Seeking the Sunrise ☽ Eleven x Reader

III - The Stone

'Premeditated? Who would want to kidnap a suffragette so much to do this?'

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor was pacing around the control panel. He said nothing, but kept opening his mouth to do so before shutting it again and shaking his head. Cyril had shut up the shop and escorted you back to the blue box, and you had insisted he came inside with you. He was sat on the steps, gently rocking forwards and backwards and muttering to himself. You kept firing questions into the room that might inspire some sort of answer, but neither of the men were actively listening to you.

'Miss Dorothy is quite heavily sought after.' Cyril says.

'What, by the time police? For good or bad things?'

'No, the TVA only really dabble with things that aren't supposed to happen. She's very intentional with her actions.' the Doctor explains.

'So who would want to take her?'

'That's not the question you should be asking. If we know where she is, we'll find who took her.' The Doctor slumped down on the step next to Cyril, throwing his head into his hands in despair. 'If only it were that easy to find that.'

You thought for a moment. It was as if all thoughts of reason were lost- no plan you had could possibly aid the situation in any way. Rolling the inkwell you had taken from the antiques shop around your hands, you noted the intricate detailing etched into the brass at the top. The body of the well was a yellow glass, and resembled a flower in its six sided, vaguely triangular shape. To pass the time and fill the silence that was currently echoing at an ironically high volume around the TARDIS, you began popping the lid of the inkwell on and off, exercising the aged hinge around the top of the pot. That was when you noticed it.

A small fragment of rock, and a few dots of dust gathered around it. You tipped the small stone out into the palm of your hand, and felt a small and quick sting, reminiscent of the petty shocks you would receive from tapping something metallic. You carefully place it back inside the inkwell, and carry it over to the Doctor. It may have been an unnecessary precaution to place the stone back into the inkwell as opposed to carrying it with your bare hands, but you didn't want to take any chances.

'Doctor?' you ask, and he looks up from his hands, a lack of inspiration visibly clouding over his eyes. 'You know when Amy got sent back to be with Rory?'

You chose your words carefully, trying to be as sensitive as you could. You knew Amy and Rory were still a sore subject for him. He doesn't directly reply, but you had his attention.

'Well, Amy knew she'd be with Rory because she was touched by the same Angel, so does that mean they hold some sort of time energy? You know, so that they know where to take you back to.'

'They do.' the Doctor replied. 'Certain Angels are specifically directed to take people back to a certain point.'

'Right. So if we were to have the Angel that sent Dorothy back, we could potentially find where she is?'

'Theoretically. But the statue disintegrated when she was sent back. The powder it left behind won't hold enough energy to find her.'

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were almost certain that this small piece of rock that you had discovered in the inkwell was a fragment of the Angel, but you didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if you were wrong.

'So Doctor,' you ask cleverly, hoping that the plan you had quickly formulated would play out as smoothly as you hoped. 'What does it feel like to be sent back by an Angel?'

'Why? What are you planning?' he asks with a look of genuine concern in his eyes. He was afraid of losing you- especially at the hands of an Angel. He couldn't endure that. Not again.

'Nothing darling, don't panic.' you smile. 'I'm just curious, that's all.'

'A few years back Martha- she was a friend of mine- and I went back in time at the hands of a Weeping Angel. It's a weird feeling, sort of like a little electric shock.'

You spoke the last words aloud with him, recognising the sensation you felt from the stone. The Doctor looked at you curiously, wondering where you had picked up the knowledge from. Your time posing as Melody Malone had completely passed him by, and- although you had learned this then- you didn't want to bring it up if he had repressed the memory of New York.

'Doctor, I think we've found our suffragette.'

Retrieving the inkwell from where it resided- carefully cradled in the palm of your hand- you handed it to the Doctor. He peered inside it curiously, and rattled it delicately, swilling the stone around the glass with a calculated flick of his wrist. His hand was clasping the neck of the bottle, fingers poised around the opening in a claw-like position. He had placed his other hand underneath it to account for the precarious antique structure, just in case it crumbled.

Dropping the bottle onto his hand, the Doctor delicately tipped the pebble out onto his palm and flinched slightly at the slight zap from the time energy. His lips curled into a smile, and he looked up at you with the same enthusiasm that he used to. That's what you missed.

'[Y/N]. You are incredible. Did you know that? Absolutely incredible!'

Pulling the sonic screwdriver out from inside his jacket, the Doctor pointed it at the rock. He brought it back up with a flourish and you watched as the metal segments at the end closed partially around the green light.

'Interesting.' he muttered lowly as he rotated the screwdriver and read the information it bore.

'What?' Cyril asked, piping up from the step. He stood and craned his neck over the Doctor's shoulder, and looked visibly disappointed at his inability to read the Gallifreyan displayed on the sonic.

'The Angels only normally send people back by about sixty years or so, at the most. Miss Dorothy has been sent back exactly 150 years.'

'150 years? What was happening in 1770 that's so exciting?'

'Why don't I just show you?' the Doctor smiles. 

He was evidently putting on an excited front. You knew that whatever the sonic had told him, it wasn't good. 

'Hey, you okay?' 

'What? Oh, yes. Of course. I'm fine. Everything's fine.'

You didn't believe it, but you didn't question him either.  

The doors of the TARDIS opened after a short period of flight. You steadied Cyril as he swayed and stumbled across the floor. He clearly wasn't as accustomed to time travel as you were. 

The Doctor smacked the control panel in anger as you landed. 

'What's wrong?'

'We haven't moved. In time, anyway. We've just moved a few streets away. I told you the TARDIS is often unreliable!' He shouted the last part of his sentence, but that didn't stop you from stepping through the doors and inspecting your surroundings.

The room you found yourselves in wasn't unlike the world you left. It was dark, dusty and generally neglected. What you assumed was a disused floor in an old warehouse, it wasn't overly furnished- aside from a typewriter in the corner that was hooked up to a selection of wires that definitely were not from whatever time period you were in. Your eyes followed them through the room, and up to the bed on the opposite side. Propped up on a forty-five degree angle, was Miss Dorothy Cassidy. The wires were inserted on both sides of her head, and were alive with bright white lights that flowed quickly from her head to the typewriter that began clicking suspiciously.

The Doctor immediately sparked into action, grabbing a firm hold of the suffragette's shoulders and using it to steer her body so that he could get a clearer view of the wire's purpose.

He sighed. 'The wires are  implanted in her head. Whoever's behind this is literally robbing her of her thoughts.'

'The Doctor. Fancy seeing you here.' The voice came from the darkest corner of the room. It was deep, mysterious and had a thick American accent. 'And you brought a lady. A different one since I last saw you. She's beautiful, I admire your selection.'

The figure emerged from the shadows, a smirk plastered across his face. He lifted his hand from his side, and held it up in front of him.

'Captain Jack Harkness. It's a pleasure to meet you.'