Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It had been a long day.  They were all fairly long, but this one had really been quite notably lengthy.  Mostly because it had been boring; pushing files around his desk, scrolling through documents on his computer, wandering to the staff room to make yet another cup of tea solely for the change of scenery it offered. 

Alec Hardy could work eighteen hour shifts for days on end without so much as yawning when there was a case; something to really get his teeth into, clues to uncover and connect and use to build a narrative, so that another bad guy (or gal, no sexism here) could be removed from the streets.  But when the most interesting thing to have passed over his desk was a smashed window at the dry cleaner’s in town… well, that was enough to cause a yawn.

“I’m off now…” said a face peeking around the door of his office.  “Lucy can’t keep Fred any longer.  You should head home too, you know.  Nothing happening, no reason to stay late.”

Alec raised his eyes and found Miller’s bright and smiling gaze upon him.  How could she possibly be so full of light and energy at 5pm on a Friday evening?  He gave a quiet grunt in response.  And then a nod. 

There was a giggle from the door.  He scowled at the giggle.

“Well… as ever, an absolute delight to converse with you, Hardy.  Don’t work too late.” 

With that she was gone, and he breathed a long sigh of something that was not quite relief, but rather perhaps dissatisfaction.  With himself probably.  Definitely with her.  She never did learn to stop trying to bring smiles into his office, or worse – giggling. 

She was right though.  There was no reason to be here.  He could stew perfectly happily in his own house, with a cup of tea in a different mug, and a comfier chair to sit on.  So, with another sigh, he pushed himself tiredly to his feet and headed for the door, grabbing his coat on the way out. 

He stopped for a moment at the edge of the harbour before walking home, observing the several small groups wandering along the pier, buying fish and chips from the few huts that still operated during the week at this time of year, talking and laughing and generally enjoying themselves.  Deep down something stirred inside him, something that he wouldn’t quite admit might be envy. 

As he turned away, heaving another sigh, because sighing was a little bit like breathing for Alec, he briefly thought that the weather felt unseasonably warm for the time of year.  It was late October, and autumn had definitely been settling in before, but suddenly today it was at least ten degrees warmer.  Probably climate change he suggested to himself, heading towards the road.

He was just about to step off the pavement, when a car came from nowhere, hurtling across the bridge over the river at an entirely inappropriate (and definitely illegal) speed.  Startled, Alec jumped back from the dangerously advancing vehicle and instinctively reached for his pocket to take out his notebook and jot down the registration, although he was momentarily distracted by the type of car he was now watching drive away from him entirely too quickly.  Forcing his brain into gear, he hastily noted the information he needed: NIAT RUC. 

As a general rule, Alec wasn’t interested in cars.  They were useful for getting from A to B efficiently, and obviously they were sometimes key in solving cases, but they held no more passionate fascination for him.  However, this one had caught his eye: sleek and black and probably an antique.  It wasn’t the type of car one saw every day, hurtling through the streets of Broadchurch.

He hummed disapprovingly as he slipped his notebook back into his pocket.  First thing in the morning, he’d run the plate and find out who was getting into trouble for speeding.  That would be something to do!  Then he sighed again, running his hand tiredly over his face.  When had he reached the point where issuing a speeding ticket was something to be excited about?

*

“Crowley!  Slow down!  These roads are narrow, there are pedestrians about, and we don’t know the area!  You almost knocked someone down just after the bridge!”  Aziraphale twisted around in his seat, hoping to check that the dark-coated figure was alright.  “Besides, we’re trying to keep things more sedate for Zee’s sake,” the angel added with a huff, as Crowley turned sharply onto a tiny road that took them away from the harbour and up towards the cliff. 

“I’m fine!” a slightly high-pitched voice called from the back seat, the squeaking tone contradicting the statement entirely.  Zee was clinging to the seat and trying to regulate her breathing.  Although she was used to Crowley’s driving, and trusted her demon completely, the speed of the movement was still a little difficult for her to process at the moment; her brain still healing from the damage inflicted on it by Kilgrave’s manipulations.  Crowley had been driving relatively sedately most of the way down from London, in accordance with her needs, but had become a little over-excited as they’d neared their destination. 

The tightly twisting nature of the road they were now progressing along necessitated a slower pace anyway, and Crowley did comply with Aziraphale’s request.

“We’re almost there,” the demon advised his passengers.  “It’s the cottage right at the end of this lane, closest to the top of the cliff.”

They parked up outside their home for the next week, and climbed out of the Bentley, Zee immediately moving a few paces away to admire what could be seen of the view in the twilight an hour before sunset.  The cottage was around halfway up the hill that climbed steeply up to the cliff’s full height, and it overlooked both the harbour and the further cliffs, the golden ones that the town was so famous for, beyond.  A footpath ran along by the cliff’s edge, between it and the snug spot where the cottage was nestled, and Zee stepped onto it, taking a deep lungful of the fresh, sea air.  After so long cooped up in the bookshop, with only carefully planned, short trips outside, here was freedom, quiet, and the opportunity to get out properly with less likelihood of crowds. 

There was nobody about, so once they’d secured the key, Crowley transferred their luggage into the cottage by miracle.  Aziraphale was already at work warding the building so that nobody but the three of them could enter without the express permission of either himself or Crowley.  The demon added his own magic once Aziraphale had completed his part, and while Crowley was busy, the angel approached Zee.

“Will this suit you, my dear?” he asked, and Zee turned to him with a smile, holding out her hand to take his. 

“Yes.  This is perfect,” she replied, squeezing his hand affectionately, before turning back to the view.  “It’s so… big.  I’d almost forgotten what a proper horizon looks like, so spacious and free.”

“This is the view from the master bedroom too, Zee, so you can wake up to it.”

“Hmm.”  She smiled at her angel.  “I’ll want to be out and about as much as possible though.”

“Of course, love.  Speaking of which… how do you feel about fish and chips on the pier for dinner?”

They shared a grin, and waited for Crowley to emerge from checking over the cottage, before setting off back down the hill, on foot this time.  It was a lovely walk, along the footpath following the cliff as it descended towards the harbour, ending up on a short promenade that took them right to the heart of the little town. 

Other than the cliffs (and the awful murder of a young boy several years previously), Broadchurch was probably most famous for its generous assortment of fish and chip vendors, lining the edges of the harbour in variously hued huts.  Not all of them were open so late in the season, but a selection were, and the trio selected one that Aziraphale insisted had great reviews (not that he’d been researching thoroughly beforehand of course…).  Food purchased, they found a picnic bench overlooking the harbour, lit up with an array of flickering lights reflecting from the water, and settled down to their dinner.  Aziraphale and Zee both had the traditional battered cod and thick-cut, slightly soggy chips, Zee’s northern roots insisting on the addition of mushy peas to the meal.  Crowley allowed himself some chips, alongside a nice, strong coffee to restore him after the long drive.

“Oh, it’s simply delightful here,” Aziraphale declared, glancing over the assortment of boats in the harbour.  “They’re still running boat trips this weekend, so we could head out onto the water if you liked, Zee.”

“Hmm,” Zee agreed through a mouthful of fish, only speaking once she’d finished chewing.  “If it’s quiet enough.  Not an easy place to escape from if I get a bit overwhelmed.”

The angel appeared abashed, and mildly horrified that he hadn’t considered that possibility. 

“Of course, dear,” he hastened to reply.

“We could rent a boat,” Crowley suggested.  “Been a while since I steered a ship, but I’m sure one of these little motorised boats will be straightforward enough.”

“Oh, what a marvellous idea, Crowley!” Aziraphale eagerly endorsed.  “We can take a picnic!”

Zee giggled at the way her angel immediately and unsurprisingly worked food into the plan.

“I like that idea better,” she agreed.

“Excellent,” Crowley grinned.  “I’ll arrange it.”

*

“She seems very relaxed here; much more so than she’s been at all in London,” Aziraphale commented from his comfortable chair in their cottage’s cosy living room.  He was enjoying a hot chocolate and had a book open in his lap.  Crowley observed him with an affectionate smile; you could take the angel out of the bookshop, but some things never changed. 

“It’s quiet.  Far fewer people.  And open.  Less worrying about who might be hiding around the corner.”

“If she likes it here, we could stay longer,” the angel suggested.

“How long can we keep miraculously improving the weather before the place is swarming with journalists and sun-seekers?” Crowley asked, half seriously.  Aziraphale smiled, gazing lovingly at his husband, although vaguely considering that wife may currently be the more appropriate term as his eyes ran over Crowley’s long, cascade of red curls and delicately curved features.

“Quite.  Although a little moody autumn weather might not be so bad.”

“Hmm.”  The demon glanced up at the ceiling.  “Do you think she’s ok up there?”

Zee was in the bedroom, enjoying her own hot chocolate alongside her evening phone call with the Doctor. 

“Given the success of our previous experiments, I’m sure she’s fine.  She wanted desperately to speak with him, and I think the strength of that desire has been extremely helpful in overcoming her fear.  Besides, she’ll have lots to say to him today, with all the change of scenery, and he’s in Cardiff, isn’t he?  I doubt either of them will stop for breath, let alone have time to overthink or panic.”

“That only leaves one more really big step then, doesn’t it?” Crowley responded with a deep sigh.  The remaining hurdle was the most significant one, and one that he was going to have to be brave for, risking frightening her and setting things back, and the pain of being responsible for causing her such fear.  He shuddered at the memory of how terrified she’d been when she’d seen him in the hotel suite in New York.  Obviously, Zee would need to be even more brave than him, but still. 

“Let’s enjoy our holiday first, dear.  Then we’ll have a proper chat about that.”

“You know, angel, if the Doctor is feeling happier, through his conversations with Zee, then we should be better able to spend time together.  He can be part of the conversation, which is only right, and that involvement will probably cheer him up even more.  He’ll feel useful.”

“Yes, the thought had occurred to me.  That will be wonderful, to have him back with us.  I’ve missed having him around, and I know it’s been worse for you.  You’ve found it harder to handle your emotions without his presence, at a time when you really could have used the help.”

Crowley observed his angel intently, still anxious at moments like this, concerned about Aziraphale’s feelings regarding his bond with the Time Lord.  He also knew that the angel was particularly uncomfortable with, although accepting of, the method he and the Doctor had employed to get around the painful reflectivity of their emotions recently.    

“It’s ok, Crowley,” Aziraphale reassured him.  “I understand.”

The demon nodded, and there was silence briefly, both of them thinking.

“I’m scared, angel,” Crowley admitted eventually, voice quiet and slightly hesitant.  “I’m scared of putting myself in front of her.  What if she reacts the same way as before?”

“It’s a risk.”

“I could just stay like this.”  He indicated his current feminine form.  “She’s perfectly fine with this.  But… I can’t do that to him.”    

“She’s a determined woman, Crowley.  I have faith in her.”  Aziraphale smiled fondly.  “And we will do everything we can to make the experience as gentle as possible, supporting her throughout.  Last time, seeing your face was a shock, and her mind was shattered.  She’s rebuilt so much since then and her mind is so much stronger.”

“It’s just so important, angel.  I don’t want to mess it up.”  Crowley growled softly.  “Jack told me… he told me that when it first happened, the Doctor wanted to force a regeneration, to change his face.”

“Yes.  Jack quite rightly pointed out that we’d all be terribly angry with him.  I held him a little tighter the next time I saw him.  He’s been really devastated by this.”

“Which is why we need to proceed with caution and not take any risks,” Crowley said, teeth gritted with determination.  “So that we can all be together again.”

“Come here, Crowley,” Aziraphale invited, and Crowley lifted himself elegantly from the sofa, approaching slowly, and depositing himself equally elegantly onto his husband’s lap.  The angel gathered the demon into his arms and kissed him.  “It will all be ok, I’m sure of it.”

*

“Morning, Sir,” the officer on duty greeted Alec as he entered the police station the next morning.  There was understandably no surprise, despite it being his day off; everyone was very used to him appearing when he wasn’t supposed to be there, and for the sake of a quiet life, it was a long time since anybody had challenged him over it. 

Alec merely hummed in response, and continued up to the office in his usual sullen silence.  A junior officer was sat at their desk, and he passed them the registration from the car.  No instruction was provided; they’d recognise what it was and know what to do without the need for any additional guidance, so Alec left them to it while he proceeded to the staff room to make himself a cup of tea. 

He was disappointed on his return.

“Not registered, Sir.”

“What?”

“No entry on the database at all for that license plate.”

“How can there be…?” he responded exasperatedly.  “Move outta the way, let me look at that.”  He gestured to them to give up their chair, although he didn’t sit himself, merely bending over the desk, pushing his glasses back onto his nose, and checking the details again himself.  They were entered correctly.  He pressed the search button again.  Nothing.  “Hmm.  System must be on the blink again,” he declared.

“I’ve used it already this morning, Sir.  It’s fully operational.”

“But…”

“Perhaps the vehicle simply isn’t registered, Sir.”

“Hmm.”  Alec was annoyed for a moment, glaring at the junior officer (whose name he couldn’t for the life of him recall), for interrupting, and then brightened slightly.  “Well, I suppose if they don’t have the correct documentation, that’s only going to add to my list of questions.”

“Why are you looking for this vehicle, Sir?”

“Nearly knocked me down just by the bridge last night.  Speeding.”

The officer appeared surprised.

“Sir… with all due respect… “  Hardy glared at them again, but they swallowed and recklessly continued regardless.  “Isn’t a speeding offence just a little beneath your pay grade?”

He blinked at them, taken aback.  Then he rolled his eyes.

“It’s something to do.  I spend my life investigating petty thefts and vandalism.  Besides, they nearly caused serious injury by dangerous driving.  To a police officer.”  He straightened and sipped his tea.

“Can I assist you with anything else, Sir?”

“CCTV.  Any signs of a dark grey to black car, probably 1920s, maybe 30s.  Should be distinctive enough.  You’ll find it around the harbour, just after five pm last night.  See where it came from and where it went.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Right.”  With one last sip of his tea, he abandoned the half empty mug on the officer’s desk and left the office.  It was his day off, and he was going for a walk.

*

“This is glorious,” Zee sighed, gazing up at the endless blue of the sky and listening to the rhythm of the waves lapping at the boat.  Her head was pillowed in Aziraphale’s lap, his hand was stroking through her hair, and Crowley was steering their vessel, not too far away from the coast, beneath the towering presence of the town’s famous cliffs.

“There is something rather freeing about being out on the water,” the angel agreed.  “We could be miles from anywhere, it’s so peaceful.” 

“A world away from New York or London,” Zee mused.  She tilted her head, gazing up at her angel.  “I feel very relaxed, Aziraphale.  Not scared at all.” 

The pair shared a smile, and Crowley watched them affectionately, recalling his conversation with Aziraphale the previous night.  She really was doing well, he thought.  Perhaps his angel was right, and everything was going to be ok, sooner rather than later. 

“I was looking at our dinner options,” Zee continued, finding Aziraphale’s hand and interlacing their fingers.  “The old railway station is now a lovely restaurant, and they apparently do fabulous lamb, that I know you will love.  We could try it tonight.  It’s quite small, so shouldn’t be too much trouble, so long as I can sit in the corner and have a good view of everyone.”

“That sounds wonderful, dear.”  He paused for a moment as he miracled a reservation.  “I look forward to it.”  He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed her.  “Ooh, the thought is making me hungry already.”

Crowley toed the picnic basket beneath his feet closer to them.

“You packed enough food to feed a small army, angel.  No need to go hungry.”

Zee giggled, and lifted herself from Aziraphale’s lap, moving to the bow of the little boat and gazing across the water that was sparkling in the bright sunshine.  This left the angel free to begin unpacking some of the delicious treats that he’d prepared; thick doorstep sandwiches with cheese and pickle or egg and cress, little individual pork pies, fancy crisps in a sea salt and balsamic vinegar flavour, and delicious lemon cupcakes for afterwards.  There was also a flask of tea, and bottles of apple juice.  It was, as Crowley suggested, quite the little feast. 

*

Alec had decided to take the clifftop path over the west cliffs today, heading over towards the tiny cluster of buildings at the next beach, where a small river flowed out into the sea and there was a little caravan park where he could get a cup of tea.  It was usually quieter this way, and it avoided the areas along the east cliffs which were too strongly associated with the Latimer case to provide a relaxing stroll. 

After a brisk walk along the promenade, he began to climb the hill, alongside the houses that had such beautiful views over the harbour.  His own house was further back, also part way up the hill but backing onto the fields of a nearby farm, and partially overlooking the touring area of the town’s main holiday park.  He could just about glimpse the sea from the bedroom upstairs, but the supposedly lucky sods who had these houses (which cost a good deal more for the privilege), had uninterrupted views over the water.  He preferred not to have that.  He didn’t like the water.

He would never admit it, but Alec did actually like living in Broadchurch.  Despite his better health these days, the presence of the little pacemaker keeping his heart ticking away nicely made it impossible for him to hope for a return to a busier station or higher responsibility.  But to his private horror, he also felt settled here, a terrifying feeling of contentment coming over him occasionally, although he really did his best to fight it. 

He made frequent and noisy protests against the boredom of being Detective Inspector in a small town, where for the most part he had little more exciting to deal with than Mrs Forbes’ regular complaints about teenagers tossing cigarette butts over her garden fence and damaging her petunias, or the occasional theft of a bucket and spade from the shop by the beach.  And he meant them, the protests.  But he also found something disgustingly satisfying in keeping some kind of order over things; a state that wasn’t possible in larger, more complex environments. 

He hated the fact that the boredom was acceptable to him.

Alec was musing on these things as he climbed the hill, until his attention was taken by something far more interesting.  He’d reached the uppermost of the houses on the cliff’s edge, a holiday rental owned by the landlord and landlady of the pub overlooking the beach.  And parked outside it, glistening in the unseasonable sunshine, was the distinctive antique car from last night. 

“Oh,” he said out loud.  Police work, even in Broadchurch, was rarely this straightforward. 

Instinctively reaching into his coat pocket to needlessly check he had his badge with him (of course it was there, it was always there), he approached the cottage, the excitement of being on the trail of a criminal (which was probably slightly overdoing it, but still… there was at least mystery, given that the car wasn’t properly registered), coursing through his veins. 

As he stepped through the gate into the garden though, he suddenly felt an almost overwhelming urge to leave.  If he hadn’t been absolutely against the idea of such things, he’d have declared it a supernatural urge, but that was for less logical folk than him.  Still, every bone in his body wanted to be anywhere else but this garden.  It took great effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other and make it as far as the front door.  He managed it though.  It would take more than a definitely-not-supernatural urge to deter Alec Hardy from administering the letter of the law.

He knocked sharply on the door.  It was the knock of a policeman, and he was good at it. 

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer. 

Turning around, he looked out over the sea, briefly observing a little boat bobbing on the almost-millpond water.

“They’ll be out enjoying the sunshine,” he mused sadly, before having a quick look through some of the windows on the ground floor and spotting nothing suspicious.  He sighed on noticing a copy of ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’ on a table by the chair next to the window.  Perhaps that was suspicious actually; reading Thomas Hardy by choice.  Not actually a criminal offence though, sadly.

Miller had once quipped that Thomas was the only Hardy more depressing than him, and having studied ‘Jude the Obscure’ at college, Alec could appreciate that Miller wasn’t wrong.  Although he strongly felt that she didn’t need to point it out with such a stupid smile on her face.

Finally giving in to the continuing urge to leave, Alec continued his walk, delighted (or as close to it as he was capable of), to have tracked down the car, but annoyed by being unable to do anything about it. 

*

“Can you feel that, angel?” Crowley asked, suddenly alert, his protective instincts springing into action.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied, concern in his tone.  They shared a glance.  Both could feel that their wards were being tested.  Nobody had entered the cottage (that was impossible), but somebody was in the garden, and furthermore resisting the urge to leave that would be relentlessly pushing them out.  “Could just be the landlady checking that we’re ok?” the angel speculated.

“Hmm.  I don’t like it.  Why haven’t they just left immediately?  They’ll want to.”

“Humans can be very stubborn,” Aziraphale suggested.

“Should I be worried?” asked Zee quietly from her position in the bow, her voice trembling slightly.  She’d been feeling so relaxed.  Perhaps this was a reminder that she ought not to.

“No!” exclaimed her angel.  “Not at all, love.  As I said, it’s probably just the landlady, or somebody delivering leaflets possibly.  They’ve tripped the alarm on our wards by entering the garden, and haven’t immediately left, which demonstrates some strength of mind on their part.  Nothing to worry about.”  He glanced at Crowley warningly.  They should not make a big deal out of the occurrence, so that Zee could continue to enjoy her holiday. 

The demon looked up to the cliff, where their cottage could easily be seen as the top one of the line perching on the edge. 

“They’re leaving anyway,” he muttered, feeling the change. 

As he continued watching, a figure could just be made out moving away from the building and further along the cliff.  He could tell nothing about them from this distance, other than that they were wearing dark clothes. 

“See, everything is fine,” Aziraphale reiterated brightly.  “Do have another sandwich, dear,” he continued, passing the little box of cheese and pickle across to Zee.  She took one, smiling at her angel, but feeling like there was just the smallest, light grey cloud, emerging on the horizon.  The new tension in her partners transmitted to her, and she wasn’t so relaxed as before. 

Crowley was still observing the progress of the dark figure along the clifftop path.  There was something preventing him from looking away, a faint draw, vague recognition.  It was stupid because he could barely confirm that the individual was human, other than that being the only realistic option, let alone see any distinguishing features.  He had the strangest feeling though, like he already knew the person.  It was quite a specific feeling that he’d felt before, but at present he couldn’t quite place it.     

Aziraphale gazed with concern at his husband.  He knew from long experience that the demon’s instincts were to be trusted, and Crowley was clearly unsettled by the too-lengthy presence of the person in the cottage’s garden.  Despite his bright words and fixed smile, the angel caught the idea that something wasn’t quite right.  They’d have to strengthen the wards. 

Chapter Text

The restaurant in the old railway station was as lovely as Zee had suggested, and the long, narrow building was perfectly designed to ensure she’d feel as comfortable as possible during their meal.  Since it was Saturday evening, and the place was popular, it was reasonably busy, but a small miracle to keep the volume of the other diners low solved that. 

They were able to secure a table at the furthest end of the room, Zee taking the corner so she could observe everyone.  Crowley sat beside her; he’d always preferred to have a good view too, a habit that was thankfully now a hangover from his time working for the often unpredictable bureaucracy in Hell, when an unscheduled visit from a fellow demon, instructed to pull one down for interrogation, or worse, was always a possibility.  Aziraphale faced them, saddened by this evidence of the traumas his partners had faced.    

Wine was brought (with water for Zee), and they ordered their food from the mouth-watering menu.

“What a lovely recommendation, dearest,” Aziraphale said, giving Zee an affectionate smile.  “It’s a rather charming little place, and reminds me of the many decades I spent traversing the rail network.  I whiled away many an hour in little country stations waiting for a local service to whisk me home.  It’s such a shame so many of these things are gone now, but wonderful to see some of the buildings put to such good use.”

Zee returned her angel’s smile.  It was satisfying to hear him reminiscing happily; over the past weeks, they’d all been subdued, with good reason of course, and she’d missed the way he could talk endlessly about his travels while in active employment.

“Did you ever make it down here?” she asked.

“You know, I don’t think I did.”

“I did,” Crowley interjected, and the both turned to the demon curiously.  A smile curved the ruby red lips.  “It was an Arrangement visit, as I recall, so you very nearly did get here, angel.”

“Oh.  What was it for?” Aziraphale enquired.

“1887.  Sarah Radcliffe, a fisherman’s widow left alone after her husband drowned at sea, already with two tiny mouths of her own to feed, had taken in an orphan she found abandoned in a hedgerow.  She often went hungry, barely able to earn enough to feed the three youngsters, selling baskets and lobster pots she wove herself.  But still she attended the little chapel every Sunday, staunch in her belief in the goodness of God.  A blessing conferred from your bosses up in Heaven, angel.  I made it extra strong.  She was an extraordinary woman.”

“What happened to her?” Zee questioned, her hand caressing Crowley’s thigh.  She loved to hear of her demon doing so much good.  He smiled at her.

“A mysterious aunt she didn’t even know existed…”

“Because she didn’t exist?”

“Yes, Zee, because she didn’t exist,” Crowley laughed.  “Anyway, a mysterious aunt died, and left her an unexpected windfall.  Enough to secure her future if she was careful.”

“And?” Aziraphale pushed, eyebrow raised.

“And, angel, she met a wonderful young man, George Whittaker, an employee at the local brewery, who loved her dearly, and was willing to take on four for the price of one.  They lived happily ever after.”

Both Crowley’s partners gazed at him with fondness, and he rolled his eyes.  “I was supposed to tempt the young man into untold debaucheries, thus derailing his promising career into management at the brewery and the position of organist at the parish church, but I accidentally had him fall in love with the pious young woman instead.  My report said he’d entered into a scandalous sexual relationship with a loose woman who already had children with two different fathers.  Not technically untrue, although I did push the technicality to the limit.  And in my defence, I’m fairly certain they did have sex before they were legally married.”

The others were laughing now, enjoying the tangled web of Crowley’s efforts to technically do his job, while actively attempting to do the right things. 

Then their food arrived, and they settled down to enjoy it.  What a wonderful feeling it was, they all thought, to be out together again, enjoying the culinary delights of dinner in a restaurant.

*

Ellie Miller was nervous, and she got giggly when she was nervous.  She’d made a few attempts at dating since her divorce had been finalised, none very successful, or even at all successful if she was honest, and this latest venture was going to be different, she’d decided. 

Committing to the idea of it being different (and positively so, preferably), she’d not allowed Lucy to do her hair for her or apply make-up.  She looked ridiculous in make-up, and her hair misbehaved so much when effort was made to style it, that it always looked worse.  So, she was as she usually was.  If the world at large could see her like this on a normal working day, then her date could see her like this while they ate dinner together.  If nothing else, she’d feel more like herself, and that might make conversation easier.

Her date tonight was Gareth, a motorbike mechanic based somewhere out along the road to Lyme Regis.  Divorced, one teenage son who lived with his mother in Yeovil now, own house attached to the business.  He was a few years older than her, but had his own hair and his own teeth, and as a divorced mother of two in her early forties, what more could she ask?

“Hello,” she managed to utter, fighting back a giggle, as she greeted the man who she recognised from his photo on the app. 

“Ellie!  It’s good to meet you.  You look lovely.”  Gareth leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.  He was a big guy, bigger than she’d realised from his photo.  She’d noted the muscles, but he was tall too.  The physique made her tummy do a little backflip.  This was already better than at least half her dates. 

“Hi, yes.  You too,” she rejoined, voice quivering embarrassingly.  That needed to stop. 

They made their way inside and were shown to a lovely table towards the back of the room.  The Old Railway Station was busy, as she’d known it would be, because it was one of the most popular restaurants in town, and small, so difficult to secure a reservation.  She’d been impressed that Gareth had managed it.

“Well, this is nice,” she commented, once the waitress had left them alone. 

“You live round here; have you not been before?” Gareth enquired, surprised.

“Not for a while.  They’ve done it up.  Years ago, this used to be the place for a nice cuppa and cake after a walk on the cliffs, or a decent homemade pie or lasagne in the evening.  It’s posh now!”

Gareth laughed.

“I’m glad you’re impressed.”

“Oh yes!”  Ellie glanced around, taking in the fancier décor.  Her detective’s instincts immediately noticed a slightly odd trio at the next table.  A tall, slim woman with long, bright red hair, was sat closest to her, the hair descending in long curls right down the woman’s back.  Ellie found it impossible to assess her age.  She was dressed entirely in black, and was wearing sunglasses.  Inside. 

Next to her was another woman, who Ellie could barely see, since the red-haired woman was sat between them.  She could just make out light brown curls, pulled back into a ponytail.  And a chunky, grey cardigan covering her up. 

Opposite, was a man, probably in his fifties, with almost shockingly blond hair, more platinum really, almost white.  He was wearing a cream jacket over a shirt, with tan waistcoat and a tartan bow tie.  The outfit would have looked at home in any of the past two hundred years, and was a strange contrast to the other two figures. 

Ellie could not fathom the relationship between the three of them at all.  She could, however, hear some of their conversation, which she definitely wasn’t listening to, because she was entirely focused on her date. 

Gareth was telling her about how he started his business.  As he described the problems of establishing a client base, and the importance of his position alongside a main road popular with motorcyclists on day trips to the seaside, she attempted to maintain her concentration.

“Word of mouth, that’s what you rely on with these things.  And once someone uses you, and tells their mates at the local pub, you’re sorted.  That’s the only kind of advertising…”

Her focus wavered.

“They’re in Cardiff,” the brunette woman was saying.  “Jack’s visiting his friends at Torchwood, and the Doctor has started going with him sometimes now.  He can help with some of the tech stuff.  I think Jack really loves getting him involved with things.”

“Does he see Ianto?” the red-head enquired, with mischief in her tone.

“Oh, yeah.”  The brunette giggled.  “Ianto and the Doctor have come to terms with each other.”

“The jilted ex,” the red-head commented theatrically.

Ooh… this sounded juicy.  Weird name though, the Doctor.  Ianto sounded Welsh, which made sense – the woman had mentioned Cardiff as the location for these intriguing goings on. 

“But enough about me, what about you?” 

Oh.  That was Gareth.  Shit.

“Um… well, you know I can’t really talk about work.  All secret stuff.  You carry on though.  Your business sounds fascinating.”

“Well, there is a really good story about how I came to be the preferred mechanic for the Vintage Sidecar Preservation Society.”

“Ooh, yeah… tell me about that!”

She grinned at the man, turning her ears back to the next table.

“How long are they staying in Cardiff?” the blonde man asked.

“Oh,” the brunette woman replied, “probably just a couple of days.  He’s got a special date planned.  It’s six months since Paris, so he’s taking Jack to this really remote cabin in the middle of a forest on… Yodromia I think it’s called, so they can have some proper alone time.  Apparently, all the trees there have deep red leaves, so it’s like perpetual autumn, and there are two suns creating the most beautiful patterns of light, although I’m not sure he’s planning for them to leave the bedroom the entire time to be honest.”

“I would expect nothing else,” the red-head laughed.

Ellie felt her cheeks flushing.  They were clearly talking about a gay couple, friends of theirs presumably, and very casually discussing the apparently very active sex life of the pair.  Wow.  She fixed her eyes on her own companion, looking at him more closely.  Hmm… She wouldn’t mind spending a few days in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with him, which probably meant she should pay more attention to him, to enhance the likelihood of such a scenario. 

Concentrating hard, she resumed her focus on the enthralling story of the… whatever it was to do with sidecars.  The only thing she knew about those was Wallace and Gromit.  She wasn’t really cut out for this, was she?

*

Sunday shifts were a boring but apparently necessary evil.  Outside of big cases, Alec typically did one per month, and hated every appalling second of it.  There would usually be a couple of minor reports of antisocial behaviour from the previous night, or the need for a DI to become involved in some drama that had occurred overnight, if it looked like escalating into something bigger.  Frustrating, nonsense stuff, simply because people couldn’t handle their drink. 

On this Sunday morning, he was sat at his desk, tepid mug of tea in his hands, staring at the screen in front of him.  He was considering taking another walk up the cliff to see if the mysterious owner of the antique car was in, because that was actually beginning to have the appearance of an interesting case. 

The junior officer had turned up a complete absence of CCTV footage.  The distinctive car somehow hadn’t been spotted at all.  He’d have been inclined to put this down to the ineptitude of the officer, but they’d seen fit to provide evidence that suggested they’d been very thorough. 

Since it was a busy public place and close to the police station, the area around the harbour bridge was covered by a couple of cameras, and here the mystery really began to thicken.  On one of the cameras, just after 5pm on Friday, Alec could see himself walking along, almost stepping into the road, and then drawing back suddenly, wobbling slightly on his feet.  He appeared drunk; an appearance that was only enhanced by the complete absence of vehicle in the footage.  The car that had almost knocked him down was simply not there.

How could the car not be there?

He’d seen it with his own eyes.  And he’d seen it again yesterday, parked outside the cottage. 

He’d seen, on two separate occasions, a car that apparently did not exist. 

“Morning!”

Alec shuddered at the sudden and inappropriate cheeriness.  Looking up, he spotted Miller grinning in the doorway, Fred stood next to her, holding her hand tightly in one of his own little pudgy ones, a carton of juice clutched just as tightly in the other. 

“What’re you doing here?” Alec enquired.

“I’m here to solve a mystery,” she announced with a touch of drama.  Like she was Agatha bloody Christie.  Alec blinked at her, staring confusedly. 

“What?”

“I was out on a date last night.”  She paused, clearly anticipating some sort of response to that.  Alec continued to stare at her.  “With a man,” she added.

“You can’t use police databases to stalk your date, Miller.”

She rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly.

“Well, the date isn’t actually terrifically relevant, although it went very well, thanks for asking.  But it was while on the date that I discovered the mystery.”

“Can you please approach the point, Miller?” Alec requested, rubbing his fingers over his tired eyes.

Another sigh, and Miller entered the office more fully, sending Fred off to the sofa.  She perched on Alec’s desk.

“There were three strangers at the next table, odd-looking trio.  But it was their conversation that really struck me.  Just some odd things they were saying, places they were mentioning that didn’t sound quite right, red leaves on trees, two suns.  Intrigued me, they did.”

“Point, Miller,” Alec repeated, rapidly running out of what little patience he’d started with.

“Well, I looked them up.  The places they’d mentioned.  And here’s the thing – they don’t exist.”

Alec was not in the mood for more things that didn’t exist. 

Miller appeared disappointed by his lack of response.

“Come on, Hardy!  They don’t exist.”  He kept his face hidden in his hands.  She sighed.  “Right, well I’m going to have a check on our databases.  I’ve got a feeling, like there’s something going on here.  Instinct.”

“Well good luck with your endeavours,” Alec offered sarcastically.

“You heard of Yodromia?  That’s the place with the ‘two suns’.  That must be code, right?  Or Torchwood?  That’s in Cardiff, some sort of organisation or business?”

“I am not interested, Miller.”

She grunted, annoyed, and stood up from his desk.  Thank god, she was going. 

“They left around the same time we did.  Me and Gareth, my date.  They had a gorgeous car; all sleek, vintage curves.  A Bentley, from the 1920s or something.  Very unusual…”

“What?!”  Alec was suddenly very interested.  He stared at her, his brown eyes wide and alert now, hands dropped back down onto his desk.  “What colour was the car, Miller?”

“Ooooh, now you’re interested.  Boys and their toys.  Never noticed you interested in cars before…”

“Miller!”

“Black.”

“Registration?”

She giggled. 

“Oh, that was fun – it was curtain backwards.  Easy to remember when I couldn’t jot it down.”

“Fuck.”

*

It was late, and the sun was streaming through the window.  Zee stirred in Crowley’s arms, consciousness creeping over her as the aroma of breakfast cooking made its way to her nostrils.  She hummed happily. 

Last night had been lovely.  Dinner had proceeded without a hitch, and afterwards they’d returned to the cottage and enjoyed a nightcap of hot chocolate before bed, Zee taking the opportunity to have her daily phone call with the Doctor.  Later, she’d been snuggled between her partners, the two bodies warm at either side of her.  At some point, Aziraphale had left, presumably to read downstairs, while Crowley had kept her in his arms all night. 

And the angel, it appeared, was now preparing a feast for breakfast.

She turned and gazed at her demon, stroking a hand through the long red curls and gently kissing along the soft skin of his jaw.  He was so beautiful like this.  Although she hoped that he’d soon be able to return, at least some of the time, to his more usual male form, she had developed a real fondness for this body too.  She also wasn’t sure how she would feel about becoming intimate with the other, so he’d probably need to revert to this one if they wanted to have sex.  As she nuzzled beneath Crowley’s ear, she let out a little sigh; there was still a long way to go, however much progress she had made.

“Sweetheart…” Crowley murmured, slowly waking up to the feel of Zee’s mouth on his neck.  She hummed against his skin in response.  “Feels nice…”

Zee lowered her hand between their bodies and inside Crowley’s pyjamas, sliding her fingers between his legs and beginning to gently caress.  The demon uttered a low moan, tightening the hold of his arms around Zee’s body.

Then there was a little knock on the door, softly.  Since New York, they had all been much more careful about knocking before entering a room, not wanting to startle Zee, although on this occasion, the knock proved more of a frustration than a warning.  Zee lifted her head from Crowley’s neck and smiled at the barely concealed irritation on his face.  She stilled her hand, although didn’t remove it from its current position. 

“Good morning, Aziraphale,” the demon called, not entirely hiding the complaint in his tone either.

The door opened, and their angel peered around it.

“Good morning, my loves.  I’m just preparing breakfast, if you’re ready.”

“I’ve never been more ready in my life, angel.”

Zee giggled, and Aziraphale’s face took on an expression of baffled astonishment, followed rapidly by wide-eyed comprehension as he took in their position. 

“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, angel.”  Crowley convinced nobody.

“Oh dear.”

“How long will breakfast be?” Zee enquired.

“Long enough?” suggested the angel.  Zee cocked her head thoughtfully, considering her options. 

“Give me five minutes to see to Crowley and five minutes to shower,” she requested.

“Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes, dearest,” Aziraphale smirked.  “Do have fun.”  He backed out and closed the door.

“Where were we?” Zee whispered close to her demon’s ear, resuming the movement of her hand. 

Crowley groaned.   

*

“Yodromia?”

“Yeah.”

Miller was now leaning over Alec’s desk, watching as he slowly typed what seemed to be the likely spelling and searched all databases.

“Nothing,” he sighed.

They tried a couple of variations on the spelling, but their searches continued fruitless. 

“What was the other one?”

“Torchwood.”

He tried that.

That produced a result.  Not necessarily the most helpful result, but an intriguing one nevertheless.  In bright red letters, covering the full width of the screen, were the words ‘TOP SECRET’. 

“Oh.  Well, at least it exists,” Miller mused.

“How entirely annoying,” Alec added.

“Proves my instinct was right; this is something interesting…”

“Yes… but what do we actually know?  They have a car that isn’t registered and doesn’t show up on CCTV, although both of us have seen it.  They have friends involved in a top secret organisation that’s apparently based in Cardiff, of all places.  And they were discussing a place that apparently exists about as much as the bloody car.”

“A place that has red-leaved trees and two suns, which sounds remarkably like…

“Don’t say it, Miller!”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like Earth, does it?”

“Fucksake, Miller,” Alec groaned, exasperated.  He glared at her.  “What are you even suggesting, anyway?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged.  “Aliens?”  He snorted derisively at that suggestion.  “Do you have a better explanation?”  He rolled his eyes.  “You know where they’re staying though…”

“Yeah.  It’s probably time to pay our new neighbours another visit.”  He stood up and marched towards the coat rack.  Halfway there, he noticed Fred.  He stopped in his tracks and stared at the child.  “Oh.  What about…?”

“He can come with us.  It’s another lovely day, be nice to stretch our legs.”

*

Zee was sat on a bench by the door, lacing up her trainers.

“At least humour me,” she protested.

“Fossil hunting?  Really?” Crowley questioned, sounding tired of an old argument.

“The whole coast along here is a palaeontologist’s dream!” she insisted.  “Fossils everywhere along the beaches.”

“Zee, I had friends who created those things,” Aziraphale pointed out.  “They showed me their designs.”

“And very good ‘designs’ they are too, Aziraphale.”  She sighed.  “Regardless of how they came about, designed and placed by angels, or the result of natural science, they are pretty.  So, we can hunt some out!”

“It’s like the Natural History Museum all over again,” Crowley whined, making Zee giggle.

“You can make sandcastles instead, if you like.  But I’m going to find some fossils.”

Finally ready, she jumped up, grabbed her jacket, and headed out of the door. 

“At least she’s found something to be enthusiastic about,” Aziraphale said. 

“Didn’t have to be bloody fossils though, did it.”

With a sympathetic smile, Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s arm and kissed his cheek.  They followed their partner, who had already made it to the garden gate and was breathing in the sea air as she waited for them. 

They set off along the cliffs, heading west to the next bay.  Zee was keen to get to the next set of cliffs beyond it, where the fossil hunting was apparently particularly good, and she was walking along ahead of her partners, a confidence in her steps that they hadn’t seen for weeks.  They shared a smile, delighted to see her so content and so absolutely herself. 

“She really is remarkable, isn’t she?” Aziraphale mused, linking his arm through Crowley’s and squeezing it lightly.  “I’m a little in awe of her.”

“When we first got back to London, I couldn’t imagine how we’d ever get to this point,” Crowley responded.  “She was so broken, so scared, so not Zee.”

“She’s continuing to seek out intimacy?” the angel asked.  Crowley nodded.

“Still in one direction, but yeah.  I have to keep my hands to the safe places, shoulders and back mostly, but she’s seeming to enjoy exploring, and we kiss.”

“No signs that she wants to receive pleasure?” 

The demon shook his head.

“No.  I think she enjoys knowing that she can still do this stuff, but she’s definitely not ready to be touched.  It’s such a big part of who she is though, her sexuality, so I suppose recovering it is a really big part of recovering herself more generally.  It’s just… a process.”

“And she can own the giving, whereas she has to let go to receive.”

“Exactly.”

Aziraphale sighed. 

“She had dinner out in a restaurant full of strangers last night.  Even a week ago I wouldn’t have thought she’d do that.”  He smiled.  “Every day she surprises me.”

“Hmm.  I could do without the fossil hunting though,” Crowley smirked, and they both giggled. 

“She’s spent too much time with the Doctor for us to ever win that argument, my dear.”

*

“And you’re certain, that the car was what caused you to wobble back from the road?  You’re absolutely sure you weren’t a little tipsy?”

“You left five minutes before me!” Alec exclaimed.  “At what point do you imagine I had the opportunity to become inebriated?”

She shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.  “It was the car, Miller.  I would swear it on oath in a court of law.”

“Ok.  We do need to explore all the possibilities, DI Hardy.”  She smirked.  Alec scowled at her. 

They were walking along the footpath up onto the cliff, heading for the cottage where he had seen the car parked the previous day.  Despite Alec’s protests, they’d paused at one of the huts on the harbourside to buy an ice cream for Fred.  He was licking it as they strolled along, leaving a soggy vanilla-flavoured trail on the path behind them. 

“See, look!” Alec cried, pointing a little further up the hill.  “There it is!”  Miller’s gaze followed the direction he was pointing in.

“Yep.  That’s definitely the car I saw last night.”

They approached the cottage.

“Miller, you’re not technically on duty, so I should do the knocking.  You loop around the back and make sure they don’t get out that way.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied with a grin.  She was enjoying herself far too much. 

“Shut up and get in position.”

Only once she’d disappeared from view did Alec take a deep breath and push open the little gate, preparing himself for the definitely-not-supernatural feeling of unease he’d experienced yesterday (a detail that he had neglected to mention to his colleague, because it was a little too weird).  He stepped forward.

And then he suddenly remembered that he had a vitally important phone call to make back at the office.  The kind of phone call that absolutely could not wait.  Extremely time sensitive.  Urgent, in fact.

“Fuck!” 

Turning around, he began to walk quickly down the hill.

*

Since the cottage fronted the cliff edge, the back yard was smaller than the front.  There was a neat lawn, and a little wooden structure hiding the bins, but very little else.  Ellie watched the back door for a couple of minutes, listening for the sound of Alec knocking on the front. 

Nothing.

Then, Alec exclaiming a word she hoped Fred didn’t pick up on. 

“Ooh, Uncle Alec isn’t happy about something,” she said, smiling down at her son, who was wearing most of his ice cream by this point.  “Shall we go and check on him?”

She moved back around the side of the cottage, ready to berate Alec for being characteristically dramatic about some very minor inconvenience.  He was nowhere to be seen in the front garden.  There was however, a dark figure walking quickly along the path back into town. 

“Oi!” she yelled.  “Hardy!”

He spun around, continuing to back down the path.

“Sorry, Miller!  Very urgent call to make!  Can’t stop!”

“What?!”

He turned around again, hurrying away.  Ellie stared after him in bewilderment.

“It doesn’t matter how long I work with him, I will never work him out.”

She looked at the cottage.  Then she glanced down at Fred.  And back to the cottage.  Seeming to come to a decision, she approached the gate.  She had her badge if that became necessary, but it couldn’t hurt to have a little chat.  Investigate.  Gently. 

She could just be a local woman out with her kid, who’d forgotten to bring some tissues to clean his face and hands, and wondered if she could borrow some.  In all honesty, that was almost exactly what she was.

Pushing open the gate, she attempted to step through into the garden. 

And then she looked down at Fred in horror.

“Oh… fudge!  We’re so late, Fred!  You have that playdate with your friend, Amy.  Shhhh…ugar.”

Turning quickly, she began jogging down the hill, pulling Fred along beside her.  He was giggling at the sudden speed, enjoying the game. 

Chapter Text

Alec was sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, staring into space. 

He’d been at the cottage, about to go and knock on the door.  That was definitely the most important thing to be doing at that moment.  And then… out of nowhere, he’d had some crazy desire to run back here and make a phone call.  That apparently was the most important thing, like the world would end if he didn’t do it. 

Once he’d arrived here, the urge had disappeared.  He’d forgotten all about the supposedly crucial phone call, unable to even recollect what it might have been about. 

After several minutes of confusion, trying to straighten the scenario in his mind, he’d called Miller sheepishly.

“Where the hell did you get to?” she’d greeted him when she answered.

“Um… something came up,” he’d lamely responded. 

“Well… it’s fine.  I realised we were running late for Fred’s playdate, so we had to go anyway.”

“Right.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Right.”

This morning, he still couldn’t work out what had happened.  The first time he’d gone to the cottage, he’d felt that unsettling urge to leave as soon as he passed through the gate.  The second time, he hadn’t even been able to make it into the garden, the unsettling urge replaced with a more concrete, specific need to be elsewhere. 

At 2am he’d suddenly realised that Miller had reported a similar urgent need to be elsewhere.  He’d almost called her to make further enquiries about that, but then he’d remembered that she’d strongly requested (with various threats made against certain delicate parts of his anatomy), that he not call her during the night unless it was absolutely, categorically, indisputably, an emergency.

Now, as he was thinking about her, he heard Miller’s voice in the outer office.  Focusing his gaze, he saw her greeting another colleague, takeaway cup of coffee in her hand.

“Miller!” he shouted.  She started, glared at him, and didn’t bother to hide the fact that she rolled her eyes at the other officer before approaching Alec’s office. 

“Yes?” she asked exasperatedly.

“Shut the door.  I need to ask you somethin’.”

She obeyed, ending up sat on the arm of the sofa, sipping her coffee.

“What?”

“Yesterday… at the cottage,” he began, hesitantly, because he realised that this was going to sound ridiculous (more ridiculous than a car that was invisible to CCTV?), “did you um… did you try to get closer?”

“Closer?”  She pulled a face, baffled.

“Did you try to enter the garden, Miller?”

“Oh.”  She thought about that for a second, and Alec waited with baited breath.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted her answer to be.  “I think… yeah, I did.  It was just as I was about to go through the gate that I remembered Fred’s… oh.  Oh.”

“What?” Alec asked, more harshly than he’d intended, unwilling to admit to himself how concerned he was by her second ‘oh’.  She had his full attention.

“Um… well… you see…”  She was hesitating now, seemingly unwilling to admit to the real explanation, averting her gaze.  Alec’s stomach dropped into his shoes. 

“Miller…” he requested in a very serious tone, “at what point did you realise that Fred did not in fact have a playdate scheduled?”

She suddenly met his gaze, eyes wide.

“How did you…?”

“Answer the question, Miller,” Alec groaned.

“We parked up outside Fiona and Rob’s house.  As I was about to get out of the car, I suddenly had no idea what I was doing there.  Fred hasn’t had a playdate with Amy in months, not since they started school and made different friends.”

“Fuck.”  Alec buried his head in his hands.

“What is it?” Miller asked, standing up and moving closer to him.

He shook his head.

“I got back to the office and when I sat down here, I had absolutely no recollection of any phone call I needed to make.  Other than to call you and apologise for leaving so suddenly.”

“But when you were up on that cliff, it was absolutely clear to you that you needed to get back here?”

Alec nodded.

“Miller, there’s something I didn’t tell you about the first time I went to the cottage.”  He peered at her through his fingers.  She was staring at him, eyebrows raised.  “I managed to get through the gate that time, but the whole time I was in the garden, I felt this powerful urge to leave.  It took all my willpower to overcome it.”

“Bloody hell, Hardy!  And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“Well… it’s a bit… weird, innit?”

“The people with the invisible car also have some kind of magic preventing people getting close to their house, and you think that’s ‘a bit weird’?”  Miller was incredulous.  Alec sort of understood.  Although…

“Magic?!” he snorted.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous!”

“Magic though?  You can’t be serious, Miller.”  He dropped his hands and stared at her.

She smiled.

“If you really thought I was joking, you wouldn’t have dignified the suggestion with a response.”

He just grunted at that.  Miller drained the rest of her coffee.

“I have an old friend in the traffic section in Cardiff, I’ll make a call, see if they can provide any off the books info on this Torchwood thing.”  Standing, she left the office.

Alec glared after her.  A part of him wished the invisible bloody car had just knocked him down.  Maybe he’d be in a coma and not experiencing all this idiotic nonsense.

*

It was a beautiful morning, and after breakfast in a café by the harbour, Aziraphale suggested a walk along the town’s famous golden cliffs.  Zee appeared to be responding very well to fresh air, and there was none fresher than that to be found with the breeze whipping her hair from her face on a clifftop. 

Leaving the café, they passed the police station, an attractive, round building overlooking the harbour.  It had to be one of the more picturesque the UK had to offer; most police stations didn’t have balconies with a sea view. 

Continuing around the harbour, they progressed casually, taking their time, and watching the variety of fishing vessels and little pleasure boats bobbing on the water, a seagull picking a fragment of fish from a lobster pot on board one of them.  On the other side of the bridge, where the river approached through broad meadows of long grass, a pair of swans glided along.  It was now Monday, and the place was quiet despite the weather, still demonically assisted into an unlikely brightness and warmth for the time of year.  There was a peacefulness that seemed to permeate through all their bodies.  Zee was holding Crowley’s hand, and her other arm was passed through Aziraphale’s, clinging to him in a way that felt gently affectionate.  On other occasions recently, she had been grasping for comfort and security, but this was more relaxed, and seemed simply because she wanted to be close to him, which was a heart-warming development, the angel felt.

“We could go to the pub this evening,” Zee suggested as they passed the one that fronted onto the beach.  Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“You’ve been doing very well this week, love, but we don’t need to push forward with quite such pace, you know.”

Zee smiled up at him.

“Their pie and mash has very good reviews.  And we can easily leave if I feel overwhelmed.”

“Well… we’re following your lead, my dear,” the angel agreed, returning her smile, and squeezing her arm with his. 

They proceeded onto the beach, and across to the footpath that would lead them up the cliffs.  It was a little narrow for all three of them, and Aziraphale allowed his partners to go on ahead of him, taking his time to breathe in the scent of salt and seaweed, observing the waves and the ripples in the sand, and a woman with a dog down at the water’s edge, tossing a ball into the surf for the excitable Labrador to retrieve.

This really was lovely.  For all of them actually.  Not only was Zee progressing with remarkable speed now they’d transplanted her into this more open and relaxing environment, but he noted that Crowley seemed happier too, and the angel also felt less tension in his own shoulders.  Seeing the others so content was a big part of that, but also the change of scenery, the constant rhythm of the waves breaking on the beach, and the sunshine and fresh air all around them.

He thought it might be worth considering staying here longer, taking the cottage for an extra week.  They’d strengthened the wards after the incident on the first day, and although both angel and demon had felt little flickers of power pass through them a couple of times as somebody had approached the cottage, the protective magic had done its job, and whoever the visitors were, they had left immediately.  The tension caused by the original disturbance had receded, and they were all feeling relaxed again.  Clearly, they were more inclined to worry because of what had happened previously, but it seemed there was really no reason to panic. 

Tearing his eyes from the beach and beginning to follow his partners up the narrow cliff path, the angel smiled.  Zee was skipping along happily, dragging Crowley in her wake, the demon trying hard not to be encouraged into anything that could be accused of being similarly joyful, although Aziraphale knew his husband would be grinning inside, thrilled at the sheer happiness on display from their partner.    

He’d grown rather used to seeing Crowley in his female form.  Throughout history, it had been an infrequent occurrence, the angel always observing the alternate corporation with interest, loving his demon in all their forms, although he did have a preference for the male body that was clearly also Crowley’s most comfortable.  Aziraphale had occasionally been compelled by his work to take a female form himself, but always reluctantly and for as short a period as possible.  He was so very settled in this corporation, and disliked the change.  Crowley had always been more flexible.

Seeing his demon like this alongside Zee was a combination he’d found strange at first, a feeling they had appeared to share, although they’d become very comfortable with it now.  Zee paid little attention to gender in a partner, and Aziraphale understood that Crowley often changed his sex (at least with regard to what was beneath his underwear), to engage in more sapphic encounters with their partner, so in that respect Zee was very familiar with this body.  But the fully female-presenting demon was a variation she’d had little experience with previously, and she did seem to have acquired a real fondness for them. 

When it came to sex though…  Aziraphale gladly received kisses from Zee, and was delighted to be able to hold her and share that affection, but her more intimate interactions were exclusively with Crowley at present.  It was understandable of course; after what she had experienced with Kilgrave, it was obvious that she might be reluctant to touch a male body.  Crowley had never described the things he’d seen in her memories in very explicit detail, but he’d shared enough to give Aziraphale some idea of what she’d been forced to allow Kilgrave to do to her, and worse, what he’d forced her to do to him.  The angel suspected there were some acts that Zee had previously taken great pleasure in, that she might never recover her enthusiasm for.  Kilgrave had stolen so much from her.

Aziraphale could change of course, if he really wanted to encourage more intimacy between himself and his beloved girl.  But that didn’t appeal, especially since Zee was still averse to being touched herself.  He’d rather love her in other ways; the connection they shared in those quiet moments alone, when she submitted herself entirely to his aura and almost seemed to meditate in the freedom allowed by him removing all responsibility from her shoulders.  And he could hold her hand, have her snuggle in his arms, share a passionate kiss.  That was enough.  Even if he missed her more intimate affections, and particularly the delight he found in giving her pleasure.

He worried for the Doctor though.  Not just a man, but with a body completely identical to that with which she had been assaulted.  They’d been very focused on simply getting back to a point where she could see him again, could speak with him and be in his presence, looking upon him without fear.  But their relationship had always been so much more than that, filled from the first time they met with a passion that had expressed itself in an instinctively physical way. 

He wasn’t concerned that they wouldn’t want each other without sex; there was genuine love between them, and they enjoyed each other’s company too much for that.  But he worried that they would find it distressing to be together if they were unable to express their feelings in that way.  And he wasn’t sure how much thought either of them had given to what that might be like.  He was frightened that Zee might become angry and frustrated if she could see her Time Lord again, but was unable to love him in all the ways she had before.

Perhaps it was something he should discuss with Jack…  And actually, when they were planning how to perform the experiment of Crowley resuming his male form, maybe they should also talk about the continued care they’d need to take in their interactions as a group.  The angel sighed deeply.  Small steps, he reminded himself.  Careful steps.

He caught up to the others as they reached the top of the cliff.  Crowley was behind Zee, with his arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on her shoulder as they talked quietly, looking out over the water.  They were really beautiful together, and Aziraphale thought he should probably focus on how lucky he was, that Crowley could make this alteration, and they could continue to all be together, the three of them. 

He watched as Zee turned her head and reached up, fingers threading through Crowley’s hair and pulling him down to her, kissing him with a depth that Aziraphale hadn’t observed in a while.  Then Crowley became aware of the angel’s presence and squeezed Zee’s arm to get her attention.  He whispered something in her ear, and Aziraphale saw the way her face lit up into a delighted smile that he’d for a time despaired of ever seeing again.

She turned and fixed that smile on him, nibbling briefly on her lip before removing herself from Crowley’s arms and walking over to him.  She threw her arms around his neck and lifted herself onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his with a gorgeous mixture of firmness and softness; a combination that he had never quite understood how she achieved.  Aziraphale held her tightly, arms around her waist and hands on her back, revelling in the way she parted his lips with her tongue and proceeded to tenderly explore his mouth.  He could taste their demon on her, and the familiarity of the mingled flavours made his heart soar with happiness. 

Sensing Crowley’s gaze on them, he opened one eye, and saw that the demon had pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, and was watching them with eyes bared, arms folded, and a kind of amused smirk on his lips, happiness dancing through it.  With just a finger, the angel invited Crowley closer, before refocusing his attention on the wonderful affection of their partner. 

Zee soon broke the kiss, and Aziraphale saw those deep chocolate eyes fixed on his.  She was smiling.

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“I love you too, sweet girl,” he replied.  Then he opened his arms to include Crowley in the embrace, and the three of them held each other tightly.  Crowley kissed both their foreheads, in a clear expression of his own love.  He’d vocalised his feelings more often recently, but it was still not really his way. 

Head resting on Aziraphale’s chest, and with Crowley’s lip still buried in her hair, Zee giggled quietly. 

“I really didn’t think I’d be this happy again,” she stated, emotion cracking her voice.      

*

“Hi Julie!  Long time, no see.  How are the kids?  …  Oh, right…  Oh that’s great, oh well done him! … Yeah, no I did have a reason for calling.  Something’s cropped up in a case here, and we’re struggling to find information about it…  Yeah, it’s Torchwood?  …  Oh…  Oh, right…”

After finishing her phone call, Ellie returned to Alec’s office.

“It’s years old, doesn’t exist anymore.”

“What?”  Alec looked up from some papers on his desk.  Ellie stood in the middle of the office, arms folded.

“Torchwood.  Julie says there are older people on her traffic team, remember it being mentioned.  They talk about a shiny, black SUV, used to go around speeding everywhere, getting into chases and turning up anywhere there was anything a bit weird.  There was a handsome chap in a long coat, American, used to be around a lot.  But superiors always told them to leave well alone.  Seemed like it was some secret government thing, or military.  Nobody quite knew.”

“Oh, great.  Secret government bullshit.  And Americans.  That’s all we need.”

Ellie shrugged.

“Just reporting the facts.”

“Well, we don’t have many of those, do we?  Everything is just more questions.”  He sighed.  “I suppose this is one of those things where if we start asking too many questions, we’ll just be told it’s not something for the likes of us to concern ourselves with.”

Ellie moved to Alec’s desk and sat down on it. 

“Or,” she speculated, “we’ll disappear!  Swept off to some secret facility, so they can cover their tracks!”

“You don’t have to sound so excited about that,” Alec responded, mingling sarcasm with a mournful tone. 

Ellie pushed him on the shoulder playfully.

“Hey, they nearly killed a serving police officer, a DI no less, a pillar of the community…”

“You’re being ridiculous again.”

“Yeah, I probably am this time,” she giggled, accepting that Alec was really more like a puddle of the community than a pillar.  “Point is though, they can’t just go around running people over in their invisible vintage car.  They need to behave more responsibly.”

Alec looked at her, the expression on his face vaguely approaching amusement if she squinted hard enough. 

There was a knock on the door then, and a junior officer popped their head in to advise them that an important witness in the smashed dry cleaner’s window case had arrived to make their statement.  Alec rolled his eyes.

“I suppose we ought to do some proper work,” he sighed.

“And then we’ll get some lunch, and decide how to proceed with the magical case of the invisible Bentley.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

*

Around 2pm that afternoon, Zee was walking along the pier.  Aziraphale and Crowley were buying ice cream from one of the harbourside huts, and she’d wandered away from them.  The lapping of the waves against the stone wall was very relaxing, and the sun was glinting beautifully off the water.  Before she even realised how far she’d gone, she was virtually at the end of the long arm stretching out across the water, protecting the little harbour from winter storms. 

There were a few people about around the harbour, but she didn’t really feel scared, only a little anxious, and it felt important, to be able to walk around by herself. 

She saw a young couple with a small child, nodding as they passed each other, and sharing a smile with the kid.  It was contact with a stranger, something she was slowly learning to accept again.  She’d ordered her own food from the waitress in the restaurant on Saturday night, and then even managed a conversation with a local scientist she’d met on the beach yesterday, overcoming her initial alarm when they approached her to discuss the identity of a fossil she’d found.  Aziraphale and Crowley had been close by, keeping an eye on her, and ready to step in if necessary.

Although crowds were still overstimulating as her mind continued to heal, individual people were ok, so long as they didn’t approach too closely or touch her.  She could manage conversation just fine, and she no longer felt the waves of shame she’d struggled with initially; the fear that just by looking, strangers could tell what had happened to her.  She knew they couldn’t, and that was good.  She didn’t want people to know.  She didn’t want them to look at her differently because of what he’d done.   

There were a few more people at the end of the pier, and she sat on a bench set against the wall, just before she reached the raised circular viewpoint.  She realised that in the past, she’d have wanted to take the couple of steps up and look out over the sea, but this felt safer.  Nobody could approach behind her. 

She watched the people; a man pointing out a fishing boat to a young boy perched on his shoulders, an elderly couple sat on the concrete seating around the edge of the viewing platform, eating fish and chips.  Above them, a woman had set up an easel, and was painting the famous cliffs. 

After a minute or so, someone sat next to her on the bench, and she turned her head slightly, seeing a woman about her own age.  Although her heart beat a little faster at the sudden proximity of a stranger, she smiled and received a smile in return, before returning her gaze to the goings on around the end of the pier.

“You’re Zee, right?” the woman asked after a few more seconds. 

Zee froze, her heart beginning to race now.  How the hell did this woman…  Swallowing, and looking at the stranger intently, she reminded herself that there was probably a perfectly rational explanation.  She’d met a lot of people in her life, at school, uni, work… maybe she just didn’t immediately recognise the woman. 

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Before Zee quite understood what was happening, the woman reached across and took her hand.  She tried to withdraw it, shaking with sudden fear, her heart racing faster and her breath catching in her throat.  She hadn’t been touched by a stranger in so long… by anyone other than Aziraphale, Crowley, or Jack, since she’d returned from New York.  The woman held onto her hand tightly though, and Zee found she couldn’t move, frozen into place as her mind was paralysed by its struggle to process what was happening. 

“This is a gift for you,” the stranger said, pressing something from her other hand into the one of Zee’s that she was holding, and wrapping Zee’s fingers closed around it.  “Sent with an apology for hurting you, and a hope that you might find it in your heart to forgive.”

Then the woman stood, dropping her hands, and walked quickly away back down the pier. 

For several seconds Zee just watched the retreating figure, breathing as deeply as she could, trying to establish control of her emotions.  Then she remembered that something had been left in her hand.  She glanced down and unfurled her fingers. 

She didn’t scream when she saw the object she was holding.  There was no breath in her lungs to allow that to happen.  But her mouth opened, and her body began shaking uncontrollably.  She really couldn’t breathe now, despite all her efforts, gasping in gulps of air that couldn’t make it past the apparent blockage in her windpipe.  The panic attack took hold quickly, and she dropped the object, lifting her hands to her throat and scrabbling desperately as she entirely failed to breathe.

Her eyes were still fixed on the ‘gift’, now lying on the ground.  The golden yellow gem seemed to glow in the sunlight, its asterism bright, and surrounded by the familiar twists of gold.  The chain was pooled in a heap next to it. 

It was her pendant.

The one that had been taken from her while she was sleeping in her hotel room in New York.  She’d not seen it since. 

She was becoming dizzy from lack of oxygen, still pawing at her own throat, so caught up in the sudden appearance of the pendant, that she could recall none of the techniques she’d learned to deal with her condition.  She was gasping loudly and roughly, harshly sucking the air into her mouth but finding that it could progress no further.  Nausea washed through her in waves as she shook and trembled, her whole body intensely shivering and tingling.

Footsteps approached her then, running.  Two sets.  A person crouched in front of her, a man she thought, wearing a dark suit.  Then, she could sense another body next to her, and there was a voice coming from her left.

“It’s ok, sweetheart.  Can you breathe for me?  Slowly, sweetheart, nice and deep.  You’re going to be fine.” 

The voice was joined by a hand on her back, stroking slowly.

Zee’s eyes shifted to the person next to her, not knowing the voice but sensing it was a woman, very gentle, motherly.  She vaguely registered that it wasn’t the same woman who’d given her the pendant.  She couldn’t lift her head, so all she could really see was that there were legs next to hers, in a grey trouser suit.  A leather crossbody bag was squashed between the two of them. 

Then there was another voice from low down in front of her. 

“Yes, ambulance please… Broadchurch harbour, down on the pier.  Female, 30s, struggling to breathe… yes, urgently, soon as possible, thanks...”

A man’s voice.  Scottish.  She liked the accent. 

Drawn to the voice, she moved her gaze to him, just as she finally managed to get a couple of breaths of air into her lungs, reducing the dizziness a fraction.  He was crouching in front of her, not touching, one hand presumably holding his phone to his ear, while the other was pressed against his own knee to help him balance.  Her pendant was dangling from his hand.  He must have picked it up while she’d been looking at the woman.

Her eyes fixed on the hand.  Narrow, with long, slender fingers… a hand whose shape she recognised immediately.  Her next breath stuck again, as panic resumed its hold on her. 

Fuck.

She coughed, choking, her body no longer sure what it was trying to do. 

Her eyes lifted further though, unable to resist.

Suit jacket and tie.  Short beard. 

Suddenly, big brown eyes stared back at her, their expression full of concern.  They were gazing at her through a messy fringe, but they were the eyes she knew so well. 

Frozen, her mouth opened wide in a silent, petrified scream, her whole face displaying utter terror. 

That face.  The face.  His face.    

Chapter Text

Ellie could feel the renewed stiffness and agony of the body beneath her hands.  The woman was choking, completely unable to breathe, and Ellie was becoming scared that she wouldn’t be able to help in time to prevent her blacking out from lack of oxygen. 

Then she noticed Alec stagger back, reaching behind him to break his fall.  Observing his horrified expression, and then looking at the woman, leaning around to better see her face, Ellie realised that she was utterly petrified, and was staring at Alec, unable to remove her gaze. 

“Alec, get back, out of the way, where she can’t see you!”

He nodded, ignoring the fact she’d used his first name, and scrambled to his feet, retreating across the pier. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.  He’s gone.  Breathe, darling.  Can you do that for me?  Please.”  She realised her voice was becoming more desperate, which probably wasn’t helpful, but god, it was hard not to panic.  There was also something familiar about the woman, she thought, but she couldn’t quite place her. 

Several things happened all at once then, and it was very difficult to keep track. 

Two more figures arrived on the scene, running down the pier towards them, Ellie vaguely registering that they were the red-haired woman and the blond man from Saturday evening.  The man approached her, and Ellie held out a hand.

“I’m trying to help her.  She appears to possibly be averse to men, so please stay back, sir.”

There was a huff from the man, and he evaded her hand, crouching in front of the woman in the space previously occupied by Alec. 

“She’ll be fine with me, I can help her,” he insisted, taking the woman’s shaking hands in his and gazing, with what was clearly a thin veneer of calmness, up into her face.  “Zee?  Zee, love.  Deep breaths for me, dearest, focus on me.  Nice and slow.” 

Ellie instantly felt the woman relax slightly, and her mouth dropped open in amazement.  She also realised now that the woman was the one who’d completed the strange trio in the restaurant, so she knew the man, and questions began racing through Ellie’s mind, regarding the relationships here (which she’d never quite fathomed the other night), the reason for the woman’s fear, and why she was so terrified of Alec. 

Then, her attention was taken by a scuffle on the opposite side of the pier.  The red-haired woman had taken hold of Alec, pinning him back against the wall.  Fine tendrils of smoke seemed to be emerging from the woman, although it was possible that Ellie was just imagining that. 

*

Crowley was blinded by a mist of scarlet fury, his body shaking and beginning to smoke slightly.  He held the struggling human back against the wall with ease, caught between rage at the fact that the animal had had the guts to return and cause his precious girl such pain, and dark pleasure at the thought that this time, this time, he would overcome the pity inspired by their connected nature, and he would wipe this vile creature from the face of the Earth, like he should have done the first time.

He glanced briefly back towards his angel and Zee.  Aziraphale was calming her, distracting her, keeping her safe.  She would be ok, at least physically. 

Turning back to Kilgrave, he snarled a demonic growl, the kind of sound that would strike fear into any human heart that heard it.  The body in his grip shook, not even trying to fight now. 

“This time, I will make no mistake,” Crowley informed his prey, in a low, quiet voice.  “I will crush your mind completely, for good this time.  And you will never have so much as the thought of an opportunity to hurt my girl again.”

“You’ve… I don’t….” the man gasped, barely forming the words. 

“Shut it!” Crowley growled.  He began to reach into the man’s mind, quickly thrusting his power deep inside, hoping to maintain his advantage.  He pulled on more of his power, knowing from his previous experience that he’d need everything he had to overcome the mental strength of his adversary. 

The man screamed. 

“Get off him!  What are you doing to him?!  Police!  Lower your hands and step away from him immediately!” 

Crowley ignored the woman, sinking his power deeper into Kilgrave’s mind.  Hands began to pull at his arm, but he shrugged her off. 

And then he paused.  Through the mist of his anger, he sensed that something wasn’t right; something didn’t feel like it had felt the last time.  He hesitated, but worried that this was some trick, some new game of Kilgrave’s, designed to distract him so that the human could get the upper hand. 

Concentrating on the way the man’s mind felt, Crowley became increasingly convinced though, that something was very wrong here. 

This did not feel like Kilgrave’s mind. 

The demon shifted his focus to reading the thoughts of the mind he was in, and it finally became clear that the man in his hands was not the man he thought it was.  This mind was full of paperwork and interviews and form-filling, police procedure and complaining residents.  There were horrifying memories of murders and vicious attacks, of seeing grisly dead bodies and interviewing victims of brutal assaults.  There was a more recent memory of stepping back from the road as the Bentley almost knocked him down.

Oh.  This was that guy. 

Crowley drew back, retreating from the mind, although not dropping his hold on the figure just yet.  He stared at the man, who was breathing hard, looking back at him with terror on his very, very familiar features. 

“Fucking doppelgängers!” Crowley yelled furiously into the air around them. 

“I’m going to need you to let go of my colleague.  Just drop your hands, please.  You’re currently assaulting a police officer.”

The woman again, still grasping at his shoulder.  Crowley decided it was probably best to do as she said.  After all, this was apparently not Kilgrave, and he wouldn’t be able to run away, because if he tried, Crowley would prevent that. 

He dropped his hands and shrugged out of the woman’s grip.  Still staring at the man, he groaned in frustration.

“Who the fuck are you?” Crowley asked exasperatedly.  Although the idea had been intriguing at first, he had reached his absolute limit with the concept of doppelgängers.

“We might ask you the same question,” the woman replied, the man still trying to remember to breathe.

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking him,” Crowley pointed out. 

“DI Hardy, Wessex Police,” the man gasped automatically.  He had a Scottish accent.  Crowley vaguely recalled that his initial protests had carried the accent.  He’d been so fixated on the idea of Kilgrave that he hadn’t noticed. 

“Right.  And now you.”  The demon turned to the woman.

“DS Miller.  Same.”        

“Wonderful.  Thank you, officers.”  Crowley stepped back, and the others stared at him in confusion. 

“What do you mean, thank you?” DS Miller questioned.  “You just assaulted DI Hardy, right in front of me!”

“Yeah.  Um… sorry about that.  Mistaken identity.”

“Oh, so you intended to assault somebody else?” she asked, arms folded now, and voice dripping with incredulous sarcasm.

“Yep,” Crowley admitted, continuing with confidence, “and trust me, you’d have approved.”

“Look here, I don’t know who you think you are, or what is going on, but I would never approve of physical assault, no matter what the other person…”  She trailed off, glancing towards her colleague.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that.  That was different!”

The statement was confusing, because the man wasn’t actually looking at her at all.  Were these two married?

DI Hardy’s eyes were still fixed on Crowley.  And fuck, if they weren’t the Doctor’s eyes.  Kilgrave’s eyes.  They gazed at him in confusion, wide and scared still. 

“What did you do to me?”

Crowley swallowed.  He didn’t want to answer that question.  It crossed his mind to erase the man’s memory but he hated using this type of power, and he’d have to do both of these people, and actually, given how deeply he’d penetrated the man’s mind, he wasn’t entirely sure it would work. 

“You wouldn’t understand even if I explained.”

“Oh, give me a break!”  Hardy sounded completely exasperated.  “I’ve had just about enough of unexplainable bollocks this week!”

“Would this be a good time to point out that these people are the ones from the restaurant on Saturday night, the ones with the car?” Miller asked.

“Bloody hell, Miller!”  Hardy stared at her with an expression that Crowley thought reflected somewhat exhausted astonishment.  “Tell me you’re joking?”

She shook her head. 

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh.  Then he felt a twinge of guilt, and turned towards Aziraphale and Zee.  His angel was still crouched in front of their partner, soothing and calming her.  She was gazing into his eyes, breathing deeply and steadily now. 

Facing Hardy again, Crowley took a deep breath.

“DI Hardy, I apologise for… the thing I just did.  We appear to have a problem with lookalikes, and particularly a very, very dangerous man who looks exactly like you.  However, the most pressing thing right now is that you leave.  She absolutely cannot see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” Miller interjected, “but you seem to be under the impression that we’re going to just forget all this and carry on with our day.  I’m afraid you’ll need to come with us.  And actually… you still haven’t confirmed your name!”

“Oh, my apologies.  Crowley, Antonia Crowley.  Charmed.”  Crowley inclined his head briefly, all politeness for a second.

“Right, well Ms Crowley.  If you could just come with us back to the station.  It’s not too far.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.  I need to check on my partner.  And you,” he nodded towards Hardy, “need to leave.”

Miller seemed about to argue, when Hardy placed a hand on her arm and shook his head.

“Can you come down to the station later?  Give a statement.  I think it might be best if we all took a breather.  And we know where you’re staying, so you can’t do a runner, eh?”

Crowley smiled very sweetly at him.

“It would be my pleasure to continue our conversation later, Detective Inspector.”

“Right.”  Hardy appeared baffled by Crowley’s constantly shifting attitude.  He glanced over at Aziraphale and Zee, who remained as they had been before.  “The woman is your partner?”

Crowley nodded.

 “Does she suffer from panic attacks often?” Hardy asked.

“She experienced a trauma.  She’s recovering well, but…” Crowley trailed off, not sure what to say.

“She was frightened of Hardy,” Miller pointed out.   

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, giving the man a thorough assessment, eyes passing all the way down his body and then back up to his face again.  “You would be more than enough to trigger a panic attack.”

Hardy appeared only mildly offended and certainly unsurprised by the result of Crowley’s appraisal.

“She was already having it before we arrived though; seeing him only made it worse.”

Crowley fixed his attention on the woman then, not having previously realised that Zee’s distress had begun prior to Hardy’s arrival.

“Do you have any idea what…”

“I think she’d dropped this,” Hardy interrupted, holding out the pendant.  Crowley’s eyebrows lifted almost off the top of his head when he saw it, and his mouth dropped open in horrified astonishment.  He was suddenly terrified and furious in equal measure, stepping threateningly towards Hardy again.

“Where did you get that?!” he asked in an angry whisper, eyes like daggers staring into Hardy’s.

“It was on the ground in front of her.”

“There was no man nearby?  You didn’t see a man who looks just like you?”  Crowley was so full of rage and fear that he didn’t really realise how much he was panicking.  He was right up in Hardy’s face again now, only just refraining from grabbing him.  “Think!”  He turned to Miller.  “A man who looks just like him… come on, you’d definitely notice that!”

“Calm down!” Miller advised.  “I didn’t see anyone fitting that description.”

“No!  Because he keeps out of the way.  He plans and prepares and he puts the pieces into play, and then he just watches from somewhere he’ll be safe… Fuck!”  Fisting his hands in his hair, Crowley stepped back again, looking around them in every direction, as if imagining that he’d suddenly catch sight of that smirking face.  “But it has to be him…”  He let out a long, agonised groan.  “Oh, why didn’t I just kill him when I had the chance?”

“Ms Crowley, can you please try to remain calm?” Hardy requested.

“CALM?!”  Crowley rounded on Hardy, glaring at him.  “The… animal… last in possession of this pendant destroyed that woman over there…”  He pointed towards Zee.  “He tore her mind into pieces and he…”  Crowley paused, looking at Hardy desperately, although it was difficult for the man to realise that given the sunglasses covering the demon’s eyes.  Crowley cleared his throat.  He wasn’t going to reveal all the details to these people.  Zee deserved her privacy.

Then a new thought struck him.  “But why… why would he?”  He reached for the pendant.  “Give me that!”  Hardy allowed Crowley to take it.  The demon turned it around between his fingers, inspecting it closely.  “Why would he give it back?”  He thought some more, then looked up and fixed his gaze on Hardy, before apparently changing his mind, and turning to Miller instead.  “His mind probably isn’t in the best shape right now.  I’m sorry.  It’s very important that I test this.” 

He really, really didn’t want to, but what choice did he have?  With a sigh, he pushed inside the woman’s mind.

“What are you… ooh… oh…”  Miller raised her hand to her head, presumably because she could feel the tingling of Crowley’s presence.  Like pins and needles, Zee had always described it. 

Crowley settled in Miller’s head, quickly finding the right position for control.  He mentally told her to walk back along the pier.  She turned and walked away from them.

“What’s happening?” Hardy asked cautiously.  Crowley ignored him, and silently instructed Miller to return, which she did.  He eased back so he was no longer in control, and held the pendant up to her.

“Put this on.”

“What?” Miller questioned harshly.  She was clearly feeling less co-operative than her colleague, when not under the direct control of Crowley’s occult powers. 

“Please.  It’s very important.  I need to check something.”

“Miller, do as she says,” Hardy instructed.

“But…”

“That’s an order, Miller.  There’s something going on here.”

Miller glared at Hardy.  Crowley tapped his foot impatiently, muttering under his breath.  With a huff, the woman finally took the pendant from Crowley’s hand and fastened it around her neck. 

“There.  Happy?”  She glared at both the others this time.

“I’m sorry.  I wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Crowley eased back inside Miller’s mind and repeated his earlier instruction. 

She turned and walked back along the pier again.

“Shit!” Crowley angrily sighed, placing his hands on his hips. 

Per the demon’s instructions, Miller returned and removed the pendant, handing it back to Crowley, who immediately slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.  Hardy watched, eyes wide and an expression of utter confusion on his face. 

“Miller, what’re you doing?”

She turned to her colleague, her own eyes wide, head shaking slightly from side to side. 

“I’m not… I did…”

Crowley was deep in thought, fear accompanying the rage darkening his features.

“This pendant is a copy,” he explained automatically, mind still focused on its own thoughts.  “The original is a powerful talisman, protecting the wearer from any sort of mind control or thought manipulation.  This is a fake, because it didn’t work.”

They both stared at him blankly.  He’d of course offered them precisely zero context. 

“What?” Miller snapped.  Hardy’s eyes narrowed, studying Crowley intently. 

The demon turned on his heel and quickly stepped across to where Aziraphale was still crouched in front of Zee.  The angel was keeping their partner’s eyes fixed on him, speaking quietly with her, and holding her hands in his where they rested on her lap.  She was breathing in a very controlled, too-steady way, and her body was still shaking.

Crowley crouched next to Aziraphale, settling a hand on top of theirs.

“Have you got rid of him?” the angel whispered.  Crowley leaned in very closely to speak directly, barely even in a whisper, into Aziraphale’s ear.

“Kilgrave is here.”

There was an almost immediately stifled gasp from the angel, who tried desperately to prevent himself reacting too obviously, for fear of further distressing Zee.  Before he could give more of a response though, another person arrived, a deep voice speaking from above them and just to their right. 

“Hello.  We received a call about a woman struggling to breathe.  I’m Mark, a paramedic first responder.”

Crowley glanced up at the man, who was incredibly tall, and broad with it, very strongly built.  He had short hair, in a sort of dark blond colour, and a beard to match.  The thought fleetingly entered the demon’s head that if he’d been in his male form, he would have strongly desired to meet this man on a night out, although his blue eyes were very kind, possibly too kind for the sort of itch Crowley liked to have scratched in such a scenario.  Besides which, the man was probably not interested in men.  All these thoughts passed in an instant.

It seemed Aziraphale had also been looking, because it was the angel who actually managed to reply to the stranger’s greeting.

“Ah.  I believe I’ve solved the difficulty already.  I do apologise for your wasted trip.”

The man observed Zee, and then looked at Aziraphale.

“If I could just check on her anyway.  I can’t leave until I’m sure she’s ok.  Paperwork, you know.”  He seemed apologetic.  Definitely too kind.  Although looking at his build, Crowley guessed that physically he’d have exactly what… neither the time nor the place, Crowley…

“Oh.  Um…” Aziraphale stammered.

Somebody-damnit!

Crowley sighed.  He was still very close to Aziraphale.

“I need to check he’s not under the influence, angel,” he whispered.  Aziraphale nodded.

Standing, Crowley approached the newcomer, drawing him away from the others for a moment.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Hardy and Miller were very closely watching how the scene played out.  They appeared to be wary enough of him that they were currently content to observe without interfering, but they were clearly not going to leave.  Concentrating on the paramedic instead, Crowley looked up at him. 

“She has panic attacks sometimes, following a traumatic experience.  If something triggers the response it can be dramatic, but she’s fine.”

The man nodded.

“I understand.  I do need to assess her though.”  Very patient and very kind.  And up close, Crowley was even more aware of how big, and how deliciously merged masculinity and softness were in him.  Damnit, he was incredibly attractive.  Crowley cursed his mind for distracting him at a time like this, although he also understood.  Far more appealing to imagine all the wicked things this incredible specimen of a man could do to him, than to consider the reappearance of Kilgrave and face up to the renewed horror of their situation.

“I’m sorry,” the demon murmured. 

He pushed inside the man’s head and tried to look around as quickly as possible, checking for any signs that Kilgrave had influenced him.  The man blinked several times, his brow knitting in confusion, irritation, and discomfort. 

Fortunately, there was no evidence of interference or outside influence.  There was however, some very interesting information… judging by the man’s thoughts (just the ones resting at the surface, nothing too deep because Crowley was not so rude as to go digging), he was very definitely interested in men.  Hmm…

With a cough to clear his throat, Crowley extracted himself.

“Of course, go ahead,” he said, moving out of the way and allowing the paramedic closer to Zee.  Aware of how things were progressing, Aziraphale was quietly preparing their partner for the interaction with the man.  She nodded, and her eyes travelled away from the angel’s face for the first time since he’d arrived, very carefully training themselves on the newcomer (and obviously even more carefully avoiding letting them stray towards the familiar form of Hardy across the pier). 

Aziraphale moved out of the way, sitting beside Zee on the bench now.  She was gripping his hand tightly.  Crowley hovered to the side, observing closely as the paramedic crouched down where the angel had been.  The man smiled very kindly at Zee.

“Hi, I’m Mark.  I’m a paramedic, and I’m here to check that you’re ok.”  Zee nodded, gazing at him uncertainly.  “Can you tell me your name?”

“Zee,” she whispered, voice hoarse and barely escaping her lips. 

“Ok Zee, you were having difficulty breathing?”  She nodded again.  “Your friend tells me that you sometimes experience panic attacks.  Do you think that’s what happened?”  Another nod.  “Ok.  It’s really great that your friends have been able to help you, but is it alright if I just do some tests to check your breathing is fine now?  I need to be sure that there is no other problem.” 

“Will you need to touch her?” Aziraphale asked.

“Um… a little, yeah.”  Mark glanced at the angel, fresh concern in his eyes.  Crowley could see that his mind was working over the limited information he had and forming some conclusions.  Looking back to Zee, the man smiled encouragingly.  “Zee, I’m going to explain to you the things that I’d like to do, and I need you to tell me if they’re ok.”  She nodded again, eyes a little wider than before.  She appeared relatively calm though, and Crowley could see that Mark was very good at his job; Zee felt safe with him.  She took a deep breath.

“If you tell me,” she began, clearing her throat in an attempt to enable her voice to project better, “so I know what’s going to happen, I think it’ll be ok.”

Mark nodded, and opened his bag, beginning to take out some equipment.  Once he had the things he thought he might need, he looked up at Zee again.

“We’re going to start really simply, Zee.  I’d like to check your pulse, so I’ll need to hold your wrist, and lay my fingers just so.”  He demonstrated on his own wrist, Zee watching carefully.  She nodded.

“That’s ok.”  She held her arm out so that he could proceed.

Crowley moved towards Aziraphale then.  He could see that their partner was in safe hands, and the urgency of discussing the situation was now his most pressing concern. 

“Word, angel.” 

Aziraphale nodded, squeezing Zee’s hand. 

“I need to speak with Crowley, love.  Is that ok?  You’ll be just fine with Mark, while he checks you over.  Keep your focus on him, yes?”

Crowley could see the fear in Zee’s eyes as she looked up at their angel, but she nodded and allowed him to remove his hand from hers.  The demon wondered how much of her current calmness was genuine and how much administered by Aziraphale in the form of a blessing.  She was brave, but she’d seen the pendant and then come face to face with Hardy.  He worried about the damage that experience might have done to her still-healing mind. 

Aziraphale stood up and followed Crowley a few steps away so their whispered conversation would not be heard by either their partner or the paramedic.

“Why is that man still here?” Aziraphale began angrily, glancing over at Hardy.

“Police.  They’re police officers.  Not that easy to be rid of.  She’d quite like to arrest me.”  There was the faintest hint of amusement behind the angry frustration in the demon’s voice.  “Not the worst thing to have them around, although I would much rather he didn’t look like that of course.”

“You said…”

“Zee’s attack began before they got here; they saw her and came to help.  Made it worse of course.  The original trigger...”  He sighed.  “I have no idea how she got it.  Somebody must have given it to her but… her pendant.”

Aziraphale gasped, gazing at Crowley, suddenly terrified.  He couldn’t speak initially.

“Fake, of course.  Why would he give her back the real one?  Suppose he was hoping we might not notice, and it would give her a false sense of security, make it easier to approach her.  Or it was just for dramatic effect.  He likes theatrics.”

“You all like theatrics,” the angel muttered, finding his voice again.  Behind the almost involuntary sarcastic response though, his mind was running fast, trying to calculate the best way to proceed.  “We should go home, where we can better protect her…”

“We can certainly get her back to the cottage, increase the wards.  Might be best to try and coax him out here though, angel.  Less places to hide than London.”

“Yes.”  Aziraphale hesitated briefly.  “And we need to call the Doctor and Jack.”

“And interrupt their romantic getaway?”

“We promised.” 

Crowley nodded. 

“I’ll let them know.  Um… we also did well with the local assistance last time.”  He glanced over at the two detectives who were still watching proceedings closely.  “Perhaps our new doppelgänger and his friend can be useful…”

“They’re humans Crowley, it’s not safe.”

“Better to keep him close, I’d say.  Wandering around town with a face like that…”

“Especially once the Doctor arrives,” the angel agreed, a vague smile fluttering over his mouth but not quite landing.  “Yes, we should see if they can help.”  He nodded decisively.  “I’ll speak with them while you let the Doctor know.”

Plan settled, Aziraphale approached Hardy and Miller.  Crowley recovered his phone from its pocket dimension and typed out a quick message, giving the Doctor the address of the cottage and suggesting they should arrive in about an hour, parking in the kitchen if possible so as not to draw attention.  It was pre-arranged that such a message would indicate that something was wrong and they required assistance.

Turning back towards Zee, he watched as Mark checked her blood pressure.  The paramedic was very calm and careful, large hands steady and sure as he performed his tasks as efficiently as possible.  He had Zee’s entire focus, and they were speaking quietly to each other, Mark presumably explaining and reassuring, and Zee responding to his questions and consenting to each new procedure.

Approaching the pair, Crowley perched on the bench next to his partner.  Mark smiled at him.

“We’re almost done.  Everything seems ok, so I’ve cancelled the main ambulance, and I’ll be able to get out of your hair shortly.”

“Thank you,” Crowley responded, curling his arm around Zee’s shoulders and holding her close.

“I’d just recommend no more excitement, and plenty of rest for the remainder of the day.  It’s quite energy-sapping.”

“We’ll do our best.”  Crowley failed to sound convinced.  He had no idea how they would manage to follow the advice, given the circumstances.  Well, other than miraculously.

At the other side of the pier, Aziraphale was speaking quite calmly to the two detectives.  Crowley suspected he would be projecting his angelic aura, encouraging them to feel comfortable in his presence, and to respond amenably to his suggestions. 

“Right, I’ll be off then,” Mark announced, zipping up his bag and standing.  Crowley nodded to him, smiling, and watched as he walked away, pulling Zee closer so her face was buried in his shoulder. 

The demon continued to observe as DI Hardy noticed the paramedic leaving, excused himself from Aziraphale, and jogged along to catch up and speak with him.  After a brief exchange, both of them looking back at Zee once or twice, he saw the detective take down Mark’s details, and the attractive paramedic finally left.

Feeling a buzz, Crowley checked his phone.  There was a reply.

The Doctor: Be there in an hour. 

Sighing as he slipped his phone back into its usual dimension, Crowley placed a kiss in Zee’s hair.

“We need to get back to the cottage, sweetheart.  Will you be ok?”  She nodded against his shoulder. 

Aziraphale returned then. 

“They’ll come up to the cottage in an hour,” the angel announced.

“Same,” Crowley agreed, referring to the pair he’d summoned.  “Be quite a meeting, I imagine.” 

“Yes.  We better head back and get Zee settled.”

Crowley and Zee stood, and the angel and demon arranged themselves with their partner safely between them.  A little magic kept other people at a distance, and they set off along the esplanade towards the cliff. 

Nobody spoke.  Zee was exhausted, and had been given a very hefty dose of calming angelic blessing, making her feel even more drowsy and fuzzy.  She was floating along, barely aware of what was happening.  Aziraphale and Crowley meanwhile, were both contemplating the situation they found themselves in, the impending meeting, and the news and explanations they would need to share.    

Chapter Text

Crowley paced back and forth across the living room, anxiously counting down the minutes until the arrival of their guests.  He’d already made the necessary adjustments to the wards on the cottage, so that the select group would all have access, and Aziraphale was upstairs with Zee, hoping to get her to sleep so that he could join the meeting downstairs.  A combination of the relaxing surround of his aura and the effect of an additional blessing should be enough to help her drift off peacefully, still protected from really knowing what was going on around her. 

A familiar wheezing sound alerted Crowley to the arrival of the first expected pair.  As instructed (and demonstrating a pleasing amenability on the part of the Tardis), the sound was coming from the kitchen, and Crowley moved through to greet them in a quite tense approximation of his usual saunter. 

With caution, it was Jack who emerged first, the Doctor holding back inside until he knew there would be no danger in showing his face.  Jack immediately approached Crowley with concern, noting the worry and tension on the demon’s face and wrapping him in a tight hug. 

“Where is she?  Is she ok?” he asked.

“Upstairs with Aziraphale,” Crowley answered in part, choosing to ignore the second question.  “I’ll explain what’s going on once we’re all ready.” 

Hearing the response, the Doctor appeared in the doorway of the Tardis.  As he stepped out, Crowley instantly felt his presence and met his gaze, not shielding his emotions much, because he knew the Time Lord would only painfully recall why Crowley had kept him out when they arrived in the bookshop all those weeks ago, but it meant the Doctor could now feel the deep fear and waves of panic in the demon, his own emotions picking up on those cues and reflecting a similar response back. 

Crowley tensed, and Jack released him, stepping back out of the way and glancing between them, realising what must be happening. 

“Shit.  Is it ok for you two to be together?”

“It has to be,” the Doctor uttered in a low voice, grimacing slightly and gritting his teeth.

“We’ll have to manage,” Crowley added, putting up some defences now that the Doctor had had the opportunity to sense the truth.  The Time Lord followed suit, and that eased things just enough for them to function.  “Come through to the living room; we’re expecting more guests.”

“Guests?” Jack questioned as he and the Doctor followed the demon through to the living room.  He took his partner’s hand and held it tightly, knowing that being here was difficult, and offering support, which the Doctor accepted with a grateful stroke of his thumb. 

“Two local detectives.”  Crowley motioned to the others to sit, stepping closer to the window himself, tweaking the curtains that were partially closed so anyone on the footpath couldn’t see inside, and glancing out to see if the police officers were on their way.  He could just make out the two suited figures approaching up the hill, and turned back into the room, where Jack and the Doctor had settled on the sofa, their hands clasped together and resting on Jack’s thigh.  “One of them has a very familiar face,” the demon added, hearing the sharp intakes of breath from both of the others. 

“You mean…” Jack questioned, not needing to complete the query since Crowley nodded immediately.

“Looks a few years older than you,” he elaborated, looking at the Doctor.  “But basically you if you grew a beard and didn’t style your hair.  Same terrible taste in suits that you have.”  The Doctor opened his mouth to protest that, but quickly seemed to think better of it and didn’t actually speak.  “Oh… and he’s Scottish, which is a bit different.”

“Oh, I love a Scottish accent!” the Doctor exclaimed, his features lighting up for a moment.  “I tried one out for a bit once.”  His face quickly fell back into a tense frown though, as he realised what the presence of a new doppelgänger meant.  He glanced up at the ceiling, love and pain equally present in his big, brown eyes.  “She saw him, didn’t she?” he asked, back in the low, deep voice he’d used earlier.  A terse nod was the demon’s only response.  Jack and the Doctor met each other’s gaze worriedly.

A creak on the stairs heralded the arrival of Aziraphale, who entered the room a moment later. 

“Ah, you’re here.  Good,” he said as he spotted the guests on the sofa.  “Aside from the circumstances, it’s lovely to see you both.”  He managed a small, tight smile.

The Doctor jumped up from the sofa, staring at the angel hopefully. 

“Is she ok?” he asked.  Aziraphale looked sadly at his friend and opened his arms, inviting the Doctor in for a hug. 

“She’s asleep, with little idea what’s going on, and sweet dreams in her mind,” he explained, not quite answering the question, as he took the Time Lord into his arms and held him tightly.  They drew apart after a short time, and Aziraphale stroked his hands over the Doctor’s shoulders.  “We’ll explain everything once we’re all here, but in the meantime, I’ll put the kettle on.  Jack, would you like to assist me?”

It wasn’t really a question, more of an instruction really, and Jack followed the angel back to the kitchen, leaving the Doctor and Crowley alone. 

‘It’s not just the detective, is it?’ the Doctor silently queried, the second the others had left.  ‘How bad is it?’

“Bad.”

Crowley felt a wave of agony pass through the Doctor; the knowledge of an immediately dangerous situation, but also the realisation that his hopes of seeing Zee again anytime soon were in tatters. 

‘Is me hugging you likely to help or just be painful?’ the demon asked.  The Doctor looked at him with glistening eyes.

‘I don’t care,’ he replied, throwing himself into Crowley’s arms.  The contact did intensify both their pain initially, but the comfort provided by the embrace took the edge off, and by each raising their mental defences, they found they could bear it.  They hugged for some time, before the Doctor squirmed slightly in the demon’s arms.  His firm chest was pressing up against the rather softer swell of Crowley’s breasts.  ‘Haven’t actually been this close with you in this form before,’ the Time Lord commented.  ‘Feels weird.’    

‘Good weird or bad weird?’

‘Um… is it wrong that I prefer the other one?’

Crowley gave a short laugh.

‘Oh, that’s a question for psychologists.  I really can’t help you with that one.  They’ll have a field day with the narcissism.’

*

“Are you ok, Aziraphale?” Jack asked, closing the door of the kitchen behind him.  The angel was already filling the kettle.

“Not particularly,” he replied with a sigh. 

“How worried should we be?”

Aziraphale fixed his keen, blue gaze on Jack.

“The situation is not good,” he answered somewhat vaguely.  Then his face crumpled, and he appeared on the verge of tears.  Jack hurried forward, pulling out a chair and guiding the angel into it.  “I have to keep it together.  For them, Jack.  I have to be strong.”

Jack knelt in front of him, much like he had that day in the bookshop when they’d learned what had happened in New York. 

“You don’t have to do it alone, Aziraphale.  Remember, we promised to help.  We’re here now, and we can fix this together, whatever it is.”  The angel gave a little sob, tears finally falling from his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.  Wiping them away with his hand, he tried to stand, but Jack held him down.  “And the first thing I can do, is make these drinks for you.  Where are the cups?” 

Sighing again, Aziraphale pointed to a cupboard, and watched as Jack began moving around the kitchen. 

“Thank you, Jack.  You’re really, very kind.”

*

“You seem to be very willing to go along with their bullshit,” Miller commented, as she and Alec climbed the hill towards the cottage.

“I’m hoping we might learn something,” he replied in a clipped tone, irritated by her need to offer an opinion.  He was confused, bewildered, and actually quite scared, but he didn’t want to let that become too obvious, and her commentary was therefore extremely unwelcome. 

“What do you make of this idea of an evil doppelgänger?” she enquired with her usual relentless ability to annoy him.  He snorted, not dignifying such a ridiculous notion with any more response than that.  He’d seen enough over the past few days to force him to keep an open mind about many things, but doppelgängers wandering about was taking it just a little too far. 

They progressed up the path in silence, until just before they reached the gate.

“Will we be able to get in?” Miller asked.

“How should I know?”

He almost growled in irritation, and quickened his pace, keen to solve that particular mystery as soon as possible.  Striding up to the gate, he pushed it open confidently, and passed through with ease.  No desire to leave made itself felt.  Nothing changed at all in fact.  He simply entered the garden, and continued up to the door, which he knocked on in his firm police officer’s style.  Before the door was answered, Miller was alongside him, having also made her way successfully into the garden. 

“We must be welcome now,” she said.

“Shut up, Miller.”

The door opened, and the red-haired woman, Antonia Crowley, was stood in front of them.

“You’re here,” she greeted them.

“Clearly,” Alec replied exasperatedly.

“Um… I should probably check…” the woman mumbled.  “I’m so sorry about this.”

She looked at Alec intently and he began to feel a strange tingling sensation like pins and needles in his mind, similar to but far less intense than the sensation he’d experienced when she first pinned him to the wall on the pier.  He braced himself for the agony that had followed that initial interaction, but none came.  This time the sensation abruptly ended, and Antonia turned to Miller.  Rubbing his head confusedly, Alec watched as his colleague appeared to experience something similar, her brows knitting, a jarring wince screwing up her face, and then rubbing her head in much the same way he was. 

“What the hell…?” he asked, not really sure how to phrase the question because he had so little information to start with.

“Like I said, I’m sorry.  You’re all clear, you can come in.”  She stepped back out of the way and allowed them to move past her into the cottage.    

Once they were all stood in the hallway, the woman looked him up and down again, just like she had on the pier.  At least, it felt like she did; she was still wearing her sunglasses.  Her arms were folded, and she seemed very tense.

“Tea or coffee?”

“Ooh, a tea would be lovely, thank you,” Miller answered.  The offer of refreshment always seemed to work wonders on her; her voice was the warmest it had yet been when conversing with the woman.  She really shouldn’t be so easily bought, especially after what had just happened on the doorstep. 

Alec could sense the redhead’s still concealed gaze on him, feeling keen and interrogative despite the sunglasses.

“Same,” he confirmed with a small sigh.  Miller would only be annoyed with him if he declined.  Besides, it was warm out, and the climb had made him thirsty. 

“Two teas, angel!” Antonia called loudly.  Then, in a quieter voice, she addressed her companions in the hallway.  “I mentioned our problem with familiar faces earlier.”  Hardy barely repressed another sigh, and did pull a face at the repeated reference to such a ridiculous topic, but the woman ignored his response.  “At that point, I didn’t quite give you all the information, but before you go into the living room… I should warn you.  You’re the fifth person we’ve known with your face.  One of them is the…” – she growled – “animal I mentioned earlier.  The others are friendly.”  She smirked then.  “Well, mostly.  And the likeness is… complete.  It can be a little bewildering on first meeting.” 

The woman seemed to look him up and down again, but more intensely this time, and Alec had the distinct impression that she was undressing him with her eyes.  It was not a feeling he was used to experiencing, and made him decidedly uncomfortable.  He could feel a blush rising on his cheeks. 

“Are you ready to come face to face with yourself, DI Hardy?” 

She pushed open a door at the left-hand side of the hallway, which Alec assumed must lead to the living room.  Arm outstretched towards it, she gestured for him to go through.  He hesitated though, the speech having shifted his opinion on the scenario from vaguely irritated to mildly alarmed. 

There was a huff beside him, and Miller marched towards the door in his stead. 

“Well, if you don’t want to solve this mystery, then I suppose I…”  She stopped dead just through the doorway.  “Bloody hell…”

Alec startled at her reaction, continuing to hover in the hallway, unsure whether he actually wanted to find out what, or who, might be in the living room. 

“Alec, get in here now.”

The use of his first name, for the second time in the past couple of hours, made his mind up.  He really didn’t want to know. 

“Oh, come on Alec.  Aren’t you curious?”  Antonia emphasised his name, cracking the hard ‘c’ on her tongue.  “You’re a detective, aren’t you?  Detect.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec moved closer to the door, fixing the woman with a glare as he passed.  He understood that they wouldn’t leave him alone until he’d faced whatever encounter he was about to have, and prepared himself to be underwhelmed.

Miller had moved further into the room, leaving space for him to enter.  She was staring towards the window, mouth hanging open in a way that only increased his annoyance. 

“Miller, don’t be so ridiculous, it can’t…”  His words vanished as his eyes found their way to the other figure in the room, and he was left forming inarticulate, embarrassingly high-pitched sounds in his  throat. 

He was not underwhelmed. 

“DI Hardy, this is the Doctor.  Doctor, this is Detective Inspector Alec Hardy of Wessex Police.”  Antonia had followed him into the room, and was offering the introductions from her current position, perched on the arm of a sofa to his left.  There was an amused tone to her voice. 

The man she’d just called the Doctor (and what kind of name was that?), stepped forward, holding his hand out in greeting. 

“Hello, DI Hardy.  Nice to meet you.”

Alec stared at the hand, quite forgetting what he was supposed to do with it.  He vaguely registered that the hand and its associated fingers were long and slender, like his own.  Eventually, he did manage to raise his hand and take the proffered one, simultaneously lifting his gaze back to the man’s face. 

He blinked several times, quite unable to process what he was seeing.  Now that he had the hand, he entirely failed to let go of it, and the other man had to extricate his own from Alec’s grasp.  While he was still watching dazedly, the man’s eyes turned to Miller.

“Oh, sorry,” Antonia exclaimed.  “DS Miller, the Doctor.  Doctor, DS Miller.”

“Lovely to meet you, DS Miller,” the Doctor said, holding his hand out. 

“Bloody hell,” Miller managed in return as she shook his hand, making the man laugh. 

Alec heard himself emit a squeak, and then felt hands on him, guiding him towards the sofa.  He allowed himself to be moved, not really capable of resisting, and by the time his brain caught up, Antonia was crouched in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I told you it’s a bit bewildering.  Don’t worry, it gets easier.”

Alec nodded absently.  His eyes followed the woman as she stood up, and then fixed on the man across the room again.  He couldn’t comprehend it.  The likeness was extraordinary, like looking in a mirror, although perhaps a mirror ten years ago, as the man appeared definitely younger than him.  And Alec had never actually looked like that; the man had hair that seemed to defy gravity in a (clearly very carefully crafted) mess of light brown spikes.  He was wearing a dark blue faintly pinstriped suit and red Converse, with a maroon-hued shirt and a tie patterned with stars and galaxies beneath the jacket.  They should probably put his photo beneath ‘smart casual’ in the dictionary. 

Alec felt irritated, and although a general sense of irritation was perfectly normal for him, and certainly to be expected right now, he realised that there was something more specific in it.  The man was pretty.  He was young, and had a very expressive face, and bright, inquisitive eyes (although they did look older than the rest of him somehow).  And he was pretty.  And he looked exactly like Alec.  Alec had never regarded himself as attractive, but to be put next to a person who wore his own face better than he did was somehow worse than being alongside any other attractive person. 

The man had very chivalrously offered Miller his arm, and was guiding her to a chair by the window.  Clearly he was also a flirt.  Great.

“Oh my!”

Alec turned to see the blond man from earlier stood in the doorway, carrying a plate of biscuits, which he placed on a small table next to an armchair, just across from where Alec was sat.  Standing in front of the armchair, he glanced between Alec and the Doctor.  “Having been absent from your little sojourn in Venice, this is quite a remarkable sight,” he commented as he sat down.  Once seated, he appeared to gather himself.  “Thank you for coming, detectives.”

Another man entered the room then, the small space beginning to feel quite crowded.  The newcomer was tall and handsome, with dark hair, and was wearing navy trousers, a lighter blue shirt, and braces.  He was carrying a tray with six cups.  Having placed it on a coffee table in front of the fireplace, directly opposite the sofa Alec was sat on, he turned and offered his hand. 

“Cap’n Jack Harkness.  Pleasure to meet you…”  His voice, which presented an American accent Alec noticed, trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow in question.  Alec was much more successful in remembering his manners this time, and took the man’s hand, receiving a very firm handshake.

“DI Hardy.”

“Love the accent,” Jack commented with a flirtatious grin.  “And the face,” he added with a wink.  Alec wriggled in his seat a little uncomfortably.  He wasn’t used to being flirted with by a handsome man.  Or any man.  Or any human at all for that matter. 

Jack turned to Miller next.  She was smiling at him delightedly.  She must have noticed that he was handsome. 

“DS Miller.  You can call me Ellie,” she said, returning Jack’s handshake warmly.  For some reason she gave a little giggle just before the man let go of her hand.  Then she grinned, glancing quickly between Jack and the Doctor.  Alec was momentarily confused, but then recalled her mentioning that when she’d first encountered their hosts in the restaurant on Saturday evening, they’d been discussing some friends of theirs, apparently a gay couple, and quite openly referencing certain… private aspects of their relationship.  He remembered the names, and understood that it was the handsome man and the pretty one who looked like him who were the couple in question.  He felt his cheeks warming with a blush again.  He didn’t quite know why that made him blush.

By this point, Antonia was sitting on the arm of the blond man’s chair (Alec was trying to remember his name; he’d introduced himself on the pier but it was an odd name and he’d been quite distracted…), and the Doctor had moved to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Alec.  Jack returned to the coffee table.

“How do you take your tea, detectives?” he asked, picking up a little jug of milk.  They made their requests and he followed the instructions, handing them their drinks first, before passing the others theirs without asking, clearly already knowing their preferences.  Eventually, with his own drink in hand, he placed himself in the middle of the sofa, between Alec and the Doctor.

“Trust you to pick that spot, Jack,” Antonia remarked with a smirk.  Alec’s blush brightened, and he began to feel increasingly annoyed by it. 

“Hush, love.  Jack doesn’t need any encouragement, and I don’t want our guests to feel uncomfortable.”  It was the blond man who spoke (Az… it began, but Alec hadn’t quite caught the rest), placing a gentle hand on Antonia’s thigh. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you explained why we’re all here,” the Doctor requested in a quiet, tense voice, and Alec felt that tension drop like a weighted blanket across the entire room.  It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes,” the blond man agreed.  “Crowley?”

Sliding off the arm of the chair, Antonia stalked across the room, and approached the window, where she stood with her arms folded, gazing out over the sea through the small gap in the curtains.  She let out a long, loud sigh before she spoke.

“Kilgrave’s back,” she announced. 

Alec noticed the instant reaction of his companions on the sofa; a clear stiffening, the Doctor seizing Jack’s thigh with a tight grip, and Jack placing a hand over his partner’s almost as tightly.  There was a quiet breath of ‘no’ from both men. 

The statement meant much less to Alec and Miller though. 

“Is that the ‘evil doppelgänger’?” Miller asked. 

“Yep,” Antonia confirmed.

“And that’s as uncanny as these two?”

“Worse.  He’s closer to your DI’s age, so it’s even more pronounced.  Just no beard, only short stubble, and his suits fit better, more expensively cut.  He wears a lot of purple.”

Alec brushed a hand down his jacket a little self-consciously, once again only mildly offended.  He was working.  This was not London Fashion Week.

“His presence seems to have provoked quite a response,” he suggested, finally finding his voice.  “What has he allegedly done?  Should we be concerned for public safety?”

Antonia’s body tensed and she continued to stare out of the window. 

“Aziraphale,” she said, and Alec suddenly remembered; that was the blond man’s name. 

“You may have to keep an open mind about a few things, detectives,” Aziraphale warned them.

“You don’t say,” Alec muttered.  The other man cleared his throat before continuing.

“Kilgrave has the ability to control the minds and actions of others.  He is extremely dangerous; no empathy or moral compass at all.  A serial murderer and…”  His breath seemed to catch in his throat, and his eyes glistened suddenly with tears.  There was silence for a moment before Antonia’s voice sounded from across the room.

“And a rapist,” the woman supplied, her voice completely stripped of emotion.  She turned and fixed her still-shielded gaze intently on Alec.  “Yes, you should be very worried for public safety.”

Alec considered the things he’d just heard, immediately inferring that the woman who was conspicuously absent from this meeting (understandably given her reaction to seeing him earlier), must have been assaulted by the man under discussion.  A man who looked exactly like him by all accounts.  That made him feel extremely uncomfortable.  Just being a man as an investigating officer during sexual assault cases was bad enough, creating a feeling of guilt-by-association that he hated, but to look identical to the suspect…  

“Those are very serious allegations,” he replied.  There was no response from any of the others, and the atmosphere felt very thick.  Normally such a silence would stretch out into awkwardness, but this one pressed back on itself, only intensifying and building into something that made it difficult to breathe.  As it became stifling, his brain finally landed on the other thing Aziraphale had said, and he glanced over at Miller, who was staring at him, clearly waiting for him to say something.  For once, he wished that she would begin asking questions; she was usually so full of them.  He swallowed and cleared his throat.  “Mind control?” he asked, trying and entirely failing to sound casual.  He mostly just managed to sound exhausted.

“Yes,” Aziraphale confirmed. 

After several further moments of silence, Alec groaned.

“That’s not… there’s no such thing…”

Antonia moved back into the centre of the room and pulled something out of her jacket pocket.  It was the pendant from earlier, and she held it in front of her, letting it dangle on the end of its chain.  There was a gasp from the couple sitting next to Alec when they saw it. 

“Earlier, on the pier,” the woman began, speaking directly to Alec, “you saw me experiment with this.  Tell me what you saw.”

“Um…”  He hesitated, running through the memory in his head.  Shit… she’d mentioned it then.  Mind control.  And she’d… well, Miller had acted very strangely.  “I don’t…”

“You know what you saw, Alec,” Antonia insisted.  Her tone made him feel like he was the one being interrogated.

Everyone in the room was staring at him now, and he was blushing again.

“You… did you?”  He glanced at Miller again, who was looking wide-eyed and frankly terrified.  She’d realised.  Alec stood up, abandoning his mug of tea on a small table next to the sofa, anger surging through him even as he still didn’t quite understand.  “What did you do to her?”

There was no response.  He turned to his DS again.  “Miller, why did you walk up and down the pier?”

She shook her head.

“I told her to,” Antonia answered for her.  “And then I asked her to wear this pendant.  And then I instructed her to walk up and down the pier again.  Which she did.”

“It’s not working?” the Doctor queried faintly.  Antonia shook her head.  Then she swung the pendant back up into her hand, caught it easily and put it back into her pocket.

“I believe it’s a fake, actually.  It seems to have been delivered to Zee on the pier earlier.  She had a panic attack, and these two stopped to help her.  As you can imagine, that didn’t exactly improve the situation.”

“So she saw the pendant… and then she saw him?” Jack asked, inclining his head towards Alec.  There was another nod from Antonia.  “Fuck.”

“She’s asleep.  At present, she’s not fully aware of what’s happened,” Aziraphale explained, apparently hoping to reassure their friends. 

“Alec?” Antonia said, still focused on him.  He’d been staring at her, but hearing the conversation going on around him, and could only manage an awkward noise in his throat by way of reply.  “Alec, before that.  You felt me in your head…”

“It hurt…” he responded, very quietly and without really knowing he was speaking. 

“Yeah.  Sorry about that.  I thought you were Kilgrave.  I was trying to disable his power, and… well…”  She cleared her throat in lieu of completing the sentence. 

“You tried to kill me?”

“Well…”

“Did you hurt Miller?”  He was more conscious of his speech now, and angry.

“No.  It was far more gentle.  Would’ve felt like…”

“Pins and needles, inside my head,” Miller interrupted, seeming to suddenly catch up with the discussion.  “Didn’t hurt.  Felt a bit weird.” 

“Yeah.”

“But… I felt that again,” Miller continued, “when we arrived here, just before you let us in.”

“Me too,” Alec added quietly, staring grimly at Antonia with very narrowed eyes.

“I had to check you weren’t under his influence.  Looking inside your heads is the only way to do that.  I’m sorry.”

Alec sat down again, not convinced his legs would continue to hold him. 

“I think we might need you to provide a more thorough explanation,” he requested.  “And you can begin by telling me why I should be worried about this Kilgrave, but not worried about you.”

Chapter Text

Crowley provided a lengthy explanation, with additions from Aziraphale and occasional interjections from the Doctor and Jack.  It encompassed a brief history of the relationship between himself, Aziraphale, and their partner (although not yet clarifying anything regarding Crowley’s own gender, nor Aziraphale and Crowley’s natures as angel and demon), followed by a basic narrative of what had happened in New York (remaining deliberately vague on flying and miracles), with as little detail regarding the more intimate assaults upon Zee by Kilgrave as possible, although enough to make the detectives understand. 

For the benefit of the Doctor and Jack, Crowley continued the narrative up until today, explaining as best he could, with help at this point from Miller (but not Hardy, who sat in stony silence), what had taken place on the pier.  Their friends listened in horror, Jack maintaining his composure with difficulty (seeming to feel it necessary to keep himself together for his partner’s sake), while the Doctor struggled to hide his devastation.  Once they’d reached the present, Crowley asked if anybody had any questions.

Alec cleared his throat, and Crowley raised an eyebrow in slightly reluctant encouragement.  He was keen to proceed onto making a plan to find and deal with Kilgrave, and didn’t really want to get bogged down in questions, although he’d asked out of politeness.

“Since we’re apparently,” Alec began, “in the absence of any better explanation at the present time, accepting your story about mind control… can I just clarify a couple of other points?”  Crowley nodded, and watched Alec swallow hard before continuing.  “Your car… it doesn’t…”  He sighed, definitely unable to believe that he was actually asking this question, and exasperated by the whole scenario.  “It doesn’t…”

“It doesn’t show up on CCTV,” Miller supplied.  “You almost knocked him down the other night, but the CCTV just shows him jumping back from the road, no car at all.”  She shrugged.  “Quite amusing actually.”

Crowley smiled. 

“She doesn’t really like to be watched.”

Alec stared at him blankly.

“What?” he eventually managed.

“She chooses not to be visible, because she doesn’t want to be observed,” Crowley elaborated, deliberately unhelpfully.

“Crowley, be fair,” Aziraphale scolded, “You’re tormenting the poor man.”

“I’m just keeping my explanations simple, angel,” Crowley whined.  The angel pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow in warning. 

“Also,” Ellie started up again, “Hardy tried to visit this cottage, to speak with you about the incident.  He… well, it wasn’t easy to…”

“Oh,” Crowley said, eyes widening with sudden comprehension.  “That was you.”  There was a strong sense of amusement in the response.  Alec looked up at him in confusion.

“I came up here and knocked on the door.  You weren’t in.  Nothing happened.”

“Did you have the strangest, quite urgent desire to leave?”  After a few seconds battling with himself, Alec nodded. 

“I came again.  But I couldn’t…”

“Let me guess.  You suddenly remembered that you had somewhere else to be, extremely urgently?”

Another bewildered nod, Alec frowning with irritation.  Crowley forced his lips into a narrow line, in an attempt to prevent himself laughing.

“But today…”

“You didn’t feel a thing?” Crowley suggested lightly, raising a questioning eyebrow high on his forehead.  Alec glared at him, the very tiniest hint of a nod visible. 

Glancing at Aziraphale again, Crowley confirmed that they were going to need to provide further explanations if they were to secure the assistance of the two humans.  With a sigh, he proceeded to introduce himself and his angel, a small part of him rather enjoying the persistent, incredulous stares of both Hardy and Miller as he talked about angels and demons. 

At the end, Alec snorted and then dropped his head into his hands with a groan.  Miller’s face was frozen into a look of astonishment, but she recovered first, laughing.

“Right.  Next you’ll be telling me that these two really are aliens!” she scoffed, pointing towards the Doctor and Jack.  Crowley’s mouth dropped open, completely unable to explain how she’d come to that basically accurate conclusion, unaware as he was of the fact she’d overheard their conversation on Saturday evening.

Jack grinned.

“With a clarification on your definition of alien, yes.  Neither of us are from Earth originally.  Although I am human.  He ticks both boxes.  Far more exotic.”  He nodded towards the Doctor, who offered a weak smile, staring down at his own lap.  He seemed deeply unhappy, and Crowley understood.  The demon lowered his guards a fraction and offered some comfort, something like the feeling of a warm hug, and the Time Lord raised his eyes, returning an acknowledgement of the affectionate gesture through their bond.

“Bloody hell,” Miller exclaimed.  “I was joking!  But… you really are…”  She shook her head slowly, unable to complete the idea.  Alec’s head remained in his hands.

“Can we get on with planning what we’re going to do about Kilgrave, please?” Crowley requested.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked.  The demon turned, waiting for his husband to continue.  “I had the opportunity to give this some thought, while I was encouraging Zee to sleep.  Obviously, we need to locate Kilgrave urgently, for the safety of everyone in the town, as well as our dear girl.  But I also think we should attempt to retrieve the original pendant.  For long term security of course, but also… if we can get it first, it may prove useful.  We know we can’t be controlled, but… others assisting us can.”

“It’s highly unlikely he can control me,” the Doctor asserted.  “A Time Lord’s mental strength far exceeds that of a human.”

“He’s powerful, Doctor,” Crowley warned.  “Without a strong personal connection, or me drawing on huge reserves, his control is more powerful than mine.”

“Still.  You know my strength, Crowley.  If I’m expecting him, I can keep him out.”

Crowley raised his hand to his face and removed his sunglasses, ignoring the gasp from Miller as she saw his eyes for the first time.  Alec looked up at the sound, saw the golden colour and long, slitted pupils, and seemed to forget how to breathe, his own eyes widening.  He glanced between the four beings he had only recently met, quite clearly attempting to assimilate all the information he had learned, but struggling to accept it.    

The demon watched him briefly, then locked eyes with the Doctor.

“Care to test it?” he asked. 

“Go on.”  The Doctor lowered his guards, and they both flinched at the renewed intensity of their reflected emotions; mostly fear and panic currently, the Doctor’s feelings layered with sadness at yet another setback in his desire to be reunited with Zee.

Crowley pushed into the Doctor’s mind.  He was familiar with the feel of it, the vast expanse in comparison to a human, although it made it difficult, with the Doctor, to know where he should position himself to attempt control.  Just as he was wondering how he could fathom it, he felt a nudge; the Doctor encouraging him into just the right place. 

‘There, Crowley.  Try it now.’

Crowley instructed him to stand up.

The Doctor didn’t move, staring up at the demon with a small smile just barely curving his lips. 

Crowley tried again, using a bit more power this time.  There was still no response from the Doctor, other than a slightly more obvious smile, and Crowley began to feel it now; the Doctor’s resistance.  The demon could also feel the eyes of everyone else on them, watching this test of the Doctor’s susceptibility to Crowley’s control with interest.  Jack’s eyes in particular were trained on his partner with acute concern. 

More power.  Still no response, although the Doctor flinched slightly, the sensation of the demon inside his head becoming more intense. 

Gradually, Crowley increased his power, just like he had way back on their nebula-neighbouring planet all those months ago, when he’d searched through the Time Lord’s memories.  Eventually, it became clear that the Doctor was in pain, his brow knitted, jaw clenched, tears pricking at his eyes, but he still showed no sign of acquiescing to Crowley’s instruction. 

“Enough, Crowley,” Aziraphale insisted.  “From what I can sense, you’re using more than enough power to simulate Kilgrave’s control.  We can assume that the Doctor is able to resist.”

Crowley allowed his power to roll back, retracting it from the mind of his friend and lover.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok, had to be done.’

Jack wrapped an arm around his partner, drawing him close.

“You ok, Doc?”

The Doctor nodded but allowed himself to be comforted by Jack, just for a moment.  Crowley watched, happily observing the love between the pair as Jack pressed a tender kiss into the Time Lord’s hair.  Then, all too soon, the Doctor took a deep breath and straightened, taking control of the situation.  He stared at Alec thoughtfully, and then glanced between Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Kilgrave doesn’t know we’re here,” he stated with a slightly questioning tone.  “You asked us to park in the kitchen, so he wouldn’t know.”

Crowley smiled at the phrasing, knowing it would be increasing the bafflement of their guests.

“That’s correct,” he confirmed.

“But…” the Time Lord said, shooting Alec another quick look, “we have to assume he observed everything that took place on the pier, or has been told about it.  So, he presumably knows about Hardy, who is now, as far as Kilgrave is concerned, an expendable human who he can control, and who looks like him.”

Crowley gazed at the Doctor curiously, beginning to see a vague outline of where he might be going with this. 

“He’ll probably be keen to get his hands on Hardy, right?” the Doctor continued.

“That would make sense.”

“What if he did?  Only… it wasn’t actually Hardy.  It was someone who looks like him… but can’t be controlled.”

“Doc… you can’t…”  The Doctor placed a firm hand on Jack’s thigh, a silent request for him to be quiet and trust him.  Jack obeyed, placing his own hand over the Doctor’s, and feeling the slow stroke of an elegant thumb over the back of it in response.  Crowley saw that an entire conversation took place in just those few touches.

“You don’t quite look like Hardy, not completely,” the demon pointed out.

The Doctor shrugged.

“Easily sorted.  It would work though.  If I could get close to him, I’d be able to learn more about what he’s up to.  I might even be able to get close to the pendant, and take it.”

“Swap it for the fake,” Aziraphale suggested.  “Play his own game against him.”

“You’d have to pretend he can control you,” Crowley warned.  The plan was clever, but not without its problems.  “That’s a very dangerous game, Doctor.” 

“I can take more than a human could, enough to prove he’s in control, without causing too much damage.  He wouldn’t want to kill Hardy, I shouldn’t think.  He’s too valuable an asset.  Most dangerous thing I can foresee, is that he’d try to use me as a lookalike for him, playing our game against us.”     

“Doc,” Jack pleaded.  “This is dangerous.  We should think about it.”

The Doctor turned to his partner, stroking the immortal’s smooth cheek and gazing at him lovingly.  Crowley noticed that Alec was watching them very intently, blushing at the display.  He’d been following the discussion with fascination. 

“For Zee, Jack.  I can do something this time.  I have to.”  Jack slowly and reluctantly nodded his understanding.  The Doctor became uncomfortable then and Crowley sensed that he knew Jack wasn’t going to like the next part of his plan either.  “It’s also necessary for you to remain here with Zee.  Somebody needs to take care of her and it makes sense for it to be you.  She trusts you, and it also keeps you out of Kilgrave’s sight, to protect the narrative that we’re not here.”

“So you go out there risking everything, while I sit at home where it’s safe…”  Jack’s voice carried a hint of stubborn petulance and his bottom lip curled in that very Jack way it did sometimes.

“You must see how it helps the plan?  You can’t be seen; he knows what we look like.  And it’s dangerous Jack.  We’ve talked about how your own… power or condition or whatever you want to call it, makes some situations dangerous.  If he knew what you can do, he would have the easiest way to derail our intentions, and he’s just as unlikely to flinch at the idea as the Master was.  I can’t risk that happening.  For Zee’s sake, Jack, if not for your own.  Please.”

Crowley understood the Doctor’s point perfectly: Kilgrave wouldn’t blink at the idea of ordering Jack to kill himself in untold awful ways to distract his friends from their plan, if he discovered that each time, Jack would revive, pristine and ready to do it all again.  They all cared for Jack, so it would be such an easy, efficient way to hurt them all, but it would break the Doctor.  And Jack knew that. 

“He has previous, Jack,” Crowley added.  “He understands that attacking our consciences is a useful way for him to gain an advantage.  Attacking our hearts at the same time?  He’d think he’d won the jackpot.”  The demon flinched.  “No pun intended,” he added with a hard eye roll.

Sighing, Jack nodded. 

“Ok.  I get it.”

“Right.”  The Doctor leaned in and kissed Jack; a firm, lingering kiss.  Crowley’s eyes instinctively slid across to Alec, who had averted his gaze, blushing brightly, and the demon smiled.  The Time Lord whispered something into Jack’s ear, rose to his feet, and gave a little wriggle to loosen his limbs, a gesture that most of the individuals in the room knew was one he used to disguise his anxiety and appear at ease.  “Won’t be long,” he announced, and walked out of the room.

Jack clasped his hands nervously on his thighs, staring at them.  There was silence, and then the wheezing sound that told them the Tardis was leaving.  Having heard that, Jack pushed himself up from the sofa. 

“He won’t be long,” he reiterated.  Then he fixed Crowley with the full power of his bright blue eyes.  “Look after him, Crowley.”  The demon nodded, intimidated.  “I’m going to go and sit with Zee.  She’ll see a friendly face when she wakes.” 

With that, he left.  Crowley was stunned.  The Doctor must have said something magical to him after that kiss, because Jack was rarely this docile, although the demon understood that their dynamic ‘at work’ was different to their personal one; perhaps the Doctor had simply shifted them into work mode, where he was in charge.

“What’s happening?” Alec asked then, finally unable to contain all the curiosity that must have been building for some time.

Crowley shrugged.

“Not absolutely sure.”

“He’s going to pretend to be me?”

“Apparently.”

“And what do you expect me to do?”

“He won’t be long,” the demon repeated, clearing his throat when he realised that he was parroting the line both the Doctor and Jack had previously delivered.  “We’ll have to keep you hidden, I suppose.”

“But I need to work.  Especially if there’s a murderer and rapist on the loose!”

“I don’t know,” Ellie said.  “He seems smart.  He can do it for you.  I’ll have a younger, less annoying partner for once.”

Crowley laughed, only laughing harder when he saw the extremely affronted expression on Alec’s face.  Then he bit his lip, cocking his head thoughtfully.

“Don’t count on him being less annoying,” he advised.

There was silence for a few moments.  Crowley took the opportunity to sprawl on the recently vacated end of the sofa, receiving an alarmed glance from Alec who was taking up as little space as possible at the other end. 

“Would anybody like more tea?” Aziraphale offered, more in an attempt to break the tension of the silence than anything.  The question was answered with a chorus of head shakes. 

Then the quiet was more effectively shattered by the wheezing sound again.

“What is that?” Alec asked, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him again.

“Tardis,” Crowley answered, extremely vaguely. 

“The Doctor’s spaceship.  And time machine,” Aziraphale elaborated, although how much that actually assisted the detective’s understanding was debatable. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and a figure entered.  Everyone turned to look.

The responses were varied.  A strangled yelp from Alec, squeal from Ellie, astonished gasp from Aziraphale, and something like a half bitten-back spluttering chuckle from Crowley.

The figure moved further into the room, standing in the centre and performing a little pirouette with his arms held out.

“Well?  How do I look?”  The second part of the speech was delivered in a slightly comical Scottish accent.  Alec made another incoherent choking sound.

They all understood that the newcomer was actually the Doctor returning from a very brief absence, and the angel and demon could further infer that the Time Lord’s own experience of the trip in the Tardis was far less brief than theirs.  Long enough that he’d grown a beard, the same length as the scruffy one that Alec wore.  The usually chaotic spikes of his hair had been smoothed down and mussed into a ‘style’ more closely approximating the DI’s, and he was now wearing a slightly ill-fitting navy suit with white shirt and plain tie, and smart shoes instead of his usual Converse.  He still looked younger than Alec, but otherwise the resemblance was so extensively complete that even Aziraphale and Crowley found it unnerving, more used as they were to seeing double. 

Ellie jumped up, moving closer to inspect him.  She circled him slowly, and the Doctor had a vaguely satisfied smile on his face as she did so.

“Bloody hell… that’s… wow…”

The Doctor made an uncertain sound before continuing in the new accent.

“Weeelll… the suit’s a bit boring.  Could do with some pinstripes, if you ask me.”  He glanced down at it disapprovingly.

Crowley turned his gaze towards Alec, who was staring wide-eyed at the transformation of the Doctor, looking deeply uncomfortable. 

“Like looking in a mirror?” the demon queried.

Alec swallowed thickly before replying.  It was definitely worth the wait though.

“Fuck,” he eventually uttered, and Crowley laughed.

“What do you think, angel?  Will he pass?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow archly, then gave his nose a small scrunch.

“Might need to work on the accent,” he said.  The Doctor’s head whipped round to look at him. 

“Oi!  I worked hard on this!” he protested, sounding Scottish, although not necessarily quite like Alec.

“How long were you gone, dear?”

“Ten days.”

“What?” Ellie asked, after taking a second to process the very casual exchange between angel and Time Lord.  The Doctor looked at her, which she seemed to find quite strange, given how uncannily it was like being looked at by her colleague. 

“I was gone for ten days, although I returned to only a couple of minutes after I left so as not to delay us in dealing with our problem.”  He shrugged.  “Needed long enough to grow the beard.”

“What?” the woman reiterated.

“Time machine,” Alec murmured quietly, remembering what Aziraphale had said just before the Doctor had returned.  Ellie gazed at the Doctor in continued disbelief.  Then she leaned in closer and studied his face.

“Do you mind…?” she asked, reaching towards his chin.  The Doctor shook his head, smiling, and she placed her fingers on his face, tugging lightly on the beard and giving it a very close inspection.  Straightening, she exhaled deeply.  “That’s a real beard,” she confirmed.  “I guess… he’s telling the truth.”

Alec hummed sceptically, shaking his head.

“Until we have a better explanation, we’ll work on that basis.”  He raised his eyes to the Doctor’s and frowned.  “If you’re going to be pretending to be me, you’ll have to cut stuff like that out.”  He nodded towards Ellie.

“What?”  The Doctor’s pronunciation was exactly like Alec’s this time, and the real Alec blinked in response, his surprise delaying his answer.

“Letting her touch you like that.  No way I’d let her do that.”

The Doctor grinned, which despite the short length of their acquaintance, Crowley instinctively found incongruous on ‘Alec’s’ face. 

“That’s the spirit!  Any other advice?  Come on, give me a crash course in being Detective Inspector Alec Hardy!”

Crowley rolled his eyes hard.  Lesson number one was easy; the Doctor’s enthusiasm was going to have to go.

*

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Crowley?”

The demon glanced quickly at his angel, hand pausing on the bedroom door.  He sighed.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“The whole plan is very dangerous,” Aziraphale insisted, concern written all over his features. 

“We need to try and get the upper hand.  He’s always one step ahead, and surprising us the way he has…”  Crowley shrugged.  “The Doctor is very capable.  It’s dangerous, yes.  But it’s our best hope of getting the information we want.”

“He’ll have to convince people who know Hardy well.”

“Trust him, angel.  He’s smart.  And brave.”

“Or foolhardy.”

Crowley smirked briefly and winked at his husband.

“No angel, Hardy is the one person he doesn’t need to fool.” 

The angel rolled his eyes, and Crowley turned and knocked softly on the door, before pushing it open. 

Inside, Jack was sat on a comfortable armchair by the window, watching Zee sleep, the curtain drawn enough to shield him from view should anybody look from the outside.  He looked tense and anxious, eyes red-rimmed where he’d obviously allowed his emotions to leak out while he was essentially alone.  His gaze found Crowley’s as he entered.

“Hey,” the demon greeted.

“She’s still asleep.”

“That’s ok.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley into the room and sat on the bed, brushing a hand gently through their partner’s hair.  He smiled over at Jack before focusing all of his attention on Zee, carefully gathering her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“What have I missed?” Jack asked Crowley who was perched on the corner of the bed.

“Well, your boyfriend’s got into his detective inspector cosplay.”  He considered for a moment.  “The scruffy look… it’s kind of sexy actually.”  Crowley pulled a face at his own suggestion.  “Wait… am I saying Hardy is sexy?  Or is it just that the Doctor pulls it off well?  Perhaps it’s in the attitude?”  He scowled thoughtfully and Jack laughed.

“He’s objectively attractive.  Course he is; looks just like you two.  ‘Cept for the beard… be intrigued to know how that feels…”

“Well there are now two of them downstairs.”

“Under different circumstances, I’d be right there,” Jack admitted with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  He shifted his gaze to Aziraphale, who was continuing to stroke his hand through Zee’s hair.  She was beginning to stir in his arms; it seemed he was gently waking her.  “Why are you here?” he asked quietly, returning his eyes to the demon.  Crowley pulled the pendant from his pocket and let Jack see it, keeping it cautiously hidden from Zee’s view should she open her eyes at that moment. 

“Need to verify it’s definitely a copy and not just defective,” he whispered.  Jack nodded his understanding.

“Will she be ok?”

“Probably not.  But we need to know, and we’ll do everything we can to keep her calm.”

“What can I do?”

“Take the other side, so she’s got you and Aziraphale.  I’ll stay here.”  

Jack moved to sit on the bed, on the side opposite the angel.  Zee’s hand was resting on the blanket, and he took it into his own, holding it snugly. 

“I’m going to keep her as calm as possible, Jack.  But keep holding her; it’ll certainly help.”  Aziraphale gave Jack a tight, nervous smile, and Jack nodded.  Zee was becoming gradually conscious, her eyes just beginning to flicker.  She moaned softly, snuggling closer to her angel, and her three companions watched, all of them with racing hearts and stuttering breaths. 

Eventually, apparently realising that although she was in Aziraphale’s arms, it was not his hand that hers was clasped in, Zee opened her eyes fully, turning her head slightly.  She initially smiled when she saw it was Jack, but then her eyes widened and she visibly tensed.

“Jack?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“W- what… why?  Is…?”

“Zee,” Crowley called from the foot of the bed, standing now.  She turned her wide-eyed, anxious gaze to him instead.  Memories appeared to be flooding into her mind now; her breathing was becoming more ragged and fast, and there was panic in her eyes. 

“He…  I saw…”

“You’re safe, my love,” Aziraphale said very softly, stroking her hair.  The faint glow of a blessing was the only visible sign that the angel was helping calm her; her muscles becoming less tense, and her breathing remaining fast but not dangerously so.  “Do you remember what happened on the pier?”

She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

“P- pendant,” she whispered. 

“Yes, dearest.”

Zee shook slightly in the angel’s arms.  Crowley turned the pendant over in his hand; he was holding it behind his back, out of sight.

“And… there was… there was a woman.  And a… he… he…”  She couldn’t complete the thought, her breaths becoming more gasping again, although not spiralling due to Aziraphale’s continued intervention. 

“It wasn’t him, sweetheart,” Crowley reassured her.  “The woman and the man were police officers; they came to help you.  He… he looks like us though.  He’s a doppelgänger, Zee.  Do you understand?”

Opening her eyes again, she contemplated her demon with frightened eyes. 

“Another one?” she gasped faintly. 

Crowley nodded.  He saw that Aziraphale held her a bit tighter, and that Jack winced slightly, wrapping his free hand around Zee’s that was gripping his other far too tightly.

“Zee, dearest… we think the pendant is a copy.  It doesn’t work as it should.”

“But to confirm that it isn’t the original, sweetheart, we need an expert to check it out.”

“If you’re able, love.  Only if you think you can.”

Zee looked between her partners, her breathing remaining steady at its heightened but safe rate. 

“You want me to look at it?” she asked, eyes landing back on Crowley, who nodded.  She swallowed again, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.  “There… there was a message, w- with the pendant.”

Her companions couldn’t hide their shock at that announcement, quick glances being exchanged between them. 

“What kind of message, love?” Aziraphale questioned.

“Um… an apology.  And… he… a hope that I m- might f- forgive him.”

Their gasps were audible, and Aziraphale acted quickly to keep Zee calm.  He took a deep breath himself before asking his next question.

“Who gave the pendant to you, Zee?”

“A woman; a stranger.  She sat next to me.  Checked who I was.  Then gave it to me.  With the message.”  She gave Crowley a pleading look.  “Is… this means… he’s here?”  The final two words were barely aloud, they were uttered so quietly. 

“We don’t know for sure.”

“But… the man?  The policeman?”

“Definitely not him.  I promise, sweetheart.  I checked.”

Aziraphale kissed her again.

“You’re safe here, dearest.  God herself couldn’t get through these wards.”

Zee nodded.

“I… I’ll look.”

Crowley brought his hand back around to his front, the pendant grasped tightly and still not visible. 

“Sure?” 

She nodded again, and the demon leaned forward, Jack reaching across to take the pendant from him.  Zee’s eyes followed it closely, just glimpsing the chain that was partially dangling from Jack’s hand.  She held out her own, lifting her gaze to his and giving another quick nod, before returning her focus to the object that he placed in her palm.  She sucked in some slow, deep breaths, making her own effort to keep calm, backed up by all the magic her angel could provide.  Trembling slightly, she raised her hand and inspected the pendant more closely, eyes narrowed.

“I… I could really use a loupe.”

After a small, downward gesture, Aziraphale held out the equipment she’d requested, placing the small magnifying lens in the hand she disentangled from Jack’s.  She was shaking, and both her angel and Jack caressed her shoulders supportively.  Following another deep breath, she opened the lens, lifted it to her eye and held up the pendant for a closer inspection.  She studied it carefully for a while, rotating it between her fingers to view different angles.  There was no indication of her conclusions apart from a couple of small shakes of her head, until she was finished.  Dropping both hands onto her lap, she sighed.

“You’re right; this isn’t my pendant.”

“Are you certain?” Jack asked.  Crowley understood his anxiety; he didn’t want the Doctor walking into danger without full knowledge of what could be achieved.  Zee nodded.

“It’s a decent copy, but the original is a handmade antique.  This piece was cast from a CAD file, probably after the real thing was scanned into the computer program.  There are signs that indicate that production method; where the original had tool marks, this one has remnants of the build lines from the 3-D printed model, created from the CAD file.”

“And the stone?”

“Synthetic.  They’ve tried to copy the overall shape of the original, but it isn’t quite so rough around the back.  It’s impressive… but not quite right.”  She turned to Aziraphale.  “Could I have a UV torch?”  The angel materialised a small UV lamp, and Zee smiled at him.  “Thanks.”  She pointed it at the pendant and pressed the button to turn it on.  The stone gave a faint yellow glow, and Zee’s smile grew, although it was only brief, as her enthusiasm for the gemmological detective work she loved faded in the face of her knowledge of the reason for it.  “The original has a unique bright purple fluorescence,” she explained, exhaling a long, slow, shaky breath.  Then she passed the loupe and torch back to Aziraphale and leaned across to pass the pendant back to Crowley, who picked it up and returned it to his pocket. 

“Thank you, Zee,” Aziraphale said, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.  She returned the embrace, clinging to him.  Despite tensing her muscles to hold on, there was a tremor running through her body.  “Do you think it would be helpful to sleep some more, love?” 

She pulled back, nodding.  There were tears in her eyes.  “There are things we need to do, dear.  Snuggle up with Jack though; he’ll take good care of you.” 

Jack lay down so Zee could rest her head on his shoulder and snuggle close.  He wrapped his arms around her, and felt her relaxing as Aziraphale’s magic lulled her to a restful sleep.  The angel gave her a lingering look full of concern, then shuffled off the bed and stood up.  Crowley moved towards the door, joining his angel.

“We’ll keep you updated as much as we can,” the demon advised.  “Let us know if you need anything.”

Jack nodded, fixing Crowley with an intent gaze, something just short of a glare. 

“Please look after him,” he requested.  Crowley nodded, and then he and the angel left, closing the door behind them.

“If the Doctor can pull this off, it will be extremely helpful to our cause,” the demon reiterated as they descended the stairs.  “Getting that pendant back, especially if he doesn’t realise we have it, could be a significant advantage.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale agreed.  “Let’s just hope his acting skills are up to it.”

Chapter Text

“Can we trust her not to land us in the arse-end of nowhere?” Crowley enquired, imbuing his voice with sarcasm but also making it evident that the question was genuine.  “Or the wrong century?” he added.

The Doctor glared at him initially, but then his features softened. 

“She knows we’re trying to keep Zee safe.  So I’m confident she’ll do whatever is necessary to make that happen, including short trips to create some safe bases for us to work from.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec interjected, appearing confused.  “She?”

“The Doctor’s ship is sentient,” Crowley explained.  “She’s a rather contrary female.  Or at least acts like one.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m really struggling to keep up here,” Ellie complained.  She’d spent the past half hour bickering with Alec as they tried to teach the Doctor some of the most important habits and traits he’d need to demonstrate if he was going to persuade the world that he was Detective Inspector Hardy of Wessex Police.  Discussion of the Time Lord’s spaceship, along with the implication that they were going to travel in it to go and place protective wards on locations that would then provide safe havens from Kilgrave, was therefore proving a bit much for her already overtaxed brain to process. 

The Doctor sighed.

“Look, you don’t need to fully understand it.  Just go with the flow, and we’ll have time for a Q&A later.”

“But you expect us to get into your…” – Alec exhaled heavily, obviously using the word with reluctance – “spaceship…”

“She’s also a time machine,” the Doctor pointed out with a grin.  Alec glared at him.

“You expect us to get into your spaceship.  We at least need to know it’s safe.  I have a responsibility to keep this town safe.”

“I know.  That’s why we’re doing this.  And we’re travelling by Tardis to avoid being observed.”  The Doctor didn’t appear to understand Alec’s point.  The detective groaned.

“Yes. But we can’t just…  Is it likely we’ll end up in the wrong place or time?”  He sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his hands over his face.  “I can’t believe that’s even a question I’m asking.”

The Doctor shrugged, which Alec didn’t observe because his face was still buried in his hands.  Ellie was not reassured by it though.

“Look, Doctor…” she began, but he interrupted her almost immediately.

“When it really matters, she’s usually reliable.  And if she doesn’t take us where we ask, there will be good reason for it.  That’s all I can promise.”

“But will we be safe?” she insisted.

“You won’t be safe in Broadchurch if you don’t do this,” Crowley interrupted.  “And you’ll have an angel, a demon, and a Time Lord with you.  That’s a fairly powerful combination.  We’ll do our very best to get you home safely once Kilgrave is dealt with.”

“Fine,” Ellie declared.  Alec dropped his hands and stared at his colleague incredulously on hearing her admission of defeat.

“Miller?!”

She shrugged and nodded towards Crowley.

“She’s got a point.  If there’s a murderer and rapist on the loose, we need to do whatever it takes to keep the town safe.  My kids are here.  My sister, my friends.”

Alec snorted, crossed his arms defensively in front of his chest, and turned to each of the Doctor, Crowley, and Aziraphale in turn.  Nobody moved or spoke, which only seemed to irritate him further.

“Weeelll,” he huffed, “you heard DS Miller.  Take us to your bloody spaceship.”

The Doctor grinned and began to head for the door with his typical bouncing gait.  Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Doctor.  You are going to have to stop that if you want anybody to believe you’re him.” 

Pausing, the Time Lord turned back.

“What?”

“Smiling.”

*

The guests had the usual response to the Tardis.  After initial confusion at the sight of the unassuming police box taking up a large part of the kitchen, they faced the shock of the internal dimensions and appearance. 

Ellie gasped, squealed, and ran back out to circuit the outside, before breathlessly declaring:

“It’s bigger on the inside!”

That was greeted by rolled eyes from both the Doctor and Crowley, an amused smile from Aziraphale, and a grunt of displeasure from Alec, who was determinedly unimpressed by the whole thing.  His whole air stated his intent to solve this mystery with some logical explanation; going along with this madness for now, but on the lookout for the truth at all times.  He was after all, not actually the worst cop in Britain.

The Doctor strode straight over to the console and began pressing buttons and flicking switches.  Then he turned to Alec.

“Address?”

With an exasperated sigh, Alec gave his address. 

“It’s a five minute walk from here,” he added.

“But that’s outside.  Anyone could be watching and reporting our movements,” the Doctor replied, inputting the necessary details.  “Right… hold on tight.” 

Aziraphale had taken up his usual spot on the sofa he’d once miracled, that had now become a permanent feature of the console room.  Crowley was sprawled across the arm of the sofa, keeping a close eye on the first-time travellers.

“Come and sit here, DS Miller,” Aziraphale invited, patting the soft cushion next to him.  “It can be a little shaky, but the trip shouldn’t take long.”  Ellie approached and took the indicated seat, alert with a nervous excitement.  Alec remained hovering on the walkway by the door, holding onto the barrier but refusing to proceed further.  His eyes were darting about, taking in every detail of the space, presumably wondering how he could assimilate this abuse of the laws of physics into his understanding of the world. 

Satisfied that everyone was secure, the Doctor pulled the lever and set them travelling the very short distance to Alec’s house.  Ellie let out an excited ‘ooh’ and held onto the sofa cushion tightly, while Alec’s eyes widened, his expression of bemusement replaced with fear.  He clung to the barrier, knuckles white with the tension of his grip. 

The shuddering and noise lasted only a short time though, before the ship seemed to settle.  Tongue between his teeth and fingers lazily dancing over a bank of buttons and dials on the console, the Doctor shot a quick glance over at Hardy.

“Just pop your head out and check we’re in your house, would you,” he requested.  Alec stared at him in disbelief.  “Go on, just open the door a crack and peek out.”  The detective turned briefly to stare at the door instead, and then pointed at it with his thumb.

“Out there?”

The Doctor appeared confused by the question.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

With a roll of his eyes that expressed his opinion of this utter nonsense, Alec stepped towards the door and opened it, peering out.  He immediately jumped back, emitting a startled squawk and slamming the door shut.  Crowley jumped up and stood in a defensive posture in front of Aziraphale and Ellie, while the Doctor sprinted across to Alec, alarmed.

“What’s wrong?  Are we not in your house?”

Alec spluttered incoherently for several seconds, until he finally found some words.

“Move this thing out of my bloody bedroom right now!” he exclaimed, eyebrows high and angry on his forehead.  The Doctor had just reached him and had a steadying hand on his shoulder, but he burst out laughing at Alec’s demand.  He patted his doppelgänger in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Doesn’t matter what room we’re in, so long as we’re in the correct building,” he said, before turning towards the sofa.  “Come on then, do your thing.”

On approaching the door, Crowley paused and regarded Alec intently.

“Anything we need to bear in mind?  You got a husband?  Wife?  Partner?  Any kids?  Who needs access to the house?”

Alec shook his head, blushing at the broad range of suggestions. 

“No.  My daughter, Daisy is with her mother at the moment.  We’re divorced.  So, it’s um… it’s just me.”

With a nod, Crowley and Aziraphale moved out into Alec’s house, Ellie watching fascinatedly from the door.  Alec followed the angel and demon, observing as they quickly scouted both upstairs and downstairs, understood the space they were dealing with, and returned to the hallway just outside the bedroom door where they proceeded to set their wards with a succession of complex hand gestures.  The humans had no idea what they were watching, but Alec fully intended to supervise these strange individuals as they moved around his house. 

Once he was finished and waiting for Aziraphale to perform some final checks, Crowley amused himself by returning to Alec’s bedroom and taking in some more of the details, very aware that it was making the detective uncomfortable.  He sat on the corner of the bed, testing the bounce and give of the mattress, before sprawling at an awkward angle.  Alec watched, skin brightening once again to a bright pink blush, which the demon naturally noticed; with a subtle smirk, he shook his head, causing the cascade of red curls gathered in a high ponytail to ripple and shimmer attractively.

Alec swallowed, not quite able to draw his eyes away, unused to seeing a beautiful woman lounging on his bed.  Fortunately, Aziraphale rescued him by re-entering the room and heading straight for the Tardis.

“Right, all done.  On to the next one,” the angel urged, ushering everyone back on board.  He shot a quick glance between his husband and the Detective Inspector, rolling his eyes.  “Do behave, Crowley.”

Once they were all settled on the ship again, Alec with his face set into a determined expression, appearing thoroughly fed up with the turn his week was taking, the Doctor programmed Ellie’s address into the console.  Her house was on the other side of the town, so warding the two detective’s homes had potential strategic advantage, in addition to ensuring they would both have a familiar safe space to return to.

Once the house was secure, Ellie made arrangements to keep her family safe.  Her sister Lucy was looking after Fred and agreed to keep him longer when Ellie informed her that a case had come up, meaning she’d have to work.  They’d been at her own house, but it was just down the road, and she brought Fred back to Ellie’s where it would be safer, Ellie suggesting that she had no idea how long she might be and it would be better for him to sleep in his own bed.  Her teenager, Tom, arrived home shortly afterwards and once they were all safely inside with instructions not to leave under any circumstances, the Tardis finally left, her noise shielded by a soundproofing miracle. 

They returned to the cottage then, knowing that Kilgrave probably had spies watching it.  Parked back in the kitchen, they prepared to set their plan in motion.

“Do.  Not.  Touch.  Anything,” the Doctor warned Alec who, it had been decided, would remain hidden in the ship.

“But I want to help,” the detective complained.  “I’m not going to just sit here, doing nothing.”

“We can’t let you be seen,” Crowley reminded, but then he gave the idea some thought.  “Actually, don’t worry, I have a plan.  Doctor, DS Miller, it’s time to get to work.”

“Crowley?” the Doctor said as they were preparing to leave.  “I have something that might help you.”  He rooted in his pocket for a second, and then held out a chain with a key on the end: a key to the Tardis.  Crowley raised his eyebrows curiously.

“You know I don’t need…”

“Weeelll, sometimes you do, when you piss her off.  But it’s not really about the key.  I know you can make yourself miraculously unnoticeable, but out in public, where there are so many people and they’re constantly changing, this will be easier.  It’s a perception filter, so people won’t see you unless they already know you’re there.  It’ll help you stay close to us without arousing suspicion.”

“Oh.  That’s… really helpful actually.  I can concentrate on other things.”

“You still need to be careful.  Don’t bump into anyone, and try to keep interactions with your environment to a minimum.”

Crowley nodded, taking the chain and placing it around his neck, hiding the key under his clothes.

Then the demon, accompanied by the Doctor (in character as Alec), and Ellie (excitedly playing up to that pretence), left the Tardis, heading straight out of the cottage.  They made their way casually down the cliff path into town and straight to the police station.  As they walked through the office, Ellie greeted a few colleagues, while the Doctor mostly ignored them, as he’d been instructed would be typical of the man he was pretending to be.  He had adopted a sullen expression (knitted brows making him appear older), and was observing everything closely, with an air of suspicion; he looked exactly like Hardy.  Nobody noticed Crowley’s presence.

Once they arrived in Hardy’s private office, just off the main one, Crowley had a good look around, before dramatically snapping his fingers, although the result of his magic was not immediately apparent.  He followed up the miracle with gestures similar to those they’d already witnessed that day, warding the office so no unsanctioned persons could enter, and any activity inside could not be witnessed or overheard, creating another sanctuary within the building.  Then he studied the Doctor closely for several seconds. 

‘You think you can do this?’  The Time Lord nodded, and Crowley returned the gesture.  ‘Do not underestimate him, Doctor.’  Swallowing thickly, the Doctor saw the worry in the demon’s eyes and felt a small shiver pass down his spine.  He understood that he was putting himself in danger, although the reasons for doing so meant he had no hesitation. 

‘I won’t.’

Crowley hummed, not fully convinced but knowing there was no arguing. 

‘I’ll try and stay in touch as much as possible, if I can remain close enough without arousing suspicion.  I need to pop back to the cottage though, so wait here until I come back.’

Nodding, the Doctor switched to vocalised speech, addressing Ellie now.  “We should look through the CCTV from around the pier earlier this afternoon, identify any witnesses, especially those who may be under the influence of Kilgrave.  The woman who gave Zee the pendant; that’s the place to start.” 

After observing him closely for a moment, Crowley strode towards the Doctor, wrapping his arms around him tightly.  Then, keeping the Time Lord’s face between his hands, he looked at him with a concerned expression, before kissing him very fully on the mouth. 

The Doctor appeared astonished by the sudden display of affection (it was after all the first time he’d been kissed like this by Crowley in this form), although not quite as astonished as Ellie was.  She was very much struggling to keep up with the relationships in this strange group.

After the kiss, Crowley stared at the Doctor a little longer, then turned his gaze to Ellie.

“Do everything he says.  That way we’ll stand a chance of keeping you safe.”

Ellie nodded nervously, suddenly reminded of the seriousness of the situation, while the Doctor, still recovering from the kiss, cleared his throat and waggled a finger in the direction of the computer on Hardy’s desk.  Crowley snapped his fingers again, disappearing, and once she’d gawped at the empty space where he’d been for a decent length of time, Ellie shook her head and logged on to Alec’s computer, accessing the CCTV records.  She was joined by the Doctor, and they began looking over the relevant data.

*

Crowley appeared quite excited as he re-entered the Tardis, although he flinched a little as she rebuked him for daring to interfere with her; she knew the result of that first snap of his fingers in Alec’s office.  Her response suggested that the miracle had worked however, and the demon continued to smile.

“Right, DI Hardy.  Want to be useful?”  He slung a friendly arm around the man, who appeared very uncomfortable with the sudden proximity and contact, and then pulled him towards the stairs, leading him further down into the ship.  Crowley winked to his angel as he passed, and Aziraphale returned a fond, slightly exasperated smile. 

“Everything should be spot on, so you can just get straight to it,” Crowley babbled mysteriously, as he guided Alec down a long corridor.  “Ah!  Here we are!”  They stopped outside a door.  It was a rather generic office-style door, and Alec squinted at it, not quite understanding.  A small sign read ‘DI Alec Hardy’, just like the one on his own office.

“What?”

Crowley grinned, and pushed open the door, encouraging his companion to enter.  Inside was a perfect duplicate of the man’s office, including every item of furniture, every piece of equipment or stationery, and every file.  Demonic miracle accomplished with the grudging cooperation of the Tardis.

“What?” Alec repeated, completely shocked. 

“Somewhere you can work?” Crowley suggested, and Alec eventually nodded.  He approached the desk and sank wearily into the chair behind it.  After a moment, he leaned forward and logged onto the computer. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered when it worked and he could access his programs and files.  He looked at Crowley.  “How did you…?”

“Demon.”  Crowley wriggled his fingers, still grinning.  “Now, you must stay here.  If you need anything, the ship will probably help.”  He shrugged.  “If she likes you.  Otherwise, as the Doctor said, don’t touch anything.  And stay here.  We’ll be in touch if we need you to do anything different.  But in the meantime, if you spot anything suspicious, especially a man who looks like you, then let us know.”  He snapped his fingers.  “You have all our contact details.” 

*

Aziraphale paced around the console room, thinking.  A lot had happened in a short time, and he was arranging his thoughts, trying not to give in to his emotions or his terror at the prospect of facing Kilgrave again. 

How had the man survived?  If Crowley’s magic had worked, Kilgrave had been instantaneously transported to the middle of the Siberian wilderness, in only his smart suit, with no supplies and nobody to compel into cooperation.  But it appeared that in only four months, he had survived that initial scenario, made his way back to civilisation, procured a copy of Zee’s pendant, and tracked them down.  The message he’d had delivered to Zee was also particularly concerning; suggesting that he hadn’t given up on getting her back and keeping her by his side.

The angel bristled, setting his mouth into a determined frown.  If the man was going to achieve that aim, it would be over his dead body.  And many others, he suspected.  Aziraphale just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

He felt Crowley returning and moved towards the staircase, waiting for him.  Neither of them spoke as they met and hugged one another tightly, finding much-needed comfort in each other’s arms. 

The embrace lasted some time, before the importance of continuing to act overtook their more personal need, although they remained close as they determined their next moves. 

“You should stay as close as you safely can to the Doctor, Crowley.  You can keep Ellie safe, and you can communicate with him discreetly, keep us all in touch with what’s happening.” 

The demon nodded.

“We’re hoping to find the woman who gave Zee the pendant.  We know she’s had contact with Kilgrave.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed.  “I was thinking I might take a walk around the harbour.  He’ll be keeping a watch on us, and splitting up will give him more to think about.  Besides, I might spot something suspicious and find another lead, if somebody is watching.”

“Be careful, angel.  You can resist him but you can’t stop him.”

Crowley rested his forehead against his angel’s, and then kissed it softly.  After sharing a last, long look, they left the Tardis, Aziraphale heading out of the cottage and down towards the harbour, keeping a sharp eye out for any clues.  Meanwhile, Crowley snapped his fingers and teleported back to the police station.  He observed the officers at work closely.  Anybody could be under Kilgrave’s influence, so they had to proceed on the basis that every action in the presence of a person from outside their group was being watched. 

*

“That’s it!  There…  That’s her.”  The Doctor pointed to the screen.  He and Ellie had already tracked the woman from the pier and traced her back from her meeting with Zee to see where she came from.  Now they were looking at where she’d been subsequently and had just picked her up again, entering a pub in town quite recently. 

“That’s about 45 minutes ago.  Let me see if she’s left…” Ellie replied, scanning through the footage.

‘Crowley?’  The Doctor could feel that the demon was close by again. 

‘You got something?’

‘The woman from the pier.  She entered the town from a side road leading up a hill, accompanied by Kilgrave.  Fortunately, we can see it because there happens to be a traffic camera there for an accident blackspot.  Ellie says the parish church is up there, but not a lot else, other than a few houses.  He seems to have taken her by some quiet roads away from cameras after that because we lose them, until she reappears near the harbour from this direction.  After meeting with Zee, she headed back to the outskirts of town, towards the place we first saw her.  We’ve just found her again, less than an hour ago, walking through town and entering a pub, The Old Oak.’

“I think she’s still in there,” Ellie said, reaching the live point on the CCTV feed. 

‘She’s still in the pub.’

‘Right, I’ll send Aziraphale to the church.  You guys get to the pub, and I’ll try to stay close.’

“How about a nice trip to the pub?” the Doctor asked Ellie brightly, apparently taking pleasure in emphasising the word. 

“Ooh, are you asking me out on a date, Doctor?”  He winked and Ellie giggled at the sight, incongruous on ‘Alec’s’ face.  Then she frowned.  “What about the church?”

“Oh, well since we have an angel… seems appropriate for him to take that one.  Crowley’s letting him know.”

“Oh.”  She looked puzzled.  “You mean, you’ve already… how… oh…”  She pointed to her own head and then his.  “You’ve been speaking to him.”  The Doctor nodded.  “Bloody hell.”  He grinned.

“Come on.”  He gestured to the door and almost bounced over to open it for her.

“Doctor?” she questioned, clearly trying her best not to laugh.  He glanced back with an eyebrow raised.  “You’re Hardy, remember.  Act like it!”

“Oh!”  He smirked, then settled his features into more of a frown.  “Sorry,” he added, in his best approximation of Alec’s accent.  Ellie smiled.

“You can be keen.  Dog with a bone.  Just not excited.”

“Right.  Gotcha.  No excitement.” 

“No,” Ellie confirmed, approaching the door.  “It’s bad for your heart, Sir.”

His eyebrow arched into a very dramatic inverted-v on his forehead, and she laughed, leaning close as she passed him and whispering, “You have a pacemaker.”  Astonished, the Doctor followed. 

‘Did you know I have a pacemaker, Crowley?  Me?!  Two hearts over here, and I’m pretending to be half-a-working-heart-Hardy?!’

‘Shut up and concentrate!’

‘I suppose, at least if anyone picks up on the weird heartbeat, I can blame it on my medical issues.’

‘You shouldn’t be letting anyone close enough for that, DI Hardy.’

The Doctor was trying very hard not to smile as he walked through the main office towards the stairs, both he and Ellie completely ignoring Crowley, who was now following them.  He always enjoyed a good bit of undercover work, pretending to be someone else, and this role was fascinating, if also a bit challenging; Alec was so different from him.  He reached into his pocket and felt the police badge that was there, very reluctantly given to him by the real Alec Hardy.  He’d have been happy to use his psychic paper, but given the complexity of the situation, Crowley had insisted he should have the real thing, although Alec had seemed quite distressed to be separated from it.  It was the same with his house keys and wallet, which were also now residing in the jacket pockets of the Doctor’s suit.

“Sir?”

His thoughts were interrupted by a junior officer, approaching him in the corridor.  Startled at being addressed in character by a stranger for the first time, he narrowed his eyes, contemplating them curiously.

“What?”  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ellie stifling a giggle.  He hoped that meant he was doing a good job.

“Um… I’ve got that information you asked for.  All Bentley vehicles registered in the UK, dating from 1920 to 1940.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened.  What would he want that information for?  Fortunately, Ellie seemed to understand.

“Put them on my desk, Jenkins.  We’ll take a look at them later.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Yes.  What she said.  Later.”

The junior officer glanced between them, hesitated for a minute, and then nodded, moving past them and into the office.  The Doctor let out a breath.

“Ok?” he asked his companion.  She smiled.

“You were wonderful,” she said unconvincingly.  “I think things have moved on a bit from investigating the car now though.”

“Hmm.  Yeah.  Let’s go, then.”

*

Aziraphale proceeded up the hill along a narrow road that twisted up between occasional large houses.  He could see the church at the top, sat prominently on the hillside with what promised to be stunning views.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for or hoped to achieve by the visit, but even if his presence here provided a distraction that allowed the others to proceed in their own, more tangibly useful investigation, then that was fine.

On entering the churchyard, the angel smiled.  The place felt very loved and cared for, and had a welcoming feel that, in his experience, not all such places had.  Old gravestones sat amongst well-tended lawns and flowerbeds, sheltered by the occasional tree.  The church itself sat at the top of a path, the kind of picturesque old building that couples liked to choose for their weddings. 

Aziraphale had a complicated relationship with churches.  Organised religion was a strange thing, in his eyes, and rarely corresponded to his own interpretation of God’s teachings.  Not that Heaven had managed that either.  Sometimes though, as in this case, they felt like oases of comfort in an otherwise often distressing world. 

As he continued up the path, he saw a figure emerge from the main door.  It appeared to be the vicar, clad in casual chinos, and a shirt with traditional clerical collar.  He seemed relatively young, with dark blond hair swept back off a handsome face. 

“Hello,” the man greeted.

“Good afternoon, Reverend,” Aziraphale replied.

“Were you intending to visit the church?  I was just heading home, but I can stay if you need me.”

“Oh.  I shouldn’t like to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble.”  The man smiled and held his hand out.  “Reverend Paul Coates.”

Aziraphale took the proffered hand, considered for a moment, and then introduced himself.

“Ezra Fell.  It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise.  I haven’t seen you here before…”

“Oh, I’m just here on holiday.  I always like to take in a little local history, and the parish church is usually a good place to start.”

The vicar invited Aziraphale inside, and they passed through a heavy wooden door into the cool of the stone building.  Through a small vestibule, they found their way into the main body of the church, with its rows of wooden pews and worn carpets on the solidly flagged floor.

“Making the most of the unseasonably warm weather, eh?”

The angel smiled at the innocent reference to Crowley’s interference in the climatic conditions.

“You could say that.”

“Any particular history I can help with?”

Aziraphale thought about that.  He recalled Crowley’s story from the restaurant on Saturday evening.

“Yes, actually.  Do you hold records of the organists?  A… friend, has family in the area and has been researching their genealogy.  Late-nineteenth century, the organist here was a George Whittaker, I believe.”

The vicar seemed taken aback by the specificity of the request, although subsequently pleased as he realised that he could help. 

“Of course.  My predecessor was a history buff, put together some fascinating histories of the people connected to the church.  I’ll find you a copy.  The organists are listed on a plaque behind the organ though.”  He pointed to the back of the church.  “He’ll be on there, your Mr Whittaker.”  He nodded Aziraphale over to the organ, disappearing in the opposite direction to the vestry, presumably in search of the text he’d mentioned. 

The angel proceeded to the organ, genuinely interested now.  He found the large wooden plaque behind, engraved with a long list of names, and sure enough, there was Crowley’s brewer, husband to Sarah.  He smiled.  The centuries passed by but he never tired of seeing evidence of Crowley’s good works. 

Shortly afterwards, the vicar returned, clutching a thin paperback.   

“He published it himself, only a small print run, but there’s still a pile of them in the vestry, so you’re welcome to take one.”  He opened the book, flicking through to find a page, passing the text to Aziraphale once he found it.  “The history of the organ and its caretakers.  Your man features prominently; I remember reading about him.  He was a manager at the local brewery, dedicated family man, worked hard, did well for himself, and gave generously to the church.  He’s buried out in the churchyard, alongside his wife, Sarah.”

Aziraphale took the book gratefully.

“My friend will be delighted to read about him.  This is very kind of you.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.  I’m just pleased somebody is interested!”

The angel glanced around the church.  The bare stone was brightened with banners in colourful felt, decorated with inspiring biblical passages, and there were fresh flowers dotted about.  The feeling of love the place had was stronger inside, and it seemed that great pride was taken in making it feel welcoming.

“Do you get many?  At your services?”

A expression of regret passed over the vicar’s face.

“No.  A small but dedicated congregation.  Aging, of course.  I get out into the town as much as possible, keep the overt religious message toned down, try to spread hope and kindness.  Local schools, community events, things like that.”

“Hope and kindness,” the angel repeated.  “That’s right.”

“It’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?  Kindness.  It’s not really about God, but about the message.  If we could all just love a bit more, look after one another.”

“Quite right, Reverend.”  Aziraphale was pleased.  It made him feel a bit more hopeful himself, to know that there were people like this vicar, going through the world, trying to spread a message of love.  He reached across and laid his hand on the man’s shoulder, subtly blessing him.  “Keep going.  You’re doing good work for the people of this town.”

Swallowing a little nervously, the angel reached into his pocket and took out his phone.  The Doctor had sent him an image from the CCTV, showing the woman they were looking for.  “Um… I don’t suppose you know this woman?  She was around here earlier today.”  He showed the vicar the photo. 

After a quick study, the vicar shook his head.

“No.  Why?”

Aziraphale ignored the question.

“DI Hardy.  You know him?”

“Yeah, of course.  Our paths cross.”  Judging by his tone, the vicar did not, it appeared, like Alec.  Presumably there was some history there.

“Have you seen him today?  Or anybody who looks like him?” 

“No.  Why?” the vicar repeated.  A quick miracle soothed his curiosity more easily than an answer.

“Lovely.  Thank you for the book, Reverend.  I might just go and find our organist’s resting place.” 

With a smile, Aziraphale left, indeed heading for the quiet corner of the churchyard where George and Sarah were buried.  As he stood by the grave, taking a few minutes for quiet contemplation, he felt an intent gaze upon him, and glancing towards the far entrance, he noticed a man leaning against a tree, eyes fixed on him.  Kilgrave’s spy, he figured.  Some poor, innocent person compelled into the man’s service, keeping watch over their actions.  The angel shuddered, hoping that his friends were experiencing greater success in following up their lead.   

Chapter Text

“You know there will probably be people in here who know him?”

Ellie had paused just before they reached the entrance to the pub, hand on the door, and she looked at the Doctor significantly.  After a brief attack of nerves, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can do it,” he said, accent flawless now.  He scowled at Ellie and gestured to the door.  “Go on, then.”

She giggled.

“Oh, just carry on like that.  You’ll be fine!”

He glared at her, and she shook her head, trying her best to restrain her laughter as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. 

The laughter dried up instantly, as an excited shout of ‘Ellie!’ was heard coming from somewhere near the bar.  “Bloody hell,” Ellie muttered, and the Doctor swallowed, realising that he was going to need all his powers of concentration and improvisation to get through this. 

Following Ellie inside, he watched as a woman with shoulder length dark brown hair ran over and embraced her, Ellie returning the hug, although she seemed a little stiff.  The Doctor’s face displayed surprise and probably some concern, both of which he considered appropriate, given what he’d seen of Alec’s aversion to physical contact.  He assumed that he was also supposed to know the woman, and he did actually feel a vague sense of recognition, although he couldn’t place her.  He listened hard for any clues that might help him.

“Beth!” Ellie exclaimed with a touch of emphasis that told the Doctor it was for his benefit.  “How are you?” she continued, pulling back from the embrace. 

“Alright.”  The woman – Beth – pulled a face.  “Work’s a bit… you know.”  She glanced over Ellie’s shoulder and spotted the Doctor, or rather (hopefully), Alec.  “Hi,” she greeted him, slightly stiffly.  Her eyes had been bright as she conversed with Ellie but they dulled somewhat when they landed on him.  Clearly Beth and Alec were not best friends. 

“Hi,” he replied. 

Ellie cleared her throat, aiming to regain Beth’s attention and take the focus off the Doctor. 

“Oh, tell me about it.  I know we chose these careers, but… ugh…”  She shook her head.  “Um… I’m actually working now, Beth.  Sorry.”  

“Oh, god.  Sorry!  I’ll leave you to it, then.  I’ll call you, arrange a catch up.”  She stepped back, glancing quickly at the Doctor again, her eyes gaining that slight coldness again as she did so.

“Yeah.  Of course,” Ellie agreed. 

As Beth walked away, Ellie scanned the room.  Then she turned to the Doctor.  “Sorry about that.”

He shrugged.

“She didn’t seem to question anything,” he commented quietly.  “That’s good.”

“Hmm.”

“We don’t get on?” he asked.  Ellie fixed him with a look.

“Would it mean anything to you if I told you that that was Beth Latimer?” she questioned, keeping her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

He thought about it.  He’d done a bit of research during his ten days away, realising he’d need to know more about the place and its people.

“The boy who was murdered,” he replied, deliberately vague because he also knew about Ellie’s connection to the case, as more than just an investigating officer. 

“Yeah.  His mum.”  The Doctor nodded, understanding now why he’d recognised her.

“Makes sense now.”  Ellie nodded, and then set off through the pub, searching for the woman from the pier.  “What job does she do?  Sounds like it’s also quite stressful.”

“She’s a support worker, for survivors of sexual assault.”  She paused, glancing back at him.  “I know the specific circumstances must make it difficult… but how much professional help has your friend had?”

The Doctor blinked at her, wincing.  Every time he managed to forget for a moment, to push his knowledge of what had happened to Zee to the back of his mind just briefly, something would remind him.  And every time, the images were so vivid.  Anger and pain surged through him. 

“I’m sorry,” Ellie added.  “I know it must be a difficult subject.”

He swallowed.

“There’s a man, a friend they made in New York.  He’s training to be a counsellor, and he speaks with her regularly.  He knows about… well, everything, which makes it easier.”  Ellie nodded.  “Although they’ve mostly been focusing on the psychological damage the mind control did.”

“I’m sure Beth would be happy to talk to her.  Her training is more specialised.” 

The Doctor gave her a quite weak smile.

“You’d be best to talk to Aziraphale and Crowley about that.”

She looked at him curiously, seeming like she might want to ask something, but then decided against it, concentrating on the task in hand and beginning to move through the bar again.  He suspected she probably had questions about the relationships within their group, since they hadn’t gone into too much detail about that.

Crowley had remained outside when they entered the pub, keeping watch for any suspicious comings and goings, and also reducing the risk of any accidents that might occur in a crowded environment and reveal his presence.  He was close by though and well within range for communication.  The Doctor found it helpful, despite the distraction of their mutual tension and turbulent emotions, the usual comfort he found in the demon’s presence joined by a more practical reassurance, since Crowley’s magic provided a certain measure of safety, especially for Ellie.

‘Everything ok?’

‘Yeah, all good.  We’re just looking for the woman now.’

‘Aziraphale messaged.  He’s being watched.  So, take care; assume you’re being watched too.  Anyone could be under Kilgrave’s control.’

“Alec, I think I’ve found her,” Ellie said, turning to the Doctor and nodding towards the far corner of the pub.  He followed the direction of her nod and saw that she was right.  Sitting at a small table by the window was the woman they’d seen on the CCTV speaking with Zee on the pier.  She was alone and staring intently at her drink. 

‘We’ve found her.’

‘Ok.  Be careful.  Sometimes they can be a bit distressed by seeing someone who looks like him.  I’ll be right outside.’

“Right,” the Doctor replied nervously, speaking to Ellie but simultaneously transmitting the same word to Crowley.  “You should go and talk to her then.  Given the resemblance between me and him, it’s probably best if I keep out of the way, at least initially.”

“I’ll take the lead.  Stay close, but only interject if you have to.” 

He nodded, remaining half hidden by a pillar while Ellie approached the woman, and watching as she introduced herself and sat down to question her.  He was observing closely when he felt a hand on his shoulder, almost making him jump out of his skin.

“Oh, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you, detective!” a deep voice exclaimed behind him, the hand withdrawing almost as suddenly as it had appeared. 

The Doctor turned, hand instinctively reaching for his sonic, before remembering that it wasn’t in its usual pocket, because the police badge was in there.  It was in his trouser pocket, along with the fake pendant and the assortment of random, potentially useful objects he always carried around with him.  Protected by a perception filter, only a person who knew his pocket was larger than an ordinary one would be able to find it.

He had to look up to see the face of the man with the deep voice, and as he searched that face for clues as to how to respond, his hand very subtly crept to his trouser pocket, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he was rooting around inside it. 

“It’s Mark, the paramedic from earlier.  Sorry, you probably don’t remember…”

The Doctor tried to paint recognition onto his features, panicking slightly because he had no idea what conversation they’d had.  He smiled at the man though, because he’d helped Zee, and Crowley had indicated that he’d been incredibly gentle and patient with her.  In fact, when telling the story, Crowley had been positively gushing about how wonderful the paramedic had been. The demon had a crush, it seemed, and the Doctor could see why; the man was tall and strong, and had beautiful blue eyes, dark blond hair and a beard that almost begged to have fingers drawn through it. 

“Hi… yes, sorry.  Long day.”

“No worries, I get it.  Is she ok?”  He was asking about Zee, the Doctor thought, immediately feeling very warm towards Mark, and forgetting all about trying to retrieve his sonic.  He’d also realised that the man didn’t know Alec well, which helped him to relax a bit.

“Yeah, her… um, friends… took her back to their accommodation and got her settled.”

Mark smiled.

“That’s such good news.  No lasting effects then?  All fine?”

“Yeah.”  

“Interesting trio,” the paramedic commented.

The Doctor smiled back at him.  Oh, you have no idea… He didn’t think he should respond too openly though, professionally speaking, as a police officer. 

“You know, I can’t…”

Mark held his hands up, acknowledging the point.

“No, of course.  I’m glad to hear she got home safely.  She seems to have good support around her; they were both very attentive.”

“Yeah.”  The Doctor continued smiling, remembering the first time he’d visited the bookshop, almost a year ago now, and how he’d also instantly seen the love between the angel, the demon, and their human partner.  He’d not known then how far he’d be invited into that, included in that love, the three of them welcoming both him and Jack into their lives and creating a home for them, a place where they could also feel safe to let their own love blossom.

“Are you ok?”

Mark’s voice interrupted his thoughts, startling him again, and he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder.  He blinked, swallowed, and cleared his throat, remembering that he was supposed to be Alec Hardy. 

“Yes.  Yeah.  I’m fine.”  He looked up into those striking blue eyes, that seemed to be twinkling with amusement.  They were lovely, although they were not Jack’s.    

“Can I buy you a drink, detective?”

Why was he asking that?  It was very sudden.  Was the offer simply polite, casual, one professional making expected conversation with another?  Or was it… flirtatious?  The twinkle in his eyes suggested…

The Doctor blinked again, unsure how to respond.  How would Alec respond?  Probably with blushing confusion and a borderline rude rejection.  Perhaps emphasising the rude rather than the borderline. 

“What?”

That sounded like Alec.  The Doctor felt a rush of pride as he really felt he’d nailed that line, before remembering that there was nobody watching who would know that. 

“May I buy you a drink?  We don’t have to talk about the job.  In fact, we could make work a completely off-the-table topic if you like.”

“What exactly would be on the table, then?” he asked confusedly, snorting dismissively in the way he’d heard Alec do.  Again, he really felt like he’d nailed it.  Alec Married-to-his-job Hardy would definitely say that.

Mark smirked though.  Oh, so it was definitely flirting. 

“Whatever you prefer, detective.”

Fuck.  The Doctor swallowed again, heat pooling suddenly in his lower back, muscles twitching greedily.  He understood that this man, this big man (and the Doctor could not help speculating on whether everything was in proportion…), would fuck him into the middle of next week if he let him (probably on a table… perhaps even a table in this pub…).  He blushed at that realisation.  He hadn’t intended his question to be innuendo, but apparently Mark had taken it that way. 

“Um… I… hmm…” he stammered.  A response was necessary, but his brain was feeling quite fuzzy, and he was sure that Alec would be appalled by the man’s suggestion but he couldn’t quite bring himself to reject it out of hand.  “I’m actually working,” he eventually managed.  Which was true, and far less rude than Alec would have been, and didn’t completely close the door (not that the Doctor had any intention of doing anything like that).

“Right.  All done.”

Both the Doctor and Mark started at the sound of Ellie’s voice, turning to stare at her.  She looked between them, then recognised Mark and smiled.

“Oh, hi.  You’re the paramedic.”

“I am.”

Ellie continued to glance between the two men, some strange combination of dawning comprehension and alarm battling in her eyes.

“Right, DI Hardy, let’s go.” 

The Doctor nodded, briefly turning his eyes back to Mark.

“Yes, I have to go… work…” 

Seemingly annoyed, Ellie huffed and grabbed his arm, making as if to steer him out of the pub.  Amusement shone brightly in Mark’s eyes.

“Ok.  Nice to see you again.  Hopefully see you around.”

The Doctor winced as Ellie tightened her grip and dragged him towards the exit.  He stared at her, baffled.

“What’s wrong?  Did something happen with the woman?  What did she say?” 

They reached the door, and Ellie pushed him through it, following and immediately heading for her car.  She didn’t speak until they were sat down inside it, and then she almost exploded. 

“Were you flirting?!  With that ridiculously sexy paramedic?”

The Doctor gasped, eyes widening and a blush painting his cheeks pink.

“Um… no?”

She gave him a significant look, eyebrow raised.  He swallowed, thinking that she was actually a bit intimidating when she was angry.  “Maybe?” he tried, dropping Alec’s accent for the moment.

“You bloody were!”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“You’re supposed to be Alec bloody Hardy!”

“And he wouldn’t…?”

“He certainly would not!”

“That man just spoke to me… What was I supposed to do?”

“Give him the kind of filthy look that should mortally offend him, not even deign to speak to him, and keep focused on what’s important, which right then was observing me questioning a person of interest!”

“Oh.”  He knitted his brows thoughtfully.  “It never came up, when we were practicing earlier; what I should do if a handsome man flirts with me…”

Ellie appeared shocked.

“Why would it…?  It’s so unlikely.  Never happened before.  Did you do anything to encourage it?”  The Doctor shook his head vehemently.  “But it’s never… he is the least… that is… I don’t think he’s interested in anyone.  And he gives off very strong ‘fuck off’ vibes.”  She looked at him sternly.  “Which you definitely weren’t.”

There was silence briefly, the Doctor considering Ellie’s words and feeling guilty, although he had tried to play his role as well as he could.  He really didn’t want to scupper his own plan.

‘Doctor, is everything ok?  I can feel all kinds of different emotions coming from you.’

‘All good.’

‘Were you… flirting with someone?  I can’t imagine him doing that…’

‘Shut up!’

“Are you talking to the demon?” Ellie asked sharply. 

“Sorry, he was just checking how things are going.”  He noticed Ellie’s eyes narrowing and realised what he’d said.  Fuck, this was all so confusing!  “She was just checking.  Sorry, brain’s not really…”

“You need to focus, Doctor.”

“I know.  Sorry.”

She looked like she wanted to ask something again.  He met her gaze, eyebrow lifted curiously, the tiniest smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.  Ellie sighed, giving in to temptation.

“You lot blow my mind.  I thought I had it right, that Aziraphale and Antonia, although you lot seem to call her by her surname, and Zee are a… throuple?  Is that the word?  The three of them are together, anyway.  And you and Jack are a couple.  But… the demon snogged your face off!  And you have this weird telepathy thing.  And the way you talk about Zee…  I don’t get it.”

The Doctor shrugged.

“Everything you said is true.  Weeelll… I’m not sure they’d like the word ‘throuple’, but the relationships are right.  I guess you could say they’re the primary relationships, but… hmm… Zee’s much better at explaining this stuff than I am.  Aziraphale is only… um… sexually involved with Crowley and Zee.  But apart from that, the rest of us… we have fun.  Well, with Zee it’s more… hmm.”  He sighed heavily.  “Well… we used to.  Before.  Then Kilgrave happened.  Now Zee doesn’t…”

“You look like him,” Ellie murmured, comprehending.

“I haven’t been able to see her since it happened,” he said quietly.  “Because she can’t see me.”

“You love her.”

Tears pricked at his eyes as he looked at Ellie, neither confirming nor denying her statement.  She reached across and took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.  “I’m sorry.”

“I just want to help her.  I want to comfort her and keep her safe.”

“That’s what you’re doing now.  So, let’s focus on the job.”

The Doctor sniffed, settled Alec back onto his features, and nodded.

“Did you get anything helpful from her?” he asked, in Alec’s voice.

“Oh, yes.”  She pulled out her notebook.  The Doctor smiled, because that made it feel like proper detective work.  “Kate Thompson.  34 years old.  Local, lives out at one of the new estates on the outskirts of town.  Works in a nursing home, The Sycamores, just on the corner by the bottom of the hill up to the church, which explains why she was walking down there.  She spoke with a man answering Kilgrave’s description, which we saw of course.  Said he was walking the same way as her through the fields beyond the church.  She was wary at first, woman on her own, strange man, but he kept talking to her, and he told her that she was safe.”

“So she immediately felt safe,” the Doctor muttered angrily.

“Yeah.  She was on her way to work but he told her she didn’t need to go and took her down to the harbour instead, via a strange route, mostly side roads, which tallies with what we thought.  There are luxury apartment buildings next to the police station, and he took her to an apartment: number 6, Harbourside.  They entered via a back entrance not covered by our CCTV, although the company managing the building might have some.  Infuriating that it was so close!

“Once there, he gave her a pendant and some instructions including a verbal message, and showed her a photo of a woman he said was called Zee who she was to deliver these things to.  After that, he told her to sit on the sofa and wait.  He was pacing about, on the balcony most of the time, constantly on his phone, and at some point, he seemed to get quite excited and more focused, staring down at the harbour with some binoculars.  Then he told her to go down to the pier, where she’d find the woman.  So, she found Zee, and gave her the message and the pendant as instructed.  She was free to go after that, went to work.  She was late, but told them she’d had an important errand to run that couldn’t wait, although she couldn’t really explain what.  She was very confused.  At the end of her shift, she came to the pub and basically sat nursing her drink, trying to work out what had happened.  She said she’d never normally do that.  She’d always go straight home.”

“Definitely him.  But how did he know they’d be here?  How did he find them?”

“More importantly, right now, we have a lead: the apartment.  They’re mostly holiday lets in that building.”

“Hmm.  But… he must have known we’d try to track her.  From everything Crowley and Aziraphale have told me about how Kilgrave operates, he doesn’t leave loose ends.  If he allows you to have information, it’s because he wants you to have it, so if he really didn’t want us to know about the apartment, he’d have… well, he’d have told her to walk off the end of the pier or something.”

“But that would be…”

“Remember the things we told you about him.  He doesn’t leave loose ends.”

Ellie nodded, swallowing anxiously.

“Maybe he made a mistake?”

“He doesn’t really make mistakes.”  The Doctor considered for a second.  “Let me ask Crowley.” 

He told Crowley all the information Ellie had discovered, ending with his concerns that the ease of discovering it suggested it was a trap.

‘Yep.  He definitely means for us to know about the apartment.  What does he want though?  I mean, the message he sent indicates that he still wants Zee.  He uses humans as bargaining chips, so… well, previously he demanded her in exchange for not murdering a load of people.  He almost got his brain melted though, so not sure why he’d try that again.  He shouldn’t want me anywhere near him.’

‘So perhaps he’s not there?’ the Doctor suggested.

‘Of course!  He’ll have moved somewhere else already!’

‘So…?’

‘He may have left a message,’ Crowley speculated.  ‘Could be booby-trapped though, if he wants to demonstrate his power.  I’ll ask Alec to check the ownership of the apartment.  And I’ll tell Aziraphale to go back to the cottage, so there’s no suggestion he’s watching out for you.’

‘We’ll have to go and take a look.  If we can get him to trust that we’re stupid enough to keep investigating without you, it might make it easier for me to get to him.’

‘I’ll teleport back to the police station and keep an eye on that apartment building until you arrive.  But we need to take care, Doctor.  This is exactly how the security guard got killed.’  Even telepathically, the Doctor could hear the heartbreak and the guilt in Crowley’s words, and feel that guilt inside himself through their bond.

*

Ellie’s car pulled up outside the police station.

“Ellie?” the Doctor said quietly.

She turned, smiling at him.

“Weird to hear that name in his voice,” she responded.

“Sorry, Miller.”  He gave her a little smile.  “I can’t guarantee your safety.  I’ll be as careful as I can, but he is clever and has no regard for human life.”

“You think being a police officer isn’t dangerous?”

“Not usually this dangerous.”

Ellie nodded, her face very serious now.

“I get it.  But this town contains all the people I love, and I will do what is necessary to keep them safe.”

The Doctor broke character briefly.

“Good on you, Ellie Miller,” he smiled. 

Something moved in the shadows of the police station and they both glimpsed Crowley briefly, although affected not to see the demon.  “Crowley will be close by, and I’ll be able to communicate with her.”

The Doctor thought it worth taking a small risk and used his sonic to override the security on the entrance to the apartment building, shielding the keypad with their bodies so it wouldn’t be spotted.  They made their way carefully up to Apartment 6, and Ellie knocked on the door.  Nobody answered, so she knocked again, announcing the presence of police, while the Doctor kept a close watch on the hallway and staircase, keeping Crowley informed of developments.  There was still no answer, so he used his sonic again to unlock the door.

Before they entered, the Doctor discreetly scanned the apartment and found no life signs. 

“Just us, Miller.  Proceed with caution.”

Assuming that Kilgrave would already know of their presence, they figured it was ok to turn the lights on, making it easier to see what they were doing, although when they entered the living room, they spotted the expected note on the coffee table immediately. 

‘Just a note, Crowley.’  The Doctor picked it up and read it, transmitting the contents to Crowley as he did so. 

‘I only want her.  Return her to me and I will leave the rest of you alone.  Midday tomorrow, I will send somebody to collect her from the same bench as today.  If she is not there, I will begin reminding people what this town is most famous for.  There will be no more warnings this time.  No games.’

He passed the note to Ellie, who also read it.  She looked up at him afterwards.

“Cliffs and murder; that’s what Broadchurch is most famous for,” she said.

“And I doubt he’s planning to post beautiful photos of the cliffs onto the internet,” the Doctor replied.  “Come on, let’s go.”  He began to head back to the door, pausing by Ellie and placing his hand on her shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze.  ‘We’re going back to the cottage, Crowley.’

*

When they arrived, Aziraphale opened the door to receive the three of them, Crowley having waited to walk back up the hill with the others, although they of course had to pretend he wasn’t there.  Alec and Jack were waiting in the living room, and the angel watched as Jack instantly jumped up when they entered the room, running over to embrace his partner, holding him tightly.  The Doctor buried his face in Jack’s shoulder, returning the hug.

“How is she?” the Time Lord asked.

“Sleeping.  Aziraphale says she won’t wake until morning, so I thought I could take a short break to check on you.”

“Thank you.”

Jack kissed his forehead.  When he pulled back, he let his eyes wander over the Doctor’s face.

“This beard… kinda sexy.”  The Time Lord blushed and gave his partner a little smile.  Jack took his hand and guided him over to the armchair by the window, where he sat, pulling the Doctor down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around him.     

There was a tray with drinks waiting for the newcomers, and while they were out, Aziraphale had conjured some personalised mugs into existence so they all had their own.  The ones labelled, ‘Ellie’ and ‘the Doctor’ were still on the tray, but the angel passed them to their rightful recipients.  Ellie had taken a spot on the sofa next to Alec, while Crowley was draped over the back of the armchair where the angel resumed his presence once he’d handed the Doctor his tea.

There was a brief silence as they all settled, and Aziraphale glanced around at the group, sensing the different emotions and feelings in the room.  His eyes landed on Alec.  The angel had noticed that although the man feigned disinterest frequently, he actually watched everything very closely with his keen detective’s gaze.  The fact that he was fed up with everything that was happening, and all it was forcing him to learn about the universe, was genuine, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t taking it all in and trying very hard to either explain it all logically, or assimilate it into his understanding.

Since his doppelgänger had returned, Alec had barely taken his eyes off him for a second, presumably at least partly out of intrigue since the Doctor had been out all evening pretending to be him, but also not without minutely observing the interactions between the Time Lord and his partner.  Aziraphale was very used to how constantly the Doctor and Jack touched each other; contact (when they were together), seeming to be almost as necessary to their existence as oxygen.  But Alec was watching with a fascinating blend of emotions in his eyes not least of which was an intense curiosity, and Aziraphale was becoming convinced that the aversion to touch he presented to the world was really an embarrassed attempt to disguise how chronically touch-starved he was.  There was yearning in those eyes as he watched Jack thread his strong fingers tenderly through the tousle of the Doctor’s hair, the Time Lord snuggled against his partner in his usual way, unembarrassed in front of the newest members of the group, which also struck Aziraphale actually, indicating how emotionally drained the Doctor was.

The yearning was buried of course, behind layers of habitual irritation and purely professional interest, but it was there.  The angel glanced up at the ceiling; under normal circumstances, Zee would have enjoyed this one.  With a twinkle in her own big brown eyes, she’d have set to work on peeling back the layers, disarming his defences with her smile, flustering him with her flirting, and demonstrating to him the importance of letting oneself love.  She’d immediately see how much he secretly longed for affection, and offer it freely from the apparently limitless wells inside her own heart, until he could no longer hide the joy he received from her hugs, the clasp of her hand in his, warm kisses pressed to his scruffily bearded cheeks.  Tears pooled behind Aziraphale’s eyes as he was reminded how much had been taken, from the woman he loved and from all of them.

Crowley seemed to sense his angel’s distress, as the demon’s hand drifted down to tenderly caress his neck, long fingers playing with his collar.  The touch renewed Aziraphale’s strength, and he cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the room.

“So, you’ve visited the apartment, and the detective inspector has been doing some digging around the circumstances under which Kilgrave is renting it.  Perhaps we should begin with some information sharing, and then develop our plans accordingly.  Doctor?”

“There was a note at the apartment,” the Time Lord murmured.  “Ellie?”

“Oh yes, I have it,” Ellie responded. 

“Could you read it to us please, detective sergeant?” Aziraphale requested.

Ellie smiled and nodded, unfolding the piece of paper she’d just taken from her bag and reading its contents aloud.  The increasing anger in the room was tangible as she proceeded.

“You said earlier,” Alec commented once she’d finished, addressing Aziraphale and Crowley directly and with steel in his words, “that he doesn’t bluff, and has no problem causing people to die, as easily as you or I would draw breath.”

“That’s correct,” Crowley growled, clearly unnerved by Alec’s tone.  Aziraphale clasped the hand that was still sat at his neck, aiming to calm the demon.

“So, he will start murdering people tomorrow afternoon if we do not meet his demand.”  There was a simmering anger audible in the detective’s voice.

“That appears likely,” Aziraphale replied in a steady, diplomatic tone.  Alec appeared lost in thought for several seconds, probably unaware that all eyes were on him.  Eventually he stood up and crossed to the window, drawing back the curtain a fraction so he could look out, then turning back to face his audience.

“Not in my town.  Not on my watch.”  He sighed.  “You know, there’s a version of this where you all just piss off out of Broadchurch and he follows you, and we don’t have to worry about any of this.”  Sighing again and rubbing his hands over his face, he then fixed his gaze on the Doctor.  “I think we can get you close to him before the deadline.”  Resting his hands on his hips, he gave his doppelgänger a very stern look.  “But then it’s up to you to keep the people of this town safe.”          

Chapter Text

Jack’s arms tightened around the Doctor’s slender frame.

“He’s putting himself right on the front line.  There’s no need for that tone,” he told Alec, voice quiet and vaguely threatening in his partner’s defence.  The Doctor pressed a hand gently to his cheek.

“It’s ok, Jack,” he said softly, before turning to look at the detective, who didn’t seem to have flinched in the face of Jack’s words.  “I’ll do everything I can to keep everyone safe.” 

Alec nodded. 

“Right.  Well, I looked into the apartment you visited.  It’s owned by a retired couple, James and Charlotte Wilson.  Only in their late fifties; he was a banker in the City so they retired wealthy and young.  I called and spoke with Mr Wilson on the phone this evening.  They have one of the houses just along from here, perhaps 100m or so further down the cliff, where they live most of the time, and the apartment in town, which they let out to create some additional income.  Keeps them in regular luxury cruises apparently.”

He was addressing the room as if it was the office at the police station, and the Doctor smiled, impressed by the performance.  Fortunately, the Time Lord’s brain could take in both the content of the speech and its style, gaining more insight into the character he was playing while simultaneously understanding the situation.  Alec’s response to the note had also been telling; he clearly disliked drama, wanting to be seen as pragmatic and unemotional, but was also willing to do whatever it took to defend anything and anyone he deemed to be under his protection, because he actually was driven by emotion.  He just hid it well.  The Doctor liked him.

“Late on Saturday night, a man visited their home and told them he was going to rent the apartment from them immediately and for an unspecified amount of time.  They already had a booking for the week and the guest had checked in that afternoon, but the stranger instructed them to cancel it and tell the guest to leave, which they did, there and then.”

“Definitely him then,” Crowley muttered.  “I can’t believe he’s been so close.”

“Evicting a guest like that will reflect very poorly on them, make them look untrustworthy.  Could really affect their business going forward,” Ellie commented.

“Indeed,” Alec agreed.  “Judging by their record on the rental site, and from what I could find out about them, the action was entirely out of character.”

“They had no choice,” Crowley said, a little growl emerging from his throat.  “Carry on.”

“Both yesterday and today, he’s visited them at 10am.  You suggested in your explanations that his control lasts for around twenty-four hours, so he’s presumably been reinforcing it, although on both days he’s also taken James out with him.  The first time it was to ask questions about the local area and people.  He had James drive him around town, giving him a tour.”  Alec rolled his eyes at this point.  “Apparently James then told him that he looked just like a local policeman.  I don’t know these people, but he recalled seeing me on the local news a few times and had seen me around the harbour, near the police station.”

“So, he already knew there was a doppelgänger?” Jack asked.

“Presumably,” Crowley responded.  “Given his previous experience, he’d acknowledge the possibility of such a scenario, and at this point we definitely work on the assumption that he knows.  He’s thorough, and will have made sure to check whether it was simply a figure of speech or something more.”

“Fortunately, it also means the Wilsons won’t be too overwhelmed when ‘DI Hardy’ turns up at their house just before 10am tomorrow,” Alec stated, almost rolling his eyes again when everybody stared at him.  “So that you can be there when Kilgrave visits, offering yourself right up into his hands,” he continued, directing his words at the Doctor, who felt Jack’s fingers flexing and holding him tighter.  He nodded, swallowing deeply. 

“The perfect excuse,” Crowley muttered, fixing his currently bared golden gaze on the Time Lord, concern in those serpentine eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” the Doctor said determinedly.  He took a sip of his tea in an attempt to appear relaxed.  “Just have to do everything he tells me.”

“Including if he tells you to hurt yourself,” Jack pointed out, almost hurting the Doctor himself with the tightness of his grip on his partner. 

“That is how he often tests it,” Crowley confirmed.  “That, or telling you to do something that hurts someone else.”  The Doctor nodded.  “And you’ll need to pay attention; he can be subtle in his instructions and you can’t miss anything.”

“What’s your plan once you’re with him?” Alec asked.

“I find out where we can get to him, what his plans are, and who is under his control.  I try to locate the real pendant and swap it for the fake.  And I do everything I can to prevent him hurting anyone.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

The Doctor shrugged.

“Improvising.  I’ll have to respond to the specific circumstances.”

“He’s very good at improvising,” Aziraphale suggested, smiling fondly at the Doctor.  There was real worry in his eyes too, and the Doctor felt nervous at how concerned they all appeared to be about him. 

“Until someone flirts with him,” Ellie said as she sipped her tea, raising an eyebrow in the Time Lord’s direction.  Her comment instantly broke the tension in the room.

“I knew it!” Crowley exclaimed, seizing on her words.  “Who were you flirting with?”

The Doctor blushed brightly, glancing at Jack who had also raised an eyebrow, although he had a faint smirk on his lips.

“He flirted with me!  I just… I didn’t… I wasn’t really sure what to do.”

“You definitely flirted!” Ellie laughed, seeming to enjoy giving them all a moment’s respite from their anxiety.  “It was the sexy paramedic from the pier.”

Alec made a sort of strangled sound in his throat when she said that, and everyone looked at him. 

“You… you… the… the paramedic…” he spluttered, finally giving up trying to speak and simply groaning, head in his hands.  Then he seemed to recover slightly, and his head shot back up, eyes narrowed and fixed intensely on the Doctor.  “You flirted with him while he thought you were me!”   

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know what to do.  And I don’t think I really flirted…”

“You didn’t tell him to piss off, which is what the real Alec Hardy would have done.”

“Well… now I wouldn’t have been rude, Miller.” Alec protested.  She gave him a challenging look and he stirred beneath her gaze.  “Ok, so I might not have been… welcoming.”

“I let you out of my sight for half a day and you’re flirting with other men?” Jack murmured in the Doctor’s ear.  The Time Lord turned and looked into his partner’s eyes with a small smile on his lips, blushing even harder. 

“Oh, he’s big Jack,” Crowley teased, although there was a somewhat dreamy tone to the demon’s voice.  “Got to be six seven, strong, muscular…  Just the kind of guy who could pin you down…”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished.  “This is not the time for any of those kinds of exploits!”

“Just stating the facts, setting the scene for dear Jack,” the demon grinned, although he wrapped an arm snugly around the angel’s shoulder, long fingers stroking the fabric of his jacket.  He was clearly trying to find some distraction in the conversation but not entirely succeeding.

Alec’s mouth had dropped open at the description, his mind clearly working in the background.  He’d conversed with Mark on the pier, but it seemed the ideas evinced by Crowley had not occurred to him before, particularly the part about Mark being capable of pinning one down. 

Jack was stroking the Doctor’s back, chuckling softly to himself, but the Time Lord was watching the detective, concerned he may have caused a problem in not dealing with the paramedic’s advances as Alec would have done.  He saw a blush creep up the man’s neck, an uncomfortable shuffle as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then Alec cleared his throat.

“Can we please get back onto task?” he requested weakly.

“Good lord,” Aziraphale sighed exasperatedly, glancing between both the ‘Alec Hardys’ in the room and taking in their identically blushing cheeks, particularly in the context of his husband’s dreamy tone.  “The man was handsome, yes.  But does he really merit this kind of response?  You’re like a group of blushing schoolgirls!”

“You’re a top, angel.  You wouldn’t understand.”  Crowley kissed the words into Aziraphale’s hair, winking at the Doctor, who blushed some more. 

“Please…” Alec squeaked, returning to his seat next to Ellie, looking very flushed and slightly unsteady on his feet.  She was giggling uncontrollably and he glared at her, although it made little difference. 

“Yes, sorry,” Aziraphale responded, straightening into a more businesslike position on his chair and almost knocking Crowley off the back of it in the process.  “It’s time Ellie went home and spent some time with her family.”  This did finally stop her laughing and she nodded gratefully.  “And I think, Doctor, you should go to DI Hardy’s house.  One of you needs to be there, and it will make things easier in the morning if it’s you.  We won’t need to swap you over.”  The Doctor nodded, feeling Jack’s arms tightening again, reluctant to let him go.  He snuggled closer to his partner, acknowledging the sentiment.

“I’ll accompany you,” Crowley added, slipping the Tardis key from around his neck and tucking it into his pocket.  “Although we’re selling the narrative that you’re going about your work independently, it makes sense that I’d walk you home after you’ve visited us to report on the note.”

“What do I do?” Alec asked quietly, apparently not quite recovered from the previous conversation.

“You may stay here, detective,” Aziraphale confirmed.  Alec just nodded resignedly. 

Plan agreed, everyone prepared to move, except Alec, who sat on his end of the sofa looking bewildered.  Ellie briefly patted him on the shoulder and he gave her a little nod, before fixing her with a more intent look.

“Be careful out there, Miller.”

She nodded.

Jack held the Doctor to him tightly for as long as he could, and the Time Lord turned his attention back to his partner, knowing he’d be finding the whole scenario incredibly difficult. 

“Come back to me, sweetheart,” Jack whispered.  “Please.”

“Of course I will.  I always do.”

“Use that brain of yours.  He’s smart, but you’re smarter.”

“Obviously.”

“Doc…”

“I’ll be careful, Jack.  I promise.  Just… being careful might mean taking some risks in this instance.”

“Doctor, are you ready?” Crowley called from across the room.  The Doctor shifted in Jack’s arms, giving him a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too.”

Then the Doctor finally left the comfort of his partner’s embrace, crossing the room towards the demon and Ellie, who were both ready to leave.

“Take care of yourself, Doctor,” Aziraphale said as he passed, reaching out and squeezing the Time Lord’s hand.  “I know you’re committed to this, but if he goes too far… we can find another plan.  She wouldn’t forgive any of us, including you.  Remember that.”  The angel leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against the Doctor’s cheek. 

*

Jack was standing listlessly in the centre of the room when Aziraphale re-entered after seeing the others off at the door.  The angel approached him and wrapped him in a hug. 

“He’ll be ok, Jack.”

Jack exhaled deeply, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck.  When he straightened, he looked into the angel’s eyes.

“He has a terrible habit of trying to play the self-sacrificing hero.”

“Crowley won’t let him.  He’ll intervene if necessary.”

Jack nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to go and sit with Zee,” he announced.  Aziraphale let him go, understanding that Jack needed space, and that the ‘task’ of watching over his sleeping friend was the only thing making him feel useful enough not to go out of his mind. 

As Jack’s footsteps made creaky progress up the cottage’s old stairs, the angel turned to Alec. 

“Would you like to sleep?  There’s a spare bedroom and I can miracle you up some pyjamas.”  Alec blinked at him, possibly wondering how literally to take the phrasing regarding the pyjamas.  “I don’t generally bother with sleep myself, so if you’d prefer not to, then I’m happy to… um… hang out?  Is that the phrase?”  Aziraphale crinkled his nose in confusion.

After a few more seconds of staring, Alec’s mouth curved into what the angel could perceive was a very slight smile. 

“I don’t think I can sleep.  Is there anything I can be doing?  CCTV?  Background checks?”

Aziraphale returned his smile.

“Did we track Kilgrave on the CCTV yet?”  Alec shook his head.  “Well, I suppose that will keep us occupied.  I’ll make some more tea.” 

They made their way through to the kitchen where the angel put the kettle on. 

“I’ll be… in my office, I suppose,” Alec informed him, clearly disliking the phrasing, and eyeing the Tardis suspiciously.  Aziraphale laughed.

“Oh, DI Hardy.  I’ve lived on this planet for six thousand years, and that ship still surprises me.  You know, I had to expand my own understanding of the universe tremendously to accommodate the Doctor in it, but I’ll tell you something… he’s worth it.  And the universe is worth it, too.  Just take it all in.”

Alec nodded slowly, slid his hand over the doorframe as if checking once again that it was real, and then stepped into the ship.  Aziraphale smiled to himself as he watched, before returning his attention to the kettle.

*

“Will you be ok?”

Crowley asked the question of the Doctor, who was stood on the doorstep of Alec’s house. 

“Of course.”

“Right.”  The demon switched to telepathic communication just in case anyone was listening.  ‘After I’ve dropped Ellie off, I’ll head back to the cottage.  You can call if you need anything.  I’ll use the perception filter in the morning and make sure I’m close by when you visit the Wilsons.’

‘Yeah.’

A round of goodnights followed, and Ellie and Crowley set off down the hill and across town, leaving the Doctor to make himself at home in his doppelgänger’s house.  There was silence for a while, but then Ellie spoke.

“We bumped into a friend of mine earlier this evening, in the pub.”  Crowley merely lifted an eyebrow in response but it was enough to encourage her to continue.  “Beth Latimer.  You might remember…”

“Danny’s mum,” the demon responded.  The murder of the boy still appeared very prominently on search engines when you looked for information about the town and he had read about it before their trip.

“Yeah.  Well, she’s a support worker nowadays, retrained after… well… everything.  Needed a new focus.”  She took a deep breath, eyes fixed on Crowley, presumably to gauge his response.  “She works specifically with survivors of sexual assault.”

Crowley gulped nervously. 

“And you think…”

“I know Zee’s had support from all of you, and from your friend...”

“Malcolm.”

“Yeah.  But I think it might be helpful for her to meet Beth.  She can provide professional advice and a different viewpoint.  One without all the… other stuff.  If you strip away all the mind control and the magic… Zee’s a woman who’s experienced a very specific, very intimate kind of violence.  It might help her to talk with someone specially trained to deal with that.”

“Zee chose to talk to Malcolm because he understood the full picture.”

“And I understand that completely.  It’s not a scenario most would easily comprehend, and I’m sure the last thing she needed was someone questioning her sanity.  But doing this job, I’ve met too many women who’ve been through this kind of thing, and it’s unique, completely unlike other kinds of assault.  Malcolm’s a man, and with the best will in the world… they can’t understand it like we can.”

Crowley opened his mouth to speak but Ellie continued talking, probably believing she was countering the argument he was going to make.  “As her partner, you’re too close.  Having another woman to speak to, a professional, even if it’s just a one-off conversation… could fill in some gaps and really help her.” 

He closed his mouth again, not seeing the advantage in disturbing Ellie’s belief that he was a woman.  They had more important things to worry about. 

“I’ll speak to Aziraphale.”

“Let me know, if you want to.  I’ll arrange it.”

“Thanks.”  Crowley looked at her.  “Really.  Thank you for thinking about her.”

“World’s gone mad since this afternoon, but it’s only a few hours ago Alec and I rushed to help a woman in distress on the pier.”  She glanced over; they were walking across the bridge now and the pier was lit up beyond, just a few people enjoying a late stroll along it.  “I witnessed the terror in her eyes when she saw Alec.  Never seen anything like it, even doing the job I do.  I can’t begin to imagine what he did… but if I can do anything that will help her…”

Crowley looked away, blinking back tears behind his sunglasses. 

“Sorry,” Ellie added.  “You probably don’t want to…”

“I don’t have to imagine it, Ellie.”  He gulped down a sob, growling in the back of his throat as he tried to contain his emotions.  “I saw.  I had to look inside her mind and overcome his instructions so that we could get her out, and her memories were right there.  I saw the things he did.  Do you have any idea what that’s like?  To witness that… when it’s someone you love?”

“Oh god… oh, I’m so sorry.”  Ellie stopped and grasped Crowley’s arm, turning the demon to face her and placing her other hand on his shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Crowley made a frustrated sound, looking anywhere but at Ellie, squirming in her grip. 

“I saw that.  And then I had the chance to kill him, to end it all.  And I didn’t do it.  And now he’s here, and he’s going to kill people, and the Doctor’s stepping right into danger, and Zee’s had to face it all again, and it’s all because I didn’t kill him when I had the chance!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellie responded softly, stroking her hands over his arms.  “I know you want to protect your loved ones, but making yourself into a murderer… I’ve seen what that can do to a person.”

“’m a demon, not the same.  Different moral standards,” Crowley muttered bitterly.

“You’re the worst bloody demon I’ve ever met.”  She sounded exasperated and Crowley looked at her, eyebrow raised significantly.

“I’m the only demon you’ve ever – knowingly – met.”

Ellie laughed.

“Point stands though.  You love them.  All of them.”  She shook her head in bewilderment.  “The Doctor told me a bit about how things are between you all, and it’s a bit beyond my experience to be honest, but I can see that you love them.”

Crowley stirred again, releasing himself from her grasp and continuing their walk.  That was more than enough four-letter-word talk.

“Come on, DS Miller.  Let’s get you back to your loved ones.”

“Not, I imagine, typical demon behaviour,” Ellie joked, smirking at him as she followed.  He rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh.  “Nor is being married to an angel though, I suspect.”

“It’s more common than you’d think,” he responded drily.

“Ooh, this sounds like an opportunity for some good girly gossip, Antonia!”  Ellie hesitated.  “Actually, the others call you Crowley.  Do you prefer that?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?  Surname?”

“We only have one name,” Crowley explained.  “Aziraphale.  Crowley.  Only, for casual human interactions it can be easier to have something more commonplace.  Ezra Fell.  Anthony or Antonia Crowley.”

Ellie mused on that for a moment.

“You’re not always… well, not a woman at all, I suppose… but female.  Not always female, are you?”

Crowley smiled at her, shaking his head. 

“Angels and demons have no inherent biological sex,” he said.  Ellie nodded.

“Right.”  She glanced down his body.  “But you have… something.  The Doctor implied that you… engage in sexual activities.” 

Crowley’s smile slipped into a smirk.

“I can have whatever I wish to have.”  He paused their walk again, the better to observe her reaction.  “Our human corporations are quite flexible.  Mine is male most of the time.  The female one is primarily for Zee’s sake right now.”

“That explains why they occasionally use male pronouns for you.  I did wonder.”  Ellie tilted her head in thought.  “Is your male ‘corporation’ as pretty as your female one?”

Crowley simply smirked harder, and proceeded along the path.

*

“How are you?  With… well, everything?” Aziraphale asked.

Alec was sipping his tea.  CCTV footage from the area surrounding the police station and adjacent apartment buildings was on the computer screen in front of him.  He glanced at the man next to him, an angel apparently, and sighed.

“How literally am I supposed to take it all?” he asked exasperatedly.  “Like… you, for instance.  You tell me you’re an angel, but I don’t know… shouldn’t you have a halo and wings and be singing ‘Hallelujah’?  Shouldn’t you be in Heaven?  You’re just here, in Broadchurch, holidaying with your friends.  Shouldn’t you be off announcing virgin births or something?”

Aziraphale giggled.

“Well, that was Gabriel.  And terrifically pompous he was about it too.”  He gave a little sigh.  “I have a halo and wings.  When I’m on Earth, in my human corporation, they’re hidden, existing on a plane adjacent to the physical one Earth exists in.  And as for ‘Hallelujah’; I never much enjoyed those choral activities.  Humans are far better at music than angels.”  There was a huffy, irritated tone in his voice then, which made Alec smile in spite of himself.  “I’ve been on Earth since its creation, around humans all that time.  I suppose I must pass for human exceptionally well by now.”  Alec cocked his head and made a thoughtful noise in his throat.  The angel was not entirely wrong, although they came across as a slightly odd human.  Eccentric.

“And Heaven?” Alec prompted.

“Oh.  Awful place.  Earth is far better.”

“Isn’t Hell supposed to be the awful one?”

“In my experience, they’re just as terrible as each other, just differently so.”

“Not much to hope for when we die then,” Alec suggested mournfully.  Aziraphale smiled at him.

“Make the most of living, DI Hardy,” the angel replied somewhat cryptically.  Alec stared at him, blinked a few times, sighed again, and turned back to the screen.  He was very aware that Aziraphale was still watching him, and smiling that annoyingly knowing smile he had.  Alec had no interest in being known.  He tried to focus on the footage they were studying.

“Biscuit?”

Alec started at the further interruption to his attempts to concentrate.  Turning slightly, he saw a plate of assorted biscuits being thrust towards him by the angel.  He pulled a face and returned his attention to the computer screen, without offering a proper response.  “You should really eat, detective,” Aziraphale insisted.  With an even heavier sigh than previously, Alec glanced back at the plate and took a Rich Tea, the blandest option on offer, and shoved it unceremoniously into his mouth.  “Aren’t you going to dunk that?” the angel exclaimed, apparently horrified by his behaviour.  Alec ignored the question.

There was a huff from his companion, and then the plate was returned to the desk, Aziraphale taking a bourbon cream, and eating it with an abundance of relish entirely inappropriate for a simple biscuit.  In Alec’s opinion, the satisfied moans emerging from his mouth were also entirely unangelic.  Perhaps part of the problem with all the new things he was learning, was that they didn’t even tally with his expectations of such things.  If he’d ever seriously considered the existence of angels and demons (which he hadn’t), then he certainly wouldn’t have anticipated that they’d be like the ones he’d met today.  The inquisitive part of his brain wondered if they were representative of their type or anomalous.  Then he internally told himself off for even asking such a ridiculous question. 

He sighed again and reached across for another biscuit, a custard cream this time.  He was voluntarily eating snacks… that was how bad things were. 

“Oh… shit!” he exclaimed a couple of seconds later. 

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, alarmed.  Alec paused the footage and pointed at the screen.

“That’s the paramedic, from the pier.”

“Oh!”  The angel leaned forward and studied the still image.  “Goodness, you’re right.  What’s he doing there?” 

Alec rewound the footage and they both watched carefully as it replayed the moments preceding his identification of Mark. 

“There!”  He pointed to a large figure walking by the harbour from the direction of the pier.  The man was approached by someone who had previously been sat on a bench.  They were gesticulating excitedly and speaking to him, before attempting to pull him in the direction of the apartment building.  “Who is that?  What are they doing?”

“Go back and see where they came from,” Aziraphale suggested.  Alec rewound again, keeping an eye on the bench.  Eventually, they saw the person move and followed them backwards… towards the apartment building.  That was where they’d come from.  As they moved closer to the camera, Alec groaned.

“That’s James Wilson,” he stated.  “I saw his picture during my research earlier.  That’s definitely him.”

“He’s under Kilgrave’s control.”

“Yep,” Alec confirmed.  “This is during the time that we were all on the pier.  The paramedic was with Zee at this point, so we can infer that Kilgrave sent Wilson out to intercept him as he left, and bring him to him.”

“And we can therefore assume that the paramedic is now under Kilgrave’s control too.”

“So, when he spoke to the Doctor in the pub, he was fishing for information.”

“The first thing he did was enquire after Zee,” Aziraphale pointed out.  “But also, I think he was trying to get closer to you, perhaps in the hope he might build trust for future use.”

They shared a concerned glance.

“Is he in danger?” Alec asked.

“Anyone who interacts with Kilgrave is in danger.  Once he feels you are no longer useful to him… well, he often cleans up after himself.  He doesn’t leave loose ends.”

“To be clear, Aziraphale… he kills them?”

The angel shook his head.

“Not exactly.  He usually makes them do it themselves.” 

Alec’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck.  Can we do anything?” Alec questioned.  “These people are valuable witnesses.”

“For the part where you take Kilgrave into custody and he somehow doesn’t immediately talk his way out of it?” Aziraphale replied, eyebrow raised quizzically. 

“Fuck.”

“You cannot solve this in your usual way, detective.  You will need to let us deal with him.  You do realise that, don’t you?”

Alec swallowed deeply, lost in thought; he hadn’t really considered what would happen after they found Kilgrave.  Aziraphale was right though.  They weren’t equipped to deal with someone possessing Kilgrave’s power.  There were no protocols for this.  The legal system wouldn’t accommodate the necessary precautions.  So, the endgame here wasn’t going to be custody and a trial…

“You’re going to kill him?”

The angel gave him a very serious look.

“I believe it may be the only way.”

“But I can’t… aiding and abetting… it’s my duty to prevent that…”

“Your participation is not required, DI Hardy.  However, you must realise that you can do nothing to prevent us.  You’ve seen enough…”

Alec stared at the angel, suddenly very conscious of the power he’d only vaguely acknowledged before.  He had seen plenty, and now his attention was drawn to it, he was cognizant of his powerlessness. 

“I don’t like to be threatened,” he said, bristling.

Aziraphale smiled again.

“I’m an angel dear.  I don’t threaten.  I am merely drawing your attention to the power dynamic here.”

Alec sighed, rubbing his hands over his face and then drawing them back through his hair. 

“Right. So, back to the question – is there anything we can do for those under Kilgrave’s control?”

“It’s dangerous.  He often lays traps, so if we try to override his control or prevent them carrying out his wishes, there will be a back-up instruction.  That can be deadly.  Both for the individuals in question and anyone who gets close to them.”

“But, if we worked out what he wanted… we could figure out a way around it?”

“With care, that’s sometimes possible,” Aziraphale admitted, “depending on the nature of the instructions.” 

Alec considered what they’d inferred about Mark’s instructions.

“We think the paramedic was hoping to develop a relationship with me… so if you found him and told him you could bring him to me, that would fulfil his instructions and we could keep him safe.”

“Potentially.”

Alec fished his notebook out of his pocket and flicked to the correct page.  He’d found a way to be helpful, and threw himself into it with enthusiasm.

“Mark Davies.  Here’s his address.  I’ll try to work something out about the woman too.  And we can keep an eye on the Wilsons, try to do something for them once the Doctor is with Kilgrave.”

Aziraphale gave him a rather amused smile, blue eyes glistening happily.

“And are you going to rescue everyone he controls?” he asked kindly.  “Every single person in the town is a potential victim.  What do you propose to do with them all?”

Alec shifted on his chair.  He hadn’t thought that far ahead.  They’d created safe spaces though…

“The places you’ve warded.  They can be safe houses.”

“Inviting individuals under Kilgrave’s control into our safe spaces is like inviting the wolf into the henhouse, detective.  And we cannot keep everyone safe.”

Knitting his brows, Alec frowned.

“We can start with the paramedic though.  You said yourself how wonderful he was with Zee; he should be kept safe.”

Aziraphale studied Alec for several moments. 

“You’re quite right,” he agreed eventually, standing up and smoothing down his waistcoat.  “I’ll fetch him.  Crowley will be back soon, and he can check that the man’s presence won’t be dangerous to anybody.”

“I’ll keep noting any movements in and out of the apartment.  And I’d like to speak with Mr Davies, once we know it’s safe, get more of a sense of how this all works.”

“Is this a case now, Detective Inspector?”

Alec scowled at the angel.

“Apparently not, but if I can make it one… I’d prefer there to be no deaths on my watch.”

The angel smiled.

“On that we can agree.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale had never needed to learn how to operate the mobile phone he’d acquired several months ago, because the device was perfectly amenable to his every request.  He simply asked it to provide him with the information he required or instructed it to communicate with the person intended, and it did so. 

Thus, he had found his way very easily to the home of Mark Davies (a miracle enabling him to leave the cottage undetected by the poor soul who’d been sat on the bench outside for the past few hours), with detailed instructions provided by the cheery voice of his interactive assistant.  As he stood on the pavement before the door, he thanked them and slid the phone back into his pocket, quickly checking that he wasn’t being observed, although it was highly unlikely Kilgrave would be having Mark watched.  Then he knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered by the handsome paramedic who’d been causing so much trouble since his first appearance on the pier that afternoon (and he was handsome; that just didn’t have quite the same effect on Aziraphale as it appeared to have on everyone else).

The door was opened and Mark stood in the doorway, dressed casually in dark grey sweatpants and a blue t-shirt.  He was blinking confusedly at the angel, clearly recognising him, but with no comprehension what he was doing here. 

“Yes?”

“Good evening, Mr Davies.  We met earlier today…”

“I never gave you my surname,” the man answered slightly hesitantly.  “Or my address,” he added, tone indicating that he was very much on his guard. 

“Ah, yes.  Well… the um… the detective inspector…”

“Oh?” Mark said, eyes widening with interest, and Aziraphale realised that they were on the right track, the reference to Alec acting like a password to unlock Mark’s interest.  “Is he here?” the man asked, leaning out of the doorway and peering down the street.  Aziraphale tried very hard to prevent himself smiling.  This was far too easy.  Possibly suspiciously so, but that would mean Kilgrave speculating and planning for them to take an interest in this person, and even for Kilgrave, that was… excessively complex planning.

“No.  But…” – he had Mark’s full attention now – “I could take you to him.”

“Yes.  We were interrupted at the pub earlier, just when I felt we were getting to know each other.”

Aziraphale did smile then.  He’d planned to pretend that Zee had suffered another panic attack and they required Mark’s assistance, but even that flimsy ruse clearly wasn’t going to be necessary.   

“I suppose you’d better come with me then.”

*

Crowley found the cottage quiet when he returned.  He couldn’t sense Aziraphale’s presence and after a brief flicker of anxiety, came to the conclusion that he must be in the Tardis, which was a separate dimension and therefore always blocked him from sensing either his husband’s familiar angelic aura, or the Doctor through their bond.

Entering the kitchen, he found the door to the ship open, and went inside, making his way down to the office he’d created for Alec.  He still couldn’t sense Aziraphale though, and when he got there, he found the detective alone.

“Where’s Aziraphale?” he enquired, anxiety rising inside him again.  Alec was focused on the screen in front of him.

“Gone to fetch Mark Davies,” he answered quite absentmindedly.

“Who?” 

Alec paused the footage he was studying and turned around.

“The paramedic.  We discovered that he’s had contact with Kilgrave, so Aziraphale is going to bring him here so that we can protect him.”

“What?!”

Crowley was suddenly furious, a quite frightening addition to his already completely baffled state that made the temperature in the room rise quickly. 

“Well, it’s dangerous to have any connection to…”

“YES, it’s bloody dangerous!  So why the heaven is he…  WHAT?!”  Crowley gave up on words, utterly exasperated, certain that he must be the only person present with a single brain cell.  He pirouetted several times, hands tugging at his long red curls.

Alec stared at the demon, intimidated but standing up well to the anger of the celestial being.  He appeared to be quite impatiently waiting for Crowley to calm so that he could explain.  Crowley glared at him and somehow Alec didn’t disintegrate into a pile of goo on the floor.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, the detective finally spoke.

“Mr Davies is an innocent party in all of this.  He provided assistance to your partner when she needed it, and could prove to be a useful witness should we apprehend the man you allege assaulted her.  It is vital that we don’t lose him, besides the fact that I absolutely refuse to allow this Kilgrave to commit any murders on my watch.  Therefore, it is necessary to secure Mr Davies and keep him safe.”

Crowley simply stared at Alec, completely aghast, mouth wide open and eyes exhibiting his incredulity.  He obviously agreed that they should try to protect Mark if possible, but he was still extremely concerned by the prospect of bringing someone who was under Kilgrave’s control into the cottage.  It was dangerous, and while Mark was a very attractive man, the demon was far more interested in keeping his partners safe.

“Aziraphale indicated that you would be able to assist with ensuring that Mr Davies’ presence is safe” Alec continued.  “We suspect his instructions have been to secure information regarding Zee’s condition, and to attempt to become closer to me and gain my trust, but I understand that you can check and provide us with more certainty.”

Crowley nodded without really being aware of it.

“I checked him before, on the pier,” the demon stated.

“When he left us, he was accosted by James Wilson and lured towards the apartment where Kilgrave was waiting.  We’re therefore assuming that he’s under his control.”

“Fuck.”

*

Maintaining the miracle that hid both him and Mark from the spy outside the cottage, Aziraphale adjusted the building’s wards, allowing his companion to enter.  He could sense that Crowley was home, and that the demon was angry.  The angel felt suddenly guilty that he hadn’t informed his husband himself about the turn things had taken, but he’d been so focused on his task that the thought had never entered his head until this moment.

“DI Hardy is here?” Mark asked, an eagerness in his tone that continued to prove the accuracy of their theory. 

“Indeed,” Aziraphale replied, opening the door and ushering the man through into the hallway. 

They found Alec and Crowley waiting for them in the living room.  Crowley gave his angel a quick glare, before turning his attention to the human and immediately pushing his power into the man’s mind.  Several seconds later, after withdrawing his power, a gesture prevented Mark from hearing their conversation and he reported his findings to Aziraphale and Alec, giving the detective a curious look before beginning his explanation.

“Exactly as you thought; he was told to discover Zee’s condition, and to cultivate his acquaintance with Alec and gain his trust.  He met with Kilgrave again this evening after the meeting in the pub, to update him on what happened there.  During that meeting Kilgrave told him to take advantage of any opportunity to get closer to Alec.”

“Is he a danger to us?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head.

“None of his instructions involve causing us harm.  However… I can’t interfere with them.  If anybody, although that basically means me, tries to override them, he’ll find the nearest sharp object and jam it repeatedly into his own neck.  Back-up plan, as always.”

“And he’d just…” Alec queried, “do that?”   

“He’d have no choice,” Crowley responded grimly.  “And he’d know what he was doing.  That’s the truly horrific part, the part that split Zee’s mind.  Kilgrave’s victims remain aware of what they’re doing and the consequences of it, but cannot prevent themselves from carrying out the instruction.”

“Fuck.”

“You can talk with him.  He’ll be pleased to.  Just don’t share any of our plans or anything.”

Alec scowled.

“I’m not stupid,” he protested.

“Hmm.”  Crowley snapped away the miracle keeping their conversation from Mark, who was sat on the sofa looking very confused.  “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

With that, the angel and demon left the room, and Alec found himself alone with Mark.  He took a deep breath before turning to face him.

“Mr Davies,” he said, standing in the centre of the room and looking down at the figure on the sofa.  Now he was being spoken to (and by Alec, no less), Mark’s features brightened.

“Hello again, detective.”

Alec swallowed, recalling all the things he’d heard said about this man.  As they were positioned currently his height was less obvious, although Alec could see he was well-built and the piercing blue eyes were fixed on him, as was the kind smile.  A strange thing, given the circumstances, that the smile should be so kind.  Genuine though, Alec suspected, because prior to the man coming under Kilgrave’s influence, a very strong sense of kindness had already been his principal impression of Mark, from their short interaction on the pier.

“Yes.  Right.  I have a few further questions for you, if I may.”  Mark nodded, and Alec sat in the armchair by the window, taking out his notebook.  “Mr Davies, we spoke earlier on the pier.”

“We did.  You can call me Mark, by the way.”  The smile widened, and Mark leaned a little towards him.  “Do you ever stop working, detective?  Because we also spoke in the pub, and I’d still like that drink.”

Alec felt his cheeks flushing and cursed the pale skin that would make it obvious.  It was unhelpful, because he really needed to maintain control of this conversation. 

“We’ve not reached that part yet, Mr Davies.  If we could approach events chronologically, please.”

“I am entirely at your service,” Mark replied, leaning back again and inclining his head.  Even that felt flirtatious, and Alec was at a loss as to how much of the man’s demeanour was genuine and how much down to the instructions he was following.  From what he understood, a singular need to carry out Kilgrave’s orders would be driving Mark’s actions, but the way he did so would draw on his existing personality and traits.  So, given the vagueness of Kilgrave’s instruction to gain his trust, it was likely that the flirting was real.  And that was somehow far more unsettling.

Alec cleared his throat.

“Mr Davies, can you tell me what happened after you left me at the pier?  Take me through your movements since.”

Mark considered briefly.

“Well, there was a man, by the fish and chip huts just as I was getting back to the road.  He approached me, quite upset, and said he needed my help.  I can never resist a call for help; it’s just not in my nature to ignore someone else’s need.  There’s a reason I do the job I do.”  He smiled again, and Alec shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  That was real, and he hated that this man’s kindness was being used and tainted by Kilgrave’s selfish desire. 

“Go on.”

“He said his wife was ill, very suddenly, and that it must be fate that had brought me to that spot in that moment.  I mean, I don’t really believe all that stuff, but he was very distressed and I followed him.  He took me into that fancy apartment building next to your police station.”

“Which apartment?” Alec prompted, pen poised over his notebook.

“Um… six?  I think.  The one at the top with the big balcony.”

Alec nodded, noting it down.

“And when you arrived?”

“Well, it was a bit odd actually, because there was no wife.  There was only another man there.  He looked just like you.  Well, like if you’d trimmed your beard and brushed your hair a bit.”  There was a teasing tone to his voice at this point, flirting again.  “And if you had a more expensive tailor,” Mark grinned.  “Anyway, I was a bit shocked, as you can imagine, but he told me it was nothing to be concerned about, so I didn’t think anything of it.  He asked me if Zee was ok, said he knew her and had seen what had happened from his balcony.  I told him she was fine, just had a panic attack but was calmer when I left.”

“You told him all that?”  Alec looked up from his notebook, surprised.  “What about patient privacy?”

“Oh… I… well…”  Mark appeared confused and seemed to flush slightly at the implication of his unprofessionalism.

Then it dawned on Alec.

“Mr Davies, what were the man’s exact words?”

Mark thought about it before answering.

“He said ‘I saw what happened from my balcony.  Tell me if Zee is ok.  I know her and I’m worried about her’.”

Tell me.  That was an instruction, not a question. 

“Right.  Go on.”

“He told me to turn off my radio and wait.  I’d almost been at the end of my shift, but I stayed in that apartment for hours, all afternoon in fact.  He didn’t interact with me much, was often on his phone.  The other man was sent on a couple of errands and they had private conversations when he returned.  Later, the man who looks like you told me you would be in The Old Oak and that I should go there and meet you.  He told me to find out how Zee was doing, and to make efforts to get to know you and gain your trust.  He took my details and said he’d call on me later, once I’d seen you again.”

“Did he give you any specific instructions about how to gain my trust?”

“Not really.”

“He didn’t tell you to…”  Alec cleared his throat again, uncomfortable but feeling that it was important to know for sure. He didn't ask himself why it might be important.  “He didn’t tell you to flirt, for example, to ask if you could buy me a drink?”

“No.  Just to… cultivate our acquaintance and gain your trust.”

“Right.”  Alec nodded.  He didn’t note that part down in his book.

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Mark asked.

“You’ve been carrying out this man’s instructions, and I want to get a clear idea of what exactly he told you to do; which of your actions are the result of those instructions and which are not.”

“Why would I do what this stranger told me to?”

Alec met Mark’s questioning gaze and swallowed deeply.  Could he tell him?  What would happen if Mark became aware that he was being controlled?  He didn’t know, and that made his mind up for him.

“It’s just a line of enquiry, Mr Davies.  Nothing to worry about.”

Mark nodded slowly, brow knitted.  He was definitely still asking the question in his own mind.

“Now, could you tell me what happened after you’d met me in the pub?” 

“Um… well after you’d stammered your way into not quite rejecting my offer of a drink, and asked a very suggestive question about our topic of conversation…” – Mark smirked a little and Alec blushed furiously, wondering what on Earth the Doctor had asked – “your colleague interrupted us and took you away.  I finished my own drink and then went home.  It isn’t usual for me to drink alone in the pub on a work night, and after I’d seen you, it seemed there was no reason for me to be there.  Later on, the man from earlier called at my house and asked about Zee again, and whether I’d become friends with you.”

“What did you say to that?” Alec asked curiously.  Mark smiled.

“I said it was a work in progress.”

*

“What were you thinking, angel?”

“I’m so sorry, Crowley.  I wasn’t thinking…”

They spoke at the same time the second they arrived in the kitchen, Crowley leaning against the table while Aziraphale stood by the sink, hands gripping the countertop tightly.  Silence followed the chaos of the words that had run over one another, and then the demon and the angel turned to face each other. 

“It’s so dangerous, angel…”

Aziraphale nodded, eyes filling with tears.

“I just… he was so wonderful with Zee…  I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d be hurt because of all this, because of something we brought here.  And we worked out what he was doing, what he’d been told to do…”

The tears began to run down the angel’s flushed cheeks.

“What if he’d had some other instruction?  What if we were supposed to bring him here?  What if he knew we’d feel sorry for this guy and want to protect him…  He knows, angel.  He knows we don’t want others to be hurt.  He’s used it against us before.”

Aziraphale nodded, sniffling, shaking hands knotting and unknotting repeatedly in front of his stomach.  Crowley sighed, love for the angel coursing through his veins as it always had and always did and always would.  He approached his husband and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into a tight hug.

“It’s ok, angel.  It’s fine, as it happens.  Just…”

“We should be more careful, dear.  I know.”

“This is what he does.  Makes us paranoid.  Because we know what he can do and we don’t know what he is doing.”

Aziraphale wriggled in Crowley’s arms and pulled back far enough to look up at him. 

“We’ll know more once the Doctor is with him.”

“Yeah.  So long as I can stay close enough to hear him.”

“You will keep him safe, Crowley?  Jack is so worried.  And Zee… oh, I dread the thought of what will happen if he comes to harm on her account.  She won’t… she can’t… she’s been through so much already.”

Crowley pressed a kiss against his angel’s forehead and drew back a hand to smooth the tears from Aziraphale’s face.

“I know.”

*

The Doctor paced around Alec’s living room, hands on his hips, anxiety wracking his features.  He’d faced so much in his life but this was hard.  Danger was fine, he could manage walking into a situation where he might not come back out.  He’d done it so often. 

But… things were different now.  He worried about Jack, always.  The tension that gripped him when he thought about the prospect of death or regeneration these days twisted his internal organs now, flashing images before his eyes of a devastated Jack left with a new Doctor who didn’t want the same things they had right now. 

Then he saw Zee in his mind.  He saw her scared and alone, facing a horror that had split her mind in two; a horror that he had failed to protect her from.  And he saw her happy and smiling in his arms, probably his favourite image, when they were dancing at Glastonbury.  Their last date.  They’d been so happy.  But he’d failed her then too.  He’d not told her the thing he was supposed to tell her. 

I love you.

And then all this had happened.  He passed his hands through his hair, groaning to himself.  The one thing he should know after all this time was never to take anything for granted, but he never learned, did he? 

He could make up for it now though.  He could play this role and undertake this task, gather the information they needed, protect everyone, and create a world in which Zee could feel safe again.  And perhaps… eventually… 

It was scary though.  He shuddered at the thought of the fear in the eyes of the angel and demon, beings so powerful and yet Kilgrave filled them with terror.  That told him how frightened he should be.  He stopped pacing and stood still, breathing slowly.  He could do this. 

*

The Doctor had deliberately taken the lower road across from Alec’s house to the Wilson’s so that he would avoid coming too near to the cottage where his friends were staying.  If Alec was acting alone, he would not advertise the visit too openly, he thought.  Now, standing on the cliff path and observing the house, he took a deep breath.  This was it. 

If Alec was correct, Kilgrave would be here in around fifteen minutes.  A quarter of an hour and he’d be face to face with not only another doppelgänger but the man who’d tortured the woman he loved.  The anger and pain bubbling up inside him scared him almost as much as the power of the man.  He knew half the battle was going to be controlling his own emotions.

He could just kill Kilgrave.

The thought had crossed his mind. 

In taking on this plan, with its aims of fact-finding and recovering the pendant, they hadn’t really made it so far as discussing their ultimate aim.  The Doctor was vaguely aware that killing the man was the most likely outcome.  The legal system here wasn’t equipped to deal with him.  UNIT might have suitable facilities for securing someone with Kilgrave’s ability, but they weren’t always reliable and he wasn’t absolutely sure of their position in this time. 

He could find another way to deal with him; a soundproofed cell onboard the Tardis, and then removing his ability to speak and trapping him somewhere appropriate, perhaps somewhere he would be a slave to the whims of some particularly brutal species.  Not a big fan of slavery generally, the Doctor, but if anyone in the whole of space and time deserved to be subjected to it…  Or perhaps he could make real his initial, instinctive desire to throw the man into the heart of a supernova and blast every cell in his body to a different part of the universe (which was killing him of course… but it would be satisfying). 

His pupils dilated into something like a glare as an awareness of his own power coursed through his veins.  The storminess that was sometimes visible in the ancient depths of his gaze was probably there.  The Oncoming Storm.  The part of him the Daleks were afraid of. 

Then he reminded himself that he was currently Alec Hardy.  The detective inspector had never even seen a Dalek. 

At least for a while, he was going to have to subject himself to the will of Kilgrave.  And not kill him.  Not act at all on the rage rushing through him. 

He swallowed, clenching his fists at his sides. 

‘Doctor, you need to remain calm.  Your anger is too intense right now.’

He’d been aware of Crowley’s presence for a while, the familiar sensation in his mind increasing as the demon had moved closer.  Out of the corner of his eye he could now see the black-clad figure with the long sweep of red cascading down from their head, keeping out of the way down a little footpath between the Wilson’s house and the next.  A slight blur told him that nobody who didn’t expect to see him would do so; he was wearing the perception filter.

‘I’m trying my best.’

‘Try harder.  You cannot let your emotions get the better of you or the whole plan will fail immediately.’       

‘It’ll be fine.’  He took a breath.  ‘How is she?’

‘She’s ok, she was eating breakfast with Jack when I left.  Before I came to you, I went with Aziraphale to fetch Ellie and meet up with her friend Beth.  I had to check her for interference so we know her visit will be safe.  Aziraphale is bringing them up to speak with Zee; it seems Beth might be able to provide some support, perhaps things that we’ve missed.’

‘Right.  Good.’

Another deep breath, rolling his shoulders to try and free himself from some of the tension that had settled there, and the Doctor stepped closer to the house.  He knocked firmly on the door, assertively as he thought a police officer should.  As he heard the key turning in the lock, he belatedly remembered to retrieve Hardy’s badge from his pocket, and closing his eyes for a moment, he summoned his character.

The door was opened by a man in his fifties, quite tall and with just the beginnings of middle-aged spread giving him a belly, with casually messy brown hair that was grey around the temples, wearing salmon-coloured chinos and a cream long-sleeved rugby shirt.  James Wilson, the Doctor presumed.  The man narrowed his eyes, looking the Doctor up and down carefully, possibly trying to work out who he was looking at, aware that this was not quite the stranger who’d turned his life upside down over the past few days.

“Yes?”

“Good morning.  Mr Wilson?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Detective Inspector Hardy of Wessex Police,” the Doctor answered, flashing his badge.  That helped him feel in character; he’d not done it before.  It was quite fun actually and he had to fight to keep a smile from his face.

“Ah.  Thought it might be.  You look like him.”  Looking him up and down again, definitely taking in what differences there were between him and Kilgrave this time, the man frowned.  “You have more questions about the apartment, I take it?”

“So, you are James Wilson, then?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I have more questions about the apartment.  And about the man currently renting it from you.”

“You better come in then.” 

The man moved out of the way and allowed the Doctor to pass by him into the hallway.  From there, he was shown into a living room with a large bay window that had a stunning view of the sea, shimmering in the morning sunshine.  A blonde woman in tight jeans and an ivory-hued blouse was sat in a chair by the window, reading a magazine.  The Doctor didn’t know much about such things but she’d definitely had work done; lip fillers and probably a facelift.  A gold watch hung loosely around her wrist and her fingers were bedecked in glittering diamonds.  He imagined Zee briefly casting her keen, expert eye over the woman and commenting afterwards on the value of her hands.

“Charl?  The detective is here to ask about the apartment,” James announced.  The woman raised her head, tossing her magazine onto a table next to the chair.  She then followed the same pattern of looking the Doctor up and down, and he noticed that neither husband nor wife exhibited much surprise at his appearance.  He supposed they’d got that out of their system with Kilgrave.  “Uncanny, isn’t it?” the husband suggested.

Charlotte pursed her full lips. 

“He’s scruffier than the other one,” she commented. 

The Doctor wondered if people often talked about Alec as if he wasn’t there while in his presence. 

“We told you what we could on the phone last night, detective,” James said.  “I don’t know if we can tell you much more.”

“Oh, well… it’s always good to follow up in person,” the Doctor replied. 

“Hmm.  Can I get you a drink?  Tea?  Coffee?”

What would Alec have?

“Um… tea would be lovely, thank you.”

James gestured to him to take a seat and then went to fetch the tea.  The Doctor sat on a large sofa, gazing around the bright, spacious room, trying to remember how Alec would sit and deciding on a quite stiff almost-slouch that was rather uncomfortable.  Alec never looked comfortable.  ‘Charl’ was inspecting her perfectly-manicured fingernails, seemingly uninterested in conversing with him.

“Mrs Wilson, your husband indicated that the man currently renting your apartment by the harbour has visited you on several occasions,” he began, taking his notebook and pen out and flicking to a clean page.  The woman glanced at him briefly before turning her rather bored gaze towards the window.  Her fingers were tapping out a rhythm on the arm of the chair.

“Is that a question, detective?” she asked.

The Doctor blushed, cleared his throat, and tried again.

“Well… is it correct?  What your husband said?”

“Of course it is.  Why would it not be?”

“Just… corroborating, Mrs Wilson.  Corroborating is very important.”  Legal cases were obsessed with the idea of corroborating evidence, the Doctor thought, so it was probably something Alec would be interested in. 

The woman shot him an irritated half-glare. 

“The man has been three times, detective; Saturday evening, Sunday morning, and yesterday morning.”  She glanced at her watch.  “He’ll probably be here again shortly.”

“Why has he been so often?  That’s not usual behaviour for guests staying in your apartment, surely?”

“My husband has been assisting Mr Kilgrave in getting around and learning about the local area,” Charlotte explained.

“But that’s not a service you would normally provide?”

“Of course not!”  She seemed offended by the mere thought that they might provide a taxi service to the holidaymakers paying handsomely for the privilege of their harbour view. 

“So… why are you doing it for him?”

The woman floundered.  Her mouth opened and closed several times.  Irritated confusion passed over her inflexible features as best it could.  Eventually, she huffed.

“How should I know?!  You’d have to ask my husband.”

“Right.  Does he speak to you when he visits?”

“Naturally.  He’s very polite.”  Unlike you was unspoken but definitely heard.

“And?”

She sighed.

“He simply reminds me that his appearance is nothing extraordinary and that his presence is perfectly natural.”

That explained the lack of surprise at his appearance.

“And are those things true, Mrs Wilson?”

“Of course.”

“Why?  It seems to me that his presence, forcibly evicting your existing tenants from the apartment, is extremely unnatural.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine.”

The Doctor leaned forward, forearms on his knees, gaze firmly fixed on the woman.

“But it isn’t, is it?  It’s not natural or fine to evict paying customers purely on the say-so of a stranger who turns up uninvited on your doorstep.”

“No… detective, he says it is…”  She trailed off, confused. 

James re-entered the room at that moment and handed the Doctor his tea.  He took a seat on another armchair by the window, across from the one occupied by his wife, and the Doctor turned his attention to him while Charlotte remained unable to answer the question.

“Mr Wilson, is it normal to evict guests who have already paid for their holiday and even moved in to your apartment because a stranger turns up at your house and demands that he be allowed to stay there?”

“No.  What a question!” James replied, completely astonished.  “Of course that’s not normal.”

“So, why have you done that to accommodate the man who came to your house on Saturday night?”

The Doctor sipped his tea and watched the man consider how to answer the question.

“Well… he said it was fine,” James shrugged. 

“And you just… took his word for it?” the Doctor asked, shaking his head slightly.

“He said… it was fine.”

Glancing between the couple, the Doctor marvelled at the very casual way in which Kilgrave had made his wishes happen.  These people had done something completely out of character, rude, potentially very damaging to their business and lifestyle, and just accepted the simple reassurance that it was fine.  When challenged, they couldn’t understand it or provide any explanation beyond the fact that it was fine. 

It was fine because Kilgrave had told them it was.

He swallowed, pain creeping into his expression as he thought about that, finally face to face with the reality of it. 

You will enjoy this.

That was the part that had done the most damage to Zee.  That simple assertion.  Part of her mind had fought against it but been unable to prevent his words becoming real.  She’d fought so hard to at least maintain her hold on the response of her body and mind to his actions, to have that one bit of control.  She couldn’t prevent the things he did or made her do but she’d battled for that; her freedom of thought and feeling.  But Kilgrave was powerful and vindictive, and taking that away from her was a great pleasure to him; controlling how she felt, until she could no longer separate the voices in her head, her own and his, the fight splitting her mind in two. 

It felt so real now he was looking directly at it, and that was devastating.

‘Doctor?’

Crowley’s voice in his mind startled him and he covered the movement by taking another gulp of tea. 

‘Yeah?’

‘He’s here.’     

Chapter Text

‘He’s here.’

There was a growl in the demon’s voice as it appeared in the Doctor’s mind; angry and animal and filled with a desperation to rip that ‘he’ into tiny pieces, no pieces possibly tiny enough, atom from atom.

‘Thanks for the heads up,’ the Doctor responded.

‘He’s got two humans with him.  Human shields.  They’ll have instructions, probably to harm themselves if anyone harms him.  So I can’t go near him.’

Of course he did.  Back-up plans to back-up plans.

‘Crowley, try to be calm.  There’s no point just killing him anyway.  We have a plan.’

There was a knock on the door.  James and Charlotte stiffened and James clearly swallowed deeply before rising from his seat.  Charlotte looked out of the window, able to see the front of the house from her chair.

“It’s him,” she said quietly.  James nodded as he crossed the room and headed out to answer the door.  His wife watched him, keeping her eyes on the door afterwards.

It was interesting, the Doctor thought, that although Kilgrave’s instructions reassured them about their actions, they were obviously frightened of him, outside of that.  They were aware that he was dangerous.

“Who’s here?” the Doctor asked the woman, feigning ignorance.

“Him.  The man staying in our apartment,” she replied tightly, anxiety tautening her voice.  Her eyes remained fixed on the door.

“And is that… bad?  You seem anxious.”

Still staring at the door, she blinked a couple of times, brow creasing slightly.

“He’s a bit intimidating.  It’s fine, though.”  She attempted a smile, quickly and unsuccessfully. 

The Doctor watched the door too, hearts thudding fast inside his chest.  He knew exactly what he was about to see; even the specific features would be familiar to him, as he’d seen them in Crowley’s thoughts when the demon explained to him what had happened in New York.  But he had no real idea what to actually expect from the encounter; how he would react to seeing Kilgrave, how Kilgrave would react to seeing him.

The door opened and the Doctor saw James Wilson step aside, allowing his guest to enter first.

Kilgrave indeed looked exactly as the Doctor expected as he stepped casually into the room.  Brown hair neatly swept back, short stubble the identifying feature that separated the very familiar face from his own, Crowley’s, Casanova’s, Hardy’s.  The big brown eyes, widened in somewhat pleased surprise when he noticed ‘Alec’s’ presence, were identical to those of both himself and the real detective (and of course, the angel Crowley had once been), and the Doctor’s gut twisted horribly as he realised with a new clarity how terrifying those eyes – his eyes – must now be to Zee.

He was also wearing the apparently characteristic purple; a deep aubergine-hued three-piece suit over a black shirt and tie, with smart black shoes.  Every item obviously expensive and cut to perfection.  And, the Doctor was very aware, almost certainly stolen. 

The Doctor realised that although Alec would have knowledge of Kilgrave’s likeness, having been told about it by Crowley and Aziraphale, he should still express shock and curiosity; Crowley was currently in their female form and the Doctor was not present, so this characterisation of the detective had presumably never been face-to-face with a doppelgänger before.  He should also allow his fear to show, since Alec would have been apprised of Kilgrave’s power and personality, and would therefore realise his danger, finding himself in the man’s presence.  So, the Doctor allowed his own eyes to widen, mouth to drop open, and he attempted to stand up on shaking legs that wouldn’t support him, collapsing back onto the chair with a half-strangled groan of confusion and concern.

“Hello, detective,” Kilgrave remarked, a smirk playing about his lips.  “How convenient of you to be here; just exactly the man I wanted to see.”

The voice was also very similar to his own, perhaps a combination of his and Crowley’s, and hearing it pressed home the point, furthering his comprehension of how challenging Zee’s situation was, although they had, quite recently, begun to speak to one another again.  He knew that the man had played on the similarities, had made Zee watch him and listen to him…

“You…” he managed, just about remembering to keep up Alec’s accent. 

The Wilsons were staring between their two guests, one and then the other, displaying intrigue at least, if not the overwhelmed response that might usually be expected on seeing two doppelgängers together for the first time.  Kilgrave’s insistence that his appearance was nothing remarkable was holding up. 

“You don’t appear too surprised, detective.  They must have told you about the strange likeness between us, perhaps to help explain poor Zee’s reaction to you, which you must have found rather alarming.”  Kilgrave gave a short laugh.  “She never was good at distinguishing between us, even before I saw to it that she couldn’t.  Fell for me instantly, simply because I look just like her precious demon and that stupid alien.  Who, it appears, has failed to turn up once again, I’ve noticed.  What a waste of her time that one is.”

Kilgrave sighed, as if genuinely upset by the scenario, shaking his head as he glanced to the ceiling.  Then he folded his arms and stared at the Doctor, seeming vaguely amused.

The Doctor swallowed at the man’s reference to him, although it was pleasing that his presence in Broadchurch was successfully being kept a secret.  He was aware that Kilgrave had attacked Zee’s bonds with her lovers in many ways, and that one of the more minor tactics was his repeated allusion to that fact that the Doctor had been absent from New York, attempting to persuade her that he didn’t care.  It prodded directly at a sore spot though; the Doctor did feel guilty for not being there to protect her, even though he hadn’t known what was going on until afterwards, and had subsequently found that it was a fixed point when he’d desperately investigated the possibility of altering the past. 

“They did tell me,” he replied, gathering his mental strength to keep a hold on his emotions.  “Still, it’s a strange thing to be face-to-face with you.”

“Yes.  The demon is currently wearing a different form, I think.  That is the demon, isn’t it?  The woman with long, red curls?”

The Doctor realised that if he had really been Alec, that would have confused him.  They hadn’t divulged that little detail yet; that Crowley was also a doppelgänger.  As it was, he decided it was easiest to allow the assumption that Alec knew. 

“Yes.”

Kilgrave nodded, smiling, although the Doctor thought he could detect some irritation behind it, perhaps at the knowledge that Crowley at least had found a way around the problem he had created for them.

“Makes sense, given Zee’s reaction to you.”  The man shrugged.  “And it’s probably for the best.  It wouldn’t do for there to be too many of us running about such a small town; that could cause so much confusion.”

The Doctor couldn’t prevent the tiniest momentary smile curving his lips; Kilgrave had no idea.  It was gone almost instantly though, as he let his anger flare in his eyes.

“I certainly wouldn’t want anybody to mistake me for you,” he pointed out.  It probably wasn’t the best idea to display his rage openly but he was fairly sure Alec’s stubborn nature would do so.  Kilgrave raised an eyebrow.

“Likewise,” he rejoined, looking him up and down.  The Doctor felt a touch of annoyance about all the comments that had been made about Alec’s suit; it wasn’t that bad, just a little… generic. 

Throughout this interaction, the Wilsons had been watching with fascination, James sat on the arm of his wife’s chair, remaining close to her; whether for his own comfort or in an effort to protect her wasn’t clear.  Kilgrave looked at them now.

“Well, I won’t be needing you today it appears,” he told James, before turning back to ‘Alec’.  “I have a new toy to play with.”  He smiled somewhat threateningly and the Doctor swallowed, trying to keep his breathing steady.  It was ok to look scared though; Alec would be, although he’d probably also still be trying to convince himself that mind control was a stupid idea and looking for a logical way of otherwise explaining things.  The Doctor knew that Kilgrave hadn’t given him any instructions yet.

Kilgrave moved then, taking James’s vacated seat by the window. 

“But what were the three of you talking about before I got here?” he asked conversationally, once he’d settled with one long, purple-clad leg crossed over the other.  He appeared effortlessly in control, used to the fact that every whim of his thoughts would become reality, and it made the Doctor feel sick, the casualness of it all.      

“I was making enquiries about your residence in the holiday apartment owned by Mr and Mrs Wilson,” the Doctor answered.  “According to their own paperwork, a family by the name of Smith were due to occupy the apartment this week.  They even checked in on Saturday afternoon, but were evicted without notice later that evening and replaced by you, Mr Kilgrave.”

“Nothing you have described is illegal, detective, so I might enquire what possible reason there might be for such an investigation.”  He paused, making it clear to ‘Alec’ that he was not asking that question because he already knew the answer.  “My hosts simply received a better offer,” he explained.  “And it’s just Kilgrave, no Mr, although your politeness is quite adorable.”  Kilgrave smiled condescendingly and the Doctor felt anger rising up inside him again, mostly at the fact he had to sit and take that smile. 

“A ‘better offer’?”

Kilgrave glanced towards James encouragingly, and the man very efficiently stepped up with his line.

“It’s a privilege to have this man as our guest.  Perfectly fine that we should allow him to take the apartment instead.”

Perfectly fine.

“So you keep saying,” the Doctor muttered.  He noticed Kilgrave smirking at his exasperation.

“Detective Inspector Hardy, it appears that you keep asking the same question, so let me make it very clear to you – everything is in order.  There is nothing wrong with my staying in the apartment.  It is all perfectly fine.  The Wilsons here believe that to be true, and so do you.”

You will enjoy this.

Sometimes is was simply an assertion.  Not exactly an order, but enough to force you to think or feel the thing demanded.  It was the more subtle form of Kilgrave’s control but potentially the more devastating, as in Zee’s case.  The Doctor understood that he needed to pretend to believe what Kilgrave had asserted. 

“Of course it’s fine,” he agreed, hating the satisfied smile that spread over Kilgrave’s features. 

“Excellent.  I’m glad that’s all cleared up,” Kilgrave continued.  “Now, there’s really no need for you to be here, detective.  You will join me for a walk once I’ve completed my business with my hosts.”

The Doctor took a deep breath as quietly as he could, knowing that this was it now: he was about to leave in Kilgrave’s company, and would have to continue pretending to be under his control for the foreseeable future. 

‘Crowley, we’ll be leaving shortly.  He’s told me we’re going for a walk once he’s finished with the Wilsons.’

‘You ok?’

‘Yeah.  He’s told me to believe that it’s perfectly fine for him to be staying in the apartment.  I agreed with him.’

‘Good.  Watch out for things like that; sometimes you’ll need to identify those subtler uses of his power and know how to respond.’

The Doctor knew that; knew he was going to need all his powers of concentration to maintain the charade. 

‘I’ll be fine.’

He focused on the conversation going on in the room.

“Once there, you will remain in the apartment.  That interfering angel and demon have probably worked out that I’ve moved on but at least if the place seems to be occupied, it might confuse them; give them more things to look at.  It’ll take some of their attention from working out where I’ve moved to.”

‘Crowley, as we expected, Kilgrave is no longer staying at the apartment.  But he’s having the Wilsons live there so that it still appears occupied, to ensure you keep some of your focus on it.’

Seeming satisfied with his instructions, Kilgrave rose elegantly to his feet.

“Detective, come with me,” he ordered, already heading for the door.  The Doctor stood automatically, willing his body to do as it was told and not give in to the nerves and fear he was feeling.  He followed Kilgrave through to the hallway and out of the house.

Once outside, he saw the two humans Crowley had mentioned: Kilgrave’s ‘protection’.  He continued to follow but cast a keen eye over the two; a man and a woman.  Each was carrying a small pocket knife in their right hand. 

Nothing prevented him asking questions.

“Who are these people?  Why do they have knives?  Walking about carrying a knife like that is a matter for the police.”

Kilgrave paused, turning to smile at him.

“My bodyguards, detective.  There is a highly dangerous demon on the loose in this town, a creature of hell who has previously made an attempt on my life.  As a sensible man, I ought to protect myself.”  Beginning to walk again, and with ‘Alec’ following alongside him, Kilgrave continued.  “Did he tell you what he did to me the last time we met?  Or did that little detail escape him when telling you all about the evil man who tried to steal his girlfriend?”  He raised an eyebrow questioningly in ‘Alec’s’ direction.

“He told me he spared your life.  And has regretted it every second since.”  The Doctor allowed some of his anger to seep through into his tone, perhaps not quite in character as Alec, but Kilgrave didn’t know Alec, and the small release of rage felt good.

“One side of the coin.  Your new friend is incredibly dangerous, detective.  He tortured me, before ‘sparing my life’ as he puts it.  And as you say, he’s regretted that ever since.”  He looked thoughtful.  “That sounds awfully like a threat against my life, which is certainly a matter for the police.  What do you think he would want to do if he was here right now?”

“I know he’d want to kill you,” the Doctor replied.  Crowley was here, and the Time Lord could feel the pure intensity of the demon’s rage through their bond so there was no need for speculation. 

“Precisely,” Kilgrave agreed.  “Hence, my protection.”  He smiled to himself and continued walking.  It was a few second before he resumed speaking.  “I imagine you came here this morning just like you came to the apartment last night; knowing you might meet me but so sure of yourself and your duty.  I’ve spoken to people about you, Alec Hardy; people who work with you, people who know you.  Apparently, you have a very strong sense of duty, to the detriment of your personal relationships and own interests.  Didn’t bring your sidekick with you today, I’ve noticed.  That for her protection?  Dear old Ellie.  The child-murderer’s wife.”  Kilgrave appeared to be enjoying himself immensely.  “My goodness, Broadchurch struck lucky with its detectives didn’t it?!  The worst cop in Britain and the woman who didn’t notice her own husband was the murderer.” 

The Doctor found himself experiencing a very intense desire to remove the smirk from Kilgrave’s face by any means possible.  Various ideas floated through his mind, each more hideous and horrific than the last.  He could understand why Crowley was worried his anger might distract him.

“You’ll accompany me while I carry out a couple more errands, detective.  You will not speak to anybody else or otherwise communicate with them in any way.” 

The Doctor scowled at the man, whose air of casual control, arrogant in a way that apparently hadn’t been dimmed by his previous experience with Crowley, was irritating beyond measure.  Being quiet was not going to come naturally to the Time Lord.

“You’re a hostage, by the way,” Kilgrave added, grinning.  “In case that wasn’t obvious.” 

*

Aziraphale made some further adjustments to the wards on the cottage, allowing their new guest to enter.  He was pleased with Beth so far; she’d been polite and gentle in her questioning on the walk up to the cottage but was evidently discovering the information she needed to understand Zee’s situation. 

Their trip to the seaside had brought with it many surprises but this was one of the more positive ones.  Recent events had demonstrated how much healing Zee still required and this was a form of help they hadn’t yet sought.  Malcolm had worked wonders on rebuilding her fractured mind and allowing her to piece the basics back together; getting her out of the bookshop and back into the world.  But now her thoughts had more order, Zee would be better able to engage with this very important aspect of her recovery, and the angel knew how important that was.

After discussing Ellie’s suggestion, Aziraphale and Crowley had waited for Zee to wake so they could allow her to make the final decision on allowing Beth to visit.  Initially unsure, their partner had taken some time to consider the idea, and had eventually consented to at least meeting the woman, particularly pleased that she would also have the opportunity to meet Ellie properly and thank her for helping her yesterday.

Alec had returned to his office in the Tardis so that he would be out of the way, allowing Zee to venture downstairs and ensuring that Beth wouldn’t encounter him; they might be admitting her into the cottage but they were going to maintain as much secrecy as possible regarding the wider situation. 

It was wonderful that so soon after her terrifying experience on the pier, Zee felt able to be around other people, even those who would be closely associated with that event in her mind.  With angelic assistance, she’d been kept calm and allowed to process her thoughts during an extended period of sleep, and it seemed she’d not been set back too much in her recovery despite the circumstances.  Given their experience post-New York, that seemed a miracle in itself, but she was strong and Aziraphale found himself smiling, proud of her and less surprised than he might have been. 

On entering the cottage now, the angel steered his guests directly into the living room where they found Zee curled up on the armchair by the window with one hand wrapped around a mug of tea (hers… Aziraphale hadn’t left her out when creating the personalised set yesterday, and the mug carried her name).  She was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt with an apple green cardigan over the top, her curls swept back into a ponytail as they almost always were these days.  Her need for reassurance and comfort was evident in the fact that she was sat on Jack’s lap, his hand gently stroking her back, and her free hand was anxiously playing with her Tardis key where it lay half-hidden beneath the cardigan. 

Mark was sat on the sofa.  Unlike Alec, he’d accepted the offer of a bed for the night in the cottage’s second bedroom (barely questioning the idea of remaining at the cottage rather than going home, presumably because it tallied with his instructions to get close to Alec, and also not questioning Aziraphale taking possession of his phone to protect them from any unfortunate consequences should Kilgrave call, although that probably had more to do with the angel’s magic persuading him to comply easily), and had clearly made his way downstairs after Aziraphale and Crowley had left.  A crumb-bedecked plate on his lap indicated that the paramedic had been included in the breakfast Jack had prepared, and all the room’s inhabitants were smiling as the newcomers entered, a friendly conversation having presumably been interrupted. 

“Good morning,” the angel said, mostly aiming his greeting in Mark’s direction since he hadn’t seen him yet today.  Ellie and Beth had followed him into the room and he glanced between everyone.  “I’m not entirely sure which of you know one another,” he stated, “so I’ll just introduce you all.”  He indicated the chair by the window.  “This is our friend Jack and our partner Zee.  Mark, the paramedic who came to our assistance on the pier yesterday.”  He turned to the women beside him.  “DS Ellie Miller who was also there and provided the most immediate help to dear Zee.  And Beth, Ellie’s friend.”  Aziraphale chose his words carefully when introducing Beth to keep the mood as light as possible. 

A chorus of ‘hellos’ followed and the angel invited Ellie and Beth to sit, the pair taking the remaining positions on the sofa.  With typical politeness, he offered them refreshment, but Jack must have noted the way his eyes continually found their way to Zee.

“I’ll make the drinks,” he volunteered, Zee slipping from his lap and moving closer to Aziraphale.  Thanking Jack with a nod, the angel resumed his usual chair, his partner settling on his lap now.  She’d passed Jack her mug and now both hands were free, both were toying with the Tardis key.  Noting her anxiety, Aziraphale stroked her arm, transmitting a gentle warmth through the touch, the reassuring contact of angelic love.  It must have worked, since it was Zee who spoke next.

“Thank you, Ellie.  You were so kind yesterday.”  She smiled at the woman although her eyes kept sliding over to Beth with a somewhat nervous curiosity. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellie replied, also smiling, “there’s really no need to thank me.  Just doing my job.”

“All the same, thank you.  And, um…”  Zee hesitated, her breath catching anxiously.  “Your colleague… I’m so sorry.  He was only trying to help.  Please make sure he knows that it really wasn’t personal and I apologise for… reacting like I did.” 

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Zee’s arm, his heart aching terribly for her.  Of course, she’d apologise for being frightened of Alec. 

“Oh, he understands,” Ellie said, appearing genuinely surprised and struck by Zee’s words.  She gave Aziraphale a little smile, as if acknowledging that she could understand now, why four such unusual and apparently powerful beings should have such love for this human woman.  “And he would certainly protest at your apology.  It’s really not your fault, Zee.”

“Hmm.” 

Aziraphale had become accustomed to Zee’s persistent feeling of guilt, the responsibility she felt she bore for landing them all in this situation.  It was not her fault.  A series of poor decisions had led them here, some of which were Zee’s, but it was not her fault.  She was stubbornly attached to her guilt though.  The angel squeezed her shoulder.

“I’ve not seen the detective inspector this morning,” Mark pointed out then.  “He was here last night.  Is he still here now?”

Aziraphale was suddenly alert, eyes sharply focused on the man.  His interest in Alec as soon as he was mentioned demonstrated the ongoing power of Kilgrave’s order, or at least it did in part; it had become clear that Mark’s keenness to speak with the detective was not entirely manufactured by his obedience to Kilgrave’s orders.  Crowley had seen more than just the instructions inside Mark’s mind, and it seemed that their short interaction on the pier had already been enough to inspire the paramedic’s interest; his attraction to Alec was genuine.

“He’s working currently,” the angel answered, keeping the answer quite vague, “but if you stay, I’m sure you’ll be able to speak with him later.”

Mark smiled.

“Oh good.  I feel like we’re really getting along.”

“Of course.”

Ellie was looking between the angel and the paramedic with curiosity.  Aziraphale and Crowley had caught her up on the night’s events while walking to Beth’s house so while not a complete mystery to her, she was intrigued by the interaction.

Meanwhile Zee and Beth had been observing each other carefully and Aziraphale though it might be best to allow them the opportunity to converse more privately. 

“Zee, dearest, how would you like to chat with Beth?  Alone, or with somebody else present?  It’s entirely up to you, my love.”

Zee’s gaze settled more openly on Beth as she assessed her feelings.  She still took her time with such things and Aziraphale knew that was because she wanted to be sure that her decision was based on her own feelings and not influenced by what anybody else might want.  She’d described the experience of hearing different voices competing for supremacy in her mind and feeling compelled towards choices that she knew were not her own.  He was fairly sure she still heard Kilgrave’s voice sometimes, and given her experience yesterday she’d likely be feeling particularly cautious.

Eventually, she turned her eyes towards Ellie.

“Perhaps you could stay,” Zee suggested. 

The detective appeared slightly taken aback but Aziraphale noticed that Beth seemed pleased with Zee’s choice.

“Of course I can, sweetheart,” Ellie agreed.

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Aziraphale stated, stroking Zee’s arm.  She took a deep breath before nodding, lifting one hand from the key around her neck and squeezing her angel’s hand.

Jack returned with the fresh round of drinks then, just as Zee was standing to allow Aziraphale to move.  Mark had also got up ready to leave. 

“Ah, Jack,” Aziraphale said, “we’ll take our drinks in the dining room.  Leave these lovely ladies to it.”

Jack handed Zee, Ellie, and Beth their mugs and placed a plate of biscuits on the coffee table.  The angel glanced at the plate a little longingly, before happily realising they could fetch some more from the kitchen to take through to the other room.  “If you need anything, we’re just across the hall,” he added as they left.

*

The Doctor was increasingly glad that Crowley was remaining close by.  Although their reflected emotions made an already tense situation doubly so, the demon made continued efforts to help him remain calm which proved invaluable since Kilgrave was so incomparably infuriating. 

They’d returned to the harbour, followed by the two ‘bodyguards’, Kilgrave acquiring a cup of tea from one of the huts at the entrance to the pier, neither paying for it nor offering ‘Alec’ one.  It appeared the proprietor of the small business was already in Kilgrave’s thrall, as the man quizzed her, demanding updates on her observations since they’d last spoken.  She was just one of his spies, keeping an eye on the area of the harbour visible from her vantage point, and watching out specifically for the movements of Zee and her friends.  He reiterated her instructions before leaving.

Kilgrave noticed how closely he was being observed by his new companion.

“Is it what you expected?” he asked.  “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?  The ease.”

“I’m not sure beautiful is the word I’d choose.”

Kilgrave cocked his head slightly.

“Oh, come ooonnn.  It’s a thing of beauty!  The way my words slide inside your minds and just nudge so gently…”

“It’s horrific,” the Doctor stated, with what he considered Alec’s typical dryness. 

“I told you it was perfectly fine for me to have taken the Wilsons’ apartment and all your doubts and concerns about it just disintegrated, leaving you perfectly content with the idea.  That’s magical.”        

Since that wasn’t true, the Doctor wasn’t really able to voice an opinion on the experience, although magical certainly wasn’t his preferred descriptor.  He also believed that Kilgrave’s description was inaccurate, it being his understanding that those under the man’s control were still aware of their own thoughts.  That was a particularly devastating feature of this specific aspect of his power.

“Your control doesn’t erase our own thoughts though.  It merely dominates them,” he countered.  Although potentially dangerous territory since he didn’t have firsthand experience of what it actually felt like, the Doctor relied on the fact that Kilgrave had also never experienced his own control. 

The man smirked.

“And how does that feel?  Knowing it is wrong but feeling so certain that it is right?”

The Doctor met Kilgrave’s eyes briefly, frowning.  Then he averted his gaze without answering the question.

“Oh!  You don’t like it?”  There was a condescending, sing-song tone of mocking concern to Kilgrave’s voice.  “Just think about it though, detective inspector… you’re always so stressed, so worried about everyone, scared that if you miss one detail you might be responsible for the bad guy walking free.  I could take all that away.  I could tell you not to care, and you just… wouldn’t.  Easy as that!  No more stress or worry.  Que sera, sera.  Imagine the freedom…”

Except that’s not how it works.  

“I’d still care,” he replied grimly.  “I wouldn’t be able to act on it, but deep down, I’d know it was my responsibility.”

Kilgrave shrugged.

“Suit yourself.  I’m not going to make you try it.  Just be good and do as you’re told, and we’ll be just fine.”

They met with a couple more of Kilgrave’s spies, the man seeming quite happy to allow ‘Alec’ to see what he was doing.  The Doctor mostly stayed quiet, knowing he wasn’t allowed to communicate with anyone other than Kilgrave, having no desire to communicate unnecessarily with him, and observing intently, as he knew Alec would do. 

He noticed that the man frequently smoothed a hand down the front of his suit, specifically in the position where the inside pocket of his jacket would be.  It had the appearance of a nervous tic, but watching closely, the Doctor began to speculate that the pendant might be in that pocket.  It was the only object he could imagine Kilgrave feeling so anxious about, and it made sense that he’d keep it with him.  He’d used it differently before, as bait, but in the current scenario he’d probably want to keep it close.

After glancing at the obviously expensive and almost certainly not paid for watch on his wrist, Kilgrave smiled.  Looking around, he selected a nearby man and approached him confidently, the Doctor and the two ‘bodyguards’ trailing along behind. 

The man was tall, well-built, slightly greying hair tied in a rough bun at the back of his head, and he was cleaning a wrench with a cloth, having just finished performing some minor maintenance to the motorbike next to him.  He was wearing the typical biker’s uniform of leathers from the waist down, a faded t-shirt too tight over his chest remembering Metallica’s 2004 world tour when this now ruggedly handsome middle-aged man would have been a fresh-faced twenty-something.  His jacket was tossed over the seat of the bike beneath his helmet. 

“Good afternoon,” Kilgrave greeted him.  The man turned and eyed him cautiously. 

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“No,” Kilgrave admitted casually.  “But you are exactly the kind of person I’ve been looking for and you’re going to perform a very important task for me.”

The man nodded and Kilgrave smiled, glancing very briefly at ‘Alec’; he was showing off a bit.

“I am expecting a very important delivery at midday.  You will go to the last bench on the right-hand side of the pier, just before it opens into the round area at the end.”  Kilgrave took his phone from his pocket and tapped it a few times before turning it around so the man could look at the screen.  “When this woman arrives, you will bring her to Hawthorn Cottage, just up on the east cliff beyond the harbour.  If you need to use force to do so, then be my guest.  Big strong arms like you’ve got, shouldn’t be a problem.”  He slid his phone back into his pocket.  “If anybody tries to interfere with you completing this task, then you will begin hitting yourself as hard as you can in the face with that wrench.  If the woman does not show up then you will remain on the bench until I instruct otherwise.”  Cocking his head, he raised his eyebrows.  “Carry on then, until it’s time.”

The man turned back to his motorbike, while Kilgrave began walking towards the east cliff. 

‘Hawthorn Cottage, east cliff.  The biker is the rendezvous for Zee, but you can’t approach him,’ the Doctor told Crowley quickly, keeping his focus on Kilgrave, aghast at the audacity, although he’d known what to expect. 

“You really think they’ll give her to you?” he asked incredulously.  Kilgrave smirked.

“I prepare for every eventuality,” he confirmed. 

Chapter Text

Hawthorn Cottage, it appeared, was not actually their destination.  Kilgrave and his little band of followers walked right past it, the man nodding to a couple sat on a bench in the front garden as they passed.  A smirk in the Doctor’s direction told him that the couple had their instructions already. 

They continued up a small track to another cottage further up the cliff where Kilgrave let himself in.  The two ‘bodyguards’ remained outside, one either side of the door, while the Doctor followed Kilgrave into the cottage. 

‘The people living at Hawthorn Cottage must have instructions of some kind so be cautious.  Can you keep an eye on them while remaining close enough to communicate?’

‘I think so.’

“Bring me tea, Mrs Jarvis,” Kilgrave called, presumably to his enthralled host, the owner of the cottage, as he moved through to the living room, where he immediately made himself at home, sprawling comfortably on the sofa.  The Doctor stood awkwardly just within the doorway, bristling beneath the amused smile of his apparent captor.  “Ah, detective, you should have some too.  Mrs Jarvis, make that tea for two!”  He gestured to ‘Alec’ to move further into the room.

Kilgrave was watching him with narrowed eyes, clearly wondering how far to press his control and what might be his best tactic with his hostage.  There was a sharp glint in the man’s eye that spoke of the temptation he felt to have some fun.  The power must be dizzying, the Doctor thought; the knowledge that you could instruct the person in front of you to do anything and they’d be bound to comply.  As Kilgrave leaned back comfortably against the sofa cushions, one leg crossed casually over the other, he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and the Doctor swallowed.  He’d only been instructed what to think and what not to do so far.  That thoughtful lip bite felt dangerous.

Then Kilgrave grinned. 

“You’re speculating, aren’t you?  What’s he going to make me do?  It’s quite fun actually, when you know.  Because you still can’t do anything about it…”  He rocked the foot on the end of his crossed leg, completely relaxed.  “Tell me, Alec Hardy.  How does that make you feel?”

The Doctor knew about ‘tell me’.  It was one of Kilgrave’s favourite phrases, designed to compel a response out of a reluctant interrogatee.  And it was potentially tricky in his situation, since he’d have to improvise a convincingly candid answer.

“Scared.”

Kilgrave nodded slowly.

“I’d have liked a little more but there’s something almost poetic in the brevity.”  He considered for a second longer.  “Come a little closer, Alec.”  The Doctor took a couple of steps towards Kilgrave, who pointed to a spot on the floor right next to him.  “Kneel here.” 

The need to disobey rose up strongly in the Doctor, whose eyes flashed furiously.  He would not, could not let this man see him so subservient.  He was a Time Lord! 

‘Doctor, I can feel your anger… stay in character.’

The reminder from Crowley was timely, and the Doctor knelt, teeth gritted as he forced himself to comply.  Kilgrave smirked.

“You’ve got fight in you.  Like her.  She always liked to put up a bit of a fight.”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Oh, you barely know the woman!” Kilgrave interrupted, snarling.  “The sight of you terrified her so much you had to call an ambulance and that’s it.  That’s the sum total of your firsthand knowledge of her.”

The Doctor glared at Kilgrave, biting down hard on his tongue to prevent himself speaking. 

“I spent time with her, had conversations with her, looked into her eyes and came to know her.”  Kilgrave leaned down, bringing his face close to the Doctor’s as he continued.  “I’ve seen what you’ve seen in those beautiful brown eyes, but I’ve also seen so much more.  I’ve seen desire and pleasure and delight in those eyes.  You’ll never see those things.”  He grinned horrifyingly before leaning closer and whispering into the Doctor’s ear.  “And I bet you’d like to, wouldn’t you?  Sad, lonely Alec Hardy.  I bet you’d like to have her.”  Shrugging, he sat back comfortably on the sofa again.  “Apparently we all do.  It’s a doppelgänger thing.”

The Doctor could barely breathe he was so angry.  Furious with this animal who could speak about Zee in this way, somehow more angry because he had seen those things, those things and more, because he’d seen love in those eyes.  He’d seen love, and this bastard would never see that, wouldn’t know how to value it if he did, and had stolen it from him. 

And fuck, the Doctor loved her.  Loved her so much.  And that wasn’t a ‘doppelgänger thing’, that was real and true and he’d never told her because there was always something stopping him; his own stupidity or his worries about Jack or his worries about her, and now him…  This man had taken away his ability to tell her.

‘Doctor, calm down!’ Crowley’s panicked voice sounded in his head.

He looked up at Kilgrave with pure hatred in his eyes, reflecting the man’s own gaze back at him with the addition of a powerful venom. 

Kilgrave opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor was saved from whatever question or vengeful instruction he might have otherwise been subject to by the entrance of Mrs Jarvis with the tea.  Both identical heads whipped around to observe the newcomer. 

“Ooh…” she exclaimed, almost dropping the tea tray.  “My, my… two of you…”

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Mrs Jarvis.  You will be calm.”

Kilgrave’s voice was like ice and the Doctor could feel it sliding down his spine despite it not being directed at him.  The cold anger in it was for him, he knew.      

The woman nodded and Kilgrave smiled at her, the ice still there in the cool curve of his lips.

“Place the tray down on the table beside you and leave.”

She obeyed. 

*

After the three women had been left alone, they’d rearranged themselves so Beth was sat in the seat by the window while Zee was on the sofa next to Ellie.  She’d slipped her hand into Ellie’s as she’d begun telling her story, Beth having requested to hear it in her own words, in as much or as little detail as she felt comfortable.

There had been discussion beforehand about how much Zee should tell and the decision had ultimately been that she should keep her narrative vague, specifically avoiding the subject of mind control.  She therefore described how she’d met a man and become involved with him, later discovering things about him that she didn’t like, learning that he was cruel and controlling, and had tried to break things off with him.  He hadn’t taken that well and had turned that cruelty and control on her, keeping her captive for several days, his treatment of her becoming increasingly brutal as her desire to leave intensified.  She mentioned psychological abuse alongside the physical assaults that were the principal reason for Beth’s presence.

“He raped me,” Zee said, voice completely devoid of emotion and looking Beth straight in the eye.  She’d only ever said it out loud so explicitly once before, when she’d told Kilgrave that that was what he’d done.  It had been a moment of such power, looking him in the eye and forcing him to see the truth of the situation.  Short-lived power.  He’d instantly stripped away any lingering idea of her control over him.  Her breath caught in her throat now as she remembered his response. 

There was a hollow feeling in her stomach, her experiences seeming quite generic and losing some of their sharpness in being told this way.  She couldn’t describe to Beth the utter helplessness she’d felt when Kilgrave was inside her head and she could feel the way his will dominated hers.  She couldn’t convey what it felt like when your consciousness split in two, fighting against itself, your own thoughts slipping away, his voice like treacle coating every surface, thick and sticky and making it impossible to hold onto anything.  Drowning inside your own mind.

You won’t resist.  You won’t try to stop me.  You, my darling, are going to have a wonderful time.  You are going to enjoy it so very, very much.

How could she possibly communicate what it was like when those weren’t just empty words whispered into her ear but actual instructions that her own mind was obliged to obey?  Without the mind control, she couldn’t possibly make Beth understand how literally he took away her voice, why she never lifted a finger in her own defence, and how horrifying it was to actively participate in acts she did not consent to.

She felt Ellie’s free hand covering their clasped ones. 

“Thank you, Zee,” Beth said, her voice gentle and kind.  A tear slid down Zee’s cheek, frustration more than anything.

“You’re doing so well,” Ellie added. 

Ellie knew.  Aziraphale had explained that the detectives knew everything.  Zee turned to meet her gaze and the woman nodded, her eyes communicating her understanding, and it made Zee feel better to know that at least one of these people actually knew the truth.  The excruciating shame she’d experienced previously whenever she’d thought that a stranger might know what had happened to her was only a dull ache now; she felt safe with this woman who had been so very kind, coming to her aid without hesitation when she’d been choking on her own terror on the pier.

“Normally, my role is to support you through a police investigation and potential trial, liaising with the system and helping you navigate it.  Your circumstances are a little different, but I can still help, both immediately while things are quite intense and uncertain, and with suggestions for the longer term.”  Beth pulled some leaflets and printed information from her bag and placed them on the coffee table.  “This is information about various support groups and services, including in London.  You are not alone, Zee.  Sometimes it can help to talk to other people who have been through similar experiences.”

Zee’s eyes had been lingering on the pieces of paper but they snapped back to Beth’s face then, wide, shocked by the idea that she should talk about these things with other people. 

“There’s a really good group.”  Beth shuffled through the papers and pulled one out.  “It’s specifically for survivors of domestic abuse, people whose partners assaulted them.  The feelings can be particularly hard to disentangle in those scenarios, where there was love and trust and those things were broken.”

Eyes narrowing, Zee recalled the tangle of feelings she’d struggled with in New York.  The pull of her love because he looked just like them, and the instinctive trust that created, although she’d known neither feeling was really for him.  Even before she’d discovered his power, that had already caused her difficulty in really understanding her emotions and her response to him.   Then later, things had only become worse, as those feelings collided with her horror as she comprehended his power and the way he used it.  Her mind had been a turmoil of confusion even before he’d actively torn it apart. 

“Thank you,” she responded quietly.  “I don’t… it’s very private… I’m not sure I’d want to talk about it with people.”

“That’s ok,” Beth nodded.  “The information is there if you want it.  And there are some recommendations for counsellors in London if you prefer some one-to-one instead.”

“Thank you.”

Beth reached for her cup of tea and took a sip.

“I understand you had a panic attack yesterday.  How are you feeling?”

Zee glanced at Ellie who nodded encouragingly.

“I’ve slept a lot.  I’m feeling much better.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Beth asked.  “Panic attacks?”

She shook her head.

“At first, yeah.  But it’s been a lot better.  That was the first time in a couple of weeks.  And they’ve… um… they’ve not been so bad as that for ages.”

Zee shifted uncomfortably, turning to Ellie again.  She grimaced but Ellie smiled and mouthed ‘it’s ok’, squeezing her hand. 

“We’ve told Beth what happened yesterday, Zee,” Ellie reassured her.  “You don’t need to talk about it unless you want to.”

Nodding slowly, Zee closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

“He’s back,” she said, voice quiet but steady.  “He’s here and I’m terrified that he’ll get back into my head again.”

*

Kilgrave was leaning in and staring at his face.  A fingertip had traced along his jawline, tucking under his chin and lifting his head so that the Doctor had little choice but to look back at him.  He’d tried averting his gaze and focusing on the dreadful patterned wallpaper on the wall behind him, but to no avail.

“Look at me.  I want to look into our eyes.”

He’d had to look and that had made him think about the way this man had forced Zee to do the same, holding her gaze while he… well…

“It’s very strange, staring into my own eyes like this.  More real than a mirror.”  Kilgrave smiled a very dark smile, filled with pleasure that twisted horribly in the Doctor’s chest, a rusty blade tearing at the space between his hearts.  “Did they tell you?  Do they know I had her maintain eye contact with me while we made love?  So delightfully intimate…”

Kilgrave’s hand fell back onto the sofa and the Doctor instinctively pulled back, although he kept his eyes obediently fixed on those identical ones that were still staring back at him. 

“I was watching when you met her on the pier.  I saw the way you staggered back when she looked at you.  What did you see?  What was in her eyes that made you respond so strongly?”  He waited a second but the Doctor was not going to answer without being forced to.  “Tell me.”

“She was utterly petrified.  Frozen with fear so completely that she couldn’t even breathe.”  It took all his willpower, but he kept his voice emotionless as he provided the compelled response.

“And I suppose she does that with anyone who looks like me,” Kilgrave mused, smiling.  “Hence the demon being in that ridiculous alternate form.  And hence… no Doctor.” 

The Doctor bit back a faint smile at that assumption.  He looked forward to making this man wish there really had been no Doctor present. 

There was a flaw in Kilgrave’s thinking though…

“But why?  Why would you do that?  She’ll be just as frightened of you.”

The man’s laugh in response to the question was one of the most horrifying sounds the Doctor had ever heard.

“Because I can make her look at me anyway,” he shrugged.  He settled back against the cushions properly again, very relaxed, and continued in a conversational tone.  “You know, the only difference between me and them is the way they let their consciences trap them?  The demon can control minds too, but limits himself with his strange ideas about the importance of free will.  He could fix the ‘problem’ if he wanted… he chooses not to.”    

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” the Doctor muttered. 

He was very aware of the limitations both he and Crowley had placed on themselves.  Crowley could certainly have used his own power to mitigate or reverse some of the effects of Kilgrave on Zee’s mind, even erasing the trip to New York from her memory altogether, but he absolutely refused to enter her head, let alone actively manipulate her thoughts.  Partly through the ‘limitations’ of conscience Kilgrave referred to but also because the demon was so scarred by the things he’d seen in Zee’s mind the last time he’d been in there.  He’d not shared the details, even with the Doctor, keeping them locked away in a deep part of his mind where their bond couldn’t accidentally reach, but the Doctor knew he’d observed Zee’s memories and witnessed firsthand the things that Kilgrave had done to the woman he loved. 

And as for him… Kilgrave didn’t even know about the power Time Lords could exert over lesser (in this case, human) minds.  But he’d spent long hours alone in the Tardis, debating with himself on the morality of wiping Zee’s memory.  They all knew he could do so.  They’d seen him plant a memory and take it away when circumstance had necessitated such a thing.  Not one of the others had asked about it though.  And he had never mentioned it either.  He remembered a conversation with Crowley from many months before, where he’d suggested erasing himself from Zee’s mind so that she could continue living her life with the angel and demon more quietly and less dangerously than would be possible with him around.  He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d offered.  And Crowley had rejected the idea out of hand, stating that he’d vowed never to use his own power that way.  She deserves better than that, he’d said.  And she still did.  So, neither of them had used their powers.  And neither of them would, no matter how hard things were.  Unless, perhaps, Zee asked.    

“Fetch me my tea, detective,” Kilgrave ordered suddenly, jolting the Doctor out of his thoughts.  He glared at the man who smiled serenely back at him, before beginning to stand.  “Oh no, remain on your knees.”

Biting back a growl, the Doctor shuffled across to the table, his compliance not stretching to allowing Kilgrave the pleasure of seeing him crawl.  He took one cup from the tray and shuffled back, offering it to the man, wanting desperately to allow the cup to tip or to drop it completely, letting the liquid splash over Kilgrave’s expensive suit trousers, but refraining, knowing it was best not to provoke.  He understood what this man was capable of. 

Kilgrave took the drink and sipped contentedly. 

“Hmm.  Nothing better than a lovely cup of tea.  And back in good old England now, so I can get a decent one.”

Settling back onto his heels, the Doctor scowled at him.

*

“Do you think talking with Beth will help her?” Jack asked, cradling his mug of coffee between his hands and addressing Aziraphale.  They were sat around one end of a heavy dining table, Jack at the end, with Aziraphale on the side nearest the door and Mark opposite.  This was the more formal dining room, with antique furniture in dark wood, the table finished with a crocheted runner down the centre, more for show really, barely used since there was also a small table in the kitchen.  Heavy curtains shrouded the window that would have afforded them a view of the sea, keeping them safe from the prying eyes of Kilgrave’s spies. 

There was tension in those hands, the angel noticed; Jack was trying to distract himself and keep busy, but was clearly incredibly worried about the Doctor.

“I hope so.  I understand Beth will have practical advice but also, just for Zee to open up a bit with someone on the outside might be a good thing.”

“Zee seemed brighter today,” Mark observed.  “Obviously, I didn’t see her at her best yesterday, but I’m pleased she’s doing better.  She appears to have a very good support network around her.”

Aziraphale smiled at the man, whose words sounded genuine and were (to the best of the angel’s understanding), not the result of any instruction.  He inclined his head appreciatively.

“We try our best.”

“I don’t know exactly what happened to her, but… well, I can get a sense.  And I’m sorry.  Nobody should ever have to go through something like that.”

Tears pricked at Aziraphale’s eyes.  The sympathy was always tricky to handle, often serving only to remind them of the reason they were here, the something like that, as Mark put it.  Jack reached across and took his hand, meanwhile turning his head to smile at Mark.

“Thank you,” he replied on the angel’s behalf.

After a few moments of silence, interrupted only by the sounds of tea and coffee being drunk, it was Mark who spoke again.

“Where is DI Hardy this morning?”

Despite himself, Aziraphale found a smile on his lips.  While acting as an irritatingly persistent reminder of Kilgrave’s power, Mark’s focus on Alec was also proving helpful, preventing him questioning his continued presence at the cottage and making keeping him here a remarkably easy task.  It was also somewhat alarming though, how thoroughly Kilgrave had altered this man’s motivations, driving him to follow this one aim above all others.

“He’s very busy,” the angel reassured their guest.  “But I’m sure he’ll be available later, so that you can resume your conversation.”

Mark nodded.

“Good.  I would like to take any opportunity I can to get closer to him.” 

Aziraphale shuddered, recognising the words Crowley had used to describe the man’s most recent instructions, and understanding that they were Kilgrave’s.  Although, they were also not a lie…  There was the underlying genuine interest too.  They were just inclining in the same direction and hard to pick apart.

The situation was complicated by Kilgrave’s interference, but given the loneliness and stifled yearning for affection he had observed in Alec, the angel wondered if he should encourage Mark’s interest.  Alec had been very keen to help Mark and worried about his being under Kilgrave’s control.  How much of that was simply his professional drive to protect those he felt responsibility towards, and how much was a more specific, personal feeling?

It was rather tricky having this combination of guests in the cottage though.  They couldn’t risk Zee seeing Alec but it was also not advisable in the current circumstances to allow Mark to learn too much about their group, so they were keeping him away from the Tardis.  There would need to be some careful manoeuvring if they were to allow Mark to spend time with Alec (whether for practical or personal reasons…), while protecting Zee.  Aziraphale sighed, offering Mark a friendly smile.

“Later, as I said.  If you could just be a little patient.”

There was an eager nod from Mark.  Glancing at Jack, Aziraphale noticed that he was watching the man closely again, curiously observing his enthusiasm.  Realising the angel was looking his way, Jack caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow, communicating his intrigued fascination.  Aziraphale cocked his head a little, acknowledging that he too was watching this one carefully. 

While drinking some more of his tea, Aziraphale looked between the others 

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to introduce the two of you properly,” he said, curious as to what had occurred in his absence. 

“Oh,” Jack replied, “we managed just fine.  Mark came downstairs just as we were settling to our breakfast, so I invited him to sit with Zee while I got him something.  They seemed quite happy; Zee was comfortable with him, and he was pleased to see her again.”

“One thing about my job,” Mark contributed, “is that you don’t get to follow things through.  So often, you never hear how a patient did, if they were ok afterwards.  It’s always nice to catch up with someone you’ve helped.”

There was a gentle knock on the door then and they all turned to see Ellie stood in the doorway.

“How is Zee?” Aziraphale enquired immediately, anxiety for his partner clearly audible in his voice.  He felt Jack’s grip on his hand tighten supportively.

“She’s fine, Aziraphale.”  Ellie smiled, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind her.  “You should be so proud of that girl.  Goodness, after everything she’s been through…”  She shook her head.  “I’m glad I suggested her meeting with Beth.  It was a bit tentative initially, but now she’s begun to open up, she seems to be finding it a relief to talk.  Especially… I think taking away all the overwhelming stuff about mind control, getting to focus specifically on just this one aspect of what happened, is allowing her a different perspective, perhaps healing a different wound.”  Pausing, Ellie glanced at her watch.  “I left them to it.  Zee was quite comfortable with Beth, and… well, I noticed the time.”

Jack checked his own wrist and fixed an anxious gaze on Aziraphale who returned it with concern in his own eyes too.  It would soon be midday. 

“Will you be ok here?” the angel asked his friend.

“We’ll be fine,” Jack replied determinedly. 

Aziraphale checked his phone and read a couple of messages.

“Right,” he announced, smoothing down his waistcoat as he stood.  “Crowley is up on the east cliff, keeping an eye on the Doctor.  I will accompany Ellie back to the police station.  We cannot interfere but we can observe.” 

“The Doc…?” Jack asked, voice tight with worry.

“As well as can be expected.  No physical harm, although the man is stretching his patience and his temper,” Aziraphale explained, careful not to say the name in case Mark recognised it.  His reassurance allowed the sharpest of the anxiety to leave Jack’s eyes although he remained deeply concerned.  “He’s a clever boy, Jack.  He’ll be ok.”  He squeezed Jack’s shoulder. 

Turning to Mark, the angel attempted a smile.

“Just wait patiently.  This is the best place for you to be if you want to see Alec.”

That seemed to satisfy the man, and Aziraphale moved closer to the door, indicating that Ellie should pass through first.  “We’ll keep you up to date as and when we can Jack,” he said as he prepared to follow.  “Keep Zee and Alec apart, and continue to offer as much hospitality as you can to our guests.  Let us know if anything seems wrong.”  He lowered his voice.  “And if there is any suggestion of danger, get Zee safely into the Tardis, keeping her away from Alec of course.”  Jack nodded, and Aziraphale left. 

Knocking softly on the living room door, he popped his head around to let Zee know he was going out, and to reassure her that Jack was there if she needed anything.  She’d been deep in conversation with Beth, but jumped up from the sofa as soon as her angel appeared and ran over to hug him.  He enclosed her tightly in his arms for as long as he dared, and pressing a kiss into her hair, he whispered before letting her go.  “The Tardis is in the kitchen.  Jack has instructions should there be the slightest sign of any danger.”

As they pulled back from one another, Zee stared with fear and anxiety into Aziraphale’s eyes, clinging to him.  He hesitated briefly, not wanting to leave her like this, but he knew her long term safety was better ensured by his leaving right now, so pushing himself back, he stroked a hand through her hair.  “I love you,” he told her, laying another kiss on her forehead.  And then he left the cottage, accompanying Ellie down the hill towards the harbour. 

*

It had been some time before Kilgrave had ‘allowed’ the Doctor his tea.  He’d waited until it was cold before instructing him to fetch it from the tray, on his knees of course, and drink it.  It was petty and silly, but the Doctor understood that the man liked his games, and he was actually surprised and grateful that cold tea and some light humiliation was the worst of his experience so far.

After enjoying the amusement provided by the disgruntled scrunch of his nose that revealed the Doctor’s opinion of the beverage, Kilgrave consulted his watch. 

“Ah, it’s almost time,” he declared.  “We should find our vantage point.  Your new friends are stubborn, detective, so I don’t anticipate much of a show initially… but we’ll certainly be able to provide some excitement.  Come with me.”

He headed out of the room.  “Mrs Jarvis,” he called, once they were in the hallway.  The woman arrived quickly from the kitchen and Kilgrave fixed her with one of his most silky smiles.  “Be a dear for me.  Go right to the top of the path and sit on the bench there, just near the edge of the cliff.”  He leaned in closer to her and whispered some further instructions into her ear that the Doctor couldn’t hear.

‘Crowley, he’s sending the woman onto the clifftop.  I don’t know all the instructions, presumably a trigger, but… think about it.  The town is most famous for the Latimer boy’s murder and he was found on the beach below the cliff.’

‘Got it.  Do you think it’ll be her or the couple at Hawthorn most immediately?’

The Doctor considered. 

‘I think… her?  But I don’t know.  I don’t have enough information Crowley.’ 

‘I’ll let Aziraphale know.  Take care of yourself, Doctor.  We’ll look after everyone else.’

“Detective?” 

Kilgrave’s voice startled the Doctor, who cursed himself for not paying close enough attention; it was obviously not the first time the man had called him.  Following the direction of his voice, the Doctor saw Kilgrave standing at the bottom of the staircase impatiently.  “Follow me.”

He obeyed, following Kilgrave through a door that creaked loudly, into the bedroom at the front of the cottage which had a large window overlooking the harbour.  The man picked up some binoculars from the windowsill and raised them to his eyes, focusing on the pier.  The Doctor, without the helpful magnification, looked out in the same direction.  He could just make out a tall man in black walking towards the pier; he had just left the bridge and was skirting the edge of the harbour. 

Then he noticed two more figures approaching from the other direction, one with recognisably white hair and light-coloured clothes, the other head to toe in grey with dark hair. 

*

“One moment Ellie, Crowley is calling.”  Aziraphale pressed a hand to her arm, pausing his walk and answering his phone.  “Crowley?  …  We’re at the harbour now, just heading towards the police station…  Yes…  Oh…  Oh, goodness…  Yes, I’ll do just that, of course…”  He was concentrating on the conversation, listening to the frightening update from Crowley and the instructions his demon was providing.  So focused was the angel, that he didn’t notice that Ellie had slipped his grasp and jogged a few paces away until he heard her voice.

“Gareth!  Hello, fancy seeing you here.” 

Aziraphale looked up, startled by the sound.  What was she doing?  He saw that his companion had approached a tall man who had been walking in the direction of the pier, wearing what looked like motorcyclist’s leathers.  The man was smiling at her, although also very obviously checking his watch and glancing towards the pier with a strange frequency.  He had the demeanour of someone who was concerned they were late for an appointment. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley asked down the phone.

“Oh, nothing.  I suppose Ellie has just run into a friend, Gareth I believe she called him.  I was a little disturbed that she’d wandered off.”

“What the heaven is she doing wandering off?!”

“She’s just a few paces away.  I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Right.  So you’ll do as I asked?”

“Yes, of course.”  Aziraphale moved closer to Ellie and Gareth.

“I’ll send you a photo of the man Kilgrave has told to meet Zee.  He’s quite distinctive.  Do not approach him.  Safer to let him follow his orders for now.”

“Yes.  Do not approach.  Roger that.”  The angel allowed himself to take just a tiny crumb of enjoyment from the scenario, before anxiety returned to his voice.  “Please take care, Crowley.”

“Yeah, you too, angel.” 

They ended the call.  Aziraphale had arrived just a pace or two away from Ellie now.

“I’m sorry Ellie, I can’t really chat.  I… um… have an urgent meeting.”  It was Gareth speaking now and he was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Ooh, that sounds mysterious.”  There was a slightly giggly aspect to Ellie’s voice that the angel had not heard before.

“Hmm.  I have to meet a woman,” Gareth explained distractedly.  “It’s very important.”

“Oh.  Another woman?”  Ellie sounded disappointed and Aziraphale realised that she must have some kind of romantic connection to this man.

“An errand for…”  He paused, seeming a little confused.  “For a… well, he said it was important.  I have to take her to someone.”

“Oh, of course,” Ellie replied.  Then she paused, clearly thinking.  “Oh… shit!  No, hang on…” she continued, apparently with dawning comprehension. 

“I really should go.” 

Aziraphale gasped as he finally understood what Ellie had clearly realised already, and then he felt his phone vibrating in his hand; the promised photograph must have arrived. 

Opening the message, the angel looked at the photo, seeing confirmation of the conclusion he’d just come to by himself. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, and the others both turned to stare at him in shock at the sudden profanity.

“Aziraphale, it’s him!” Ellie hissed, clearly distressed.  “We have to do something!”

He shook his head.

“We can’t.”

Sensing his chance, the man made to hurry away, but Ellie noticed immediately and reached for him desperately.  “Ellie, no!” Aziraphale called out.  “Let him go!”

With Ellie clinging to his right arm, Gareth raised his left, in which he held a large, steel wrench, on which Ellie’s eyes were fixed with a wide, horrified gaze, although she didn’t let go of him.  Sensing the urgency of the situation, Aziraphale threw himself forward and pulled her arm away, releasing Gareth.

“Go!” he instructed. 

As if released from a trance, the man glanced in shock at his own hand, lifted above his head with the wrench clutched tightly.  Eyes wide, he lowered it, and then glared at Aziraphale and Ellie.  “Go!” the angel reiterated, and the man did not need to be told again.  He strode away, heading quickly towards the pier. 

“What are you doing?  He’s under Kilgrave’s control, we have to help him!” Ellie insisted, watching him go, wriggling in Aziraphale’s hold but getting nowhere against the angel’s strength. 

“We have to let him follow his instructions, Ellie.  It’s safer to let him do as he’s told.”

“Safer?”  She stilled and Aziraphale relaxed his grasp on her arm slightly.

“You saw what he did when you grabbed him, Ellie.  He has a weapon and will use it if we try to interfere.  We must let him try to follow his instructions.”

“But… I know him.  We… we went on our first date on Saturday night.”

Aziraphale sighed.

“I’m sorry, Ellie.  We have to let him go.  For now at least.”  He released her completely, patting her shoulder reassuringly.  “And you should go to Alec’s office where it’s safe; I’ll escort you, and then you can observe on the CCTV.”

“Where are you going?” Ellie asked, inferring that he wasn’t going to be remaining with her.

“I have to prevent a murder.”

Chapter Text

The Doctor witnessed the scene on the harbour with his hearts in his mouth.  He could only see the tiny figures and that they were close together, shifting about slightly, but the tension made him feel sick as he hoped desperately that Crowley would have communicated the necessity of allowing the man to attend what would be an unsuccessful rendezvous with Zee.  His anxiety wasn’t helped by the commentary he was hearing from the figure next to him, Kilgrave excited by the same scenario that was causing the Doctor so much worry.

“Oh… what luck that the angel and your DS have run into our man!  I suppose their presence and the complete absence of Zee indicates that your new friends are going to fail to comply with my request, but perhaps we’ll get some entertainment at least… Ooh… yes, she’s stopping him… oh, it’s like the security guard all over again, but this time I get to see the horror on their faces! …  Oh… stupid interfering angel… damnit!  They’re letting him go.  Interesting…” 

The Doctor felt Kilgrave turning to him.

“Why are they there, detective?  Do you know why they’re there?”

In truth, the Doctor didn’t know exactly.  He shook his head.

“Tell me honestly.”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm.”  Kilgrave focused on the harbour again and the Doctor did too, observing the man in black now walking quickly down the pier, and the others moving towards the police station. 

Several minutes passed, during which the man reached the bench and sat, waiting for the woman who was never going to turn up.  In reality, the Doctor thought, he was waiting for Kilgrave to come and release him.  He wondered how long that might take.

Midday came and went.  Neither Aziraphale nor Ellie emerged from the police station.  The man in black continued to sit on the bench.  Kilgrave appeared unsurprised but nevertheless vibrated with anger at the blatant disobedience to his wishes displayed by the angel and demon.

“I half suspected you might persuade them, DI Hardy, given the threats made against your precious town.  Stubborn, aren’t they?”  The Doctor glared at him, not answering the question.  Kilgrave’s lips curled into a little smile.  “Well, perhaps it will do you good to witness firsthand the consequences of their actions.” 

The Doctor swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat.  He hadn’t expected to be made a part of whatever revenge the man had planned and the fear Kilgrave must be able to observe in his expression was genuine.

“Don’t worry.  You won’t be sacrificed, not yet anyway.  Your face is too valuable, Alec Hardy.”  Kilgrave bit his bottom lip and allowed himself a small laugh.  “No.  You’re simply going to deliver a message for me.  You will leave the cottage and walk up the path to the top of the cliff.  Our wonderful host, Mrs Jarvis is enjoying the view from the bench there.  You will join her and you will deliver this message: ‘pineapple’.  You will remain sitting on the bench for ten minutes afterwards and then you will return to this cottage.  At no point will you communicate with any other person in any way, outside the delivery of the message.”

So ‘pineapple’ was the trigger.  The Doctor felt that he had a fairly certain idea what would happen when he said it and hoped that Crowley had managed to arrange protection.  However, he hadn’t seen Aziraphale leave the police station and was concerned that the message hadn’t got through properly.

“Off you go, then,” Kilgrave instructed, nodding towards the door. 

The Doctor began to follow his instructions, leaving the room and descending the stairs.  He could feel panic rising up inside him and spoke urgently to Crowley. 

‘Crowley, it’s definitely her.  I’m being sent to her to deliver the trigger and I’m sure she’ll walk off the cliff when I do.  Is it safe?  Can I do that?’

‘Aziraphale is on it.  Calm down, Doctor.’

‘He went into the police station with Ellie and I haven’t seen him leave… are you sure it’s safe?  I can’t kill this woman… if it’s not safe, I’ll just have to drop character and take a chance.  I think I know where the pendant is but it’s really speculation…’

He reached the front door and pulled it open, stepping outside and past the bodyguards, then making for the footpath that would take him up to the clifftop.

‘Doctor, trust me.  Do as you’ve been instructed.  The woman will be fine.’

‘Are you certain?’

The panic was building in his chest, combining with his terror and making him feel a powerful wave of nausea as he continued almost robotically traversing the rocky path beneath his feet.

‘Trust me.  Trust Aziraphale.  Do what you’ve been told to do.’

The Time Lord felt reassurance like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, the feeling sent to him via the powerful bond between himself and the demon.  He inhaled deeply, trying to slow his hearts and focus on his task.  He had to have faith in his friends; together they would prevent anything too terrible from happening. 

One foot in front of the other, the unfamiliar smart shoes slipping a bit on the loose gravel.  Deep breaths in and out. 

He reached the point where the path levelled out at the top of the cliff and saw Mrs Jarvis not too far away, sat patiently on the bench.  Crowley was faint now, almost out of range, the reassurance of his presence dimming.

‘Is it safe, Crowley?’

‘Trust us.’

‘I think I’m about to lose you Crowley, too far away.’

‘I can try and move a bit closer.’

‘No, keep watch on those people.  I’ll do this.  And in ten minutes, I’ll go back to him as instructed.’

Another couple of steps and the Doctor felt the absence of Crowley like a hole in the middle of his consciousness, something important missing.  He always felt an awareness of Crowley’s absence in the first moments after they’d been together, but it was more intense now, because he’d give anything to have the support of the demon’s hand in his while he completed his task.  He felt very alone.

Trust Crowley and Aziraphale. 

He sat down on the bench next to the woman.  She was staring out over the sea.  He looked at her.  Probably in her 70s, short-cropped silver hair, with a vague air of youthfulness despite the wrinkles because she was clearly still very active.  The Doctor placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, feeling the delicate bones of her hand beneath his, the warm and dry skin, very soft under his fingertips.  The fragile human body.

He glanced quickly across to the west cliff, to the cottage nestled neatly halfway up it, and then back to the woman next to him.

Trust them.

“Pineapple.”

There was the faintest hitch in her breath as she immediately stood, pulling her hand out from beneath the Doctor’s.  He could see tension in her body, and traces of hesitation in the way she moved, because she knew what she was doing.  Tears pooled in his eyes as he watched, knowing that even if Aziraphale was there, this was still going to traumatise the woman, who was simply unlucky enough to live in the cottage with the best view of the harbour from the east cliff. 

She never paused, despite the obvious signs of terror, and the Doctor felt a new appreciation for the bravery of Kilgrave’s victims. 

He gasped as she took the final step from the springy grass of the solid clifftop onto the air that would fail to support her body, his own body trapped on the bench by his horror almost as securely as if he really was subject to Kilgrave’s will.

*

Aziraphale barely ever made use of his ability to teleport.  Even historically, when fulfilling the commands of his superiors in heaven, he’d typically chosen more human methods of transportation (even when that meant horses, and he’d despised travelling on horseback).  So, using the ability now felt a little rusty; he hoped he’d be able to navigate successfully and that he wouldn’t feel too nauseous afterwards.

Focusing on the beach below the east cliff, aiming particularly for the point just off the path where he’d watched the dog playing in the surf yesterday morning (it was just over twenty-four hours ago and felt like about a month), because he knew exactly where that was, he gave Ellie an encouraging smile, and snapped his fingers. 

A second later, dizziness striking his head and his hand clasped over his mouth as a wave of nausea washed through him, the angel looked around him.  The cliffs towered over him to his left and the beach stretched out in front of him down to the sea, waves glittering beneath the sun. 

He was exactly where he meant to be.

“Oh, thank goodness!” he exclaimed, tugging on his waistcoat and smoothing it.  Glancing up to the clifftop, he attempted to recall exactly where the first bench was at the top of the footpath.  Once he’d selected a spot, he took off his jacket to give himself better freedom of movement, folding it neatly and laying it on a nearby rock.  Fortunately the beach was relatively quiet, but the angel cast a miracle to disguise his presence, and then positioned himself carefully, waiting with his eyes trained on the fringe of grass that marked the very edge of the clifftop.

Eventually, a head appeared, just about visible from Aziraphale’s position, which he adjusted to line up with it, pleased that he’d got the spot almost exactly right.  There was no hesitation from the figure as it then stepped forward and out onto the air, and none from the angel as he followed every movement, ensuring that he was in the correct position to break their fall.  Manifesting his wings, he pushed gently off the sand to meet them.

Aziraphale’s angelic strength allowed him to easily hold onto the body as it fell into his arms, and an extra miracle prevented any injury to the woman, assisted by the give in his position since he was flying, rather than stationary on the ground.  Smoothly returning to the sand, he knelt, gently placing the woman down onto it, lifting a hand to her head and administering a blessing to keep her calm and ease her mind towards sleep.  She looked up at him as her eyes began to flutter closed. 

Crowley had suggested that it would be best to leave the woman on the beach afterwards, unconscious but uninjured.  She’d remember bits of what happened probably, but given the circumstances her story was hardly likely to be coherent, and she’d recall an angel with bright white wings saving her, which would only sound crazy to most who heard it. 

Someone would find her and call for help, and hopefully the arrival of the emergency services on the scene would fool Kilgrave into thinking a body had been found, at least for a while, buying the Doctor some time before having to face the wrath of his captor.  Their intervention would probably be assumed once he worked out that the woman had survived her fall with no injuries, but at least they weren’t being too obvious about it.   

“You’re going to be ok,” Aziraphale whispered, giving the woman’s silver hair a gentle stroke.  Then he stood and retrieved his jacket, putting it back on as he walked casually away, miraculously erasing his footprints in the soft sand.  He told his phone to send Crowley a text confirming the successful completion of his task, and then snapped his fingers again, returning to Alec’s office.  Not a single trace of his presence would have been visible to anybody watching from the east cliff. 

*

The Doctor’s sense of time allowed him to measure out his ten minutes with a somewhat painful precision.  Although it often became scrambled by prolonged or intimate exposure to Jack’s timeless presence, it was currently operating just fine, and he counted the seconds until he would have to return to Kilgrave. 

There was a numb feeling throughout his body as he waited for news regarding the fate of Mrs Jarvis.  He trusted the angel and demon completely but there were still so many variables and until he knew for sure, he couldn’t shake the haunting thought of her body lying on the sand below, lifeless, with her limbs angled awkwardly as she’d impacted the ground.

Tearing his eyes from the horizon where they’d settled at the line between the two shades of blue, lighter in the sky and deeper in the sea, he turned his head to the right, following the line of the footpath up the opposite cliff, to the uppermost of the row of cottages.  His two humans were there, possibly together, although he knew Zee had been meeting with Beth this morning. 

His partner would be worried sick; he could see in his mind’s eye the way Jack’s jaw would be tense, the steel in his blue eyes as he pushed his feelings down inside and maintained a firm grip on them.  His fingers would be clenching and unclenching repeatedly, anxiously.  The Doctor knew every inch of that body and how it responded to stress (that he’d known for a long time, because that was knowledge based on the relentless weeks and months of study on the Valiant), and he longed to smooth his palm across Jack’s shoulders and feel the tightness unravelling, to press a kiss against that jaw and relax the tension there.

Then there was Zee.  He’d been thrilled to hear she was up and about, interacting, eating.  Those first days and weeks after her return from New York had been long and painful.  He’d travelled forwards and backwards to far-flung galaxies and distant times searching for treats that might tempt her back to eating properly, desperate to feel useful and to give some demonstration to her of his love and his commitment to seeing this through.  And she’d not left that bedroom at the bookshop for weeks.  Hearing that she’d been eating breakfast and had consented to a meeting with Beth today had soothed the most intense of his concerns for her, and given him renewed hope that she’d come through the other side of this hell she’d been put through. 

All this was for them.  Both of them.  To keep them safe. 

As he let his gaze, wet with tears, slide back along the line of the horizon, he felt a faint sense of relief in his mind, spreading through his body and allowing his taut muscles to relax a little.  It wasn’t his own feeling and it took a second or two for him to realise that it was Crowley, just barely coming into range for him to feel his presence.  He concentrated hard on pushing his own consciousness back towards that of the demon to strengthen the connection, weak at this distance.

‘Crowley?’

‘She’s fine.’

His own relief joined Crowley’s and intensified the sensation, like two waves converging from different directions, drawn together by the current and combining. 

‘I have to wait here for a few more minutes and then go back to the cottage.’

‘Aziraphale’s left her on the beach so there will be some response, enough drama to hopefully let him think it’s all happened as he planned, at least for a time.  When he finds out she’s alive, he’ll likely be angry.  You have to be prepared for that.’

He’d known there would probably be consequences if they interfered.  They couldn’t keep the rescue secret forever, although their intervention being subtle was an intelligent choice.

‘I know.  Clever to try and buy me some time though.’

‘Focus on getting the pendant,’ Crowley advised.  ‘We need to move quickly before it becomes trickier to protect people.’

‘I think it’s in his jacket pocket, but I need to wait for an opportunity to confirm.’

‘Just be careful.  Um, Aziraphale had a question too, Doctor.  He wondered what you might be able to tell them about the instructions Kilgrave gave to the man who was supposed to meet Zee.  Any details.’

‘He’s to attack himself with the wrench he’s carrying if anyone attempts to prevent him obeying his instructions, which were to meet Zee at the pier and take her to Hawthorn Cottage, or remain at the bench on the pier if she didn’t turn up.  He can’t leave that bench until Kilgrave tells him to or time releases him.’

‘Right.  Thanks.  I’ll be right here, Doctor.  Try to stay calm.’

*

Ellie was watching the CCTV feed from the harbour closely, anxiety written all over her features, so focused that she barely flinched when Aziraphale teleported back into the office, and joined her in observing the footage. 

The angel quickly realised that Kilgrave’s choice of delivery man was a problem and that they needed to know as much as possible about his instructions so that they could either find a safe way to help Gareth, or be more confident about leaving him be for now.  Ellie wasn’t going to settle until something had been done, so Aziraphale contacted Crowley again, requesting any details his husband could provide about Gareth’s instructions.

“Did you manage to keep the person safe?” Ellie asked, not breaking the firm hold her gaze had on the computer screen.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied.  “She is physically unharmed, although I imagine she’ll need some help to process her experience.”

“Good.”

The angel received a reply from Crowley, which he read.

“Ellie, I know you’re worried about your friend, Gareth.” 

She nodded distractedly and pointed vaguely to the screen.

“He’s still there, still on the pier.  I can’t see all of it but he’s not left.”

“Yes.  Well, it appears that his instruction if Zee failed to arrive was to remain there until Kilgrave instructs otherwise.  He’ll just sit on the bench where you met Zee, so we don’t need to be too alarmed at present.”

“Right.”  Ellie continued watching, only slightly relaxing at the news that Gareth wasn’t in any immediate danger.  After a couple of minutes, she tensed again.  “Aziraphale?  How long will he be there?”

“Oh,” the angel replied.  “I’m… If Kilgrave doesn’t come, then it would be until his power wears off.  Twenty four hours.”

“But Kilgrave will have to come here, to change his orders.  Can’t we plan to set a trap for him or something?”

Aziraphale considered the suggestion.

“Um… I think it’s probably too risky.  It’s a very public location, so there are a lot of opportunities for him to use people as human shields.  Ultimately, when we move against him, we’ll need to try and isolate him as much as possible, to protect the public.”

“Oh.  Yeah, of course.  You do think he’ll come and change Gareth’s instruction though?”

The question was tricky.  Aziraphale rather suspected that, unless Kilgrave had some other use for him, Gareth would be left as he was until Kilgrave’s power wore off, which would be a long twenty four hours. 

“I don’t know, Ellie.”

She sighed and Aziraphale laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.  The situation was pulling them all in and increasingly tangling all their emotions into it, and the longer it went on, the more complicated it became.  They couldn’t possibly hope to protect everyone. 

“If he doesn’t come soon, we should take Gareth some water and food,” she suggested, and the angel smiled. 

“Yes.  Although, let me do it.  In case Kilgrave does come.”

Ellie finally let her eyes leave the screen, just briefly turning and meeting Aziraphale’s gaze.  He could see the fear and a slight edge of panic in her expression, although there a determined set to her jaw that reminded him of Alec.  They certainly made a formidable team, he thought, in their usual roles, tracking down criminals and bringing them to justice.  He wouldn’t like to be interrogated by the pair.

She nodded and returned her focus to the CCTV.

*

The Doctor was kneeling in the centre of the living room in the cottage again, while Kilgrave was back in his previous comfortable spot on the sofa.  Since returning, the Time Lord had maintained a rather haunted look on his features, eyes continually glistening with unshed tears as he played the role of a man who had just sent an innocent woman to her death.  Hardy would never forgive himself, the Doctor knew, even for the non-fatal harm caused by giving the instruction to walk off the cliff’s edge in the circumstances the Doctor had managed to arrange.

His acting appeared to satisfy his captor, who was arrogant, certain enough of the near-infallibility of his own power, not to harbour much in the way of doubt regarding the successful carrying out of his orders.  It wasn’t long before the sound of sirens down below carried up to the cottage and the Doctor could observe the horrifically self-satisfied smirk that appeared on Kilgrave’s mouth.  He dreaded what might happen once the man discovered his plan had been thwarted by the angel and demon. 

The apparent obedience of ‘Alec’ in sending Mrs Jarvis to her death had a positive consequence though; Kilgrave had a tendency to become cocky once he had tested a person, once he trusted that they were fully under his control.  And that made him, in his arrogance, inclined to taunt, making them the audience to whom he could show off his cleverness, which in itself might not seem positive, but it caused him to reveal exactly the kind of information the Doctor was hoping for. 

“You were with them, yesterday, the angel and the demon…” the man mused, gazing thoughtfully at the Doctor.  “What do they know?  Or more accurately, what do they think they know?”  He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers steepled beneath his chin.  “I presented Zee with a gift…” 

The Doctor was listening closely, mind working fast in the background, trying to calculate the best response to each word Kilgrave spoke.

“Have they realised that it isn’t the original yet?”  He delivered the information in an overly casual manner, clearly toying with his captive.

It struck the Doctor that Kilgrave must not have witnessed Crowley’s experiments on the pier, despite the fact he’d been watching from the balcony of the Wilson’s apartment.  He knew about Kilgrave’s interactions with Mark though, Crowley having updated him overnight, and surmised that their adversary must have been providing instructions to James Wilson regarding the interception of the paramedic while Crowley was testing the pendant’s power on Ellie.  What timing! 

Painting an expression of shock onto his features, the Doctor allowed Kilgrave to believe that they hadn’t made that discovery.  The man appeared surprised.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, eyebrows lifting high on his forehead.  “So, they think it’ll work?  How fascinating…”

The Doctor narrowed his own eyes into a glare, setting tension into his jaw as he showed Kilgrave how concerned Alec was by this new information.  The man bit his bottom lip as he smiled, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.  When his hand emerged, the glisten of a gold chain could be seen dangling from it, and as he adjusted his fingers, the familiar form of Zee’s pendant dropped from them, swaying back and forth on the chain.  The Time Lord’s hearts soared in his chest, somewhat excessive joy racing through his veins as he saw the prize he was risking so much to retrieve.  Just saw.  He would need to watch and plan carefully before he could actually hold the thing in his hand…   

“Why would I give back the one thing that keeps me from controlling every thought in her head and every movement of her body?  While I have this pendant, Zee is mine, every second of every day.  She can never truly shake me while the possibility of me lingers.”

Anger surged up inside the Doctor, his joy instantly erased by Kilgrave’s words, and his hands shaking as he struggled to keep his emotions locked inside. 

“They may have used their magic to keep her safely locked in that cottage, but one lapse in their watch, one false move, and I will slip so easily back into her head.”  Kilgrave grinned.  “Effortlessly,” he added lightly. 

“You won’t ever get close enough,” the Doctor muttered, voice tight with the emotions he was clinging onto.

Kilgrave rose elegantly to his feet, in that liquid manner that characterised all who had this body, laughing as he strolled towards the window and looked out over the bay.  Even from the ground floor, he’d probably just be able to spot the man sat on the harbour, and certainly the cottage on the opposite cliff where Zee was safe.

“Is the princess going to remain locked in the tower forever?” he asked mockingly.  “Are her knights in shining armour going to fight the wicked, mind-controlling wizard?”

The Doctor refused to answer, seething with silent rage from his position on the floor.  Eventually Kilgrave turned to him and fixed him with a very serious look.

“I posed a question to them before.  How many people would have to die before they would realise that giving her up to me was preferable?  They never gave me an answer, so I’m repeating it now.  How many people will have to die before they give her to me?  It’s your town, detective inspector.  People in your town are going to die.  One each day until they give her to me.” 

The Time Lord allowed the threat to linger in the air between them, a slight ease softening the tension in his body as he realised they might have some time before needing to worry about the man’s next victim.  Assuming he didn’t realise what they’d done with the first of course. 

He was breathing hard as he continued fighting to remain calm.  Kilgrave had picked on the wrong people if he thought this kind of manipulation would work.  He would raze whole planets to the ground for those he loved.  And he knew Aziraphale and Crowley would quite literally move heaven and earth, and hell if necessary, for their loved ones. 

“They will never give her up,” he stated.

“And how do you feel about that, Alec Hardy?  People in your town dying, out of nothing more than jealousy…”  Kilgrave lightened his tone.  “They only have to allow me to be with the woman I love, that’s all.  Tell me how that stands with you, detective?”

“My understanding is that Zee does not consent to being with you,” the Doctor calmly replied, just about able to maintain the blankness of his voice.  “Therefore I support their attempts to protect her from you, although I will also do everything I can to protect innocent lives being lost.”

A momentary, involuntary flicker of furious pain passed through Kilgrave’s eyes at the Doctor’s assertion about Zee’s feelings. 

“You know what they can do… I saw the demon’s reaction to you.  Who’s to say he hasn’t got inside her head?  Made her choose them…”

“She does not want to be with you.  She loved them long before you even met her.”

Kilgrave was becoming angry and the Doctor pushed his own anger down as much as he could, understanding that one of them must remain in control, and for the sake of their plan it had to be him.  The other man approached him, face taut with fury, and crouched down, looking steadily into his eyes.

“I will have her,” he declared in a low, growling tone.  He paused, glaring at the Doctor for several seconds before rising back to his feet and returning to the window.  “Go to the kitchen and make me some tea.”

*

In Alec’s absence, Ellie attended the emergency call on the beach accompanied by a detective constable.  Aziraphale followed at a short distance to keep a close eye on proceedings, Ellie advising her colleague that the strange man was down from London, inspecting local forces. 

Their proximity meant they arrived on the scene first, before the ambulance, and had to clear a small crowd of concerned members of the public out of the way.  The woman on the ground was unconscious but breathing fine, and displayed no signs of injury, although the fact that nothing seemed able to rouse her did give the suggestion of a head trauma.  Ellie allowed her DC to keep an eye on the woman, while she spoke with the couple who had first discovered her.

“What did you see?”

“We were just walking along the beach, and came across this woman lying on the sand.  She didn’t seem to be sunbathing or anything, no towel or blanket, no bag… just lying there,” the man answered.

“She wasn’t moving,” his wife added, “so I thought we should check if she was ok.  Nothing would make her wake up, so George called an ambulance.”

“Did you see how she got here?”

They both shook their heads. 

“Did you seen anyone else around?”

“No,” they replied simultaneously.  Ellie glanced towards Aziraphale who was hovering a short distance away.  At least he’d kept himself hidden. 

She spoke with the other people who’d gathered, a dog walker who’d arrived just after the couple and gave a similar account of proceedings, and a young couple with a baby who’d come over to see if they could help.  Nobody had seen what had happened, which ordinarily would have frustrated Ellie, but in this case was helpful.  She took everyone’s details and requested that they move further away to the edge of the beach. 

Shortly afterwards, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics made their way across the sand to their little group.  Not having any immediate explanation for the unresponsiveness their initial checks demonstrated, they very carefully moved her onto a spinal board to take her off to hospital, accompanied by DC Higgins.

Ellie stood with Aziraphale, watching as they left.

“What did you do to her?”

“Angelically induced sleep.  Nothing human can wake her.”

“For how long?”

“The effects will wear off in twelve hours or so.”

“And then?”

“She’ll be fine.  Confused of course, both due to Kilgrave’s interference and the subsequent deep sleep.  She’ll recall an angel saving her, with bright white wings.”  There was the faintest trace of amusement in the angel’s voice; he appeared pleased with his work.

“Nobody will believe that,” Ellie snorted incredulously.

“Precisely.”  Aziraphale gave her a benign smile before glancing up to the top of the cliff.  “I do hope the Doctor is ok.”

Ellie followed the track of his gaze, her mind supplying her with a host of unhelpful images that made her breath catch in her throat; the vision of the woman falling, not knowing that an angel would save her, followed by recollections of the last time she’d been on this beach in similar circumstances, a little further along, discovering Danny’s body.  Beth’s horror.  And her own battle with her emotional response.  Not knowing then that it was her own husband who’d placed the boy’s body on the sand.  She felt dizzy suddenly, the urge to vomit making itself felt acutely, and she clasped a hand over her mouth instinctively, eyes filling with tears.

“Ellie?” Aziraphale exclaimed, noticing her distress.  “Ellie?  What’s wrong?”

She let out one sob, just one, before closing her eyes tightly and sucking a deep draught of oxygen into her lungs. 

“I’m fine, fine, don’t worry.  Just… memories.”

“Oh…”  Realisation washed over his face.  “Oh, goodness.  Ellie, dear, come here.”

Aziraphale stepped closer, made a quick gesture with his hand to provide them with privacy, and then wrapped his strong arms around her in a hug.  After initially stiffening at the unexpected embrace, Ellie relaxed into the angel’s arms, feeling the overwhelming power of what she assumed must be some kind of angelic aura, soothing her and lifting the darkness that the memories threatened to envelop her in. 

He held her for a while, until she felt better, more able to carry on, and then she shifted in his arms.  He let go, moving away and adjusting his waistcoat, with a subtle cough as he cleared his throat.  Brain back in gear, Ellie considered what they should do next.    

“Kilgrave needs to believe he was successful for as long as possible.”  Her tone was businesslike again, her emotions successfully quelled back into the place they had to occupy when she was working.  “We should cordon off this section of the beach as a crime scene, for it to be investigated.  Suspicious circumstances, body found on beach…”  

Taking her phone from her pocket, she began making the arrangements to sell the story to Kilgrave.       

Chapter Text

Three days earlier – Saturday afternoon.

The bookshop had been surprisingly challenging to find.  Somehow, in 2034, it did not have an online presence and the information he’d drawn from Zee had turned out to be rather vague when he’d actually attempted to utilise it.  It had begun to seem like the place didn’t want to be found, which was obviously ridiculous. 

After exhausting the assistance of internet searches and experiencing an infuriating lack of success with his usual tactic of compelling the assistance of members of the public, Kilgrave had finally found the place by accident, wandering frustratedly through the streets of Soho and suddenly stumbling across it while mumbling curses against the angel and demon who lived there.  Pausing to cross at a busy junction, he’d looked up and seen the building on the corner opposite; deep red walls topped with exposed brickwork on the upper floor, faintly shimmering gold declaring ‘A Z Fell & Co’ above the door. 

His mouth had curved into a sly grin, brown eyes twinkling with dark pleasure.  He’d found them.

Looking around, he’d assessed his options for observation, a bustling coffee shop across the street drawing his eye, perfectly located for studying his target if he could blend into the crowd.  Tugging the hood of his plum-hued sweatshirt further over his face, he’d crossed the road and entered the café, ordering a tea and settling at a table in the corner by the window, eyes fixed on the bookshop.  The woman behind the counter had eyed him curiously as if trying to get a better view of his face, but he’d told her not to ask questions and to get his order with a smile, so she’d remained quiet, and smiled happily as she’d placed his drink on the table in front of him.

Kilgrave knew it was dangerous to be here, so close to the angel and (particularly) the demon without bodyguards, but he’d left his temporary base in a stylish Mayfair apartment alone, needing to take a walk to clear his head after running up against dead end after dead end as he searched the city for his prey.  And, he supposed, if they should come this way and happen to spot him, he’d quickly be able to turn this coffee shop into a haven of human shields to thwart any move against him. 

Finally being here after so long was thrilling though; to have her within his grasp once again. 

He recalled the journey that had led him here.  One moment he’d been in his suite in New York, head still splitting in agony after the demon’s brutal attack on his mind but also suddenly luxuriating in the relief of knowing that he’d stopped.  For a moment, Kilgrave had been sure that the demon was going to kill him, only to realise with increasing certainty that he wouldn’t.  Their consciences really were their weakness and this supposed minion of hell was going to spare his life out of some misplaced sense of pity.  Which was sickening but also, of course, an immense relief, and in his weakened state, he’d gazed up at his doppelgänger with a somewhat pathetic gratitude in his eyes. 

Although it had soon become clear that the gratitude had been a little premature.

There had been a loud snap and a whirling, tightening, disorientating feeling, followed by the stab of a thousand shards of ice all over his body; the sudden, sharp sensation of incredible cold.  He’d felt dizzy and intensely nauseous, retching several times before finally opening his eyes and being almost blinded by the brightness of the white environment around him. 

The intensity of the cold was painful, combining with the pain still throbbing in his head from Crowley’s assault to create an almost unendurable agony.  It had taken several attempts to orient himself and find the ground, and several more to push against it, attempting to stand.  The shocking burn of the snow made him pull his hands back instinctively, and he gritted his teeth, preventing them chattering and forcing himself to try again, until eventually, staggering to his feet, he’d looked about him, shielding his eyes from the blinding, endless white.

He had briefly thought that he must be in hell, perhaps a different part of it than the traditional pits of darkness and flames popularly characterised in Christian mythology.  The demon had in fact killed him and sent him here to freeze in eternity.

But then he’d considered that maybe this was some trick, some result of the demon’s magic.  And since the strength of his own mental power was at least comparable to that of the demon…

He’d focused on controlling himself, closing his eyes against the relentlessness of the featureless environment and pushing back the pain to clear his mind.  But of course Kilgrave had always been the one human being Kilgrave couldn’t control, and his consciousness struggled against him, unwilling to cooperate with his commands, wanting to focus instead on the pain and the cold and the unfairness of it all.

He'd screamed into the frozen air, furious with himself and with the stupid demon and the stupid angel and their stupid, stupid whore of a girlfriend…  And then he’d gasped agonising, freezing oxygen into his lungs, aghast at himself. 

Zee. 

They’d stolen her from him, taken her goodness only knew where… away.  And now he didn’t know where she was or where he even was and he would never see her again.  And that was unacceptable. 

Another hoarse scream ripped itself from his chest, rage rising up and inflicting itself upon the space around him.  He couldn’t… not when he’d found her and known her and understood what it was like to be wanted.  No.  He couldn’t bear it.  Eyes still closed, he let himself see again the desire in her eyes, feeling the ghost of her touch on his body, warmth trickling through his veins and melting the ice as he remembered.  The faintest trace of her taste lingered on his tongue after their kiss in the hotel lobby and he focused on it greedily, recalling the slide of her tongue in his mouth.  No.  He wouldn’t be without her.  He refused.  One way or another, just like he’d promised himself… 

A sound had attracted his attention then.  A distant rumble carried along the frozen ground.  His ears were burning, aflame with the cold, but he felt it was real, the sound… it was real and it was increasing, wasn’t it?  Coming closer. 

Opening his eyes, he’d looked around again, barely able to focus on anything because of the unrelenting brightness, but there – on the horizon, a slight darkening. 

He couldn’t be sure immediately, and then concentrating became harder as his muscles began to ache, seizing up as they succumbed to the cold.  But the sound was moving closer he thought, and the shadow on the horizon grew larger. 

He was so cold…

Everything was becoming darker…

Cold.

Dark.

When his eyes had next flickered open, he’d immediately felt that he was warm.  His body still ached, although the most intense pain in his head had lessened, and he could barely move.  As his returning consciousness began to make more sense of things, he comprehended that he was wrapped up tightly and, glancing down, he saw thick furs and blankets tucked snugly around him. 

He appeared to be in some kind of tent, circular and small, made from animal skins.  A small oil lamp and a candle burned on a low table at the other side of the room, providing a dim, flickering light. 

Movement on the floor alerted Kilgrave to the presence of another person and he let out a surprised sound, alarmed to find that he was not alone.  Where was he?  And who was with him?  He felt fear creeping across his skin, an unusual feeling of vulnerability as he didn’t feel in control of his surroundings.  He hated it.

A mound of blankets shifted, revealing a sleeping bag next to his own low bed, and a person emerged from the heap, sitting up and staring at him.  They uttered something incomprehensible and Kilgrave stared at them in confusion.  Although he couldn’t make sense of it, everything felt real, and he began to suspect that the demon had merely sent him somewhere.

He tried to speak but found himself coughing instead, throat still raw from the cold and the screaming.  Eventually, he was able to halt the spluttering cough and find his voice, hoarse but clear.

“Where are we?  Who are you?” 

The other person stared at him.

“Tell me where we are,” Kilgrave quietly commanded.

Brows knitted in complete bafflement, the other continued to stare, and with a sense of quiet dread freezing his body just like the cold had done before, Kilgrave realised that he couldn’t control this person.  He wriggled inside his nest, trying to free himself from the tightly wound blankets, instantly terrified by the unprecedented feeling of vulnerability that had settled like a solid block of ice inside his chest.  Had the demon somehow taken his power? 

The other moved too though, more expertly freeing themselves from the layers that protected them from the unforgiving temperatures.  They garbled something Kilgrave couldn’t understand and then left him alone, still attempting to untangle his limbs.

Shortly afterwards, the person returned with someone else, a younger man, practically a boy, from what Kilgrave could see of their face as they removed some of the thick wrappings covering it.  They smiled happily at him, seeming excited to have been brought in to see him.

“English?” they enquired.

Renewed hope surged through Kilgrave’s body as he nodded somewhat frantically, although he was slightly embarrassed by the enthusiasm of his response. 

“I am Sergei,” the young man continued.  “This is Evgeny.”  He pointed to the original inhabitant of the tent.  “You?”

“Kilgrave.”

“Hello, Kilgrave.”

“Where are we?”

“North of Pyasina River.”

Kilgrave felt a little growl growing in the back of his throat, frustrated at the difficulty of this interaction.

“Where is that?” he asked.

“Siberia.”

Siberia?  The demon had sent him to Russia?   

“You lost?” the boy asked.  Kilgrave glared at him, although that seemed to do little to diminish the sunny smile that was returned.  Through several more painfully slow stages of question and answer, Kilgrave discovered that he had somehow ended up with a small tribe of reindeer herders in northern Siberia, north of the broad bay at the mouth of the aforementioned river.  They were many days journey away from any form of permanent habitation, let alone somewhere that could offer a connection to ‘civilisation’.  That somewhat explained the demon’s action; sending him somewhere inhospitable and remote where he would have no help and no chance of compelling it.  Except… had he struck lucky?

“Take your mittens off.”

Sergei obeyed.  A faint thrill raced through Kilgrave’s veins, hot against the chill.

“Hold your hand in the flame of that candle for ten seconds,” he instructed, nodding towards the candle on the table.

With barely any hesitation, Sergei turned to the table and placed his hand in the flame, the pain instantly visible in the tension of his body, eyes screwed up and mouth open in a harsh gasp.  He held his hand still though, fighting off the attempts of Evgeny to pull him back.

A joyful grin spread across Kilgrave’s face, the weight of the ice in his chest lightening as it began a sudden and almost instant thaw.  He did still have his power, he’d simply needed to find somebody who understood what he was saying, and by some million to one chance he’d not only ended up in the path of a small group of herders, but in the path of one with an English-speaking person.

“You will take me to the nearest town,” Kilgrave ordered once Sergei had removed his tortured hand from the flame.  Evgeny was staring between the two of them, completely unable to understand what was happening and frightened of the magical power that the stranger appeared to be exercising over Sergei.  The boy was clutching his wrist, initially staring at his hand in disbelief and then turning his terrified, tear-filled eyes on Kilgrave. 

Glancing briefly down at that hand, Kilgrave had felt a shudder pass down his spine.  It was the right hand and the burn was in the centre of his palm, just like Zee’s had been.  Emotions swirled chaotically through Kilgrave’s body like water trapped in competing currents; sadness and anger and love and hate fighting like rabid creatures, each eager to dominate.

But then Sergei had nodded.

“We will take you,” he agreed. 

Unfortunately, only being able to effectively communicate with and therefore control one of the people he found himself with proved a barrier to successfully having his wishes accommodated, and despite very strenuously repeating his instructions to Sergei (with a few threats thrown in to encourage success), Kilgrave didn’t make any progress for the first few days, since the boy was completely unable to persuade his elders to change their direction so completely.  They were scared of the stranger who had so suddenly and inexplicably come among them, but that fear only drove them so far; they would take him in, clothe and feed him, but they would not alter their course.  He could be dropped off at the next place they naturally came to. 

Reluctantly accepting that he couldn’t follow through on his threats because he needed Sergei (and that knowledge made him seethe with rage, to need another person on such a pathetic, basic level), Kilgrave had realised that to get anywhere quickly he needed to learn to communicate in the language of the herders, so he ordered the boy to teach him the most important words and phrases he required. 

Frustratingly, the task took several days, even for just the small number of phrases he most needed; they travelled throughout the day and it took time to set up camp and prepare food in the evening, leaving little time for study, besides which Kilgrave was completely exhausted by this new life he found himself in.  The group provided him with suitable clothing to protect him from the cold, but unused to the harshness of the environment and the intensity of the physical work, his slender body struggled, already weakened by his first exposure to the cold, disliking the food, and finding that the gruelling travel pushed it to the limit.  He became weaker, sickly, and had to be transported on one of the group’s sleds, often drifting in a state of semi-consciousness.  Eventually though, after a great deal of painful effort, he was able to express his desires clearly enough to the right people and their journey was turned in the direction he preferred.

Since they’d been travelling in almost completely the wrong direction previously, it still took ten days of hard journeying to reach the village, and even then it was only a small place with a few permanent inhabitants providing goods and trading opportunities for the herders who passed through.  By this time, Kilgrave was a shadow of his former self, his already slim frame appearing emaciated and almost corpse-like, mind exhausted but clinging on desperately to his own one, singular need with a devotion strangely similar to that he evoked in the humans who found themselves in his thrall. 

He had to get her back.

Sergei’s people had left almost immediately, being far out of the way of their intended route, leaving only Kilgrave and his original suit behind, in the home of Dmitry who ran the shop in the village and offered accommodation to the rare visitor who might need it.  His wife Kara took care of their strange guest, nursing him with strong broths and herbal concoctions that she fed to him herself.

As the days passed, and he began to recover, Kilgrave became restless.  He realised that he couldn’t communicate with his hosts but was entirely reliant on their hospitality, having to listen as Kara babbled on about goodness only knew what while she tidied his room or brought his meals, water to clean himself, or fresh clothes.  He forced a smile when she smiled at him, sulking the remainder of the time, hating everything and everyone.

He noticed his suit neatly folded on a chair by the window, seeming to torment him with its reminder of his former life, and once he was strong enough, he seized on it, eager to discover what help the contents of his pockets might provide.  His phone was dead of course, long since depleting its battery.  His wallet contained a variety of cards that were useless in the wilderness of Siberia and a large wad of American money that might prove more helpful with a little persuasion, should he find somebody he was capable of persuading. 

And in another pocket… Zee’s pendant.  He’d felt the weight of something and then the slither of the chain, unsure initially what it was, until his fingers closed around the smoothly polished stone and the swirling strands of gold surrounding it.  A strange pain tightened in his chest when he understood, a sort of ache where he supposed his heart was, and a more intense feeling like he’d been punched with force right at the base of his sternum.  He sat for hours in the chair staring at the shifting patterns of light in the golden sapphire, remembering how Zee had explained to him how it worked, how the stone reflected the light and created the star just beneath the surface.  He couldn’t recall the details, having been too focused on the movements of her lips and the enthusiastic sparkle in her eyes to really take in her words, but he remembered how he’d felt that night, and how her breath had tickled against his ear when she’d whispered to him that he should invite her back to his, and how her tongue had caressed his lips, demanding entry to his mouth.  Never in his whole life had he felt wanted like he had that night. 

“Want you…” she had breathed against his mouth.  “Desperately…” 

Smooth skin beneath his fingertips.  Her hands undressing him.  The taste of her; wet and wanting.  The sounds his touch could elicit… real, genuine pleasure.  The sensation of her body surrounding his.

“ I want to be here.  I want you.  I want to hold you.” 

But a few days later…

“Last night, Kilgrave, I did not want you to touch me.  And to be clear, I never want you to touch me again.”

His hand closed around the pendant, squeezing it in his fist, hatred and love mingling in a dizzying spiral inside him.  He had touched her again.  And he would touch her again.  She couldn’t stop him.  And neither could they.  He’d find a way. 

There had been a knock on the door then and a man had entered.  A man Kilgrave had never seen before, but who turned out to be Eddie, an American geologist, passing through the village and also enjoying the hospitality of Dmitry and Kara.  He spoke Russian, and their host had requested that he speak with their other guest, the sick man, taking advantage of the opportunity for communication.  Eddie was, it turned out, Kilgrave’s ticket out of there.

A lone traveller.  An English speaker.  Controllable. 

Eddie had very kindly abandoned his planned itinerary in favour of conducting Kilgrave on the long truck-ride through the wilderness to Dudinka where they could catch a train to the region’s airport and finally a flight to Moscow.

Civilisation.

For ease, he’d kept Eddie with him while he remained in Russia.  There were far more English speakers around now, but having a reliable translator by his side was more comfortable and the man was very capable.  Kilgrave was still quite weak and they spent more than a month in the Russian capital so that he could rest some more in comfort.  Here was a city with luxury hotels that Kilgrave could feel more at home in, compelling the kind of service that he was used to.  With Eddie’s assistance, he secured a suite in a five star establishment, a private chef to provide him with just the right nutrition to delight his palate while recovering his strength, and a barber attended to the hair and beard that had become quite alarmingly out of control during his weeks in the wilds of Siberia.  His wardrobe was also replenished with his favoured smart tailoring in an array of purple and violet hues, making Kilgrave feel far more like himself.    

While recuperating, he began to make plans…  He’d travel to the UK once he was back to full strength, and he’d find them.  He’d find her. 

The plans became more concrete.  A copy of the pendant was procured through the painstaking labour of a very accommodating jeweller, and it was perfect, surely capable of luring his prey into a false sense of security long enough to allow him to regain control.  And once he had her… she’d be his. 

His desire to take Zee back was a complex thing.  At its most basic, it was a need he didn’t like, a yearning for her that he couldn’t control and that made him want to lash out at his surroundings.  It was animal and stupid and he hated the way it made him feel.  But it also created a warmth in his chest and a feeling of contentment when he remembered what it had felt like to be held in her arms.  He hated it. 

But there was another aspect to his desire that he liked better.  He wanted revenge.  On her for making him feel this way, for showing him what it was possible for him to have, only to inform him that he couldn’t have it, because he’d have to share.  And then later, hurting him by turning away from him completely and brutally rejecting him. 

“I will not love you.  I will never love you.”      

And on them.  For stealing her from him.  For being the ones that she loved.  For having everything that he couldn’t have.  And for doing this to him.

He would prove that he was stronger and he would win. 

Now, in London, watching the bookshop while he sipped his tea, he thought about what winning might look like.  It had always been the image of Zee by his side, back in his arms and in his bed where she belonged.  And always with the fantasy that if he was just patient enough, she would drop this stupid need to fight him and it would be like it had been at first.  He could give her back her pendant (the real one), and they would live happily, no control required to keep her with him.  She’d give him her smile and her affectionate glances and the gentle touch of her hand without prompting.  Voluntarily.  She’d kiss him because she wanted to.  She’d return his ‘I love you’ with one of her own as an honest declaration of her feelings.  And she’d give herself to him freely, enthusiastically, and with true consent. 

Those others would never enter her head.  And that would be true victory, because if it was her choice, they’d have to leave her alone. 

If she didn’t choose him, victory would look a little different of course.  He’d take her regardless, and build a fortress of complex traps around them, trips for the consciences of angel and demon, humans who would sacrifice themselves to guard his happiness.  He could compel her acquiescence to his desires, ensure that she gave him everything he could possibly want, even make her mind believe she wanted, believe she loved.  She'd become so used to it that she might even really come to believe, eventually.  Nobody could manipulate like Kilgrave and once he set his mind to something he would not let up.  Besides which, the fact that he was still breathing was the first sign of his victory; the demon hadn’t killed him and that gave him the confidence to proceed, because it told him that he’d already won.

As the afternoon wore on, he noticed that there were no signs of life at the bookshop.  No curtain twitched.  No shadows moved inside.  As the light began to dim, no lights came on.

“I’m just about to close.”

Kilgrave looked up to find the owner of the coffee shop regarding him with a polite smile.  The place had grown quiet and she was beginning to clear up.

“You know,” she continued, “you look a little familiar.”

“No I don’t,” he snapped, glad of the hood that prevented her from getting a clearer view. 

“No.  You’re right.  Sorry.”

She continued clearing away cups and plates from a nearby table.  There was something irritating about her, but the recognition indicated that she could probably help him. 

“Do you know the people at the bookshop opposite?” he asked, attempting to make the question sound casual.

“Oh yeah.  Good customers.”  She straightened, pausing in her work and resting her hand on her hip, clearly ready and willing, even eager to talk. 

“Tell me about them.  Speak candidly.”

She let out a very short laugh.

“Odd couple, Mr Fell and Mr Crowley as they’d have you call them.  Been there forever and trouble, the pair of them.  Think we don’t know that they’re not quite human.  She seems to keep them in check though, their partner.  Lovely girl, Zee, always has a friendly smile and a kind word.  Well… not so much recently.  She’s not been herself.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh.  They haven’t really told me much.  She went to New York and something happened there.”

“Tell me what you know about that.”  Kilgrave felt a squirming in his gut, some emotion he didn’t quite recognise.

“She was assaulted on a night out.  That’s all they said.  Didn’t see her for weeks, although she was there, at the bookshop.  Never went back to her own place, like she normally would.  Their flirty friend was here all the time, kept coming to buy her favourite treats, although his boyfriend didn’t seem to be around much, the one who looks like Crowley.  Zee’s been out more recently, popped in for a hot chocolate a couple of times.  She’s quieter though, uncharacteristically shy.  Poor girl.”  The woman shook her head sadly.

Flirty friend?  He gave that some thought, before realising it must be the immortal, the alien’s boyfriend.  Although it sounded like the alien had been mostly absent, the other doppelgänger. 

“They don’t appear to be in.  Do you know where they are?”

“Oh, they headed down to the coast yesterday, just the three of them.  Zee’s feeling so much better and I think they wanted to give her a change of scenery, some proper fresh air.”

“Where exactly have they gone?”

“Umm… where was it?”  The woman thought about it.  “Oh!  I know, it was that place where the boy was killed a few years back.  Begins with B… oh, it’s there, right there, tip of my tongue…”  She groaned and Kilgrave felt a growl rising in his throat, frustrated.  “Broadchurch!  That’s the one.”

Kilgrave smiled, excited by the new knowledge and the opportunity it opened up.

“Marvellous.”  He tapped his mug.  “I’ll have another one of these, to take away.” 

The woman went off to get his drink, and he searched for Broadchurch on his phone.  A few minutes later, with a smile on his face and take away tea in his hand, he flagged down a cab outside and told the driver to take him there, via his apartment to collect some things. 

Away from their home, they’d be more vulnerable.  Outside, amongst people, in locations they weren’t used to.  The perfect place for him to announce his return and enact his plan.   

Chapter Text

The remainder of the day passed in an uninspiring routine; moments of intensely painful rage alternating with the flaring heat of humiliation and long intervals of boredom as Kilgrave carried out his errands, the Doctor following him about like a dutiful puppy (accompanied by Crowley, secretly, and also the two ‘bodyguards’; there had been a moment when the man had seemed to debate releasing them, using ‘Alec’ as his protection instead, but he’d decided against it, perhaps concerned that the detective might be too self-sacrificing to prove effective enough in that role).

The most unpleasant part had been when Kilgrave attempted to contact Mark.  He’d tried the paramedic’s phone first, the call remaining unanswered, but they’d not been far from his house, so the group made the short journey there instead.  The Doctor knew that Kilgrave’s search was going to be disappointed and was initially nervous about what consequences that might have.

Ultimately though, despite clearly being annoyed at having his plans disrupted, hating any bump in the smooth flow of his control, Kilgrave had shrugged off the problem, instead fixing his gaze on ‘Alec’ with a dark smile.   

“Did you think he was being friendly?” he asked mockingly.  “Did you think he wanted to be your friend?”  Kilgrave laughed.  “I sent that paramedic to speak with you.  It was all at my order, just to secure your trust, laying the groundwork for potentially getting you alone.”  He approached closer, circling the Doctor and speaking low, directly into his ears.  “How was I to know you’d fall straight into my hands?  Britain’s most stupid detective...  But I don’t really need him anymore, since I have you already.  He’s… surplus to requirements.  And do you know what that makes him, detective inspector?”  The Doctor shook his head, although he did know.  “It makes him a loose end, begging to be tied up.  One little word in his ear will sort that.  Something good.  Perhaps I’ll let you watch… Or maybe I’ll make you the trigger again, just like with sweet Mrs Jarvis.  Maybe I’ll have you deliver the knife with which he’ll open his own throat…”   

The Doctor shuddered at the nonchalant tone with which Kilgrave delivered such murderous speech; it wasn’t unexpected but hearing it was nonetheless a chilling experience.  Obviously, he knew that Mark was actually safe in the exceptionally well-warded cottage, although he ensured his expression displayed more distress than he felt since it was advantageous that Kilgrave continued not to know that. 

He also flinched at the cruelty being demonstrated towards Alec: it had become clear to him in his observations prior to playing this role that the detective was a lonely man, starved of affection but putting up so many barriers that it couldn’t get close.  The Doctor was certainly able to recognise that, having done it for so long himself, but Kilgrave had clearly discovered it too, during his own research, and was using it to bully and toy with the man he thought he had captive. 

In the evening, they returned to Mrs Jarvis’ cottage, Kilgrave smiling at the sight of the white tent on the beach, guarded by a police officer, and taking fish and chips from one of the huts on the way back, having the Doctor carry it for him.  The Time Lord noted that Crowley ensured the food was paid for, even with a generous tip.    

“What about the man you sent to meet Zee?” the Doctor asked as they skirted the edge of the harbour.  Kilgrave smiled.

“He’ll just stay there until my power wears off.  Unless I give him some other instruction.”

“All night?”

“Obviously.”

“But that’s…” the Doctor began to protest, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Would you rather I instructed him to walk off the end of the pier at two in the morning when there’s nobody around?”

The Doctor stared at him with his mouth open.  Then he slowly shook his head. 

“Then stop complaining.”

They proceeded, pausing briefly at Hawthorn Cottage on the way up the hill and switching the exhausted bodyguards for the couple who lived there.  Kilgrave could compel them to remain awake and alert, but he couldn’t overcome the frailties of the human body and recognised that deploying his protection in shifts was necessary.

On their return to Mrs Jarvis’ cottage, the new bodyguards took up their positions at either side of the front door.  Kilgrave ordered ‘Alec’ to serve him his dinner on a proper plate and with proper cutlery in the dining room, waiting on him throughout the meal in case he required a refill for his water or a napkin to wipe grease from his chin.  Only once he was finished did he allow the Doctor to eat his now quite cold portion, from the paper, using the little wooden fork supplied with the food, sitting on the floor in the kitchen.  He was to report back to his captor afterwards. 

He didn’t mind eating his food like this, apart from the fact it was cold, actually preferring fish and chips straight from the paper, and having no concern about sitting on the floor, being perfectly able to make himself comfortable anywhere.  Since Kilgrave wasn’t present, it wasn’t even as humiliating as having to kneel in the living room, and the time alone actually gave the Doctor a proper opportunity to converse with Crowley without being worried about missing something Kilgrave might say.

Earlier, he'd briefly informed Crowley that he knew where the pendant was, but they were now able to form more of a plan.  Kilgrave would need to sleep and the Doctor could use that opportunity to swap the pendants over, hopefully also finding a way to secure the real one by giving it to Crowley. 

After discussing some of the details and possibilities, making arrangements that would hopefully prove possible, Crowley updated the Doctor on events elsewhere, advising him of Mrs Jarvis’ condition, unconscious but perfectly healthy in hospital, before explaining that Zee’s meeting with Beth had been a great success, that Alec had been putting together profiles on Kilgrave’s victims and tracing their movements, compiling evidence about everything Kilgrave had been up to since he’d arrived, and that Aziraphale had provided Gareth, the man on the pier, with food and water, a jacket to keep off the cool of the night, and a book to read to keep him from getting too bored.  The Doctor smiled at that, enjoying the way it demonstrated their compromise between not disrupting Kilgrave’s instructions and thus causing greater problems, and minimising the discomfort experienced by those under his control. 

*

On his return to the living room, the Doctor found Kilgrave by the window, staring out into the darkness.  The lights of the buildings on the opposite cliff were bright against the night sky, and he surmised that the man was looking at the uppermost set, those from the cottage where Zee was safely residing.  It was an uncomfortable reminder of what he’d already witnessed in this man today; the honest belief that he loved her.  The Doctor hated the way that made his own love for her feel dirty, tarnished by association, especially as he knew that Kilgrave had said words to Zee that he never had.  He wished he’d told her when he had the chance, so that she’d have that memory now, while they were parted.

He recalled the first time he’d spoken with her after her ordeal; by text, not aware at the time that she was still in New York.  She’d needed to say it, to reiterate her love, and had apologised, acknowledging that she was being unfair.  It had hurt him to know that she thought he didn’t want to hear ‘I love you’ from her.  But that need she’d felt… he’d understood it more later, once he’d learned what had happened.  She needed all their love to get through this, and he never stopped feeling guilty that she lacked a memory of him telling her how he felt. 

“You haven’t met him, but the alien, the Doctor they call him, has a time machine.”  Kilgrave didn’t turn around, kept staring out across the cliff, but he must have sensed that he was no longer alone.  “Well, apparently he does.  I don’t know if I believe that, because I don’t understand why he’s allowed all this to happen if he could just go back and change it.  If he cares for her, which she seems to believe he does.”  He sighed.

The Doctor swallowed down a lump in his throat, more wary now than at any other point, on edge because the man was speaking about him without knowing that he was present, and was prodding unknowingly at his failure. 

“Perhaps that’s not how it works,” he suggested.  “You see all kinds of explanations for time travel in movies.”  Did Alec watch movies?  He didn’t seem like the type to watch movies…

“Hmm.  Perhaps.”  A few seconds passed before Kilgrave spoke again.  “If I had a time machine I’d go back to the first night I met her.  I’d never known anything like it; the sensation of conversing freely with a person I couldn’t control.  It was… astonishing.  And she… oh, you won’t understand, detective, but she is wonderful.  Smart and beautiful and oh god, the mouth on her.”  He couldn’t see it, but the Doctor knew the man was smiling.  “Sassy.  Too clever.  It wasn’t fair.”

Pushing down his feelings, the agony of hearing this man talk about Zee that way, and the anger at everything, all of it, the entire situation, the Doctor clung onto Alec.  Alec was smart too and Alec would see the contradiction in Kilgrave’s words.

“But if you care about her, why would you create this situation in the first place?  We don’t know enough to understand why he doesn’t undo what you’ve done.  But you’ve chosen to do things you didn’t need to do.  If she’s so traumatised that she…” – Alec’s voice caught in the Doctor’s throat and he had to clear it to continue – “…that she had a panic attack at the sight of my face, then that’s your fault.  Why would you do that to someone you claim to care about?”

Kilgrave whipped around, his face displaying all the anger the Doctor couldn’t let show on his.  Alec could be angry, as a human being, angry for the pain of a woman he’d barely had the opportunity to meet, because he was decent and kind and cared about people, but he couldn’t show all the rage the Doctor actually felt boiling away inside him.

“I don’t have to allow you to speak, detective,” he growled, stepping closer.  “I could shut you up so easily.”

“But I don’t get it!  Make me understand.”  Alec might not be this passionate, the Doctor didn’t know, had certainly never seen it, but he no longer cared.  He couldn’t understand!  Crowley was in his head telling him to calm down, but he ignored the demon’s warnings.  “You talk about her like she’s this precious thing you wish you could have, but she’s not scared of me, not really.  She’s petrified of you.  It’s just my misfortune to share your face.”

“She is precious.”  Kilgrave’s voice carried emotion now.  The Doctor had touched a nerve and reached the man beneath the icy exterior.  “I couldn’t control her.  So when she was interested in me, when she asked questions and listened to my answers, when she empathised, when she responded with kindness and affection, when she wanted me and kissed me and gave herself to me… all of that was real.  Anyone could have worn that pendant, but it was my great fortune that it was her; that the woman who could want me and could take the time to care was also the woman I could not control.”  He turned again, definitely gazing at the cottage now, moving back to the window.  His voice was softer when he continued.  “It was real.”

Somehow containing the entire galaxy of emotions that were coursing through every vein and every nerve in his body in a violent tumult that made him feel like he was going to vomit or faint or possibly, very possibly, strangle the last breath out of the man in front of him, the Doctor managed to control his voice.

“So why did you take it away?  You killed that the second you took the pendant from her.”  Did Alec know these things?  How much would they have shared?  Who cared?

“Because she wasn’t mine.  Her heart belongs to them.”  He spat that word.  “There was no room for another.”

The explanation was not really news to the Doctor, although hearing it from the man’s own mouth was freshly painful.  It was just jealousy. 

“I think you’re wrong,” the Time Lord said quietly, witnessing Kilgrave stiffen at the words.  “I think you underestimate her capacity for love.  She was happy with Aziraphale and Crowley, and then the Doctor came along, and she found space for him too.”  He almost lost control saying that, and he realised that he probably shouldn’t be saying it at all, but he couldn’t help himself.  “You just wanted her for yourself.  Her heart’s too big for just one person and you tried to put it in a little cage to keep it for yourself, choking the life and the brilliance out of it.”

Kilgrave’s hands were forming fists at his sides and he was visibly vibrating, a little growl audible from his throat.

“You seem to know a lot about it, detective.  They’ve certainly been sharing.”

“It’s my job to get as full a picture as possible of the situation I’m dealing with.”  It was the most he’d managed to sound like Alec in a while; timely, the Doctor supposed, after saying so much that was personal.

“Hmm.”

“Why did you do it?”  The question meant everything to the Doctor, but he delivered it as he thought Alec would, with exasperation, faced with a crime he couldn’t comprehend the motivation for.  “If she was so special to you?  If the genuineness was so important, why did you…” – he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to say it, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself – “…why did you rape her?”   

The man’s arms were crossed in front of him now, although he was just as stiff as before, tension visible in every muscle.

“Because she changed her mind.  And I will have what I want.”  The coldness was back, although the honesty of the answer still surprised the Doctor.  He didn’t deny that that was what he had done. 

“You destroyed her.”

It was too much.  Too far.  He’d pushed Kilgrave far enough to snap.

“You will not speak.”

That was an order and the Doctor felt a chill pass through his body as he heard it.  Aside from those that might compel him to harm himself or others, this was one of the worst he could receive.  It was broad and simple and without the constraints of Kilgrave’s power enforcing it, it was going to be almost impossible to follow. 

*

Kilgrave didn’t want to see ‘Alec’ after their conversation.  He banished him to the kitchen, and the Doctor was grateful actually, his mind needing to process everything that had been said.  He sat on the floor where he’d been earlier, knees drawn up to his chest, head in his hands. 

‘Doctor?’

‘Don’t.’

‘What happened?  You were so… there were so many emotions… what did he do?’  Crowley sounded very worried.

‘We had a discussion.’

‘What?!  Do you realise how dangerous that is?!’

‘I’m not allowed to talk anymore,’ the Doctor admitted.

‘We need to get you out of there as soon as possible,’ Crowley asserted very firmly.

‘I need to get the pendant, and then I can try to get him somewhere away from other people…’  He just needed to remain focused on his task; nothing could sway him from that.  It was important.

‘You can’t even speak to him now, there’s no point pursuing that.  Just get the pendant and then we’ll get you out.  He’s going to catch you out and then he’ll be angry and we’ll have all kinds of trouble to deal with.’

The Doctor wiped away a tear that was annoyingly running down his face.

‘He was talking about her.’

He felt Crowley’s sympathy surrounding him like a hug.

‘It made you angry?’

‘Yeah.  No.  A bit.  I wanted to understand.  I don’t get it, Crowley; he talks like she means something to him but then I know what he did to her.  And he’s casting doubt on my love.  It’s so unfair, Crowley.  Uugghh…’  He groaned.  ‘I wish I’d told her.’

‘She knows.  And you will tell her.  We will end this and free her from him, and then you will look into her eyes and you will tell her.  It will be the most wonderful moment.  You’ll kiss her.  And all of this will fall away because it won’t hurt you anymore.  You or her.’

The tears were flowing now.  His hands were wet and as he rubbed at his cheeks it only succeeded in making both hands and face wetter.

‘She’s yours, Crowley.  And yet you can welcome me in, and you can say all that, like it’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened.’

‘Because it is.  Love is the most extraordinary thing, and it only grows bigger as we share it.’

‘How you ever passed as a demon, I’ll never know.’  There was amusement in the Doctor’s internal voice, a hint of laughter.  He’d said it before, but Crowley never failed to make him think it.

‘I’m not sure I ever did.’

‘If he felt the same, none of this would have happened.’

‘He never learned to share.  And he’s too angry at the world.’

*

Kilgrave went to bed eventually, telling ‘Alec’ to remain in the kitchen until morning.  The Doctor waited, hearing the man moving about upstairs as he prepared for sleep, then the silence that descended like a thick blanket on the whole cottage when he did so. 

A bit longer, to be sure, then he disobeyed his instruction and crept upstairs, carefully, attempting to remain as quiet as possible, very aware of his hearts thudding in his chest.  There was no immediate danger to him in being caught, since he couldn’t be controlled, and he could rely on his own strength to overpower his human doppelgänger, but the danger to others was immense.  Kilgrave’s anger was notoriously deadly, and he would be furious if he realised he’d been duped. 

The Doctor recalled that the door to the bedroom had a creak, and decided it was better to risk the quiet hum of his sonic in preference to the sharp, high-pitched noise the door would emit.  Reaching into the secret pocket on his suit, he wrapped his fingers around the screwdriver, feeling instant reassurance at the familiar feel of it in his grip. 

Adjusting to the correct setting, he pointed the sonic at the door’s hinges and set it to work, cringing at the sound but knowing this was the safer option.  After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the task was complete and he could push the door open silently, entering the bedroom where Kilgrave was sleeping. 

A small amount of light from the moon outside filtered through the thin curtains, besides which, a Time Lord’s eyes were able to make out the details of the room better than a human could.  He looked around, locating Kilgrave’s suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe, and with an anxious glance at the bed where the man was asleep, he stepped closer to his target. 

As he observed the human, so vulnerable in his sleep, tucked beneath the sheets, it struck him again, as it had before he entered the Wilson’s house, that he could simply kill him.  It would be only too easy.  Alone in the room, with Kilgrave’s power impotent against him, he could end this.  But he baulked at the idea, never able to bring himself to purposefully kill, or at least unable to do so without balancing the books against the very existence of the universe.  And even then, it had almost destroyed him. 

Reaching the wardrobe, he found the pocket that Kilgrave had drawn the pendant from earlier, wriggling his hand inside. 

Not there.

Shit.  He’d not considered that Kilgrave might move it during the night. 

‘It’s not in the pocket,’ he told Crowley. 

‘Is there somewhere else? Another pocket?  Somewhere closer to him?  Bedside table?  Or maybe a safe?’

Searching through the other pockets, the Doctor simultaneously scanned the room with his keen eyes, and noticed a small safe on the floor next to the bedside table on the side of the bed occupied by Kilgrave.  His hands stilled when he saw it.

‘Safe.’

‘Key, code, or bio-scan?’

He moved closer and inspected the object more closely. 

‘Code.’

‘Fuck.  We might have fooled the bio-scan, and a key can be stolen.  The code is more difficult.’

‘I’m quite good at working them out.’

‘He’s clever.  He’ll have avoided all the usual things idiots do.  No birthdays or anniversaries.  I’m certain of it.’

Crouching down next to the safe, the Doctor studied it carefully, then turned his gaze on its owner, running his eyes over the eerily familiar features. 

‘The sonic can open it.  But it would take at least a few seconds and it would almost certainly wake him.’

‘I could come and…’

‘I can make him sleep.  And I don’t have to go too deep to do that.  Just the surface, really.’

He was thinking ‘out loud’ inside his mind, actively thinking the words and letting Crowley hear them, in an attempt to persuade himself that this was a good idea.  It was certainly better than trying to locate the code inside Kilgrave’s mind, although it still meant touching him, and even if just a little bit, communing with his consciousness.  The Doctor felt nervous about that, knowing the experience Crowley had had when getting too close to this man’s mind.

‘Be careful, Doctor.’

He nodded, even though that was stupid because Crowley couldn’t see him.  Then, kneeling beside the bed, he took a deep breath, wriggling his arms a little to try and relax them so that he’d be in control when he reached across to the pillow. 

‘What does he feel like, Crowley?’ he enquired hesitantly.

‘Layers and layers of anger and hate and fear.  It’s toxic, Doctor.  And he’s strong, very strong.’

The Doctor nodded again, lifting his arms and rising onto his knees so he could reach Kilgrave’s head.  After another deep breath, he stretched his arms out, extending the index and middle finger of each hand and resting them lightly against the man’s temples.  Kilgrave stirred slightly but the strength of the Doctor’s fingers maintained the connection and he pushed tentatively with his telepathy, touching against his doppelgänger’s consciousness. 

The power of Kilgrave hit him immediately; a strength that made it harder to establish a contact with this mind that was like no other he’d ever felt.  It was dark and thick, almost like trying to find his way through a swamp in foggy weather, which from the descriptions he’d heard of what Kilgrave’s power did to a human mind, was not really a surprise to him, although the intensity still took his breath. 

He focused on the task at hand.  All he needed to do was make the man sleep, the depth of a Time Lord-willed slumber so much greater and therefore safer than natural sleep, so easily disturbed by the buzz and flash of the sonic.  It required a coaxing action, almost like the Doctor’s mind caressing the outer edges of the other, lulling it gently. 

Grasping Kilgrave’s mind was difficult though.  It repelled the Doctor’s touch, spitting a rageful hate back at him, even while it shivered with a terrible fear of the contact.  It was exactly like trying to handle an abused and terrified animal, and it made the Time Lord’s mind flinch back, not wanting to touch. 

Forcing himself to persevere, the Doctor’s mind slipped a little deeper towards that of the other, the frightened animal squirming within his grasp and necessitating a firmer grip.  He gasped, feeling more of the choking, toxic mass surrounding him and hating it, hating the way it fought back against him and tried to gain a hold on his mind with the tendrils of its sticky, grasping power. 

‘Doctor, be careful!’

Crowley could feel it of course, and knew what the Doctor was experiencing, a new thing for him too, despite his experience of both minds, because the way their powers worked was so different; Crowley’s power dominating while the Time Lord’s telepathy was more of a communing and meeting of minds.  It made it far more dangerous for the Doctor to interact with Kilgrave’s consciousness and was an effect they’d not really considered. 

Gritting his teeth and asserting all of his concentration, the Doctor found his grip and tightened his hold, very aware of the poisonous hatred trickling back into his own mind from the one he was holding.  It made him want to squeeze and clench and drain the life from it, feel it weaken and fade beneath the power of his own fury, but the associated fear held him back, that all-consuming terror that lay beneath Kilgrave’s anger weakening his resolve and making him simultaneously want to loosen his hold.  It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain it and keep his grip light, coaxing, caressing with a lullaby gentleness, easing the other mind into a deep, deep sleep. 

By the time it was done and he could let go, he was gasping, his head aching and his body feeling weak.  Kilgrave’s mind had fought him every step of the way.

‘Doctor?’

‘It’s done.  I can…’  He sank back onto the floor, head spinning, struggling to rid itself of the treacly thick presence of Kilgrave’s power.  ‘That’s what she felt… in her head.  Oh…’

‘Doctor, focus.  The safe.’

‘Yes.  Yeah.’

Dragging his gaze to the safe, he pulled his body towards it, fighting against the exhaustion that seemed to weigh heavy.  With the fog in his mind, it took longer than it should to set the sonic to the correct setting, but he eventually pointed it at the lock, finding something calming in the familiar buzz that seemed to clear his thoughts a little. 

An agonisingly slow twenty seconds ticked by before the lock clicked open, but it finally did, and reaching across, the Doctor pulled the door open and peered inside, finding the pendant sat there, at the centre of the little pool formed by its chain. 

‘It’s here,’ he informed Crowley, relief flooding his body.  Retrieving the fake from his pocket, he swapped them, tightening his fingers around the real pendant and feeling the thrill of success shake off some of the lingering fear that Kilgrave’s consciousness had transmitted to him.  He closed the safe, hearing the satisfying click of the lock. 

Slipping the pendant into his pocket, he took a last look at Kilgrave’s sleeping form, so relaxed and almost innocent, a perfect contrast to the intense pressure and torment of his mind.  The tiniest flicker of a dangerous empathy made itself felt in the Doctor’s hearts; what a life, to exist in that mind, trapped by his own power, cut off from all the joy and pleasure of communion with others by the relentless, paralysing paranoia of never knowing if their interactions were real.  It had driven the man to a level of rage and hatred that the Doctor could barely comprehend.  Perhaps the closest thing he’d ever encountered was a Dalek, driven solely by the need to destroy anything that wasn’t itself. 

Drawing his gaze away, he felt the weight of Kilgrave’s actions settle on him anew.  Crowley had described this to him, the pity that had prevented him killing the man.  The demon had been deep into Kilgrave’s mind and found the frightened little boy beneath it all, the boy who’d woken up one day and found he possessed a god-like power to control the minds of everyone around him, who’d never had the opportunity to complete his education as a human, to learn about emotions and empathy, to understand how to exist in a world that could be devastatingly cruel.  The Time Lord could comprehend how that might drive a person to hate, to lash out and return the world’s perceived cruelty with a ten-fold retaliation.  It didn’t make it ok to choose that path though, and there were too many things that this man had chosen to do that were unforgiveable.  Unfixable and unforgiveable were two things the Doctor didn’t typically believe a person was capable of being.  But this man was both.

He left the room, passing to the back of the house where the bathroom was.  Crowley was waiting outside as they’d arranged during their discussions earlier in the evening, out of the way of the guards in front, and the Doctor climbed up onto the edge of the bath to reach the high window, which he opened, dropping the pendant down to the demon.

‘You ok?’ Crowley asked as he caught it.

‘I’ll be fine.  I’m always fine.’

‘I know better than most how much you lie when you say that.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

Crowley visibly sighed and the Doctor sensed his frustration.

‘I best get back to the kitchen,’ the Time Lord continued, seeing Crowley nod.  ‘See you later.’

‘Stay safe.’

Crowley began to retreat out of the garden, returning to a safer distance, while the Doctor closed the window, bending slightly as he prepared to climb down as quietly as possible.  As he shifted his weight though, his foot slipped, Alec’s smart shoes lacking the grip he was used to, and he fell with a loud thud onto the tiled floor, knee and elbow taking the force of the impact.  He couldn’t prevent the grunt of pain that accompanied the crash, and the loud clatter as he kicked over the stand for the toilet brush. 

He froze, the subsequent silence deafening. 

‘Doctor?!’  Crowley was immediately alert, his keen ears probably picking up the sound, and his mind conscious of the Doctor’s pain and panic. 

Kilgrave should sleep through it.  By the Doctor’s calculations, he should have been sent into a deep sleep that would last for the remainder of the night.  The guards might hear it… but he had no idea what their orders were, whether sounds from inside the house would trigger them… probably not…

Moving gingerly, concerned about making further noise and gritting his teeth against the pain shooting through his left arm and leg, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position.

‘Doctor?’

‘I’m ok.  Fell off the bath.  I’m fine.’  Somehow his inner voice was groaning.

‘You don’t feel fine.’

‘Don’t think anything’s broken.’  He tried to sound relaxed, and pushed down the pain as much as he could so that Crowley wouldn’t feel it. 

‘Ok.  Breathe.  Just breathe and you’ll be ok.  Take a minute to steady yourself.’

‘Crowley… I’m fine.  Had a lot worse.  Stop worrying.’

‘How deep is that sleep you gave him?’  The demon sounded worried.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that.  More than enough to keep him…’

A door slammed into the wall on the other side of the landing, jolting the Doctor out of his thoughts and returning his focus to the reality of his situation. 

“Detective!”

‘Shit.’

Kilgrave’s voice was furious and dangerously edged with a confusion that boded ill for the Doctor’s continued ability to persuade him that he was subject to his power.    

“Detective, come here!”

The Doctor quickly considered his options.  The order was a direct one and he should comply, but that would mean revealing that he’d been in the bathroom rather than the kitchen where he should have been…  Although…

Scrambling awkwardly to his feet, groaning at the throbbing pain in his knee, he stepped towards the door.  Taking a deep breath, he opened it and moved out onto the landing where Kilgrave blinked at him a couple of times, baffled. 

“Why aren’t you in the kitchen?”

‘It’s 2am.”

“And?”

“I needed the loo.  And you said to stay there until morning.  It’s morning now.”  Alec would be this clever, right?

Kilgrave rolled his eyes.  But then he paused and fixed the Doctor with an icy, dagger-sharp glare. 

“I also told you that you wouldn’t speak,” he said coldly.  “There was no time limit on that and it’s been an awful lot less than 24 hours…”

Shit.

Chapter Text

“I think I should probably go to bed.”  Zee was stifling a yawn as she spoke, hands still clasped around the mug containing the remnants of her hot chocolate, and Jack smiled at her across the table.  They were in the kitchen on the Tardis, where they’d had dinner and then remained chatting afterwards.

“In your room here or in your room in the cottage?” he enquired.

“Oh…”  Her face lit up at the idea of spending the night onboard, in her familiar comfy bed, surrounded by the warm embrace of the ship.  The Doctor wasn’t here… she could…  But this was also the place Alec had been working.  And she shouldn’t be selfish…  “In the cottage,” she answered firmly, sipping the dregs from her mug.  Jack disguised his surprise as much as he could but she clearly still caught it.  “So Alec can have somewhere to go,” she added in explanation.

Jack nodded.  Of course, she’d put Alec’s need first.  Not only because she was the most generous person he’d ever met, but also because she felt an extra requirement to show kindness to Alec specifically.  He knew that she felt terrible for the way she’d responded to him when he’d only been trying to help, even though it wasn’t her fault. 

“Right.  Come on then, let’s get you upstairs.  I’ll make sure Alec stays out of the way while you go up.” 

He stood, moving around the table, looping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead, and they walked through the corridors of the ship together until they made it up to the console room where Jack left her while he checked the coast was clear; no stray detectives making tea in the kitchen. 

Once he’d ensured it was safe, he returned to fetch Zee, finding her leaning against the console, caressing the edge slowly and pressing her key to her lips.  She looked so content, eyes closed, smiling against the unassuming piece of metal, and as he watched, he felt an echo of the love between the woman and the ship passing through his own mind like the gentle flutter of the breeze on a warm summer’s day.   

Jack knew that there was a deep connection between the Doctor’s two favourite females, but this was the first time the Tardis had allowed him to feel it, and he smiled.  His partner sometimes got a little pouty, more jealous of this relationship than any of the others in their group, and that amused Jack, as did his thoughts as he tried to imagine how exactly the human and the spaceship might consummate their feelings…  

The sensation of a harsh prod to his head startled him, and he realised the Tardis was reprimanding him for those thoughts, which she was obviously very aware of.  Rubbing his head, he stepped closer, mentally apologising, until he arrived next to Zee and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you two need some time alone?” he asked quietly. 

Zee dropped the key, still smiling a little dreamily. 

“I’m ready,” she assured him, taking his hand into her own and kissing the back of it.  With her other hand, she gave the console a last, lingering stroke, and Jack felt the pleasure of the ship’s response, making him gasp at the tangibility of it.  Zee giggled softly.  “You can feel it too?” she questioned teasingly.

“Oh, she’s letting me feel it, alright…  Maybe we should stay…”  There was a flicker of Captain Jack Harkness in his tone, the character he projected rather than the slightly softer Jack that Zee knew was the real one.  She recognised that he was keeping his worries buried and pretending to be ok while he was with her.    

“Hmm…  That would really go down well, the three of us enjoying ourselves in his absence…” she responded drily, tugging on his hand and leading him closer to the door. 

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, “You’re right.  Let’s get you to bed.”

*

Once Jack had settled Zee to sleep and returned to the living room, Alec took the opportunity to go back to his office onboard the Tardis.  Ellie had kept him informed of developments with both Mrs Jarvis and Gareth, and had asked if he could keep an eye on the harbour just in case.  He was tired, but he’d managed to grab some sleep the previous night after his long chat with Mark, and was stubbornly determined to prevent harm coming to any of Kilgrave’s victims, so he dutifully took his position at his desk and prepared for a long vigil. 

After a few minutes, he found that a large mug of tea and a plate of thickly buttered toast had materialised on the desk next to him.  Initially, he blinked at them in confusion, but given his experiences over the past day and a half, he eventually decided that their sudden appearance was fairly unremarkable, and bit into the toast, enjoying the thick, melted butter sliding down his throat. 

He knew that Aziraphale had escorted Ellie home, so she could see her family and catch up on some sleep, and Alec had himself provided the angel with a series of addresses so that he could then check on Kate Thompson, on the Wilsons, on the woman who ran the fish and chip hut Kilgrave frequented, and on Mrs Jarvis in her hospital bed.  Crowley was still on the east cliff, remaining close to the Doctor who had a plan to retrieve the pendant overnight, a project that Alec was very keen should be successful, because then Ellie could wear it, and it would keep her safe as she went about her work.  He’d been worrying about her constantly, despite her being accompanied by Aziraphale.

And back in the cottage, Mark was safe.  Alec had spent a quite enjoyable evening with the paramedic.  Jack had brought them some dinner, two plates of the pasta in a chunky vegetable sauce that he’d made for himself and Zee, along with a bottle of wine.  That had been unnecessary, and Alec was still never quite sure he should be drinking alcohol despite his improved health, but it was a crisp white, not too heavy, and he’d allowed Mark to pour him a glass.  The man had smiled in a definitely flirtatious manner as he’d passed it to him.

“Told you I’d get you to have that drink with me eventually, detective,” he’d teased, “And what a wonderful bonus, dinner too.”

He’d blushed at those words, or possibly more at the suggestion in them.  They’d been thrown into this scenario purely by circumstance, but Mark had made it sound like a date, and it wasn’t a date.  For starters, Mark was a man, and Alec didn’t date men.  He didn’t date anyone really, but when he did go on a date, and he had, in the past, been known to do that, it certainly wasn’t ever with a man.  Not that there was anything wrong with men dating each other.  It was just not something Alec was interested in.

Their not-a-date dinner had been lovely though.  Jack was a good cook so the food was delicious and the one glass of wine he’d allowed himself (perhaps Mark had topped it up a couple of times, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to that…), had been both pleasant to drink and given just the faintest softness to the edges of everything. 

Also, Mark really was good company.  He talked easily and had a seemingly endless supply of amusing anecdotes to share about his job; anecdotes that Alec could understand and appreciate and respond to with his own, because there was certainly overlap in their experiences responding to emergencies.  He was funny and smart and had a voice that was easy to listen to, deep and resonant and with a gentle gravel that absolutely did not cause the shiver that Alec occasionally felt passing down his spine at points throughout the evening.

The flirting had continued though, and Alec didn’t actually have much idea how to respond to that, especially knowing that in the circumstances it was definitely not advisable to be too decisive in his rejection.  They needed to keep Mark here to ensure his continued safety, so Alec couldn’t risk hurting his feelings and making him want to leave, and therefore he’d allowed it, purely for practical reasons.  He’d allowed the suggestive comments, and he’d allowed the little lean of Mark’s body towards his, and the way the man had positioned his arm behind Alec as they sat next to each other on the sofa (close, because how else were they supposed to share the fluffy herb focaccia that Jack had provided?), and the teasing smiles that made his stomach squirm uncomfortably, because that’s what it was – uncomfortable.  Definitely not the kind of squirm that people described as ‘butterflies’.  That was different, and Alec knew the difference, obviously. 

He'd been relieved when Jack had popped his head around the door and requested that they remain in the living room for a few minutes while he took Zee up to bed though.  The presence of another person, even briefly, seemed to release some of the intensity in the room, allowing him to breathe a bit more freely.  And then Ellie had called which had been a useful distraction.

He sighed as he sipped his tea, eyes remaining glued to the screen in front of him.  Maybe if the Doctor succeeded in taking the pendant, they could get him out of there, and then Alec would be able to leave the cottage and do something, more than just watching CCTV and compiling evidence.  It was so frustrating to see everyone else out there while he was stuck in here, and he understood it, but that didn’t make it better.  It was just like when he’d been ill and they’d stuck him behind a desk, teaching.  He shuddered at the memory. 

No.  The work he was doing now was important.  It was just… what if they missed something?  Despite his reputation, he was a good detective, and Ellie was brilliant of course, but… what if they missed something? 

*

“Did you enjoy your evening with Alec?” Jack enquired, slouching in the chair by the window and smiling over at Mark who was still on the sofa. 

Mark stared at him, brows knitted, frowning slightly.

“Yes…” he replied uncertainly, almost making the answer a question. 

Jack sat up straighter, frowning himself now, sensing the change in the man.  He glanced down at his wrist, checking the time and fitting it into the timeline in his mind.  Mark had been here for almost twenty four hours, which meant it was longer than that since he’d last spoken with Kilgrave.  That might make things a little more challenging…

“Why am I here?” Mark asked, looking around the room anxiously.  “I’m not actually sure anybody has really explained to me where ‘here’ even is…”

“This is a holiday cottage, Mark, up on the west cliff.  You know the people who are staying here, Aziraphale and Crowley… and Zee…”

“Yes.  They’re the people from the pier.  I know who they are, but why am I here?”

Aziraphale had instructed Jack to tell Mark as little as possible but as much as was necessary to keep him here.  Begin tentatively.  Offer more only if it is needed.

“You’re an important witness.  DI Hardy needed to speak with you.”

“Here?”  Mark was very unconvinced.

“He has to be here.  Can’t leave.  So, you had to come to him.”

The knot in Mark’s forehead tightened, eyebrows forming a deep ‘V’.

“But I’ve been here…” – he thought about it – “since last night!”  The realisation appeared to hit him suddenly and his mouth fell open. He sat up straight, hands clutching the edge of the sofa cushion.  “Why have I been here all day?  Why wouldn’t I leave?  I should have been at work!”  His hands ran over his clothes, obviously searching for his phone.  Shit. 

With a sigh, Jack decided more was absolutely going to be needed.

“You won’t find it,” he said resignedly. 

“What?”  Mark looked up at him, eyes full of suspicion.

“Your phone.  It isn’t here.  Aziraphale has it.”

“Why…?  Why the fuck does he have my phone!?”  Mark jumped up from the sofa, increasingly alarmed now, eyebrows having shifted high onto his forehead, mouth still hanging open.  Jack stood too, hands out placatingly, trying to radiate as much calm as he could.

“Mark.  I’m going to need you to remain calm.  I can’t tell you all the details because there’s an active police investigation.”  Sort of.  “Can you look at me?”

Mark complied with the request, suspicion and confusion in his blue eyes. 

“Thank you,” Jack continued.  “There’s a dangerous criminal in Broadchurch and we’re trying to do something about that, but in the meantime, you’re a valuable witness.  You’re here so we can keep you safe.”

“I didn’t go to work…”

“The detective let them know.  Police business, you couldn’t make it in.”

“Fuck…” 

Mark sank back onto the sofa, hands on his knees, clearly bewildered.  Jack sat next to him, placing his own hand reassuringly over Mark’s.

“Yeah.  I’ll stay with you.  It’s all going to be ok.”  He wished he sounded more convincing. 

After a few minutes, Mark shifted again, his expression remaining tight.

“Why didn’t I question it before?  I was here this whole time but I didn’t…”

“Try not to worry about that.”

*

Buzz!

The vibration on his wrist woke Jack suddenly, startling him upright, blinking as he looked around the room, and taking a couple of seconds to remember where he was. 

It woke Mark too, since Jack’s arm had been pressed between their bodies on the sofa, Jack having slipped into leaning against the other man as they slept. 

“What was that?” Mark exclaimed, sleep blurring the edges of the alarm in his voice.

“Message,” Jack replied, his own consciousness crisper, the ability to reorient himself speedily a hangover from his various periods in military environments.  Glancing down at his wrist, he saw a message from Crowley to the group chat.

Crowley: Need u angel.  Urgent.  K aware no control.  Backup needed.

Staring at the message, Jack made sense of it, quickly realising that it being sent to the group chat was a mistake; it had certainly been meant only for Aziraphale.  But the content…

Shit!

He was pleased the message had somehow made its way to the wrong place; without that error, he wouldn’t know… his Doctor…

Jumping up decisively, he ran to the door, not even hesitating for a second to think about the consequences of his actions, the reason why such a message would have been kept from him in the first place.

“Where are you going?  Is something wrong?  What should I do?”  The volley of questions came from Mark, who had also risen from the sofa and was staring at Jack, eyes wide and worried.  Jack paused only briefly, barely listening.

“I have to go…  You just need to stay here.  Do not leave this room.”

He pulled open the door and ran out into the hallway.  Mark followed him as far as the living room door, standing in the doorway and watching, clearly frightened now.

“Can I do anything?  I don’t know…  Should I tell DI Hardy?”

“Do not leave that room!” Jack growled back at him as he opened the front door and almost threw himself through it, slamming it shut behind him. 

*

Mark remained where he was, staring at the front door of the cottage, trying to make sense of anything that had happened over the past day and a half. 

The last thing that he really understood was attending the emergency on the pier and taking care of Zee.  After that… things became weird.  There was the strange man who’d taken him to the apartment, and the stranger man he’d met there, the one who looked like DI Hardy.  And Mark had just stayed there, doing as he was told.  He’d gone to the pub, not a pub he particularly frequented, and certainly not on a work night, met the detective and spoken with him (and he blushed at that – he’d flirted with the DI, somehow a little more forward than he’d usually be with a man he barely knew and was pretty sure was straight).  The man who looked like Hardy had visited him at home, and then Aziraphale, the blond man from the pier, had done the same, and Mark certainly didn’t recall giving his address out to everybody, only to the detective who’d requested his details.  Then he’d come here with Aziraphale… but why? 

None of it made any sense!  Jack had said he’d needed to come here to be interviewed by the detective, and Aziraphale had also mentioned Hardy, but why had he fetched him?  And he’d stayed here, for almost a full twenty four hours before he’d started to question anything… and even now, he was still here.  Why was he here? 

Despite Jack’s insistence that he should remain in the living room, he looked around the hallway.  There were the narrow stairs leading to the upper floor where he’d slept the previous night.  Presumably Zee was asleep up there now in the master bedroom.  Opposite him, there was the door to the dining room where he’d sat with Aziraphale and Jack earlier, and to his right, the door that must lead to the kitchen, which was where Hardy was…

There was no real reason that he should listen to Jack.  He wasn’t even sure who Jack was, and although he’d been friendly enough, he was gone now.  And the detective could probably tell him what was going on…

Moving into the hallway, Mark covered the distance to the kitchen door in a few steps, hesitating in front of it, wondering whether he should knock, and eventually deciding to do so, instinctive politeness kicking in.  When there was no response, he knocked again a bit more firmly.  Still nothing, so pushing the door gently, he stepped into the room.

“What the fuck…”

There was no detective in the kitchen, but in the centre of the small room, dominating the space, there was a large blue box – a Police Box – retro, the kind of thing he’d only ever seen on television.  One of its doors was slightly ajar, not enough to really see inside, but enough to act as an invitation... 

Perhaps Hardy was in the dining room.  Mark was sure he’d said he was going to the kitchen, but he clearly wasn’t here.

Something was drawing him towards the Police Box though.  Curiosity, he supposed, at seeing something like this in real life rather than a period drama, especially seeing it in such an unexpected location; indoors, for starters.  Moving towards it, he became aware of a slight glow emerging from the crack where the door wasn’t quite closed, and his intrigue was piqued further.  He reached out and pushed against the door, feeling it swing back unresistingly.

Mark blinked.

To suggest that what he was looking at was not what he was expecting to be looking at would be a significant understatement.  Candidate for understatement of the century, actually.  Or any century, most likely.   

Ok.  Probably just the effect of well-placed images and mirrors…  He moved closer and peered inside, resting his hand against the doorframe to steady himself.  Still looked real… three-dimensional… solid…  Placing his foot inside, he stepped over the threshold, stretching his free hand out in front of him and moving it around to test to realness of the space.  Another step forward, still reaching out, still not hitting the wall.  Something should look off by now.  Something about the angles and the light should definitely give the game away…

His hand still refused to impact upon the walls that should be there, even as he took another two steps.  He should definitely have hit them by now.  Blinking slowly, he turned a full three-sixty.  As he turned, he could see the kitchen outside the door, just as it was, looking perfectly normal, and then the space of the room he appeared to be in.  Far, far larger than it had any right to be by even the most basic, essential laws of physics. 

Turning again, he walked back out into the kitchen, circled the outside of the box, dragging his hand along its surface, feeling it solid beneath his palm, and then re-entered through the door.

“Bigger on the inside…” he murmured in disbelief.

And this time, he actually looked at the detail of the space.

It was broadly circular, which clearly made no sense.  And it looked half-finished, like a building site abandoned halfway through.  He was stood on a walkway made from sheets of metal grille that led towards a central platform of the same material, between curving, almost organic columns made of something, he couldn’t immediately place what.  Beneath his feet and particularly beneath the platform there was evidence of machinery, and there were wires tangled everywhere, thick cables dangling from the ceiling, all leading him towards a central pillar of blue-green light, surrounded by what appeared to be a mechanical console of some kind. 

He moved towards it, still curious, notwithstanding his inability to actually comprehend anything that he was looking at.  There was a soft hum emanating from the core of the space, from the depths of the machinery at the centre, the sound almost soothing, calming his racing mind like a lullaby. 

As he reached the platform, he noticed a coat tossed over the column to his right, nestled at a spot where it branched into two parts; a long, tan trench coat.  Looking to the corresponding column on the opposite side of the walkway, he saw another, navy blue this time, of thicker material, but a long trench coat again.  He wondered who they belonged to… Aziraphale and Crowley perhaps?  This was their holiday cottage, after all.  Although the coats didn’t really fit their aesthetic.  And there wasn’t a third, for Zee.

Continuing, he slowly approached the pillar in the centre, studying the complex arrangement of… things, on the… console-thing.  Buttons, levers, dials…  The only frame of reference Mark could discover in his mind was from Sci-Fi shows on TV: it looked like the banks of controls you always got in spaceships.  So far as his brain could comprehend it, this was the operational console of a spaceship.  Which was ridiculous, obviously. 

He was circling the platform, still gazing around him in an attempt to find something he could hold onto, something that might make it make sense, something he could recognise and use to anchor himself (there was a sofa, but even that seemed out of place in context…), when movement caught his eye across the room.  There were some steps leading down from the platform, deeper into the space, implying that it was even larger than it seemed. He couldn’t make out where they went, but he could quite clearly see DI Hardy frozen halfway up them, hand on the railing, mouth wide open in astonishment.

“Wh… what are you… you can’t be here!” the detective stuttered out.

“I was looking for you,” Mark returned. 

“Me?”

“What is this?  Where are we?”

Hardy spluttered, coughed, attempted to clear his throat, and then fixed his mouth into a frown, humming disapprovingly.  He stared at Mark. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.  Where’s Jack?” he asked eventually, eyes flicking briefly to the open door to the kitchen but still not moving from his spot on the stairs. 

“He left.”

“Left?”

“He got a message on his… smartwatch?  His…” – he gesticulated in a random fashion at his wrist – “his wrist thingy…  And he left.  He didn’t explain.”

“Left the cottage?”

Mark nodded.

“But he’s not supposed to… SHIT!” Hardy exclaimed, shaking his head, hands on his hips now, exasperation on his face.  “What the hell’s happened?!”

“Oh,” Mark replied, face falling into a deeper frown than before.  “I was hoping you could help with that.”  He glanced around the room again, groaning.  “Or… well, any of it, really.”  The utter confusion in his tone must have been obvious, because the detective’s own furious bafflement softened and he fixed a sympathetic expression on Mark.

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”  He finally ascended the last few steps onto the platform and approached Mark, gesturing to the sofa he’d passed earlier.  They both sat down, and Alec gazed at Mark curiously.  “What do you know?” he questioned eventually, and Mark let out a long exhale, which effectively communicated the sum total of his understanding.

*

Buzz!

Zee stirred, moaning against her pillow, consciousness tickling at her mind.  She’d gone to sleep with her phone right beside her, dimly aware that she wouldn’t be kept up to date on what was happening outside the cottage, but nevertheless wishing to ensure that she wouldn’t miss anything should there be a message.  As she blinked her eyes open, she felt an anguished tumble of butterflies fluttering haphazardly in her belly, suddenly worrying, now she had a message, that it might not be a good thing.

She read Crowley’s text several times over, sitting bolt upright, completely awake, after the second reading. 

“I’m not supposed to see this,” she muttered aloud, and indeed, after a minute or so, the message disappeared, its contents erased from the group chat.  “Trouble…” she mused, “They’re in trouble...”

Before she could stop to think about that, to really consider what it might mean or what danger there was, she was already out of bed, turning on the lamp, and retrieving her clothes from the chair, pulling on her jeans. 

They’re in trouble.  The Doctor… he’s with him… he’s not safe.  All my fault, it’s all my fault...  He’s going to hurt him, and he’s only there because of me...  And Crowley’s there… and Aziraphale.

A door slammed downstairs and she moved instantly to the window, looking out into the darkness.  She could see a figure hurriedly passing through the gate, dark hair, braces over his shirt… Jack.  No!  Jack was human… Aziraphale had reassured her that the Doctor couldn’t be controlled, but Jack could.

As she began to panic, mind spiralling with fear for her friends, she fumbled and struggled with her clothes.  In her eagerness to get her hoodie over her head, she tangled herself in the arms and groaned with frustration as she fought to free herself.  She was losing precious time! 

There wasn’t a plan.  There wasn’t a logical or sensible thought in her mind.  Just knowledge that her boys were in danger and it was all because of her and she had to do something.  She had to find them. 

Who else was in the house?

Mark was still here.  And Alec, although he was probably in his office on the Tardis.  Would Mark try to stop her?  It seemed likely.  He would know enough, wouldn’t he? 

So, how could she…?

Guest bedroom!  The window was above the little wooden hut for the bins.  Perfect!

Only… her trainers were downstairs by the front door.  Hmm… she would just have to make an excuse if Mark appeared, say she was coming down for a glass of water or something. 

Quietly opening the bedroom door, Zee made her way to the top of the stairs.  They creaked, she knew, so gently, carefully, she made her way down the very edge, trying to keep away from the creaky spots.  Down, across to the little shoe storage bench by the front door, she watched the open living room door as she grabbed her trainers, and then turned back to ascend the stairs once more.

The kitchen door was also open, and through it she could see the also open door of the Tardis; Alec was where she thought he was, then.  Strange that the kitchen door was open though…  She was fairly sure they were keeping the ship hidden from Mark, not telling him about all the angel and demon and alien and mind control stuff…  Shaking off any questions, she concentrated on her task, quickly and quietly returning to the first floor.

Only once she was in the guest bedroom did she pause, sitting on the edge of the bed while she put on her trainers.  She held her hand out in front of her, watching it shake, suddenly aware of her own fear and the fact that it was adrenaline that was pushing her on.  Her bracelet hung on her wrist, outside the cuff of her hoodie, its charms giving off a faint glow in the semi-darkness, the buzz of its various magical and time vortex elements, that she barely ever noticed consciously these days, more obvious as she focused her attention on it.  Always, it represented the love that they had for her, her boys, and now, as it had been before during dark times, it was a comfort and a companion.  She tucked it beneath her clothes, out of sight, the charms pressed against her skin so that she could feel the reassuring warmth and tingle.      

Taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths, slowly inhaling and exhaling, she asserted some control over herself. 

She shouldn’t do this.  She should stay where she was, where it was safe, where he couldn’t get to her.

But… the Doctor.  Crowley was with him, but she’d seen what her demon’s encounter with him had done.  Crowley had never quite been the same since.  And Aziraphale, her angel, her sweet, sweet angel.  She’d seen his face, when he’d first returned after their encounter with… no, she couldn’t let them face him again.  And Jack was out there.  Jack could be controlled.  That wasn’t happening.  This wasn’t happening.  She couldn’t just sit here and let it…

Crossing to the window, she shoved the pane upwards, thankful for traditional sash windows; perfect for escaping.  Leaning out, she saw the felt roof on the structure below.  It would take her weight, wouldn’t it? 

Sitting on the windowsill, she swung her legs over to the outside and took another breath. 

The Doctor had put himself in this danger for her.  She had to do the same for him. 

She lowered herself carefully, grateful for the old cottage’s low ceilings.  A short drop, and she was stood on the roof of the hut.  Another, and she was on the ground.  Still safe, in the garden…  Hesitating briefly with her hand on the gate, she took another breath before pushing it firmly open and stepping through it. 

Then she realised that she had no idea where she needed to go. 

Towards the town?  That was where she’d be most likely to run into someone, to find information, wasn’t it?  There was someone watching the path at the front though… so perhaps via the back roads.  Setting off into the dark of the night, she moved quickly down the narrow lane that would take her to the main road down the hill, the only thought in her mind that of finding her boys.  She needed to know they were safe.   

Chapter Text

The Doctor kept his mouth shut.  Forcibly, firmly shut, jaw tense, swallowing hard.  His mind was racing at a million miles an hour, trying to fathom a clever way around the order, just like he’d managed with the problem of being out of the kitchen.  It was too simple though, that ‘you will not speak’.  There was no interpretation required, no nuance or question or room for misunderstanding.

And how was Kilgrave even awake?  

He’d fought… his mind was strong and it had been a struggle for the Time Lord to get his influence to take… oh… it wasn’t as effective as it would have been on a normal human.  

Kilgrave took a step closer to him.  He was wearing pyjamas, dark aubergine-hued cotton bottoms and a black t-shirt.  Cosy.  That didn’t prevent him appearing intimidating in the semi-darkness, light filtering through from the bedroom where he’d turned on the bedside lamp, leaving his face in shadow.  His gaze, coupled with the knowledge of what he could do, was always intimidating, and he was glaring at the Doctor, eyes narrowed as he attempted to find the correct solution to the problem he was faced with. 

The silence thickened, becoming an almost solid presence between the two of them as they faced each other across the landing. 

‘Doctor?  What’s happening?’

‘Sshh!  I need to think!’

Crowley’s anxiety was deeply unhelpful, trembling through the Doctor’s body alongside his own, making it more difficult to remain standing, let alone think straight.

“Place your hands on your head.” 

Kilgrave’s voice was deep, steady, as icy and clear as water in a mountain stream, just a degree or two above freezing. 

Should he obey?  It might buy him more time to think.

The Doctor raised his hands to his head, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t too obviously grimace at the pain in his elbow as he moved it.  He never took his eyes from Kilgrave, so he didn’t miss the tiny, almost imperceptible nod the man gave when he complied. 

“Go back into the bathroom.”

The Doctor stepped backwards, slowly placing one foot behind the other, unwilling to let Kilgrave out of his sight.  A faint half-smirk was visible on the man’s mouth at that; he knew that was what he was doing, and that irritated the Doctor more than it should. 

He paused just beyond the threshold, feet inside the bathroom as they were required to be, but not moving beyond the doorframe, so that he could continue to keep Kilgrave in view. 

“Further,” Kilgrave ordered, a slight growl in his voice, although it wasn’t without a trace of amusement.  Despite his discomfiture over the non-compliance, he was enjoying his captive’s unease. 

Swallowing deeply again, the Doctor stepped back.  Just one step.

“Further.”

Another.  And now he couldn’t see Kilgrave. 

“Three more steps back.”

He did so, standing in the spot where he’d fallen just a few minutes ago.  After a couple of seconds, Kilgrave appeared in the doorway.  He turned on the light, making the Doctor blink at the sudden brightness.  Once he’d adjusted, the Doctor studied his doppelgänger’s face, hoping for a hint of what he might be thinking; what he might think he knew.  Kilgrave was unreadable though, his expression a blank page, eyes still narrowed as he made a similar study of his face.

“Go to the sink.  Put the plug in and turn on the cold tap.”

Precise.  Straightforward.  What was he doing?

The Doctor was willing to comply as far as he could, brain still whirring madly in the background, wishing he knew what Kilgrave was thinking so that he’d know if there was still a way around this. 

The water flowed, filling the sink.  Both pairs of brown eyes watched it, listening to the splash and the gurgle of the cottage’s old pipes.  The air felt almost as thick as Kilgrave’s mind, syrupy, like you’d have to wade through it.  Every interaction with Kilgrave had been like a chess game where he wasn’t entirely sure of the rules, or which pieces were his, or what position he was in on the board.  This one felt like the stakes had been raised, like the pieces were now living things and the cottage was the board, and Kilgrave had him at check, one false move away from mate. 

“Turn the tap off.”

The sink was almost full.  Exerting all of his willpower to keep his hand steady, the Doctor reached out and shut off the flow. 

There was no hesitation from Kilgrave now, like he was impatient after having to wait for the water to fill the sink, and couldn’t wait any longer for the satisfaction of playing his next move. 

“Submerge your head in the water.  Keep it there.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, eyes flicking back towards Kilgrave.  The man’s expression was still blank, as free from emotion as his words had been. 

Did he actually mean to kill Alec?  He was too valuable, surely?  No, it was a test… he was testing his power.  If you weren’t being controlled, the instinct to pull back would become urgent, overwhelming, irresistible… 

He’d hesitated and Kilgrave’s gaze had become sharper.  There was question in it and the Doctor needed more time to work it out. 

Stepping forward, he leaned over the sink and lowered his head, instinctively activating his respiratory bypass just before his face entered the water, and sucking in a breath as he felt the cold pressing in painfully around his scalp.  It hit like brain freeze, the pressure, and he had to fight against the immediate urge to pull back from the cold, even before he faced any choices about breathing or struggling or drowning.

The water displaced around him and splashed over the side, soaking his trousers and shoes and spilling across the tiles. 

‘Crowley, I don’t know what to do… he suspects something, I don’t know what… that he can’t control me, or that I’m not really Alec, or something, I’ve no idea what specifically… if I knew I could work a way around it, but…’

His hands were gripping the edges of the sink tightly, knuckles white and tense, but his head remained still.

‘What’s happening?’

Crowley was tense too, and closer than before, the Doctor could feel, probably right below the window. 

‘He’s testing me.  I’ve got my head underwater.’

‘You’re ok, though?  You’ve done your what’s-it, your bypass thing?’

‘Yeah.  Obviously.  So I can think straight.  But Alec wouldn’t…’

‘Obviously.  Doctor, we should just get you out… we have the pendant and I can keep an eye on him so we don’t lose him.’

‘He’ll be angry.  He’s dangerous when he’s angry.’

The cold was still piercing his skull, making it difficult to think, to concentrate, to remember anything.

‘If he’s here, we can handle him.  We can get the bodyguards to safety and prevent them hurting themselves until his power wears off, and we can…’

‘If I can reassure him that I’m definitely Alec, that I’m under his control, he gets trusting then, he’ll tell me things and I can help you protect people.  We can do your plan to get rid of the bodyguards and get him alone, but I need to be on the inside, so I can know…’

‘NO!  It’s too risky.  He doesn’t trust you, he could hurt you…’  Crowley was clearly becoming frustrated now.

‘I can take it, Crowley.  It’s ok.  I can do this, I can help, I can make it safer.’

‘He’s currently making you drown yourself.  What happens the next time he has a flicker of doubt?  Jessica told me stories…  He’d not hesitate to have you hack off a limb with the bread knife if he thought you were fooling him.’

‘I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe!’  The Doctor was screaming inside his head now, desperate for Crowley to understand.  He would not fail her again.

‘You will not sacrifice yourself!  What do you think that would do to her?  I’d kill you myself if you hurt her that way!  And I am not going to deal with Jack, if he knows I could’ve stopped you…’

‘Crowley!’

“Stand up, Detective Inspector Hardy.”

Kilgrave’s voice cut through their conversation, distant through the water, but still clear enough.  And angry, although still expressed via a chilling calm, with a level of emphasis on the name that told the Doctor that he was in trouble. 

‘Shit…’

‘Doctor?  Doctor… I’m messaging Aziraphale.  For backup.’

He slowly raised his head, still clinging onto the edge of the sink as if that grip could give him some control over the situation.  As he straightened, he felt Kilgrave’s presence getting closer, until the man was stood right behind him, seemingly unaware of the cold water pooled around his bare feet.  The Doctor’s hair and beard were dripping, the cold still making his head ache, although he didn’t shiver.  He could feel the warmth of Kilgrave’s body just an inch or two behind his. 

“Not Detective Inspector Hardy, then,” the man whispered, right by his ear. 

The Doctor couldn’t prevent his breath hitching at that accusation, direct and certain as it was, but he tried one more time.

“What would make you say that?” he asked, still in Alec’s voice.

Kilgrave laughed, that horrifying, quietly evil laugh, dripping in smugness, that the Doctor had heard before.  It was even worse when he could feel it against the wet skin of his neck. 

“Still keeping up the act?”  Kilgrave hummed to himself, as if turning over an idea in his mind.  “Which one of you is it?” he mused.  “Probably not the demon, although we’ve very suspiciously not seen him today, because you’d definitely have dropped the act by now and forced your way inside my head again.  The angel?  We saw him earlier… although if you can alter your forms the way I’ve already seen the demon can… perhaps you’ve switched?  Maybe you’re the angel after all…”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”  Just a little more time.  He clearly isn’t there yet, so perhaps…

“How long do you think the human could hold his breath for?” Kilgrave asked nonchalantly.

Oh… shit.  He’d been arguing with Crowley and lost track of time.  It must have been… a minute? 

“I live by the sea.  Maybe I’m a champion swimmer…” the Doctor suggested desperately, clinging on to Alec by the tips of his fingers.

“Alec Hardy is terrified of water…” Kilgrave whispered, the words stated calmly right into his ear. 

Shit. 

“Or a classically trained singer…?”

Kilgrave slammed his hands against the edge of the sink, right next to the Doctor’s, his body swaying closer with the momentum created, almost pressing against the Time Lord’s back.

“I know you’re not him!” he shouted angrily, clearly right on the edge of losing control, meaning both of them were hovering right on the edge of the precipice.  The Doctor could feel the man’s body quivering with tension, like taut elastic that could snap any second.

A wave of panic and then anger passed through him, not his own but Crowley’s.  He registered it, but couldn’t respond, needing to focus on himself and his own problems.    

“But you don’t know who I am,” he said quietly, far more calmly than he felt.

They stood, the words rippling out like concentric circles in the water they were surrounded by.  The Doctor waited to see if Kilgrave would put the pieces together…

CRASH!

A door slammed below them, probably the back door in the kitchen, judging by the sound.  Both their heads turned instantaneously towards the bathroom door although neither moved from their position by the sink. 

“You’re not alone,” Kilgrave murmured to himself. 

“No,” the Doctor admitted, in his own voice now. 

But before he could react any further, Kilgrave seized the back of his head and shoved it back down, smashing his forehead into the hard metal of the tap, smooth skin tearing on the roughened, rusty edge.  He growled frustratedly as he tried again, this time succeeding in thrusting the Doctor back beneath the water.  Dizzy from the impact, the Time Lord neither used his strength to resist the motion nor activated his respiratory bypass, spluttering as water flooded his mouth, feeling pins pricking all over his scalp again as the cold bit into his skin, his hands flailing mindlessly as he was held beneath the water. 

Reponses dulled by shock and pain, it took the Doctor a moment to react when Kilgrave let go of his hair and moved away, but he raised his head quickly when he realised, causing a wave of dizzying nausea to wash through him as he coughed and choked, blinking water out of his eyes.  Opening them and looking down at the water, he saw clouds of red billowing through it and blinked again, lifting a shaking hand to the throbbing pain in his head.  His fingers were dripping with blood when he lowered them.  Shit. 

Staggering back, he searched almost blindly around him, hands reaching out, whether to steady himself or grab something, he hardly knew.  Towel, he thought.  Need a towel…

The towel rail was next to him, and he swung a hand at it, fingers sliding uselessly past the soft fabric, almost overbalancing from his own momentum as he failed to grasp it.  He gritted his teeth, groaning as he stumbled and landed on his knees, kneeling in the puddle on the tiles, arms clinging onto the edge of the bath. 

‘Doctor, where are you?  Your head is so… fuzzy.  I can’t read you…’

‘Bathroom.’  He took a deep breath, long and slow, hoping that oxygen might do something to prevent the swirling in his head.  ‘Don’ worry ‘bout me… him… get him…’  The Doctor’s vision was becoming blurrier, red in his right eye as blood dripped past.  He tried to blink it away, reaching his arm out blindly in the general direction of the towel rail again, but only ending up slumped over when he realised he couldn’t reach.  An anguished sob made it out of his throat as he rested the side of his head against the bath.  Blurrier, fuzzier, dizzy…

He was vaguely aware of a heightened sense of concern, almost panic, the feelings getting closer…

“Doctor!”

The splash of footsteps in the water… arms around him… the soft press of a towel to his head…

“Doctor?  Doctor, are you ok?  Can you hear me?”

Crowley…

‘Hmm…’

His head felt warm, for the first time since he plunged it beneath the water; the sensation an internal warmth, the presence of Crowley, the comfort that was always there when they touched, the bond made happy by physical contact between both parties.  He still felt blurry, but warm which was better, and he let himself sink into that comfort.

‘Kilgrave?’ he asked, even his internal voice vague in his semi-conscious state.

‘Oh… shit… I… you…’ Crowley struggled, his grip on the Doctor’s body loosening as he turned, as if he somehow expected Kilgrave to be stood behind him.  He wasn’t, of course.  Crowley growled, almost snarling with frustration as he gritted his teeth and pulled back, lowering the Doctor gently back against the bath.  He stood and made his way back to the landing, crossing to the bedroom and checking there too.

No Kilgrave.  And the little safe by the bed was open and empty.

Opening the window, he leaned out and looked around. 

No bodyguards by the door.

The path curved down past some large bushes and a hedge before it descended towards Hawthorn Cottage, so he couldn’t see very far along it.  Letting out a frustrated cry, he debated with himself, trying to reach a decision on how to proceed: the Doctor was injured and needed help, Aziraphale had not arrived yet, he couldn’t take on Kilgrave alone while the bodyguards were with him, although he could trail him and keep him in sight… yes…

Pushing further out of the window, he jumped from it and briefly manifested his wings, allowing him to land softly on the path (he could have run down to the door in only a couple of seconds longer, but this absolutely seemed like the logical thing to do).  Assuming that Kilgrave would head for the town, he turned that way, stalking down the path in pursuit of his prey.  With a thought, he sent a message to Aziraphale, advising him of the Doctor’s position and asking him to go and help their friend first, before doing anything else.  He made extra sure to send it to Aziraphale this time, taking care not to make the same mistake he had with his previous message, because the chance of keeping Jack safely inside their cottage if he knew the Doctor was injured was categorically zero.

*

Pausing to catch his breath, Jack ran his gaze over the harbour.  It was eerily quiet at this time of night, the darkness broken up by the streetlights, the ever-present strings of lights rocking in the breeze over the picnic benches by the fish and chip huts, safety lamps on the boats that bobbed on the water.  On the opposite cliff, he could see the topmost cottage was lit up too: his destination. 

Another long inhale, and he set off again, leaving the promenade now and running along the road towards the police station and the apartments.  Movement caught his eye on the bridge and he tried to focus on it, staggering to a halt when he saw three figures passing quickly beneath a streetlight.  One of them looked familiar… too familiar… and yet not familiar enough.  It had to be Kilgrave, the doppelgänger he hadn’t yet met.  But how was he here…? 

Jack glanced around him, searching for cover.  He couldn’t risk being seen, aware of the danger of being caught by this man, the danger specific to him of being subject to this man’s power.  There was a bin just a few feet away and he darted towards it so he’d be hidden before Kilgrave got too close, only able to hope the man hadn’t yet spotted him. 

Peering through the gaps where people could post their litter, he watched as Kilgrave and his companions marched towards the pier, speculating that they must be the bodyguards, armed and ready to harm themselves at a word from his lips.  The group soon passed out of sight beyond the wall of the pier and Jack could no longer see them, but he knew it could be important, that following Kilgrave’s every move was vital, so he ran towards the wall, remaining hidden behind it but leaning just far enough around to observe them.  There was a brief movement from the man’s head, but no other sign that he was aware of Jack’s presence.

“Come here,” Kilgrave called, looking along the pier.  “Follow me.”  He appeared to be watching someone and waited for a few seconds until he was sure the person was following his order, before turning on his heel and making his way back towards the bridge, a faint smirk on his face that made Jack’s skin crawl.  “And you, behind the wall.  Come here.”

Oh, shit…

He never even looked at Jack, just smiled to himself, enjoying his own cleverness.  There was a sharp glint in his eyes, revealing the anger that simmered beneath the calm exterior.  The calm was a lie, Jack realised, a lie Kilgrave was telling himself to enable him to proceed while new plans formed in his mind. 

Jack felt his limbs begin to move.  He fought it, trying with every ounce of his strength to resist the urge, gritting his teeth with the effort… in vain.  One foot moved in front of the other, and he could feel the overwhelming need to move towards Kilgrave flooding his mind, like no other possibility existed, nothing else mattered, it was the only thing he needed to do. 

Kilgrave paused by the bridge, a point where there were options, different directions to choose, and open enough for him to see if anybody was approaching.  He waited for Jack and the other person to come close enough for him to see them properly.  At a glance, Jack concluded that the other must be Gareth, the biker friend of Ellie, who’d been instructed to meet Zee on the pier.  He didn’t have any opportunity to do anything with that information though, because he noticed that Kilgrave was staring at him.  He met the man’s gaze warily, seeing that Kilgrave was studying him with interest. 

“Oh,” Kilgrave exclaimed after a few moments, a darkly joyful smile spreading across his face, “I recognise you… although perhaps that’s not to be trusted right now.”  His voice dipped lower on that last part, as he mused to himself, eyes glittering angrily behind the delight that was currently brightening them.  “You’re the immortal.  Which means…” – he trailed off, thinking, and then his whole face lit up in sudden understanding – “Oh!  Oh, it was him!  It was him, the whole time… the Doctor…  Of course, it all makes sense… doppelgängers…” 

Kilgrave was animated as the knowledge seemed to flood his mind all at once, walking in a tight circle, hands rubbing at his face.  “Oh, and I taunted him, without even realising it.  That’s delicious… Hmm, they might have fooled me for a while, but doesn’t that just make it better?”  He laughed, stilling as he fixed his eyes on Jack.  “I think I left your boyfriend a little bloody… he had an accident with a tap, so clumsy…”  There was a smirk and an eye roll to accompany those last words.

Jack felt anger and agonising concern surging hot through his veins, and he looked across to the east cliff desperately, immediately taking a step forward, then a second, intending to run.

“Stop!”

He dragged another couple of steps out with all the force of his willpower, but after that he was stuck, unable to move another inch.  Kilgrave laughed again.    

“But apparently I can control you…”  The words hung in the air, threatening, full of dangerous promise.  “And aren’t we going to have fun with you…”  His smile was straight out of a horror movie and Jack swallowed, summoning all of his customary bravado to keep his body from giving any further signs of fear.

Gleeful, Kilgrave folded his arms, casting his eyes over his enthralled companions.  They landed on Gareth.

“You… biker man… give the handsome man your wrench.” 

Gareth held it out towards Jack, who took it without hesitation, not wanting to let his captor sense any. 

Kilgrave raised his voice into a shout for his next instruction, apparently assuming he was being watched.

“Any of your friends come too close… if you so much as see your stupid boyfriend, or the angel, or that bloody demon…” – he sighed – “you will smash that wrench into your beautiful face, repeatedly, until I tell you to stop!”  He lowered his voice, the next words only for Jack, leaning in to deliver them lightly.  “I won’t, of course.”  He smiled, a little dark smile that made Jack shiver despite his promise not to let his fear show.  “Because you’ll come back, won’t you?  And then we’ll be able to do it all again.”  The prospect appeared to delight him.

Their eyes locked briefly, Jack’s cold blue meeting Kilgrave’s now warm, happy brown.  Then Kilgrave stepped back. 

“Right.  Follow me, gang.”

He turned, beginning to walk across the bridge, his step lighter than before, the meeting with Jack having apparently erased his anger regarding the trick played upon him by the Doctor.  Two steps onto the bridge however, he stopped in his tracks. 

Slowly, he turned to his left, looking up the road that ascended the west cliff.  His eyes were wide, surprised and almost, almost scared, and his mouth dropped open in a gasp, lips forming the word ‘you’ so far as Jack could interpret.  He turned his head too, and immediately swore under his breath, legs almost giving way beneath him. 

Zee.

Perhaps fifty metres away up the hill, she was frozen just as completely as Kilgrave was, always pale skin having lost every trace of colour, her own eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream.  The reality of Kilgrave in front of her seemed to have pushed her beyond a panic attack into complete petrification, her mind simply incapable of processing his presence.

What was she doing here?  She was at the cottage… she was safe… she was… on the same group chat.  Shit.  He’d not stopped long enough to consider what might happen if she saw it too…

Kilgrave and Zee stared at each other, unmoving, for several long seconds. 

Jack’s brain seemed to recover itself first, and he began to run towards her.

“STOP!” Kilgrave yelled, and although Jack fought it, he was again able to proceed only another pace or two before the strength of Kilgrave’s power was too much.  He sighed with frustration as he repeatedly and unsuccessfully attempted to move his feet. 

“Run!” he told Zee, voice hoarse with fear.  She didn’t seem to register the word, eyes still unable to leave Kilgrave. 

And then Jack heard the man speaking again behind him.  He got the impression Kilgrave was talking to Gareth, although he kept his own eyes on Zee, repeatedly urging her to run. 

“You remember the woman whose photo I showed you earlier?  That’s her.  Bring her to me.”  He appeared to think for a second, before adding, “If she runs, hunt her down.  And bring her to me.  I’ll be at The Old Oak.”

“Zee!  Run!” Jack tried again, still not managing any noise above a choked whisper-shout.  Her eyes finally moved from Kilgrave, but they didn’t find his, instead landing on something else, something that thankfully had the same effect.  With a gasp so loud he imagined he could hear it, she stumbled backwards and eventually turned, running back up the road until she came to a gap in the low wall separating it from the holiday park.  Turning past the low building of the swimming pool, she disappeared beyond it, hopefully where she’d be able to hide somewhere amidst the maze of static caravans.  Gareth followed, eyes set steadily on his target. 

“The rest of you, follow me,” Kilgrave called.  “That includes you, immortal.”

Jack’s resistance was weakened by distraction and he was barely aware of the instruction until his feet began moving, following Kilgrave across the bridge towards the town centre. 

*

“So, this is a spaceship?  It actually is a spaceship?” Mark questioned, wide eyes fixed on the floor.  He was hunched over, elbows resting on his knees and chin settled onto his clasped hands. 

“Yes.”

“And it belongs to Jack’s boyfriend?  Who looks like you, but isn’t the man I met who looks like you?  Although he is the man I actually met, when I thought it was you?”

“Yes.”

“And how do they fit into all this?”  He screwed his face up in confusion, which Alec observed sympathetically.  “They’re friends of Aziraphale and Crowley?”

Alec hummed uncertainly, eventually developing the hum into a groan.

“Weelll… I’m not sure exactly how all the relationships work.”  He gave a short huff of a laugh.  “I think I’d need a detective cliché wall covered in bits of string and photographs to make sense of that.”

Mark turned his head, eyebrows raised.  Alec shrugged helplessly.

“So, what about the man I met?” Mark pursued.  “The doppelgänger…”

“Hmm…  So…”  Alec eyed Mark carefully, debating how much to tell him.  He’d had to tell him about the Tardis and the Doctor, but telling him about Kilgrave opened up a different problem.  Mark would know he’d been subject to the man’s power, and that might evoke an emotional response that he’d then have to deal with.  He suddenly wished Miller was here; she’d know how to handle this much better than he could. 

“Detective, I have no idea what’s been going on over the past day and a half.  Surely, what you can tell me will help to explain that… I’m so confused!  Nothing I’ve done makes any sense.”

Alec sighed.  Mark was right.  And it was his right to know what had happened to him. 

“The man you met is called Kilgrave.  He… he has the power to control minds.  He gives an instruction, and you have no choice but to obey.”

Mark drew back, straightening and then standing up completely.  He took several steps backwards, until he bumped into one of the barriers at the edge of the platform.  From there, he stared at Alec, horror and disbelief written across his features. 

“He… I… fuck.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I completely understand.”

“No…” he protested, shaking his head, “No, detective, you don’t understand.  Everything I’ve done… I sat there all afternoon in that apartment because he told me to.  I went to the pub, and I…”  He blushed and averted his gaze, embarrassed.  “I came here, with Aziraphale.  I stayed here.  Everything… because he told me to.  That’s…”  He let out a long hiss of breath between his teeth.  “Everything I’ve done has been completely out of character.  None of it was real.”

Alec straightened then, observing Mark more intently.

“None of it…?” he questioned, the words leaving his mouth without his consent, quietly but crystal clear in the quiet atmosphere of the ship.  His cheeks felt warm, and when he realised that, the heat intensified.

Mark dragged his eyes back to meet Alec’s.  He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve…  I would never normally…”  His gaze faltered, shifting back to the floor again.  “I wouldn’t usually flirt like that, without… without knowing it was ok.  There was this need to do it though.”  Mark paused, apparently thinking over what exactly he’d been told and what exactly he’d done.  He screwed his face up, letting out a frustrated groan.  “He told me to get to know you, but… I don’t think I can blame the method on him.  And it wasn’t fair, wasn’t respectful of your feelings.  I wish I could say he told me to do it.  I’d feel a whole lot better about myself then.”  He looked at Alec through his eyelashes, not fully raising his eyes, and Alec almost gasped at being looked at that way.  The blue… piercing… intense… beautif…

“It’s ok,” he said quietly, interrupting his own thoughts.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s nothing.” 

“Right.”  Mark nodded.

Alec cleared his throat this time, staring at the console.  At least Mark wasn’t going to flirt with him anymore.  That was something.  That was good. 

“So, we’re trying to deal with him.  Kilgrave.  It’s not straightforward, because of the mind control thing.  But Aziraphale, Crowley, and the Doctor can’t be controlled, so we have that advantage.”

“Wait… Aziraphale and Crowley?  What’s special about them?  Hang on… Crowley did something… when I got here.  And at the pier, too.  What…?”

Alec groaned, head in his hands.  There was just so much to tell! 

“Right, so Aziraphale and Crowley aren’t human either…”

He was interrupted by the open door of the ship suddenly closing with a loud thud. 

“What?!” both Alec and Mark exclaimed in unison.  Alec stood up and took a step forward, unsure what was happening, but aware that Mark was his responsibility. 

Then the console burst into life, the light from the central pillar brightening and an urgent wheezing sound emanating from it, the strange machinery seeming to compress and depress.  The ship began to shake, and Mark and Alec stumbled into one another, reaching out to steady themselves and ending up holding onto each other as they fell back onto the sofa. 

“What’s happening?” Mark asked, terrified, hand still grasping onto Alec’s arm tightly.  Alec was vaguely aware that he was going to have a bruise later.

“I think… I think we’re… going somewhere,” Alec replied uncertainly.  Mark stared at him, mouth wide and eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“W- where?”

Alec shook his head, his own face forming an expression almost the mirror of Mark’s. 

“I have absolutely no idea.”    

Chapter Text

“Oh!”  Aziraphale rushed forward, a simple gesture clearing up the puddle of water from the floor before he knelt in front of his friend.  The Doctor was slumped against the side of the bath, three limbs scattered randomly across the tiles, while his left arm reached up, hand keeping a towel pressed to his forehead.  The towel, once a pretty, pale lavender hue, was largely stained red, and the angel could tell immediately that the Time Lord was barely conscious, perhaps drifting in and out.  He was soaking wet too, hair dripping, all his clothes saturated.

“Oh, Doctor.  Oh, my dear, dear friend.  What has he done to you?”

Aziraphale sighed, love for his friend bubbling up inside him.  The darker feeling of anger towards Kilgrave was there too, intensifying again in the endless cycle of boiling and simmering it had maintained continually over the past months. 

He leaned closer and tugged the blood-soaked towel from the Doctor’s hand, one of his own warm, gentle hands taking hold of the Time Lord’s as he deposited the damp heap of fabric onto the floor.  The Doctor hardly stirred at the touch, a soft groan rising up from his throat the only response.  Wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, Aziraphale supported him while he drew the hand he was holding to his mouth and kissed the back of it, eyes narrowing furiously as they took in the ragged tear that was splitting the Doctor’s forehead.

“I’m going to heal you, Doctor,” he asserted gently, unsure whether the words would actually be heard or understood.

He sighed again, wishing he could secure the Time Lord’s permission before using his magic on him in this way, but he had to trust that the Doctor would understand later, since he was currently incapable of giving his consent.  Resting the hand he’d kissed against his chest, Aziraphale reached across to the Doctor’s head, sliding his hand through the soggy strands of brown hair affectionately.  After a moment, a glow appeared between hand and head; warmth and sunlight and angelic power.  Aziraphale then brought it lower and passed it carefully over the wound, watching with a satisfied smile as the gash began to close up and heal. 

Once it was done, he gathered the Doctor into his arms and held him close, finishing the job with a solid dose of comforting, angelic aura, and waiting for his friend to wake up.

Several minutes passed before the Time Lord stirred, groaning as he shifted slightly against the angel’s chest.  Aziraphale watched him, allowing him to draw back a little as he blinked open his eyes.  The Doctor looked blearily around, clearly not immediately recalling where he was. 

“Wh- wh- hmm…” he managed to utter eventually.

“Sshh.  It’s ok, Doctor.  You’re ok,” Aziraphale reassured him, stroking his back.

“Az… zira… ful?” 

Smiling, the angel nodded his agreement with his friend’s mumbled assessment.

“Yes.  I’m here.”

The Doctor tried to nod but winced as he found his neck stiff and his head heavy and aching.  Aziraphale held him steady.

“Don’t try to move too much, too quickly, dear.  I healed you, but there will be some tiredness and soreness still.”

“Healed?” the Doctor asked, still very confused.  Groaning again, he leaned into Aziraphale, apparently instinctively understanding that he needed more of the angel’s embrace that was continuing to ease the weight in his body and the throbbing inside his skull.

After a couple of minutes, he tried again.

“’m all wet…” he noticed. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed, pursing his lips and glancing around the room again, “I’m not entirely clear on what happened here.  Crowley just requested that I come and help you.”

“Crowley!” the Doctor exclaimed, sitting up suddenly, eyes wide and gazing about worriedly.  He lifted a hand to his head, screwing his features up.  Aziraphale could see that the sudden movement had caused a wave a nausea to pass through the Time Lord, and held onto his shoulder firmly.  “Kilgrave!”  Worry became terror in those eyes.  “Where…?”  He pushed against the bath and the angel, trying to stand, wobbling, and sinking back down almost onto Aziraphale’s lap.

“Doctor, take your time…”

“No!  Crowley… he was here.  He went to find…  Where’s Kilgrave?  He knows… he knows I’m not…”  He was still trying to push himself up, prevented now by Aziraphale’s firm grip keeping him restrained.

“Doctor!” the angel insisted, “Please sit still.  You need to let your body recover.  You had a nasty head injury.”

“No time!”

Aziraphale lifted a hand to the Doctor’s cheek, guiding his face around and making his friend look at him.  There was another glow, the kind of calming blessing that the angel had been providing to Zee so frequently over the past few months.  It worked, and the Time Lord calmed, still half-sat on Aziraphale’s lap, gazing into the angel’s blue eyes.  His own brown ones were still full of concern, but Aziraphale had his full attention.

“Lovely.  Now, Doctor, can you tell me what happened?”

*

“Fuck!”

Crowley stood in the shadow of a pile of lobster pots, watching across the harbour as Kilgrave added to his ‘protection’, gathering the biker to add to his little band… and Jack. 

What the heaven was Jack doing out of the cottage?

With another whispered obscenity, directed entirely at himself, the demon realised the infuriating consequences of his misplaced text message… Jack must have seen it before he realised and deleted it, had panicked and come to help his partner, and now he had fallen into Kilgrave’s dangerous clutches.  The man knew what they all looked like and would certainly recognise the gift that had landed in his lap.  Fear twisted in Crowley’s gut at the thought of what that might mean for Jack. 

Kilgrave did recognise him.  He was speaking to him particularly.  The demon observed with his heart in his mouth as Jack tried to run and was prevented.  There hadn’t been any doubt really, but seeing Jack unable to resist Kilgrave’s power was still a shock; seeing it in action as he followed docilely.

“Any of your friends come too close… if you so much as see your stupid boyfriend, or the angel, or that bloody demon… you will smash that wrench into your beautiful face, repeatedly, until I tell you to stop!”  

Well, that was quite clear.  Crowley cursed himself again, realising that to protect Jack, they’d have to keep their distance. 

The group were moving… then stopped, pausing a couple of steps onto the bridge.  He couldn’t make out what they were looking at.  Jack tried to run again.  What was going on?

Given the threat to Jack, Crowley determined it was best not to move and try to improve his view, uncertain whether the perception filter would work on his friend who might expect him to be following.  He therefore remained where he was, irritated that he couldn’t fully understand what was happening. 

The biker headed off up the hill, sent on some errand, and the group proceeded across the bridge towards the town centre.  Crowley followed at a safe distance; he could maybe send Aziraphale to investigate the biker later, perhaps if Alec tracked him…  It was more pressing to follow Kilgrave and Jack, keep their enemy in their sights and be ready to step in if Jack really needed it. 

He decided not to communicate what he’d discovered to Aziraphale just yet though, for fear of making the Doctor panic.  They couldn’t risk an emotional Time Lord going after his boyfriend right now…

*

Zee’s heart was thudding so fast in her chest that she could barely draw breath.  She stumbled aimlessly between the rows of caravans, disorientated by the repetition, no idea where she was or how to escape, planting her feet one in front of the other without thinking, legs leaden with fear and protesting each movement.

Him.

She’d always assumed that she’d break down completely if she saw him, worse than the panic attacks she’d endured before, because he was the reason after all.  Instead, she’d been frozen.  Her body simply stopped.  No response at all, just a complete inability to move, to draw her eyes away from him. 

Run.  Zee, run…

There had been a voice, urging her.  She couldn’t move though. 

Until she’d seen the other man begin to move towards her.  And then her body had begun to operate on instinct, the deep ‘fight or flight’ of her innate human biology.  She’d run, somehow knowing that the man would take her to him, and then he’d… he’d be back in her head… back in her body… and she’d not make it out this time, her own voice wouldn’t survive his presence again, battered and bruised as it still was.

Her lungs were burning and she had to stop, to suck oxygen into them.  Pressing herself back against the wall of a caravan, she let her body sink, breathing hard, screwing her eyes shut tight against the waves of dizziness and nausea that washed through her. 

Him.

He was here, and she was alone, stupidly, stupidly alone. 

But he was… how was he…?  Crowley had requested backup… but he’d clearly made it out…  Where were her boys?  Her beautiful, brave, powerful boys?  Had he hurt them?

She felt too hot and too cold all at once, biting on her lip until she tasted blood as she desperately tried to fight the urge to vomit.  It was her fault, all her fault…

Crack!    

Her eyes shot open as she gasped, ice flooding her veins at the sound of a twig snapping beneath a foot.  She was still being followed.

Sucking one last gulp of breath into her lungs, Zee pushed away from the caravan and staggered forwards.  One foot in front of the other… faster… run!

Past another row of caravans, and another, she came to a stone wall, about chest height.  Beyond it was open space and even with her mind as scrambled and confused as it was, she knew that wasn’t a good place to run; she’d be too visible.  Glancing quickly to both sides, she searched for another option…  To her left the endless maze of caravans, to her right the rest of the row and then open fields running alongside the river, and behind her…

Shit!

He was there, the man he’d sent after her… tall and broad and strong.  She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he caught her, and he wasn’t far behind.

She’d have to take her chances.

The stone was rough beneath her hands as she dragged herself up onto the top of the wall, her trainers skidding on its surface, and she felt the edge scraping the skin off her palms.  Hauling herself over, she ignored the pain, dropping down onto the other side and immediately setting off across the field, running blindly through the long grass, not daring to look behind her.

*

The wheezing and shuddering ceased as the Tardis apparently settled in her new position.  Alec blinked at the console, observing the stilling of its movements, the dulling of the lights.  A sense of urgency flowed through his body, a knowledge that something was wrong and he had to do something  about it.  He realised that he was still holding onto Mark and dropped his hand from the man’s shoulder, turning his head to stare at the point where Mark’s hand was still gripping his arm tightly. 

He cleared his throat, drawing Mark’s attention to it, and the man let go, apparently reluctantly. 

“Wh- where?”

Alec shook his head, inhaling deeply before pushing himself to his feet somewhat shakily.  The feeling of wrong and urgent was increasingly intense, a desperate sensation, most akin to acute concern for the welfare of a loved one.  He didn’t understand where the feeling was coming from, but he felt compelled to act upon it, and stumbled towards the console, searching for any information that might help him comprehend and know what to do. 

Placing his hand on the edge, he found that the feelings became almost unbearably intense, making him withdraw his touch again almost instantly, glaring at the bright pillar at the console’s centre with his brow creased, angry and questioning.

“What?  What do you want?” he hissed, blushing as he realised he was talking to a spaceship.

A burst of gratitude and love flowed through him, and he understood that he was correct in his assumption: the Tardis was trying to communicate with him.  He could get nothing clearer than vague feelings though, and didn’t know how to translate them.

“Detective?” a confused voice asked behind him. 

“It wants something… the ship, it’s sentient, and it’s taken us somewhere because it’s important.  Something is wrong.”  His gaze landed on the door.  “I have to go outside and find out what it is…”

The words came out of his mouth without him really thinking about them, but he knew they were true, and he swallowed deeply, scared of what he might find outside.  They could be anywhere. 

Relief washed through him, the ship’s relief, as she realised he was beginning to comprehend what was needed.  The door swung open of its own accord, revealing darkness outside.

“We’re… we’re not in the kitchen anymore,” Mark observed.

“No,” Alec agreed, moving around the console towards the open door.  He was almost there when he realised there were heavier footsteps following his own, and he turned around to see Mark following him.  “What are you doing?” 

“I’m coming with you,” Mark replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Alec shook his head, incredulous.

“No.  No, you’re…” – he screwed up his face, aware that they really weren’t doing things by the book anyway – “You’re my witness, under my protection, you can’t… I can’t let you be exposed to any danger while you’re my responsibility.”

Mark snorted.

“If you’re going out there, I’m coming too.”

“Mr Davies!” Alec exclaimed, trying to assert some authority. 

Mark laughed, biting on his lip and folding his arms.  Alec felt frustration from the ship and rolled his eyes, letting out a loud huff of a sigh. 

“Fine!  Just… stay behind me.  And do as I say.  I’m a police officer, I’m trained to deal with… whatever is out there.”  He flapped his hand towards the door, indicating the ‘unknown’ beyond and hoping it was something he was trained to deal with.

Mark lifted an eyebrow, amusement on his lips.

“I’m a first responder, detective.  I think we’re both appropriately trained to respond to emergencies and step into unknown circumstances.”

Alec turned and marched towards the open door, crossing the threshold into the darkness, with Mark following closely behind.  Once outside, he looked around him, noting the familiar shape and lights of Broadchurch.  Taking another couple of steps away from the Tardis, he spun on his heel and recognised the outline of a row of buildings to their right.

“That’s my house!” he declared, pointing across the open space between the ship’s landing spot and the line of houses he was staring at.  They had landed in a large field that undulated down the hill towards the caravan park and then the harbour beyond.  The Tardis had merely shifted them approximately half a kilometre inland. 

“Why…?” Mark questioned, Alec simply shrugging in response. 

Then he heard a muffled scream, and movement caught his eye at the bottom of the field.  There was a scuffle taking place, two people engaged in a violent tussle.  A smaller figure was wriggling in the apparently strong grasp of a larger one.  That must be it… the reason they were here!

“Remember, behind me.  Let me handle this,” he reiterated as he set off quickly down the hill, knowing it was futile to request that Mark not follow at all.  As they approached, it became clear that the larger figure was trying to drag the smaller one back towards town, and the smaller one was putting up an impressive fight. 

“Police!” Alec called, instinctively reaching for his pocket before realising that he didn’t actually have his badge, because the Doctor had it.  Cursing under his breath, he hoped that wouldn’t matter.  “Police!” he shouted again, and the larger figure looked at him briefly, long enough for Alec to recognise him as Gareth, Ellie’s date, the man he’d been keeping an eye on earlier, before he’d been distracted by Mark’s unexpected arrival in the Tardis.  After that brief glance, Gareth ignored Alec and continued trying to subdue the other figure, whose mouth was covered up by his hand, presumably in an attempt to stop them screaming.   

“What are you…?”  He was close now, and could see that the smaller figure was female, clad in hoodie and jeans, loosely curling hair in a ponytail at the back of her head.  She’d been attempting to kick Gareth, dark eyes wide with terror as she squirmed and strained against the strong grasp of his arm looped tightly around her chest, trying desperately to tear it away, but when she caught Alec’s voice and turned her gaze on him, she froze, body going limp in the man’s arms. 

Alec paused too, recognising the eyes, because the only other time he’d seen them, they’d also been wide with terror. 

Zee.

What the hell was she doing out here?  When had she…?

Mark appeared at Alec’s side, and Alec held an arm out to stop him getting any closer.

“He’s under Kilgrave’s control,” he whispered.  “We have to be careful.”

“That’s Zee!” Mark hissed back.  “What is she doing out here?”

“Not important right now, we need to stop him taking her.”

“I’m strong, detective.  Let me…” 

Alec refused to lower his arm, but took another step forward.

“Gareth, it’s Gareth isn’t it?”  Briefly again, the man allowed his focus to land on Alec, but just as quickly, it was back on his task, now much easier since Zee had stopped fighting.  She was still staring at Alec, and he could see her chest rising and falling erratically, her eyes almost crazed now and wet with tears. 

“You know my colleague, Ellie,” Alec pursued, hoping to find a way to get through to the man, without having to resort to a physical confrontation.  Gareth shot him an irritated glare, before adjusting his grip, picking Zee up and backing down the hill away from them.

“I just have to take her to him,” he shouted as he retreated.  “Leave us alone!”

“I can’t do that, Gareth.  I can’t let you take her.” 

On hearing that, Zee apparently realised that there was a possibility of rescue, and came to her senses enough to fight again, kicking her dangling feet at Gareth’s legs furiously, although she closed her eyes and was clearly still having trouble controlling her breathing. 

Alec and Mark followed Gareth’s progress but didn’t get closer to him, Alec’s mind working quickly as it attempted to find a way to rescue Zee, preferably without her having to see him more than was really necessary. 

“Were you given any other instructions, Gareth?” he questioned.  “Apart from taking her to him?”

“No,” the man replied, gasping as Zee dug her nails into his arm savagely and caught his shin directly with the heel of her shoe.  “Aagh!  Bitch!” he yelled, tightening his grip.

“Hey!” Alec admonished him, “You’re not using that kind of language about her, not in front of me!”  He dropped his voice so only Mark would hear.  “I think you might… you might need to try and overpower him.  I just hope he’s really not got any backup instructions, perhaps Kilgrave was in a hurry and forgot… I don’t want him to turn on you if you intervene.”

“I can take care of myself, don’t worry,” Mark assured him, giving him a quick smile.  “I’ll circle behind if you keep him occupied, and grab him.”  His eyes flicked quickly between Zee and Alec.  “I know you’re trying to keep your distance… but you’ll probably need to take Zee from him and guide her away.”

Alec nodded. 

“Yeah.  Just do what you can, and I’ll… I’ll try and make it ok.”  Returning his focus to Gareth, he took a deep breath to steady himself.  “Gareth, you don’t have to do this.  Just let her go.  If you let her go, there won’t be any consequences for you.  We know it’s not your fault, ok?”  His words made no difference, but they helped keep Gareth occupied so that Mark could move around, as did Zee’s continued efforts to free herself, tearing frantically at Gareth’s arm and leaving ribbons of red in her wake.  Alec winced at the sight.

“Zee,” he called, softening his voice, aiming to let her know that he understood, that it was ok, and that although she was scared, he was still going to try to help her.  “Keep your eyes closed, yeah?  Trust me, please.”  Mark was close now, ready to make his move.  “Zee, stop fighting for a second.” 

She stilled her legs and hands, although her nails still dug into Gareth’s arm, and Alec watched as Mark suddenly threw himself at Gareth, strong hands grabbing the man’s upper arms in a vice-like grip.  Gareth was strong, but Mark was stronger, holding him in place so he had to pause in his efforts, calculating how to overcome the problem without letting go of his target.       

Then Alec finally realised what he needed to do, remembering how they’d handled Mark when he was under Kilgrave’s control… don’t fight him, make it seem like you’re helping him carry out his task…

“Gareth, listen!  Gareth, we can help you.  You have to take her to him, I understand, but we… we can help you.”  His body was tense as he desperately tried to make the man listen.  Mark was staring at him over Gareth’s shoulder, confused, but Alec nodded, eyes burning intensely, narrowed with concentration and fixed on Gareth’s face.  This was it, this was the way, just like they’d done to get Mark to the cottage!  “She’s hurting you, isn’t she?  What if we help?  Let her go for a second.  Let Mark hold her for you, give you a little break.”  He raised his eyebrows at Mark significantly, begging him to understand. 

“Let Mark hold her!” he said again, and saw comprehension dawn in Mark’s expression, as he released Gareth and moved around, holding his arms open ready for Zee.  Gareth fixed his gaze on Alec, who smiled at him, trying to look honest and eager to help.  “Gareth, come on, let her go for just a minute.  Then we can help you get her to him, yeah?”

Zee was still clinging on, still not fighting Gareth, and still breathing erratically, frequently choking on her breaths. 

“You’ll help me?” Gareth asked.

Alec nodded. 

“Yes.  We all want the same thing here.  So, you just need to let her go.  She’ll tear your arm to shreds if you keep trying to do this by yourself.”

Zee tightened her grip, digging her nails in deeper, reinforcing his point, and Alec felt a rush of relief as he saw that she was working with them.  How much she could actually understand right now was debatable, but she knew they were trying to help her, and she was trusting their plan.

Confusion in his eyes, Gareth seemed to debate internally, the battle flashing behind his gaze.  Eventually, he seemed to reach a conclusion, making a decision he hoped would lead him closer to fulfilling his task… and he loosened his hold, dropping Zee back onto the ground.  She staggered on unsteady legs, and Mark swooped in to grab her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her several paces back, away from Gareth.  Alec could see the paramedic whispering to her, presumably explaining, reassuring, letting her know that she was safe.

He flicked his gaze back to Gareth. 

“Much better, yeah?”  The man nodded, holding his arm out and looking down at the deep scratches and tears in his skin, some with blood dripping from them.  “You need to get those cleaned.”  Alec was thinking on his feet still, and an idea had just occurred to him, that would enable them to get Zee out of Kilgrave’s reach.  “I have a first aid kit in my house, and it’s not far from here.  Can you see the houses over there?”  He pointed to the road running along the far edge of the field and the row of houses it served.  “My house is there.  We can go, get you cleaned up, and then get on with the task, eh?”

Gareth nodded again, quite bewildered. 

Alec turned to Mark, pleased when he saw that he was now crouched down, Zee knelt on the ground in front of him, facing away from Alec, and he was talking her through some deep breaths, keeping things slow, large hands firmly on her shoulders.  The paramedic looked up at Alec when he felt his gaze on him, and Alec smiled reassuringly, receiving a similar smile in return.  Then Alec lifted his eyebrows in question and Mark nodded. 

Alec watched as he spoke with Zee, asking if she felt able to walk across the field to get to somewhere safe.  Her whole body was shaking and it seemed obvious that she wouldn’t be able to do so, but Mark waited, allowed her to respond, and then offered to carry her instead.  She accepted that, still gulping in breaths but seeming to be more consistently able to get oxygen into her lungs now.

Mark picked her up effortlessly, carrying her bridal style, with her arms wrapped around his neck and head buried in his shoulder.  Alec’s chest felt tight as he understood that she was preventing herself from seeing him, knowing that she’d probably be acutely aware of his presence, and wishing that he could help her without also giving her another thing to be frightened of.

The four of them set off across the field, Alec giving Gareth frequent reassuring smiles.  He knew that the man wouldn’t be able to enter his house, but his priority was getting Zee in there, and then they could deal with the rest.

*

After the Doctor had told him what he could about the events leading up to his arrival at Mrs Jarvis’ cottage, Aziraphale determined that, in the absence of alternative instructions from Crowley, it was best to return to their cottage, to check in with the others, and then wait for Crowley to provide them with the information they’d need to put together a plan.  So, with the angel still offering some support to his friend, healed but dazed (and Aziraphale suspected that had more to do with the after-effects of his mind’s contact with Kilgrave’s rather than of the subsequent physical assault), the pair walked steadily down the path towards the beach.  He didn’t offer to teleport them, despite feeling more comfortable with the activity after using it a couple of times, because he considered that it would do the Doctor no good at all in his current state.

The cool breeze and sea air seemed to rouse the Doctor, clearing his mind more successfully than any of the angel’s interventions had done, and he appeared brighter, with more of his usual alertness, although the deep line in his brow as he worried about the consequences of the night’s events didn’t shift.  He didn’t talk much, occasionally expressing anger at himself, at his inability to recall such a basic instruction as not to talk…

Aziraphale attempted to distract him, letting him know how things had been at the cottage, how well Zee seemed to be coping, and how they’d managed to keep Mark safe.  He was particularly pleased to explain the work Alec had been doing, delighted with how the detective was stepping up to deal with the situation despite how challenging he found all the… well, everything. 

They soon ascended the west cliff and reached the cottage, Aziraphale feeling relieved that he was back here so soon, with the Doctor safely at his side, ready to reunite the Time Lord with his worried partner, and to wrap his arms around his own partner too, to kiss her forehead and know that she was doing fine.  They might all be asleep of course…

However, as they were welcomed without problem through the magical barrier protecting the cottage, and made their way along the garden path, the angel noticed the Doctor become more tense before stilling completely.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” he questioned, immediately understanding that there was something bothering his friend.

“I can’t feel the Tardis,” the Time Lord replied.  “I could feel her vaguely when I was outside, which is odd now I think of it because since we’ve been here, the wards on the cottage have made a barrier so I couldn’t… I’m just so used to it that I didn’t think anything of the fact she was back… but I can’t feel her at all now.  I don’t… I don’t think she’s here.” 

They were both already running towards the door, Aziraphale unlocking it with a wave of his hand, not waiting the couple of seconds longer it would take to use his key, and hurrying towards the kitchen.  The door was open, and they saw instantly that the Doctor was correct.  There was no Tardis. 

“What’s she playing at?  I know she just… goes, when she thinks it’s necessary, but… why now?” the Doctor asked the room, hands outspread, an irritated whine in his tone.

“Perhaps one of the others will know,” Aziraphale suggested.  “We should ask them.”  He popped his head around the living room door and found it empty, tried the dining room on the off chance… empty too.  With a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach, the angel climbed the stairs (noting vaguely that the Doctor was still pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself).  It seemed unlikely that all four of the cottage’s supposed inhabitants would be in bed… there were only two beds, after all. 

He went to the master bedroom first, knowing he would be welcome there…

Empty.

The bed had been slept in, and the sheets were tangled and unmade, suggesting the occupant had left in a hurry.  Zee’s pyjamas were scattered on the floor by the chair, and the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday were missing.  More worrying still… her phone was abandoned on the bed. 

Panic began to rise in Aziraphale’s chest, his heart in his throat as he began to realise that perhaps the missing Tardis and the apparent absence of everybody who should be in the cottage were connected.  With no hope that he’d find anything helpful, he stepped across the landing to the guest bedroom.  That was empty too, but the angel noted with confusion that the window was fully open, the sash raised right up and the curtains blowing in the breeze.  He looked out but could see no reason why it should be open, so closing it, he went back downstairs, legs like jelly and hands shaking.

“Doctor…” he began as he re-entered the kitchen.  At the sound of his voice, the Time Lord whirled around to face him, and one look at his face apparently told the story.

“Aziraphale?” he breathed, barely articulating the question.

“There’s nobody here… they’re all… gone.” 

Chapter Text

Crowley kept to the shadows, mostly out of fear of being noticed by Jack, who might realise that he could be here and thus overcome the power of the perception filter.  Being observed by Jack would be doubly problematic; his compliance with Kilgrave’s order not only devastating in itself, but also revealing that one of them was present, and the consequences of that becoming known were frighteningly unpredictable.

Carefully, the demon followed Kilgrave and his little band of protection all the way to The Old Oak, where the group entered and the demon hovered outside wondering how best to proceed.  Creeping around the outside of the pub, Crowley attempted to establish where Kilgrave had gone, whether he’d taken up a spot downstairs or engaged a more private room, the place being quite large and offering accommodation too.  Once he was sure that the group were not in the main public area, he manifested his wings and cautiously ascended to the upper floors, taking extra care not to let himself be seen through the windows. 

He eventually located Kilgrave in one of the pub’s stylish en-suite bedrooms, sat in a very formal armchair by the fireplace, one long leg crossed over the other.  The bodyguards were presumably outside in the corridor, and Jack was kneeling on the rug in front of Kilgrave’s chair, the wrench on the floor beside him, wearing the stoic, cold expression that Crowley knew he always painted on his features when faced with the prospect of his immortality being abused.  In contrast, Kilgrave’s mouth was curved into a little smirk as he contemplated his latest toy, his expression thoughtful as he considered the myriad ways he could put Jack’s reported ability to the test. 

Fortuitously, the metal staircase of a fire escape passed close to the bedroom window, and Crowley settled there, keeping out of sight (just in case), but watching closely. 

It was then that his phone buzzed.

He almost jumped right out of his corporation at the sudden vibration, cursing under his breath at the potentially eye-catching, jerking movement it caused, and ducking down so he couldn’t be observed from inside the room.  Breathing hard, he tried to settle his nerves, plucking his phone from its usual home in an adjacent plane of existence, and focusing on the screen. 

Aziraphale: The Doctor is ok.  We’re back at our cottage.  Are you able to talk?  A

Crowley blinked at the screen.  Shit.  If they were at the cottage, they must know that Jack was gone, hence the request to talk.  What were the others saying?  Had they noticed he’d left?  Were they even awake?

Swallowing deeply, he wondered whether he should have shared his knowledge.  He knew why he hadn’t, but the information was never going to remain a secret, and perhaps it would actually have been better for him to tell Aziraphale himself, so that the angel could break the news to the Doctor carefully, able to make use of his angelic powers to keep the Time Lord as calm as possible.  The Doctor would be panicking and that was not a helpful response… 

Casting a quick miracle to prevent any noise from the fire escape travelling, Crowley tapped Aziraphale’s name and brought the phone to his ear.  His husband answered immediately.

“Crowley!”

“Angel… I…”

“They’re gone, Crowley!”  The angel’s voice was pitched high with panic, and it took Crowley a moment to comprehend the words, distracted by the way the tone alone sent alarm racing through his corporation.

“Angel, I have eyes on Jack, I know where… wait… what?”

“The cottage was empty when we arrived, even the Tardis is missing.”  Crowley’s heart dropped like a stone, cold fear settling in his gut.  “Did you say that you know where Jack is?”

“Yeah.  Aziraphale… where is Zee?”  His voice was shaking, and his hands too, the phone wobbling against his ear.

“I don’t know,” the angel responded quietly, his own terror evident in the breathlessness of his voice.  “Where are you?  Did you manage to keep up with him?  I’m so scared, Crowley…  What if she’s…”

“She’s not with Kilgrave, angel.”

Crowley closed his eyes as he listened to the very loud exhale on the other end of the line, feeling his husband’s relief at knowing that at least their partner was not back in Kilgrave's thrall.

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah.  I’m still watching him.  She’s not here.”

“Oh.  Oh, thank goodness.”  The relief lasted only a single beat however, because Aziraphale realised what the disconnected details of Crowley’s current whereabouts meant.  “But… Crowley, you said… you have eyes on Jack…?”

“Yeah.”  The flatness of the demon’s tone communicated everything. 

“Oh… fuck!” the angel exclaimed, voice high and panicked again.  Crowley could hear sounds in the background, murmurs and muffled words, the phone clearly not by Aziraphale’s mouth anymore.  Then his voice could be heard clearly again, loudly and assertively.  “Doctor!  Let me speak to him, and we can sort this out.  Doctor!  Sit down on that chair right now!  I will speak with Crowley and we will ensure that Jack is ok.  You panicking is not going to help, especially not in your current condition.  Sit down!” 

There was a huff, and Crowley pulled the phone away from his ear for a second, staring at it with raised eyebrows and slightly open mouth. 

“Crowley?”  Aziraphale had obviously returned his phone to its proper position, and was speaking quite calmly now.  Crowley suspected that miraculous intervention had taken place.  “Could you please tell me what is happening?”

“Bloody hell, angel!” Crowley replied. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale warned.

“Yeah… um… right.”  His train of thought had vanished and it took a moment for the demon to find it again.  “Kilgrave has Jack.  They’re in one of the rooms upstairs at The Old Oak.”

“And he can…?”

“He can.” 

“Has he harmed him?”

“No.”  The ‘not yet’ was strongly implied.  Kilgrave was occasionally predictable. 

“Good.  Can you get him out?”

“Weeelll… I could.  Possibly.  It would… have consequences.”  There was question in Crowley’s tone, and he hoped Aziraphale would tell him what to do.  Rescuing Jack would reveal his presence, and there was still too much risk of collateral damage, including direct threat to Jack, to make that ideal, but not rescuing their friend felt wrong. 

“Just keep an eye on them for now,” the angel advised.  “We’ll come back to that.”  He cleared his throat, and then returned to their other problem.  “What about the others?  Any sign of any of them?”

“No, just Jack.  Kilgrave picked him up by the harbour and I followed them here.  You said the Tardis had gone?  Do you think she took them somewhere safe?”

Aziraphale swallowed audibly. 

“Zee left in a hurry,” he admitted.  “She left her phone on the bed.”

Before Crowley could respond to that, he heard a sudden, loud peal of laughter from the room behind him.  Kilgrave’s laughter.  He froze, a shiver trickling like ice down his spine at the sound.  Silently, he turned, peering through the window again.

Kilgrave was where he had been before, grinning now, eyes bright with an almost manic pleasure.  In front of him, Jack’s eyes were wide but very deliberately cold, his mouth opened in a gasp, almost like he’d just sucked in his very first breath.  Glancing downwards, Crowley began to suspect that that was exactly what he’d done. 

Still on his knees, Jack’s form was wobbling, one hand out to steady himself.  The other was holding the poker from the set of tools by the fireplace.  There was blood dripping from it, and Jack’s shirt was partially unbuttoned and open, the blue soaked through with scarlet.

Just as Crowley was beginning to piece together what had happened, Kilgrave’s gaze sharpened, and he spoke.  Crowley could read exactly what words his lips excitedly formed…

Do it again!            

With only the briefest flicker of resistance in his eyes, Jack settled himself into a steadier position and raised both hands, gripping the handle of the poker tightly as he held it out in front of him.  And then, with all the strength he was capable of… he drove the narrow metal tool forcefully into his chest, right where his heart would be. 

Crowley gasped, his hand falling down to his side, phone slipping from his grasp and landing with a thud on the cold metal of the fire escape.  He watched in horror as Jack’s face contorted with agony, features large, shocked by the force of the blow.  Jack coughed once… twice… blood bubbling up from his mouth, and his hands fell as he slumped to the side. 

He had never seen Jack die before.  He’d heard stories and knew how it worked, but even in the Doctor’s mind, those memories were kept locked away, and Crowley had never seen them.  And despite knowing what would happen, he was shocked by the reality of it, shocked by exactly that; how real it was.

He watched the life fade in Jack’s eyes, the blood trickling out around the metal embedded in his chest, the stains blossoming bigger and brighter on his shirt.  The poker had pierced his heart, so it didn’t take long.  And then he was dead.

Slumped on the rug, bloody and broken and… dead.

Kneeling on the fire escape, Crowley supported himself on his hands, breaths ragged and eyes wide.  He couldn’t tear his gaze from Jack’s body, pale and lifeless, blood dripping from his chin and chest onto the soft fabric of the rug.  Kilgrave was laughing gleefully, loudly enough to carry outside, the sound like torture to the demon, and beyond it was another, equally as painful; Aziraphale shouting his name through the phone, his distress finding its way faintly to Crowley’s ears.

And then, seconds later, the poker fell from Jack’s chest, the universe rejecting it, time scraping back, erasing the error, putting right the wrong Kilgrave’s order had caused.  And Jack was gasping again, eyes wide, lifting himself onto his hand as he returned, the gaping wound in his chest closing, the pale skin smooth and whole and perfect once more. 

And Aziraphale was still calling Crowley’s name, demanding his attention, begging to know what was happening…

He scrabbled for his phone, finding it and picking it up, tapping the icon to put his angel on speaker because his hands were shaking too much to return the device to his ear.

“Angel…” he gasped, “I’m here.”

“What happened, Crowley?  Are you ok?”

“Yeah.  ‘m fine.”

“Jack?” Aziraphale enquired hesitantly.

Crowley’s eyes were still glued to the rejuvenated form of their friend, coldly staring at Kilgrave with those piercing blue eyes, the bloodstains on his clothes and the rug, and the red liquid steadily dripping from the poker, the only signs of his recent trauma. 

“He’s… fine,” he answered, wonder and surprise in his tone, barely believing what he’d just witnessed.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, clearly understanding what Crowley meant, perhaps reading the hoarseness in his voice.  Crowley wondered if the Doctor would also know from Aziraphale’s reaction.  Most likely.

Movement inside the room caught his eye then; Jack suddenly flinching and Kilgrave sitting up straighter in his chair.  Both men’s eyes slid to Jack’s wrist, and Crowley realised that the device he wore there must have made a noise.  Kilgrave spoke then, and Jack replied. 

Crowley asked Aziraphale to give him a minute.  Frustrated, he shifted closer to the window and made a gesture that opened it just a fraction, allowing him to hear what was going on inside. 

“Answer it, but do not speak.”

The instruction from Kilgrave was delivered with his usual steel, a glint of excitement just about audible.  Jack obeyed, tapping his vortex manipulator but keeping his mouth closed, eyes clinging on to their cold expression.  A flicker of desperation threatened to thaw it, burning behind, but he fought it, always keeping his emotions locked down in the face of the enemy.

“Jack?  Jack, are you there?  It’s DI Hardy.”

The Scottish accent gave the identity of the caller away before Alec identified himself, and Crowley’s eyes widened.  Why was Alec calling Jack?  And where in the universe was he?!

“Ah… detective inspector.  How delightful to finally, actually speak with you,” Kilgrave answered, voice smooth and syrupy.  He could be so charming when he wanted to be…

“Um… hmm…”

“How rude of me,” Kilgrave purred, “not to introduce myself.  My name is Kilgrave, detective.  You may know my name.  I certainly know yours.”

“Oh…” Alec gasped, uncertainty shaking his voice.  Kilgrave smiled at the sound, comprehending that Alec very much recognised his name.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?” he enquired sweetly.

“Oh… um… I… sorry.”

The line went dead and Kilgrave smirked, enjoying the confusion, even distress, his very existence could apparently cause.

“I imagine they already know you’re with me,” Kilgrave mused, relaxing back into his chair again.  “They must be watching me, somehow…  But at least now we can be certain.  I wonder what he wanted?”

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale’s voice sounded urgently from Crowley’s phone.  Tearing his eyes from the scene inside, he looked down at it, almost surprised to recall that it was in his hand, and that his husband was waiting patiently on the other end of the line.

“Crowley?  I have another call.  It’s Detective Inspector Hardy.”

“He just tried calling Jack,” Crowley responded quickly, “Answer it.”

“Right.” 

There was a slight pause, then a small huff, and finally a satisfied hum. 

“Detective?” the angel greeted the new caller.  Crowley really stared at his phone this time, before realising that Aziraphale must have simply miraculously added the second call into the first conversation.  His angel only ever operated the device by miracle, so it really shouldn’t be a surprise. 

“Aziraphale?”

“Where are you?  Are you ok?  Are the others with you?”  The questions tumbled out of the angel’s mouth.

“We’re at my house…”

“We?” Crowley interrupted, his chest fluttering wildly.  

“Oh.  Mark and Zee are here too.  And Gareth, although he’s outside, because he couldn’t come in.”

“How did you…?” Aziraphale began, relief flooding his voice at the news that Zee was somewhere safe.        

“Tardis.”

“You piloted the Tardis?”  Crowley was incredulous.    

“Well no, not exactly.  It just kind of… brought us.”

“I have so many questions…” the demon sighed, running his hand over his face. 

“We’ll come to you, detective,” Aziraphale declared.

“No, listen… I tried to call Jack first.  Kilgrave answered!  He must have Jack.  You need to focus on rescuing him; we’re all fine here.  Mark is tending to a few cuts and bruises, but we’re fine and we’re safe.  I just wanted to let you know where we are, and to pass on that information.”

“I’m with them,” Crowley replied.  “I’m keeping an eye on things, but I can’t just go in there and get him, because if he sees me, he’ll… well, it won’t be pretty.”

“Crowley?”  Aziraphale’s voice was soft, patient.  “I think you should tell us everything that you know, so that we can come up with a plan.”

*

“This’ll sting a bit, I’m sorry.” 

Mark hesitated before applying the antibacterial swab to Zee’s palm, waiting for her to consent.  She nodded very slightly, eyes fixed on his with a focus that made his heart ache with sympathy; she was clearly frightened that if she didn’t concentrate, her gaze might wander, and she might see Alec.  They were in the man's living room after all, Zee on the sofa and Mark perched on the coffee table, leaning across to her.  She barely flinched though, as he began to clean the grazes on her hands, still in shock, slightly dissociated from her body. 

Fortunately, her breathing was much better now; he’d gone through several exercises, helping her to assert control over her body, and now she was inhaling almost normally, a little catch sometimes the evidence of her continued anxiety. 

“You’re doing so well, Zee.  Really well,” he reassured her, swapping her left hand for her right and cleaning that one too, dragging grit from the shallow wounds.  As he pushed her sleeve out of the way to get better access, he noticed the bracelet around her wrist and studied it, observing each of its charms carefully as he manoeuvred her hand.  They were like nothing he’d ever seen before.  “That’s quite the bracelet,” he commented.

She glanced down at it, her eyes incredibly soft. 

“Yeah,” she replied quietly.  “It was a birthday gift, from all of them.”  She seemed to consider that explanation enough, and her voice carried so much love that it was.  Four of the charms were almost identical, small golden stars, each engraved with a name: ‘all of them’ meant Aziraphale, Crowley, the Doctor, and Jack.  Alec had referred to the apparent complexity of the relationships between the five of them, and in the interactions he'd had the opportunity to witness, Mark had himself observed a closeness there that defied traditional notions of love and friendship.  They were a family, but also more than that or not quite that.  Although, since most of them, as he understood it, were not human, perhaps that made more or less sense than he imagined.  He nodded, continuing his work and allowing Zee the opportunity to continue gazing at the extraordinary piece of jewellery.  One of the charms, he could see, was a tiny replica of the Tardis, perfect in all its details.  Given the strange nature of the other charms, he rather suspected it might also be bigger on the inside.

“Do you know if they’re ok?” she asked, looking back up at him again.

Mark shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.  I’ll see if I can find out for you, though.”      

Once he was satisfied that the wounds were clean, he bandaged both hands very carefully, working quickly and efficiently, his professional instincts taking over and bringing calm to both of them.  “There,” he declared eventually, “All done.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he smiled, “You’re an excellent patient.”  A very small smile curved Zee’s lips, and Mark felt more satisfaction from that than anything else.  Giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, he leaned back, gathering the contents of Alec’s first aid kit together.  There was another patient he’d have to see to shortly, one with deep scratches to his arms, courtesy of the woman in front of him.  “I think a cup of tea is in order.  Best medicine after a shock, I always find.  What do you think?”

Zee’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead.

“You won’t… go?  Don’t leave me.” 

Her voice was so small.  It was devastating, and Mark wanted to stay.  He had another patient though, and this whole thing was not the fault of the confused man sat outside, blood streaked down his arms.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.  But…” – he held up the little bag of medical supplies – “my skills are needed.  I promise you though, you’ll be safe here.  Nobody but your friends can get into this house… and DI Hardy will not take any chances.  He’ll stay out of your way.”

“You’ll come back?” she pleaded.  “When you’re done?”

Mark smiled, nodding.

“Of course.”

He found Alec in the kitchen, leaning against the counter where four cups of tea were already steeping, his phone pressed to his ear, and an anxious expression on his face.

“Ok… I’ll let you get on then.  We’ll be fine…  Yeah, I’ll let you know if we need anything…  Call me when you come up with something.”

Absentmindedly allowing his phone to slip down onto the counter, Alec turned and reached for the milk, clearly intending to finish making the tea.  He was lost in his own thoughts and hadn’t noticed Mark’s presence.

“Hey… I’ll sort that.  Why don’t you sit down?”  Mark approached cautiously, not wanting to spook the detective by bringing him too suddenly back into the room.  Alec startled nevertheless, and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Kilgrave has Jack,” he stated, blurting the words out without context.

Oh.  Although he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, Mark understood enough to know that it was bad. 

“Shit.”

“Hmm.  That was Aziraphale and Crowley.  Aziraphale and the Doctor are back at the cottage, Crowley’s followed Kilgrave, so he’s keeping an eye on things…”  He was speaking quickly, the words pouring out as he apparently tried to process them himself and work through to a solution.

“You should really sit down; you’re very pale.”  Placing a firm hand against Alec’s shoulder, Mark guided him towards a chair at the kitchen table, settling him there before returning to the counter to finish preparing the tea.  Not knowing how everyone took it, but very aware of what they’d all experienced tonight, he heaped generous helpings of sugar into each mug, and pressed one into Alec’s hands, worried about the detective who was staring into space, brow creased with worry.  Crouching down in front of him, he searched out Alec’s gaze, keeping one hand clasped around his to steady the mug.  “I’ll take Zee her tea, and then go and deal with Gareth.  Will you be ok?”

Alec didn’t respond immediately, but after a couple of seconds there was a distracted nod.  Mark returned it with a firmer one of his own, squeezing Alec’s hand.  “Look at me, Alec.” 

Another couple of seconds passed before those big brown eyes met his.  They were wide, pupils blown, every detail more evidence that the detective was in shock.  “Good, that’s good.  Now, I need to go and deal with things, ok?  You just stay here and drink your tea.  I’ll be back soon.”

Alec nodded again, although Mark wasn’t entirely sure how much of his speech the detective had taken in.  With one last squeeze of his hand, he stood up, grabbing another mug and giving Alec a final concerned glance before leaving the room.

After a brief detour to deliver Zee’s drink and the news that her loved ones were safe, telling her that Aziraphale and the Doctor were back at the cottage, and more vaguely that Crowley was with Jack so not to worry, Mark took the final two mugs and the first aid kit and made his way outside.  Gareth was sat on the grass verge at the side of the road, unable to pass the gate and enter Alec’s home.  Alec had very quickly explained to Mark that this would be the case, although apparently the fact that his earlier explanations had been interrupted by the unplanned journey in a spaceship, albeit one that only moved them a few hundred metres, prevented Mark from possessing the contextual knowledge that would allow him to understand why. 

He accepted it though, because at this point, what choice did he have?  And he silently sat next to the man who was staring ahead of him blankly, much like Alec was, handing him a mug and taking a short, scalding hot sip from the one that remained in his hand. 

Alec had told Gareth that if he waited here, they would help him to deliver Zee to Kilgrave, once they’d taken care of both their injuries, and all had a bit of a rest after the intense altercation in the field.  Mark recognised the tactic, recalling being told that if he followed Aziraphale and stayed at the cottage, he would be able to talk to Alec, and he knew that Kilgrave’s instruction would be the dominant driving force in Gareth’s mind, overpowering any other needs or desires; he’d do anything if he thought it would help him comply with Kilgrave’s command.

“I need to clean those scratches on your arms, Gareth.  Is that ok?” he asked, once they’d both managed to drink most of their sweet tea.  Mark could feel the way it soothed his own shock, and hoped it was doing the same for the man next to him.  Gareth nodded, resting his mug on the ground and holding out the arm closest to Mark for inspection, the action seeming almost automatic as he continued to stare into the distance.

The scratches were deep, ragged tears beaded with blood, some of them gouges really; Zee had really fought hard, and Mark swallowed deeply, realising what that indicated about the intensity of her fear of Kilgrave.  He’d pieced together enough of the story in his mind to know that his own experience of the man’s power was nothing compared to hers, but blinking away thoughts of what that meant, he focused on the task at hand, reaching for the medical kit and ripping open another antibacterial swab, just as he had for her.

*

“Mark?”

Alec started, the quiet anxiety in the voice drawing his attention immediately.  He realised that he was still in his kitchen, holding a mug of tea, and tried to recall how he’d got there. 

Mark. 

He remembered the man guiding him into the chair and speaking to him; all warm, strong hands and soft words.  A blush crept over Alec’s cheeks; he’d tried to take control and fulfil his role as senior officer on the scene when they’d left the Tardis, but he’d failed in the end.  Mark was now the one making sure everyone was ok and going about his work professionally, while he was sat here struggling to process what was happening. 

“Mark?”

Still quietly hesitant, the voice was almost plaintive.  And it was Zee, Alec realised.  Which made it difficult.

While he considered how to respond, he drained his mug in a few long gulps, the sweet tea somehow restoring his strength and focus, as tea always did.  He knew that Mark was outside with Gareth, and that meant that the only person who could respond to Zee’s call was him. 

Tentatively, he moved to the door, peeking around it carefully, hoping that she’d have the presence of mind to remain in the living room.  Not that he could expect her to have anything approaching presence of mind given what she’d just been through… but he could hope.

It seemed she was indeed still in the living room, and Alec stepped out into the hall, approaching the door that Mark had left slightly ajar.  Hovering by it, he took a steadying breath. 

“Zee?” he began, his voice just as anxious and hesitant as hers, so worried that he’d frighten her. 

She gasped at the sound, and he thought he heard a gulp as she processed that it was him outside the door and not the man she’d asked for.  There was less obvious distress than he anticipated though, just some audible catches in her breathing. 

“DI Hardy?” she checked, quietly.  She could still speak, which was promising.

“Yeah.  Don’t worry, I’ll stay out here,” he reassured her.

“Where’s Mark?”

“He’s… just outside.  He won’t be long.”

There was a brief silence, as she considered the information.

“He’s with that man, isn’t he?  The one who tried to take me…”

Wincing, Alec sighed.

“Yes.”

The silence was longer this time, and Alec eventually decided that Zee probably wasn’t going to respond.

“Zee, can I help?  I know I can’t… well… but if I can help at all.  What did you need Mark for?”

“Oh.”  He heard her moving, the creak of the sofa telling him that she was sitting on the right-hand side of it, across the room from him.  “Um… I just… it’s not a problem, really.”

“It’s ok,” he insisted, “Can I get you anything?  I don’t really…”  He thought for a moment.  “I don’t have much in the way of food, but I could get you some toast… I’m sure there’s bread.  And there might be jam in the cupboard, from when Daisy stays.  Or… Marmite?  I have that sometimes, as a treat.”

He heard a snuffling from the living room that sounded suspiciously like a supressed giggle.  The sofa creaked again, and he listened as soft footsteps approached the door.  It opened a little further and a mug appeared in the gap, almost full.

“I can’t drink tea with this much sugar in it, sorry.  Could you… would you mind… one without?”

“Of course!”  Alec reached for the mug and took it from her hand, grateful for the task.  “I’ll just go and get that.”  He turned back to the kitchen, but then she spoke again and he paused.

“And… if there is some toast on offer, with Marmite?” she requested gently, amusement in her voice.  Alec smiled at the door, delighted by the interaction, which he hadn’t expected at all.

He prepared the tea and toast, scraping butter and then Marmite thickly across the surface just how he liked it, pleased that he could be useful, his brain much happier now it had something to focus on. 

While he’d heard plenty about Zee, he’d obviously kept away from her until now and not had the opportunity to speak with her directly, so he was very intrigued by the possibility of further conversation.  From what he’d heard, although subdued by her experiences with Kilgrave, she had a bubbly personality, was brilliantly sharp and smart, highly empathetic, and completely overflowing with a surfeit of love; she had an angel, a demon, a time-travelling alien, and an immortal human wrapped around her little finger.  And actually, the whole situation they were in was caused by Kilgrave’s obsession with her.

When she’d spoken to him, her voice had been gentle and soothing, suggesting that she knew this interaction was hard for them both, aware that her reaction to him when they’d first met was a looming presence while they were in close proximity.  There was a noticeable hoarseness in it too, presumably a result of her difficulties earlier; dragging air through her throat so violently, and screaming when she believed that she was going to be returned to Kilgrave.

Once everything was ready, he returned to the hallway.

“I’m just going to pop the things on the floor by the door, Zee.  You’ll be able to reach them easily.”

“Thanks.”  The word came from close by; she was clearly just on the other side of the door.  Once he’d placed the mug and plate on the floor, she took them, and Alec stepped back, meaning to return to the kitchen now he was no longer needed.  “Wait,” Zee added, “You can stay.  Keep me company.”

Alec was astonished.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  Just, keep the door between us, obviously.  But… you don’t sound like… you know.”

There was a crunch as she took a bite of the toast, and Alec shook his head, smiling at the door again. 

“Ok,” he agreed, lowering himself to the floor and sitting down, leaning against the wall.  He imagined her doing the same on the other side of the door.  “Um… how are you feeling?”  Worst question ever, Hardy… He grimaced, but had no idea what else to ask instead. 

Zee continued chewing on her toast.

“This is perfect!” she declared eventually.  “Nobody ever puts enough Marmite on…”

Alec chuckled, despite being aware that she’d completely avoided his question.

“Well, I’m glad somebody likes it,” he replied, still laughing to himself. 

“Oh yeah!” Zee confirmed, mouth clearly full of a second bite.  When she’d finished, there was silence for a few seconds, a subtle shift in the tension telling Alec that she had something to say but was hesitating.  He waited, and eventually she overcame her doubts.  “Um, detective?”

“Yes?”

“Will I be in trouble?”

His mouth dropped open, aghast.  For a moment, he was utterly unable to comprehend what she could possibly imagine she’d be in trouble for.

“For hurting that man,” she elaborated, obviously interpreting his confused silence correctly.  “I hurt him, didn’t I?  That’s why Mark is with him.”

Brilliantly sharp and highly empathetic…

Alec sighed.

“Of course not, Zee.  He was… well, it was self-defence.  You have two very trustworthy eyewitnesses to attest to that.  Besides, I’m not sure any of this will be going near a court.”  He knew he sounded a little bitter about that, and Zee apparently noticed it too.

“You wish it would?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Of course I wish we could bring… that man… to justice.  Properly.”

“Yeah,” Zee said quietly.  “Me too.”

That was interesting, Alec thought.  She was surrounded by people who could, he was sure, put a final, literal end to Kilgrave quite easily, but she would prefer justice…

“Did you ever try the police?  In New York?” he enquired without thinking, almost immediately realising that it was probably not the right time to be asking such questions.

“No.  I mean, I don’t think I was… I couldn’t have…”  She trailed off, taking a couple of deep breaths and a sip of her tea.  “I could barely string a sentence together logically, let alone answer police questions.”

Of course.  Crowley had talked about her mental state when he’d explained it all.  Just after they rescued her, her mind had been a mess.  And before that… well, she’d not have been allowed to speak to anyone, would she?

“Besides, if I’d come to you, as a police officer with no knowledge of any of this, and told you what had happened to me, what would you have done?”  She sipped her tea again.  “If I’d said that the man I’d been dating had used mind control to keep me prisoner, and then used that same power to rape me, leaving no marks on my body because he’d only had to say the right words and I’d had no choice but to submit to his will: if I’d come to you and told you that, what would you have done?  Would you have believed me?  Would you have helped me?  Referred me to a psychiatrist?  Marked me down as a time-waster?  What would it have been, Detective Inspector Hardy?” 

Alec swallowed.  He comprehended her point. 

Although he hesitated to admit it, before he’d learned all the things he’d learned this week, and seen with his own eyes the incontrovertible evidence of their truth, he would not have been able to believe such an account, despite his instincts and training encouraging him to always believe reports of sexual assault, giving them the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. 

“I see your point,” he admitted with a sigh. 

“Exactly.”

She took another bite of toast and then Alec saw the plate appear around the edge of the door.  “Have some toast, detective.”

“No, it’s ok.”

“Have some toast, detective inspector,” she insisted, leaving no room for objection and nudging the plate a bit further towards him.  He smiled, sighing again, but obediently taking a slice.   
              

Chapter Text

“I wanted to say… I’m really sorry.  I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been, when I reacted the way I did.  It’s not you.  You just… look like him.”  Zee was still talking quietly, and the genuineness of the apology made Alec’s heart ache.  It was so unnecessary. 

“It’s not your fault,” he insisted.

“Still.  That must have been distressing…”

“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed.  “My distress?!  You’re worried that I was distressed?”  He was incredulous. 

“You were only trying to help me, and I…” – she sighed, – “and then tonight, you did it again.  Thank you, detective inspector.  Really.  That’s… amazing.”

“Just doing my job,” he stated modestly.  There was a brief silence before Zee spoke again.

“I shouldn’t have been out there tonight.  I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

Alec hesitated slightly before asking, “Why were you out?”

There was another sigh and the sound of her shifting her position, trying to get more comfortable on the floor.

“I panicked.  It sounded like they were in trouble and I… I was so scared for them.  I saw Jack leaving, and I knew the Doctor had been found out, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t just sit there knowing they were all in danger.”

“But you put yourself in danger, Zee.  If the Tardis hadn’t brought us to rescue you…”

She made a surprised sound, apparently not having realised previously how Alec and Mark had happened to be present.

“The Tardis?”

“Yeah… it just brought us to you.  And I had this strange… awareness that something was really wrong…”

Zee laughed.

“She was talking to you,” she explained, “trying to tell you what was wrong.  Only she can’t really talk to humans.  A bit more clearly with me and Jack since we both have a small level of psychic perception, but generally, just a vague feeling like that.”

“But it… she… knew that you would need us,” Alec pointed out, confused.

“Yeah,” Zee replied softly, “Yeah, she did.  She knows everything, detective.  All of time and space, all that has been, all that is, all that could be.  Her morals and her choices are… not always the easiest to understand, but sometimes it’s clear.  She absolutely brought you to me.” 

Alec heard a gentle rustling; he couldn’t see it but Zee was taking her key out from beneath her hoodie.  Then he heard a little sound like a kiss, although he didn’t know she was pressing her lips to the small piece of metal.

“How long have you known all this stuff?  You seem very… well, like it’s normal to you.”

There was another small laugh from the other side of the door.

“The Doctor and his morally questionable sentient spaceship, I’ve known for almost a year.  I suppose I had it a little easier because I knew Aziraphale and Crowley for about eighteen months before that, so it didn’t all come at once.”

“Right,” Alec nodded, “yeah, that would definitely make it a little easier.”

“You’re struggling with getting it all at once, eh?” she asked, so much kindness in her voice that Alec’s heart ached again, and he began to be a little worried about it, patched-up failure of an organ that it was.

“It’s certainly… a lot,” he admitted. 

“I knew Aziraphale and Crowley for several months before they told me who they are.  But when they did… I held it together until I got home, and then I cried and cried and… well, it felt like my brain was going to explode right out of my head.  It turned my whole understanding of the universe upside down; heaven and hell, angels and demons, magic...  I got used to it though.”  Alec could’ve sworn he heard her smile.  “Until I met the Doctor, and that tipped everything on its head again.  Their understandings of the universe are… somewhat contradictory, so it can be challenging to reconcile sometimes.”

“So, how do you…?”

She laughed again.

“I take everything as it comes, verify with my own eyes, and accept that sometimes things don’t make sense.”

“I don’t like that,” Alec responded, a hint of grumpiness in his tone, making Zee giggle.  He snorted.  “I don’t…”  Running his hands over his face and back into his hair, he shook his head.  “It’s…”

There was shuffling again on the other side of the door, and then a small, pale hand appeared around the edge, bandage wrapped around the palm, but fingers stretching out as if reaching for something.  Alec stared at it, blinking. 

“Do you… need anything?” he asked uncertainly, “Can I get you anything?”

It sounded like Zee stifled another small laugh.  She wriggled her fingers.

“Your hand?” she suggested, a hint of teasing in her voice this time.

Oh.

She wanted his hand?  Slowly, he began to move it towards hers, then paused, worrying that his palm might be sweaty and wiping it on his trousers.  He inspected it, decided it was ok, and reached across, holding his breath as he tentatively clasped his fingers around hers, avoiding the injured palm. 

Her hand was warm, and she curled her fingers back around his, squeezing gently. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“If you need to talk about it, I’m probably the best person,” she offered, the kindness almost overwhelming again.  Alec swallowed, watching their hands, feeling the warmth and comfort of just that tiny touch flowing through his body.  It was… good.  He felt calmer.  And greedy for more, for an arm around him to reassure him that everything was going to be ok, or… a hug.  A hug would be… he didn’t think he’d ever needed a hug more in his life.

She couldn’t give him that though.  Holding his hand was already something that he thought her friends would find surprising, knowing that his hand would feel like another.  Perhaps… he recalled the way Mark had wrapped his arms around Zee earlier, offering her support and comfort and a safe place.  Strong arms; they’d feel so secure…

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he frowned.

“No… Zee, I’m supposed to be supporting you right now!  You’re not supposed to…”

“Oh, shut up!” she laughed.  “You clearly need it.  And I’m… I’m doing ok, actually.”  She sounded surprised.  “My brain is so much better able to process things than it was over the past few months.  It’s been improving so much, healing I suppose.  And Mark made me feel so safe.  And then tea… and toast.”  Another little laugh left her throat.  “And besides, you… you are… I’m not scared of you.  I know I’m safe in here.”

She shifted their hands, wrapping hers around his more fully, ignoring any discomfort to the grazes he knew must be throbbing beneath the bandage. 

“And talking about them is good,” she continued.  “It’s a good distraction.  So, ask your questions, detective.  Let me help you.”

Alec shook his head slowly, amazed although not completely surprised by this woman who was clearly almost as extraordinary as her… friends wasn’t really the right word, he knew, but he wasn’t actually sure what would suffice in its stead.  And perhaps that was the place to start…

“I think it might really help if you could just run through your relationships, the five of you… because I’m a little confused and it makes it difficult to get a grip on who I’m dealing with.”

Zee giggled again. 

“How much do you know about polyamory, DI Hardy?”

*

The force of Aziraphale’s angelic will had kept the Doctor sat in his chair throughout their long conversation with Crowley.  The Time Lord had glared at the angel the entire time, furious, but with an agony behind the anger that broke Aziraphale’s heart; he was so, so worried about his partner, knowing where he was and who he was with.  And when he’d learned that he’d cause Jack harm if he stormed in there to rescue him… well, he’d looked defeated then, in a way that Aziraphale had never seen before. 

But now they had a plan… sort of.  They at least had the beginnings of one, and most importantly something to do.  Something that was leading them towards rescuing Jack, which satisfied the greatest need in the Doctor’s hearts and allowed him to focus and act.

Leaving the cottage, they made their way inland along one of the narrow roads, unknowingly along the same route Zee had taken earlier, only they were headed for the field across from Alec’s house, to reunite the Time Lord with his Tardis.

“Doctor, I’m sorry that I had to… overpower you like that,” Aziraphale began as they walked hurriedly along the road. 

“I get it, Aziraphale.  It’s fine.”  There was frustration but also reluctant acceptance in both the words and the Doctor’s tone in saying them.  Aziraphale glanced over at his friend, trying to smile but only really succeeding in grimacing.

“We’ll get him back, Doctor.”

“He’s in pain,” the Doctor replied dully.  He could have been remarking on the weather, his voice was so emotionless.  “And there’s a… there’s a flicker of it, a sense of it that I pick up.  Each time he dies and comes back, it disturbs the time stream.  I’m a Time Lord.  I feel it.  He’s close enough that I can feel it.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, taking in the explanation.  He knew that Jack’s ability was something connected to the Doctor, and that the Time Lord had a particular awareness of it, but he’d not really understood how painful that must be until now. 

“Kilgrave has killed him seven times,” the Doctor added.

“I… I had no idea you… would know.  From here.”

“Yeah.”  The Doctor sped up his pace, not quite jogging, eager to make it to his ship.  Aziraphale hurried after him.

On their arrival, the Doctor immediately approached the console and crouched down, spreading his hands along the edge and pressing his forehead to it.  Aziraphale wasn’t generally as attuned to the ship as the others, but he was an angel; he could sense love, and the console room was full of it.  Closing the door softly behind him, he waited patiently while Time Lord and Tardis had a few moments together. 

Eventually, the Doctor stood, fiddling with some buttons and switches on the console.  Aziraphale stepped forward, running a hand over one of the coral pillars as he passed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for saving her.”  The pillar warmed beneath his hand and the angel smiled, directing a satisfied nod towards the console.  Then he noticed the Doctor was staring at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.  When their eyes met, the Time Lord motioned his head towards the comfortable sofa Aziraphale had equipped the console room with, and Aziraphale hastened towards it, understanding that he was delaying their departure.  Only once he was settled did his friend pull the lever to set them on their way.

It was an incredibly short journey, only across the field to DI Hardy’s house, but taken this way so that any spies that may have somehow found their way here would not be aware of their location.  On their arrival, Aziraphale immediately moved towards the door.

“I’m just gonna…” the Doctor said, gesturing to his outfit and appearance and then motioning towards the stairs.

“Of course,” the angel nodded.  “I’ll check on things here.”  He watched as his friend disappeared down the stairs, the Doctor’s slender frame appearing much heavier than normal, shoulders hunched and tense, movements stiffer than his usual elastic energy.  He looked older even, although that could just be the beard. 

With a sigh, Aziraphale exited the ship, recognising the detective’s kitchen (the Tardis less mischievously parked than on her previous visit), and setting off to find the current occupants of the house, his heart pulling him towards Zee with a quietly desperate yearning, after learning from Hardy what she had experienced tonight. 

He halted as he entered the hallway, eyes instantly landing on the detective, sprawled on the floor, leaning against the doorframe, fast asleep.  His hand was being held by another, a smaller one, that was reaching around the door.  Zee’s hand, the angel recognised, concerned by the bandage he could see, confusion knitting his brows slightly. 

That she had been talking with the detective was surprising enough, and implied by their presence together, but to touch him, feeling the painfully familiar fingers in hers… that seemed impossible… 

“Who’s there?”

The question was whispered from beyond the door, in a small, hesitant version of a voice Aziraphale knew almost as well as he did Crowley’s. 

“Zee, love.  It’s me,” he answered gently. 

“Aziraphale!” she exclaimed, still quiet but relieved now, almost excited.  “He’s asleep, isn’t he?” she added. 

“Yes,” the angel replied, smiling at the peacefulness on the familiar features in front of him.  He crouched down, placing a hand on the detective’s shoulder, encouraging the sleep to continue. 

“Good.  He clearly needed it.”

“Zee…?  Zee, you’ve had quite the night yourself…”  Aziraphale frowned at the door, frustrated by its presence between them, but very conscious of why it was there.  There was a brief silence before she spoke again.

“I’m ok, Aziraphale.” 

He glanced down at Hardy again, still sleeping deeply. 

“Can I come in, dearest?  You’ll just need to move a little bit.”

He watched as she untangled her fingers from the detective’s, and he heard her stand up, moving out of the way of the door.  Carefully stepping over Hardy, the angel pushed the door open just enough for him to pass through into the living room, and closed it behind him.  Zee was stood in the centre of the room, facing away from the door so she wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of the sleeping doppelgänger, but she turned when she heard the door close, her drawn, pale features brightening a little when she saw Aziraphale.

“Zee,” he uttered softly.

Her bottom lip quivered at the gentleness and love in his voice, and then she burst into tears, the pent-up emotions of the past hours forcing their way out finally as she collapsed into her angel’s arms, sobbing against his chest as he held her tightly.  He allowed her to cry, simply offering the comfort of his embrace, both in the form of his strong arms, and the additional strength of his angelic aura. 

Eventually, her outburst settled into occasional sniffles, and she relaxed in his grip, allowing herself to be guided to the sofa, where Aziraphale continued to hold her snuggled against him.  Once she had quietened completely, drawing back a little and curling into his side, he took hold of one of her hands, cradling it very carefully in his own. 

“Your hands…  DI Hardy didn’t tell us exactly…  Why are your hands bandaged?”

“I had to climb over a wall,” Zee explained sheepishly.  It appeared that she’d remembered that she shouldn’t have been outside, and was afraid Aziraphale might be upset with her.  He sighed.

“I’m not angry with you, love,” he reassured her.  “I um… I understand that you put up quite a fight against poor Gareth.”

“I hurt him, Aziraphale.”  Small voice again, and the angel could feel the guilt rolling off her in waves.  She gazed up at him, her dark eyes still glistening with tears. 

“Not your fault, Zee.  You were defending yourself.”

He pressed a little kiss to her forehead. 

“Mark said… that you got the Doctor out.”

“Yes, love.  I just left him in the Tardis.”

“I heard her arrive, but I didn’t know who would be…  She brought DI Hardy and the paramedic to rescue me.”

“Yes, I heard that.  She’s a remarkable entity,” Aziraphale commented with a touch of awe, and Zee nodded in agreement.  Then the angel sighed.  “Zee, dearest… I need to tell you something.”

She clearly caught the more serious edge to his voice and stared at him with wide eyes, anxiety tautening her features.  Aziraphale held her closer, adding a little magic into the hug to keep her calm. 

“Crowley is with them, keeping an eye on things and ready to act if they get out of hand.  And we have a plan.  We’re going to…”

“Jack!” she gasped.  “No…”

“Jack is unfortunately with him.  I’m…”

“But he… he knows…”

“Yes,” Aziraphale acknowledged carefully.  He observed the fall in her expression, the horror in her still-wide gaze, the increasing wetness of her eyes again.  “We have a plan,” he repeated, running a hand through her hair and increasing the calm he was transmitting.

She gazed at him worriedly, hesitating before delivering her next words.

“I still… I don’t like the idea of any of you… killing.  If there’s any other way.”

“Well… I don’t know…”  She’d expressed similar feelings before, notably in New York when Crowley had first admitted to her that he hadn’t killed the man.  But right now, their plan vaguely alluded to an assumption that Kilgrave must die.

“He’s not worth it, Aziraphale.  And I’d rather know that he’s living with everything he’s done.”

Aziraphale wondered if that would make a difference; if Kilgrave would ever feel remorse or guilt.  From what he knew of the man, it seemed unlikely.   

He kissed her forehead again, keeping his lips pressed against her skin this time.  Her guilt was overwhelming, rushing over the angel like a tsunami. 

“Sweet girl, it’s not your fault.  Please don’t think that.”

*

The Doctor felt much better for being more himself again.  Beard gone, hair rearranged into its usual messy spikes, pinstriped suit hanging from his slim frame, the satisfying grip of his Converse on the linoleum tiles of Alec Hardy’s kitchen floor.  Much better.

His head still ached, despite Aziraphale’s healing miracle, the wound visible only as a faint mark to his forehead, but the lingering taint of Kilgrave’s mind pushing back against his had left a different kind of scar, that throbbed through his skull and its contents like a third heartbeat.  The two usual ones were persistently tugging towards the town, desperate to get to the other half of him, to drag Jack away from his doppelgänger’s torture and bury his partner somewhere deep in the Tardis, safe and secure, where nobody but the Doctor could get to him, and he could stay forever, never dying, never coming back. 

The continued effects of the angel’s magic and the knowledge that Jack would cause himself such brutal harm should he lay eyes on him, were the only things preventing the Time Lord from running.  The plan they’d come up with had its risks, but it had a greater chance of avoiding Kilgrave’s trap and saving Jack from his horrifying instruction. 

It also helped that the Doctor had not felt the tell-tale shifts in the time stream that indicated Jack’s death and resurrection for a while; subtle at this distance but agonising nonetheless given what they meant.  He hoped that meant Kilgrave had decided to get some sleep, instead of staying up all night playing with his new toy.  Or maybe he’d already grown bored…   

Choosing to reduce the risk of Zee spotting him (and Zee… Zee was safe, probably in her angel’s arms, and that was so good, so important, because he wasn’t sure he could… if they were both… after everything, the thought of her being back in that monster’s thrall… he shuddered), the Doctor let himself out of the kitchen door into the small garden beyond, walking carefully around the side of the house to the front. 

Rounding the corner, he spotted two heads just visible over the wall.  The shorter, dark blond hair of Mark and the messy grey bun of Gareth.  He swallowed a little nervously, not having met the paramedic as himself, and recalling the awkwardness of their only previous encounter. 

As he approached, the blond head turned, anxious to see who was there, and the Doctor raised a hand in greeting, offering a slightly embarrassed smile and feeling the blush rise in his cheeks.  Mark’s brow creased, confusion in his eyes, followed by a flicker of understanding that barely lessened the bafflement.

“Hi,” the Doctor greeted him.

With a brief glance towards Gareth, Mark lifted a finger to his lips.

“He’s asleep,” he whispered and the Doctor nodded, acknowledging the point. 

“Sorry,” he replied in a softer tone, settling himself onto the ground next to Mark, who eyed him cautiously.

“The Doctor, I assume?”

“Oh yes, sorry.  The Doctor, yes.  I um… well… we have met.”

“Apparently,” Mark agreed, and the Doctor could hear both amusement and indignation in his voice. 

“Sorry.  I couldn’t… we had a plan, and…”

“It’s ok.  I get it.”  Mark chewed on his bottom lip briefly, eyes sparkling in the semi-darkness.  “You played him well.”

The Time Lord snorted.

“Apparently I got it all wrong, with you.”

“Oh,” Mark responded, surprise lifting his eyebrows.  “How so?”

The Doctor blushed. 

“Um… weeelll… I wasn’t as… he’d have just… I’ve been informed that I should have threatened you with arrest if you dared to continue flirting.  Instead of… well…”

Eyebrows still high on his forehead, Mark smiled knowingly.

“Flirting back?”

“I didn’t!” the Doctor protested, still whispering but only just.  His cheeks were burning now, the heat snaking down his neck towards his chest.  Mark nodded, still with that annoyingly smug smile on his lips. 

“Right, you didn’t.”  He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes now as if trying to reconcile some contradictory facts in his mind.  “Funny that I still think you played him well…” he mused.  Then his face took on a more serious expression.  “I’m sorry.  I heard that Kilgrave… your boyfriend…”

“Partner,” the Doctor corrected automatically.  “We have a plan.  Where’s the detective?”

“I left him in the kitchen.”

“Oh.  He’s not there now.”  The Doctor turned back to look at the house, as if it could tell him where Hardy was.  “Hmm.”  Looking back to Mark, he frowned.  “You shouldn’t be out here.  You should be inside, where it’s safe.”

“I came out to treat my patient,” Mark explained, gesturing to Gareth’s bandaged arms, “and then I stayed to keep him company.  He’s very… confused.”  He sighed.  “Zee wanted me to go back to her, but he was…  It scrambles your head, being under his compulsion.”

The Doctor recalled the polluting touch of Kilgrave’s mind and considered what that might feel like to humans, who couldn’t fight it the way he could, but could feel it tightening its hold over their minds, thickening amongst their thoughts and dominating them.  He nodded.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

Mark shrugged.

“I think I got off lightly.”  He met the Doctor’s gaze.  “I’m sorry for the way I was when we met before.  I’m not usually… I wouldn’t be so forward without a bit more invitation.”

The Doctor huffed, his blush brightening further.

“I didn’t exactly say no…” he admitted.  Mark shook his head, amused.

“It’s crazy, how much you look like each other,” he remarked, running his eyes intently over the Doctor’s face.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… an alien?”

 “Yep.”

Shaking his head again, Mark let out a long, slow exhale.

“I stepped inside a curious blue box… and ever since… nothing has made sense.”  He appeared to be speaking mostly to himself, but the Doctor responded anyway.

“Yeah.  That happens a lot.”

*

Zee was asleep, and after checking in with Crowley on Jack’s status, Aziraphale decided it was time to speak with Hardy.  He miracled a blanket and soft pillows for his partner, along with sweet dreams and restful sleep, and after a final kiss to her hair, he returned to the door, finding the detective still asleep on the other side. 

The angel moved into the hallway, stepping over Hardy’s sleeping form and crouching down beside him. 

“Detective?  DI Hardy, it’s Aziraphale.”  Gently shaking the man’s shoulder, he roused him from his slumber.  There was a little snort, and then a gasp, and then…

“What?!” 

Hardy sat up straight suddenly, eyes wide and alert until they landed on Aziraphale, at which point they relaxed slightly.  “Aziraphale,” he stated unnecessarily.

“Yes, detective.  I need to speak with you.  Apologies for interrupting your well-earned rest, but it’s rather urgent.”

The angel watched as Hardy blinked a few times, looked down at his hand where it rested on the floor, no longer held in the smaller, soft one it had been when he fell asleep, and then returned his gaze to Aziraphale, nodding. 

“It’s fine.  No bother.”

“Thank you.  Shall we go to the kitchen?  We’ll be more comfortable there.”

Once they were settled at the kitchen table, two mugs of tea in front of them, Hardy having barely reacted to the presence of the Tardis in the room, clearly becoming used to such things, Aziraphale began to explain the reason for the conversation. 

“Kilgrave’s instructions to Jack were very specific, about what he should do if he sees the Doctor, Crowley, or me.  However, they also left us wiggle room, since they specified the three of us by name.”

“So, you need me?”

“Please understand that you don’t need to do anything.  It’s dangerous, and we would never presume…”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’ll be protected; Crowley will give you the pendant so that Kilgrave can’t…”

The kitchen door opened then, and the Doctor appeared in the doorway, smiling when he saw that Aziraphale and Alec were there.  “Ah, Doctor.  Why are you…?”

“Went to check on the others.  Has he agreed to do it?”

“I was just about to explain…”

“What do you want me to do?” Alec repeated, directing the question towards the Doctor this time.

“Well, technically, it could be anyone, but you might confuse Kilgrave long enough to buy us the precious seconds we need.  And hopefully you won’t confuse Jack.”  The Doctor blushed.  “If anybody can tell us apart, it should be him,” he explained, the implied intimate knowledge of every little detail of his body making him flush brightly.  Hardy blushed too, realising the same thing, and the way Jack’s eyes would land on him, survey him in detail, and recognise the most subtle differences, the one or two additional lines in his face, the variance in age visible in their eyes, some mismatch in the way they held their mouths…  Jack would look and would know, that these were not the lips he’d kissed nor the fingers he’d held between his own, not the hair he’d stroked his hand through nor the neck he’d sucked bruises into the flesh of…

“You only need to go in there and hold Jack’s attention,” the Doctor continued.  “Kilgrave’s too.  Keep him busy fathoming out what’s going on.  He won’t be able to control you, and that should confuse him while we… well, while we deal with everything else.”

“But only if you agree,” Aziraphale added.  “You don’t have to do anything.”

Alec nodded. 

“No, of course.  Somebody has to do it, so it should be me; I can’t just sit here and let someone else walk into that situation.  And as you say, it makes sense, I have an… advantage, compared to anyone else.  Because of the… resemblance.”  He gestured between himself and the Doctor, scowling slightly at seeing the alien back in his usual attire, cringing at the idea of the ‘resemblance’ when the Doctor was back to his usual youth and prettiness. 

“Right, good.  Thank you, detective,” Aziraphale said, smiling. 

“You can call me Hardy, you know,” Hardy offered, flapping a hand dismissively.  “You don’t have to give me the title all the time.”

The Doctor smirked, not quite able to completely contain a huff of laughter, and Hardy glared at him.

“Such intimacy!” the Time Lord gasped, almost grinning, the smile dimmed only by the continued tension in his eyes, his desperate concern for Jack. 

“Doctor,” Hardy stated significantly.

“It’s my name!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, noting the typical doppelgänger bickering that had become such a frequent feature in his life ever since the Doctor had first clattered through the door of the bookshop. 

They were saved by Hardy’s phone ringing.  It was still on the counter where he’d left it earlier, and the three of them stared at it for several seconds before the Doctor picked it up and threw it onto the table in front of its owner. 

“It’s 'DS Miller',” he advised, “Bloody hell, your contact list is formal, DI Hardy.  Put her on speaker.”

With another glare at the Doctor, Hardy answered the call, obediently pressing the button for speaker.

“Miller?  It’s…” – he glanced up at the clock on the wall – “five AM!”

“Is it?  Oh!”  She seemed astonished to discover that fact.  “Well… good morning, Hardy.”

“You’re on speaker, I’m with Aziraphale and the Doctor.”

“Ooh, how lovely.  Good morning Aziraphale.  And Doctor, you’re no longer with Kilgrave…”

“No.  Back to being me again.  Too long in DI Hardy’s shoes was making me miserable,” the Doctor explained, smirking at Hardy again, although it didn’t reach his eyes.  Hardy folded his arms and rolled his eyes. 

“Right, well I was just talking about you actually.”

“Really?”  That seemed to catch the Time Lord off guard and he leaned over the table, staring at the phone intently.

“Hmm.  I was doing some research, based on some of the stuff we were looking into initially, before we met you lot.  Figured it could be useful, since Jack worked for that alien-hunting organisation.  Dealing with superpowered individuals requires an amount of thinking outside the box…”

“Ellie, who were you speaking to?” the Doctor asked, seriously, face now displaying all the tension he was feeling.

“UNIT.”

“Oh…”

“They know all about you.  I wasn’t quite sure if it made them more or less likely to help, once they knew you were involved…”  She trailed off, clearly still considering the problem. 

“Sorry… they’re…?”

“Oh, they were a bit unsure, not being an alien invasion or anything, but once I explained, they did say they could spare a small… well, unit…”  Ellie giggled, and the Doctor rolled his eyes, standing up again and rubbing his hands over his face.  “Anyway, they’ll be here in a couple of hours or so apparently.  They have a sound-proof cell that can hold Kilgrave while they work out what to do with him.”

“Sorry… while they work out what to do with him?” Aziraphale asked.  “What does that mean?”

“Well, the usual processes of the justice system can’t handle Kilgrave, with his power.  UNIT is separate to that anyway, so they can hold him indefinitely, for public safety, but he’s not an alien, so… not their usual area.  It’s unprecedented.  They’ll have a bit more paperwork to do.”

“But… they will keep him locked up?” the angel persisted.  “Securely… so he can’t just tell his guards to let him go?  If it’s safe… that would give us a way around… well, the more extreme option.”

“They know what he’s capable of,” Ellie confirmed, “so they won’t allow him back out into society.”

“Then we should take this opportunity.  Zee has on several occasions expressed a wish for us to avoid… what we thought we might have to do.”

“I agree,” Alec added.  “I’d rather see some kind of justice run its course if that’s an option.”   

The Doctor groaned.

“Yes, but we can’t just have UNIT coming in here with all their… guns and stuff.  It’s dangerous!”  Hands on his hips, he paced in small circles, humming as he thought.  “They could make things worse, barging in and waving those things all over the place.  We need to get Jack first…”

“Jack?” Ellie questioned, suddenly sounding anxious.

“Kilgrave has Jack,” Hardy confirmed. 

“Oh… oh, Doctor, I’m so sorry.”

The Time Lord flapped his hand towards the phone as if she’d somehow see the gesture. 

“We just need to get him out, and… we really need to get Kilgrave secured before they get here.  They… perhaps them taking him is the best option…” he admitted hesitantly, “but if they just wander in and try to use violence to overpower him they’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“The implication was that you’d be in command, Doctor.”

He stopped his pacing and stared at the phone.

“Me?”

“Yeah.  Seems that’s the way they do things when you’re involved.  They’ll do as you say.”

“Oh.”  He straightened up to his full height, rolling his shoulders.  “Well then, that’s not so bad.  But… we should still get Jack out first.  They do sometimes go guns first, orders later…”  

“Miller,” Hardy cut in then.  “You should know, we have Gareth with us here.  He’s ok.  Well, he tried to take Zee to Kilgrave and she… she fought quite hard.  But Mark is here, and he tended to the wounds, so… yeah, Gareth’s ok.”

“Oh.”  Ellie processed the information.  “Can I see him?”

“He won’t be free from Kilgrave’s control for almost a full day,” Aziraphale advised, “but he doesn’t appear to have any instructions beyond taking Zee, so I think it’s probably safe.”

“We can’t spare the resources to get her here,” the Doctor protested, keen to get Jack rescued before Kilgrave woke up and began killing him again, now that they had a workable plan.

“Doctor, it will take no more than a couple of minutes with the Tardis,” Aziraphale insisted gently, “Go and fetch her.  It will be good for there to be another person here, so that Zee will have company too.” 

The mention of Zee made the Doctor pause.  He glanced towards the door leading further into the house.

“You saw her?” he asked, eyes softening and his voice catching slightly.

“She’s ok, Doctor.  She’s doing wonderfully actually, considering what she’s been through.”  The angel reached out and took the Doctor’s hand in his, squeezing it gently, watching as his friend swallowed, nodded, and then turned to the Tardis. 

“Ellie, I’m just coming to get you,” he called, before disappearing inside.  A few seconds later, the ship dematerialised, leaving Aziraphale and Hardy alone. 

“You had the opportunity to speak with Zee, detective?” the angel asked, eyes twinkling as he recalled how he’d found them. 

“Oh.”  Hardy blushed, clearly remembering the same thing.  “She’s… Aziraphale, she’s everything you said.  You should be so proud of her.”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Oh, no.”  Hardy shook his head.  “I think it was more the other way around.”

The angel smiled, eyes crinkling happily as he tilted his head.

“Yes.  I got the impression that might have been the case,” he mused, more to himself than the detective. 

“We bonded over Marmite on toast, and then she explained a lot of things I was having difficulty with… about…” – he gestured to the world at large, – “well, you know… everything.”

“I quite understand, detective.”

Hardy smiled.

“No, Aziraphale.  I understand now.”    

Chapter Text

While he was preparing to leave Alec’s house, Aziraphale made a small adjustment to its wards, allowing Gareth to enter the small front garden but not the house itself, meaning they could offer him more protection while still keeping Zee safe. 

Once she'd arrived, Ellie sat with Gareth, leaning back against the wall, laughing at the idea of their ‘second date’ being at Hardy’s house of all places.  Knowing his orders, she insisted that Zee was still resting, but that they’d help him take her to Kilgrave soon, stroking the back of his hand which she was holding in hers, reinforcing the idea that he could trust her. 

Mark had gone back inside, finally returning to Zee as he had promised.  She was sleeping, and Aziraphale encouraged Mark to do the same, although the suggestion was met with an almost resigned shake of his head. 

“How can I sleep, Aziraphale?  My mind is racing with all the stuff I’ve learned.”  He fixed an intent look upon the man in front of him.  “And I know that there's more.  We got as far as you not being human…”  There was question in his tone, and Aziraphale realised that he had that half-fact, without its more definitive partner.

“I am an angel, Mark.  And if you would like to sleep, I can help you to do so.”  He wiggled his fingers, hoping the human might understand the implication.  Mark’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open. 

“Angel?  As in… heaven and wings and halo… angel.”

Aziraphale gave a small smile, and a very precise nod. 

"Although less of the heaven nowadays."  

Mark nodded back instinctively, although his mind was clearly whirring energetically in the background as he tried to assimilate this new information.

"Crowley?" he asked eventually.

"Demon," Aziraphale answered. "As in hell, although not really, and wings and… well no horns actually. His demonic form is a snake, so rather smooth and… slinky."

"That actually makes sense," Mark agreed, recalling the little he'd seen of Crowley's movements. Something approaching a smirk curved his lips at the memory.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

"That's my husband," he pointed out archly, raising a significant eyebrow. He was remembering how Crowley had come over all dreamy and silly when talking about Mark, and feeling the almost irresistible urge to roll his eyes.

The paramedic's face screwed up in confusion at that though. It took the angel a moment to realise why.

"Oh… um… neither angels nor demons have an inherent biological sex. Crowley is typically male-presenting though. The current female corporation is for Zee's benefit."

There was a slow, uncertain nod from Mark. Without several important pieces of context, Aziraphale could see that the explanation was rather lacking and potentially contradictory, but there wasn't really time for context.

"Would you like some help sleeping?"

Mark shook his head this time, sinking down onto an armchair.

"I'll be here if she wakes up," he promised, nodding toward Zee's sleeping form.

"Yes." Aziraphale cast a concerned glance in his partner's direction, moving closer to her, leaning down and kissing her temple. As he stroked a hand through her hair, he gazed at her with so much love, both worry and pride visible in his eyes. Mark smiled; he understood that the relationships between these new people (and he used that word, knowing it wasn't quite right), were complicated when viewed from the outside, but one thing he'd been sure of since that first meeting on the pier, was that there was love here; love like he'd never really observed before.

Straightening, Aziraphale set his bright blue eyes on Mark.

"Thank you. For taking care of her," he said gently. "I'd best be going. You'll be safe here, just don't leave the house."

He began to make his way towards the door.

"Aziraphale?" The angel paused with his hand on the door handle, turning to hear what Mark had to say. "Please take care of Alec. He's brave, but remember that he's human."

Aziraphale's smile was both soft and knowing. It made Mark feel very seen, and he blushed slightly. With a nod, the angel left.

*

Things were tense in the Tardis when Aziraphale arrived. The Doctor was pacing back and forth, hands thrust deep into his pockets, brows tightly knitted. Hardy meanwhile, was perched uncomfortably on the ship's original seat, eschewing the more inviting angel-miracled sofa this time. He was watching his doppelgänger carefully, clearly with some concerns about his mental state.

"Are we ready?" the Doctor asked, voice taut and deep, when he noticed the angel's presence, hurrying to the console and grasping the principal lever in a tight grip. Aziraphale strode up to him, placing his own right hand over the Doctor's, the other on his shoulder, and dipping his chin to seek his friend's gaze.

"Doctor…" The Time Lord reluctantly looked at him. "You need to be calm. For Jack. He needs you to keep your mind clear and focused."

His chocolate eyes glistened with emotion but the Doctor nodded, his body determinedly relaxing beneath the angel's hands, which wasn't ideal but was a start.

"Good. Now, let me sit down, then we can go."

With a last press of the Doctor's shoulder, Aziraphale moved away, taking his usual seat on the sofa. The instant he was sat, the Doctor pulled the lever and the ship burst into life.

Moments later, she landed, tucked in a dark corner by the bins behind The Old Oak. Aziraphale stood once the Tardis had settled, approaching Alec first.

"We will keep you safe, detective," he reassured him. Alec nodded, his expression fixed in a determined frown. Hesitating slightly, Aziraphale finally allowed himself to give the detective's shoulder a brief, gentle squeeze, before turning to the Doctor and quickly hugging his friend. "Stick to the plan," he warned sternly, hands still resting on the Time Lord's biceps. The Doctor scowled but then nodded, acknowledging the angel's point.

Seemingly satisfied, Aziraphale moved to the door, setting his shoulders carefully and taking a deep breath before opening it and stepping outside.

Keeping to the shadows, the angel edged around the building until he spotted Crowley, still crouched on the fire escape. A subtle push with his wings allowed Aziraphale to make the short ascent and join his husband, a sense of relief washing over them both at being reunited, even if only for a moment.

"How is he?" the angel asked, settling alongside Crowley, an arm placed gently against his spine, fingers playing absentmindedly with the long curls that fell in a ponytail halfway down it. The demon's face was tense, teeth gritted to hold in his rage.

"Fortunate that I'm here," he muttered in response. Aziraphale leaned forward to peer through the window, gasping when he saw their friend.

Jack was kneeling on the rug at the foot of the bed, his arms stretched out in front of him and holding the still-bloody poker directly above his left thigh.

"Jessica told me once, how much Kilgrave loves to keep his captives busy with predicaments, testing their stamina in following his orders. It's a favourite game of his."

"So…" Aziraphale prompted.

"Kilgrave's idea was that Jack's arms would get tired, and when he could no longer hold it up… he was to stab himself in the thigh. Then, he'd hold it up again, right thigh this time, only it wouldn't take so long because he'd already be tired, and he'd stab himself again. And again. And again. Alternating. Not quite dying. That was important, because he'd learned…" - Crowley sighed, - "he'd learned that when Jack dies, the orders die with him… so when he comes back, he's a clean slate, requiring fresh orders. He's had to refresh that irritating one about the wrench seven times. And now… he's put his phone in Jack's pocket and set an alarm to let him know if his pulse gets too slow, so that he'll wake up if necessary, if death gets too close."

Crowley's voice was emotionless, even just a touch dry. Aziraphale could also hear the satisfaction of a miracle well done in it.

"So you made it possible for him to hold it there all night," the angel stated proudly, stroking his palm along his demon's spine.

"All I could do, safely," Crowley said, clearly irritated that he could not do more.

"He'll know you're with him, Crowley, and he'll be so grateful," Aziraphale assured him, "Both of them will be."

"How is the Doctor?"

"He's… not coping well with Jack being here," Aziraphale admitted, "but he's largely recovered from his own encounter with Kilgrave."

Crowley smirked slightly.

"Angelic healing?"

"Indeed."

"And Zee is ok? You said Zee was ok…"

"She's remarkably well. Considering she's been face to face with Kilgrave and Hardy tonight… I…" - he hesitated, not quite certain of his next words - "I think perhaps the exposure has… Well, she's in shock, so maybe it's too early to say. But I was delighted by how calm and coherent she was."

Crowley turned his head, reading more from his angel's eyes than had been revealed in his words.

"That's good." Nodding, he returned his focus to Jack, as if the support of his gaze was necessary to help their friend. "Kilgrave is asleep in the bed," he explained.

"I'll keep watching," Aziraphale confirmed, "You go and set things in motion."

Reaching back, Crowley squeezed his angel's knee, before slipping down from the fire escape onto the ground below, a very brief flutter of his wings making his landing soft. Aziraphale allowed himself a moment to observe him before turning his attention to Jack. With a gesture, he sent a little miracle to ease the tension in their friend's muscles, noting the tiny nod from Jack, acknowledging the assistance. Aziraphale wondered if he could tell the difference in the feel of the miracles; if he knew that it was now the angel watching over him instead of the demon.

*

Both the Doctor and Alec were waiting at the far end of the walkway when Crowley entered the Tardis. The Time Lord immediately rushed forward, meeting the demon halfway as they fell into each other's arms, pressing their foreheads together.

'I've done everything I can, Doctor, I promise.'

'How is he, Crowley? Is he ok?'

'He's fine. You know Jack; stoic, steely.'

'But he's been alone, Crowley. He must be so scared… this is what I always worried about; him being captured by someone who knows, and who wants to be cruel…' The Doctor's thoughts were spiralling, and Crowley tried to calm him, hands in his hair, their lips almost touching as he began speaking aloud, albeit in a soft whisper.

"He's not been alone, Doctor. I've helped him where I can, and he's known that; he's known he's not alone."

Their heads still pushed together, the Doctor nodded, acknowledging the demon's words.

'Thank you, thank you, Crowley.'

Alec cleared his throat awkwardly, from his position a few steps behind the Doctor. When Crowley pulled his head back a fraction and leaned slightly to the left to look at him, he saw an expression of astonishment and pained confusion on the detective's face.

"Blurry…" Alec stammered, "You're all blurry…"

Smiling, the demon moved a pace backwards, keeping one hand on the Doctor's neck, but reaching up to his own with the other and pulling the Tardis key from around it. Then, shoving the key into his jacket pocket, he retrieved something else from the same place and held it out to the human. Zee's pendant dangled from his hand, swinging back and forth on its chain and twinkling in the low light of the console room.

"For your protection," he declared, locking eyes with Alec and giving the pendant a little shake. "Come on, then," he added encouragingly. The Doctor turned, keeping a hand on Crowley's waist, apparently taking strength from the demon's presence, and they both watched as Alec approached, took the pendant, and inspected it closely.

"This is the real one?" he enquired.

Crowley looked at the Doctor, eyebrows raised in question.

"Yep," the Time Lord confirmed.

"Kilgrave still has the fake," Crowley added. "He took it from the safe before escaping the cottage."

"So, he doesn't know we have the real one," the Doctor remarked. "That'll confuse him…"

"Hmm, we're counting on it," the demon agreed. "Put it on, then," he instructed Alec.

The detective fastened the chain around his neck, tucking the pendant carefully beneath his shirt so it was out of sight.

"Right, quietly into the pub now. Bodyguards first; I believe they're in the corridor outside the room. Alec, you'll keep them distracted while we deal with them. Then you'll go in."

They all shared a nod, and then left the Tardis, silently making their way to the pub's back entrance, which Crowley opened with an easy miracle while the Doctor was still fumbling in his pocket for his sonic, the demon offering the Time Lord a little smirk as he held the door open, and receiving a glare in return.

Tiptoeing upstairs, the trio made their way along a succession of corridors, until, turning a corner, they saw the couple from Hawthorn Cottage guarding a door at the far end. Crowley nudged Alec forward, and after a deep breath, the detective marched down the corridor, reaching for his badge (that the Doctor had returned to him, alongside his other personal effects), and somehow managing an expression of calm control and authority. His companions exchanged a look, eyebrows raised in mute surprise and pride, at the sight.

"DI Hardy," he announced as he approached, casually flashing his badge, "I'm here to see Mr Kilgrave."

"You can't go in there," the woman told him.

"You saw me earlier; I was with him," Alec insisted, easily slipping into his own role, previously played by the Doctor.

"Yeah, but… Lisa's right, we can't let anyone in," the man said, backing up his wife. "He didn't mention any exceptions. Just that if the biker arrived with the woman, we were to let him know."

Alec considered for a moment.

"I've seen them," he tried. "They couldn't get here, but I have important information about them."

The couple looked at each other, not sure what to do with that. Meanwhile, Crowley and the Doctor cautiously approached, taking advantage of the distraction.

"We can't… unless it's the biker… he didn't say anything about you." The enthralled guards both shook their heads, in agreement about their instructions.

"I really think he'd want to hear what I've got to say," Alec pursued.

"Oh!" the man exclaimed suddenly, hands reaching for his head. Lisa turned to him, alarmed, raising her own hand, clutching the small penknife, ready.

"Steve? Steve, what's wrong? What's happening?"

"Feels… funny…" he answered, clutching his head.

Alec turned to Crowley, noticing the grimace on the demon's face. Crowley was muttering under their breath, apologising repeatedly for the interference. Then the Doctor reached Lisa and stretched his hands toward her head, the woman flinching at the confident manner in which the stranger touched her.

"I'm so sorry," he said, as he pressed his fingers against her temples and closed his eyes in concentration.

Alec stepped back, giving them more room to work, and watched with bewildered curiosity. He had very conflicted feelings about this part of the plan, but understood it was necessary for the safety of the individuals, and was clinging onto that aspect to justify what was clearly non-consensual interference in their minds. Which would certainly be a crime, if anybody had ever thought it necessary to specifically make it one.

They'd decided against trying to directly alter or remove Kilgrave's instructions, because Crowley's experience of that was not positive, and they needed more certainty that they'd made getting past the guards safe before proceeding. Instead, they opted for making the humans sleep, which in Crowley's case meant instructing the man to do so, powerfully and persuasively enough to take precedence over Kilgrave's instruction to guard the room, and in the Doctor's meant performing the same coaxing action he'd used with Kilgrave earlier.

Both the demon and the Time Lord winced at the feeling of Kilgrave's power, Crowley remembering how Zee's mind had felt and the horror of what he'd encountered there, while the Doctor sensed the thick, suffocating syrup trying to flow into his own mind as it connected with that of the woman. He was successful first though, his own technique not having to override Kilgrave's orders, but simply triggering a physical response in the individual's brain. He cradled Lisa's body as he lowered it carefully to the ground, settling her against the wall to sleep.

It was another few seconds, Crowley's power crackling in the air around them as he gritted his teeth with the effort, before Steve joined his wife in a deep slumber, the Doctor stepping in to prevent him falling, and making him comfortable on the floor, on the opposite side of the door to his wife.

Crowley, the Doctor, and Alec stood in the corridor, staring down at the sleeping couple, just making sure. Then, after sharing a nod with the demon, the Time Lord ran back down the corridor at top speed, leaving Crowley and Alec alone.

Crowley stepped back, keeping out of sight to prevent any accidents. As he did so, he felt the buzz of a text message, and summoned his phone.

Aziraphale: Kilgrave awake. In bathroom. Jack has wrench again.

He swallowed, showing the message to Alec, and they waited, the seconds crawling by. After another minute, a second message arrived.

Aziraphale: Doctor here.

Crowley inhaled deeply, giving Alec a little nudge.

"Go on," he encouraged, "You know what to do."

Alec nodded, steadying himself with a long breath before reaching for the door. Crowley gestured, ensuring it was unlocked, and then Alec turned the handle and pushed it open.

The first thing he saw was Jack, kneeling in the centre of the room, the poker abandoned by his side, wrench clasped in his right hand, staring at him. As he stepped forwards, Alec's breath hitched… as Jack began lifting the wrench into the air.

Come on Jack, come on… recognise me… or don't recognise me… realise I'm not him…

Jack blinked. His brow knitted slightly in confusion. His hand hesitated.

The door to the en-suite opened and Kilgrave appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped when he saw Alec, frozen in place, unsure what was happening… or who he was looking at…

His eyes flicked to Jack, still holding the wrench halfway raised. Jack was looking Alec up and down carefully, drinking in every detail of his form; every inch of skin he could see, the exact shade and position of every hair, the way he was holding himself, the look in his eyes.

Alec's gaze had shot to Kilgrave the second he appeared, but quickly shifted back to Jack.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Jack mirrored the gesture.

He knew.

Jack lowered his hand back down to rest on his thigh, certain that this was not the Doctor, and therefore not a reason to follow the order to attack himself.

Kilgrave observed the scene very closely, watching both men.

"Not the Doctor…" he murmured. Then he threw the towel onto the bed and took a couple of steps forward toward Alec, cocking his head thoughtfully. "Really you this time, then?" he asked rhetorically. Alec was still staring at Jack, keen not to engage with Kilgrave too much if he could help it.

"Take the wrench from his hand, detective," Kilgrave ordered experimentally.

Now, that was interesting… because that was actually a good idea…

Alec leaned forward to take the wrench. He winked at Jack as he did so, once he was sure Kilgrave wouldn't see, reassuring him that it was ok to give it up, that he wasn't about to follow some subsequent order that would cause one of them severe injury. Keeping his own face unreadable, Jack allowed him to take the tool.

"Good. Now raise it up above his head."

Maintaining eye contact with Jack, Alec slowly began to raise the wrench. Kilgrave's lips began to curve into a satisifed smile.

"Excellent…" the man mused, relaxing slightly and sitting on the edge of the bed. Alec held the wrench still, in the requested position. A couple more seconds ticked by.

"Smash his skull please, Alec," Kilgrave instructed casually.

After a brief hesitation, Alec swung the wrench… but missed Jack completely, throwing the tool behind him and out of the door into the corridor, where a surprised Crowley instinctively caused it to vanish.

Kilgrave leaped up from the bed.

"What?!"

Still looking at Jack, Alec took advantage of Kilgrave's distraction: 'Eyes on me', he mouthed, before taking several steps backward, turning to Kilgrave now and drawing his attention further into the corner of the room, away from Jack.

"Yeah…" he said, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head, "I just really don't think that's something I would do. So, no thank you."

"Which. One. Are. You?" Kilgrave asked carefully, slowly, each word enunciated to its full potential.

"I'm Detective Inspector Alec Hardy of Wessex Police," Alec replied, taking his badge out again and flashing it professionally. His face had a stern expression, serious and focused. "We haven't met yet, but I know all about you. I have a very long list of things I'd like to talk to you about."

Kilgrave's eyes had narrowed, a frown furrowing his brows and curving his mouth downwards.

"No… because Hardy is human… Why can't I…?" He'd walked forward a couple of paces, but now he paused, passing his gaze carefully over Alec's body. Alec could see his brain working overtime in the background, and that was good… really good… he was concentrating on that and not on anything else…

For instance, Kilgrave wasn't concentrating on the fact that the window was fully open now, and he had his back turned to it, so he didn't notice that there was someone climbing through it. Alec noticed, but he kept his gaze fixed firmly on Kilgrave, not allowing it to waver for a second.

Kilgrave's hand reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Holding it up in front of him for Alec to see, he shook it, making the light shimmer off its surface. It was a pendant, just like the one Alec was wearing beneath his shirt. It was the pendant Alec had picked up, when Zee had dropped it on the pier.

"This," the man stated, "is the only thing that can prevent my power working on a human." He paused, thinking. "Apart from Jessica," he mused quietly, to himself now, realising that there were always exceptions to every rule. He shook his head. "No, she was special." He spat the word out. "You… you are just an ordinary man. In fact… you're not even that. You're a pathetic man, a weak failure of a man. So how can you…?"

Another pace forward, staring so hard that Alec thought his eyes might burn through him. Good… it meant he didn't notice the slow, careful movements as the fourth person in the room approached Jack from behind.

Jack's eyes were obediently still on Alec, understanding from the risky, mouthed instruction that it was crucial he didn't look anywhere else. He was waiting for something to happen, trying to remain relaxed so he would not be taken by surprise.

He could feel a presence behind him and focused on it. Then fingers on his temples. He fought hard not to react, keeping still, keeping his eyes on Alec.

There was suddenly a presence in his head, a warm, loving presence. The Doctor. He closed his eyes, understanding now. His Doctor was here.

The Time Lord set to work, delving into Jack's head for the first time, trying to ignore everything that meant and the horror of this being the reason why. He needed to find the instruction, erase it, and hope that Jack would listen to him instead…

Kilgrave glanced down at the pendant in his hand, running through what he knew about the Doctor having been in the cottage with him, and how he hadn't been under his control, just pretending… Alec witnessed the precise second that doubt entered his mind. He stepped back as Kilgrave moved closer, sensing the way the man's gaze was focused on his neck now, on his chest, wondering, questioning…

'That's it… eyes closed for me, Jack. Don't open them. That's really important.'

Jack nodded very slightly, knowing his partner would feel it because his hands were on his head.

'Crowley, you can come in.'

Crowley appeared in the doorway, which was behind Kilgrave now since he'd followed Alec so far into the corner, and seeing his husband, Aziraphale also began to follow the route the Doctor had taken into the room, meaning that both angel and demon were now present. Alec saw the movements in his peripheral vision and felt adrenaline rush through him, knowing that they were close now. He fought with every ounce of his willpower to prevent the relief that brought from showing on his face.

"Show me your neck," Kilgrave ordered between gritted teeth.

Alec's lips curved very slightly at the edges.

"Now why would I do that?" he replied calmly.

Kilgrave approached ever closer, eyes narrowed, intensifying his gaze into two sharp daggers, piercing into Alec's eyes, then slicing down to his neck. His tie, although in its typically scruffy and asymmetrical arrangement, kept his shirt snug, hiding the glistening links of the gold chain from even the most penetrating stare. But Kilgrave obviously knew, from the ease with which Alec stood in front of him and the casualness with which he'd treated his demand…

He held up the pendant in his hand, staring at it, futilely willing it to be the original, an unwonted doubt playing across his features, then fear as he began to realise how spectacularly he'd been played.

"It was a good copy, but not quite good enough," Alec pronounced, knowing that he no longer needed to maintain the charade. "And it never made sense, really, that you'd give it back. And… weeelll, you underestimated Zee. She really knows her stuff."

Aziraphale moved silently and elegantly past the Doctor, the Time Lord still kneeling behind his partner, fingers pressed to his temples and lips buried in his hair, maintaining the connection that was allowing him to guard Jack's mind. The angel joined his demon behind Kilgrave, just waiting for their moment, Crowley stretching out their long fingers repeatedly, concentrating, drawing power upwards from the ground beneath them.

"There's just one pendant, though," Kilgrave pointed out, clinging with confidence to his last thread of hope, "and two humans in this room. I only need to control one of you…" The very corner of his mouth curled, just the faintest hint of a smirk as he played the card that he thought remained to him. "Jack…"

Jack's head turned slightly, but the Doctor held firm, tightening his grip, lips moving in his partner's hair as he silently, telepathically begged him to ignore Kilgrave, to listen to him instead, to keep his eyes closed and not to move. He had some control now, although he'd not yet been able to find the instruction to erase it.

"Come here," Kilgrave continued, still staring at Alec, too arrogant to turn.

Alec smiled.

"I don't think so," he advised, shaking his head slowly.

Then Kilgrave's confidence faltered as he blinked, wincing with sudden pain. He stumbled forwards, the pendant swinging from his hand, caught by Alec as Kilgrave's fingers loosened their grasp on it. Behind him, Crowley was glaring at the back of his head with daggers just as sharp as those with which Kilgrave had previously observed Alec. The demon had entered the man's mind for the second time, knowing what to expect now, and having drawn additional power beforehand to ensure they would be able to dominate immediately.

"YOU!" Kilgrave growled as he staggered to his knees, trying to turn now, suddenly very eager to see what, or who, might be behind him.

"And not alone," Aziraphale very calmly added, a wave of his hand drawing the man's arms behind him and securing them in sturdy handcuffs. Kilgrave writhed, twisting around to see what had happened to him, before suddenly throwing his head back, crying out in agony as Crowley pressed ever deeper inside his head.

Alec stepped backwards, clutching the pendant in his hand and watching in horror as the angel and demon combined to secure their prey. He'd had a flavour of what Crowley's power could do inside a person's mind, the sharp pain of that pressure, squeezing, the sensation of your brain imploding beneath it… but what he was seeing now was clearly beyond anything he'd experienced. Crowley's power was crackling, little sparks of lightning appearing around them… and then a pair of wings, velvety and thick and massive appeared at their back, filling the room with an intense, almost blinding blackness, the tips of the longest feathers brushing against the low ceiling. The demon was… magnificent… and Alec's mouth dropped open, awestruck by the sight. Knees giving way beneath him, he stumbled back into the chair by the fireplace.

Kilgrave was struggling against his restraints, jerking and twisting, watched by Aziraphale whose face had taken on an icy, rage-filled demeanour, with all the power of his former-Supreme Archangel status visible, sparks flashing in his blue eyes as he observed the man who'd caused so much pain to every one of the beings he loved most in the world. There was almost a pout on his lips as he drew them together tightly, hands balled into fists at his sides. He wanted, wanted desperately, to put an end to the man in front of him.

Crowley dropped to their knees, right behind Kilgrave now, one hand reaching across to the man's head and sliding into his hair, pulling his head back and stretching out that long neck. Their power shivered in little sparks and flashes down their arm, sparking in Kilgrave's hair, each zap of demonic electricity making him flinch anew, and the man was angrily sobbing now, tears running down his face.

"You gonna… kill me… this time, demon?" he gritted out.

Crowley growled, tightening their grip and lifting their other hand, spreading it over the side of Kilgrave's face, and pressing their fingertips bruisingly hard against the man's temple, making Kilgrave gasp.

"Hell'ssss too good for the likessss of you," the demon hissed, rage elongating their sibilant sounds. "She'sss right, you'll ssssuffer more here."

Keeping his eyes carefully on his demon and their enemy, Aziraphale loosened the tightness of his fists and motioned with encouraging gestures towards the Doctor and Alec.

"Go back to the Tardis and get Jack to safety. Then follow the plan," he advised quietly.

Alec nodded, although he wasn't entirely sure his limbs were going to cooperate.

The Doctor shifted slightly, not breaking his contact with Jack, although the instructions he was telepathically communicating changed.

'We need to leave Jack, we need to get you out of here. Can you stand up for me? We're going to go to the Tardis, you'll be safe, Jack. You'll be safe.'

He was deep inside Jack's head, having pushed through the thick, gelatinous layer of Kilgrave's power to get there. It stuck to his own thoughts, grasping like strands of slimy swamp weed, pulling at him, covering him, sticky and clinging, but he was fighting it, reaching deeper, finding Jack beneath and holding onto him tightly, surrounding him with love, spreading himself around him as a barrier between his partner's consciousness and the polluting presence of Kilgrave.

When Kilgrave had tried to command Jack, the power had hit at the Doctor's mind instead, barely penetrating through to Jack's, defended by the stronger connection between the Time Lord and his immortal partner, just as Crowley had found his way to Zee in a New York hotel suite, freeing her so that she could be rescued.

They slowly stood, the Doctor keeping his fingers pressed to Jack's temples, guiding him to his feet and then pushing him gently towards the door.

'You're doing so well, so well Jack. I'm not going to leave you. I'll guide you, just keep walking.'

Alec pushed himself out of the chair unsteadily, overwhelmed by all the things he was seeing, the evidence of Crowley's power, the demonstration of Aziraphale's magic, the raw tangibility of the connection between the Doctor and Jack. Shaking, he staggered in the wake of that pair, following them out of the door and down the corridor.

Meanwhile, Crowley had refrained from increasing his power further but was still deep inside Kilgrave's mind, focusing his attention on the human's power and trying to find a way to go further than temporary nullification, searching for the source and a possible way to destroy it entirely.

Aziraphale moved around in front of Kilgrave, crouching down and observing his face closely. The man's eyes had been closed, screwed up in agony, but they opened as he became used to Crowley's continued presence, wide with fear but searching for a way out. There remained a determination, a relentlessness in them that frightened the angel; he saw that Kilgrave would never give up.

The man growled at him, snarling with mingled pain and anger. But Aziraphale never flinched. He simply fixed Kilgrave with an icy glare, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Angels have the power to smite their foes," he mused conversationally. "One snap," - he snapped his fingers loudly as if to demonstrate, and Kilgrave did flinch - "and you would be gone. Your pollution would be removed from the face of this Earth. Like a bolt of lightning hit and erased you from existence. Just like that."

He allowed the threat, menacing in the mildness of its delivery, to linger in the air between them, before smiling almost apologetically, although his voice remained cold.

"Fortunately for you, the woman I love has expressed a desire for you to face justice. She'd rather see you locked in a prison cell for the remainder of your days, trapped with your own thoughts. Why should you escape into the freedom of death while those who have experienced your appalling power have to continue living with the consequences of your actions?"

Aziraphale hated the way hope flickered in Kilgrave's brown eyes (so, so like the Doctor's… he'd not observed them at such close quarters before), and the way it indicated that he was right, the man would never feel remorse for his actions. He also knew that Zee was correct though; they shouldn't kill if there was another way. And Ellie's persistent research had provided them with a way.

"So, every day that you sit alone in your cell, you can thank her. After everything you did to her…" - Aziraphale's voice broke, the sparks in his eyes flaring brighter beneath the glisten of tears, - "Zee's remains a soul filled with love and hope. She is worth a hundred, a thousand of you, and you only continue to exist because she will not allow those she loves to kill on her behalf. And we respect her wishes."

Closing his eyes briefly to collect himself, Aziraphale looked at Crowley when he reopened them, his expression and tone businesslike now.

"Crowley?"

"I can't… angel, I can't destroy it without killing him." The demon sounded infuriated by the discovery.

"No matter. We should go now."

With a growl, Crowley leaned back, then effortlessly rose to his feet in one easy movement, dragging Kilgrave up carelessly by his hair and drawing a pained screech from the man. Once they were standing, Aziraphale wrapped a hand around Kilgrave's bicep, standing beside him.

"On my count, dear."

Crowley nodded.

"One. Two. Three."

Both angel and demon snapped the fingers on their free hands, and the trio vanished from the room.

Chapter Text

Alec had moved ahead, opening doors and making it easier for the Doctor to pass through, directing Jack towards the Tardis where she waited outside. Her door opened automatically as they approached, welcoming them back in to the safety she provided.

"Detective, I need you to go to the console," the Doctor instructed as he steered his partner towards Aziraphale's sofa. "You see the big lever we use to set her on her way?"

Approaching the console, panicking slightly at the idea that the Doctor seemed to be suggesting that he was about to fly the spaceship, Alec quickly ran his eyes over the banks of buttons and dials and levers. He soon found the one, having observed the Doctor using it several times.

"Got it," he replied, staring at it but not daring to touch anything just yet. What if he pressed the wrong button and they ended up on another planet?

The Doctor was kneeling on the sofa now, Jack sat in front of him, the Time Lord's fingers still pressed to his partner's temples.

"Good, that's good. Now just below it, you'll see a big blue button, can't miss it, just between the temporal velocity regulator gauge and the chameleon circuit modulator…"

"The what?! Doctor, I don't know what any of those things…"

"Doesn't matter… big blue button…"

Alec looked down and saw a whole bank of buttons and switches and dials… He stared at them, mouth opening with another question, but before he could ask it, the Time Lord continued...

"The chameleon circuit modulator is the switch with the red tape over it, not worked in centuries… you want the big blue button right next to it…"

Frowning at the console, Alec located the button, which was indeed blue although not, in his opinion, overly large in comparison to everything else he was looking at. The presence of the switch next to it, covered over with a section of coloured tape, hardly filled him with confidence about the secure workings of the ship, but it had transported them safely so far, so he just gave the tape a sharp glare and then focused on the button.

"Got it."

"Right, it'll set everything to return us to our previous location. So press it, wait for the dials at the top of that bank to change, and then pull the lever. Nice and easy, we'll be back in your kitchen before you know it."

Alec shot the Doctor a glare similar to that with which he'd just attacked the broken chameleon thingummy.

"Easy as that?" he questioned, an expression of complete bewilderment replacing the glare. "You're asking me to… you want me to… drive this thing?!"

"Detective Inspector Hardy. I am currently a little busy trying to prevent the man I love from beating himself to death with the nearest wrench if he should happen to lay eyes on me. I cannot remove my hands from their current position without risking his life. And all I want you to do is press that button, watch the dials above until they settle, and then pull that lever. Please!"

Alec's eyes flicked down to Jack, still resolutely keeping his eyes closed, his hands now over the Doctor's, holding them in place. Then the detective nodded, eyes wide with trepidation, and slowly turned his gaze back to the console. His hand was shaking as he held it out towards the button, and he inhaled deeply, trying to slow everything down, trying to feel in control. Blue button… dials… lever.

He noticed that the Doctor was watching him intently, mouth pressed into Jack's hair again, but his eyes fixed on Alec, willing him to do this.

A shaking finger reached down and with one more deep breath, he pressed the button. The dials at the top of the bank began whirring, symbols spinning around and changing, but they quickly settled and stilled. He glanced at the Doctor, who nodded encouragingly, and then he grasped the lever tightly in his hand. Before he could think about it too much, he pulled, clinging onto the edge of the console with his free hand as the ship burst into life in its usual, shuddering, noisy way.

A moment later, the shuddering and wheezing ceased, the lights on the console dimmed, and Alec knew (because he was getting irritatingly used to this by now), that they'd landed.

"You can head out," the Doctor advised. "We'll follow in a minute."

Nodding, Alec headed for the door, glancing back before he opened it, and observing that the Doctor had slipped down onto the floor, kneeling in front of Jack now, fingers still as they were before, but presssing their foreheads together. He didn't understand it, but he knew that the Doctor was trying to undo the instructions that Kilgrave had placed inside Jack's mind. It was completely beyond his comprehension, all the things these people could do. Images of wings and magic and Kilgrave's body writhing in agony appeared in his mind…

But, he'd also just flown a spaceship, so perhaps he could do crazy things too.

With a shake of his head, he opened the door and stepped out into his kitchen. He'd not flown the spaceship far, but it had landed exactly where it was supposed to, so he counted that as a win.

*

'You can help, can't you?' the Doctor pleaded, directing his thoughts to the Tardis. 'I just need to find the instruction but it's somewhere in all this… mess…'

He felt the warmth of her presence wrapping around them, both her boys, her Time Lord and his irritating Fixed Point of a partner who she actually loved because he made her Time Lord so happy and took care of him so well.

The warmth flowed through them, like a breeze through the fog, clearing some space for the Doctor to search, and at the ship's direction, he aimed towards the place where the gloop was thickest, the spot where Kilgrave's influence had taken most. They worked together, the Tardis guiding her Time Lord, providing him with a clear way ahead, and him following, treading carefully, because this was Jack's mind and it was special and he shouldn't really be here.

He could feel Jack's consent, and more than that, his gratitude, but still, he focused on what was necessary, determined not to invade Jack's privacy any more than he absolutely had to, entirely focused on his partner's safety.

Eventually, he reached the deepest part of the swampy mire Kilgrave had created, his grasp on Jack's mind feeling somewhat tenuous, slippery and uncertain, despite the efforts of the Tardis. And here he saw the things that Kilgrave had commanded. He saw the violent ways in which Jack had been ordered to kill himself, the thrust of the poker, the repetition as Kilgrave delighted in the novelty of a toy with so much possibility. Anger roared up inside inside him, raw and hot and vengeful.

The scars of those deaths were also here. He knew that every death left a mark; Jack would always say that he was ok, but the Doctor knew better. Only, he'd never seen it before, and he paused, hearts breaking, quivering with fury, knowing that this was merely a small example. Throughout Jack's memories, there would be many, many more scars like this, endless ones from the Valiant… Each was a constant reminder of the pain, the greater or lesser suffering of each death and the agony of each resurrection. Jack never forgot any of them.

And then he felt a little nudge, almost like a gentle hand taking hold of his. It was Jack, he realised.

'It's ok, sweetheart.'

Somewhere, very far away, he could hear sobbing, and knew that it was him, his own body, somewhere on the outside of them. But with Jack's hand in his, and the Tardis showing him the way, he knew he could do this. He was almost there.

Picking through the instructions, past the violent ones and the simple ones, Jack dragging him quickly past that 'STOP!' when he'd tried to get to Zee… he eventually found the right one. It was hard to hold onto the specific memory; it kept slipping through his fingers as he tried to keep it still, coated in a thick layer of that syrupy mess that Kilgrave left behind, but he tried so hard and found a way and it slowly settled in his grasp.

He cut the connection, separating it from Jack's mind and effectively erasing it.

With a sigh, he rested a moment, relief flooding through them both. He could feel Jack's love surrounding him, reassuring. And then he slowly started to pull back, easing himself out of Jack's mind.

The Tardis was still holding them both, calming them, and neither of them had really moved. The Doctor had lowered his hands to Jack's face, cupping his jaw and sliding his fingers back over his neck, brushing against his ears, but their heads were still pressed together.

"Thank you," Jack whispered.

"I love you," the Doctor responded, the only words that seemed to matter right now.

Jack wrapped his arms around the Time Lord's body, pulling him up onto the sofa and into his lap.

"I love you too, Doc. So much, sweetheart." Adjusting the angle of his head slightly, he kissed the Doctor gently.

They could only allow themselves a short time though, because there was still work to be done, and soon the Doctor slipped back, standing. He looked down at his partner.

"Open your eyes, Jack."

Slowly, Jack did so, gazing into the Doctor's eyes. And he felt… only love. No urgent need to find the right tool, no terror or conflict. Just love.

"You did it," he said.

"Weeelll… you helped. And she did." The Doctor circled his finger in the air to indicate the ship. She hummed happily, pleased that her boys were ok. "And now I have to go and deal with him," the Time Lord added, voice deepening to a low, serious tone.

*

"ETA on UNIT approximately thirty minutes," Ellie stated as she lowered her phone from her ear. She was stood in Alec's front garden, the DI himself at her side with his arms folded and a severe frown on his face.

Behind them, wrapped in a blanket, Gareth was asleep.

"They're a bit… shady though, UNIT," Alec commented. "No-one's really sure what exactly they do or who they report to."

"Nobody else has the tech to deal with Kilgrave," Ellie shrugged.

"Hmm. It's this or…"

"Kill him." She turned, looking at Alec seriously. "They're our best option."

"Only option," he clarified.

Movement caught their eyes then. They both blinked, quickly glancing at each other and then back to the three figures that had suddenly appeared in the field across the road.

"What the…" Ellie gasped.

"They just… appeared…" Alec murmured.

"Oh yeah, they can do that," Ellie said absently, "Keep up. But… look at those… wings!"

"Oh… Crowley, yeah. They're… smaller, out in the open." There was a brief silence as they observed the magnificence of Crowley's wings, fluttering and shimmering with a subtle iridescence in the breeze blowing in from the sea.

"Is that… him?" Ellie asked, finally dragging her eyes away and lowering them to the ground next to the demon.

"Yeah."

Even at a distance, they could see the figure on his knees, arms secured behind his back. Crowley still had a hand tangled in his hair, while Aziraphale had stepped away and was glaring down at him, arms folded.

"I need to… I know it probably won't help, but there are things I need to know," Alec stated. It almost sounded to Ellie like he was asking for permission, and she looked at him, watching as he observed Kilgrave with narrowed eyes.

"Go on," she encouraged, nudging his shoulder. "You should go, while you have the opportunity."

Alec met her eyes, questioning, and she nodded, giving him another nudge. He stumbled slightly and glared at her, but then looked back over to the field again, humming to himself as he strode towards the gate.

"Be careful, Hardy," Ellie called after him. He paused with his hand on the gate, turning back.

"Yeah. You stay safe, Miller. Stay here."

She nodded, motioning for him to go and then folding her arms as she watched.

Alec walked steadily towards the angel, demon, and their captive. Crossing the road at an angle, he reached the gate to the field and passed through it, eyes never leaving Kilgrave as he approached.

Crowley noticed him first, but it was Aziraphale who greeted him.

"Detective?"

"I want to ask him some questions," Alec announced. The angel's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but then he smiled and nodded.

"Of course." He stepped back further, leaving space for Alec to stand in front of Kilgrave, arms folded in front of his chest, looking down at him warily but curiously.

Kilgrave gazed up at him, his face blotchy, still with the marks of tears down it, but forced to look up by Crowley's hand tugging back on his hair. He was clearly in a lot of pain from the continued presence of the demon inside his mind, subduing his power. Although Crowley didn't appear to be enjoying the experience either if the tense twitch in his jaw was anything to go by.

"Crowley, you don't need to…"

"It's safer," the demon growled.

"I'm not conducting this interview under torture," Alec asserted, gaze pleading with Crowley.

Aziraphale moved closer to the demon, reaching a hand out to their arm gently.

"Crowley, dear… give yourself a break. He'll be numbed for a while now anyway."

Reluctantly, but in obedience to the angel, Crowley pulled their hand away, shoving Kilgrave's head forward as they did so. At the same time, the magnificent wings vanished, tucked away into the plane they usually existed in. Alec caught a little smile on Kilgrave's face, and a loosening of his shoulders, relaxing slightly as the demon's power retracted. A shudder ran through the detective at the sight.

"Thank you."

Alec continued to watch Kilgrave, and eventually the man lifted his eyes again, returning his gaze. It was piercing, intimidating, and rendered uncanny by the similarity to what Alec would see when he looked into a mirror. The detective swallowed deeply and then cleared his throat, gathering his questions in his mind.

"You clearly have a very powerful ability, um… Mr Kilgrave."

"Just Kilgrave," the man responded with a saccharine smile.

"Right… and for the record, when I write this whole thing up. Your real name is Kevin Thompson, yes?"

The smile dropped instantly, Kilgrave almost flinching at the utterance of that name.

"That person is dead," he stated coldly.

"Missing, actually. According to police records."

"Dead, I can assure you. His parents murdered him. I know, because I was there."

Alec blinked at the man. The voice was still cold, completely devoid of emotion, but behind the eyes he could see a burning, hot anger. Swallowing again, he nodded.

"Ok. So, Kilgrave then. I've heard many allegations against you, but I want to start with the things that have happened here, in Broadchurch. We could take the most recent… you repeatedly murdered a man named Jack Harkness. And I can attest as an eyewitness to the fact that you attempted to murder him again less than half an hour ago."

"He never stays dead, so I'm not sure it really counts as murder. Would the prosecution be calling the victim as a witness at my trial, detective?" The sweetness was back, in the smile curving his lips and the tone of his voice, which dripped in a syrupy, oversweet quality.

"The circumstances are unusual, admittedly, but I have an eyewitness to each of those murders. They're stood behind you."

Kilgrave raised an eyebrow at that.

"I assumed they must have been watching," he responded nonchalantly. "It doesn't change anything. Your murder victim isn't dead."

"The attempted murder then" Alec persisted. "That won't be a problem. It's perfectly reasonable for the victim to be present in that instance."

"Ah, but detective inspector, I think generally speaking, the person actually performing the act of smashing the victim's skull is regarded as the perpetrator. And, due to circumstances beyond my control, no such act actually took place, so at the very best, you may have a threat against this Jack Harkness's life."

"All the other times you murdered him, then. Those could be classed as attempted murder…"

"Attempted suicides, every one. Your eyewitness will I'm sure agree that on each occasion, the individual wielding the weapon was Mr Harkness himself."

"Captain Harkness," Crowley growled, the only response the demon deigned to provide him with.

"Catherine Jarvis of East Cliff Cottage," Alec stated then.

"Oh, a lovely lady," Kilgrave sighed, painting a theatrical sadness onto his features. "So sad, what happened to her. Another suicide…"

Alec's mouth curved slightly at the corners.

"She's not actually dead," he informed him.

And that surprised Kilgrave. Genuine astonishment appeared on his face for a moment, and then…

"Oh… of course. Because he was pretending." His brows knitted in confusion. "But, there was an ambulance, police presence, a tent…"

"We had to let you think that your order had been carried out. She had a shock, a bit of a fall, but an angel caught her, and she's recovering well in hospital."

"But…" - Kilgrave was spluttering now, angry and confused - "how? How did you know?"

Alec smiled.

"Now that would be telling," he answered. He let the words hang in the air, enjoying the frustration on Kilgrave's face, before pressing forward with the interview. "I've been giving a lot of thought to some of your other actions. There are some instances of theft that are quite straightforward…"

"People give things to me, I can't help it," Kilgrave interrupted.

"Oh, shut up!" Alec replied, exasperated. "None of this is actually going near a court! I'm not stupid! I just… I needed to work it out, follow it through, rationalise what you've been doing in my town." As he'd become more angry, spitting out his words, Alec's hands had dropped to his hips, but he folded his arms in front of him again before continuing more calmly.

"So, coercive control. That's for James and Charlotte Wilson, Gareth O'Brien, Kate Thompson, Lisa and Steve Campbell, and…" - he swallowed again, - "Mark Davies."

"I have no idea who most of those people are," Kilgrave smirked, rolling his eyes.

"You'd know their faces," Alec advised, ignoring the attitude. "And then there's harrassment and attempted abduction. Those ones…"

"My beloved Zee," Kilgrave interrupted again. "Speaking of which…" He glanced around him, noting their location. "She ran off in this direction…"

"She's safe," Alec asserted. "And that's all you get to know."

Kilgrave became distracted then, looking behind Alec. Turning to see what he was looking at, the detective saw the Doctor approaching them, hands deep in his pockets, glaring at Kilgrave with something akin to a raging storm in his eyes; eyes that normally looked so similar to his own, and to those of the man he was glaring at.

Kilgrave smiled.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "The Doctor, I assume? So lovely to meet you in your own guise at last. You appear to have recovered well from our last meeting…"

"You will not speak," the Doctor cut in, voice deep and low. Alec had never heard it that way before. It was very intimidating, and a reminder that this man, although young and unassuming in his appearance, was not of this world, and was in fact ancient and powerful and alien.

Alec moved to the side, not wanting to get in the way of those eyes, and allowing the Time Lord access to Kilgrave, who had become very silent, no longer even smiling, but looking up at his doppelgänger almost fearfully. Even Aziraphale seemed to draw back under the power of the Doctor's gaze. Only Crowley truly held their ground.

The Doctor approached close to Kilgrave, crouching down in front of him.

"You keep hurting my loved ones," he said, voice still just as deep, low, frozen as before, "And do you know what that makes me feel?" Kilgrave remained completely still, although the question was probably rhetorical anyway. "It makes me feel angry."

The Doctor appeared to regard that as enough of a threat on its own, which Alec thought was reasonable given the look in his eyes. He watched as the Doctor finally tore his gaze from Kilgrave, glancing briefly up to Crowley who nodded in response to some unspoken question. Then, the Time Lord returned his focus to the man in front of him.

Leaning forwards, he lowered himself onto his knees, although not fully kneeling, remaining upright so he was still looking down at his doppelgänger. Slowly, he lifted his hands to the man's head, pressing his fingers to his temples just as he had done with Jack a little earlier. Only this time, both the alien and the human flinched at the contact, the Doctor having to reassert his grip to maintain it, remaining thumbs and fingers spreading over Kilgrave's face to strengthen his hold.

"Get out," Kilgrave growled.

"Make me," the Doctor returned, his own voice also nothing but a low growl by this point.

Alec saw Aziraphale turning to Crowley in panic. 'What's he doing?' the angel mouthed, but Crowley shrugged, shaking their head. Clearly this wasn't part of any plan.

"I will prevent you… from ever… hurting them… again."

Crowley was staring at the Doctor, golden eyes burning desperately. It looked like they were trying to communicate with him.

"Crowley! Get out!" the Doctor shouted, only increasing the intensity of his grip on Kilgrave, and the demon grimaced, jerking backwards as if they'd been burned, a panicked expression on their face.

Angel, demon, and detective could only watch on as the Time Lord attempted to assert his dominance over their captive.

*

Ellie could see that things were not right. She'd felt it as soon as the Doctor strode past her towards the field, but now it was clear that he was acting on his own authority and no longer following the plan. The others were watching him and she could feel the panic from her own vantage point in Alec's garden, hearing it in the anguished shout of the Doctor.

Then her attention was pulled away, as she heard an altercation behind her, coming from inside the house.

"Let go of me!" That was Jack, the American accent easily recognisable.

"You have to stay here! For your safety!" And that was Mark.

"You don't know anything!"

"I know he told you to stay put and he was very serious when he said it!"

A door slammed into a wall and Ellie could swear she saw the whole house shake. The sounds of the scuffle were closer now and she moved towards the front door, instincts as a police officer taking over.

"You. Don't. Understand!"

"We both know what that man can do… I can't just let you go!"

Ellie opened the door and saw that Mark had Jack pinned against the wall in the hallway. Jack was fighting against his grip, wriggling and struggling, but Mark was bigger than him, and strong.

"I think we all need to calm down," Ellie advised in her best combination of police officer and mum voice, arms folded across her chest.

"He's going to hurt himself!" Jack cried desperately, still fighting against Mark's grasp, although he wasn't getting anywhere, because Mark was using his whole body to pin Jack in place.

"I've got this," Mark assured her, "He's not going anywhere."

Ellie smirked.

"I can see that."

Then the smirk was wiped off her face in an instant as Zee appeared in the open doorway, steely determination in her eyes and seemingly oblivious to the three of them. She ran past the two men before they could even process her presence, and agilely evaded Ellie's outstretched hands as she made her way hurriedly towards the gate.

"Zee!" all three of them shouted, Mark relaxing his grip now as Jack was no longer the most pressing matter. Jack shrugged him off easily and hastened after his friend, new fear for her only adding to his original terror for his partner. Ellie too was in pursuit of Zee, and Mark followed, growling in frustration at the endless demonstrations of stupidity on display.

The commotion had also, it appeared, woken Gareth, who spotted Zee and jumped up, eyes set on his target. He only managed a couple of strides forward however, because Mark noticed and grabbed him before he could leave the garden, wrestling him to the ground and pinning him there, looking desperately over the wall as he continued to press his weight over the other man's body.

"Zee, you cannot go there!" Jack yelled after his friend, but the woman was in her own world, not hearing the desperate attempts of her friends to stop her. Her eyes were burning bright, fixed on Kilgrave now, as she ran towards the group in the field.

"Zee! Come back here!" Ellie tried. "It's not safe!"

The shouting and movement had attracted the attention of some of the others, Aziraphale and Alec both fixing horrified gazes on the approaching woman.

"Zee! Zee, love! No!" Aziraphale ran towards her.

She ignored him, still fixated on Kilgrave. Her breathing was coming fast now and she was shaking, but it didn't deter her progress, even as the angel tried to grab hold of her. She wriggled away from his grasp, and he didn't pursue the attempt, too afraid of hurting her.

Crowley had been too focused on the mental tussle taking place on the ground to notice anything else, until Zee got close enough to enter into the periphery of their vision.

"Zee!" the demon cried out, shocked to see her here.

The repetition of her name, called out close by, seemed to distract both the figures on the ground. Both twitched, drawing apart slightly, seemingly desperate to turn away from each other and give their attention to her, but neither allowing the other to do so, keeping them both just as involved in their duel as before.

She reached them, and threw herself to her knees behind the Doctor, wrapping her arms around him and trying desperately to pull him back. There appeared to be an exchange just as desperate taking place inside the heads of the two doppelgängers, their bodies almost vibrating with the energy they were expending, both gritting their teeth as they fought.

Then the Doctor jerked suddenly, throwing Zee off and back onto the ground. Crowley ran around, although by the time they reached her she'd already been helped back onto her knees by Alec, who remained carefully out of her line of sight, holding her arms as she regained her balance. When the demon arrived, he retreated, allowing them to take over, but he kept a close watch on Zee, and his hands instinctively moved to his neck, fingers grasping at the chain and pulling it out from beneath his clothes.

"Zee, you shouldn't be here, sweetheart!" Crowley ran his hands up and down her arms, clinging to them and begging her to listen.

"He can't fight him!" she sobbed, voice somewhere between a whine and a growl. Tears poured down her cheeks and she was desperate, still staring fixedly at Kilgrave. "You know he can't, Crowley."

The demon paused on hearing Zee's words, looking between her and the still-battling pair, and recalling what he'd experienced when the Doctor had entered Kilgrave's mind before, when he was taking the key. The way it had felt, the way the Doctor's mind always felt, the way the Time Lord's power worked.

Crowley had no idea how Zee was so sure, but she was right.

The Time Lord's telepathy was too reciprocal, too much of a communion between two minds… while the demon could dominate Kilgrave's consciousness, the Doctor would be connecting with it, and that was so, so dangerous.

Putting his body between Zee and the danger, Crowley pushed his own mind towards that of his friend, trying to regain a foothold, entering on the invitation of their bond which wanted him there, even if the Doctor didn't right now.

'Doctor, listen to me…'

'Go away!'

'Please, Doctor… you need to stop! He's using you, connecting with your power…'

Reaching forward, Crowley set his hands on the Doctor's shoulders, hoping the contact might enhance their connection and help him get through to the Time Lord.

'Please listen to me…'

What Crowley found when he made it inside the Doctor's head was a mess. Kilgrave's polluting slick was spreading, establishing a hold, and as the Doctor fought it, his own power was glowing and fizzing, bright and electric like the power the demon associated with the Tardis, something he'd rarely caught a glimpse of, that he only usually encountered in the perpetual life of Jack's charm on Zee's bracelet.

The two were battling intensely, the Doctor with a vengeful fury determined to destroy Kilgrave's power no matter the cost, while Kilgrave caught at that anger, toyed with it, fighting not for his own life, really, but to achieve control, to hold the Doctor's power and make it his to command. And it was the Time Lord's emotions that were really allowing Kilgrave to fight so effectively; if he'd been calmer, better able to concentrate, he'd have been too strong for the human to gain such a hold.

Crowley's arrival made Kilgrave flinch, sensing the dominating, dark power of the demon and recognising it as the thing that caused him pain, that took his power and dulled it, that had sent him away to suffer and freeze. That momentary distraction was enough though, and Crowley used it to manoeuvre himself between the two, pushing back against Kilgrave's tidal wave of thick sludge and allowing the Doctor to breathe and gather his thoughts. Holding Kilgrave back, the demon spoke to his friend.

'Doctor, you really need to let go of him.'

'I can stop him…'

'No! Doctor, he fights you, and when your power connects with his… he tries to control it. It's too close a connection and you're too emotionally involved; he spreads his filth in your mind and weakens you.'

'He's just a human… I can handle him.'

"Fuck'sake!" Crowley yelled, dropping one hand to draw more power, asserting his dominance over both the others, not caring whether he simply distracted or actually weakened the pair, just determined to separate them, so that Kilgrave could be dealt with, and the Doctor… well he'd quite like to discover if he could glare the Time Lord into regenerating right now.

Both Kilgrave and the Doctor screamed, Kilgrave flinching back from the pain, while the Doctor clung on even more tightly to his head.

"Crowley, what are you doing?!" Jack and Ellie had arrived and Jack was being held back by Aziraphale, wriggling uselessly against the angel's celestially strong grip, having to be content with shouting to demonstrate his distress.

Meanwhile, Zee had slowly closed the small gap between herself and the group's focal point. Still sobbing, still breathing erratically, still shaking from head to toe, she reached out, placing her hand as firmly as she could on the Doctor's thigh and squeezing.

"Doctor… Doctor, please… don't let him do this to you."

"Zee, get back," Crowley warned, "I'm dealing with it."

Like previously though, the two doppelgängers seemed to respond to the mention of Zee, coupled with the sound of her voice so close. They paused, and Crowley felt them drawing back from each other, returning to themselves. He adjusted his own power, forcing himself into the small, emerging space between their consciousnesses.

The Doctor seemed more aware of Zee's touch this time, a longed-for sensation he hadn't felt in so, so long. His left hand fell from Kilgrave's head, searching out the touch and closing around Zee's hand instead.

"That's it. Other hand too, darling, please."

He shook his head, unwilling to give in, but Zee squeezed his thigh again.

Crowley could feel a change in Kilgrave's response, more flight than fight now, desperate to get the Doctor out of his head, and to be released from Crowley's presence too. He was also very aware of Zee's closeness, and although her influence on the Doctor was positive, that was not good.

"Let me go!" the man requested, voice gravelly and insistent.

Zee shuddered at the sound, gasping and trying to pull back, prevented by the Doctor maintaining a tight hold of her hand and keeping her close.

"Please…" she gasped breathlessly.

And that sound seemed to reach the Time Lord, the tiny, fragile fear in her voice. He dropped his right hand, allowing Crowley to pull him back from Kilgrave, the momentum of the sudden release causing them both to fall back onto the ground.

The Doctor was still holding onto Zee's hand, pulling her back too, so that she also ended up sprawled on the grass, still trying to gasp air into her lungs, tears continuing to flow down her face.

Alec edged closer to her. Having removed the pendant from his own neck, he now slid it around hers, before taking her free hand and wrapping his fingers around it.

"It's ok, Zee. Come away from there. Close your eyes."

She couldn't move though, half-lying on the ground, one hand reaching back to cling onto the Doctor, while propping herself up on her other elbow, hand clutching Alec's as he tried to encourage her away.

"Zee. Zee, it's so good to see you."

Everyone froze at the sound of Kilgrave's voice, delivered at its syrupy sweetest. Zee looked up at him, eyes wide with terror, mouth open and trying, trying to suck in air but not able to.

"I've missed the taste of you, Zee. Come closer…"

Zee didn't move.

Seconds ticked by, and she still didn't move.

She couldn't feel him.

Two pairs of brown eyes tracked the same curious journey down to Zee's throat, where they both landed on the dim golden glow of the barely lit star sapphire, glistening softly in the dawn light, sat awkwardly on top of the fabric of her hoodie. Zee choked out a breath at the sight, relief flooding her body, hearing an angry growl as Kilgrave made the same observation. And then she laughed, almost hysterical in her response, tears on her cheeks again, but different this time.

The sound seemed to flip a switch, returning everyone else to their senses.

"How fucking dare you!" Crowley screeched, immediately trying to disentangle himself from the Doctor, and ending up waving his hand, shifting the Time Lord by miracle and depositing him with a thud onto the ground a couple of metres to the right. The demon was still scrambling to his feet however, when Aziraphale released Jack, the angel running towards his partner as she struggled to breathe, mingled fear and relief and joy overwhelming her.

Jack took full advantage of his sudden freedom, sprinting the few paces that separated him from Kilgrave and catching him full in the face with a punch that knocked him back onto the grass, out cold.

Chapter Text

Everyone stared at the man lying flat on the ground.

Jack was stood over him, breathing hard, fists still clenched at his sides as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Crowley was right behind him, sunglasses off and dangling in his hand, golden eyes wide and disbelieving. Beside him, Aziraphale was crouched next to Zee, arms around her, offering comfort as they both observed the unconscious form of Kilgrave. Zee had stilled at the angel's touch, heart still racing wildly, breaths erratic and ragged but rapidly calming.

To their left, Alec was sat on the ground, Ellie knelt at his side, both trying to process what they'd just witnessed.

And to the right, the Doctor grimaced, pushing himself upright with a groan, winded by the 'fall' when a demonic miracle had shoved him out of the way.

While they all stared, the scene was interrupted by the sound of several vehicles speeding along the narrow road by the field before screeching to a halt. There were shouts, the thud of boots on the ground, slamming doors.

"UNIT on the scene. Captain Pierce reporting. Doctor, please identify yourself!"

The shout came from a tall man, leading a small group of soldiers in black uniforms, all with their weapons ready, slowly and cautiously entering the field, and all wearing heavy duty ear defenders.  Another group positioned themselves along the road to deal with any curious locals drawn by the noise.

Apart from Zee, who kept her eyes fixed resolutely on Kilgrave, everyone else turned towards the voice, astonished to discover that after everything that had just happened, now was the moment the back-up had chosen to arrive.

A moment later, with the Doctor still gawping at Captain Pierce, the others shifted their attention to him.

"He means you," Crowley helpfully advised, leaning towards the Time Lord.

The Doctor blinked several times, shaking his head as if to clear it, then looked at the demon in bafflement, before finally seeming suddenly to understand.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, wincing slightly at the movement. "Oh, right… yeah. The Doctor. That's me." Staggering a little as he stood, he shook out his limbs and steadied himself before stepping forward. Then, waving in a friendly manner, he approached the Captain, grinning as he held out his hand in greeting. "Hello! I'm the Doctor. Your timing is… impeccable."

Captain Pierce regarded him with a stern expression as the Doctor continued to grin brightly, the smile becoming slightly awkward as no response came. Eventually, the Captain pointed to his ear defenders, indicating that he couldn't hear anything.

"Oh. Oh right… yes. Good job. That makes sense," the Time Lord babbled. As he continued to speak, the Captain glared at him exasperatedly, until the Doctor finally realised that he needed to alter his method of communication.

Taking a step back, he signed out the phrase 'Hello, I'm the Doctor'.

The Captain stared at him blankly.

"It's 2034!" the Doctor cried, "What do you mean you don't understand sign language?! Don't they give you any useful training?"

Tutting, he reassessed the situation, recalling that Kilgrave was unconscious, rendering the ear defenders unnecessary. Pointing to the bulky headgear, he mimed taking it off, but Captain Pierce appeared alarmed by the suggestion and shook his head vehemently. Annoyed, the Doctor glanced behind, confirming that Kilgrave was still on the ground, before taking hold of the bewildered Captain's arm and dragging him across the field to see for himself.

They were followed by the rest of the UNIT soldiers, all surveying the surroundings carefully as they moved. The Doctor rolled his eyes at the sight of so many guns being pointed so haphazardly, promising himself that once he'd established communication, the first thing he was going to do was get rid of those.

As they approached the group in the centre of the field, a path was opened for them, Jack and Crowley shifting to the right while Alec and Ellie shuffled out of the way to the left. Only Aziraphale and Zee remained in their previous position, the angel holding onto his partner while she continued to keep her eyes fixed relentlessly on the unconscious figure before her, as if she needed to keep him in sight to persuade herself that he was no danger. She was holding her pendant tightly between the fingers of her left hand, its presence clearly an almost overwhelming relief.

Halting in front of the sprawled form of Kilgrave, the Doctor pointed to him and then mouthed 'Kilgrave' very carefully, hoping the Captain could at least manage to lipread the single word. He then repeated his earlier gesture, indicating that the ear defenders could be removed.

Captain Pierce ran his eyes carefully over the supine man, crouching down and assessing his condition, confirming that he was indeed unconscious. Then, looking around at the gathered group, he noted the presence of multiple versions of the same face. With uncertain eyes, he returned his focus to the Doctor.

"How do I know which one of you is which?" he asked.

Sighing, the Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. After fiddling with the setting, he activated it. Instantly, a series of clicks could be heard (by those not wearing UNIT-issue soundproof headgear…), and the ammunition cartridges fell out of every weapon in the vicinity.

Jack and Crowley both stifled laughter, Aziraphale allowing himself a smirk, while Alec and Ellie watched on in wonder. The Doctor himself let out a satisfied hum.

"That's much better," he declared, grinning again.

The UNIT soldiers were staring at their neutralised weapons in disbelief, while Captain Pierce seemed irritated by the display, although fairly confident now that the man in the pinstriped suit was actually the Doctor. He'd not encountered them personally before, but he knew enough about the Time Lord from his training to understand that such a response was absolutely typical.

"And him?" he questioned, pointing to Alec, who swallowed audibly at the attention.

Cocking his head thoughtfully, the Doctor invited Hardy to come closer.

"Just show him your badge," he advised as the detective staggered nervously to his feet.

Alec did so, and Captain Pierce studied it closely with narrowed eyes before glancing back down to the man on the floor.

"So that's him?"

The Doctor nodded energetically, trying the 'ear defenders off' mime again, and finally the Captain nodded too, slowly sliding the headgear from his head.

"Oh, at last!" the Doctor groaned, "Good of you to join us, Captain."

"Safety first, Doctor. Although I'm aware that's not your usual method."

"Pfft!" The Time Lord rolled his eyes. "If I did that, this planet would be long gone. Now DS Miller said something about a soundproof cell. I suggest you get this man contained before he wakes up."

"What happened to him?" Captain Pierce asked, eyeing Kilgrave with concern.

"I punched him in the face so he'd stop talking," Jack explained, stepping forward with his hand held out. "Captain Jack Harkness. Pleasure to meet you."

"Jack!"

Grinning, Jack shrugged.

"What? I like a man in uniform." He winked at his partner, who blushed furiously. "I've never worked with these guys. We have a little rivalry going on; they think Torchwood is a rogue organisation, lacking in discipline…"

"They're not wrong," the Doctor muttered.

"You seem to have the situation under control, Doctor," Captain Pierce interrupted.

"Absolutely," the Time Lord agreed, "Although I think a lack of control is more the point."

"Right." The Captain did not laugh, setting his jaw firmly as he gestured to his soldiers, ordering them to remove their own ear defenders. "We'll secure the target then. Brunswick?" He summoned one of the soldiers, who hastened over to him. "Restraining gear. That man on the floor must not be allowed to open his mouth."

"Yes, Sir."

Brunswick produced a sort of harness from the gear strapped to his belt, and approached the unconscious man warily. He began securing straps around Kilgrave's head, tightening buckles until it was clear he'd be completely unable to move his jaw.

"Patel?" Captain Pierce summoned another solider, who approached promptly. "Your squad will remove this man to the truck and secure him there."

"Yes, Sir. B Squad! Secure the target!"

Several soldiers gathered, lifting Kilgrave and beginning to head back to the gate.

"Wait!"

Everyone stopped, turning to the voice which came from close to the ground, loud and urgent, but with an underlying hoarseness that told the story of the long night. Zee flushed under the attention, but Aziraphale held her steady.

"Where are you taking him?"

"To a secure, soundproof holding cell, ready for delivery to UNIT HQ where a similar, more permanent setup awaits," Captain Pierce clarified. "He'll be no more trouble to you, ma'am."

Zee nodded.

"Can I… may I see?"

The Captain appeared surprised by the request, but saw no reason to deny it, and nodded, indicating that she could follow.

"As you were, B Squad."

The soldiers resumed their journey, while Zee scrambled unsteadily to her feet, Aziraphale rising with her and accompanying her as she followed. She still seemed reluctant to let Kilgrave out of her sight.

"Brunswick, you follow along. Medic Robinson is with the convoy. Request a health check on the target once secured; he's been out for a while." The Captain raised an eyebrow in Jack's direction, clearly impressed by the power of his punch.

*

Zee watched with narrowed eyes, taking in every detail as Kilgrave was secured in the mobile cell in the back of the truck. He'd regained consciousness and was struggling against his restraints, eyes wide with terror in a way that made Zee's mouth curve upwards slightly at the edges. There was something satisfying about his fear, about seeing the hunted, vulnerable, anxious flashes in his eyes; emotions he'd put in hers and smirked at.

"Ah yes, you might want to… they're perfectly secure of course, but…" Aziraphale, still by her side, one hand resting reassuringly on her arm, was flustered. "If I might…" The angel gestured, and the miraculous handcuffs vanished, allowing the soldiers to fit the more solid, fixed restraints of the cell to Kilgrave's wrists. They'd already secured his ankles and waist, but the miracled cuffs had been causing a problem, and a small miracle in front of these soldiers who were apparently used to dealing with alien threats and hadn't flinched too much at the Doctor's earlier demonstration, although of something the Time Lord would certainly argue was not magic, seemed acceptable.

Patel shot Aziraphale a curious look, noting the source of the sudden, miraculous release, but appearing to think better of questioning it, simply nodding in thanks.

Once Kilgrave was secure and each restraint double-checked, the soldiers moved out.

"Do you need a moment?" Patel asked, the question directed towards Zee really, but the soldier's eyes eventually landing on Aziraphale since she remained unresponsive.

Glancing at his partner, the angel nodded.

"Please. I'm sorry. She's… been through a lot."

Patel nodded.

"There's a handset on the control panel, if you want to speak with him. It's one way, perfectly safe. Not that he can speak anyway. I'll be close by."

They left, and Aziraphale ran his hand up to Zee's shoulder, squeezing gently. She nodded, although the angel wasn't sure what that meant; it probably wasn't directed at him.

"Aziraphale?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can you leave me with him, just for a minute?"

Aziraphale tried to cover his surprise and unhappiness at the request, his hold on Zee's shoulder tightening.

"Are you sure?"

Zee nodded.

"He can't do anything. He can't speak, and besides… I'm wearing this." She held up the pendant, caressing it softly between her fingers.

Reluctantly, the angel agreed, beginning to move slowly away.

"I'll be just around the corner. One word and I'll be here instantly, my dear."

Through the reinforced, bulletproof and soundproof glass of the cell, Kilgrave stared at Zee, a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and fear in his brown eyes now. She stepped closer, climbing into the truck and sitting on a bench opposite the cell, designed for the soldiers who'd keep watch on the prisoner during transportation.

After watching him for several long seconds, she leaned across and took the handset from the control panel, lifting it to her mouth. Taking a long breath in, she pressed the button and began to speak.

"None of this needed to happen," she began quietly, fighting with every nerve in her body to keep her voice as even as possible. "None of it. If you'd been just a little less selfish." She sighed. "And I don't mean not sharing, because that's fair enough. I mean, deciding to take it anyway, knowing we could never be what you wanted. Forcing everyone else to live with your selfish desire. You may have kept up the charade for a while after that, but really… that was the moment you decided to destroy my life. Do you remember? In the restaurant, on our first date? I told you it would never only be you, and you said… you said that you were ok with that, even though you weren't. You know yourself. I didn't then, I didn't have that advantage. But you did… And everything else was inevitable from the moment you made that choice."

There was no remorse in his eyes. Perhaps a little sadness, but also a lot of anger, which reassured her that she was right. She nodded, smiling at him sadly.

"Do you know why it works? Our group? It works because we all respect each other. We all want each other to be happy, as free and joyful and fulfilled as possible. And we all know that each of the relationships we have brings something different to the table. None of us can provide everything that another needs all by ourselves, but as a group, together, we can." She shrugged. "I care about them, and about what makes them happy. There's no room for selfishness in love."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she inhaled deeply again. Her body wanted to shake and her voice wanted to fail, but she forced them to cooperate, asserting a careful control over herself.

"You tried to destroy that. But I want you to know that you failed, Kilgrave. Aziraphale has devoted every hour of his days to protecting and caring for me, pushing his own needs aside to put me first. Crowley has changed his form, living in a different body just so he can continue to be there for me, so that I wouldn't be frightened of him. Jack has split himself in two, taking care of everyone, being everyone's support. And…" - her voice faltered, breaking as she reached the hardest part, and when she continued, it was so soft, full of love, - "the Doctor… he's had it hardest. He's not been able to see me, but he's travelled the universe to pick up treats I might like, spent hours playing Scrabble on a stupid app just so we can have some contact… he's waited so patiently, loving from a distance."

She smiled, watching the silent rage building in Kilgrave's eyes.

"And I have fought for them. Fought for me. Fought for the life we'd started building and you tried to tear apart." Tears tracked down her cheeks, although she was still mostly succeeding in holding back her emotions. "And do you know what, Kilgrave? … I'm winning. I'm winning, and I will continue to win. And I can look you in the eyes and tell you that."

Zee stood, approaching the glass, handset still pressed to her mouth.

"I win, Kilgrave. And you can sit in a cell for the rest of your life now, thinking about the different choices you could have made, and the freedom you could have had if you'd only made them."

Dropping the handset back onto the control panel, she turned and climbed back down, out of the truck and onto the ground. She made it around to the side, where Aziraphale was waiting for her, before collapsing into his arms, sobbing as if her heart might break, shaking and clinging to her angel, all the emotions she'd been holding back released like a tidal wave now that she was out of Kilgrave's line of sight.

She would win, but it was an ongoing fight.

*

UNIT left as suddenly as they came, taking their prisoner with them, to begin his new life, in a cell where he wouldn't be able to talk to anybody, his poisonous influence contained for as long as he might live.

The half light of dawn had given way to another glorious day, which, had he been paying attention to it, might have surprised Crowley, who hadn't made any adjustments to the meteorological conditions for two days now. As it was, he barely noticed.

His first task was to settle his forehead against the Doctor's, leaning in to their connection so that he could clear away some of Kilgrave's lingering muck. The interaction also brought a quiet peace to them both, basking in the contentment of a relaxed bond, feeling it spread calm through both their bodies. After the stress and pain and pushing down so much rage that it hurt them to do so, the relief was tangible, and helped both settle after the intensity of the past hours.

Jack watched, a little in awe of the connection the two had, although used to it now, thankful for it in fact, and feeling only a light simmer of jealousy.

The two detectives of Wessex Police's Broadchurch station followed Captain Pierce back to his convoy, comparing their notes regarding the incident and taking down the necessary details. This was a case like no other, hardly a case at all really, not following the usual procedures, but they planned to finish it properly so that they could file a report, even if it would only be classified and locked away in a secret government vault where such things could be buried from the public's gaze.

While Alec discussed the final details with the Captain, Ellie returned to the garden in front of his house, finding Mark and Gareth sat on the doorstep, happily chatting about a vintage Harley Davidson Gareth had just restored, and that Mark was interested in taking a closer look at.

"Well this is all very friendly," she observed, approaching the two men with a raised eyebrow. They both rose to their feet as she neared them.

"Is everyone ok?" Mark asked, concern evident in both his tone and expression.

"Yeah. I think so. Or at least, safe now."

"One hell of a strike from Jack…"

"Oh, it made quite the connection!" Ellie agreed, wincing. "You'd have missed that from here." She glanced between them, brow creased with worry. "Are you both ok?"

Mark smiled, lifting an eyebrow significantly as he replied.

"Well, Zee went to Kilgrave all by herself, and I told Gareth what a wonderful job he'd done in delivering her here for him."

"Oh, yes…" Ellie nodded, eyes twinkling. "So, you completed your task," she told Gareth, who nodded.

"I did."

Ellie winked at Mark.

"That was excellent work from both of you, Mr Davies."

Letting out a short laugh, he smiled modestly.

"Just call me Mark," he told her. "And as for the technique… well, I learned from the best." His eyes shifted behind her as he was speaking, fondly watching as another figure walked up the path towards them.

Ellie turned to see Alec, who was sighing as he slipped his notebook back into his pocket, pushing his free hand back through his hair with irritation. Casting a brief glance back at Mark before returning her focus to her colleague, she smiled, detective's instincts sparking into life; there was something here, although she wasn't sure what yet.

"All sorted?" she enquired.

Alec snorted.

"In a manner of speaking. It'll all be hushed up. Although our reports should keep him in custody indefinitely."

"Did you get what you wanted out of him?"

He shook his head, exhaustion settling onto his features.

"He's slippery, clever, a master of loopholes." Then he appeared to remember something, and his eyes brightened just a little. "Quite satisfying to disillusion him about the condition of the old lady though. He did not like that."

"Nobody died, Hardy," Ellie pointed out, squeezing his elbow, "I think that's the victory here."

"Hmm."

"Is Zee ok?" Mark asked.

"Oh, she went…" Ellie began, but Alec interrupted, having more recent knowledge.

"Aziraphale is with her. She… she requested a moment with Kilgrave. I think seeing him facing the consequences, actually witnessing that he's locked away and can't get to her… I think that's important."

"She ran over there to help her loved ones, despite knowing he was there and not having any protection. I'm… completely blown away." Ellie shook her head disbelievingly.

"She did it twice," Alec pointed out.

"Yeah, and got out of it barely harmed twice, thanks to you," Ellie replied, nudging his shoulder. "Don't think I didn't see what happened to that pendant."

Alec blushed.

"She needed it more than I did," he mumbled, blushing even more when he noticed the slightly awestruck expression on Mark's face. Stirring beneath that look, he huffed quietly. "Suppose I'd better put the kettle on. Everyone will be wanting a cuppa after all that," he suggested, moving purposefully towards the front door, not making eye contact with anyone.

Mark grimaced, realising that he'd flustered the detective. He watched as Alec passed, and then looked to Ellie apologetically. She simply gestured at him to follow though, widening her eyes and nodding… encouragingly?

"I'll help you…" he announced, disappearing into the house in pursuit of Alec.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She had no idea what to make of the pair, but figured that Alec being on the receiving end of some affection or at the very least kind attention, could only be a good thing.

*

Hearing footsteps approaching, Aziraphale raised his head. His arms were still wrapped around Zee, holding her close, although her sobs had subsided into sniffles now.

Through his own tears, the angel smiled; he couldn't think of three figures he'd rather see.

As they got closer, Jack and the Doctor slowed, allowing Crowley to go on ahead, and the demon joined his partners, flinging his long arms around them both and holding them tight, pressing his mouth into Zee's hair. Aziraphale still had an eye on the others, and watched as the Doctor nudged Jack forward, encouraging him to join the hug, the Time Lord shaking his head as he continued to hold back.

Somewhat reluctantly, Jack left his partner, joining his friends who enthusiastically welcomed him into their embrace. It was warm and cosy, and Aziraphale could feel nothing but love surrounding them, relishing in the comfort that such reciprocated affection could bring them all.

Until, after a brief moment of contentment, there was a wriggle at the centre of the group, and he drew back just enough to see Zee's face, disappointed and a little uncertain.

"There's someone missing," she said quietly.

"But you…" Aziraphale began, quickly interrupted by his partner shaking her head.

"I want him here," she asserted, sounding sure although slightly surprised at herself.

"Are you sure, love?"

Zee nodded, eyes still puffy, red, and glistening, but displaying a determination the angel knew better than to argue with. He turned, holding one arm out towards the Doctor, who was watching from a few paces away.

"Come here, Doctor."

The Time Lord's face lit up like sunshine although he still appeared a little unsure, afraid his presence might bring pain where he hoped for the opposite. Slowly, he closed the space between himself and the rest of the group, Zee having closed her eyes and buried her face in Aziraphale's chest before the angel and Jack drew the Doctor into the hug. A happy sigh could be heard from the centre of it, and then Zee's voice, muffled by the bodies around her.

"That's better."

Aziraphale could feel a tear sliding down his cheek. It had been months since they'd all been together, and Zee was right, they really hadn't been complete in all that time.

*

"Why do you have a teapot the size of an elephant?"

Alec huffed, glancing at the object in Mark's hand, an admittedly large, although not so large as an elephant, china teapot with a floral design. He shrugged.

"Wedding gift from a maiden aunt of Tess's. I'm not quite sure how I ended up with it, but it's followed me around wherever I've been. It's so hideous… I think I feel sorry for it. Anyway, I've never quite been able to bring myself to discard it."

"In case you hurt its feelings?" Mark deadpanned. Alec shrugged again.

"We were both left behind. I guess it's… solidarity amongst the rejected."

The detective was fetching milk from the fridge and didn't notice the pained expression on Mark's face at that admission. By the time he turned around, the paramedic had schooled his face into something less emotional, knowing Alec would hate to be pitied.

"So… Tess?"

"My ex-wife."

"Not amicably?"

Alec regarded Mark intently, as if searching for something. After a couple of seconds, he shook his head.

"She gave me my daughter, Daisy, though. So I can't hate her."

Mark shrugged this time, smiling.

"Hate's not healthy anyway."

Alec returned the smile, before ducking down to search for a tray he thought might be hiding at the back of a cupboard.

"I could definitely manage it for that bastard we dealt with tonight though," he replied as he delved past pots and pans for the missing tray.

"Hmm," Mark agreed, "Sometimes it's justified." He paused thoughtfully before deciding to continue. "You um… you gave Zee the pendant?"

"Of course."

Mark looked down at the figure half-buried in the cupboard, almost rolling his eyes at the nonchalant tone.

"Knowing what he's capable of, that was brave, selfless."

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!" Alec's upper body emerged, his hands clutching the elusive tray victoriously. Dusting it down, he glanced up at Mark, still not responding at all to the idea of being brave or selfless. "Knowing what he's capable of, I couldn't possibly allow her to be exposed to him."

He rose fluidly to his feet, placing the tray on the countertop and setting the carton of milk and jar of sugar onto it.

Smiling, Mark chose not to push the argument, focusing instead on filling the ridiculous teapot with hot water. When he'd finished, he noticed Alec was observing him, a tight, almost anxious expression on his face. The detective blushed when he realised that he'd been caught, flapping about unnecessarily for another teaspoon in the cutlery drawer. After a moment, he spoke, although it was quiet and Mark had to strain his ears to listen.

"I'm… I'm really glad he didn't… make me do anything awful though. It was only for a few seconds really, before Jack knocked him out… but…" He swallowed thickly. "In the pub… he told me to… well to kill Jack, basically." The stumble and choice of words told Mark that the specific instruction was worse than that. "I'm so relieved he didn't do that while I was susceptible to his control." Alec's voice had become more breathless. It was obvious that he was continuing to push down a lot of what he was feeling, two days of constant world-altering revelations and the stress of exposure to an unimaginable danger, wearing him down.

"Yeah. I'm glad too," Mark replied, "I'm really glad, Alec."

The detective flinched slightly, eyes widening.

"Oh."

"Did I… is something wrong?"

"Just… nobody ever calls me… I don't really…"

"Oh," Mark exclaimed, flushing, "I'm sorry. You'd rather I didn't call you that? Is there something else you'd prefer?"

Hardy observed him carefully for several seconds, and Mark was sure he could see the cogs whirring inside the man's mind. Eventually, he shook his head.

"Um… no, actually. I… I think I… I like it."

Stepping closer to place the teapot down onto the tray, Mark nodded, remaining close to Alec afterwards. "Would you…" He hesitated, uncertain what response he might expect. "It's been a really rough night - well, rough couple of days actually. Would you like a hug?"

Alec looked up at him with those wide eyes; big, chocolate-hued, wide eyes that made Mark's insides melt.

"A… hug?"

Mark nodded, biting his lip.

"Yep. I mean… I could use one. So, you'd be helping me out really."

He smiled, and Alec blushed again, a small, slightly crooked smile appearing on his lips too. And then the detective nodded, opening his arms awkwardly, making Mark's insides melt all over again. He wrapped Alec's slender body in a snug but careful embrace, not tight enough to hurt him, but cradling the delicate form between his strong arms, and feeling the hug tentatively reciprocated. A part of his brain wondered how long it had been since anyone had offered the detective affection like this (because, judging by the response, and the awkwardness, it had been far, far too long), while another shut down that thought, just wanting to enjoy it, and to hope that he'd be able to maintain some kind of friendship with this man, and make sure he wouldn't have to wait so long before the next one.

*

At some point during the long, 'we're-never-letting-go-of-this-ever-again' group hug, they must have shifted slightly, and Zee's hand must have wriggled, snake-like, through the mass of bodies, because the Doctor could feel it now, sliding up his torso and seeking out his chest. He knew it was her, something in the curious softness of the touch and the delicacy of the fingertips dancing over his body so familiar that it made him ache with how much he'd missed it.

Unbuttoning his jacket, she slipped her hand beneath, lying it flat, right at the centre of his chest, fingers splayed wide. He heard her breath catch in her throat, and he tensed at the sound, frozen and waiting…

Until he heard her exhale, long and slow, relief palpable in every shuddering moment of that breath and the sensation of her hand relaxing, fingers sliding against the fabric of his shirt. The Doctor could feel the precise distance between the tips of her thumb and little finger, and understood what she had been looking for: the unique double rhythm of his heartbeats.

Sensing some slight change in the tension of the embrace, the others pulled back a little, giving the reunited pair some space, Aziraphale keeping his hand supportively positioned between Zee's shoulder blades with a gentle press, reminding her that he was there and she was safe.

Freeing her other hand, Zee brought it up to join the first, placing one over each heart now and feeling the familiar rhythm echoing back and forth between her palms. Her eyes remained closed, but contentment was obvious in the set of her features, and she was breathing carefully, slowly, each breath deliberately measured.

The Doctor watched her, the hope flickering in his eyes contrasting cautiously with the persistent knot in his brow, holding his breath as he waited to discover how this moment would end, and patiently allowing her to find the calm and courage she needed in the incontrovertible evidence that it was him, provided by his unique biology.

He was aware that the others were watching too, nervously, probably terrified that her courage might fail and leave them dealing with the consequences of almost. But he couldn't think of that, couldn't admit the possibility of this not being the moment he got her back after everything they'd been through.

An especially deep breath told him that it was time, and in the seconds that followed, he saw her eyes slowly open, fixed initially on the spot where her hands were settled against his chest. He saw her gaze run briefly along several of the stripes on his suit jacket, her lips curving into a little smile at the instantly recognisable fabric. And then she let her eyes track upwards, flicking from button to button on his shirt, to the open 'V' at the top, tracing the neckline of the t-shirt beneath, then jumping up to his hair, and observing the way it caught the early morning sunlight, gold threading through the light brown; the messy strands a contrast for her to hold onto.

She swallowed audibly before allowing her gaze to dip to his face, passing over his forehead, sliding down a long sideburn to the smoothness of his jaw and chin, and across to his pink lips, a little dry as he remained statue-still, not daring to moisten them with his tongue.

He caught every little flicker in her eyes, every little twitch in the muscles on her face, every sign of recognition, indicating a similarity or a difference. Her fingers spasmed against his chest with each jolt of similarity, relaxing again when she caught something that told her it was him.

His eyes were last of course, and he waited for her to meet his gaze, hoping that there would be something in them that might communicate difference. He knew how similar their eyes were, the exact same shade of brown, identical amber highlights that would be glittering now with the low angle of the sun, but there were differences too and she knew his eyes, didn't she?

There was a whimper when she finally looked at him fully, their eyes meeting for the first time in months, but her fingers clung to his shirt, pressing harder against his chest to feel the thud-thud—thud-thud of his two hearts, and she breathed. It was clear that it was a very conscious effort; in and hold and out, counting the seconds in her head each time, but it worked and she breathed.

And he waited. He didn't move or speak, letting her take her time to experience and process. Just holding her gaze, trying and failing to prevent his eyes filling with tears, blurrily aware that hers were doing the same. Until she huffed out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but was certainly a lot like one, and she smiled properly, attempting to blink back the tears that were spilling over and down her cheeks.

"Hi," she said hoarsely.

It was his turn to make a laugh-like huffed-out sound.

"Hi."

Zee threw herself into his arms then, wrapping hers around his neck and clinging to him. The others stepped back a little further, creating a space in which he could slide his arms around her waist and lift her from the ground with the momentum of the way she'd launched herself at him. Her face was buried in his neck, soaking his skin with her tears, falling freely now it seemed, and breathing him in deeply, just the way she'd done with his coat when the Tardis had come to her in the bedroom at the bookshop.

"I missed you so much, Doctor," she murmured against his skin, tightening her grip around his neck until he could barely breathe, not that it mattered or he cared.

"Oh, Zee, you have no idea," he replied, turning his head so that he could burrow his nose into her hair, filling his lungs with her as she was doing with him, "No idea at all."

They were in their own little world, where there was nothing but each other for now, and they didn't notice the way the other three gathered together a few paces from them. Crowley and Aziraphale leaned on one another, arms around each other's waists and the demon's head resting against the angel's, and Jack joined them, pressed to Crowley's side, one hand stroking his bicep while the other reached around to squeeze Aziraphale's shoulder. None of them dared look at each other, their emotions barely contained as they witnessed the longed-for reunion taking place in front of them.

How many times had they wondered if this would ever happen? Each had memories of moments when they'd held and comforted one half of the pair, moments that receded now, washed away by the joy of the two pieces brought back together, slotting into place where they belonged.

And the pair continued to hold onto each other, clinging fiercely to their hope. This was only a step, and there were many more to take. Nothing was magically fixed; there was still fear and this embrace was the result of carefully managed, slow, cautious courage. But it was real, and it was a big step, and as long as they held onto each other they could pretend for a moment that everything was ok.

Chapter Text

Everyone else had gathered in the living room (a quickly snapped miracle removing the complex wards from the house and allowing everyone to enter), by the time Mark and Alec were ready with the tea. There weren't enough places for them all to sit, but fortunately there were an angel and a demon present to miracle up some extra chairs. Gareth's eyes had taken on the proportions of saucers on seeing that, and Ellie had giggled while doing her best to reassure him that he was not seeing things and it was all absolutely ok.

While Mark entered the room, depositing the tray on the coffee table and settling himself onto one end of the sofa, Alec hung back in the hallway, concerned about Zee.

"Where's DI Hardy?" Aziraphale asked, noting one remaining unfilled seat and taking a quick head count.

"Oh, he was worried about… you know…" Mark explained awkwardly, trying not to push the focus onto Zee who he knew felt terrible about her (perfectly understandable), problem with the doppelgängers.

Zee was curled up on Aziraphale's lap, on the comfortable armchair positioned at one end of the coffee table at a right angle to the sofa. Crowley had draped themself over the back of it, a hand positioned protectively on her shoulder. Mark blinked as he looked at her and then back to the sofa next to him, where the Doctor was sat, pressed tightly to Jack's side, a hand set very possessively on his partner's thigh.

"But you're…"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, voice barely above a whisper. Mark returned his gaze quizzically to the armchair.

"I looked Kilgrave in the eye and told him I was winning. So… I'm trying something." Zee blushed. "They're helping," she added, indicating her partners.

"She might have to start attending 'Calming Blessings Anonymous' if we're not careful," Crowley commented, "but if it gets us all in the same room, it's worth it." The demon smiled, leaning over to drop a kiss into Zee's hair.

"Oh," Mark said, "So…"

"Let's give it a go," Zee nodded, shifting her gaze to the door. "DI Hardy, you can come in."

Mark noted the way her hand tightened on Aziraphale's arm, the position not dissimilar to when Gareth had tried to abduct her a few hours ago, but it was for comfort now, rather than panic, and it was the pads of her fingertips that gripped the angel's jacket, instead of her nails. When he turned, he saw Alec hesitantly entering the room, concern written on his features, and also embarrassment at being the centre of attention.

"Hi," the detective said, head dipping slightly in a subtle gesture of greeting.

Mark's eyes returned to Zee, observing the way she was carefully counting each too-steady breath. The hand not clutching Aziraphale's arm was now on the pendant around her neck.

"Hello, detective," she greeted the newcomer, running her eyes carefully over his face. She squeezed the pendant tightly between her fingers. "Thank you… for this." Lifting the pendant from her chest, she made it clear what she meant.

"Of course," Alec replied, repeating his words from earlier.

"It helps too. I know I can't… he couldn't…" She stopped, looking away. Aziraphale held her tighter.

"Just returning stolen property," Alec told her, smiling. He sat on the vacant chair, close to where Mark had begun pouring the tea.

"Have you filled out the correct paperwork for that, detective inspector?" Ellie asked, eyebrow raised and a twinkle in her eyes. She was sat opposite them, on another of the miracled chairs, next to Gareth who was staring around the room looking completely baffled, and awkward whenever his eyes landed on Zee.

"Item description: one magical pendant," Alec quipped, "Yeah, that'll pass with the Super."

A ripple of laughter ran around the room at that, and Mark noted that even Zee giggled, something that seemed to pass a second wave of palpable relief through the group.

"Hmm…" Ellie mused, "I think we might need to turn a blind eye to procedure in this case."

"Yes," Aziraphale agreed, "although what I think we really need right now, is breakfast."

*

After much discussion, Ellie had ordered breakfast from the café by the harbour, in the form of freshly baked bread rolls filled with whatever combination of bacon, sausage, or egg was preferred by each individual, alongside a large box of pastries to satisfy appetites made large by the events of the past couple of days.

The coffee table creaked beneath the weight of so much food, plates, mugs, and the oversized teapot that somehow never ran out of tea, always just the right temperature and the perfect strength. When he noticed it, Mark raised an eyebrow in Aziraphale's direction, receiving only a tiny smirk and a wink from the angel in confirmation of his miraculous interference. It was all very new to him, this magic, but the paramedic couldn't help grinning at the remarkably convenient result, saving him from endless trips back to the kitchen to top up the water.

Also seemingly miraculous, although not the result of any actual magic, was the way the conversation managed to steer clear of the events that had brought them all together, clearly a conscious effort from all involved. Instead, Ellie regaled them with anecdotes about strange items she'd had to return to members of the public during her career as a police officer, none of which quite approached the level of 'magic pendant', although some carried far more amusing stories, which occasionally drew Alec in with minor additions and corrections.

The tales inspired Mark to tell some of his own, of accidents he'd attended involving unusual objects, particularly those that had required removal from unfortunate (and sometimes very embarrassing), parts of the body, chuckling as he recited the astonishingly inventive (and obviously fictional), stories he'd heard in dishonest explanation of how they'd got there.

Jack, of course, had his own stories to tell on that topic, many from personal experience, causing the Doctor to slide further and further down in his seat, hands over his eyes and a blush covering every visible inch of his usually pale skin. And Crowley wasn't far behind their immortal friend, making their own additions to the discussion, to the obvious bemusement of Aziraphale.

Gareth ate his food quietly, listening with rapt and bewildered attention to everything. He'd received some explanations from Mark and Ellie, but there was so much to take in and he was struggling to keep up, besides which most of the stories currently being traded by Jack (who he knew he'd met before, very briefly, in circumstances that made little sense), and the very attractive, red-haired woman who was apparently called Crowley, were almost entirely incomprehensible to him.

Zee was also quiet, curled on the floor between Aziraphale's legs, leaning her head on one solid thigh and clutching her mug of tea close to her chest. She wasn't really listening though, her mind going over the events of the past couple of days, or at least the parts she knew about.

Part of her couldn't believe she was sat in a room with the Doctor and Hardy, and she kept glancing at them both, choosing to look at them, in control of that choice, and determined to become used to them, to make it normal to see them. As she did so, her fingers tightened their grip on her mug, preventing her hands from shaking too obviously, and although her heart was racing in her chest, with focus she was able to keep her breathing steady.

Aside from the occasional contribution to Ellie's stories, Hardy had mostly been listening, nibbling on a plain croissant (having rejected the idea of a sandwich), and sipping his tea. He seemed awkward amongst the vibrant conversation, Zee thought, noting the way he held his body stiffly, not a relaxed muscle to be seen as she ran her eyes down the ill-fitting navy suit. The opinions she'd been able to form of him thus far were that he was sweet, if a little abrasive, and kind, clearly completely touch-starved, and married to his job at the expense of his personal life.

As she watched, Zee noticed how attentive Mark was to him, topping up his tea and checking in with him regularly, making efforts to include him in the conversation, and she tried to work out what the scenario was there. The detective wasn't oblivious, because his cheeks became tinted with a soft pink every time, but he also gave no other response to any of Mark's attentions, either in a positive or negative direction.

From what she'd been told, Hardy had a teenage daughter and an ex-wife, but she knew nothing else of his relationship history, and decided just to keep an eye on things for now, while she gathered data. The detective deserved to be happy and clearly needed somebody to take care of him, but although she was sure that she saw a volunteer for the role right in front of her, Zee wasn't yet certain if Hardy would regard Mark as an option. Only time would tell there…

When she wasn't trying to suss Hardy out, Zee spent a lot of time refamiliarising herself with the other (current) doppelgänger in the room. He was overcome with embarrassment, hiding his head in his hands in a futile effort to escape the horrifying details of Jack's stories, and there was something so absolutely the Doctor about the whole thing that she couldn't help but smile.

She'd missed him so much, and his squirming at Jack's insatiable need to overshare from his limitless supply of very sexual personal anecdotes was just one of the things she'd missed. Jack teased, the Doctor squirmed, and Zee knew that somewhere beneath the blush he'd be taking in every detail, dismayed by the discovery that some of the stories turned him on, but hoping that Jack would know (he usually did), and would act on that knowledge (he usually did).

When he occasionally dared to drop his hands and risk allowing his face to be seen, the Doctor's eyes were always quickly drawn to her, and Zee would meet them with a soft smile. He smiled back every time, a delighted twinkle in his eyes that made her feel warm inside, knowing that however much she'd missed him, the feeling was at the very least reciprocated.

She'd been worried about his eyes, knowing the dreadful similarity and the efforts he had made to build a connection between them in her mind. But outside, when the Doctor had looked at her, she'd not felt the terror she'd dreaded, because she'd just witnessed the furious rage in those other eyes, and the contrast when she'd found his gaze, so full of love…

He wasn't holding any of it back now, and the feeling was so sure and certain.

He loved her.

Those other eyes could never look like that, and seeing it had made her feel safe. For the first time she actually began to think that perhaps everything was going to be ok.

*

It was only for so long that chaotic small-talk could keep them distracted, and once the sandwiches were long-gone, the pastries dwindling, and a whole ocean of tea had been consumed, the conversation eventually faded into a reflective silence. Exhaustion settled over the room like a heavy blanket.

Following whispered discussions and a couple of telephone calls down to the station from Ellie, arrangements were made for everyone to take some time to rest, or at least almost everyone.

A couple of officers arrived with cars to take Gareth and Mark home, Ellie promising the man she'd so far had one date and one life-altering experience with that she'd visit later to take his statement for the paperwork, answer his questions and talk to him about… well, everything, but in the meantime he should try to sleep.

Mark was reluctant to leave, but eventually accepted that a few hours sleep would do him good before visiting the police station to give his own statement, which he arranged to do later in the afternoon. On his way out, he paused by Alec, resting a large hand on the detective's slender shoulder and squeezing gently.

"You should get some sleep too, Alec," he encouraged, eliciting a frown, an unimpressed hum, and a blush from Hardy, none of which went unnoticed by several other pairs of eyes in the room. The detective glanced at the hand on his shoulder, then up at Mark's face, almost looking apologetic.

"Far too much work to do for that, but I'll um… I'll see you later."

There was a resigned shake of the head from Mark as he left, closely followed by Ellie (who would be dropped off as they passed the police station), and Gareth.

"He fancies you," Crowley stated drily, staring at Alec from where he was still draped elegantly across the back of Aziraphale's chair.

"Shut up," Alec snapped, standing up and beginning to busily gather plates and mugs together. The blush Mark's gentle and caring words had caused had now spread, brightening his skin from his ears to his neck. "Don't you have your own house to go to?"

Shooting an exasperated glare at his husband, Aziraphale sighed.

"Yes, we should probably get going. Get out of your hair, so to speak." The angel eased himself out of the chair, stroking Zee's hair in apology as her pillow was removed. Approaching the detective, he laid a hand on his arm, the other steadying the precarious stack of plates Hardy was carrying. "Allow me, detective," he requested, before snapping his fingers and restoring the room to its proper appearance, all traces of their meal gone and the additional chairs vanishing back into his imagination where they'd come from, leaving only the sofa and the chair Crowley was sprawled on.

Alec blinked several times, looking more exhausted than ever.

"Um… thanks."

"You're welcome," Aziraphale replied. "You know, Mark was right. You really should get some sleep."

Alec shook his head.

"Paperwork. I need to finish the paperwork. No time for sleep." He groaned. "I need to get statements from all of you too."

Zee had also got to her feet by this point, and nudged past Aziraphale to stand in front of Alec, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders.

"We'll be at the cottage when you need us, but please get some rest, DI Hardy. No need to rush, we're not going anywhere."

"I rather thought you'd want to go home, dearest," Aziraphale said, surprised, but Zee shook her head.

"We still have the cottage until the weekend, and I've spent the last couple of days cooped up inside, hiding. I'd really like to enjoy the rest of our holiday." She turned to the angel, suddenly a little anxious. "If that's ok?"

Aziraphale smiled brightly, delighted by her words.

"Of course it's ok. We'll do whatever you want."

*

'Whatever Zee wants' turned out to mean the five of them returning to the cottage in the Tardis (they offered to drop Alec off at the police station on the way, but he insisted that he'd rather walk), so that they could all get some much needed rest, Zee snuggled securely between her angel and demon in the master bedroom, buried in Aziraphale's arms and with Crowley wrapped around them both.

The Doctor and Jack accepted an invitation to take the other bedroom in the cottage, and the second the door was closed behind them the Time Lord threw himself at his partner, wrapping him in a bone-breaking hug and burying his face in his neck. It seemed he'd been waiting for hours while they were dealing with Kilgrave and then never getting a moment alone; waiting for the opportunity to pull Jack close again and prove that he was really here and safe and not being tortured at the whim of that terrible man.

Jack hugged him back, circling the slender waist with his arms, almost overcome by the desperation with which the Doctor was embracing him. He remained silent, allowing his partner to take whatever he needed for as long as he needed it.

Eventually, the Doctor lifted his head, drawing back only as far as was necessary to allow him to look at Jack, the fingers of one hand tangling in his hair while the other slid forward to cup his jaw.

"Seven times," he whispered, and Jack gasped, understanding what was meant and feeling his blood run cold at the knowledge that the Doctor knew.

"How…?"

The Time Lord shook his head, leaning in and kissing Jack instead of answering the question. The kiss began soft, chaste, but almost vibrating with the depth of the love it was communicating. Then the Doctor pressed his lips harder against Jack's, still not parting them, but seemingly trying to fuse them together, until finally he gave up, breathless, and rested his forehead against his partner's.

"It's never ok, Jack. Never," he whispered fiercely, "There will never be a time when I am ok with you dying."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I just… I thought you were in trouble, and I couldn't… I couldn't just sit there."

"I know."

The Doctor paused, groaning and rolling his eyes.

"Idiot," he added, and Jack laughed, not arguing. "Let's go to bed." The Doctor pulled back a bit further, gazing into his partner's bright blue eyes. "I just need to hold you, to know you're safe."

"And you? Are you ok?" Jack asked.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," the Doctor replied dismissively, "Just a little bump to the head. You can't even tell since Aziraphale healed it."

"You were in the guy's head, Doc… and Crowley said…"

"Jack, I'm fine." The Time Lord's tone left no space for argument, and his eyes burned with a remnant of their earlier stormy intensity. Just for a moment though, because then he fixed a smile on his face and began to unbutton his jacket. "Now get your clothes off and get into bed."

*

Alec sat at his desk, dishevelled, exhausted, head slumped against one hand. He gazed unseeingly at the computer screen in front of him, part of his brain questioning whether this was really his office or the duplicate onboard the Tardis.

The query was answered when Ellie clattered through the door holding two mugs in her hands, a half-empty packet of chocolate digestive biscuits clamped between her teeth. If this had been the Tardis, tea and biscuits would have materialised far more quietly on the desk. And the tea wouldn't have sloshed over the rim of the mug when Ellie desposited it on there with a little too much force, dropping the biscuits down alongside it. Alec scowled at the puddle of tea on his desk, spreading dangerously close to a pile of paperwork.

"Thought additional caffeine might be necessary," his colleague announced, "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

Ellie shrugged.

"I look like shit too," she admitted, "That's what the biscuits are for." As if to prove her point, Ellie took one and shoved it into her mouth, tipping the packet towards Alec afterwards. He waved it away, leaning back in his chair and sighing loudly.

"Just like that," he said, sounding completely done with everything, "they just waltz in with their trucks and their guns, and they take him away. No case, no evidence, no trial. They just lock him up. And they won't even hear what he has to say, because they can't. Too risky."

"What's the alternative?" Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate biscuit. She was perched on the edge of his desk, absentmindedly taking a new biscuit from the packet each time she finished one.

Alec held his hands out, shaking his head.

"I don't know," he groaned, "but I just… it feels wrong." Sitting up straighter in his chair, he clicked open a file on the computer. "I'm putting together all the evidence, all the witness statements… I'm going to complete this case file so thoroughly, even he couldn't wriggle his squirmy way out of it."

"Good for you," Ellie applauded, smiling at Alec being so damned Alec.

"And then it'll get buried in a Top Secret, Super Classified, Never To Be Read file somewhere in a basement beneath UNIT HQ."

"But he'll be locked up, Hardy. That's what matters. We both know how easily a trial can go wrong, and there's no way one could be held for him within the bounds of the current legal system."

Alec glared at her briefly, eyes then softening from bitter anger into a resigned sadness, and he nodded, reaching over and taking a biscuit. Ellie grinned, sliding from the desk and sitting in the chair next to his. Alec blinked at it as if he'd not noticed it previously.

"Why…?"

"Because last time I was in this office, Aziraphale was with me, watching CCTV from the pier, and the time before that, the Doctor was with me, pretending to be you, and we were going over the movements of Kate Thompson. We were working together."

"In my office."

"Crowley made it a safe place. Anyway, I heard you had one of your own… in a spaceship." Ellie wriggled, making herself comfortable, and sipped her tea, enjoying Alec's discomfiture, because it was one of her great pleasures in life.

"Hmm."

"I also heard you piloted said spaceship."

Alec blushed, and Ellie could barely contain her glee.

"Well… sort of," he admitted, frowning.

"Detective Inspector Hardy," Ellie said firmly, voice deadly serious now, "You piloted a bloody spaceship."

Despite his best efforts, a small smile forced its way onto Alec's face, almost, almost becoming a giggle. He relaxed back into his chair again.

"You know what Detective Sergeant Miller…" - he turned to her, surprise and something that might even have been delight brightening his features - "I bloody well did!"

They both laughed at that, the reaction a release of emotion after a long, long night of barely creditable experiences. They laughed long and hard, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Eventually, their laughter subsiding, they finished their tea and refocused on the computer.

"Come on then," Ellie encouraged, pointing at the screen, "we've both been busy. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Miller!" Alec protested, blushing at her language even as he opened up more of the documents he'd been working on during his time on the Tardis. Amazingly, Crowley's miracle extended to everything being fully duplicated and accessible here, in his real office.

Ellie smirked.

"Hmm. Speaking of which, I think we need to talk about the hunky paramedic…"

"Oh, don't you start, Miller," he whined.

Her face lit up at that, sensing that she was definitely onto something because she apparently wasn't the only one mentioning it, and Hardy was so adorably flustered…

*

Zee glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking in the dark patches and tired lines around her eyes with a small sigh. She was still getting used to looking at herself again, it being something she'd avoided for most of the past few months, as she battled against the feeling she couldn't shake, that her body had betrayed her. Even now, she only ever looked at her face, and only when she was washing or doing her hair.

Despite the clear evidence to the contrary, she felt refreshed by a few hours of sleep in the arms of her partners and a hot shower to wash away all the horrors of the night.

The shower had been problematic, her hands still bandaged because she hadn't allowed any miraculous healing to be used to fix them. Unlike last time, when she'd clung to the burn on her hand as a sign that her trauma was real, the only physical mark she'd been left with to prove that it had happened, this time she kept the grazes to remind her that she'd fought.

She'd fought and he was gone, somewhere he couldn't harm anyone.

Knowing that he was secured; restrained and unable to command any assistance… It felt like a weight had been lifted from her. She hadn't realised before how much the not knowing what had happened to him had mattered. But now she felt free of him in a way she hadn't previously, comprehending for the first time just how much she'd been terrified of turning a corner and finding him there waiting for her, mouth open and tongue ready to utter words that would crawl into her brain and compel the actions of her body.

There were many reasons why she'd felt ready to look upon that face again. Initially, it had been necessity, her movements driven by a desperate need to save the Doctor, willing to do whatever it took to prevent him destroying himself, including facing her worst nightmare and risking her own safety, because how could she ever live with the knowledge that he'd done that for her? None of them would have been in such danger if it wasn't for her stupidity, and she couldn't bear it; she'd go back to Kilgrave herself before she'd stand by and watch her loved ones suffer in her place.

In those moments she'd been unable to drag her eyes away, needing to keep him in her sight so he couldn't take her by surprise.

Later, she'd needed to be sure. She'd needed to stand in front of Kilgrave and witness him restrained and locked up, to tell her mind with certainty that it was true. And with that, she'd needed to take back control, to speak freely herself and without interruption, to make him listen to her.

And after that? She'd needed to make the words she'd said true.

And the next step towards her winning was being able to see her Doctor.

With Kilgrave gone; absolutely, definitely, incontrovertibly gone; something else had slipped into place in her brain, another connection restored, another repair completed. And with free will, determination, and focus, she'd chosen to test that knowledge. Successfully.

It was the biggest step she'd taken yet in recovering the woman she'd been and the life she'd had before. She had her Doctor back.

There were still many more steps, and as she glanced down at herself, already fully dressed again, in baggy jeans and loose-fitting fluffy jumper over a t-shirt, towel-dried hair damp on her shoulders, she knew that she still had to really come to terms with her own body, but she'd placed a huge building block into the foundations.

She had her Doctor back.

Smiling as she hung her towel on the rail to dry, Zee reached for the door handle, turned it, and stepped out of the bathroom, returning to the bedroom where Crowley was waiting with fresh bandages to replace the saturated ones on her hands. She'd only taken a couple of paces however, when she heard the creak of a door opening and quick footsteps at the other end of the landing.

She looked up, and her mouth dropped open as she gasped, immediately choking on the air that rushed into her throat, dragging the saliva from her mouth with it. Staggering back, she winced as her hands slammed palm-first into the wall behind her, body feeling weak, her bones like jelly. As she coughed, tears pricked at her eyes, a combination of the shock of choking and frustration at the instinctive response to the man stood in front of her.

The Doctor looked heartbroken, also suddenly frozen to the spot and with no idea what to do, face slack with devastation, his own eyes wet and legs struggling to keep him upright. His internal panic automatically summoned Crowley from the master bedroom, the demon appearing within a couple of seconds, his own face mirroring the Doctor's as he took in the situation, pushing the bewildered Time Lord back towards his own room, and racing across the landing to Zee.

She was beginning to recover from her shock by the time he arrived, guilt and her own heartbreak taking over and reducing her to a sobbing mess as the demon pulled her into his arms.

"Just… it was… the shock… I didn't…" she mumbled incoherently into his chest, clinging to him as he tried to soothe her.

"'S'ok, Zee, he'll understand. Ssshhh… not a problem. Don't worry sweetheart."

"I'm ready… know I am… not fair…"

Crowley guided her back to their room, settling her onto the chair and crouching in front of her, wiping his thumbs across her cheeks to clear away the tears. His own cheeks were wet too, the horrified guilt of his partner mirroring the Doctor's response that he could feel in his mind, and he was stuck between them, loving them both and hating the circumstances that made such a simple accident so hurtful to them.

"Zee, sweetheart, it's ok. It was an accident, it'll happen, he just surprised you."

"I hate it!" she snapped back, another sob wracking her body. "I just got him back, Crowley…"

She blinked at him, sniffling, eyes desolate, and the demon felt his heart breaking for her. She'd looked so bright and hopeful only a few hours ago, with a joy lighting up her eyes that he'd not seen in her for so long… and now she was hopeless, all the guilt returning and the spark gone.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. It was the surprise. We'll just have to be more careful. Think about it; by the time I got to you, you knew, and you were already getting it under control." Tilting her head forward, Crowley kissed her forehead. "You can still see him, I'm sure of it. You just need to have some warning so you can tell your brain to expect it."

Zee nodded, acknowledging his point, sniffing again and bringing up her own hands to wipe her tears away. The action brought the sodden bandages back into focus and Crowley cupped her wrists loosely in his palms.

"Let me sort these," he requested, and when she nodded again, he settled back, kneeling now and miracling fresh antibacterial wipes and bandages so he could get to work. She watched him, calming as she observed the care with which he unwrapped the soaked fabric, cleaned the wounds, and covered them in clean bandages, everything performed the human way in line with her preference.

By the time he was done, she was breathing normally, eyes still red-rimmed and swollen but no longer wet, and she was still, her body back under her control. Crowley looked at her, smiling softly, and lifting her hands to his mouth to press gentle kisses to her knuckles.

"Better?" he asked, and she nodded, smiling just as softly as he was.

"I want to see him."

Crowley didn't look surprised. He just nodded.

'Doctor?'

'Is she ok?' The Time Lord's voice shook inside the demon's head; he'd clearly been waiting patiently but desperately for news. Crowley smiled, stroking Zee's hands where they were still held between his.

'She wants to see you. Can you come in here?'

'Really?' The childlike happiness in his voice made Crowley laugh, smiling broadly at Zee who was watching him, knowing he was communicating with their friend.

"Really," he confirmed, both out loud and in his mind, for the benefit of both parties.

Both Zee and Crowley turned their gazes to the door as they heard the sound of the guest bedroom door being opened and then closed again across the hall. A second later, theirs opened and the Doctor popped his head through, looking for them. When his eyes landed on Zee, they were anxious, and she let out a little sob, a wave of guilt emanating from her and passing through Crowley, who squeezed her hands tighter in response.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," Zee whispered.

He shook his head, stepping further into the room.

"No. Don't say that Zee, please. It's… I shouldn't… I took you by surprise."

"But…"

"I'll be more careful in future," the Doctor asserted, "I just didn't think before I left the room."

Crowley shuffled out of the way, beckoning the Time Lord closer. Hesitantly, he approached them, taking the demon's place on the floor in front of Zee, while Crowley moved over to sit on the bed.

The Doctor was looking up at her, his brown eyes wide and hopeful with a trace of anxiety that still tugged at her heart, and they were puffy, edged in red just like she knew her own must be. She reached out and touched the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, just resting her fingertips gently against his skin.

"I'm sorry I made you sad," she said, voice so soft it barely made sound.

Her boyfriend smiled, shaking his head and lifting his hands towards hers, cautiously pausing before he actually touched her. She nodded almost imperceptibly, just enough to communicate consent, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, pulling her hands down to his mouth where he kissed her fingertips one by one.

"Not your fault," he insisted, and she smiled, knowing better than to argue with a Time Lord. Their hands rested, entwined, on her lap, content as they simply gazed at one another, drinking in the reality of each other after so much time apart.

As her eyes travelled over his skin, Zee noticed a faint silvery mark on his forehead. Untangling one hand, she reached up and touched it.

"When did you get that?"

He swallowed, briefly glancing in Crowley's direction before staring at the floor.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," he attempted to deflect.

"Doctor…" Zee warned, and he sighed at the tone of her voice. He knew better than to fight against his girlfriend's curiosity; one of the most powerful forces in the universe in his, extremely vast, experience.

"Recently," he admitted, jaw clenched tightly.

Zee gasped.

"Oh."

Looking more closely at the mark, she recognised the sign of angelic magic in the scar, the subtle shimmer in the silver of the healing skin that told her Aziraphale had healed the wound. It was very recent, and would probably fade completely in the next few hours. And that meant Kilgrave had hurt her sweet Doctor…

"What did he make you do?" she breathed.

"Actually, he… um… he shoved my head against a tap. It was a bit rusty…"

"Oh…" she uttered, thinking about that. Kilgrave had got his hands dirty… not his style. Well, not for physical violence. There were other things… more intimate things…

Then she realised why. "Because he'd realised he couldn't control you."

The Doctor nodded.

"But Aziraphale…" Zee continued, and he nodded again. She looked at Crowley. "That's when you asked him to come and help you, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Turning her eyes back to the Doctor, Zee leaned in and kissed the scar.

"He'll never hurt you again," she murmured against his skin.

"Nor you, Zee," the Doctor replied, as she pulled back and they held each other's gaze.

"Nor anybody hopefully," Crowley added from the bed, and the others nodded, smiling now, enjoying the smiles they'd both missed so much.

The demon watched them fondly for a while, allowing his mind to contemplate the prospects opened up by the reunion. Things had felt so wrong while they couldn't all be together.

"How's Jack?" Zee asked eventually.

The Doctor grinned, although she noticed it didn't entirely reach his eyes.

"Slept like a baby for the past few hours. He's… fine."

Zee's eyes narrowed as she sensed he was keeping something back.

"But… you're not," she guessed.

"I hate when he…" He trailed off, not wanting to say it, not in front of Zee when she already felt so guilty, taking the blame on herself for every bit of harm Kilgrave caused.

"Dies," she finished for him, tears glistening in her eyes. She adjusted their grip, holding onto his hands tightly. "When you got back last night, he just hugged me and told me he was so glad I was safe. There was so much relief in his voice. And I remembered… the voice telling me to run, when he saw me… it was Jack. He was there, and he knew that Gareth was coming for me…"

"Wait!" Crowley interrupted, standing up suddenly. "I saw that, by the harbour. You were there? That's what was happening? And I missed you! Fuck! What if he'd…"

"We're all ok," the Doctor insisted, untangling one of his hands so he could reach back and find Crowley's, interleaving their fingers and gripping tightly. The demon knelt down beside him and drew both Zee and the Doctor into his arms.

"We're all ok," he repeated, echoing the Doctor's words exactly.

They were still hugging when there was a light tap on the door, a little squeak as it opened slightly, and Jack's head appeared in the gap. He appeared quite drained, tense lines in his forehead and his eyes tired and lacklustre.

"Hey," he called softly, "they're ready for you."

Chapter Text

"Aziraphale, she's asking for you," Ellie announced as she entered the living room, closely followed by Alec. They'd been conducting the last of their interviews at the cottage, as they continued collecting witness statements from all those immediately involved in the events of the past couple of days. Mark, who after his interview at the police station had been invited (by Ellie), and allowed (by Alec), to accompany them to the cottage, had been waiting with the rest of its inhabitants in the living room, talking quietly while most of their minds were with Zee in the dining room. Hers had been the longest interview.

The angel stood, regarding the detectives anxiously.

"Is she ok?"

"She did really well," Ellie reassured him.

"Clear and confident," Alec added, "An exemplary witness to an incredibly difficult scenario."

"But she'd like her angel," Ellie continued with a smile, "I think it took a lot out of her."

Nodding, Aziraphale hurried across the hall to check on her, leaving the others sitting in slightly tense silence in the living room, the detectives joining Mark on the sofa.

"Sooo…" Crowley began eventually, still sprawled over the back of Aziraphale's chair as he generally was, "that you done for the day?"

Ellie nodded.

"Yeah. We'll have some more interviews to do tomorrow. The Wilsons and the Campbells have had officers assigned to them, and both couples are safely at home. Mrs Jarvis should be home in the next couple of days."

"I'd like to see her," the Doctor said quietly, "apologise for… well… making her walk off a cliff." He and Jack were on the armchair by the window, the Doctor snuggled on his partner's lap as always.

"I'd normally say no, but in the circumstances… it can't be worse than me turning up to take her statement," Alec responded. "We'll let you know when that's possible."

"How's Zee been doing around you?" Mark asked the Doctor, who pulled a face at the question, making a thoughtful sound in his throat while he considered his answer.

"She's fine when she's in control of the interaction," Crowley explained.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, "but if I take her by surprise… it's not great."

"We've just got to be careful," Jack added, stroking his partner's arm. He'd been giving his statement when the situation had occurred earlier, and felt guilty for not being present to console the Doctor.

"It makes sense that it's still overwhelming," Mark said with sympathy, "You'll get there, just take it slow."

"Hmm," Crowley acknowledged, head falling dramatically onto the back of the chair as he stretched his long body out, snake-like. "I guess I'll be in this form a while longer." It was a complaint, but only half-meant because he really would live like this for as long as was required; he just felt the need to be dramatic momentarily, perhaps to relieve some of the pressure on the Doctor.

"Yeah, I've never fully understood that," Ellie commented. "I thought initially that Zee might find it easier to be affectionate with you in that form, but she's fine with other men… it's just the doppelgängers that she… oh… oh! Crowley…?" She gazed at the demon draped over the back of the chair, her eyes wide with astonished curiosity.

"Wait," Alec said, sitting up straight suddenly and also eyeing Crowley intently, with narrowed, inquisitive eyes, brow furrowed, "What are you suggesting? Crowley?"

Catching on, Mark blinked several times, regarded the detectives with a half-baffled glance, and then stared at the demon.

"Crowley? Are you…?"

The Doctor and Jack were trying their best, and failing, to suppress giggles, while Crowley rolled his eyes so hard that the slits of his pupils almost vanished completely, leaving solid golden orbs, before sliding off the chair and regaining his feet gracefully. With an eye on the door to prevent this turning into a disaster, he moved to the centre of the room and glared at the three incredulous figures on the sofa.

"I think it's best I just show you my male form," he declared, a second before snapping his fingers.

The couple on the chair smirked as they observed the reactions of the trio opposite. Despite having guessed correctly, their faces were pictures of shocked bewilderment. Ellie's eyebrows had disappeared into her hair, chin almost resting on her lap, although she seemed impressed by what she saw. Mark's eyes darted several times between Alec, the Doctor, and Crowley, confusion etching his features. And Alec… Alec's eyebrows had slanted into a deep frown, curving his mouth downwards even as it was open in surprise. He was the first to speak.

"You have got to be kidding me."

The Doctor snorted out a laugh at that response.

"But how… I mean… three was ridiculous, but four of you?" Ellie shook her head. "The red hair though, that's nice," she shrugged.

"Casanova too, but not in this century," Jack pointed out.

"Oh… you said five. The first time we came here," Ellie remembered, "I just didn't expect there would be so many in the same town."

"We appear to be attracted to one another like magnets," Crowley explained with a little bitterness, attracting a raised eyebrow from the Doctor. That caught Ellie's attention.

"Oh, but you… you two… you…" She wagged her finger between the demon and the Time Lord. "I've seen you kiss!"

Alec groaned, head falling into his hands.

"Jesus Christ!" he could be heard muttering into his palms.

"Do you… in that form… you know…?" Ellie pursued, drawing more groans from Alec, who clearly did not want to know.

"Oh, they do," Jack confirmed mischievously, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Shut up!" cried all three doppelgängers at once, Alec raising his head in horror at the idea, sparking loud laughter from the other three, and consequent blushes from demon, Time Lord, and detective.

Crowley quickly snapped again, returning himself to the safer, feminine form and throwing himself dramatically onto Aziraphale's chair.

"I've known I was gay since I was a kid," Mark mused, "and I have never doubted it. Until right this second, seeing you flip between those two forms… fuck me, Crowley… you are something else."

"Yes, it appears to have that effect…" Crowley sighed.

"Besides the temptation, this demon leaves a trail of bisexual awakening in their wake," Jack suggested with a grin. "Never met a human he couldn't tempt one way or the other… or both."

Crowley rolled his eyes, but laughed, casting a smirking glance over the figures on the sofa.

"You know, the Doctor actually admitted to me, in this very room, that he prefers my male form…"

The Doctor blushed brighter than ever, opening his mouth to protest but finding no words. Alec meanwhile, sank back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, "I think we're done here, Miller."

"Ooh, you narcissitic so-and-so," Ellie said, ignoring him and grinning at the Doctor. With a sly glance at Alec, probably in the hope he might have covered his ears to prevent any further horrors reaching them, she looked with mild concern between Crowley and the Time Lord. "Why is that so… hot?" she asked quietly.

Mark and Jack both laughed loudly at that, sharing a rather knowing glance, more knowing on Jack's part, who actually had experience of the scenario.

Alec jumped to his feet, blushing like a raspberry by this point, flustered and hardly knowing where to look.

"Come on Miller, we really, really need to be… in fact, no… I'm going… on my own."

He strode towards the door, which opened before he got there, Aziraphale standing in the doorway.

"Is everything ok?" the angel asked.

"Alec doesn't think it's hot when me and the Doctor fuck, angel," Crowley whined theatrically.

Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at his husband's ridiculousness.

"In which form, dearest?" he asked mildly, knowing what the answer must be.

"The other one. His, one might say."

Alec appeared utterly horrified by the expression, looking to the ceiling again, as if searching for a way out, preferably one that would erase his memory of the last five minutes. Aziraphale gave him a brief sympathetic look before admitting defeat and laughing. Crowley was terrible, but he was brilliant at it.

"Well," the angel managed eventually, "I suppose, given that it is his body too, one can sympathise. It must be rather confusing."

He guided Alec back into the room, returning him to his seat. "But I doubt you'll be putting on a performance right now, so I'm sure we can all get along just fine." He gave an exasperated glance towards Alec who had let out a sort of strangled squeal at the idea of a 'performance'. Possibly, a small, devious part of the angel, was actually quite attracted to the idea of arranging such a scenario.

But, his partner was waiting outside.

"Um, Zee wondered if we'd all like to go down to the harbour and get fish and chips for dinner. It's a lovely evening, and she wants to get out now that it's safe."

"To the pier, angel?"

"Getting back on the bike immediately, yes. She'd like to reclaim it, create more happy memories there."

"Excellent idea," Mark agreed.

"Yeah, we're definitely in," Jack added, nudging the Doctor off his lap and standing.

"Absolutely," Ellie said, gathering her things.

All eyes were on Alec, who flushed again under the attention.

"Fine!" he huffed, rolling his eyes.

*

Eight was too many for just one picnic bench, so they found two next to each other, almost creating one long table with benches at each side. Zee sat between her angel and demon, Ellie taking the other side of Crowley, while the Doctor and Jack sat opposite Aziraphale and Zee, Jack next to Mark, with Alec at the far end. The table between them all was strewn with trays of fish and chips, various drinks, and pots of sauces and condiments. Laughter and the buzz of conversation filled the air, the serious business of their witness statements over and the opportunity to enjoy each other's company irresistible.

"So… you met Casanova, and he looked like you?" Ellie asked, tipping her can of Fanta towards the Doctor, Crowley, and Alec (to his undiguised horror), in turn.

"What's the point in having a time machine if you're not going to meet your heroes?" Jack replied with a wink.

"Met?" Mark ventured drily with a significant eyebrow raised in Jack's direction.

"Me?!" Jack gasped, feigning horror at the suggestion in Mark's query, hand clutched to his chest. "I was very well behaved. You'll have to ask Crowley about that."

Crowley smirked.

"I watched you seduce that poor man, indulge yourself in some very effective foreplay, and then… well you had somewhere more important to be." The demon's voice softened at the end, as they glanced towards the Doctor with a gentler smile.

The Time Lord blushed, but Jack wrapped a possessive arm around him, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Yes I did."

Ellie smiled at them indulgently, understanding that something important must have happened, before returning her attention to Crowley, who shrugged.

"Well somebody had to take care of him afterwards."

"Which form?"

The demon grinned at her, tugging their lip between their teeth.

"Both."

"Both?"

"Yup."

Crowley offered no further explanation, letting the imaginations of their new friends run wild in pursuit of the truth. Alec was scowling at the demon, wholly disapproving of the entire conversation.

"It's like… sex tourism," the detective inspector spluttered, "historical sex tourism."

"Oh, the historical element is important," Zee contributed, smiling very sweetly at Alec. "Our adventures are always very educational, like walking through a museum come to life. The sights and sounds and smells that textbooks can't teach you; it's incredible. Well… not so much the smells necessarily. But the chain, for my Tardis key…" she enthused, drawing it from beneath her hoodie to show them, "that was bought in the markets of eighteenth century Venice."

She smiled at the Doctor, recalling the moment he'd gifted it to her.

"And as for the other part," Crowley added, "Casanova was very enthusiastic. As was his valet."

Alec looked like he wanted to throw himself into the harbour.

"And the finest history books can't confirm whether the man lived up to his reputation quite like firsthand experience can," Zee concluded, blushing slightly.

"Oh, you also…" Mark exclaimed, chuckling at Zee's nodded confirmation.

All eyes turned to the Doctor.

"No, I did not!" he protested. Several of those pairs of eyes widened, eyebrows lifting pointedly. "I only kissed him." Jack cleared his throat. "Twice." The Doctor sighed in resignation as they continued to stare. "With tongue."

"And where were you in all this?" Alec asked Aziraphale, having clearly decided that he was the most sensible of the group.

"I was on a thrilling adventure of my own, in pursuit of the lost manuscript of Giacomo Casanova's memoir." The angel spoke mostly with his hands, and wriggled excitedly in his seat, unperturbed by the exasperated shake of the head Alec gave at his response.

The conversation had moved on to some of the group's other adventures, when Zee noticed Beth by one of the nearby huts. Slipping from the bench, she approached the woman, the conversation dying behind her as the others watched with concern and curiosity.

"Hi, Beth."

"Oh, Zee. Hello." Beth smiled professionally, glancing briefly at a table behind her, where a teenager and a young girl were sat. "How are you?" she asked, turning back to Zee.

"Oh, am I interrupting? Is this… inappropriate? Sorry."

Zee blushed, stepping backwards uncertainly.

"No, no it's fine. How are you?"

"I just wanted to thank you, for coming to see me. It was really kind, and actually… really helpful too." Zee twisted the cuffs of her hoodie between her hands, keeping her bandages hidden. "You helped me see how important it is for me to keep fighting, to take control and own the situation, not letting him win."

"Oh." Beth's smile warmed, genuinely pleased by Zee's words. "That's brilliant."

"I had the opportunity to face him," Zee divulged, "and I did. I told him he wouldn't win."

"Wow… Well done." Beth cocked her head, gazing curiously at the woman in front of her, so much more animated and confident than she'd been the previous time they'd met. "And how did that make you feel?"

Zee grinned.

"Ten feet tall."

Chuckling, Beth nodded.

"He's in custody now," Zee added, "and that knowledge is so… freeing."

"You feel safer?" Beth asked, smiling as Zee nodded.

"Can I hug you?"

Beth seemed surprised by the request but nodded and allowed herself to be embraced tightly, returning the hug with a more professional, looser hold. "Thank you so much, Beth," Zee told her quietly while they held each other. "I'm going to get in touch with one of the therapists you recommended too, when I'm back home. To help with… intimacy."

"Order's up, love," the vendor called, interrupting. Zee immediately drew back, not wanting to delay Beth's dinner with her daughters. Beth kept a hand on her arm though.

"I'm really pleased to hear that, Zee. And if you need anything, you can call."

Tears threatening to spill, Zee nodded gratefully.

*

The next day, while the detectives conducted their interviews with some of Kilgrave's other victims, the occupants of the cottage determined to enjoy their holiday. Avoiding the scenes of their recent adventure, they took the Bentley on a drive along the coast, visiting the lighthouse at Portland Bill where they sat amongst the rocks on top of the cliff, enjoying the simple pleasure of a picnic in each other's company.

After an afternoon spent walking along the beautiful coastline, wind in their hair and sunshine on their faces, they returned to Broadchurch, stopping at a supermarket on the way to pick up supplies. Aziraphale and Jack cooked dinner back at the cottage; they had invited guests to join them for the evening.

Zee answered the door when the bell rang, hoodie exchanged for her fluffy cardigan since this was a dinner party, finding a grinning Ellie and an awkward Alec standing on the doorstep. She stared at the pair, eyes wide, trying to look beyond the strange assortment of items they were carrying.

Ellie held up a pink cardboard box with a handle.

"Fancy dessert from the bakery in town," she announced.

Alec proffered a bottle of wine, a box of Guylian seashells, and an almost comically large bunch of flowers.

"Thank you for inviting us," he added in apparent explanation.

Zee's mouth opened, and she reached out to take the gifts, although she didn't yet find any words to accompany the gesture.

"He doesn't get invited for dinner often," Ellie advised, leaning closer and lowering her voice, although it was still plenty loud enough for Alec to hear. "I've told him just one of the options is fine, but he doesn't seem to believe me."

"Hard to tell when you're pulling my leg sometimes, Miller," Alec grumbled, blushing.

"Well, I suppose there are five of us," Zee laughed, finally finding her voice, "although, I'm definitely going to take possession of these chocolates." She cuddled them to her chest alongside the wine, looping her other arm around the bouquet and gesturing to the guests to enter. "And Crowley will enjoy lecturing the flowers."

"Oh? Do they not… like flowers?" Alec asked, following Ellie through the door into the hallway.

"No, he loves them! They'll last three times as long with a stern talking to."

The two detectives shared a raised eyebrow, shrugging in mutual bafflement. They were becoming used to hearing things in this cottage that made no sense though.

The wine went down less well, Crowley peering at the label with a disapproving expression before tossing it over their shoulder. It landed quite safely on the kitchen counter in Alec's house, although of course he couldn't know that yet, blinking at the empty air behind the demon in confusion.

Several bottles of older, more select wine were already stood on the dining table, which was set for nine, Ellie noticed.

"Are we expecting more guests?"

As she said it, the doorbell rang again.

Zee returned to the dining room a minute later, clutching a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and a Hotel Chocolat selection box, and leading Mark and Gareth into the room.

"Hi," the two newcomers greeted everyone.

"Oh! How lovely," Ellie exclaimed excitedly, stepping forward to greet both men, with Crowley and the Doctor following suit.

Alec hung back shyly but Mark sought him out, standing in front of the detective, head cocked to one side.

"Handshake? Hug? Peck on both cheeks, à la Française?"

Alec blushed at the last suggestion, deciding to take the middle ground and opening his arms for a hug. Mark grinned at that, wrapping him in an embrace just as careful as the previous one in the detective's kitchen, unaware of the surprised and intrigued expressions being shared amongst the room's other occupants.

"I've never seen him hug anyone except his daughter," Ellie whispered to Zee, who smiled knowingly, adding the event into her blossoming collection of data.

Their speculation was interrupted by a loud 'ahem' behind them, and Aziraphale announcing that dinner would be served in just a moment, if they would all take their seats.

Dinner proceeded perfectly, the food delicious and the wine flowing (the non-alcoholic shared between Zee and Mark, the paramedic having provided it knowing that Zee didn't drink at the moment and that he was driving), almost as smoothly as the conversation.

Having been caught up on things, at least to an extent, Gareth was more comfortable than previously, and they all seemed more relaxed, a good night's sleep separating them from the difficulties of the preceding days. There was a flirtatious mood, lubricated by both the alcohol and the presence of an angel and demon in the room, the ambience of love and temptation simmering in the background unnoticed, like the best lift music.

Once the individual toffee meringue tarts supplied by Ellie had been reduced to nothing but crumbs on plates, the party moved to the living room, Mark's offer to help with the washing up waved away by a 'really?' from Aziraphale.

Zee requested that Gareth remain in the dining room for a moment when the others left, and she smiled at him nervously once they were alone.

"Gareth, I… I wanted to apologise," she began, anxiously tugging on her cardigan.

"No," he insisted, shaking his head. "Please don't apologise. Nothing that happened was your fault."

"Nor yours. And I hurt you." Her eyes glistened with tears as she eyed his shirt-clad arms, knowing he had bandages underneath.

"And what was I trying to do at the time, Zee? I wasn't exactly going to take you to Disneyland if you didn't fight." He glanced at the bandages on her hands sadly. "And I hurt you too, if a little more indirectly."

"Ellie explained?" Zee gazed at him curiously.

Gareth nodded.

"I'm sorry, Zee. About what happened to you. I've… I've felt him in my head, and I can't imagine…"

"He can't hurt us now," she stated firmly. And then she approached, arms out, and hugged him. When she let go, she smiled, a knowing glitter in her eyes. "Let's join the others. I'm not the woman you should be spending your evening with."

*

The following evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, the five waited at the end of the pier.

After a lazy morning, they'd enjoyed a walk inland along the river, stopping at the brewery where Crowley's friend George Whittaker had once been a manager, for a quick taste of the local ale. The place looked much as it had 150 years earlier, the building still with its characteristic thatched roof, and Crowley declared the brew just as good, the Doctor spluttering a frowning challenge to the words, beer not being quite to his taste.

A message from Ellie had indicated that the detectives would like to meet them later, and thus they found themselves back at the place where their adventure had begun several days earlier, awaiting their friend's arrival.

To their surprise, Mark strolled along the pier just after them, equally as curious as they were, having received a similarly cryptic message. Then James and Charlotte Wilson appeared, closely followed by Kate Thompson, who seemed particularly bashful when she saw Zee, back in the location where they'd first met. Lisa and Steve Campbell approached the group, greeting the Wilsons, whom they knew, and talking with them quietly. Finally, as the time for the meeting came around, they all observed Ellie and Gareth walking down the pier hand in hand, and behind them, Alec, supporting Mrs Jarvis who had clearly insisted on walking to the rendezvous herself. He sat her on a bench before taking up a more prominent position with Ellie, who cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Thank you all for coming. DI Hardy and I have been working on the paperwork over the past couple of days, and we submitted our report to UNIT yesterday evening. We heard back from them this afternoon, and DI Hardy would like to tell you all what they had to say."

She turned to Alec who shifted uncomfortably as everyone focused on him.

"Right, yes, thank you DS Miller. UNIT advised this afternoon that having considered our report, particularly with regard to the extensive eyewitness accounts, they can confirm that the man you all met, who goes by the name of Kilgrave, will be detained indefinitely in a secure location, for the general safety of the public. You can all rest assured that he will not be able to interfere with you again."

He turned to Zee, delivering his next words to her more directly. "You are safe." Nodding to her, and receiving a small smile in return, he spoke to everyone again. "And it's all thanks to you, for providing such crucial testimony. So, thank you everyone. Good work." He punctuated the speech with a firm nod, frowning awkwardly.

"Thank you, Detective Inspector," Aziraphale replied, "for pursuing the case with such commitment, and taking our story seriously when it must have sounded so ridiculous."

Alec glanced towards Zee again, his expression softening as he looked at her, before passing his gaze over Crowley and returning it to the angel.

"The evidence was compelling, Aziraphale."

After a moment, he realised that everyone was still staring at him. "We're done. You can go if you like," he suggested, a little flustered by the continued attention.

Some of the figures began to move away, the two married couples heading off quickly.

Kate Thompson approached Zee, who was sat between her partners.

"Hi," she said nervously.

"Hi," Zee replied gently, giving the woman a warm smile.

"I'm… really sorry. I had no idea what…"

"It's ok," Zee reassured her, fingers playing with her pendant, the real one, "It's not your fault."

Meanwhile, the Doctor had made his way over to Mrs Jarvis, sitting next to her and taking her hand in his, just as he'd done before, on a different bench.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Jarvis. I'm so, so sorry."

She looked at him, her old eyes twinkling.

"From what I hear, you made the best of an impossible situation, young man. And you arranged for me to fall into the arms of an extremely handsome angel, so I can't complain too loudly."

"Oh…" the Doctor exclaimed, surprised by her response and casting an astonished glance over to the extremely handsome angel.

"I don't have much adventure these days," she added, leaning in and almost whispering. "And he had such lovely strong arms."

"Right…"

A nurse approached. He'd hung back while the detectives were making their speeches, but had come now to collect his patient and return her to the hospital where she was still under observation for another couple of days. The Doctor handed her over with a bewildered smile, and when she'd gone, he rejoined his friends.

Once it was just the nine of them, stood on the platform in a circle, Alec delved into his jacket pocket and pulled something out.

"There was one other thing," he announced.

Uncurling his hand, he held it out towards the group, and they all leaned forward, observing the duplicate pendant sitting in his palm. "I wasn't sure what you'd want to do with this. Zee?"

Clutching the original around her neck tightly, Zee considered for a moment, everyone else waiting for her verdict.

"Anyone got a hammer?" she asked eventually.

Crowley snapped theatrically, and the requested tool appeared in their hand. They presented it to their partner with a small bow.

Holding the hammer loosely in her hand, Zee gestured to Alec to place the pendant on the ground. The detective complied, throwing it onto the concrete at the centre of the circle, and Zee knelt down next to it, gazing at it thoughtfully.

"I might imagine it's his skull," she mused.

Alec caught Jack's gaze, wincing slightly at the words, and noticing how tightly the Doctor was holding his partner's hand. Jack smiled though.

"Damn right, Zee," he encouraged, and she nodded determinedly, lifting the hammer.

"Fuck you, Kilgrave!" she all but shouted, an angry growl in her voice, as she swung the hammer down onto the pendant with a concentrated aim. The stone shattered beneath the blow, and the elegant strands of gold twisted under the blunt force of the hammer as they rocked against the concrete. With increasing freedom, she repeated the action, backing up each strike with a groan as she put her whole soul into every one.

"Anyone else?" she enquired eventually, holding up the hammer, eyes bright as she gazed around the circle. And one by one, each of the others added their own blows to the destruction of the pendant, reducing it to a mangled, flattened piece of metal surrounded by tiny shards of golden crystal.

After their turn, each person received a hug from Zee, alongside her thanks for their help, now and previously. Last to go was Alec, who gazed at the destruction with satisfaction before turning his attention to Zee. She drew him in firmly, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, relaxing into the warmth of the embrace.

"Thank you, Alec," she murmured into his shoulder, "I don't think I'd be here without you."

"Just doing my job," he replied modestly, and Zee scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous," she protested, "You were awesome. I have eyewitnesses."

Laughing resignedly, he stroked her back a little awkwardly. She was persistent, and he knew already not to argue.

"Right then," Crowley declared, once they were all done, and the remnants of the pendant had been erased from existence by demonic miracle, "Pub?"

*

There was a new addition to the harbourside at lunchtime the next day; an unassuming blue box nestled next to the apartment building at the bottom of the steps up to the police station. Illegally parked right beside it, the Bentley's sleek lines shimmered in the midday sun, and between them, a huddle of people, sipping take-away tea and coffee, chatting, and hugging, were saying their goodbyes prior to parting.

They all turned when another vehicle appeared and was parked carefully, somehow unobtrusively, at the side of the road. It was an SUV, and was louder in its appearance than either the spaceship or the vintage Bentley; white printed over with green and an alarming shade of yellow, the words 'AMBULANCE RESPONDER' in large explanatory print across any surface spacious enough to hold the text. A second later, a bear of a man in dark green utility shirt and trousers jumped out, clutching a large paper bag. He ran over to the group, grinning with mingled happiness and relief.

"I didn't miss you!" Mark held out the bag. "I brought doughnuts!"

"Ooh, how lovely," Aziraphale commented, immediately approaching Mark, "Let me help you with those." His smile was soft but the 'grabby' gestures his hands were making made those observing him giggle, especially those who knew his appetite for sweet things best.

Hungrier however, were the looks being lavished upon Mark himself by several members of the group. Crowley smirked, tossing their hair back over their shoulders and cocking their hip obscenely, despite knowing this would not be the paramedic's preferred corporation. The Doctor's jaw was practically on the floor, and beside him, his partner's eyes were ablaze, lip tucked between his teeth as he openly swiped his gaze up and down the muscular form.

"Daaamn… that uniform…" the immortal murmured, and although the Doctor's brow furrowed briefly into a frown, he couldn't help but nod his agreement.

Giggling behind her hand as she watched her friends and lovers fall apart so obviously, Zee turned her eyes curiously to Alec. It appeared that he'd also noticed the way the others were responding, and that observation had him flushed a bright shade of pink, his gaze determinedly fixed anywhere except Mark, hands on his hips as he studied the pavement slabs beneath his feet, before spinning slightly, and glaring at the sky exasperatedly.

Ellie was covering her giggles, caught between her own appreciation of Mark's physique and uncontrollable laughter at the effect it was having, by digging into the bag of doughnuts with Aziraphale. Mark was still holding the bag, keeping it upright while two pairs of greedy hands explored.

Shaking her head, Zee moved closer to Alec, who was now conducting a very focused investigation of the wooden cladding on the police station, having completely turned his back on the others. He flinched when she laid a gentle hand on his bicep, but settled immediately when he saw who it was, grimacing slightly.

"It's all a bit ridiculous," he stated somewhat scathingly.

Zee smirked.

"Which part? The passion for doughnuts or the raw sexual desire?"

Alec almost choked at her response, glaring at her, although there was zero heat behind it. She noted the fear in his eyes, almost hidden behind a blanket of uncertainty, and she stroked her thumb over the fabric of his navy blue coat.

"Both," he managed to enunciate once he'd recovered himself, and Zee's expression softened into an easy smile.

"Ok," she accepted, drawing closer to him. "You know, you're allowed to want things just because, and to enjoy them simply because they're fun or because they taste good."

Alec pulled a face, snorting and looking the other way again.

Zee rolled her eyes, but reached up and pressed a firm, undeniable kiss against his scruffy cheek. Bringing her mouth close to his ear, she whispered, "Eat a doughnut, Alec. I dare you."

Leaning back, she watched him process the last thirty seconds, sure she could hear the cogs whirring in his brain, and waited for him to look at her, which he did, finally. Desire mingled through the fear in the depths of his gaze, and Zee nodded, satisfied.

It was Alec's turn to roll his eyes, but he was clearly losing his fight against the need to smile, and he shook his head as he resigned himself to it.

"Ugh… they told me about you, about your stubbornness and your… sparkle," he huffed, hardly able to believe he'd uttered that word, "and it was hard to see it, because my experience was obviously different. But… I'm pleased to meet you, Zee."

His pale skin flushed brighter at the admission, and Zee understood what an admission it was from this closed-off, repressed individual. She hugged him.

"Likewise, detective inspector."

A few minutes later, she watched as Alec shyly took a simple glazed doughnut from Mark and bit into it as if it was some awful health food that he was being forced to eat. He couldn't quite hide the pleasure though, as his eyes brightened, nor the blush as Mark dabbed at a spot of jam on his cheek with a napkin.

Ellie sidled up next to her.

"You'll have to share your secret," she said quietly, nudging Zee's shoulder.

"Is there one?" Zee queried, blushing slightly.

"They all eat out of the palm of your hand," Ellie scoffed, still keeping her voice low, "including Alec bloody Hardy. There must be a secret!"

"Kill them with kindness?" It was speculative, but not an altogether unserious suggestion.

"Hmm, I prefer to tease him to death," Ellie mused.

"Well, we could try a good cop, bad cop approach."

"And I have to be the bad cop?" Arms folded, Ellie raised her eyebrows in what was clearly mock annoyance.

"Sounds like the natural order of things," Zee confirmed with a wink, before heading over to say goodbye to Mark.

As she leaned against his chest, encircled in his strong arms, she thought it likely that a hug from the paramedic might be enough to cure all the ills of the world.

"Take care of yourself, Zee. Small steps, no running before you can walk, yeah?" She could feel the words reverberating through his chest before she heard them, and smiled, understanding exactly why her boys were losing their minds over him.

"I'll do my best," she vowed, "since it's on the advice of my personal medic."

"The Doctor not fill that role for you?"

"Nah, he likes running too much."

Mark probably didn't understand the full application of her words, but he chuckled, dropping a kiss into her hair.

"Mark?"

"Yep."

"Look after him. And don't let him push you away. Be a nuisance, turn up, insert yourself into his life. You can get to him, I think. And he needs someone to do that."

She felt him nodding above her head, and thought he was probably watching Alec as he did so. The detective was saying his goodbyes to Aziraphale.

"I'll do my best."

"I'll be checking up on you," Zee warned him, and he laughed again, squeezing her tighter.

"I don't doubt it."

A couple of beeps and some static sounded beside Zee's ear then, followed by some words and numbers she couldn't quite follow. She jumped back, watching as Mark listened closely, before bringing the radio pinned to his uniform closer to his mouth and speaking his response.

"Right, that's me. Gotta go!" he announced, already beginning to jog backwards towards his car, and waving at the group. "See you all soon."

They all waved back, some with sticky doughnuts grasped in their hands, calling out their goodbyes, and before they knew it, Mark was gone, lights flashing and siren blaring as he manoeuvred around the tight roads surrounding the harbour.

"Is it just me?" Jack asked, once a degree of silence had settled over them, "Or is it really hot that he's about to go and save a life?"

"Jack!"

"Oh, come on Doctor, you'd fake a heart attack to get mouth to mouth from those lips," Crowley pointed out, "Or even have one, since you've got two of the things so it wouldn't be a problem."

"That's…" Alec spluttered, "not how anything works…"

"I'm not sure that's the point, dear," Aziraphale suggested, patting the detective's shoulder.

"And on that note, it's time we were going," the Doctor announced, glaring daggers at Crowley, although blushing brightly enough to prove the demon right. He dragged Jack towards the Tardis, hoping to get him into the ship before he caused any more trouble.

Jack waved at everyone, happily allowing his partner to pull him along.

"I'll see you in a couple days," he told his poly family, before turning his attention to their new friends, "And you, don't be strangers."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Captain," Ellie winked.

The couple disappeared into the Tardis, and the remaining members of the group watched as the ship dematerialised a few seconds later.

"We should also be heading off," Aziraphale said, a note of disappointment threaded through his voice.

"But Jack's right," Crowley added, looping an arm each around the shoulders of Alec and Ellie and drawing them closer to himself, ignoring Alec's expression of horror and wriggling attempts to escape, "Bookshop door's always open to you if you're in the city."

As Crowley released them, Ellie used her freedom to wrap the demon in a hug, while Alec attempted to straighten his clothes, completely flustered.

"I try to avoid London where possible," he protested, "it's loud and unnecessary."

Zee giggled as she approached him, sliding her hand into the detective's and squeezing it.

"The bookshop is a soundproofed oasis of calm. I think you'd like it," she advised softly.

Aziraphale joined them, smiling fondly and smoothing his hand down from Alec's shoulder to his free hand, taking it in his and holding it gently.

"The kettle is always on, detective. And I have an extensive collection of first edition Agatha Christies."

Eyes widening, Alec struggled to respond for a moment, before laughing heartily at the suggestion.

"Are we going?" Crowley enquired loudly. The demon was leaning exasperatedly on the driver's side of the Bentley.

Minutes later, Alec and Ellie stood together by the side of the road, watching the car sweep around to the bridge and speed off into the town.

"You never did give them that ticket for speeding, did you?" Ellie noted.

"Hmm," Alec glowered, eyeing the road where the Bentley had recently been as if it had personally offended him.

Ellie stared at him, amusement on her face, considering how much more exciting than a speeding ticket things had become subsequently. He noticed her expression and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning back towards the station.

"Shut up, Miller!"

"I didn't say anything," she protested as she followed him, a smirk settling on her lips.

"I can hear you thinking… and worse, giggling." He shuddered.

"Oh, come on, you had fun!" She caught up with him, grinning. He turned to her, dismay etched on his features. Briefly incapable of speech, he finally scoffed and then found his words.

"I think we should work with other people, Miller," he announced.

Gobsmacked, she gasped dramatically.

"Are you breaking up with me, Hardy?"

Barging through the door and entering the station, Alec groaned, pausing in the doorway to hold the door open for her.

"I should be so lucky," he muttered, before adding, more loudly, "Bring tea, Miller. I'll be in my office."

Chapter Text

Six Weeks Later

Sucking the sea air deep into her lungs, Zee watched the boats bobbing on the water of the harbour. It was relatively sedate here, although she could hear the louder roar of the waves beyond the pier, and see the spray occasionally smashing and scattering above the concrete with thrilling power. It was late November now, and the weather had finally succumbed to the draw of autumn, descending rapidly towards winter.

A seagull protested loudly, squawking as it was blown off course by the breeze and struggled to assert its right to land on one of the rocking fishing boats. Zee smiled as she watched it, pleased to be here, making the most of her newfound freedom.

Turning from the harbour, she proceeded along the road, up the hill, following for a moment a route she'd taken once before, at much greater speed, breathless and terrified as she ran from Gareth and the seeming inevitability of Kilgrave's control. Lifting her hand to the scarf wrapped around her neck, she felt the familiar bump of her pendant, protecting her still, despite the man being securely under lock and key, his utterances heard by nobody but himself these days.

A powerful combination of angelic and demonic magic meant that only Zee could remove the pendant from its place around her neck. Even the authors of the spell couldn't do so, ensuring that it could never be taken from her, putting her mind entirely in her own power. Such protection gave her the confidence to be here now, unaccompanied and pushing herself to regain her independence.

As she continued up the hill, she adjusted her backpack, feeling the weight of its contents settling against her spine. Her phone buzzed and she retrieved it from her handbag, opening the text message and smiling at the contents.

Ellie: Definitely at home, I just dropped him off. He's in a foul mood though, good luck x

She typed out a quick reply, closing in on her destination.

Zee: Thanks. I'll be good cop, cheer him up! Hopefully see you next time, though. I'll bring Crowley for a girl's night 😉 x

And while she was thinking of her demon…

Zee: Arrived safely x x

Looking up, she saw Alec's house and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. It was a surprise visit, and she wasn't actually sure how he'd respond to that, but he was a hard man to pin down, and this had felt like the only way. After briefly glancing at the field opposite, shoving memories of her previous visits there down into the locked box where they belonged, she pushed open the gate and stepped through, approaching the front door and ringing the bell.

Several long moments passed before it was answered, and she heard Alec before she saw him.

"I swear to god, Miller, if that's…" he paused, blinking in surprise as the door opened far enough for him to see who it actually was, "…you."

"Detective Inspector," Zee greeted him, smiling.

"You," Alec repeated, still processing. "What are you doing here?"

Zee giggled, turning slightly so he could see the bulging backpack.

"I brought dinner."

He leaned out of the door, looking past and around her.

"Just you?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

"How did you get here?"

"Train."

"On your own?" His face was screwed up with apparent concern, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I'm a grown woman, detective."

"I'd noticed," he pointed out, grumpily.

"Oh, really…" Zee flirted, eyebrows lifted and a slight smirk on her lips.

Alec appeared alarmed by that, and clearly considered closing the door, but finally just blushed brightly and huffed.

"I mean, as a detective, it hadn't escaped my notice."

"Sure," Zee agreed, nodding, "May I come in?"

"Do I have a choice?" he enquired, as he moved out of the way, gesturing for her to enter.

"Always," she insisted, smiling sweetly as she passed by him into the hallway.

She headed straight into the kitchen and dumped her backpack on the table there, opening it up and pulling out a head of broccoli, some green beans, and a heavy dish wrapped in foil. "Oven on for the shepherd's pie, please."

Zee kept up the conversation mostly single-handedly while she prepared dinner, reheating the shepherd’s pie she'd made the day before, and steaming the vegetables. She filled Alec in on how everyone was, what had been going on at the bookshop, a special trip they’d been on with the Doctor and Jack for Aziraphale’s birthday, and how she'd been faring with her new therapist and her gentle, staggered return to work.

"My deputy is still doing the job really, but I've been going in a couple of days a week and taking some of the load off her. My brain still gets tired easily, but handling the lots again is wonderful. I can settle into it, the rhythm of extracting all the information and assessing the piece, working the muscles of my knowledge."

Alec smiled, genuinely enjoying listening to her babble on about her job. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it was great to hear her so happy.

Once they were sat at the table together, eating generous portions of the comforting, home-cooked food, she asked him more about what he'd been up to.

"You know I can't really talk about work."

"No, but outside of that. What have you been doing when you're not at work?"

He seemed confused, taking a mouthful of meat and vegetables to buy himself some time.

"I'm just here," he said finally, but Zee raised an eyebrow, knowing already that that wasn't quite true. "Well, Daisy came to visit. She mostly went out with her friends, but I took her to the Sea Life Centre at Weymouth; she still loves the penguins, even though she's a teenager and I'm a boring old man these days."

Zee giggled at that characterisation.

"You don't have to be, you know," she teased, "You're still young, really."

Alec snorted.

"Not in my daughter's opinion."

"Did you enjoy the penguins?" Zee asked, taking a bite of some broccoli and watching her companion carefully.

"Who doesn't enjoy penguins?" Alec replied noncommittally.

"Hmm." Zee chose to allow the non-answer. "You're what… mid forties? Decades ahead of you."

"Forty-nine."

"See, still under fifty. Not old yet, detective."

"Barely!" he scoffed. "Declining inelegantly into the depths of middle age, I think you'll find."

"Sexy," Zee replied drily, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Alec, don't write yourself off. You can still learn new things about yourself, have new adventures. I heard a rumour you flew a spaceship recently."

He rolled his eyes at that, turning his head to gaze at the wall.

"Jeez, Zee, not you too." He looked back to her, eyes narrowed. "That should be less impressive to you."

She shrugged.

"He'd take you somewhere, if you wanted. See another planet, the future, your favourite period of history."

"I don't have a favourite period of history." He seemed aghast at the suggestion. "And seeing the future is dangerous."

"So, another planet then?"

"This one's bad enough," he grumbled and Zee sighed, fighting back a laugh.

"Fine. But speaking of here, what else have you been up to? Smaller adventures, without the necessity of space travel."

"Ellie conned me into having dinner at her house," Alec answered mournfully, causing Zee to lose her battle against laughter. She shook her head, exasperated.

"Well, you wouldn't have agreed otherwise," Zee pointed out.

"Perhaps that's a sign."

"To work smarter…"

"To leave me alone!" he interrupted. He gave Zee another of those toothless glares she'd become used to, and she giggled. "Hang on… you knew, didn't you?"

"I may have been involved in the tactical planning," Zee admitted with a sly smile.

"She knows you're here right now," he stated, not even bothering to make it a question.

"She dropped you off, Alec, exactly as we planned."

"Oh, for fuck's…" He trailed off, glaring at the ceiling. "Why?"

"We're your friends."

She waited, and eventually he lowered his gaze, meeting hers.

"I don't have friends."

Holding his gaze, she gave him a very measured look.

"Seen Mark recently?" she asked eventually.

"You tell me," he sighed.

"I'd like your version." She didn't deny knowing, because that wasn't the point.

"He turns up, when I'm at work. Like he did the day you lot left, if he's 'in the area' and I'm at the station. He turns up with a take-away tea, or a brownie, or doughnuts again. He brought soup, one day last week, told me to come down to the pier and he was sat there with a flask and two cups, and there was homemade lentil soup."

Zee smiled very knowingly, enjoying his rendition, and his utter obliviousness to the fact that that sounded a lot like a date.

"Which you knew about already," he added accusingly.

"I gave him the recipe. He's a terrible cook, but that one's foolproof with a soup maker."

"But…"

"Are you going to the Christmas market with him next week?"

"No."

"Why not? You might find something special for Daisy, something different that'll really make her smile."

"Why would I…"

"And you can get something for Aziraphale and Crowley, to thank them for inviting you to their Christmas party."

That quieted his protests.

He stared at her, baffled.

"What?"

She reached for her bag and drew out a small piece of card. It was an invitation, old-fashioned, on thick cardstock, with beautifully embossed golden stars around the edge. Aziraphale's gorgeous calligraphy filled the space, inviting 'Detective Inspector Alec Hardy' to 'an intimate gathering of close friends' at the bookshop a few days before Christmas.

Alec gazed at the invitation with wide eyes, speechless.

Zee waited.

"Why?" he asked eventually, clearly trying for his usual disdain for social gatherings but his voice quivering slightly with an edge of emotion that Zee naturally picked up on. She smiled.

"We're your friends," she repeated simply. "It won't be loud; Aziraphale doesn't really like music that's less than a century old, although I'm sure Crowley will slip in some Slade and Shakin' Stevens at some point, and if he doesn't, I will. But there will be mulled wine and mince pies and the Christmas tree in the bookshop is magical, quite literally."

"But…"

"You're not working, Ellie saw to that. Aziraphale posted the other invitations, but I decided to hand deliver yours. Because you're exactly the kind of person to claim it got lost in the post."

Alec opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. A faint blush was visible on his cheeks, and Zee knew she'd won.

"Ok," he agreed. "I'll consider it."

*

When Zee's phone buzzed a couple of hours later, indicating that her lift home had arrived, she was cosy on the sofa beneath a blanket, curled against Hardy's side. The remnants of their sticky toffee pudding and custard sat in abandoned bowls on the coffee table, and the final scenes of Knives Out were playing on the television. Zee had brought the DVD and Alec had reluctantly allowed her to put it on after dinner.

He'd definitely enjoyed it more than he'd be willing to admit.

At first, Zee had simply been sat next to him, observing each little twitch in his jaw as he fought a laugh, noting the quiet twinkle in his eyes. She knew the film well enough not to need to watch carefully, and watched Alec as much as the screen, studying him and filing away all the things she was learning.

As the evening wore on, she'd adjusted her position several times, to Hardy's mild annoyance, eventually leaning against him fully and resting her head against his shoulder. Ultimately an arm had slipped around his waist too, but only once she was sure he was settled and at least semi-relaxed: He'd allowed her to move closer each time, uncertainty in his expression but no verbal protest being made at any point, and she'd taken each step gradually to give him the opportunity should he really wish her to stop.

His arm had rested along the back of the sofa, deliberately kept away from her for a long time, until it finally slipped down onto her shoulder once she'd wrapped hers around his waist. He was warm, and although he held himself a little stiffly, never fully relaxing, she satisfied herself with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, maintained, she knew, by the little pacemaker fitted in his chest. With her head there, listening to it, she could feel each subtle vibration of the laughter that tried to escape him as he watched the movie, and it made her smile every time.

"Worst cop in Britain, they call me, but I've got nothing on this Benoit Blanc," he groaned, "This is no way to conduct a murder investigation."

"I knew you'd like it," Zee murmured against his chest.

"Hmm."

When the credits rolled, Alec shifted, some kind of spell breaking with the end of the film and making him realise how close they were. Zee sat up, stretching out her limbs after being curled up for too long.

"My lift home is waiting outside," she informed Alec.

"Oh." It appeared not to have occurred to him when or how she'd be going. "It's getting late," he commented.

"Yes, that won't be a problem."

She headed through to the kitchen to collect her things.

Getting up from the sofa himself, Alec went to the window and peered through the curtains. Just beyond the garden gate, a tall, rectangular shape sat amongst the shadows. One of its doors was slightly ajar, light emerging through the crack and allowing him to see the figure leaning casually against the doorframe.

Pretty boy, Alec thought, watching as the Doctor scuffed the toe of his Converse against the edge of a crooked paving slab, hands thrust deep in his pockets, staring at the ground. Sensing he was being watched, the Time Lord looked up and noticed Alec, smiling and pulling one hand free to give him a little salute in greeting.

It'd actually been what most people would regard as a fairly ordinary evening; a home-cooked meal, conversation, a film, but of course with these people, things were never ordinary, and now Zee's alien boyfriend was collecting her in his spaceship to take her home to her angel and demon.

Nodding to the Doctor, Alec closed the curtain and went to find Zee. She met him in the hallway, coat on, scarf around her neck, and backpack swinging from one shoulder.

"Everything's in the dishwasher, I can collect the dish next time," she said, heading towards the front door.

"Next time?" Alec appeared mildly alarmed.

"Well… unless you had such a terrible time that you never want to see me again. Apart from Aziraphale and Crowley's Christmas party, which you're definitely coming to, obviously."

"What I actually said…" Alec gave up, sighing heavily. "Yes, ok… it wasn't terrible. But why would you…" He cut himself off again, groaning. "You're my friend," he recited, recalling her repeated insistence from earlier.

"Now you're getting it," she grinned. He was still standing by the living room door, and she walked back to hug him, feeling the embrace returned with more warmth than she'd experienced from him previously. "You can tell me what you want me to make next time. I do requests."

Laughing, Alec hugged her tighter.

"Thank you."

Zee kissed his cheek before pulling back completely.

"Of course." She eyed him seriously. "Go to the Christmas market with Mark. It'd mean the world to him," she added.

Instinctive exasperation was soon replaced by resignation and just a hint of something else that reminded Zee suspiciously of happiness in Hardy's eyes.

"Fine," he replied, almost pouting.

Zee returned to the door and opened it, smiling at the Doctor, before turning back to her host.

"We'll stop if you really want us to, Alec. But… try not to."

Leaning against the wall, arms folded, Alec smiled.

"You'll be the death of me."

"Hope not," Zee winked, walking backwards along the path.

As she approached the gate, she reached back with her hand, seeking out the one that was already outstretched, waiting for her. They clasped together, fingers entwining, and Alec watched the ease of the gesture with a dull ache at the base of his chest, not quite close enough to his heart to be of medical concern. And then he thought about the evening he'd just had, and lunchtimes with Mark, and another evening, not dissimilar to this one, with Ellie and her family, and he realised that he did have something, if he didn't push it away. For reasons beyond his comprehension, these people liked him, and were willing to make the effort to show him that.

"See you soon, Alec."

He looked up to see Zee and the Doctor stood in the doorway of the Tardis, Zee's backpack on the floor behind them and the Time Lord's arm around her shoulders.

"See you soon, detective," the Doctor added, waving.

"Yep. See you later. Apparently."

They disappeared into the ship, closing the door, and Alec watched as it dematerialised a few seconds later, wheezing loudly in the darkness.

The noise was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he fished it out, glancing at the screen.

Ellie: How was dinner?

Rolling his eyes, he thumbed the message away and opened up another conversation, typing out a reply he should've sent a couple of days ago.

Alec: I'm free, for the Christmas market. Sounds good.

The last part was added after much deliberation, Alec finally concluding that it wasn't too much.

A reply came through quickly.

Mark: Excellent! I'll pick you up on the way, details TBA nearer the time. Looking forward to it 😊

Alec wasn't sure why the response made him blush.

*

"Mind if we take a little detour?"

Zee laughed, unsurprised by the request. The Doctor was practically incapable of travelling straight to anywhere; it was one of his defining characteristics.

"Of course, anywhere particular in mind?"

It was their first time travelling alone together since… everything. In fact, they'd really had only a few moments alone during the past weeks, since she'd been able to be around him again, usually chaperoned by at least one of their friends or partners, the only exception being a dinner date last week, at the French place around the corner from the bookshop, in preparation for tonight's trip to Alec's house, testing her ability to be alone with a doppelgänger for an extended period.

Tonight's visit had been reluctantly agreed to by Aziraphale and Crowley, Zee declaring that she was ready for a trip alone, and the angel and demon realising that it was pointless to argue. Instead, they'd insisted on some safety measures, dropping her off at the station and arranging for the Doctor to pick her up from Alec's house. Crowley had wanted to travel with her, but she'd refused, determined to make the journey alone, so he'd relented, requiring quarter-hourly updates until she was in Broadchurch and a final text to let him know that she'd arrived at Alec's house. It was too much, she thought, but if this trip went well, then they'd ease up, and she understood why they were so worried.

"Not too far," the Doctor answered as he programmed their destination into the console. As was usual when they travelled alone, he invited Zee to pull the lever, and set them on their way.

When the ship settled, he took Zee's hand and led her to the door, keeping a tight hold of her when he opened it.

The reason for his caution became apparent immediately: They were floating in space, high above the Earth, the view of the planet beneath them incredible.

After guiding Zee to sit in the doorway, legs dangling out into the space below, the Doctor sat beside her, still holding her hand, and smiling delightedly when she leaned against him, her free hand excitedly gripping his thigh.

"Doctor, it's beautiful."

"Hmm. I just thought it would be nice to take a moment to look at it, from up here. It's a bit cloudy tonight, but the UK is just there." He pointed to a dark mass of cloud, which, judging by the shapes of some of the groups of lights that were visible in surrounding areas of the planet where the weather was a little better, was probably roughly the location of her home.

"Typically hidden by cloud, I see," Zee giggled.

"Yeah. Could've changed the time, given you a better view, but this is nice."

"No, I like it this way. We didn't magic up perfection, it's just… ordinary."

"I bring you up into space to look down on the Earth, and you're going with ordinary?" he questioned, feigning offence.

"I think I class our dates as ordinary if they take place within view of my home planet, Doctor," Zee explained very seriously, biting back a smile.

"Oh… like that, is it?"

They both smiled, squeezing each other's hands.

"We were up here, kind of like this, me and Jack, when we got the summons from Aziraphale to come back to the bookshop. When you got home from New York." He paused, and Zee nodded her understanding, gazing at him with such affection that he had to swallow and clear his throat before continuing. "I'd just told Jack about a special date I'd got planned, for you. And… I was…" He faltered, not quite finding the words.

Zee's eyes widened as she realised what he meant, her whole body melting, warm and liquid. She leaned closer, lifting her hand from his thigh to cup his jaw instead, pausing just before their mouths met.

"This is special enough," she whispered, before pressing her lips gently against his. They were soft, pliant, and he whimpered against her mouth, surprised by the gesture despite the slowness of her advance advertising her intent. He recalled the advice he'd been given regarding Zee's current feelings about being touched, and allowed himself only to rest his free hand against her back, the other still holding onto hers tightly.

It was a chaste kiss, just their lips touching with a firm but not heated pressure. She'd not kissed lips like these since the lobby of the hotel in New York, and she'd not really planned to do so tonight, knowing it was a big step. But the love and the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd spoken about his scuppered plans had made it impossible not to kiss him.

Her little finger was against his pulse point, as her hand continued to rest at the base of his jaw, and she could feel the rapid double-rhythm of his twin pulses, grounding her in the knowledge that this was her Doctor, making it possible for her to commit to the kiss, and let it linger carefully. It didn't grow, but it stood firm and steadfast, and that felt right.

When she did pull back, it wasn't far, and she gazed into his eyes, breathing long, slow breaths to steady her racing heart. His eyes were impossibly soft, and despite the age that was always there, the pain and loneliness of experience that she'd noticed the very first time she'd looked into them, just over a year ago now, there was something young and hopeful too.

They shared a smile, slow and simple and secret, and he didn't actually need to say a word, because it was all there, in that smile.

"I love you."

He spoke softly, although there was a sureness that made the words penetrate through every cell in Zee's body. And they were special, spoken only for her, in this little bubble of oxygen, their own world up above the real one below.

She beamed, delight at hearing the confirmation she'd craved for so long, and relief that he'd finally felt comfortable enough to say it, combining into a simple joy.

"I know," she replied, biting her lip and letting her eyes twinkle mischievously. It was, in reality, the only appropriate response, given all their history. But he also understood the reference.

"Never going to live that down, am I?" he laughed, and Zee laughed with him.

"No, obviously not."

She kissed him again, briefly this time.

"I love you too, Doctor," she said, breathing the words into his mouth. "I love you so much."

She choked on the final words, barely keeping her emotions in check long enough to complete the sentence, before wrapping her arm around him and collapsing against his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. He wasn't far behind, the emotion of their first reunion hitting them both all over again, and they sat there, floating above the Earth, clinging to each other for a long time, before they felt able to return.

She'd got her Doctor back, and more than that, she'd got him wholly, more than she'd ever had before.