Author note: God, the snow at the moment! Pity me, for I am bruised and icy cobbles smell. Also, this chapter? Ha! Because I can. :D


Part Nine: From Under Your Feet

Tiffany always figured herself the type for adventure. That was why she escaped into the fictional world nigh on every night. Saturday evening became a Special Time, and she slowly converted her mother and brother into loving Doctor Who as much as she did.

And Torchwood, of course, though Adrian was too young for that.

Tiffany had always figured herself the type for adventure. That was why it was a such shock for her to discover adventure could be one mean son of a bitch. The fear of certain death actually felt like fear.

Tiffany didn't know if she was making sense. She just procrastinating with thoughts, wiling the time away until her consciousness returned. Felt as if she were trapped in some sort of coma.

Trapped inside herself.

Voices nearby. She craned to listen with a head that couldn't move, with ears that wouldn't respond; a mind that wouldn't focus. And she couldn't make head nor tail of it. Gibberish. Or maybe—

Okay, thought Tiffany. Now aliens. What fun. I'd like for this entire hallucination to be over now, 'kay?

More gibberish. Angry voices. Something jabbed her in the side. A finger? A knife? It felt sharp. Could be a claw, suggested Tiffany's imagination.

Tiffany told her imagination to get stuffed. She was panicked enough as it was, thanks very much.

Ow!

Needle. Definitely a needle of some sort. The prickling sensation stole out from her hip, up and around to encircle her entire chest, then it spread down to her legs and out to the very tips of her fingers.

She would have screamed if she'd known where her mouth was.

The prickling reached a peak. Heavy weight on her forehead. They were putting something on her. Sharp sensation pushing in through her temples, forcing its way into her brain. Tiffany had the strangest feeling of her brain being on fire. Or full of pop rocks. More like pop rocks than fire. Pop rocks on fire?

She blinked.

She blinked?

She could move!

Right, Tiffany thought, first things first.

"Get the fuck away from me you fucking fucking maniacs!" Light and sight filtered slowly through from her dulled eyes. Large shapes loomed over her. "Get away!"

Gibberish, this time sounding confused. A smaller shape came forward and said, "There's no need to swear."

"You— you can talk?"

The shape took focus. And Tiffany shuddered. "Of course we can talk," said the hulk of a monster. "And there really is no need to swear."

"What? Of course there's a need!" Tiffany looked down at her strapped down limbs. "You've ruddy abducted me! Am I meant to take that calmly? Offer you tea and biscuits? Don't come fucking near me you—"

The shape pressed something on the band on Tiffany's forehead, and Tiffany fell back into her trapped, unconscious drifting. The shape turned to its larger companion. "Talk a lot, doesn't she?"

The large shape grunted something about hypocrites, and the smaller squeaked a laugh.

"I'll go tell the captain she's ready," said the smaller.