Chapter 2
Why didn’t we just make a break for the TARDIS?
“Shut up!” the Doctor hissed. He and Wren had finally given their pursuers the slip, but now the Doctor wasn’t exactly sure where they were and to his dismay, Wren had no idea either.
It’s not as though they’ll hear me, Wren asserted sulkily. You’re the only one who can hear me.
“Yes, and I’m really beginning to despise that fact.” The Doctor was peering through a hole in the wall, trying to ascertain what was going on outside of the dark room they had found themselves in. He sighed. The guards were examining the TARDIS, feeling all of its sides and trying to find a way in, but to no avail. “Stop touching it!” he said to no one in particular.
I don’t think they can hear you Doctor, Wren said sarcastically. The Doctor turned and glared at her.
“This is your fault,” he whispered angrily, jabbing a finger at her. “You led me on to think you were so innocent, and I helped you because of it. You attacked four of your classmates! For all I know they had you locked up there because you’re a murdering psychopath. I’ve never liked your kind, far too violent—” The Doctor only stopped when he saw the look on the young girl’s face. She looked truly sorrowful, an emotion he hadn’t seen from her yet. “What is it, why are you looking at me like that?”
Give me your hand, she said. And I’ll show you.
The Doctor offered forth a hand nervously, and understandably so considering what had happened last time he had touched Wren. With both hands, Wren pressed the time traveler’s palm to her forehead and began to transmit her consciousness. Wren froze just as the Doctor had, and he began to see her memories come into focus.
Wren as a small girl watching her parents drive away as she sat on the academy steps, crying, Wren being shoved down stairs by her classmates because of her odd appearance, Wren being beaten by teachers for no apparent reason, Wren being forced to do back breaking physical labor despite her small size, Wren crying in her room, Wren deciding not to speak, Wren having her first dream about him, Wren drawing him on a her wall with a burned stick she had stolen from the fireplace she had just been forced to clean, Wren having to block the thoughts of others each morning, Wren hiding in her room from her classmates staring at what had become dozens of pictures of him and Rose, Wren losing control in the dining hall, Wren waking up drugged and unable to block out the minds of others, pain, so much pain—
The Doctor pulled his hand away. Wren fell back, tears running down her face. The Doctor looked at her with a sad, sympathetic expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
Now you know, she said shakily. This place is hell.
There was a silence between them for a very long time, as Wren rubbed at her eyes and the Doctor merely stared off wistfully. Wren knew exactly what he was feeling, but said nothing. Finally after what felt like forever, the Doctor snapped out of his daze.
“So why are we here in the dark anyways?” he said, suddenly quite chipper.
We couldn’t find the light switch, remem—
“Bah, light switches, who needs them,” said the Doctor. Again he removed the metal device from his pocket, which Wren now knew was called a Sonic Screwdriver. Again, a blue light emitted from the device and Wren watched as one by one the lights began to flicker on. The pair found themselves in a long hallway, still dim despite the lights now illuminating them. The Doctor gave sort of a satisfied smirk and then began down the hallway, beckoning for Wren to follow him.
Where are we going? she inquired.
“We’re going to find you a way out of here. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in the cell, that can be arranged too.” Wren nodded, smiling at the excitement she feel emanating from the Time Lord. She followed after him eagerly.
“I have a theory, by the way,” the Doctor said, walking quicker and quicker. “About why your mind came into contact with mine while you were sleeping. I know you theorized that perhaps we were sharing dreams, but that can’t possibly be true seeing as that would mean I have the same exact sleeping patterns as you, and also the last time I had a dream with Rose in it was a rather odd dream involving dancing bananas. No, no, I think it has more to do with the sheer size of your mind. Excepting of course other Time Lords, your brain capacity is the one of the largest I’ve ever encountered. When you showed me your memories, I noticed that every morning you had to shield your mind from an onslaught of thoughts, meaning your mind is completely unprotected while you are unconscious. You probably were subconsciously reaching out for any mind at comparable size to yours, and you found mine. I have to applaud you that’s no easy…”
The Doctor slowed, realizing he no longer heard Wren’s footsteps alongside his. He looked around uneasily.
“…Feat,” he finished frowning. He then began to back track, all the while calling the girl’s name. He found her, standing frozen before a door they had just passed. Looking at the door made the Doctor uneasy, as if he could tell there was something dreadful waiting behind it. Wren continued to stare at the door.
Pain, she said. So much pain.
“Wren—” he began, but the Alazarin did not seem to hear him. Instead, she took off through the door. “Wren don’t!” the Doctor yelled. He looked around frantically for an alternative, but not seeing one he rolled his eyes and gave a sigh of exasperation, taking off after her.
Eventually the Doctor saw Wren before him and he slowed his running to a stop. Wren had her hand pressed against a large glass tube, and with horror the Doctor realized that what was inside the tube was a small child, even smaller than Wren. He then began to look all around frenetically, discovering that there were multiple tubes filling the room, each containing a child. The tubes seemed to be connected to a large central generator.
“Batteries,” he said grimly. “Every last one of them.”
They can feel, Wren said angrily. Their pain is excruciating. No one should have to endure this!
With that the girl closed her eyes and began to focus intently. The child before her convulsed and then went limp, and a screen beside the tube displaying the child’s vitals began to flash red as the child flat lined.
“Have you gone off it?” the Doctor exclaimed. “You didn’t have to do that!”
I couldn’t leave them to suffer, she said indignantly, giving the Doctor a look that might have frozen beer.
“I could have helped you free them! But no, instead you murder it!” Wren was frightened. The Doctor was absolutely livid, his anger from before paling in comparison. “Who gave you the right to decide if they should live or die? No one has that right, no one! And it’s not just them Wren. The Headmistress is sure to have some sort of device for monitoring these children, and you just killed one. Now they’ll know we’re here Wren!”
Wren began to cry, but the Doctor was unmoved. He turned from her to see guards filing into the room from all sides. He scanned the place for some sort of possible exit, and seeing an open door with light flooding in from it, he picked up his small companion roughly and took off in the direction of the door.
The Doctor did not let up until he was sure that they were no longer being pursued. He let go of Wren, who was still crying, and the Time Lord paced about in a circle for a bit, raking his hands through his hair. He looked at Wren and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then jerked away and paced a bit more. Finally, he came to a stop.
“Wren,” he said very deliberately. “I need you to take me to the rest of the Alazarin.”
