Chapter Twenty-Four
Irene
Where am I?
Does it matter? Laughs a much higher, squeakier voice than my own. You're safe.
Right. I'm safe.
I recognize the sense of direction, and open my eyes. I squeak. Intense, dark eyes bore into mine. A visual of MJ, her skin sliced up in an ungodly fashion, races through my mind. But this skin is darker than hers, and still intact.
"Hi," I smile. I don't know why. Because I'm safe here, I suppose. Wherever here is. I stretch out all my tight muscles, and feel the grit of sand under my fingernails when I smooth my dress.
"Young lady, you should get up," says the man gruffly.
"Why? It's fine down here. I could sleep forever."
"You and me both." He disappears from my vision, and I assume he left me here, so I shut my eyes again and sigh contentedly. With no warning, hands are wedged under my shoulders, and I yelp as I am wrenched off the ground and to my feet.
"Hm?" My legs wobble, and I stretch again. I glance around, but every thing in my vision is oily and doesn't seem important enough to register. So I ignore it. I'm safe here, anyway, wherever it is. "I like your hat, Mister. Where can I get one?" Yes. I would like a hat like that. I ruffle the skirts of my dress, and take one step that turns my foot to jelly and I fall forward. The man catches me, and sets me back up right.
"What's your name?" He asks, British. Of course.
I rub my eyes. "Why? Who wants to know?"
He asks, "Ren?"
Immediately, I focus. "What did you say?"
"That's what your friends called you, I think. I heard him say it. Is that you?"
"Friend..." a nagging voice in my head tells me that this is important information, but it slides off my mind like butter on a hot skillet. "Yes. Where can I buy a hat?"
"My name is Mayor Wenchil."
"My name is like... Irene... or something." I wander past him, humming a tune.
"Oh, this is bad," he mutters.
"What is?" I ask airily. "I like your hat."
"You have your own," he gestures towards my head. I reach up to feel for a hat, but instead find strings of entangled metal circling my head. A crown. I pull at it, but it won't come off. I guess I don't mind.
"Huh." I smile, and continue gliding towards the nearest gazebo structure. "That's cool."
"Irene, your friends need you. They're looking for you."
"Why? I'm right here. Ooh, are those strawberries?" I promptly pick and eat three from the bush. They taste more metallic than strawberries, but they're still good. "So, where are they? I'll bring them back."
"The last I saw of them... they were jumping off a cliff."
I blanch. "What?"
This changes things. The nagging sense in my brain that whispers how something is off about this situation surfaces again, and this time I believe it. Some thing must be wrong.
"Were they jumping into a pool?" I ask hopefully. Maybe they were just playing around. They're just having fun.
"I don't know," he admits. "I saw you appear and came to help."
Something catches my eye. The inside of his wrist is red, like it was rubbed against carpet. Something about this is familiar to me.
Hesitantly, I ask, "Can I... can I see your hand, please?" I hold out my own.
He glances down at his hand briefly, and places it in the palm of my outstretched one. I flip over one and inspect his wrist. Where is my bag? Last I remember, I had my bag, and I was battling some kind of wind. My bag has a tiny magnifying glass tucked away that would be great right now. Instead, I am forced to squint. What I see instead of a rash or carpet burn is a hundred of the tiniest red specks possible.
"What happened to your face?" Asks the Mayor. I grind my teeth together, and taste the sharpness of blood before I realize I caught my cheek between them.
"Radiation," I reply. A peppermint breeze wraps around me, towing after it rays of golden sunshine. Something is wrong. It's on the tip of my tongue. "What cliff did they jump off of?" I demand all of a sudden. I have to find them. What if they were pushed? What if they're mangled messes of blood and meat at the bottom of a steep incline, and I'm eating strawberries in paradise? My vision clears, like I have been seeing only a foggy reflection of every thing around me this whole time. With nothing to round the edges, everything about this oasis seems sharp and hostile. "Where are they?"
He points. In the distance, over a hill of swaying yellow grass, I see only the sky. I storm through one open building of people and creatures who dance and laugh, dining on sweets that invite me to pause for a moment. But I can't. Every one of the creatures have the rash somewhere on their bodies. Those with wings or flippers instead of arms have it on the backs of their necks. Those with unnatural heads or gills have it on their wrists or collarbones.
I run. My shoes propel me forward, and a key memory rushes back to me.
In it, remember at the manor of Madame Vastra, seeing those vines. The ones that were covered in thorns that burrowed into skin and induced a dream state for the recipient. Whoever stole those vines returned them. Were finished with them.
"I am an idiot!" I exclaim. I wade through the yellow grass, praying that my brother isn't dead.
I reach the dropoff abruptly, and look down. Immediately, I regret it. Below me, dark water set in turmoil crashes against the cliffside. I shut my eyes.
"No... don't be dead," I murmur to no one in particular. What do I do? What's next? Who do I turn to? I press the heels of my hands against my temples. My mind is as chaotic as the water below, deafening, darkening with the setting sun, and losing form.
"This whole town is trapped here, and I'm the only one who knows," says Mayor Wenchil. "My son is probably dead. I don't know who you are, or your friends, or where any of you are from. You look young, but today is a day of impossibilities. So please. If you can help us, I will do anything you say."
I breathe out shakily. The fading warmth on my skin feels so real, but at the same time, no, it doesn't. I feel shaken, spooked, like someone walked over my grave.
"Those fairies could have used the vines to put everyone to sleep. Which means they know about Vastra. Which means..." I click my fingers around my head, trying to summon a solution. "They need you for something. When they first got here, what is it they did?"
"They... offered new technology, surgeries, architecture."
I growl with frustration. It doesn't make sense. "What kind of architecture? What kind of surgeries?"
He looks strangely frightened. "Horrible ones. They tore open bodies and rooted around like they were looking for something. If they couldn't find what they needed they called the surgery unsuccessful. Those citizens never returned to the Crescent."
"So, they're looking for something. But what would they look for? Where are they from?"
"They said they were from the Angel of Natalie."
"That doesn't help." I feel tears start to prick the edges of my eyes. There's nothing I can do. Say. Anything. Where is my brother?
A horrible idea begins to form in my mind. It scares me more than being eternally trapped here, wherever here happens to be. But it could be my only shot. I fold my arms, forcing myself to breathe. Don't be stupid Irene. You could die.
But still, the words force their way out. "What would happen if I just died?"
His eyes pop wide open. "What?"
"Well we're dreaming, aren't we? Aren't we?"
"In theory."
"Okay. So if I died, would I wake up?" I tug at the crown on my head. It's weight is unnaturally heavy. "I would find my brother. Maybe even your son. I could figure out how to get you all out?" I don't like how it sounds like a question. I need to be confident. Without a doubt.
But I'm not.
"You would bargain with your life?" He asks.
I bite my lip, and say the stinging. "If I don't, the universe will."
Mayor Wenchil's face creases with confusion. I take a deep breath.
"If they're gone, I'm stuck here. Forever. I can never see my family again. If this is my only hope of finding them... I have to take it."
He steps forward.
I snap, "Do you have a better idea?"
And, of course, he doesn't. And there's a bank of sand below this cliff, so I breathe out heavily, shut my eyes, and with a little prayer of sanity, I imagine watching a movie. On the screen, a sky view of a girl standing on the edge of a cliff flickers. On the sofa, I think to the girl, "Do it. You know there's no other way."
She breathes in sharply, murmurs something about heaven and promises, and falls back on command from me. The man standing in front of her lunges to catch her, but he is far too late.
She falls.
And falls.
And falls.
Wind flutters through her dress. My dress. The sand, like a target she aimed for, waits with open arms.
I never saw her hit the ground, but I saw the crown leave her head mid-fall.
***
There's something stopping me from breathing. Naturally, I tear at the barrier, only to find myself gripping someone's hand. My eyes snap open. The moment my eyes focus, I gasp.
"Tony! It worked" I cry, and wriggle around in his arms to fling my arms around his neck. He places my feet on the ground, and wraps his arms around me. "You're not dead!" I gasp. He shushes me, and pulls me away to look around me. We're in a small, cramped room, and a tall figure is hunched over an otherworldly panel of glowing controls.
"Doctor," I say. I reach out and tug on his sleeve, but he doesn't turn to look at me. I look up at Tony, who shrugs.
"He's been like this for a while."
"Where are we?" I ask. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and purses his lips.
"It doesn't matter. The fairies are here. We got you away from... anyway, are you okay? Did they do something to you?"
I glance behind me at the wall. "You got me away from what?"
"It doesn't matter."
I open my mouth, but The Doctor suddenly speaks. "You said something worked. What worked?"
My stomach churns, and flops over on itself. My whole body seems to be revolting against something inside of me. "I don't know. I was in this town, and I met a man, and I couldn't concentrate on how wrong everything was and... and I jumped off a cliff."
"What town?"
"It was the town from the, uh, the thing. The vision thing. Why are you looking at me like that? What is it? What's wrong? I-" I clutch Tony's wrist tightly, get on my knees, and retch everything in my stomach. "I'm sorry. I don't know-" dry heaves overtake me, like my stomach just isn't satisfied with kicking everything in it out; it has to write endless eviction notices to nothing before it's happy.
Tony rubs my back gently, and I gasp for air.
"You ate something in that town, didn't you," The Doctor, crouching in front of me, states. He lifts up my chin, inspecting my face. "You did."
"I'm sorry," I groan. My stomach contracts again, I lean forward, clutching my stomach and gagging.
"That world isn't real. What's there belongs in there, and you can't retain it when you wake up."
"What about here? We haven't woken up," Tony hisses. "We came here directly."
"We did. We did. But the dreams can't interact with reality. So we have to be real. But how? How?"
I wipe my mouth on my tattered dress sleeve, and sit down on the floor, which seems too warm for what it is. I slump against Tony's arm.
"Oh, of course. Wait, of course!" The Doctor stands up.
"Of course what?" I mutter.
"This isn't just a spaceship. They've wired it to join the dream and reality. Think of it like the two sides of a wall. They set up a wall when they replicated that town and put all its inhabitants in it. You can't have it leaking into reality. But through this, you can pass from one side of the wall to the other. A moor in a spaceship in a dream in a desert. Is this life of mine everything you thought it would be?"
"A moor?" I demand, prying myself to my feet.
"Yes," and then, "Ohh." Just with that word, the temperature drops a couple of degrees. I snatch Tony's hand.
"What?" He turns away, and scans around us with his sonic screwdriver. Insistently, I ask, "'Oh', what?"
"A dream isn't just a dream. It can be a stasis cube. A reality locked away from the rest of us. And if you couldn't eat anything there, that means they've been eating that did for years. They're made of it. If they left that cube, they would die."
"The mayor's son," Tony says.
"He's here?" I breathe.
"Not anymore. Not alive."
"Oh my word."
"So, what do we do? We have to help them."
"We do. We do. I told you we would. Why aren't they attacking us? They know we're here."
I chew on my bottom lip. "They must want something from us."
This doesn't help us think of any answers. "Why are they even doing any of this?" Tony finally bursts out. I shake my head. The dark air seems to weigh down more on my shoulders every second.
A drop of saltwater escapes each of my eyes. Tony has seen something horrible. And based on the use of the word "moor" and how Mayor Wenchil's son is dead, it isn't hard to determine that an undetermined amount of people have died. And now we're stuck, trapped, with nothing but a flood of questions to accompany us. In the back of my mind, MJ's mangled skin and the landscape of chaos still stings me. The consistency in my breathing pattern disappears, and my knees wobble. Cyllia in my head. Tumor in my head. No way out. No way out.
"Irene," The Doctor says gently. I look up, and wipe away the wetness on my cheeks. He glances at my brother, and takes my shoulders firmly, crouching down and forcing me with him. "You've seen something horrible."
I squeeze my eyes shut and press together my lips, trying to shut out the memory. I barely nod. I manage to look at him, and see a strange look in his eyes. Something like sorrow, something like pity. Like I don't belong here, and he regrets bringing me.
"Tell me," he says softly. I shut my eyes, and shake my head vigorously.
"No. No. I can't."
"You have to," he tries.
I glare at him, "I don't have to do anything."
"Then tell me this. What do you suppose we do?"
Tony's ever present hand on my back balls into a fist.
"You're clever. You know more about this that we do probably. So what do we do next, Irene?"
"I don't know!" I cry, looking up at him hopelessly. "Why are you asking me?"
"Okay, that's enough," Tony thunders, helping me to my feet with a sharp gaze afixed to The Doctor.
"No, it's not. Tell me what we do next, Irene," The Doctor says, taking a step forward. "You must know."
"Why would I know?" I squeak. His eyes are darkening like they did in the house where we found the lady with the gouged out eyes. He takes another step forward, but a black veil passes between myself and him.
It's only when I hear his voice growl, "That is enough," do I realize it's my brother, who has my friend by the collar of his shirt.
When he drops back beside me, The Doctor has already mobbed back to the controls. Tony drapes his arm around my shoulders. I take a deep breath.
"Okay, we're all freaked out," I say tentatively. My hoarse voice sounds like ringing bells in the deathly silence. "I've seen something that I think I'm going to regret, and so have you two, because you won't tell me why the hell you've been reference a moor off and on. We just want to get home. And Doctor, you're trying to deal with something way beyond us at the same time." He stops fiddling and rests his hands on the panel, dropping his whole form down between his arms. "Let's all just calm down and try to think of a way out, okay? Where will we get with fighting?"
My courage threatens to shrivel up when neither of them responds. I force it to stay alive, however, and lean into my brother for the illusion of safety.
"Okay," Tony finally breathes, "Okay. If they don't belong here, did they come here intentionally?"
Reserved now, The Doctor says, "No." He turns around. "I've been checking their systems. They crashed on their way to the Angel of Natalie."
"I've heard those words three times today, and I still don't know what they mean," I sigh.
"If we're being literal, it means the Angel of Christmas," chimes in Tony. I glance up at him strangely. "What? Dillon is writing a book."
"What does this have to do with Dillon?"
"He's been telling me about the research process. Apparently, it's tedious."
The Doctor rubs his hands together thoughtfully, "The Angel of Christmas. Sounds like a lovely place. They must want to get back."
"Then why have they been killing people instead of planning escape?" I wonder aloud. Tony begins walking around the small room, dragging his fingers against the walls as he walks by each.
"Energy? Parts? Purpose?" The Doctor brainstorms. He rubs his forehead.
"Not any of that," I insist. "Didn't you say they aren't doing anything with the bodies? Nothing happens in a moor, right?"
"Right. Right. So, what do we know from this? If they're just piling up bodies, making the whole planet barren, not trying to hide it... then, what? What? Think, think."
"They want to be noticed," I offer. "They wanted people to come to this amazing planet and wonder what happened, to try and find out."
"Which explains why they're letting us be here," The Doctor finishes. "They need us to find something. Or do something."
"But they've killed all the other people who have tried to figure stuff out," Tony points. "There are mountains of bodies out there. Why would we be different?"
"There are what?" I stare.
Ignoring me, The Doctor says, "Because we're different. Think about it. We have the TARDIS. They want us to take them home."
"Then why don't we? It would fix everything."
"Not everything would be fixed. The stasis of people would still be trapped."
"Besides that, the TARDIS is too dangerous. They potentially could take over. Mutiny."
I want to cry with frustration. "Give me a second," I say, covering my ears and closing my eyes. Shutting down all of my senses helps me think. Giving my brain room to focus by taking away the distractions.
When we first got here, they asked us to help their friends. Then, they sent us to said friends. I picture the desert where I ran from the sandstorm, and then gasp. If they wanted me in the ship they could have just taken me directly there. But they didn't. They made me fall asleep, put me in the dream with those people.
"Doctor!" I open my eyes, absolutely sparkling. "They aren't the villains! The fairies, they aren't the problem!"
Tony shakes his head. "Irene, they killed people. In horrible ways."
"Yeah! They did. It's all they knew! Think about it! Look at them. They clearly came from somewhere amazing. What if they thought that the people here weren't good enough to deal with what to them is horrible conditions? They are used to those surgeries to give themselves stuff like wings and gills and stuff, but the people here weren't. Some of them didn't even survive the surgeries. So they panicked. They put them all in a dream state, and now they can't get them out!"
Tony stares at me, dumbfounded. I've fired up The Doctor, though. He's bouncing on his toes, brain going at a hundred miles an hour.
"They killed the other people because they didn't want the universe to file them with genocide. That would mean that it was an accident. She didn't make them do this."
I have a sneaking suspicion that I know exactly who he is talking about.
"Why wouldn't they just tell us all of this?" Demands Tony.
"Because," The Doctor says, "if they told us outright, we would have run for the hills." Then upon seeing my expression, he affectionately adds, "At least, you and I would have, Tony."
"Then, come on, let's go," I exclaim. "They clearly think we can get those people out of the dream. So, let's go!"
"Yes. Waking them up would kill them instantly. Most of their bodies are already dead. Taking them out of the Dream in their new forms; that could work."
***
It was difficult, having a town of people who, once the effect of the Dream had worn off, thought they were in an enclosure with their captors/oppressors, the fairies. It took a lot of explaining, especially to Mayor Wenchil.
We dropped off the fairies at a planet nearby the Angel of Natalie- The Doctor refused to go directly to their home planet- and took the townspeople to a planet called Apulapuchia. Here, we attend a garden party with the welcoming parties of the planet who call themselves the Apulapuchians, who assure us the townspeople of Cliffside Crescent will be well looked after here.
Here under the soaring sky and glinting suns, in the shadow of a beautiful stone building which reminds me of the Greek architecture I learned about last year in school, I allow myself to relax for the first time for the first time today. While my brother and The Doctor discuss who-knows-what a few yards away, I sit on soft red picnic blanket in a sundress dress sipping sparkling silver tea and resetting the two watches which I wear, one on each wrist. The blue and gold one was a few minutes ahead, while the sparkling black one with its silver hands proved to be nearly an hour behind. I had noticed that they easily messed up when we travelled through time.
Soft chatter drifts through the undisturbed air as people discuss calming things like flowers and recipes. Nearby, a boy with blue hair and slanted eyes chases a girl with stunning golden irises around a blooming bush. I could easily stay here forever.
A figure sits down beside me, and I smile kindly at my friend. Alongside the dress they handed me, someone gave me a gel for my cracked lips when we got here, and they are feeling much better.
Tony is absently browsing the snack table, which is covered with a lace blanket.
"Walk with me," The Doctor offers, standing up. I squint up at him, unused to the tone of voice, but hesitantly agree.
We wander through the garden until we emerge from the tall bushes to a balcony which overlooks a deep canyon of red rock where the bases of towering, twisting silver collonades are planted. I sip the sparkling iced tea and set down the delicate glass cup on the balcony railing.
After a moment, my friend speaks gently, "Irene, you have to stay home, now."
My brow furrows. "What?"
He just looks out across the land that is so far below us. No longer blocked by the tall bushes, a breeze chills my shoulders.
"Will I still be able to see you?" I ask cradling my elbows. He looks down at me with warm, reluctant eyes, but I already know the answer. Of course I won't. "Why?"
"I am a stupid, selfish man," he admits. "I've made too many enemies in my lifetimes. I thought I could keep you and your brother out of it, but it's too massive to pretend like it doesn't exist. No one else needs to be trapped in my mess."
"But I already am," I argue, thinking of the landscape of chaos.
His whole posture hardening, The Doctor demands, "How do you mean?"
"I..." for a reason that I am not quite sure of, my brain does a U-turn and changes my course of speech. "I just mean, I've already gotten so involved in it. I want to know what's going on."
He smiles softly, and shakes his head, relaxing. "This was a mistake, Irene. You're too fragile to belong in this kind of life. I was selfish to bring you into it."
I don't feel heartbroken by this or anything; but I do feel a little stab of betrayal. He seemed so excited to have me travelling with him. Maybe it made me feel like I still had a place in the universe that didn't constantly remind me of the pure death creeping through my mind. I rub my forehead.
Fragile. He thinks I'm fragile. Just like all those people who changed their minds about my strength because of a stupid tumor. I'm not the same person anymore to them, or to him, my friend. The sunset sends rays of orange reflecting off the far off soaring silver and into my eyes, and off the sharp angles of The Doctor's face.
Everything here is complicated, and beautiful, important somehow in a way that I could never be. Never, not anymore. It was like in only a few weeks the cancer had taken away not only my life, but everything inside of me, too. It just pulled the plug and let everything drain out of me. Now all anyone could see was the empty shell.
"Why do you wear two watches?" He asks curiously, out of the blue. I fold my arms, hiding them from him.
"They were both gifts. Leave me alone, Doctor."
I walk away from him. The only remnant he has of me is the glass cup on the stone ledge and the flat, watered-down, no-longer-iced iced tea inside of it. A metaphor for myself, I suppose. Watered-down. Unwanted.
Fragile.
You guys. I have such a huge surprise planned in the next episode. It has taken me so long to write (It's a two-parter!), which is why I haven't posted in a while. But it's done now, so stay tuned!
Read On, Awkward Ferrets!
-TheLivingParadox
Up Next: The Stopwatch Antebellum