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

Chapter 19: Justice and Mercy

            The two finally made it back to Ward 26, the white light of the bulbs above and the sunlight streaming through the windows contrasting severely with the dimness of the ICU, momentarily blinding them. But they were forced out of their surprise by Frau Clovis, assistant to the Duke of Manhattan, who charged at them with a stool and a very un-ladylike battle cry.

            "We're safe!" the Doctor shouted, instinctively positioning himself in front of Persephone with his arms stretched out. "We're clean! Look, look!" Her stern face never wavering, Clovis demanded "Show me your skin." The Doctor and Cassandra both were eager to comply, pushing back their sleeves. (Well, the Doctor did. Percy was wearing a camisole). "Look, clean!" the Doctor continued. "If we'd been touched, we'd be dead." That seemed to be sufficient proof, and the woman lowered the stool back to the ground, straightening her jacket and smoothing back her hair, attempting to regain the dignity she lost by that barbaric display.

            Once the threat of being bludgeoned to death by a stool was placated, the Doctor stepped away from Percy, shoving his hands in his pockets and assessing his surroundings. "So how's it going up here? What's the status?" All around, beds that were once filled with patients were now primarily empty, with their former occupants pressed up against a door at the far end of the ward, including the Duke himself (who, quite frankly, seemed to be single-handedly holding it closed, thanks to his weight.)

           But it was clear Frau Clovis was agitated. "There's nothing but silence from the other wards," she said. "I think we're the only ones left." She then pulled out a mobile telecommunications device from her pocket and walked toward the window. "I've been trying to override the quarantine. If I can trip a signal over to New New York, then they can send a private executive squad." But her confidence in her plan was shattered by the Doctor, who immediately snapped "You can't do that. If they force entry, they'll break quarantine." A snarl was on the woman's face as she clutched the device in her hand. "I'm not dying in here!" "We can't let a single particle of disease get out. There is ten million people in that city. They'd all be at risk! Now turn that off!" But she was unwavering. "Not if it gets me out."

            The Doctor couldn't believe it! How could a species so kind, courageous, and brilliant at the same time be so damn selfish? He stood in shock for a moment, gaping in disgust at the woman before saying lowly "Alright fine." He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from shouting at her. "So I have to stop you lot as well. Suits me." Then he turned and gestured to Cassandra. "Persephone, Novice Hame, everyone!" At the sound of his authoritative voice amongst the chaos, all heads turned toward him. The Doctor was already moving, gathering up a thick piece of silk rope from the Duke's cubicle and draping it over his body. "Get me the intravenous solutions for every single disease. Move it!"

           The ward was a whirlwind of action as each patient and visitor went and collected the iv pouches from bedsides and handed them one by one to the Doctor, who, with Cassandra's help, hooked them to the rope until it looked like he was wearing colorful pouch-armor. "How's that? Will that do?" The Doctor was checking each bag, making sure they were fastened properly and would not fall off, which would be catastrophic for his plan. Cassandra, not understanding one iota of what was going on, responded cluelessly. "I don't know. Will it do for what?" But the Time Lord ignored her, partly because it was a rhetorical question, partly because he didn't have time for her whininess, and partly because it pained him to look at his Amarthin knowing it was someone else looking out of her eyes.

            He rushed over to the lift and, seeing that it was out of commission due to the quarantine, wedged his fingers in the gap between the doors and pried them apart. Clutching the wall, he took a step forward and looked down the shaft. He gulped. After his fourth death, he couldn't say he was too fond of heights. But it had to be done if he was going to save his bonded. Oh-- and the city, of course!