CHRYSALIS

THE SOUND OF DRUMS

The Doctor stares at the screen showing Saxon walking down with an entourage, "Abby?"
The woman at his side is indeed Abby.

"I said I knew that voice. When he spoke inside the Tardis. I've heard that voice hundreds of times. I've seen him. We all have. That was the voice of Harold Saxon."

"That's him. He's Prime Minister."

"Mr. Saxon, this way, sir. Come on, kiss for the lady, sir."

"The Master is the Prime Minister of Great Britain." The Doctor watches, heartbroken as Saxon kisses Abby, "The Master and his wife."

"This country has been sick. This country needs healing. This country needs medicine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that, what this country really needs, right now... is a doctor."

I walk beside Harry, my lovely husband through the hall.

Clerks hand him files as we pass. We stop outside the door to the Cabinet Room.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry." I kiss him softly.

"Bless."

"Uh, sir..." We both turn to face a black woman. Her face seems confused as she keeps glancing at me.

"If you don't mind me asking... I'm sorry, but it's all a bit new. What exactly do you want me to do?" She asks.

"Oh yes, what was it, uh...?"
"Tish. Letitia Jones." She glances at me.

"Tish. well then, Tish... You just stand there and look gorgeous." Harry enters the cabinet room.

"What happened?" Tish asks.

"What do you mean?" I furrow my brows in confusion.

"You and Martha? I thought you were dating?" She asks.

"I'm sorry." I let out a small laugh, "I don't know who that is."
"My sister. You and she went to Lazarus Laboratories with your friend, the Doctor? I think. That's where we met."

I purse my lips, "I've never met you before today. I can't say I have a clue what you're talking about."

I sit in a room alone, embroidering a piece of fabric, the door opens.
"Mrs. Saxon, Vivien Rook, Sunday Mirror." A woman holds up a press card, "You've heard of me."
"Oh, can't I just have an hour to myself?" I ask rhetorically.
"Oh, strike while the iron's hot, that's what I say, Abby. I can call you Abby, can't I? Now, everyone's talking about Harold Saxon, but I thought, 'What about the wife?' All I need is twenty minutes."
"Oh, I think maybe we should wait." I glance to the connecting door.
"The headline's waiting to print: The Power Behind the Throne."

"Really?" I ask.

"Britain's First Lady."
"Gosh."
"Front page."
"Oh, well, I suppose..." I continue with my embroidery, "Go on then. Twenty minutes."
"Excellent! Thank you! Oh, oh, what was it? Oh, Tish. Now you can leave us alone." Vivien hands Tish her coat.
"No, but I'm supposed to sit in." Tish tries to protest, looking to me.

"No, no. It's... it's only a profile piece. You know, hair and clothes and nonsense. There's a good girl. Out you go. That's it." She pushes Tish out the door and closes it, "Mrs. Saxon, I have reason to believe... that you're in very great danger. All of us, in fact. Not just the country, but the whole world."

I look up from my work, "What are you talking about?"
"Your husband is not who he says he is. I'm sorry, but it's a lie. Everything's a lie. All of it. The school days, his degree, and even his mother and father. It's all invented." She holds up a photo, "Look, Harold Saxon never went to Cambridge. There was no Harold Saxon. The thing is, it's obvious. The forgery is screaming out and yet no one can see it. It's as if he mesmerized the entire world. 18 months ago, he became real. This is his first, honest-to-god appearance, just after the downfall of Harriet Jones. And at the exact same, they launched the Archangel Network. Even now they say that the... the Cabinet has gone into seclusion. I mean, what does that mean, 'seclusion'?"