Doctor Who | Argumentum Ad Metam | Chapter Five

[eponymous_rose]

Title: Argumentum Ad Metam (5/6)
Author: eponymous_rose
Word Count: 4163
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Mystery, Adventure
Spoilers: Set between Terror of the Autons and The Mind of Evil.
Characters: Third Doctor, Jo Grant, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, UNIT

Previous Chapters

Summary: When a warehouse burns to the ground for no apparent reason - and the only living witness claims to have seen fire-breathing demons - the Doctor and Jo become embroiled in a deadly confrontation against an opponent who knows them only too well.



CHAPTER FIVE

"Here you are." Startled, Jo glanced up to see Mike offering her a cuppa. "Hot, sweet tea," he clarified. "Just the thing."

"Right," she said. When she reached for the mug, she noticed that her hands had finally stopped shaking. "Thanks, Mike."

The setting sun was casting streams of light across the lab, reflecting off the intricate glasswork and wiring all over the Doctor's lab bench; she must have been sitting in the same spot for several hours, now. Mike was still hovering at her side, and Jo, blowing on her tea to cool it, rather wished he'd just let her alone for a few moments - he'd been making excuses to come in and see her at every possible opportunity.

"Jo," he said, and crouched down in front of her. "I just wanted to- that is, I'm really sorry about what happened."

Jo watched the steam rise from her mug, swirling in the air and dissolving away. "So am I," she said. "It's a terrible waste."

He frowned, opened his mouth as though to say something more, then sighed and stood up. "Look, Jo, I don't know what the Doctor was thinking-"

She glanced up. "Taking me along, you mean?" Her hands tightened around the cup of tea; she'd expected this, she had, and ordinarily it wasn't quite so frustrating, but she'd seen Marty kill himself, and it was done, and that was all there was to it. She kept her voice as level as she could. "I'm his assistant, Mike. I had every right to go along with him. We just thought it was going to be an interview"

Mike was wary at the sudden tension in her voice, but his condescending tone hadn't lessened. "Yes, I know. But Jo, I've seen what this sort of life does to people."

Her hands were shaking again, this time with anger, though her voice remained calm. "And you don't think I'm cut out for it, do you?" He was shaking his head in denial, but she ploughed on. "Mike, I'm a fully trained member of UNIT."

"Junior member, Jo," Mike said automatically, and then winced. "Look, I didn't mean-"

Jo set her cup on the lab bench with somewhat more force than she'd intended, and some of the tea sloshed out. Mike, without comment, moved off to fetch a towel. "I'm tired of it, Mike," she said, and noticed with some surprise that she was close to tears. As he wiped off the lab bench, she leaned forward. "I mean, there's nobody on my side here; everyone would much rather I just sat in a corner and- and called up supply warehouses and chased down requisition slips. I might as well just stand in a corner, sprout a few extra arms, and call myself a hat-rack!"

For just a brief moment, his lip twitched in a smile. She blinked at him, and he raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, Jo. But it's a bit of a funny image."

She sighed. "Mike, you're impossible." But now he was smiling at her in earnest, and she couldn't resist a faint grin in reply.

"That's more like it," said Mike. He tossed the towel into the corner of the room - the Doctor would love that, she was sure - and patted her shoulder. "Come on. You should be walking around a bit, get the circulation going."

With his help, she stumbled to her feet; her whole body ached, like she'd - well, like she'd fallen down a flight of stairs. She tried to hide her wince at the stiffness, and Mike didn't speak, just took her arm and let her hang on until she'd regained her balance. "How's Sergeant Benton?" she said after a moment.

"Oh, he'll be all right," said Mike, grinning. "He's still in hospital, but I think at this point he's playing it up to get a few days off shift."

Jo laughed. "Can you blame him?"

Mike shrugged, still smiling. "You know," he said, "the Doctor really has been fighting for you, Jo, trying to keep you in the thick of things."

Jo snorted and stretched her arms over her head, noting with relief that the pain in her burned arm had subsided to a dull ache. "I don't think so, Mike. I keep having to persuade him not to- well, not to just leave me behind all the time."

"Well," he said, and his voice became softer, conspiratorial, "you missed out on the row he had with the Brigadier this morning at the hospital. He was very insistent that you come along with him to conduct the interview, wouldn't take no for an answer."

Blinking, Jo turned to him, but before she could reply to this startling news, the sounds of footfalls and angry voices echoed in the corridor outside. Mike smirked. "They're at it again," he said.

"I don't see how it could possibly be that difficult to find one girl!" the Doctor snapped, swinging the doors open. "One girl on foot, at that."

"Doctor," said the Brigadier, and though his voice was calm he was tapping his swagger stick against his leg in an irritated rhythm. "We have all available men searching for her. She can't have gone far."

The Doctor jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against a lab bench. "Look, Brigadier," he said, "she's seen rather a lot and she's probably scared half out of her wits. At least have your men be gentle when they find her, if that's not beyond their limited capacity. If we can keep her calm, maybe she can explain what happened." He glanced over to Jo and suddenly his sharp manner dissipated. "I would particularly like to know why she didn't seem to share DCI Snell's hallucination, why he just collapsed like that."

Jo straightened. "Right," she said. "That is odd-" But the Doctor glanced significantly at the Brigadier, and she caught his meaning; they'd discuss it later.

"Our men are searching," the Brigadier said, with a puzzled glance at the Doctor. "Despite some opposition from the police, of course - they seem to think Miss Hallborough had something to do with DCI Snell's suicide, and would rather handle the affair internally."

"Does it matter who finds her?" the Doctor snapped, and turned to Jo before the Brigadier could retort. "How're you feeling, Jo?"

"I'm sore all over, but my headache's gone, at least." The Doctor frowned, and she knew that wasn't what he'd meant. Quickly, she changed the subject. "Doctor, what was in that pill you gave me, anyway? It didn't look like aspirin."

"Oh, just a remedy I picked up from Arbellius XVI some time ago," he said. "I'm glad it's worked. Now, Brigadier-"

The phone rang, and all eyes turned to it.

"I'll get it," said Jo, and felt a chill of foreboding as she sat on the familiar stool. For a moment, when she lifted the receiver, she caught sight of her forgotten list of requisitions for the Doctor, with Multiparticular galvanometer underlined, and shivered, half-expecting to hear the cries and the flicker of flames on the line.

When Jo spoke into the receiver, her voice was hoarse. "Hello?" There was a click, and she frowned. "Hello?"

"Jo?" The voice quavered, broke off into a sob. "Is that you?"

She waved to catch the Doctor's attention. "Laura?" There was silence on the other end. "Laura, where are you?"

"I-I came home." Laura's voice was quiet, distracted, and - yes, there was something in the background, a sort of chattering, and was that the clinking of cutlery? "There were men outside, men with guns, and there were policemen all over the front garden."

"All right," said Jo. The Doctor was hovering at her elbow; on the other side of the room, the Brigadier and Mike were hanging on her every word. "It's all right. Where are you now, Laura?"

"Oh," said Laura, and gave a nervous little laugh. "I don't actually know. I'm in a bit of a daze, I think."

Jo glanced at the Doctor, and wrote the word restaurant on the notepad. He nodded. "Well," Jo said, "can you see anything identifiable around you? Where are you calling from?"

"It's a phone booth in a restaurant," Laura said. "Hang on, I'll see if I can find a sign."

"What's happening?" the Doctor whispered.

"She's not sure which restaurant," Jo said, and paused. "She doesn't sound too good, Doctor."

"It's been quite a shock, Jo," the Doctor said. Jo nodded, taking a deep breath.

The phone clicked again. "Jo?"

She turned back to the receiver. "I'm here, Laura."

"It's called 'Turn the Other Chic', if you can believe that." Laura laughed again, but it was high and unnatural. Jo scribbled the name on the notepad and handed it to the Doctor.

"Laura, if you stay there we'll come and get you. Just stay there and order yourself a cup of tea, all right?"

Laura sniffled. "I haven't any money with me."

Jo smiled, tried to make her voice as reassuring as possible. "That's fine, Laura, I'll pay for it when we arrive. All right?"

Laura hesitated. "All right," she said, and the line went dead.

The Brigadier came up beside the Doctor, and the tapping of his swagger stick had become still faster. "Well?"

"Well," said the Doctor, "I think Jo and I should head out now, to this-" He paused. "-to this 'Turn the Other Chic,' before Miss Hallborough runs off again. She'll need to see some familiar faces."

"I know the place," offered Yates. "Not too far from her house - near the post office, I think."

"Yates, radio the men and have them keep an eye on it," the Brigadier said, and added, before the Doctor could protest: "But tell them not to go in. We don't want to scare her off any further."

"All right," said the Doctor. "Coming, Jo?"

"Yes, Doctor," she said, and hung up the phone.

Mike already had her jacket, and handed it to her with a smile. "What did I tell you, then?" he whispered, and she couldn't hide a grin. "Of course he wants you around."

"If you could radio them sometime in the near future, Yates," the Brigadier added.

"Sir," said Yates, composing himself, and ducked out of the room.

"I'll follow you two up," the Brigadier said, pausing in the doorway.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Brigadier, that's not-"

"It's quite necessary, Doctor, as every time I let you and Miss Grant out of my sight, something utterly inexplicable happens!" The Brigadier straightened. "I'll bring a Jeep and follow right behind you."

"Oh, I hardly think one girl - one girl who probably just witnessed her lover's suicide - will pose such a threat that we need backup, Brigadier," the Doctor snapped.

The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression, Doctor, that you still aren't sure what's been causing all these incidents - and Miss Hallborough seems to have been caught up in the middle of all this. If anything should happen, you'll need us to protect her while you dash around doing heaven-knows-what." He leaned forward, tapped his swagger stick on the lab bench. "I'll be following in the Jeep. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sir," said Jo, nudging the Doctor with her elbow, and he sighed and nodded, following the Brigadier out the door with his typical ill-grace. Jo donned her jacket and jogged after him.

It was a chilly evening once the sun went down, and when they were on the road Jo found herself remembering back to that morning - could it really have only been that long? - and her drive with the Doctor to Laura's house, the way the whole city seemed to have been waking up slowly. Now it was alive with cars and lorries and people strolling nonchalantly through stopped traffic, on their way to shows or the cinema or-

-or restaurants.

"You didn't answer my question, Jo," said the Doctor, and she jumped, startled.

"Sorry," she said. "I was thinking."

"An admirable pastime," the Doctor said, casting a meaningful glare up at the car in front of them, which was proceeding at a pace that would make a snail impatient. "Back at the lab, Jo. You've been awfully quiet; I asked how you were feeling."

She hunched down in her jacket, wincing at the chilly wind that pulled at her hair and tangled it. He looked a bit embarrassed at repeating his question, and she wondered why on earth he was asking in the first place. "I told you, Doctor. My head feels loads better."

He sighed irritably, and the moment was lost. "Never mind," he said, and swerved into a side-street.

When they pulled up in front of 'Turn the Other Chic', the Brigadier's men were conspicuous in their absence. "Well," said the Doctor, grudgingly, "at least they've managed to keep out of sight."

Jo was looking behind them. "I expect you've managed to lose the Brigadier with those last few twists and turns, Doctor."

The Doctor grinned and held the door open for her. "Oh, he'll turn up again soon enough. Come on, Jo."

The restaurant itself, to Jo's surprise, was half-empty; despite the name, it looked rather as though somebody had started to renovate it, but had run out of money partway through and opened for business instead. A few young couples were seated in booths, having intent conversations or feeding coins into the wallboxes.

Laura was sitting in a booth at the back, facing the door. When Jo waved, she glanced up: her mascara had run down her cheeks, following tear-tracks.

Jo sank into the bench across from her. "Hi, Laura," she said.

"You're not limping," Laura noted.

"Sorry?"

"Back at my house," said Laura, and nodded to the Doctor. "He said you'd sprained your ankle."

Jo grinned nervously. "Um, yes. It's much better now, though-"

"Come on, Jo, shift," said the Doctor.

As she moved over to make room for him, Jo seized the opportunity to change the subject. "We've been terribly worried about you, Laura. After what happened-"

"What did happen?" Laura said, rubbing her eyes and smudging her make-up still further. "I've been trying and trying to remember-"

"Don't," said the Doctor, leaning back against the booth. "It'll come back to you bit by bit, and it's better that way."

"Oh," said Laura, very quietly.

A waitress came over, and to her credit she scarcely looked askance at the odd trio. "Coffee sir, miss?"

"We're fine, thank you," the Doctor said, and Jo sighed; it had been such a cold drive that she wished she'd brought her tea along. "We've just come to pick up a friend."

The waitress shrugged and walked off. "Let me know if you change your mind, dearies."

Laura was staring intently at the patterns on the table. "I think I'm afraid," she said, and her voice was soft. Jo reached out and took the girl's hands; they were like ice, and she felt as though if she gripped them too hard they would shatter.

"Listen," said Jo. "We just want to talk to you, really we do, and we'll get to the bottom of this."

But Laura just pulled her hands free and continued to look down at the table, tracing the zigzags and whorls with one finger. "But I am frightened, I really am."

The Doctor glanced at Jo, who shook her head, and he leaned forward, steepling his hands. "What are you frightened of?"

Laura cocked her head to one side, stared at the table from this new angle for a moment, then shrugged. "I can't remember, really. But I don't suppose it matters much."

"Of course it does!" said Jo, and Laura looked so genuinely baffled that she felt a chill. "Well, I mean, you don't want to go through the rest of your life being afraid, do you?"

And Laura smiled, faint and frightening. "It beats being weak, doesn't it?"

The Doctor and Jo exchanged glances. "Come on, Laura," said Jo gently. "We'll take you home. Or-or back to UNIT HQ with us. We'll get you somewhere safe, all right?"

Laura didn't seem to be listening; she was swaying in time with the music playing in the booth behind them. Jo glanced at the Doctor. "She's in shock," he said. "We'll want to take her to hospital, let them make sure she's all right, when the Brigadier catches up with us."

Jo grinned. "If he catches up with us, you mean."

"How can you bear it?" Laura said suddenly; Jo felt her smile fade at the girl's dull voice.

"How can we bear what?"

Laura's face creased in a grimace, and then tears were trickling down her cheeks again. "Not being afraid."

The Doctor cleared his throat, and there was a wariness in his voice when he spoke. "I'm rather fond of it, myself," he said. "Awfully underrated thing, a lack of fear."

"That's right," said Jo. "Laura, I know it must be hard to see beyond-"

"No, no." Laura drew back, folded her hands on her lap as though frightened that Jo would reach out for them again. "You don't understand."

Nudging Jo's shoulder, the Doctor nodded to the window; she glanced out to see a Jeep pull up, and the Brigadier stepped out, speaking into a walkie-talkie. "We're going to take you to get some help, all right?"

"You want to take the fear away," said Laura, glancing up at Jo from beneath her eyelashes.

Jo had the strangest feeling she was being judged, scrutinised by this poor, broken woman, and felt the hair raise at the nape of her neck. "Laura," she said, "of course we want to help you."

"Without fear we are nothing," Laura intoned, her eyes distant and staring. Jo wondered if she was seeing what had happened at the house, and for a moment Jo could see it again as though it were right before her eyes; the DCI's body in the garden, the sound of the shot, the smell of gunpowder and blood-

The Doctor rested a hand on her shoulder, and it was enough to snap her out of the vision. He shook his head, nodded to Laura. Jo blinked, was about to ask him what he was trying to say, but he shook his head again and she was silent.

"That's ridiculous," the Doctor said to Laura, and Jo couldn't resist shooting him a glare for his harsh tone. "Well, it is. Patently ridiculous. Without fear we're lots of things." He leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms. "Happy, for one."

Laura was staring at the Doctor now, intent and rapt and looking for once as though she were all there, right there with them in the restaurant instead of at her house, in the garden, or even in the warehouse-

-and Jo could feel the fire all around, growing closer and stronger but never touching, never coming near enough to burn-

Again, the Doctor's light touch on her shoulder pulled her back to the restaurant, and she stared at him. "What's happening?" she whispered. He ignored her.

"Without fear we are nothing," said Laura again, and her voice was becoming louder, but it wasn't hysterical: her words rang with conviction. "If we don't learn from our fear, if we don't learn to face it, we are nothing." Jo heard the people in the booth behind them suddenly go silent, and she knew they must be attracting attention.

"Laura," she said, "maybe we should just-"

Laura turned-

-and Jo was drowning, burning, screaming-

This time the Doctor's hand found hers under the table, held on tight, and when Jo blinked, the restaurant came back into focus. She shivered, trying to still her trembling; the Doctor's eyes were narrowed, and he was staring at Laura so intently that Jo knew there must be something going on, there was such energy in the air between them.

"I'm doing you a favour," Laura said, and placed something on the table.

It took Jo a moment to recognise it for what it was; the Doctor was slightly quicker and grabbed for it, but Laura scooped it up before he could reach it, stared down at it.

A revolver.

This time Jo saw it more clearly, only it was a rifle instead of a handgun, and it was Marty holding it instead of Laura, and he was looking into the distance when he pulled the trigger, he was looking away instead of at the death staring him in the face, so he wouldn't know it when it came-

"Stop it," said the Doctor, and again the restaurant become more real than the garden, and Jo felt the plastic booth behind her back instead of the wind. Her head was spinning, but the Doctor's hand was cool in hers, reassuring.

Laura was staring at the gun, just staring at it. "You're weak, Doctor," she said. "You could be so much stronger."

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know what you're trying to say, Laura, but it's apparent that you've stumbled across something you don't quite know how to control."

"It's fear," said Laura, simply, and suddenly the Doctor's hand spasmed in Jo's grasp.

"Doctor," she gasped; he was staring off into the distance -staring off as Marty had done-

Jo rounded on Laura, who was watching the Doctor with the same dispassionate intensity, turning the revolver over and over in her hands. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything," said Laura.

Jo squeezed the Doctor's hand, hard, and he blinked down at her, shuddering; there was sweat beading on his forehead. "Doctor-"

"I'm all right, Jo," he said. "Thank you."

"You're just running," said Laura, tapping the butt of the revolver against the table. "Just running from the fear instead of facing it. Why are you doing it?"

The Doctor leaned forward. "Marty, Laura. Remember Marty. He killed himself because he was so afraid for you."

The rhythmic tapping stopped, but only for a moment. "That's not true," she said. "He died because he was so tired of running. Are you tired of running, Doctor?"

And she raised the gun, pointed it at the Doctor, and Jo felt herself freeze, felt the sheer terror of that moment wash over her like the impossible torrents of water, down the staircase, under and over her-

Behind them, the door swung open and the Brigadier stepped in.

Jo spun round in her seat to shout a warning, but before she could shout, Laura shifted her aim and fired; Jo flinched at the proximity of the shot, saw the Brigadier dive for cover as the window beside him shattered, and suddenly everyone in the place was screaming.

"Get down!" the Doctor shouted at the fleeing customers, but Laura just stared at him, lowered the gun so it pointed down to the tabletop. Jo wanted to grab the Doctor by the arm, pull him to safety, but the booth was so small, so enclosed, and Laura was still looking at him. She tightened her grip on his hand, just in case.

"You're not afraid," Laura said, in a voice that was cold and clear over the shouts in the background. She pointed the gun at the Doctor again; he stared at it unblinkingly. "I could destroy you right here."

"Don't," said Jo, before she could stop herself, and Laura frowned at her.

"You don't fear death, Time Lord," she said to the Doctor, and Jo frowned - he'd gone pale at that, though the words were utterly meaningless-

"Well," he said, with a terrible sort of forced levity that turned Jo's stomach. "If I were to constantly fear death, I wouldn't have much time to think about living, would I?"

"No," said Laura. "You do fear death; any rational being does." She held the gun right up to his head. "But you've faced down your own death before. You've stopped running."

"That's right," said the Doctor, and Jo was beginning to feel rather dizzy, as though she'd stepped in partway through the conversation and was only catching snatches of the truth here and there.

"I respect that, Time Lord," Laura said. "But you must have fear. You cannot live without it. You cannot die without it."

She shifted, just slightly, but now the gun was trained on Jo. "Now," Laura said, "you are afraid."

"She's got nothing to do with this," the Doctor snapped. "Don't-"

Laura stared at Jo; her eyes were hypnotic, deafening in their intent, and then she had the muzzle of the gun pressed right up against Jo's chest. "This is fear, Time Lord," she said.

Jo caught a glimpse of the Doctor's face, pale, shocked, the eyes terribly clear.

"This is fear," said Laura again, and fired.

Comments

[rosa-acicularis.livejournal.com]

You build the suspense so beautifully throughout this simply brilliant scene in the restaurant - Laura is terrifying and Jo fantastic and this:

She shifted, just slightly, but now the gun was trained on Jo. "Now," Laura said, "you are afraid."

Blows my mind.

[eponymous-rose.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed the restaurant scene - I had such a hard time figuring out where to set this bit, and it was a throwaway comment of my roommate's that did it.

Glad you're enjoying - stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion!

[rapunzelita.livejournal.com]

Oh, this ending is... this ending is... It's so classy! It made me gasp in front of my computer - the kind of gasp that means "I wish I had written that!"

I love the way you manage to get everyone perfectly in character. And I can't wait to read the last chapter!

[eponymous-rose.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! :D I'm glad you enjoyed that ending - it took a few rewrites to get it going properly.

[eers.livejournal.com]

*gasps and continues to next chapter*

[eponymous-rose.livejournal.com]

Cliffhangers are so much less evil when you've got the next chapter waiting, aren't they? Spoils all my fun. ;)

Thanks for commenting!