The Fate of Persephone (10/OC) (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter Seven: At Last

            Jackie Tyler came back from the supermarket and set the bags down on the kitchen table, beginning to put everything in their proper places, when she noticed something on the counter that was definitely not hers.  It was a switchblade.   A black one.

          With the blade extended, it came to nine inches.  It was about four and a half inches when folded.  It was light but sturdy and had two knobs on either side that worked as levers to whip the wickedly sharp blade out and back in with a simple flick of the wrist.  It was quite a frightening object and Jackie knew it was not a possession of her own or Mickey's.  It must, she resolved, belong to Persephone, forgotten when she fled from meeting the Doctor.

              She put it back on the table to worry about later.

~*~*~*~*~*~

            Several hours later, a knock sounded on the front door, and Jackie leapt to open it, a greeting to Persephone forming on her lips.  (She didn't have to worry about the security chain because it was hanging uselessly from the door itself.). But it wasn't the homeless girl, it was the Doctor, standing on her doorstep with his hands dug in his pockets and a tired look in his eyes covered up by his usual display of relaxation. 

           "Hullo, Jackie," he said.  "Has Persephone stopped by?"  Jackie shook her head and then opened the door wider for the time lord to step inside when she saw him deflate slightly, his casual persona cracking.  He followed the Tyler inside and closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling exhausted, now that his excitement had left.  He trudged over to the sofa and threw himself down on it dramatically, letting out a massive sigh.

           Jackie pitied him, saying, "Ooh, you poor thing!  I'll make you some tea!  That'll cheer you up!"  From the couch cushions, the Doctor's voice spoke up "You do know I'm not actually British, right?"  Jackie scoffed and didn't stop the tea-making routine.  "You spend so much time here, you may as well be," she responded, carrying the beverage in a pink 'I'm a cutie and I know it!' mug to the alien, still sprawled face-down on the pillows.  "Here you are, love," she said, setting the mug down on a coaster on the coffee table.  "Piping hot." 

           The Doctor finally lifted his head to look over at the mug, eyes half closed with drowsiness and lack of motivation.  His hair was more wild than usual, as if he had been constantly running his hands through it in agitation.  But when he saw the tea, he heaved himself up and took the mug in his hands, letting the steam gently caress his face.  "I just want her to be safe," he muttered softly, not meaning to direct it to anyone in particular, mostly to himself.

              Jackie's bottom lip stuck out in sympathy before she remembered the object she had found earlier.  "Oh!" she exclaimed.  "I nearly forgot!  I had just gotten done with the shopping and was putting things away when I found this..." She jogged into the kitchen and came out momentarily, holding the knife in her hand.  She walked over to the Doctor, who had perked up slightly with interest, and set it down beside his mug.  "What do you make of it," she asked.  "I assumed it was Persephone's, since I don't own anything like that, so I said to myself—"

         The Doctor cut her off before she could go on a tangent, grabbing the knife and holding it close to his face.  "You're right," he said, though admitting the Tyler was right sent an icky feeling through him. 

             "Well how do you know?" Jackie asked.  The Doctor responded immediately, "Well for starters, I can feel her energy on it.  Second..." he suddenly brought the object to his face and licked it.  "Yup.  Tastes like the outdoors.  It's rarely --if ever-- been inside for a long period of time.  This knife's also expensive, there's no way she would have been able to afford it." 

             "So she stole it?" Jackie asked.  The Doctor's head jerked up, an affronted expression on his face "No, of course not!" he said, it seeming to Jackie that he was taking her statement as an insult to himself instead of Persephone.    "She must have found it and kept it," he continued.  "My point is, this is a very nice knife and likely the only protection she has.  (Besides her fist, which can do a lot of damage.) She's not just going to forget about it.  When she realizes it's missing, she'll go looking for it."

"And you think she'll come here?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Well, what do you want to do?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

          The night air was thick and bitterly cold as Persephone rounded to the back of the Powell Estate, scouting for Jackie's flat.  She was still in just her T-shirt, jeans and Converse, and was numb and therefore unfeeling of the cold.  She finally found the back of Jackie's flat and eyed a window that she knew lead into the bathroom.  Thankfully, there was an overhanging roof under this window, so climbing to it was easier than expected, though her broken fingers hindered her. 

            At last, she pulled herself up to the window sill and peered cautiously inside.  The bathroom door was closed, as usual, and the room was empty.  She wedged her good fingers under the bottom of the window (left unlocked) and slid it up.  Then she expertly dislodged the safety screen and hoisted herself inside, landing with the stealth of a panther. 

          She froze for a few minutes, listening for movement.  It was after midnight, however, and she knew Jackie (being the heavy sleeper that she was) would be fast asleep and would be completely oblivious to her arrival.  She propped the screen against the wall and left the window open in case she had to make a quick getaway.  Then she crept over to the door and put her ear against it.

Silence.

              She slowly grasped the doorknob and opened the door just enough for her to slip through.  The flat was toasty and filled Percy with warmth and she wished that she was there under different circumstances so that she could revel in it longer.  But she was on a mission and nothing could deter her. 

             She thought back to the places in the house she had been in during her visits here.  She first checked the kitchen, sticking to the shadows cast by the closed-architecture style of the flat.  She peered into the kitchen and scanned the counters and chairs and floors.  Nothing.  So she tiptoed through and rounded into the living room.  She walked in past the sofa and knelt down to look under the telly and the coffeetable, only finding the flooring and some dust bunnies.  There was nothi---

"Hullo."