Lost In Time: A Doctor Who Fanfiction

Chapter 68 - Hidden Heroes

She kept crawling, and eventually passed by another grille over a hallway. Soldiers were running through on high alert, barking orders and weapons at the ready. A red light over a doorway opposite the grille was flashing, and she heard what looked like a commander ordering one of the soldiers to alert Maken of the situation. There was nothing she could do here, so she kept going, careful not to make any noise.

Maken. Bethar had mentioned that name, said he'd learned something from the memories of the Time Lord. That meant that he either had learned them from the Eleventh Doctor's clone passing them on, or he was the clone. Either way, he sounded like one of the head honchos, and thus should be avoided.

When she came upon another patch of light five minutes later, she didn't even bother getting her hopes up.

And then she looked through the grille into an empty room, presumably another laboratory. Forcing herself to wait and listen for any signs of someone coming in, she mentally rejoiced when everything remained completely quiet. Trying to push open the grille, her hand slipped and sliced itself on the grating.

Letting out an involuntary cry and clutching her hand, she froze when she realized that she had potentially lost her cover. Still holding her stinging palm, she waited tensely for soldiers to come charging into the room, or even, no matter how ridiculous the idea was, the vent.

But nothing happened, even after she'd waited an extra few minutes. At last she realized that she might as well act now, and hopefully be prepared if someone came in, than wait too long and be caught in the act. Being more careful this time, she latched onto the grille and carefully pushed it away from the wall, tightening her grip when the magnets gave way and it fell forward.

Slowly pushing her way out of the vent, she looked around the room for a way to get down, and saw a bookcase below, similar to the setup in the laboratory she'd woken up in. Placing the vent cover on top of the shelf, she wriggled her way out of the vent and onto the bookcase, careful to test its ability to hold her weight before trusting it completely. Putting the grille back into place, she grimaced when she saw that she'd left dirty, slightly bloody marks on it.

Her grimace grew even deeper when she looked at her hands. They were covered in a solid layer of dust and grime, and there was a thin cut on her left hand that was sluggishly bleeding. Biting her lip (which also tasted like dust, ew), she tried to think. Wiping her hands off on her shirt was a no go, that was just as dirty as she was. The inside, however...

Flipping over the bottom of her shirt, she wiped her hands off on it as best as she could, mentally grumbling at the loss of yet another cute shirt she'd probably end up never wearing again. Reaching out and grabbing the vent again, she wiped it off on the opposite side of her shirt, wrinkling her nose as it only seemed to smear at first.

Finally, however, it was returned to its white state, and she placed it back against the wall, careful to ensure that it wasn't upside down this time. Once that was in place, she looked down at the shelf she was currently on top of, trying to figure out the best way down, preferably without breaking something.

Her best bet was to stick to the supports, and get to the ground as soon as possible before someone came in and found her in an undefendable position. Wrapping her hands around one of the supports, and wincing when her palm protested, she shimmied down the bookcase, dropping to the floor when she was a few feet away.

She grunted as the impact jarred her feet, and quickly stood up straight, checking herself over for more injuries. Aside from the cut on her palm, which felt more like a deep paper cut than anything more serious, and the bruises she already knew about, she seemed unharmed.