Eyes Of Conscience

PSYCHANGE

PSYCHANGE

Luke’s Dreamscape

Sarah-Jane rubbed her forehead.  A dizzy spell caused her elbow to slip off the desk scraping it against the corner.  Frowning she rubbed it as she continued her marathon telephoning around the Police Stations of the UK.  So far no one had turned up claiming to know Luke Smith either as friend, son, nephew, grandson or cousin.  When she described Nancy there were a few little whistles and some said: “Wish I knew someone that looked like that... some twerps has all the luck!”

Currently, she was speaking to one such officer.  Gritting her teeth she gripped tightly onto the phone: “I can assure you, Officer, Mr Luke Smith is NOT a TWERP!” before slamming the phone back on the hook.

“No luck?” the Brigadier asked sighing as he too had finished an equally odious task of trying to convince Luke to tell him the truth.

“None,” Sarah-Jane sighed concern took over in her voice and expression.  “You would think that someone would miss him, wouldn’t you?”

The Brigadier stepped up to her and squeezed her shoulder.  “You should find a sofa and rest I think,” he said, “if The Doctor calls I shall just tell him that humans need sleep even if his sort don’t!”

Sarah-Jane smiled wryly as she pushed back the seat.  Flicking a pen between her hands tapping a very quick, staccato rhythm before rolling it along her lips: “What if he is telling the truth?”

“What?” The Brigadier raised his eyebrows.

“No, I mean,” she glanced at Alastair her eyes glowed, “Luke,” she said leaning forward folding her arms on the desk, hitting the desk with her hands to emphasise the next point, “if it was a lie, it surely would have unravelled by now,” standing up she began to pace the room eventually landing close to him, “no one can keep a story that tight with The Doctor interrogating them!”

“True,” he conceded, “stronger men than he has quailed underneath The Doctor’s stare!”

“And there is something odd happening to me,” she said.

“Do you need an ambulance?” The Brigadier immediately went to call 999.

Laughing Sarah-Jane shook her head: “Not that sort of odd,” she stood toe to toe, impetuously grabbing his hand, “I just feel something inside here!” she pressed his hand against her heart, “strong - when I hugged him -” slipping his hand away she stepped back frowning, “oh I do not know,” exasperation made her stamp her foot, “I cannot explain it... I just have this feeling that he is who he says he is and I am who he say’s I am.”

The Brigadier took her gently by the elbow.  “Come on,” he said, “you should rest.  You are tired,” suddenly he started to yawn, “come to think of it, so am I!”

Sarah-Jane had never felt so lethargic in her life.  Neither had The Brigadier, he was the sort that only needed Decaf to keep him awake.  Very strange sensation took over them both as they both swayed and staggered to somewhere, where they could lie down.

Luke rubbed his eyes: “Doctor,” he mumbled, trying very hard to stay awake, “what is...” stretch, yawn, “what is happening?”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked as he glanced up from a particularly strange substance he was studying underneath a microscope, “Are you well, dear lad?”

The Doctor noticed Luke pale significantly in front of him.  The boy was sweating though it was not particularly hot in this room.  “I feel...” Luke stumbled against the table.  “I feel... sleepy!”