Prayers to Broken Stone ((The Meddler VI/Allison Castiel))

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

“It's too late to save the world, Castiel," Danny said, voice flat and grim. "It's over. All you can do now is to keep your head down and survive the best way you can.”

"No," Rob observed, following him down the stairs. "It's never too late. Les pierres du chantier ne sont en vrac qu’en apparence, s’il est, perdu dans le chantier, un homme, serait-il seul, qui pense cathédrale, after all."

Still, as they reached the base of the stairs - no, of the escalator - it was easy enough to see why Danny thought that. Easy enough to smell why as well, come to that. The odor was so pervasive and so layered that it went beyond mere stink into a nearly physical presence. Cooking smoke mingled with body odor and human waste, leavened by the closeness of human bodies and a stifling lack of ventilation. What the lighting was dim, a mixture of pale yellow electrics and flickering blue oil lamps and red coals and red-orange flames.

“Home, sweet home,” she murmured, with a bleak little shrug in Rob's direction. “C'mon. Jem's quarters are this way.”

And she trudged away in the direction Captain Langley and Danny had taken, leading Robin Goodfellow through the flotsam and jetsam that was all that was left of humanity.

"This is..." He gestured around, groping for a word. "Madness. A breeding sump for cholera and dysentary and typhoid and worse." He chewed his lip and wished for a cigarette. Or a bit of gum. Anything to keep his mouth from working, from heading where he could feel it going.

Meddler whispered a voice in the back of his mind, and his palms began to itch with the desire to interfere.

"I mean... hell, just start with getting more light in here," he continued, waving back towards the escalators. "There's mirrors, I'm sure. Or at least big pieces of sheet metal. Polish them up and reflect the sunlight in here." He turned and looked back, pupils becoming a deeper black as his gaze pierced the darkness. "It's how the Egyptians did it, after all."

He looked around. "And how do you lot get water down here? Waterworks are probably shut down, but you could rig cisterns. Set up rain traps and ferry it over from the Thames, filter it through layers of gravel and sand." He slapped what remained of his pockets, searching for something to write with. "Got a pen?" he finally asked. "I could do up a schematic in a few minutes, really."

[Allison Castiel]

"This is..." He gestured around, groping for a word. "Madness. A breeding sump for cholera and dysentary and typhoid and worse."

Allie turned to look at him, her brown eyes haunted and dark with memory. “Disease was an enormous problem, in the beginning. Thousands died and their bodies were burned, in huge bonfires on the street. It's better now, believe it or not. Jem introduced a lot of sanitation rules. We boil the water and the privies are emptied regularly. The sick are cared for separately, so any contagion doesn't spread.” She made a small, helpless gesture with her hand. “We do the best we can with what we have.”

The look of abhorrence, bordering on nausea, that crossed his face hadn't escaped her. She couldn't blame him. For anyone who wasn't used to it, the stench down here had to be overwhelming.

"I mean... hell, just start with getting more light in here," he continued, waving back towards the escalators. "There's mirrors, I'm sure. Or at least big pieces of sheet metal. Polish them up and reflect the sunlight in here... It's how the Egyptians did it, after all."

He didn't know, she realised in astonishment. He really didn't know. What had happened to him? Had he hit his head? Been attacked, his memories scrambled? Was that why he seemed to have no idea of the fundamental cornerstones of the new world? Or was there a different reason altogether? Perhaps... perhaps he didn't know because he came from somewhere else. Her pulse quickened in sudden hope. She hadn't forgotten the strange lightning she and Danny had followed across London. Nor had she forgotten the same strange flickers reflected in his eyes. This might not be the Doctor... but he was something out of the ordinary, she could feel it in her bones.

“Direct exposure to the sunlight can be dangerous,” she explained. “Even indirect exposure, in some cases. During the invasion, the wasp-monsters destroyed the Amazon rainforest. The levels of oxygen molecules in the air were significantly reduced, which in turn weakened the Earth's ozone layer. The resulting onslaught of ultraviolet rays caused untold physical damage. Blindness, skin cancer, premature aging. That's one of the main reasons we live underground now. We only come out on to the surface at dawn and just before dusk, to avoid the worst of the sun.”

She knew she probably sounded like some sort of text book, but she didn't know any other way to deliver the bald facts to him.

He looked around. "And how do you lot get water down here? Waterworks are probably shut down, but you could rig cisterns. Set up rain traps and ferry it over from the Thames, filter it through layers of gravel and sand." He slapped what remained of his pockets, searching for something to write with. "Got a pen?" he finally asked. "I could do up a schematic in a few minutes, really."

She sighed. “Rob, there is no water. It hasn't rained in over a year. The Thames dried up a long time ago. We have a portable solar-powered desalination unit in one of the upper chambers. It's guarded day and night. The water is trucked from the beaches at Southend-on-Sea in a small tanker, three or four times a year. The journey's too dangerous to go more often. There's worse things than the Los Niños out there. So, under Jem's rules, each person is given a daily water ration, allocated according to need. The children and the sick and the elderly are given the largest portions. The young and healthy sometimes go thirsty.”

The hollow tone of her voice revealed that Allie was no stranger to thirst. Before the Apocalypse, water was something she'd always taken for granted, something that came out every time she turned on a tap. Now it was a precious commodity, something the survivors were more than prepared to fight or die for.

As they talked, they had moved further into the tunnels, walking along the narrow path which bordered the old railway tracks, leaving the noise and the stench of the communal living space behind, heading for what had once been the subterranean network of maintenance chambers - and what was now both Jem's quarters and command centre.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Rob mulled over the news, rubbing his forehead as he did. "Low oxygen..." He drew a deep breath, tasting the air, and nodded. "Yeah. Hmmm..."

Suddenly, he grabbed Allison's hand and peered at it, examining it closely as his thumb pressed into her wrist. His skin was oddly cool on her hand, and he nodded. "No signs of cyanosis, so the oxygen content can't be dangerously low. Tachycardia, though, unless I miss my guess - that stands to reason. Any tingling or numbness in the extremities? Dizziness or balance issues? Are they common in the..."

"What," Danny interrupted, "are you talking about?"

"Hypoxia," Rob answered, not questioning how he knew that. "I'm trying to gauge what the oxygen content of the atmosphere is like now. And degraded ozone or not, you lot need sunlight down here."

Danny was staring at him now, stunned. "What? Why?"

"Hypovitaminosis D, old son," Rob answered, releasing Allison's hand and striding along the hallway. "Leads to rickets and osteoporosis and depression and a whole host of other problems. Come on, you lot were going to introduce me to your boss, right? There's things that need doing."

"Who are you?" Danny demanded, scurrying to catch up. "A doctor?"

The question brought Rob up short. "No..." he said slowly, trying to understand the odd feeling of indignant refusal that washed through him. "I'm not the Doctor. I'm..."

I'm what? he wondered

Meddler, his fragmented memories provided, a word that made no sense.

"I'm no Doctor," he murmured, absently rubbing his hands as if trying to clean them. "Even when I tried to be. Never had it in me." He shook the feeling off. "C'mon, shift it! We've got work to do, and I need information! The time is out of joint - o cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!"

Moving with sudden purpose, he took off down the hall once more. Danny watched him, then glanced at Allison. "He's a nutter, isn't he? You had me risk us all for a nutter. Tell me he's worth it, Allsion. Please?"

[Allison Castiel]

Rob's hand was grimy, just like the rest of him, but his touch was pleasant. His skin was cool, reminding her poignantly of air-conditioned rooms and – for some reason - long, chilled glasses of iced tea.

Danny's interruption prevented her from answering the stranger's barrage of questions. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised he was right. Human beings had never been meant to live under the ground like moles. She had seen the symptoms he had listed many times, especially among the elderly, who rarely went above ground. Up until now, she'd always put it down to malnutrition.

He released her hand and hurried ahead, apparently keen to outline some of his ideas to Jem, still arguing back and forth with Danny. Allison brought up the rear, listening to them. She couldn't help being a little bit apprehensive about the forthcoming meeting. Jem, while approachable enough in some ways, wasn't accustomed to being questioned. She just hoped Rob didn't bite off more than he could chew.

"Who are you?" Danny demanded, scurrying to catch up. "A doctor?"

The question brought Rob up short. "No..." he said slowly, trying to understand the odd feeling of indignant refusal that washed through him. "I'm not the Doctor. I'm... I'm no Doctor... Even when I tried to be. Never had it in me." He shook the feeling off. "C'mon, shift it! We've got work to do, and I need information! The time is out of joint - o cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!"

I'm not the Doctor, he had said, Allie realised, suddenly arrested. The Doctor. It was an odd turn of phrase, as if there was only one. And of course, as far as Allison was concerned, there was only one that mattered, and that was her Travellin' Man. It could be a coincidence, perhaps. But Rob seemed surrounded in peculiar happenstance. A catalyst, altering probability with every step he took, just like Puck in the old stories.

There was a stentorian bellow from further along the corridor. Captain Langley had reached the reinforced iron door that led to Jem's quarters and had suddenly realised they weren't behind him.

Moving with sudden purpose, [Rob] took off down the hall once more. Danny watched him, then glanced at Allison. "He's a nutter, isn't he? You had me risk us all for a nutter. Tell me he's worth it, Allison. Please?"

She turned to look at him, her brown gaze troubled. Danny very rarely called her by her given name. The fact that he had done so now was a clear indication of how rattled he was. “I don't know what he is, Dan. But sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and hope that everything will turn out all right in the end.”

---

They gathered at the end of the passageway. Captain Langley glared at them all, unimpressed with their tardiness, then rapped smartly on the door.

“Come,” a voice commanded from within.

The Captain pushed the door open and shepherded them all inside, as if he was worried that Rob might try to make a break for it. Which was just plain silly, Allie thought, since Rob was plainly more eager to enter the room than any of them.

A tall, slender figure dressed in a plain T-shirt and mottled black combat fatigues turned away from studying the maps pinned to the back wall and surveyed them with impassive blue eyes.

No-one knew who Jemima Sholto was, or what she had been before the Apocalypse struck. Some said she had been in military intelligence. Others claimed that she had run a successful profiteering business of some sort. Still others believed that she had fought alongside the Undying Man as one of his lieutenants during the initial invasion. The only thing any of them knew for sure was that one day, long after all the battles had been lost, she had turned up here and had taken over the lawless Chiswick Station settlement with an iron hand, forging order out of chaos.

Under Jem's rule, a makeshift society had evolved out of the ruins left behind by the wasp-monsters. Life became organised once more. People had jobs to do, a purpose to fulfil. Security patrols were introduced, to defend their home from the nomadic Raiders and the hordes of Los Niños. Regular scavenging details were set up to find and bring in the things they needed. The old and the sick were cared for; supplies of food and water were distributed fairly, instead of being fought over like animals; living quarters became – if not ideal – then more palatable than they had been. Anyone who challenged her or caused trouble in the settlement had mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again. Some called her tyrant, some called her saviour, but none of them to her face. To most people, she was just Jem, and she was a law unto herself.

“Captain Langley,” she said now, her voice low and calm. “Is there a problem?”

“Beckett and Castiel encountered a stranger during a scavenging run in Sector Twelve, ma'am,” Langley answered. Respect was oozing out of his very pores, his back so straight that it looked as though he'd had an iron bar shoved up his spine. “They brought him back to the settlement with them. He claims his name is Rob Goodfellow. I thought it best to bring him to you.”

“Indeed.”

Casually, she tossed a pen on to her paper-laden desk and walked towards Rob, looking him up and down. Jem was a beautiful woman, graceful in her movements and oddly feminine, despite her closely-shaven Marine-style haircut. On her right wrist, she wore a battered leather wrist-strap, which looked a bit like a large, cumbersome watch, but wasn't. There were plenty of stories whispered around the settlement about that too - about what it was and where it had come from.  It was said she never took it off, and that it had once belonged to the Undying Man himself, though no-one knew how Jem had come to own it, or whether that meant that she knew what had happened to him. None of the survivors had ever dared to ask and she never said.

“My name is Jem Sholto. I'm in charge of this settlement.” She was so tall that she stood eye-to-eye with Rob, her gaze cool and challenging. “So, tell me... what's your story?”

“He doesn't know!” Allie broke in nervously, twisting her hands together in front of her. “He's got some kind of amnesia. The Los Niños were chasing him, so we...”

Without even glancing at the small blonde girl, her eyes still locked with Rob's, Jem put up an imperious hand, cutting Allie off in mid-sentence. “Your desire to defend your new protégé is very admirable, Castiel. But he looks to me like the kind of man who would prefer to speak for himself. Isn't that right... Mr Goodfellow?”

Reluctantly, Allie subsided into silence. There was something in Jem's expression when she looked at Rob that made the girl uneasy. It was just a brief flicker, a fleeting, avaricious gleam, gone so quickly that it was hard to decipher.

But if Allie hadn't known better, she would have said it was recognition.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Without even glancing at the small blonde girl, her eyes still locked with Rob's, Jem put up an imperious hand, cutting Allie off in mid-sentence. “Your desire to defend your new protégé is very admirable, Castiel. But he looks to me like the kind of man who would prefer to speak for himself. Isn't that right... Mr Goodfellow?”

Without missing a beat Rob stepped forward and clasped her lifted hand with both of his, shaking it vigorously. "Right you are, Jem, right you are. Name's Rob Goodfellow - least, that's the only name I remember. And you'd be the leader of this rag-tag band of survivors?"

He didn't wait for an answer, choosing instead to pace around the room without regard for the looks he was getting. "And you've done right well for yourself, from what I can see. Can probably do better, but that's not your fault - you're no Aesculapean or Breeding Engineer or the like, and doing something all right right now is better than doing the perfect thing never. Oh, and you're dealing with an ecological collapse that rivals the Precambrian introduction of oxygen to the atmosphere. So, full marks."

As he paced, he began fiddling with something in his hands. Something large and cumbersome, like a watch. "There's more you could do, of course. Got a few ideas, I have, but they're all band-aids on an amputation. No, something dramatic needs doing. So tell me more about these 'wasp-things', would you? Where and when they came from."

He held up Jem's wrist-strap, the bulky mechanism attached to it unfolded like origami. Once it resembled a watch, but now it resembled a glittering metal and plastic rose, crusted with circuits and glittering lights. "And this is bangers, by the way. Flux capacitor's shot, but I'm guessing you know that. You seem like the kind that would have done something about all this long ago, if this thing worked."

Fingers working quickly, he folded it back together and handed it back. "But I'm rambling, ain't I? Yeah, Rob Goodfellow. And me story's that I'm an amnesiac. But I can tell yeh all about the last two hours of me life, if you want. Whaddya wanna know?"

[Allison Castiel]

Shock rippled through the room, a harsh whisper of indrawn breath. Everyone seemed frozen in disbelief, unsure what to do. Allie's jaw had dropped. How had Rob even done that? He'd managed to take the wrist-strap right off Jem's arm, without her even realising. Allie had seen expert sleight-of-hand before, but never anything on that level. And what was that thing, anyway? Some sort of high-tech device, clearly. Rob seemed to recognise and understand it, but it was beyond Allie. She glanced sideways at Danny, but he seemed just as befuddled as she was.

Captain Langley, however, was less impressed. Raising his weapon, he aimed it right between Rob's eyes.

“Put your hands on your head,” he barked. “NOW! Or I'll shoot you where you stand!”

“It's all right, Captain.” Jem gave a thin smile and took the wrist-strap back from the stranger. Her habitual composure made it difficult to tell whether she was angry or amused. Perhaps, Allie thought, it was a little of both. Rob seemed to have that effect on people. “At ease. There's no harm done.”

Grudgingly, Langley lowered his gun, obedient to her command, but not liking it.

Jem paused a moment to strap the device securely back on to her wrist. Then she returned her attention to Rob.

“I'm sure you've heard the saying, Rome wasn't built in a day, Mr Goodfellow,” she replied serenely. “And as for the vortex manipulator, you are quite correct, of course. It hasn't functioned correctly for some time. However, one never knows when one might come across a flux capacitor, does one?”

Turning, she moved back behind her desk and sat down. “Perhaps a little quid pro quo is in order, hmmm? Why don't you have a seat-” With a gesture, she indicated the chairs facing her desk. “-and tell me all about this amnesia of yours. In return, I'll tell you everything I know about the Glyptapanteles wasp-monsters. In fact, I'll even have Allison show you one, shall I? I can't say fairer than that.”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Glyptapanteles?" Rob echoed, taking the proffered seat as memories raced like fire through his brain. "Nasty buggers, them. Endoparasites. Lay their eggs on caterpillars, they do, and use 'em as horses and food until the larvae're ready to pupate." He glanced around the room, locking eyes with Allison. "Them the 'worse things' you were mentioning? Parasitized humans, driven like a warmech by a mutant wasp larva an' protectin' them until the larvae eat the poor berk alive?"

He turned back to look at Jem, and smiled a crooked smile. In that moment, despite his rags, he managed to look as if he were the one interviewing her. "But my amnesia? Buggered if I know? I remember..." He fell silent, concentrating, and for an instant alien fire seemed to flicker in his pupils. "I remember falling, mostly. Like... like a dream of falling. The kind where you know you have to wake up before you hit, but you can't? That kind of dream. Falling, and... mist, maybe. Or... a whirlpool? Clouds, like, all gold and purple and such. And then I was sitting on Lord Nelson's column, with naught but a few worldly possessions."

He fished them out. A harmonica, a dense black box about the size of a pack of cigarettes, a sheath knife, and an ammunition clip from an L85 assault rifle. "Ooops... sorry," he said, pushing the last two things across the table, voice utterly lacking in any contrition. Took those off that thick shop... Zanniga." His crooked grin flickered again. "Didn't quite seem like the sort you should trust with weapons, you know?"

Rob's finger drifted across the box, and an image appeared in the air, showing a man and a woman in 70s clothes at a disco. For a long moment he stared at the image, melancholy settling across his mind like a cloak. Then he shrugged, and turned it off. "No idea who those two are, really. But... I feel like I should." Glancing up, he caught Jem's eye. "Just like I've no idea how I knew what that thing on your wrist was, you know? I couldn't have told you it was a 'vortex manipulator' until you said the words, but I recognized it. But I don't recognize this."

At the word this, he made a broad gesture. "All of this, not this room. This... this world. It ain't right, you know? I don't know how I know, but... it ain't right."

[Allison Castiel]

He glanced around the room, locking eyes with Allison. "Them the 'worse things' you were mentioning? Parasitized humans, driven like a warmech by a mutant wasp larva an' protectin' them until the larvae eat the poor berk alive?"

She nodded mutely, recalling how it had been, back at the very beginning of the Apocalypse. How people had just seemed to go mad. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, best friends... all of them turning on their loved ones out of the blue, their eyes empty of everything that had made them human, savagely killing anyone in their path with tooth and nail. How it had become necessary to put them down, just like rabid dogs, as soon as the symptoms manifested. Mercy killings, because there was no cure, and if they were allowed to live...

Allison's knees felt weak as she remembered the horrors she had seen. Blackened flesh bulging, swelling, writhing as the greedy larvae within ate their way out. Skin splitting, like the rind of an over-ripe melon; the body convulsing, twitching across the ground, even though there was no life left in it, except for the filthy white maggots crawling from every orifice. She'd lost her best friend Glenda that way, and it was a visceral memory she could never now unsee.

“We call them Creepers,” she said in a choked voice. “You know, like the ones in the computer game Minecraft? The ones that sneak up on you, and by the time you realise, you're more than likely already dead. There's not very many of them left, now that the wasp-monsters have been wiped out. Thanks to the GK-50, the larvae shrivel as soon as they emerge. But some of the eggs lie dormant for years. And then... when you're least expecting it... they hatch... and overnight the host will become a Creeper.”

She swayed a little, thinking of Glenda, and Danny put out a hand to steady her, for which she was grateful, since - unlike Rob - Jem hadn't invited them to sit.

He turned back to look at Jem, and smiled a crooked smile. In that moment, despite his rags, he managed to look as if he were the one interviewing her. "But my amnesia? Buggered if I know? I remember..." He fell silent, concentrating, and for an instant alien fire seemed to flicker in his pupils. "I remember falling, mostly. Like... like a dream of falling. The kind where you know you have to wake up before you hit, but you can't? That kind of dream. Falling, and... mist, maybe. Or... a whirlpool? Clouds, like, all gold and purple and such. And then I was sitting on Lord Nelson's column, with naught but a few worldly possessions."

"Castiel and I saw strange lightning on the horizon,” Danny added, his hand still gripping Allie's elbow. “Weird, it was, all purple and orange, like he said, and out of a clear sky. So we went to investigate. We found him” - he nodded at Rob - “sitting in Trafalgar Square at the base of the column. But that's not all. The statue's back. Nelson, as large as life, just as he was five years ago, before the Apocalypse happened.”

Jem's eyebrows rose at that, although she made no comment, and she studied Rob with even greater interest. He was busy sorting through the contents of his pockets, pulling them out and placing them on the desk.

A harmonica, a dense black box about the size of a pack of cigarettes, a sheath knife, and an ammunition clip from an L85 assault rifle. "Ooops... sorry," he said, pushing the last two things across the table, voice utterly lacking in any contrition. Took those off that thick shop... Zanniga." His crooked grin flickered again. "Didn't quite seem like the sort you should trust with weapons, you know?"

Standing beside Allison, Danny swore softly and literally facepalmed. “Zanniga's gonna go ballistic when he figures that out!” he muttered.

“Theft of property is a criminal offence,” Captain Langley spoke up, his expression stiff and more than a bit pompous. “Ma'am, according to your own laws, this man must be punished.”

Jem raised blue eyes to his face that were suddenly like icicles. “Thank you, Captain, your opinion is duly noted. However, I am dealing with this, and I don't require reminding of my own laws. You're a very busy man. I don't think we need to detain you from your duties any further.”

Langley's mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish. However, the cold dismissal in her words left no room for argument. “Yes, Ma'am.” Shooting Rob a resentful glare, he turned on his heel and marched for the door.

Transferring her attention towards Danny, Jem inclined her head. “Beckett, you may also go. I understand you're on early scavenging duty again tomorrow. You need food and rest. Castiel will stay here – I have need of a tour guide.”

Danny hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Leaning close to Allison, he whispered in her ear, “Stay away from Zanniga, hear?”

Then he followed Langley to the door, closely it quietly and firmly behind them. Left standing alone at the back of the room, Allie shifted uneasily, wishing he'd been allowed to stay. She felt much more exposed and vulnerable without his taciturn presence at her side.

Rob's finger drifted across the box, and an image appeared in the air, showing a man and a woman in 70s clothes at a disco. For a long moment he stared at the image, melancholy settling across his mind like a cloak. Then he shrugged, and turned it off. "No idea who those two are, really. But... I feel like I should." Glancing up, he caught Jem's eye. "Just like I've no idea how I knew what that thing on your wrist was, you know? I couldn't have told you it was a 'vortex manipulator' until you said the words, but I recognized it. But I don't recognize this."

At the word this, he made a broad gesture. "All of this, not this room. This... this world. It ain't right, you know? I don't know how I know, but... it ain't right.”

As he was speaking, Jem reached to the credenza behind her and produced a decanter of cool, clear water and two crystal glasses. Allie watched her fill them, her own mouth as dry as dust, every drop an unbearable temptation. She hadn't had anything to drink in hours and her tongue felt like a piece of leather. Jem, however, pushed one glass across to Rob and kept the other for herself, without acknowledging Allie at all.

“Tell me, Mr Goodfellow,” she said, raising the glass elegantly to her lips and eyeing him over the rim. “How many hearts do you have?”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

“Tell me, Mr Goodfellow,” she said, raising the glass elegantly to her lips and eyeing him over the rim. “How many hearts do you have?”

Rob picked up the glass, examining the water carefully. The liquid sloshed back and forth as his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Two," he finally said. "Feels like two. Same as everyone else, right?" Then he turned in his chair, holding the glass out to Allison. "Here you go, love. I ain't thirsty, an' you look like you could use it."

He returned his attention to Jem. "Don't see what me hearts have to do with anything, though - unless the glyptapanteles eat one of them, as part of takin' over the host. And then I suspect I'd say two anyway, just to keep the larvae safe. So I'm not helping me own case with that, am I? Still, you'd just have to dust me down with this GK-50 stuff, and the rest of you'd be safe anyway, so it shouldn't matter too much."

Leaning back, he shifted in his seat and the rags of what had once been an expensive (if ill-fitting) suit rustled around him. "Now... the deal was, as I recall... 'tell me all about this amnesia of yours. In return, I'll tell you everything I know about the Glyptapanteles wasp-monsters. In fact, I'll even have Allison show you one, shall I?'" His imitation of her voice was pitch-perfect. "So, tell me about the glyptapanteles, why don't you? And the GK-50, because I'm starting to think that we manufactured the Apocalypse in a short-sighted effort to kill a bunch of mutant murder wasps."

[Allison Castiel]

When Rob offered Allie the glass, she almost snatched it from him, so eager was she to ease the burning in her throat.

“Oh, thank you,” she murmured gratefully, doing her best to sip slowly at the cool liquid, wanting to make it last, instead of gulping it down in frantic haste. “Thank you so much.”

Jem's face tightened slightly in disapproval at Rob's action. “If you stay with us for long enough, Mr Goodfellow, you'll find that water is not something to be taken lightly,” she said in a frosty tone. “You'll also find that if I give a gift, I expect it to be appreciated.”

Embarrassed colour rushed to Allie's cheeks. It wasn't a good idea to get on the wrong side of Jem, and the girl realised she'd just got Rob into trouble. She wished now she'd had the presence of mind to refuse his generosity. But she'd been so painfully thirsty, she hadn't been able to resist.

Shooting him an apologetic look, she shrank into the background, trying to keep a low profile. With any luck, if she stayed quiet, Jem would forget about her. Being so small helped with that. It was one of the few times she found herself glad that she wasn't taller and more imposing. She wasn't quite sure what to do with the empty glass, so in the end, she just hid it behind her back like a child caught doing the wrong thing.

[Rob] returned his attention to Jem. "Don't see what me hearts have to do with anything, though - unless the glyptapanteles eat one of them, as part of takin' over the host. And then I suspect I'd say two anyway, just to keep the larvae safe. So I'm not helping me own case with that, am I? Still, you'd just have to dust me down with this GK-50 stuff, and the rest of you'd be safe anyway, so it shouldn't matter too much."

“You're right, of course, what possible significance could it have?” Jem responded with a charming smile, all trace of her previous fleeting displeasure now gone. The smile, however, entirely failed to reach the iron of her eyes. “Do forgive me, Mr Goodfellow. A foolish, whimsical question. It has no bearing on anything at all.”

Leaning back, he shifted in his seat and the rags of what had once been an expensive (if ill-fitting) suit rustled around him. "Now... the deal was, as I recall... 'tell me all about this amnesia of yours. In return, I'll tell you everything I know about the Glyptapanteles wasp-monsters. In fact, I'll even have Allison show you one, shall I?'" His imitation of her voice was pitch-perfect. "So, tell me about the glyptapanteles, why don't you? And the GK-50, because I'm starting to think that we manufactured the Apocalypse in a short-sighted effort to kill a bunch of mutant murder wasps."

"Your recall is admirable.  And a deal is a deal.” Jem set her own glass down on the table with a clack. “However, I have some urgent work to do. There's no rest for the wicked, as they say, and still less for the leader of this settlement.” Her voice was tinged with almost mocking amusement. “So I'm afraid I'll need to delegate Allison to fill you in on everything you wish to know.”

Her gaze flickered to the blonde girl at the back of the room. “Take our guest and show him our prize exhibit in the Turnham Green tunnel, please, Castiel. And answer any questions he might have, as fully and as completely as you can.”

Allison nodded, a bit uncertainly. She didn't like going up the Turnham Green tunnel. As far as she was concerned, it was the very definition of creepy. On the other hand, though, she had to be careful not to vex Jem any more than she already had, so refusal was hardly an option. “Yes, ma'am.”

Satisfied, Jem focused intently again on Rob, her fingernail tapping lightly on the side of the crystal glass. “We'll resume this discussion at 0900 hours tomorrow morning, Mr Goodfellow, once your briefing is complete. In the meantime, get some rest. Allison will furnish you with food and find you a place to sleep.”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Your recall is admirable. And a deal is a deal.” Jem set her own glass down on the table with a clack. “However, I have some urgent work to do. There's no rest for the wicked, as they say, and still less for the leader of this settlement.” Her voice was tinged with almost mocking amusement. “So I'm afraid I'll need to delegate Allison to fill you in on everything you wish to know.”

Her gaze flickered to the blonde girl at the back of the room. “Take our guest and show him our prize exhibit in the Turnham Green tunnel, please, Castiel. And answer any questions he might have, as fully and as completely as you can.”

"Fair enough," Rob said, rising. "And, just so we're clear, I recognize the value of gifts." I just happen to think that having me guide in tip-top shape's a good thing, particularly when wandering around mysterious tunnels in the pitch black, you know?"

Jem was probably listening - she seemed the type, after all. But her attention was apparently focused on Allison until the young gril gulped and stammered out an uncomfortable “Yes, ma'am.” From her tone of voice, Turnham Green tunnel was a bad place.

No matter. He didn't remember much, but he suspected he'd been in his own fair share of bad places before. Maybe a few other people's share as well.

Satisfied, Jem focused intently again on Rob, her fingernail tapping lightly on the side of the crystal glass. “We'll resume this discussion at 0900 hours tomorrow morning, Mr Goodfellow, once your briefing is complete. In the meantime, get some rest. Allison will furnish you with food and find you a place to sleep.”

"I can sleep wherever," Rob assured them, "so no need for anything fancy. But I figure I'll be needing some writing materials. I've got a powerful feeling I'll be making some notes." He sauntered past Allison, looking about as he did. "Let me see... we came in under Chiswick Park, so unless I miss my bearings Turnham Green is..." He licked his finger and held it up in the air. "This way!"

Turning right, he disappeared down the tunnel. Only his voice echoed back. "Shift it!"

[Allison Castiel]

Allie was used to having orders barked at her. Jem had impressed upon the entire settlement that discipline was the only way to survive in this harsh new world. And indeed, although her rule could often be called tyrannical, it was so much better than the anarchy that had existed before her arrival that few of the survivors complained.

So when Rob called to Allie to “Shift it!”, she found herself automatically obeying, ducking her head in farewell to Jem and hurrying after him with alacrity. She had to admit, it was a relief to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the office and Jem's piercing ice-blue stare, even if it meant going up the Turnham Green tunnel in the dark.

Rob was striding along ahead, as if he already knew exactly where he was going. Allie wasn't sure how he could figure out direction simply by licking his finger and holding it in the air – but his method was either valid or lucky, because he was actually going the right way.

“Wait up a moment!” she called back to him, ducking into an alcove not far from Jem's office, where she knew there was a store cupboard. She withdrew two crank-powered lanterns and ran after him again. “We'll need these. There's no other source of light in the old tunnels. We don't go there often. Look, you wind the handle, and it charges the battery.”

She handed one to him and then demonstrated with her own, whirring the crank as fast as she could. The lantern lit up in a pale, white glow, illuminating further the dirty cinder-block walls around them.

“These used to be maintenance passageways. If we keep heading this way, we'll eventually reach the main subway tunnels.”

Falling into step beside him, she tried to adjust her shorter stride to match his long legs.  If she couldn't even keep up with him, she wasn't going to be much use as a guide.

“Rob...” She paused, giving him a hesitant sideways look. “All that stuff about having two hearts... are you sure? I mean... you do know that humans have only one, right? In fact, I've only ever known one person with two. And he didn't come from the Earth at all. His name was the Doctor, and he was a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey.”

Allie had never told anyone except Danny about her encounter with Doctor. After all, it wasn't as if anyone would believe her. And Danny was much too close-mouthed to ever tell anyone else. Which meant that Jem couldn't possibly be aware that Allie knew anything about Time Lords or their unique biology. She wouldn't have expected Allie to understand the significance of her earlier question or to be able to explain it to Rob.

And that raised a worrying question in Allie's mind. If Jem knew that Rob might be a Time Lord... why was she trying to keep that knowledge from him?

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

“Wait up a moment!” Allison called, ducking into a storage closet and then returning with a couple of torches. “We'll need these. There's no other source of light in the old tunnels. We don't go there often. Look, you wind the handle, and it charges the battery.”

He took the torch and experimentally cranked the handle. It ground and whirred and clicked, and then cast a dim white glow over the walls. "Yeah, that'll be handy," he agreed, even as the light made him realize that he hadn't needed it to be able to see. Was that normal? He opened his mouth to ask, then thought better and closed it again. No need to risk giving things away.

They continued down the hall, the concrete floor cool and smooth beneath his one bare foot. He'd have to do something about that. “These used to be maintenance passageways," Allison pointed out. "If we keep heading this way, we'll eventually reach the main subway tunnels.”

"And is your horrible wasp monster in the main tunnel? Or do you keep it in one of the side tunnels?"

Allison seemed distracted, though. Instead of responding, she kept glancing at him like she wanted to say something. Finally, just as the furtive looks were starting to make him feel a little grumpy, she worked up the nerve. “Rob...”

"Yep?"

“All that stuff about having two hearts... are you sure?"

Strange question, that. "Uhm... yeah," he said, placing a hand on his chest and moving it from side to side. "Can feel them pounding away. Why?"

"I mean... you do know that humans have only one, right?"

What? "No..." he said, slowly. Then he stopped, cocking his head to one side as he concentrated. "No, actually now that you say that... I do know that. So, why didn't I know that a few minutes ago?"

"In fact, I've only ever known one person with two. And he didn't come from the Earth at all. His name was the Doctor, and he was a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey.”

Doctor.

"I..."

Time Lord.

"That is..."

Gallifrey.

He flinched at the last word, a nonsense word that he recognized. Time Lord. Gallifrey. These were words he knew. Knew, but didn't know why. "I..." He scratched at his scalp, eyes screwed tight as he concentrated. Time Lord. Gallifrey. He could feel the knowledge, buried deep in his mind, but it wouldn't come...

"Taaymdeynnt ywjeidnig ycaywboodleedig ngayodhaai zmaeidcdiwl geaotzoa?" he snarled, clenched fists pressing against his skull, and his eyes snaped open in shock at the alien, familiar sounding words as he stared wildly at Allison with eyes that were suddenly solid black orbs. "Time Lord?"

He shook his head, and the blackness drained away. "I... don't know. It all sounds familiar, Allison. But... I don't..." His voice trailed away, and he suddenly looked very lost. "Maybe... maybe I am this 'Doctor' of yours..."

Meddler.

The word drifted through his mind again, and he shook his head and forced a crooked grin. "Maybe not. Guess we'll find out, eventually."

[Allison Castiel]

“I... That is... I...”

There was something working itself loose in his brain, she could literally see it happening. Her words had sparked some sort of nerve, as if she'd touched him with a live wire. His hands were giving little jerks and then they clenched into fists, coming up to pummel his own head, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Alarmed, she reached out her hand to him. “Rob? Rob! Are you all right? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

His eyes snapped open again and she jumped back in fright. His usually pale blue eyes were suddenly as black as ink, like obsidian marbles, gaping wells of nothingness.

"Taaymdeynnt ywjeidnig ycaywboodleedig ngayodhaai zmaeidcdiwl geaotzoa?" he snarled, clenched fists pressing against his skull, and his eyes snapped open in shock at the alien, familiar sounding words as he stared wildly at Allison.... "Time Lord?"

A fierce, almost guttural sound, yet oddly musical, like silver in the air. Allie was sure that no human language on earth had ever produced words such as those. Her first instinct was to run away from him, as far and as fast as she could. But she'd never been a quitter. And the truth was, she'd met creatures much stranger and much more hostile than Robin Goodfellow, even before the Apocalypse began. Bravely, she stood her ground and answered without flinching.

“Yes. A Time Lord. That's what he said his people were called. But there weren't many left,” she told him. “There was a great War, he said... more vast and far-reaching than anything I could ever imagine, against a terrible foe. And most of the Time Lords were killed.”

In response, he shook his head, and the eerie pupil-less blackness faded, and he was Rob again. The tightness in her chest eased a little.

"I... don't know. It all sounds familiar, Allison. But... I don't..." His voice trailed away, and he suddenly looked very lost.

Compassion stirred inside her at the bewildered expression on his face. All at once, she was no longer afraid of him, at least for this moment. Instead, she felt deeply sorry for him. This new world was hard enough for those who had watched it come into being. But at least she still had memories of her life from before. Sometimes she thought that clinging to them was the only thing that kept her sane. Rob didn't even have that much. He had no idea who he was, or what he was doing here.

"Maybe... maybe I am this 'Doctor' of yours..."

“I... I did wonder that,” she ventured tremulously. “You see, I've been waiting for him. I've always believed that he'll come back one day. Before the Earth dies altogether. And that he'll somehow make it better again. Because he's the Doctor... that's what he does, he heals things.”

She stared at Rob's craggy features, trying unsuccessfully to spot some vestige of her vanished friend. “He said... the Time Lords could change their faces... to renew their bodies instead of dying. Do you think you really might be him... and you've just forgotten?”

He shook his head and forced a crooked grin. "Maybe not. Guess we'll find out, eventually."

"I hope we do.” Her voice was quiet but sincere. “For your sake, Rob, I really do.”

Then, getting a hold of herself, she manufactured her own wry smile. “I expect we'd better keep moving, if we want to get back by some time tonight. In answer to your earlier question... the creature's in the main tunnel, quite some distance along it. Towards the end of the war, after the GK-50 was released, the wasp-monsters were dropping like flies. They were desperate to reproduce, to replenish their numbers. And for that, they needed hosts. They did all they could to penetrate the underground settlements, to get at the humans hiding there. One of them found the Turnham Green tunnel and tried to force its way through. A lot of good people died that day, protecting our homes. But in the end, the humans managed to boost the current from the subway conductor rail and they attacked the creature and electrocuted it. The body's still there, in perfect condition, unlike the ones on the surface, which were destroyed by the weather.”

Shining the lantern ahead of her, she began to walk again. “Come on, it's this way. Once you've seen it, I think you'll understand a lot more about what we were up against and why we developed the GK-50.”

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Well," Rob observed, "that's not something you'd want to come up on all unexpected in the dark."



Giant wasp-monster didn't do the mutant wasp justice. A giant wasp was the size of a man's hand, or maybe the length of his arm. The mutant glyptapanteles, however, was impossibly large. Large as a horse. "Bloody jingle bell," he swore, walking around the corpse to examine it from different angles. "How does the bastard thing breathe? Could it fly?" He peered at the wings. "No bloody way it could fly, but I bet it did anyway. Just to get up the nose of entomologists."

There was a dull banging sound as he rapped his knuckles against the mutant's thorax, a sound of flesh and bone on metal. "Well, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled. "Have to be metal. Chitin'd snap under the weight."

Stepping back, he scratched the back of his head. This was good. This was really good. A nice juicy bit of what-the-fragery to distract him from the nagging doubts that Allison had brought up. A War, she'd said. And every time he thought about that, it awakened quick flashes of maybe-memory - quick images of flames and destruction and of a horrible beautiful silver matrix. And those maybe-memories were a pain in his heart.

No. Far better to focus on the mutant wasp.

Stooping, he picked up a stone and tried to scratch the mutant's carapace. Nothing. Not a mark. "Shouldn't have given back aggro-boy's knife," he muttered. "Be nice to see if this thing's harder'n steel." He glanced back at Allison. "I'm guessin' it is, though. If we was reduced to chemical warfare to kill them, then they'd have to be hard enough to shrug off most conventional weapons."

Crouching now, he looked at the underside of the bronze-colored monster. "Conductive, though. Pity you lot didn't know about the electricity thing sooner. Coulda set traps for them, that way. Still, desperate times and all." Stretching as he rose, he turned to look at Allison once more. 'You always believed your Doctor would come back one day, you said. And that he'd somehow make all this better again."

His crooked grin flashed as he leaned back against the metal monster, arms spread wide and resting on the cool bronze surface. "Tell me where these things came from." The crooked grin grew wider. "Cause I've got the dim beginnings of a plan."