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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (44/49)
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.
Jenny woke in the cab, groggy but in pain. Rory held her tight while Vastra comforted her. Someone else might have offered words of encouragement, like “Everything will be fine”, but Vastra regaled Jenny with her battle exploits and praised what a fine warrior Jenny was. This did the trick, though, and the young woman settled down, but she bit her bottom lip until it was white.
Fearing that she might black out again, the first thing Rory did when they arrived at the Royal Collection warehouse was to give Jenny some laudanum. He mixed it with some water; the strength of the brew was enough to put her into a light slumber. She wouldn’t be roused while Rory worked on her arm, but a hard enough nudge would wake her again if she did have a concussion.
Settling Jenny on the old sofa they had in the office, Rory went to work. He stitched up her arm first, using a sterilized needle, some thread, and a bottle of distilled alcohol. His tourniquet had helped to slow the blood loss, but his tie still came away soaked with blood.
The cast took more ingenuity. A quick raid on the Collection’s supplies yielded a plaster mixture used to fix damaged stonework. He grabbed a bucket and found some water and began to mix up the plaster. When he had enough, he tore up a spare shirt Jack kept around in the office into long strips and dipped them in the plaster. From there, it was business as usual. He had done up hundreds of casts back at the hospital and it was second nature to him. By the time he had finished wrapping up Jenny’s arm, the plaster strips had already begun to dry and harden. The cast felt heavier than normal, but at least it would keep the arm rigid while the bone knitted back together.
After a check on her head wound - no signs of a concussion, thank goodness - Rory went off to wash his hands. They were white from the plaster and since it had dried on his skin his fingers felt slightly stiff, too. He stepped out of the office and for the first time he noticed that Vastra wasn’t around. He had been so wrapped up with helping Jenny that he doubted he had noted the Silurian’s departure.
He also doubted that Vastra had left the building completely. She showed a surprising amount of affection for Jenny, especially for someone who had no love for ape descendants. Jenny’s statement that Vastra had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go hinted that the Silurian wasn’t as cold-blooded as she seemed.
Rory scrubbed his hands clean and checked on Jenny one more time before he wandered deeper into the warehouse. He didn’t want to go too far in case Jenny woke up. Allowing himself ten minutes, he took off down the familiar aisles.
He had taken off his coat and armour before working on Jenny, but his shirt was now stained with her blood. A change of clothes suddenly didn’t seem like a bad idea and he took a detour towards the Pandorica. His little den had grown over the years and he had a proper table now to go with the chairs, along with a chest to store his spare clothing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it didn’t need to be. Sooner or later he would move on from this place, too.
Rory already had his shirt unbuttoned when he noticed a glow coming from the vicinity of the Pandorica. The box itself wasn’t glowing; it was the familiar glow of candle light. He was certain he had extinguished all of the candles before he left for the night.
As the guards had no need to use candles, he knew who the culprit was. He appeared from behind the Pandorica, but something in his approach must have tipped off Vastra because she wasn’t surprised to see him. Or maybe she had been expecting him.
Not that she was acknowledging that he was there. All of her attention was on the Pandorica. One of her gloves were off, exposing her green, scaly hand, and she had it placed against the surface of the stone box. With her head cocked to one side, it was like she was listening to something.
Something akin to jealousy burned within Rory. The Pandorica was his responsibility. No one else should have been near it. He balled his hands into fists.
It took another second before his head caught up with his heart. He had no idea where that thought had come from. Jack and the Royal Collection staff were always around the Pandorica and he never had an issue before. But seeing Vastra near the Pandorica, it didn’t feel right.
Of course, it was obvious why he felt this way. Vastra was a Silurian. He wasn’t over that, not quite. Combine that with his aggravation about Vastra’s withholding of information and he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods.
Rory forced himself to relax and he walked over the chest containing his spare clothes. It was as he was taking off his shirt that Vastra finally turned away from the Pandorica. Much to his chagrin, Vastra started staring at him and he was certain she wasn’t examining his fine physique. “Jenny’s sleeping,” he said, trying to dispel the awkward silence.
He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but Vastra seemed to relax a bit at this piece of information. “Do you know what it is that you protect?” she asked, as Rory slipped on a new shirt. “What you have sacrificed your life for?” Her gaze drifted over the various scars on his chest and abdomen.
“I know what the Pandorica means to me.”
“So you know that it is not merely a stone box.”
Rory sat down heavily on one of the chairs. He wasn’t as surprised as he thought he would be. After all, Vastra knew he wasn’t human. It didn’t seem unlikely that she would be able to tell that the Pandorica was a piece of technology. The way she seemed to be listening to it came back to him. Maybe there was a slight vibration she could detect.
“My people invented stasis chambers for long term hibernation. Whoever made this consulted with a… Silurian.” The term summoned a sneer from Vastra.
It was familiar technology then. Maybe the army that had banded together to imprison the Doctor had included some Silurians, too.
Rory was also grateful for the segue. He couldn’t imagine a better time than now to discuss what had transpired in the warehouse. “Speaking of Silurians, you said the killer was one. The thing you were fighting didn’t look at all like you.”
“I was mistaken,” Vastra replied coolly.
“No, I think you knew all along, like how you knew the creature wouldn’t leave the area. You know what it is and you didn’t tell us. You could have saved Jenny a broken arm.” It was a low blow, bringing up Jenny, but Rory couldn’t think of any other way to invoke a response from Vastra.
Her snake like hiss told him he was on the right track. It hadn’t slipped his mind that she was now armed with three katanas.
“What was that thing, Vastra?”
She put her glove back on, methodically slipping the leather down over each finger. It seemed like she was trying to buy some time, but the slow, careful movements just unnerved Rory. It was like she was putting on her armour, getting ready for battle. His cane sword was in the chest and he was tempted to grab it. Just in case.
“You recognized me when we first met. That was not surprise. I could see it in your eyes.” Fully adorned, Vastra rested her right hand on the hilt of her katana.
Rory wasn’t quite sure where this was leading. Was it time for him and Vastra to “talk”? Honesty felt like the best approach for the moment. “I’ve met your kind before. In Wales.”
There was a pause as Vastra took this in. Maybe she was wondering how Rory could have met her kind if all of them still slept beneath the earth. “And they wronged you.”
Wronged. What a kind way to say “kidnapped your fiancée, attempted to kill everyone in a small town, and being shot dead”. His last memory of Restec, near death but with revenge still blazing in her icy blue gaze, swam before Rory’s eyes. He tried to block it out, but the memory played on. Restec with her gun, the Doctor in her sights. Him shouting the Doctor’s name and pushing the Time Lord out of the way. The red blast from the gun that ended it all.
Amy used to say he thought too much. When they were kids and he played the Raggedy Doctor, he always questioned why they were doing something. Why am I climbing this tree? Why are we battling evil toasters? Why do I have to eat fish fingers and custard? Everything needed to make sense for him.
But when he had pushed the Doctor out of the way, he hadn’t thought at all. He had just known that it was the right thing to do.
“There was one Silurian. She tried to hurt my friends, tried to kill everyone. She… looked a lot like you.”
“When you look at me, you want to take your revenge.” Vastra spoke without taking offence.
As confused as Rory was about the direction of the conversation, he was certain of one thing. He had his issues with Restec, but not with Silurians on a whole. Vastra just brought those thoughts to the surface because of her resemblance. “No, I don’t. You’re not her.”
With a few quick strides, Vastra crossed the distance between them, her hand still resting on her sword. And then she sat down on the other chair, like they were waiting to have tea. “Good.”
“What? Good why?”
Despite her approval, Vastra still shot a glare at Rory. It was the sort of look one reserved for people when they were acting like fools. “I wanted to know where you stood. We are fighting a Silurian.”
Rory was more surprised by the fact that Vastra had been assessing his emotional well-being. “The creature in the warehouse didn’t look like any Silurian I’ve seen.”
“We do not all look the same,” snapped Vastra.
“Okay, different races. Got it. But how did this Silurian end up here? Did it enter hibernation with you?”
Something was holding Vastra back. Rory could see it in the way she hesitated. She was trying to decide whether to give the whole truth or just a partial account. He had done similar omissions in his lengthy lifetime. In his case, he wanted to protect Amy. Maybe Vastra was protecting someone as well.
She took in a sharp breath, her decision made. “My people are a race of warriors. Anything that could advance our warfare techniques was pursued by our scientists. One area of particular focus was our soldiers.
“We valued the lives of my sisters too highly to send them into volatile situations. Initially we employed an aquatic subspecies as our foot soldiers. They were suited for life at the bottom of the ocean and their adaptations made them more resilient. The alliance worked, for a time.”
“Until they realized they were being used as cannon fodder?” hazarded Rory. The lack of a biting comment from Vastra was just as good as a confirmation.
“Our scientists were quick to devise a solution. It required testing first.”
“What was the solution?”
Vastra didn’t even flinch. “You saw it in the warehouse.”
It took Rory a moment to fully comprehend what Vastra had said. Then his brain started making the connections. Aquatic subspecies. Resilient. Testing. Foot soldiers. “Your scientists created a hybrid and they used another race of Silurian as the test subject? That’s barbaric. Who authorized…”
He wisely stopped talking before he could say any more. Vastra spoke like she had seen the experiments first hand, but he didn’t want to presume.
“It was the only one created. As you saw, the creature is unstable. Conditioning ensures that it does not leave a certain radius from its enclosure, but it will not stop it from killing again.”
Rory leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees, his steepled hands covering his mouth. A Silurian hybrid. He hadn’t been expecting that when he saw the article in the newspaper. As strange was this was, it was still a life. “The creature didn’t ask to be created. It doesn’t deserve to die.”
His display of gross sentiment got a derisive hiss from Vastra. “My people made a mistake. It is my responsibility to correct it.”
Rory rose to his feet. Ten minutes had passed, judging from the amount of melted wax around the candles. “I just wanted to know where you stood.” He headed back to the office to check on Jenny.
“Centurion.”
He stopped. A couple of steps more and he would have been beyond the glow of the candles. Instead, he turned back to Vastra. For the first time, he saw an emotion besides frustration and loathing in her features.
He saw gratitude.
“Thank you for looking after Jenny.”
Rory nodded his head. “You’re welcome.”
Rory became aware of a dark figure hovering over him and he looked up from his book. Vastra’s familiar cloaked form watched him intently and he could just make out her face within the shadowy depths of her hood. He dug out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was barely five o’clock in the morning.
“What are you reading?” He stood up and handed the book to Vastra. “A Study In Scarlet.”
“You might like it. The story involves tracking down a killer. Are we going somewhere?” Rory wanted to know if he needed his armour or not. He couldn’t see Vastra making a social call, not with the hybrid Silurian still on the loose.
Last night, or rather five hours ago, he had accompanied Vastra back to her house to get Jenny settled, but no plans to catch the hybrid had been put forward. Rory didn’t push for one and he had returned to the warehouse to wait for word from Jack. He had picked up the Sherlock Holmes novel to pass the time. He had read it before when he was a kid, but he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to buy a first edition.
“I require your assistance.” Vastra placed the book on the table.
“Is Jenny all right?” He missed having phones. So much time was wasted penning messages and having them delivered.
“She is fine, but restless.”
“What do you need my help with?”
“Meat.”
Not surprisingly, Vastra knew a good butcher. She usually relied on Jenny to place any orders, though, which was where Rory came in. He handed the note with their requirements to the butcher and while the man seemed a little confused as to why Rory would need thirty pounds of his freshest stock, money was money. Half an hour later Rory left the shop with three, large burlap sacks that weighed practically nothing for him. Without a cooler to regulate temperature, the meat’s juices were already seeping through the material and he tried not get any on his boots as he returned to Vastra’s private hansom.
He lifted the bags and looked around awkwardly at the spotless interior of the cab. “It is only meat,” sighed Vastra.
“We should have brought a tarp,” said Rory as he placed the bags on the floor of the cab. He suppressed a grimace as he climbed in next. A quick order came from Vastra to her driver and then they were off again.
As Vastra laid out the plan for him, Rory got the feeling that the Silurian hadn’t slept at all last night. She seemed to have spent the last five hours running around the city, scouting out possible locations and obtaining equipment. She didn’t approach this task with boundless enthusiasm, as the Doctor might have, but her determination was unshakeable. They wouldn’t be going home until the hybrid Silurian was caught.
They ended up back in the East End, outside of a rundown factory. The boarded over windows and faded signage told the tale. This was place was shutdown. Apparently that made it the perfect place to lay down a trap.
Vastra dismissed her driver and the man didn’t even balk that he was leaving his mistress in a shadier part of the city. He must have been very well paid indeed. Carrying the bags of meat, Rory followed Vastra inside the factory. The door they entered through had a broken lock and the damage looked fresh. Rory had broken into his fair share of buildings since meeting Jack and he had learned quite quickly to stop making comments about it.
It must have been a textile factory once upon a time. The mechanical looms were still in place, too big and too costly to move. The space smelled of dust and mold with a very faint trace of oil. On the whole, though, it smelled clean. There weren’t any other scents to get in the way of the overwhelming smell of raw meat.
“So what? We lay out the meat and wait?” asked Rory. He and Vastra stopped in a large cleared space, away from the machines.
“The scent will draw in the hybrid, but it needs to look appealing.”
“You want to build a man shaped meat pile?” Even as Rory spoke the words, he knew it was a ridiculous suggestion.
“No, I had another idea in mind.” Vastra smiled at him, her first smile since they met, and he just knew that he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
Five minutes later, Rory found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, practically buried beneath the slabs of meat. The juices were seeping into his clothes, making him smell like an abattoir. Vastra had even rubbed meat over his face and hair so that every inch of him came off smelling like a potential meal for the hybrid.
He sighed. There was no way the hybrid was going to fall for this. Fresh meat just sitting around in the middle of an abandoned factory? Even if it was unstable, it didn’t mean that the creature was stupid.
An hour. If nothing happened after an hour, he was getting up and suggesting another plan to Vastra. Closing his eyes, Rory tried to look as appealing as possible.
He was used to sitting around and doing nothing, but never with such a bad smell filling his nostrils. Once again, his thoughts drifted to Jack. He tried to picture the captain in this position and for the life of him he couldn’t. Knowing Jack, he probably would have thrown himself at the creature and allowed it to rip him to shreds so Vastra could move in for the kill. Rory was fully capable of doing the same, but he really didn’t want to end up looking like he had gone through a paper shredder.
If this had been the era of the camera phone, he was sure Vastra would have been taking funny photos of him right now.
When he finally heard the growl, Rory had to admit that maybe this plan wasn’t so daft after all. His hour wasn’t even up yet. He stayed absolutely still, thinking that any sudden movement might spook the hybrid. He was just a nice, meaty meal waiting to be chomped on. Nothing suspicious here.
The creature approached with amazing stealth. He barely heard its feet against the concrete floor. The only thing that gave it away was the slight rumble it made as it breathed, like a car engine on idle. If Rory didn’t know any better, it sounded like the creature had a chest infection or maybe a punctured lung. Maybe Vastra managed a few stabs with her katana before the hybrid ran off completely last night.
Inch by inch, the hybrid drew closer. Rory risked opening one eye just a fraction, but he saw nothing in the immediate area in front of him. The creature was probably approaching him from behind, which made sense. You didn’t sneak up in front of something, whether it was dead or alive. It was just safer that way. He had seen a hunter or two be gored in the stomach by a supposedly dead buck.
The hybrid was getting uncomfortably close, but Rory didn’t dare move until he was sure it was absolutely necessary. He was trusting Vastra to time everything perfectly and he didn’t want to throw off the entire plan because he got a little twitchy. If it came down to it, he could survive having a chunk of his plastic flesh ripped from his body. It wouldn’t be pretty though and he couldn’t imagine going the rest of his days with a gap in his shoulder.
Rory swore he felt a hot, fetid breath on the back of his neck when Vastra finally shouted, “Now!”
He leapt forward, knocking hunks of meat in all directions as he tucked into a roll. He didn’t see it, but he heard the rope slide through the pulleys, allowing the net strung overhead to fall. The weights tied to the ends made it drop faster and it crashed down on the hybrid with a thud. When Rory rolled to a stop and he looked back over his shoulder, he saw the hybrid tangled in the net, struggling to throw it off.
He felt the need to laugh, not to ridicule the hybrid’s situation, but to marvel at the fact that Vastra’s plan had actually worked. Extreme hunger clouded anyone’s thoughts it seemed, human or Silurian.
Rory had just let out a weak chuckle when the hybrid’s claws sliced right through the heavy net, tearing it to shreds. It flung the remains aside with an angry roar.
“Vastra!” Rory was on his feet in an instant and he charged straight at the hybrid. He didn’t tackle it to the ground, but he grabbed it from behind, pinning its arms to its side. With its claws now rendered useless, the creature began to thrash, to try to throw Rory off. He tightened his hold, squeezing his arms around it like he was a snake constricting around its prey, but it was already a losing battle. The hybrid was angry and that fuelled its strength. He could hold on for a handful of seconds, but no more.
Vastra flowed out of the shadows, her katana poised to strike. She hesitated when she saw Rory and for just a second, her resolve wavered.
He couldn’t tell where her killing blow would land. A stab to the chest he could survive, but he wasn’t sure about a sword to the throat or through his head. Vastra was ready to decapitate the hybrid for all he knew. But he couldn’t let go now. He would unleash the creature and it would most definitely attack Vastra before she could act.
“Do it!”
She scowled at him.
It happened so fast, he barely saw it. He wasn’t even sure that anything had happened, but then the hybrid went limp in his arms. Rory blinked a few times, replaying the moment over in his head. There was no mistake. Vastra had used her venomous tongue on the hybrid.
He lowered the creature to the floor. A red welt was forming on its neck. “You poisoned it.” All emotion was stripped from his voice. He was still too shocked to fully comprehend the ramifications.
“My venom does not kill others of my kind, only apes. The hybrid is unconscious.”
Rory looked more closely and indeed the creature’s chest rose and fell, though it was slow and subtle. He thought of saying thank you to Vastra, but he was certain she would have deflected the praise. “You should have bought a stronger net,” he joked instead.
“And you need to bathe, Centurion.” Vastra sniffed the air around him. “Though, you have never smelled more appealing.”
When she smiled at him this time, there was genuine mirth in her eyes.
“Honey, I’m home!”
Rory looked up from his book as Jack entered the office. He wasn’t that surprised to see large tears in Jack’s ulster. It looked like someone had attacked him with a kitchen knife. Or with claws.
Jack seemed just as blasé about the large cage that now sat in the centre of the office. He walked over to examine it. Its occupant let out a snarl and it tried to rush him from behind the bars. The chain looped around one of the cage’s bars that was attached to the collar around the hybrid’s neck prevented it from taking more than a few steps.
“You picked up a pet,” said Jack.
“It’s not a pet.” Rory put down his book and reached into the mocked-up cooler he had sitting next to the desk. He pulled out a raw steak and walked over to drop it into the cage. The hybrid immediately snatched it up and tore eagerly into the meat. “It’s responsible for the murder in the East End. It’s a hybrid. Silurian and one of their aquatic cousins.”
“Sea Devil.”
“Sorry?”
Jack watched in fascination as the hybrid wolfed down its snack. “The aquatic cousin. People call them Sea Devils in the future. I’ve met a few.” He looked over at Rory. “Think upright snapping turtles.”
Rory tried to picture it, and couldn’t, but it was a helpful distraction from the topic he wanted to discuss. “I couldn’t let Vastra kill it, Jack,” he said finally.
Its hunger sated, the hybrid quieted down. It tugged at the collar around its neck and it seemed to stare at Rory with an annoyed expression.
“I didn’t think you would. You’re the compassionate one, Centurion. Part of the reason I keep you around.” Jack took off his ulster, revealing an equally shredded shirt beneath. Thanks to his immorality, he healed quickly and the only evidence of a wound was the blood staining the fabric.
Rory couldn’t decide if Jack was being sincere or if he was joking. Maybe it was both. “But what are we going to do with it?”
Jack smiled. “While you were busy chasing Sea Silurians, I was saving the Queen from a werewolf.”
He just stared at the captain. The hybrid was equally quiet, as though it were following the conversation as well. “Werewolf?”
“It’s a long story. I’m surprised it took this long.”
“The story?”
“No, the werewolf.” Before Rory could say anything, Jack pushed on. “For saving her life, again, the Queen’s going to divert more funds our way. Bigger headquarters, additional staff, more resources. We could build something for our friend here.”
The werewolf thing was still a little confusing, but the rest of it was welcome news. “That’s great.” They could have proper storage for all of the alien artefacts they found and captivity was ten times better than letting the hybrid rot away in some cage.
“You think Vastra wants a job?”
The door opened, revealing a cloaked figure on the other side of the threshold. For a second, Rory felt like he was facing Death itself. But then, he seriously doubted that Death had green, scaly skin.
“You forgot your gloves,” said Rory, pointing to Vastra’s hands, which were just visible within the sleeves of her cloak.
She hissed with displeasure and left Rory to close the door behind him. “Jenny always answers the door.”
“How is she doing?” He took off his hat and followed Vastra into the drawing room. She pulled off her cloak and casually flung it aside. At a glance, the room looked the same, but Rory noticed a few things out of place. A pile-up of ash around the fireplace, melted wax on the side table from burnt down candles, an empty wine glass on the mantle. It wasn’t horribly messy, but it wasn’t spotless either.
“She insists that she is fine. I think otherwise.”
“Jenny doesn’t need to be bedridden. She just needs to take it easy until her arm heals.” Rory really hoped that Vastra hadn’t tied Jenny to her bed or had done anything else equally drastic.
“Do you need something?” If Vastra had been aiming for a civil tone, it came out sounding more stand-offish.
“I just thought you’d like to know that Jack and I are keeping the hybrid alive.”
“As a pet?” The words were said with such disdain that Rory expected Vastra’s venomous tongue to lash out at him.
“No, as a…” He came up blank on an appropriate term. What were animals called when they were kept in a zoo? Because that was basically what he and Jack were doing. “As a resident of Torchwood,” Rory decided. “We’ll look after it.”
“You have far more compassion than I, Centurion.”
Rory laughed softly. “Jack said the same thing.”
“Of course he would. The years have made him cynical. You are the opposite. It is… noble.”
Coming from Vastra, that was high praise indeed. Rory felt like he should run away now, just in case she suddenly changed her mind. “He’s offering you a job, you know. Jack wants you to work for Torchwood.”
“I have an occupation.” Vastra picked up one of her katanas from the sofa.
Even though she was holding a sword, Rory just had to know. “What do you do for a living?”
Her wide smile revealed serrated teeth. “Justice.”
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
Jenny woke in the cab, groggy but in pain. Rory held her tight while Vastra comforted her. Someone else might have offered words of encouragement, like “Everything will be fine”, but Vastra regaled Jenny with her battle exploits and praised what a fine warrior Jenny was. This did the trick, though, and the young woman settled down, but she bit her bottom lip until it was white.
Fearing that she might black out again, the first thing Rory did when they arrived at the Royal Collection warehouse was to give Jenny some laudanum. He mixed it with some water; the strength of the brew was enough to put her into a light slumber. She wouldn’t be roused while Rory worked on her arm, but a hard enough nudge would wake her again if she did have a concussion.
Settling Jenny on the old sofa they had in the office, Rory went to work. He stitched up her arm first, using a sterilized needle, some thread, and a bottle of distilled alcohol. His tourniquet had helped to slow the blood loss, but his tie still came away soaked with blood.
The cast took more ingenuity. A quick raid on the Collection’s supplies yielded a plaster mixture used to fix damaged stonework. He grabbed a bucket and found some water and began to mix up the plaster. When he had enough, he tore up a spare shirt Jack kept around in the office into long strips and dipped them in the plaster. From there, it was business as usual. He had done up hundreds of casts back at the hospital and it was second nature to him. By the time he had finished wrapping up Jenny’s arm, the plaster strips had already begun to dry and harden. The cast felt heavier than normal, but at least it would keep the arm rigid while the bone knitted back together.
After a check on her head wound - no signs of a concussion, thank goodness - Rory went off to wash his hands. They were white from the plaster and since it had dried on his skin his fingers felt slightly stiff, too. He stepped out of the office and for the first time he noticed that Vastra wasn’t around. He had been so wrapped up with helping Jenny that he doubted he had noted the Silurian’s departure.
He also doubted that Vastra had left the building completely. She showed a surprising amount of affection for Jenny, especially for someone who had no love for ape descendants. Jenny’s statement that Vastra had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go hinted that the Silurian wasn’t as cold-blooded as she seemed.
Rory scrubbed his hands clean and checked on Jenny one more time before he wandered deeper into the warehouse. He didn’t want to go too far in case Jenny woke up. Allowing himself ten minutes, he took off down the familiar aisles.
He had taken off his coat and armour before working on Jenny, but his shirt was now stained with her blood. A change of clothes suddenly didn’t seem like a bad idea and he took a detour towards the Pandorica. His little den had grown over the years and he had a proper table now to go with the chairs, along with a chest to store his spare clothing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it didn’t need to be. Sooner or later he would move on from this place, too.
Rory already had his shirt unbuttoned when he noticed a glow coming from the vicinity of the Pandorica. The box itself wasn’t glowing; it was the familiar glow of candle light. He was certain he had extinguished all of the candles before he left for the night.
As the guards had no need to use candles, he knew who the culprit was. He appeared from behind the Pandorica, but something in his approach must have tipped off Vastra because she wasn’t surprised to see him. Or maybe she had been expecting him.
Not that she was acknowledging that he was there. All of her attention was on the Pandorica. One of her gloves were off, exposing her green, scaly hand, and she had it placed against the surface of the stone box. With her head cocked to one side, it was like she was listening to something.
Something akin to jealousy burned within Rory. The Pandorica was his responsibility. No one else should have been near it. He balled his hands into fists.
It took another second before his head caught up with his heart. He had no idea where that thought had come from. Jack and the Royal Collection staff were always around the Pandorica and he never had an issue before. But seeing Vastra near the Pandorica, it didn’t feel right.
Of course, it was obvious why he felt this way. Vastra was a Silurian. He wasn’t over that, not quite. Combine that with his aggravation about Vastra’s withholding of information and he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods.
Rory forced himself to relax and he walked over the chest containing his spare clothes. It was as he was taking off his shirt that Vastra finally turned away from the Pandorica. Much to his chagrin, Vastra started staring at him and he was certain she wasn’t examining his fine physique. “Jenny’s sleeping,” he said, trying to dispel the awkward silence.
He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but Vastra seemed to relax a bit at this piece of information. “Do you know what it is that you protect?” she asked, as Rory slipped on a new shirt. “What you have sacrificed your life for?” Her gaze drifted over the various scars on his chest and abdomen.
“I know what the Pandorica means to me.”
“So you know that it is not merely a stone box.”
Rory sat down heavily on one of the chairs. He wasn’t as surprised as he thought he would be. After all, Vastra knew he wasn’t human. It didn’t seem unlikely that she would be able to tell that the Pandorica was a piece of technology. The way she seemed to be listening to it came back to him. Maybe there was a slight vibration she could detect.
“My people invented stasis chambers for long term hibernation. Whoever made this consulted with a… Silurian.” The term summoned a sneer from Vastra.
It was familiar technology then. Maybe the army that had banded together to imprison the Doctor had included some Silurians, too.
Rory was also grateful for the segue. He couldn’t imagine a better time than now to discuss what had transpired in the warehouse. “Speaking of Silurians, you said the killer was one. The thing you were fighting didn’t look at all like you.”
“I was mistaken,” Vastra replied coolly.
“No, I think you knew all along, like how you knew the creature wouldn’t leave the area. You know what it is and you didn’t tell us. You could have saved Jenny a broken arm.” It was a low blow, bringing up Jenny, but Rory couldn’t think of any other way to invoke a response from Vastra.
Her snake like hiss told him he was on the right track. It hadn’t slipped his mind that she was now armed with three katanas.
“What was that thing, Vastra?”
She put her glove back on, methodically slipping the leather down over each finger. It seemed like she was trying to buy some time, but the slow, careful movements just unnerved Rory. It was like she was putting on her armour, getting ready for battle. His cane sword was in the chest and he was tempted to grab it. Just in case.
“You recognized me when we first met. That was not surprise. I could see it in your eyes.” Fully adorned, Vastra rested her right hand on the hilt of her katana.
Rory wasn’t quite sure where this was leading. Was it time for him and Vastra to “talk”? Honesty felt like the best approach for the moment. “I’ve met your kind before. In Wales.”
There was a pause as Vastra took this in. Maybe she was wondering how Rory could have met her kind if all of them still slept beneath the earth. “And they wronged you.”
Wronged. What a kind way to say “kidnapped your fiancée, attempted to kill everyone in a small town, and being shot dead”. His last memory of Restec, near death but with revenge still blazing in her icy blue gaze, swam before Rory’s eyes. He tried to block it out, but the memory played on. Restec with her gun, the Doctor in her sights. Him shouting the Doctor’s name and pushing the Time Lord out of the way. The red blast from the gun that ended it all.
Amy used to say he thought too much. When they were kids and he played the Raggedy Doctor, he always questioned why they were doing something. Why am I climbing this tree? Why are we battling evil toasters? Why do I have to eat fish fingers and custard? Everything needed to make sense for him.
But when he had pushed the Doctor out of the way, he hadn’t thought at all. He had just known that it was the right thing to do.
“There was one Silurian. She tried to hurt my friends, tried to kill everyone. She… looked a lot like you.”
“When you look at me, you want to take your revenge.” Vastra spoke without taking offence.
As confused as Rory was about the direction of the conversation, he was certain of one thing. He had his issues with Restec, but not with Silurians on a whole. Vastra just brought those thoughts to the surface because of her resemblance. “No, I don’t. You’re not her.”
With a few quick strides, Vastra crossed the distance between them, her hand still resting on her sword. And then she sat down on the other chair, like they were waiting to have tea. “Good.”
“What? Good why?”
Despite her approval, Vastra still shot a glare at Rory. It was the sort of look one reserved for people when they were acting like fools. “I wanted to know where you stood. We are fighting a Silurian.”
Rory was more surprised by the fact that Vastra had been assessing his emotional well-being. “The creature in the warehouse didn’t look like any Silurian I’ve seen.”
“We do not all look the same,” snapped Vastra.
“Okay, different races. Got it. But how did this Silurian end up here? Did it enter hibernation with you?”
Something was holding Vastra back. Rory could see it in the way she hesitated. She was trying to decide whether to give the whole truth or just a partial account. He had done similar omissions in his lengthy lifetime. In his case, he wanted to protect Amy. Maybe Vastra was protecting someone as well.
She took in a sharp breath, her decision made. “My people are a race of warriors. Anything that could advance our warfare techniques was pursued by our scientists. One area of particular focus was our soldiers.
“We valued the lives of my sisters too highly to send them into volatile situations. Initially we employed an aquatic subspecies as our foot soldiers. They were suited for life at the bottom of the ocean and their adaptations made them more resilient. The alliance worked, for a time.”
“Until they realized they were being used as cannon fodder?” hazarded Rory. The lack of a biting comment from Vastra was just as good as a confirmation.
“Our scientists were quick to devise a solution. It required testing first.”
“What was the solution?”
Vastra didn’t even flinch. “You saw it in the warehouse.”
It took Rory a moment to fully comprehend what Vastra had said. Then his brain started making the connections. Aquatic subspecies. Resilient. Testing. Foot soldiers. “Your scientists created a hybrid and they used another race of Silurian as the test subject? That’s barbaric. Who authorized…”
He wisely stopped talking before he could say any more. Vastra spoke like she had seen the experiments first hand, but he didn’t want to presume.
“It was the only one created. As you saw, the creature is unstable. Conditioning ensures that it does not leave a certain radius from its enclosure, but it will not stop it from killing again.”
Rory leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees, his steepled hands covering his mouth. A Silurian hybrid. He hadn’t been expecting that when he saw the article in the newspaper. As strange was this was, it was still a life. “The creature didn’t ask to be created. It doesn’t deserve to die.”
His display of gross sentiment got a derisive hiss from Vastra. “My people made a mistake. It is my responsibility to correct it.”
Rory rose to his feet. Ten minutes had passed, judging from the amount of melted wax around the candles. “I just wanted to know where you stood.” He headed back to the office to check on Jenny.
“Centurion.”
He stopped. A couple of steps more and he would have been beyond the glow of the candles. Instead, he turned back to Vastra. For the first time, he saw an emotion besides frustration and loathing in her features.
He saw gratitude.
“Thank you for looking after Jenny.”
Rory nodded his head. “You’re welcome.”
Rory became aware of a dark figure hovering over him and he looked up from his book. Vastra’s familiar cloaked form watched him intently and he could just make out her face within the shadowy depths of her hood. He dug out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was barely five o’clock in the morning.
“What are you reading?” He stood up and handed the book to Vastra. “A Study In Scarlet.”
“You might like it. The story involves tracking down a killer. Are we going somewhere?” Rory wanted to know if he needed his armour or not. He couldn’t see Vastra making a social call, not with the hybrid Silurian still on the loose.
Last night, or rather five hours ago, he had accompanied Vastra back to her house to get Jenny settled, but no plans to catch the hybrid had been put forward. Rory didn’t push for one and he had returned to the warehouse to wait for word from Jack. He had picked up the Sherlock Holmes novel to pass the time. He had read it before when he was a kid, but he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to buy a first edition.
“I require your assistance.” Vastra placed the book on the table.
“Is Jenny all right?” He missed having phones. So much time was wasted penning messages and having them delivered.
“She is fine, but restless.”
“What do you need my help with?”
“Meat.”
Not surprisingly, Vastra knew a good butcher. She usually relied on Jenny to place any orders, though, which was where Rory came in. He handed the note with their requirements to the butcher and while the man seemed a little confused as to why Rory would need thirty pounds of his freshest stock, money was money. Half an hour later Rory left the shop with three, large burlap sacks that weighed practically nothing for him. Without a cooler to regulate temperature, the meat’s juices were already seeping through the material and he tried not get any on his boots as he returned to Vastra’s private hansom.
He lifted the bags and looked around awkwardly at the spotless interior of the cab. “It is only meat,” sighed Vastra.
“We should have brought a tarp,” said Rory as he placed the bags on the floor of the cab. He suppressed a grimace as he climbed in next. A quick order came from Vastra to her driver and then they were off again.
As Vastra laid out the plan for him, Rory got the feeling that the Silurian hadn’t slept at all last night. She seemed to have spent the last five hours running around the city, scouting out possible locations and obtaining equipment. She didn’t approach this task with boundless enthusiasm, as the Doctor might have, but her determination was unshakeable. They wouldn’t be going home until the hybrid Silurian was caught.
They ended up back in the East End, outside of a rundown factory. The boarded over windows and faded signage told the tale. This was place was shutdown. Apparently that made it the perfect place to lay down a trap.
Vastra dismissed her driver and the man didn’t even balk that he was leaving his mistress in a shadier part of the city. He must have been very well paid indeed. Carrying the bags of meat, Rory followed Vastra inside the factory. The door they entered through had a broken lock and the damage looked fresh. Rory had broken into his fair share of buildings since meeting Jack and he had learned quite quickly to stop making comments about it.
It must have been a textile factory once upon a time. The mechanical looms were still in place, too big and too costly to move. The space smelled of dust and mold with a very faint trace of oil. On the whole, though, it smelled clean. There weren’t any other scents to get in the way of the overwhelming smell of raw meat.
“So what? We lay out the meat and wait?” asked Rory. He and Vastra stopped in a large cleared space, away from the machines.
“The scent will draw in the hybrid, but it needs to look appealing.”
“You want to build a man shaped meat pile?” Even as Rory spoke the words, he knew it was a ridiculous suggestion.
“No, I had another idea in mind.” Vastra smiled at him, her first smile since they met, and he just knew that he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
Five minutes later, Rory found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, practically buried beneath the slabs of meat. The juices were seeping into his clothes, making him smell like an abattoir. Vastra had even rubbed meat over his face and hair so that every inch of him came off smelling like a potential meal for the hybrid.
He sighed. There was no way the hybrid was going to fall for this. Fresh meat just sitting around in the middle of an abandoned factory? Even if it was unstable, it didn’t mean that the creature was stupid.
An hour. If nothing happened after an hour, he was getting up and suggesting another plan to Vastra. Closing his eyes, Rory tried to look as appealing as possible.
He was used to sitting around and doing nothing, but never with such a bad smell filling his nostrils. Once again, his thoughts drifted to Jack. He tried to picture the captain in this position and for the life of him he couldn’t. Knowing Jack, he probably would have thrown himself at the creature and allowed it to rip him to shreds so Vastra could move in for the kill. Rory was fully capable of doing the same, but he really didn’t want to end up looking like he had gone through a paper shredder.
If this had been the era of the camera phone, he was sure Vastra would have been taking funny photos of him right now.
When he finally heard the growl, Rory had to admit that maybe this plan wasn’t so daft after all. His hour wasn’t even up yet. He stayed absolutely still, thinking that any sudden movement might spook the hybrid. He was just a nice, meaty meal waiting to be chomped on. Nothing suspicious here.
The creature approached with amazing stealth. He barely heard its feet against the concrete floor. The only thing that gave it away was the slight rumble it made as it breathed, like a car engine on idle. If Rory didn’t know any better, it sounded like the creature had a chest infection or maybe a punctured lung. Maybe Vastra managed a few stabs with her katana before the hybrid ran off completely last night.
Inch by inch, the hybrid drew closer. Rory risked opening one eye just a fraction, but he saw nothing in the immediate area in front of him. The creature was probably approaching him from behind, which made sense. You didn’t sneak up in front of something, whether it was dead or alive. It was just safer that way. He had seen a hunter or two be gored in the stomach by a supposedly dead buck.
The hybrid was getting uncomfortably close, but Rory didn’t dare move until he was sure it was absolutely necessary. He was trusting Vastra to time everything perfectly and he didn’t want to throw off the entire plan because he got a little twitchy. If it came down to it, he could survive having a chunk of his plastic flesh ripped from his body. It wouldn’t be pretty though and he couldn’t imagine going the rest of his days with a gap in his shoulder.
Rory swore he felt a hot, fetid breath on the back of his neck when Vastra finally shouted, “Now!”
He leapt forward, knocking hunks of meat in all directions as he tucked into a roll. He didn’t see it, but he heard the rope slide through the pulleys, allowing the net strung overhead to fall. The weights tied to the ends made it drop faster and it crashed down on the hybrid with a thud. When Rory rolled to a stop and he looked back over his shoulder, he saw the hybrid tangled in the net, struggling to throw it off.
He felt the need to laugh, not to ridicule the hybrid’s situation, but to marvel at the fact that Vastra’s plan had actually worked. Extreme hunger clouded anyone’s thoughts it seemed, human or Silurian.
Rory had just let out a weak chuckle when the hybrid’s claws sliced right through the heavy net, tearing it to shreds. It flung the remains aside with an angry roar.
“Vastra!” Rory was on his feet in an instant and he charged straight at the hybrid. He didn’t tackle it to the ground, but he grabbed it from behind, pinning its arms to its side. With its claws now rendered useless, the creature began to thrash, to try to throw Rory off. He tightened his hold, squeezing his arms around it like he was a snake constricting around its prey, but it was already a losing battle. The hybrid was angry and that fuelled its strength. He could hold on for a handful of seconds, but no more.
Vastra flowed out of the shadows, her katana poised to strike. She hesitated when she saw Rory and for just a second, her resolve wavered.
He couldn’t tell where her killing blow would land. A stab to the chest he could survive, but he wasn’t sure about a sword to the throat or through his head. Vastra was ready to decapitate the hybrid for all he knew. But he couldn’t let go now. He would unleash the creature and it would most definitely attack Vastra before she could act.
“Do it!”
She scowled at him.
It happened so fast, he barely saw it. He wasn’t even sure that anything had happened, but then the hybrid went limp in his arms. Rory blinked a few times, replaying the moment over in his head. There was no mistake. Vastra had used her venomous tongue on the hybrid.
He lowered the creature to the floor. A red welt was forming on its neck. “You poisoned it.” All emotion was stripped from his voice. He was still too shocked to fully comprehend the ramifications.
“My venom does not kill others of my kind, only apes. The hybrid is unconscious.”
Rory looked more closely and indeed the creature’s chest rose and fell, though it was slow and subtle. He thought of saying thank you to Vastra, but he was certain she would have deflected the praise. “You should have bought a stronger net,” he joked instead.
“And you need to bathe, Centurion.” Vastra sniffed the air around him. “Though, you have never smelled more appealing.”
When she smiled at him this time, there was genuine mirth in her eyes.
“Honey, I’m home!”
Rory looked up from his book as Jack entered the office. He wasn’t that surprised to see large tears in Jack’s ulster. It looked like someone had attacked him with a kitchen knife. Or with claws.
Jack seemed just as blasé about the large cage that now sat in the centre of the office. He walked over to examine it. Its occupant let out a snarl and it tried to rush him from behind the bars. The chain looped around one of the cage’s bars that was attached to the collar around the hybrid’s neck prevented it from taking more than a few steps.
“You picked up a pet,” said Jack.
“It’s not a pet.” Rory put down his book and reached into the mocked-up cooler he had sitting next to the desk. He pulled out a raw steak and walked over to drop it into the cage. The hybrid immediately snatched it up and tore eagerly into the meat. “It’s responsible for the murder in the East End. It’s a hybrid. Silurian and one of their aquatic cousins.”
“Sea Devil.”
“Sorry?”
Jack watched in fascination as the hybrid wolfed down its snack. “The aquatic cousin. People call them Sea Devils in the future. I’ve met a few.” He looked over at Rory. “Think upright snapping turtles.”
Rory tried to picture it, and couldn’t, but it was a helpful distraction from the topic he wanted to discuss. “I couldn’t let Vastra kill it, Jack,” he said finally.
Its hunger sated, the hybrid quieted down. It tugged at the collar around its neck and it seemed to stare at Rory with an annoyed expression.
“I didn’t think you would. You’re the compassionate one, Centurion. Part of the reason I keep you around.” Jack took off his ulster, revealing an equally shredded shirt beneath. Thanks to his immorality, he healed quickly and the only evidence of a wound was the blood staining the fabric.
Rory couldn’t decide if Jack was being sincere or if he was joking. Maybe it was both. “But what are we going to do with it?”
Jack smiled. “While you were busy chasing Sea Silurians, I was saving the Queen from a werewolf.”
He just stared at the captain. The hybrid was equally quiet, as though it were following the conversation as well. “Werewolf?”
“It’s a long story. I’m surprised it took this long.”
“The story?”
“No, the werewolf.” Before Rory could say anything, Jack pushed on. “For saving her life, again, the Queen’s going to divert more funds our way. Bigger headquarters, additional staff, more resources. We could build something for our friend here.”
The werewolf thing was still a little confusing, but the rest of it was welcome news. “That’s great.” They could have proper storage for all of the alien artefacts they found and captivity was ten times better than letting the hybrid rot away in some cage.
“You think Vastra wants a job?”
The door opened, revealing a cloaked figure on the other side of the threshold. For a second, Rory felt like he was facing Death itself. But then, he seriously doubted that Death had green, scaly skin.
“You forgot your gloves,” said Rory, pointing to Vastra’s hands, which were just visible within the sleeves of her cloak.
She hissed with displeasure and left Rory to close the door behind him. “Jenny always answers the door.”
“How is she doing?” He took off his hat and followed Vastra into the drawing room. She pulled off her cloak and casually flung it aside. At a glance, the room looked the same, but Rory noticed a few things out of place. A pile-up of ash around the fireplace, melted wax on the side table from burnt down candles, an empty wine glass on the mantle. It wasn’t horribly messy, but it wasn’t spotless either.
“She insists that she is fine. I think otherwise.”
“Jenny doesn’t need to be bedridden. She just needs to take it easy until her arm heals.” Rory really hoped that Vastra hadn’t tied Jenny to her bed or had done anything else equally drastic.
“Do you need something?” If Vastra had been aiming for a civil tone, it came out sounding more stand-offish.
“I just thought you’d like to know that Jack and I are keeping the hybrid alive.”
“As a pet?” The words were said with such disdain that Rory expected Vastra’s venomous tongue to lash out at him.
“No, as a…” He came up blank on an appropriate term. What were animals called when they were kept in a zoo? Because that was basically what he and Jack were doing. “As a resident of Torchwood,” Rory decided. “We’ll look after it.”
“You have far more compassion than I, Centurion.”
Rory laughed softly. “Jack said the same thing.”
“Of course he would. The years have made him cynical. You are the opposite. It is… noble.”
Coming from Vastra, that was high praise indeed. Rory felt like he should run away now, just in case she suddenly changed her mind. “He’s offering you a job, you know. Jack wants you to work for Torchwood.”
“I have an occupation.” Vastra picked up one of her katanas from the sofa.
Even though she was holding a sword, Rory just had to know. “What do you do for a living?”
Her wide smile revealed serrated teeth. “Justice.”
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