small screen lay hidden beneath. There was no way either could be mistaken for Victoria era technology.
Harkness gently pulled his arm free and snapped the flap back into place. His movements were casual, as though he were doing up the buttons on his cuffs. “So, you’re more than a handsome face.” He sounded more impressed than annoyed and the small smile on his face didn’t help either. With hardly any effort at all, the captain had put Rory off-kilter when it should have been the other way around.
Rory sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Harkness was good. He had to give him that. “And you’re a time traveller.” With his suspicions confirmed, it finally hit him full on. He was talking with someone from another time and he wasn’t wearing a bow tie.
“You are, too, or you wouldn’t have recognized my vortex manipulator.”
As expected, Harkness had picked up on the small detail, but to Rory’s surprise, it felt nice to finally have that a secret out in the open. It was one less lie he would have to tell, at least around Harkness. “It’s complicated, but yeah.”
“Everything’s complicated.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Rory couldn’t help but try for one more push. He just wanted one straight answer from Harkness. “You’ve visited the estate before, in a different time.” It didn’t quite make sense in Rory’s head – how could Harkness remember a visit from an alternative timeline that didn’t exist – but it was the only explanation. He had seen Waterfield’s experiment once before.
Rory expected a grin, to deflect the comment, but Harkness was strangely quiet for a moment. He stared at Rory with deep blue eyes and within that gaze he saw a weary man. “You accomplished more than I could have.”
An unspeakable tragedy lurked in those words.
“You should talk to Miss Waterfield before we leave for London tomorrow.” Harkness got to his feet and headed for the door, breaking the moment. “I expect she’d want to know about her father’s arrangements.”
“I will,” promised Rory. He watched Harkness leave the room. The captain was right about one thing. Everything was complicated.
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Date: 2013-08-31 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-01 09:38 pm (UTC)