Author's Note: I'm attempting daily updating again. Wish me luck!
"Prisoner number 83-08-19, case reference P83-08-19." David Hodder read the information into the microphone without looking at the prisoner, hoping that he didn't notice the way his hands shook slightly with nervous excitement. "Interview carried out by Hodder and Gaunt, with Le Dout, O'Callaghan and Moss in observation. Interview commencing at 11.46 on the twenty first of August, nineteen eighty three." He closed the file and handed it to his companion, then leaned forwards in his chair towards their prisoner. "Doctor, I must say first that it is an honour to meet you."
The prisoner, a slimly-built figure with short greying hair parted neatly in a side parting and pale green eyes, looked down at the restraints that bound him to the chair and nodded. "I can see that. I'm not a doctor, though, so maybe the introductions should come first?"
David laughed, trying to ignore the nervous note he could hear and hoping that it was too alien to their prisoner for him to pick up on it. "This is the Torchwood Institute, Doctor. Founded in your honour in eighteen sixty nine by Queen Victoria. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"
He sighed and opened the other folder he had with him. "This is the information we've got from UNIT and from your friend Harkness in Cardiff. Every face you've worn on this planet so far. You see, we know all about regeneration, Doctor. We understand how you can hide yourself in plain sight, and your ship – it's a remarkable machine, isn't it? We'll find our way in, don't worry..." He slid the files towards him. "Or you could make it easier on yourself and help us."
"I'm not..." he growled, but cut off with a surprised noise. "You met The Doctor?"
"Me personally, no." David nudged the file forwards again and the prisoner picked it up. "You know him?"
"He's from the same place as me. I met him once or twice." He gestured to a photo of what they thought was the first face the Doctor had worn on Earth. "When he was younger, but wearing that body. And I heard of his later faces."
"So you're a Timelord like he is?" David breathed, sudden realisation dawning. There was more than one of them! Maybe even an entire planet.
The prisoner glared at him. "No. I am a Timelord, unlike him. Being a Timelord implies an adherence to the code of conduct, and some form of moral compass. And actually passing the exams, not just stealing an antique TARDIS and running off to corrupt the time stream."
Mary moved around behind David. "You don't like him?"
"He is... uncouth," the prisoner said at last. "Charming and funny and disturbingly enthusiastic. But he has no respect for propriety."
"So if you're not the Doctor..." Mary leaned across the table, hands braced on the glass surface. "Who are you?"
"I am the Archivist." He said it solemnly, but David couldn't help the smirk – it was all he could do not to laugh. "Is something funny?"
"It's a..." he fished around for something that wasn't going to come out sounding wrong. "A bit of a mouthful."
"I'm worth it," the prisoner snapped. He shoved the file back towards them and folded his arms. "Now we've established that I'm not the Doctor, can I go?"
The door swung open soundlessly, and David had to admire the boss's sense of timing. He stood framed in the doorway, the sharp lines of his dark suit both matching and contrasting with the clean angles of the white concrete corridor. "I don't think so, Timelord." His hands were tucked into his trouser pockets, flashing the deep red lining. David wondered if the alien knew enough about suits to pick up the message he was sending. "You're an alien," the boss continued, "and it's our job to make sure that you do not pose a threat to this country."
The alien looked to them for help and then back to the doorway. "So kick me out of here, if you don't trust me."
The boss's smile was mocking, but almost sympathetic with it. "Do you really think it's going to work like that?" He nodded at David, who snapped to attention. "Hodder, Gaunt, take him down to cell 106. Let it not be said that our hospitality is lacking."
David didn't meet the prisoner's eyes as he moved around him, uncuffing him from the chair and recuffing his hands behind his back. Mary kept watch over them both, one hand rested conspicuously on her gun as a warning. "I'm sorry," he said quietly when the cuffs clicked shut. "You should have stayed well clear of this place."
The prisoner nodded curtly and held his head up, following David in silence to the first cells level. These cells were above ground, at least, taking up the penultimate floor of the ten-storey warehouse building that disguised the operations of the most important institution in the country. There was no possibility of escape, but the view was good, and the cell was laid out like a comfortable apartment rather than the stark cells of the lower levels. "Celebrity treatment," he joked feebly, unfastening the cuffs with Mary watching over them both, gun out now. "If you need anything, just press the button by the door and someone will get it for you. If it's a bit more complicated, we'll figure out a mid-point or something."
He wilted under the glare the prisoner gave him. "And if I need to get out of here?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Mary answered for him. "Stand in the middle of the room, please."
The prisoner did as she asked and looked away from them, out of the windows and at the London skyline. "And what are you going to do with me now? Will I meet my ignominious end from a gun in the middle of the night? Will it be you who pulls the trigger, lady with the gun?"
Mary's aim didn't waver. "If those are my orders. But I think you're far too valuable to us for that to happen." She slipped her gun into its holster smoothly and rested her hand on the door handle. "Don't make me do it, sir."
She pulled the door shut behind them and activated the alarms. "You went to pieces completely, David. Don't tell me you're a pansy for the alien."
"I have compassion for living creatures," he snapped. She continued to look sceptical and he sagged against the wall. "He's so intelligent. A whole new species as intelligent as us, and we lock him up."
"You're starting to sound like Harkness," Mary told him dismissively. "Keep it up and the boss will send you over there to join him." She leaned against the wall next to him and looked up at the bare lightbulb above them. "There's more than one Timelord."
"Yeah," he breathed. "You think UNIT know?"
"Yep. You think Harkness knows?"
He shrugged. "Must do." He paused and looked sideways at her. "Are you going to draw it to the boss's attention?"
She snorted and pushed away from him. "Hell no. Lunch?"
"Best idea you've ever had." He glanced back at the door as he followed her down the corridor. "Hey, Gaunt?"
She nudged his shoulder when he caught up and smiled sideways at him. "You too, Hodder."