White Flag Sale
“Hello, Silver Helmet,” the Doctor murmurs from the floor of his cell, one hand covering his blood-smeared mouth, one hand pressed against the stones in the wall behind him.
The guard from earlier, he thinks. He recognizes her slim build, the tone of arrogance hiding in her unsettled carriage.
Two slender hands reach to shift the silver helmet, removing it cleanly.
“So, how many of you are there? Did he give you Dental? It’s really quite important to get good Dental, in the current economical climate. Why I remember when the Brigadier dragged my third body off to the dentist to get my toothache sorted- kicking and screaming, as I recall... next thing I know, my little Amelia saw a particular painting in some gallery somewhere, and here I am!”
Jennifer Lucas, the Flesh from the Factory, stares back at him from the sleek silver lines of the new guard’s uniform. She lifts her leg, planting her booted foot in his face.
“You look like you could do with a rest, Doctor,” she breathes, smiling widely, her long hair tied back in a utilitarian ponytail.
“You’re not well, Jennifer... I could help you,” the Doctor says, spitting some blood and a tooth from a corner of his mouth.
Jennifer grins sweetly, showing her teeth as she crouches beside him.
“Without your TARDIS? I doubt you’re in much of a position to bargain with me. The Valeshard leaves me to my own devices. It’s better for him that way. It could be better for you, if you’d just join us.”
A weak laugh escapes the Doctor, but then he sighs brokenly, perhaps at the twinging of a rib.
“You don’t know what you’re missing! I bet he didn’t give you Dental did he? That naughty boy, I shall have to reprimand him next time we...”
Jennifer falls forward like a skydiver, smushing a finger to his mouth.
“I wouldn’t say such silly things. Especially when I might decide to help you if you’re nice to me.”
“Working with Rory... working with the Valeshard... I thought you were Big Strong Jennifer and didn’t need anybody! But well, my mistake. I looked a gift horse in the mouth, after all.”
The Doctor smiles, pointing to his lip. With a shriek, Jennifer bloodies it again, extracting another tooth with the force of her blow.
“I don’t bargain, dear child,” the Doctor mutters softly, allowing a bit of the shadow to steal across his face, “... I trade.”
Jennifer spills out of her silver suit, her face deforming as her neck pools toward him, like a band of hot taffy.
Then abruptly she pulls back, sinking, her shoulders slumping as she jerks herself back into human form, and settles her hair.
Her fingers melt and fix the wall her copy of Flamina destroyed, moving bits of stone and metal bar back into place here and there.
“Don’t... talk about Rory like he’s some disposable tool. That’s ‘your’ talent,” she breathes, turning her back to him as she walks out, “... You’re the one who moves people like chess pieces. I was watching you, in the Factory. In the dark. You don’t even realize how much anymore, do you? Goodbye for now Doctor. And my offer still stands. Merge with me and I’ll take you to the TARDIS.”
The Doctor sniffs a stream of blood back up from his broken nose, avoiding a nasty scene under the rim of his nostril, and the taste of himself, for the moment.... before he speaks. “I can’t... do that, Jennifer. I’m not Flesh. I’m sorry.”
Jennifer stares at him, cocking her head like an owl, then chortles so hard her hair turns white and sprawls out from her head like a volley of sudden tree limbs. When she is herself once more, she opens her mouth too wide, her fluid jaws uncracking of bone, stretching as her tongue rolls out and smacks his face again, knocking his eyes back and sending him to dreamland.