Post by Oldmankrondas on May 4, 2011 13:48:48 GMT
Anna and her father had relocated to the UNIT canteen, got some food and found a quiet spot by the window looking out on the National Library. '...the last thing I remember was swirling lights, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach then I woke up in the middle of a field.'
'You must've been frightened...' Anna replied, jabbing her sausage with a fork, not feeling particularly hungry. Her father didn't seem to be too hungry either, his plate sat before him, untouched.
'Frightened? Your old dad? Never.' George replied, grinning. 'Hell of a confused when those soldiers tried to bring me back here. Think I bloodied one of their noses...' he suddenly had an embarassed look on his face as he glanced around the canteen to make sure neither of the soldiers were there. 'So I get back here and they tell me it's exactly 13 years since some explosion at the facility.'
Anna's eyes widened. '13 years? You mean today's....'
'...your birthday yes. How could you forget your own birthday?'
Anna chuckled nervously. 'I've been away...' she looked up at her father, tears once again forming in her eyes. '...we both have.'
'But I'm back now. And I've missed 13 birthdays so I think it's about time I make up for that. After all, I'm sure my bank account's accrued a sizeable amount of interest....'
Sarah got back into the car and placed her notepad on the passenger seat, feeling a little bit like she wanted to have a shower after her meeting with Mr Templeton. He had been a deeply unpleasant man whose wife had gone to see Bolam's show soon after losing her father, she had called Mr Templeton unsympathetic and hoped Bolam would provide her with some closure. On her return that night she had seemed distracted, and could only talk about Bolam. A couple of days later she had gone back to the theatre and Mr Templeton hadn't seen her since. He asked her family if they had seen her, they'd told him no but he suspected they were lying to protect her. Sarah could hardly blame them, Templeton was a thuggish slob and if Mrs Templeton had found a more exciting life with Andre Bolam then the best of luck to her. After all, Sarah knew exactly what it was like to leave your old life behind and go somewhere brand new and exciting. Deciding she had enough background information, she turned the key in the ignition and set out for her arranged meeting with Andre Bolam.
The Doctor and Brigadier Harchester were sat in Harchester's office, poring over what little information there was on the explosion at the weapons facility George Talbot had been seconded to. There were a number of witness statements to go through but all the names and several of the details had been blacked out.
Corporal James Bennet:Advance Warning Scanners when he was enveloped in this sort of golden light. The scanners were vaporised, the beam generators disappeared too, the whole system became unstable and there was a number of explosions, I couldn't see George any more, I tried to get to him but I was pulled back by Edward.
Edward Masters:scanners were not calibrated and detected George as an enemy. The golden light was therefore the beam backfiring and caused the systems to overload. As far as I was concerned George Talbot was killed instantly, I couldn't lose more lives by allowing Bennet to rescue him.
The Doctor sat back and puffed out his cheeks. 'We're not going to get too far with these files like this. I've got something in the TARDIS that should be able to read everything. The golden light's interesting though....'
Harchester drummed a biro against his chin, opened his mouth to say something when the phone rang. Sighing, he reached over and picked up the receiver. 'Brigadier Harchester.....oh really? Yes, thank you I'll take the call.' He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and leaned over to the Doctor. 'Home Secretary, won't be a minute.'
The Doctor nodded, trying to get a better look at the names and details that had been blacked out. 'Yes, well I hardly think it's something we need to trouble ourselves with. Surely it's more a job for the Met?' Harchester was trying to disguise the tone in his voice. 'Well if that's what the Prime Minister would prefer...yes, absolutely. Goodbye.' Harchester slammed down the receiver and took a few minutes to compose himself.
'Problems?' the Doctor enquired, peering over the top of one of the files.
'Our esteemed Prime Minister thinks UNIT need to be present to handle crowd control at this event in Hyde Park tomorrow. Completely ridiculous, some TV psychic medium has been doing a show in the West End where he's managed to reunite people with deceased relatives. Of course, it's all smoke and mirrors, but tomorrow he's saying he's going to do it all across the World live on TV.'
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and threw the files on the desk, standing to his feet and grabbing his coat. 'Well now that's got to be worth a look.'
'Doctor? I would've thought you'd have no interest in some idiot from the....' Harchester glanced down at the photograph of George Talbot and the penny dropped.
Andre Bolam was sat in his dressing room, nursing a splitting headache, recognisable maroon silk shirt unbuttoned, his suit jacket crumpled on the floor. He wasn't ready for tomorrow, last nights show had almost wiped him out, he rose to his feet and pulled open his desk drawer, producing some ibuprofen. He placed a couple of tablets in his hand and tossed them into his mouth, washing them down with the crystal glass of water by the dressing room mirror.
Someone is coming.... hissed the voice in his head. Another lost soul, looking for someone who's departed.
'I can't, not after last night. I'm exhausted.' Bolam pleaded.
Who are you to deny them your gift Bolam? hissed the voice. It is your purpose on this world to shatter the barrier between the living and the dead. We will increase your strength... the voice was gone, and suddenly Andre felt his headache clear, his mind grow less fuzzy and more clear. There was a knock at the door and Andre answered it to a middle aged woman who stood there, her eyes red from crying. 'Mr Bolam? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have broken in like this but....I need to see my son, and I believe you're the man to help me.'
Bolam placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. 'Come inside Miss Hunter, Graham is waiting for you, and he says, he says the car accident wasn't your fault and he loves you very much.'
'How? How could you know all that?' Miss Hunter stammered, as she entered the dressing room to be confronted by her 16 year old son, dressed in the same checked red and blue shirt he had worn on that fateful day.
'Graham told me Miss Hunter. Go...be with your son.' Bolam encouraged her.
Miss Hunter nodded and stepped gingerly into her sons open arms, at first it was warm and comforting as mother and son embraced but soon that warmth was becoming white hot. Miss Hunter struggled to break free, pleading for help, but Bolam could only watch as the whole room was bathed in a glorious golden light. Once the light, and the Hunters had gone, Bolam staggered back into his armchair and felt the headache coming again. Rest Bolam, you are doing good work here, you are doing very good work....
'You must've been frightened...' Anna replied, jabbing her sausage with a fork, not feeling particularly hungry. Her father didn't seem to be too hungry either, his plate sat before him, untouched.
'Frightened? Your old dad? Never.' George replied, grinning. 'Hell of a confused when those soldiers tried to bring me back here. Think I bloodied one of their noses...' he suddenly had an embarassed look on his face as he glanced around the canteen to make sure neither of the soldiers were there. 'So I get back here and they tell me it's exactly 13 years since some explosion at the facility.'
Anna's eyes widened. '13 years? You mean today's....'
'...your birthday yes. How could you forget your own birthday?'
Anna chuckled nervously. 'I've been away...' she looked up at her father, tears once again forming in her eyes. '...we both have.'
'But I'm back now. And I've missed 13 birthdays so I think it's about time I make up for that. After all, I'm sure my bank account's accrued a sizeable amount of interest....'
*
Sarah got back into the car and placed her notepad on the passenger seat, feeling a little bit like she wanted to have a shower after her meeting with Mr Templeton. He had been a deeply unpleasant man whose wife had gone to see Bolam's show soon after losing her father, she had called Mr Templeton unsympathetic and hoped Bolam would provide her with some closure. On her return that night she had seemed distracted, and could only talk about Bolam. A couple of days later she had gone back to the theatre and Mr Templeton hadn't seen her since. He asked her family if they had seen her, they'd told him no but he suspected they were lying to protect her. Sarah could hardly blame them, Templeton was a thuggish slob and if Mrs Templeton had found a more exciting life with Andre Bolam then the best of luck to her. After all, Sarah knew exactly what it was like to leave your old life behind and go somewhere brand new and exciting. Deciding she had enough background information, she turned the key in the ignition and set out for her arranged meeting with Andre Bolam.
*
The Doctor and Brigadier Harchester were sat in Harchester's office, poring over what little information there was on the explosion at the weapons facility George Talbot had been seconded to. There were a number of witness statements to go through but all the names and several of the details had been blacked out.
Corporal James Bennet:
Edward Masters:
The Doctor sat back and puffed out his cheeks. 'We're not going to get too far with these files like this. I've got something in the TARDIS that should be able to read everything. The golden light's interesting though....'
Harchester drummed a biro against his chin, opened his mouth to say something when the phone rang. Sighing, he reached over and picked up the receiver. 'Brigadier Harchester.....oh really? Yes, thank you I'll take the call.' He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and leaned over to the Doctor. 'Home Secretary, won't be a minute.'
The Doctor nodded, trying to get a better look at the names and details that had been blacked out. 'Yes, well I hardly think it's something we need to trouble ourselves with. Surely it's more a job for the Met?' Harchester was trying to disguise the tone in his voice. 'Well if that's what the Prime Minister would prefer...yes, absolutely. Goodbye.' Harchester slammed down the receiver and took a few minutes to compose himself.
'Problems?' the Doctor enquired, peering over the top of one of the files.
'Our esteemed Prime Minister thinks UNIT need to be present to handle crowd control at this event in Hyde Park tomorrow. Completely ridiculous, some TV psychic medium has been doing a show in the West End where he's managed to reunite people with deceased relatives. Of course, it's all smoke and mirrors, but tomorrow he's saying he's going to do it all across the World live on TV.'
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and threw the files on the desk, standing to his feet and grabbing his coat. 'Well now that's got to be worth a look.'
'Doctor? I would've thought you'd have no interest in some idiot from the....' Harchester glanced down at the photograph of George Talbot and the penny dropped.
*
Andre Bolam was sat in his dressing room, nursing a splitting headache, recognisable maroon silk shirt unbuttoned, his suit jacket crumpled on the floor. He wasn't ready for tomorrow, last nights show had almost wiped him out, he rose to his feet and pulled open his desk drawer, producing some ibuprofen. He placed a couple of tablets in his hand and tossed them into his mouth, washing them down with the crystal glass of water by the dressing room mirror.
Someone is coming.... hissed the voice in his head. Another lost soul, looking for someone who's departed.
'I can't, not after last night. I'm exhausted.' Bolam pleaded.
Who are you to deny them your gift Bolam? hissed the voice. It is your purpose on this world to shatter the barrier between the living and the dead. We will increase your strength... the voice was gone, and suddenly Andre felt his headache clear, his mind grow less fuzzy and more clear. There was a knock at the door and Andre answered it to a middle aged woman who stood there, her eyes red from crying. 'Mr Bolam? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have broken in like this but....I need to see my son, and I believe you're the man to help me.'
Bolam placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. 'Come inside Miss Hunter, Graham is waiting for you, and he says, he says the car accident wasn't your fault and he loves you very much.'
'How? How could you know all that?' Miss Hunter stammered, as she entered the dressing room to be confronted by her 16 year old son, dressed in the same checked red and blue shirt he had worn on that fateful day.
'Graham told me Miss Hunter. Go...be with your son.' Bolam encouraged her.
Miss Hunter nodded and stepped gingerly into her sons open arms, at first it was warm and comforting as mother and son embraced but soon that warmth was becoming white hot. Miss Hunter struggled to break free, pleading for help, but Bolam could only watch as the whole room was bathed in a glorious golden light. Once the light, and the Hunters had gone, Bolam staggered back into his armchair and felt the headache coming again. Rest Bolam, you are doing good work here, you are doing very good work....
