The delay has been long with chapter 12 because, frankly, I had trouble building chapter 13. (I don't post a chapter until THE NEXT ONE is finished, at least!) So, there are some exciting things on the horizon...

For now, we are coming down off the roof from an intense, fifteen-story-high encounter with Daniel Edge that pushed Curtis to the brink, and may still. When we left off, he had promised to finish the drawing by noon, and Edge had gone back to London, convinced that tonight's the night with Stephanie. At this point, things are a bit desperate...

Enjoy!

TWELVE

Stephanie was leaning out the door of the Malmays' flat as her four new friends came down the balcony walkway toward her.

"What happened?" she asked. "I heard screaming."

When she spoke, the group was about ten feet away from the door. With Tim in the lead. Curtis stopped in his tracks, seeing Stephanie for the very first time, causing Martha to plow into him.

"It's her. It's you. What are you doing in our flat?" Curtis asked, sounding panicked. He turned toward Tim. "I swear, I swear I didn't do this. I didn't draw her face, Tim, I promise…"

Tears were coming to his eyes as he spoke fast, and anyone could see that Curtis was on the edge of a meltdown.

"No, mate, no, it's okay," Tim said, to his brother, now crying on his shoulder. "She came and found us, to try and get rid of Edge. Go figure, eh?"

"Probably best to get inside now, eh?" the Doctor gently suggested.

Stephanie moved out of the way, and Tim wrestled a reluctant Curtis into the flat, followed by the TARDIS crew, one of whom shut, locked and sonicked the door for good measure.

Tim guided Curtis to the sofa, while the latter was still quite upset. Martha said, "Why don't we go in the kitchen and make some tea for everyone, yeah?" And she urged Stephanie and the Doctor into the next room.

"Okay, now… roof. What the hell happened?" Stephanie asked.

The Doctor and Martha both set about trying to locate some tea bags and mugs. "You can probably guess," the Doctor replied, opening the cabinet over the stove. "They dangled Curtis off the side of the building until he agreed to finish the drawing."

"Is Daniel drunk?"

"Yep," said the Doctor. "And loud, and boorish… and tall, as it turns out."

"Is Curtis going to finish the drawing?" Stephanie whispered, coming in close.

"I don't know what he'll do, to be honest," the Doctor said.

"That's why I should just… you know…" Stephanie said.

"Found them," Martha said pulling a box of tea bags out of a drawer. "And no, Stephanie, that's not why you just give yourself up. That's why it's important for me and the Doctor to get back to the TARDIS and finish our work."

"What's a TARDIS?" asked Stephanie.

"It's my… spsssshhh," the Doctor muttered.

"Your what?"

"His spaceship," Martha sighed. "He's not human, remember? So, that means, many things about him are not human, including how he travels."

The Doctor frowned and checked the kettle for water, then moved to the sink to fill it.

"So, you're going to go back to your spaceship to work on a thing that will zap Curtis' autism away? God, I can't believe I just said that out loud, and in earnest."

"We never said it would just zap his autism away," the Doctor replied, without looking at her.

"Yeah, well… near enough, it sounds like."

Martha laid out three mugs, and placed a bag in each one. "Look, Stephanie, your self-sacrifice is admirable, and frankly, if I were in your shoes, I'd probably be inclined to do the same thing, if it meant helping out Curtis. But the Doctor was right before: it only solves one small facet of Curtis' greater problem. It treats a symptom, not the disease."

"Very well said, Dr. Jones," the Doctor commented.

"Well, where is Daniel now?"

"He went back to London. To find you. Because he thinks tonight's the night."

"Ugh," Stephanie said.

"Okay, look," Martha said, bringing milk from the fridge to the counter, speaking with a bit of finality. "The water is boiling, the teabags are ready to go, and here's milk. You know what to do from here. The Doctor and I are…"

"You two are leaving?" Tim said from the doorway.

"Yeah, 'fraid so," the Doctor said.

"You're not going to…"

"Try and perfect the one thing that has any sort of shot at solving our problem with no murder nor rape? Yes, we are," the Doctor told him. "I'm sorry, Tim, but if you've got a better idea, we're all ears."

"I…" Stephanie began.

"Stop it, Stephanie," the Time Lord said, anticipating what she was about to say. "You don't want to be with that guy, and your solution is no different than if Curtis had just given him the drawing days ago. Just consider your option a non-option, all right?"

Tim looked at Stephanie with sad, downturned eyes. "I agree, Steph. Thanks anyway."

"That's a change of tune," the Doctor commented.

"No it's not!"

"It is! Before, you were all about keeping Curtis intact, at all costs."

"But I still wasn't all about having Stephanie turn herself over!"

"Excuse me..." Stephanie interjected.

"The point is, I just talked with Curtis," Tim sighed, leaning his bum against the kitchen table. "I'm convinced. He's got to be the master of his own weirdness, and honestly, anything has got to be better than Stephanie having to submit to that arsehole, whether it's because of reality manipulation, or because she offers herself."

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

He nodded. "I guess I wasn't terribly vocal about it before… I wasn't in favour of it, but I guess I didn't fully understand the implications until I met Edge. If met is what you can call it."

Stephanie tutted and pouted a bit, crossing her arms, and walking in a tight circle.

"Okay, look, we have to go," the Doctor said.

"One thing, Doctor," Tim interrupted. "I was able to talk to him a little bit, but he's so mentally taxed…"

The Doctor peeked around the doorjamb at Curtis, who was sitting still as a statue on the sofa. "Looks like he's gone catatonic."

"Near enough. I don't know if you'll be able to get him into the TARDIS right now without some pretty elaborate gymnastics. So to speak. And given what he's been through tonight…"

The Doctor nodded, not surprised to hear this. "Well, given our current time crunch, what we've got in mind is a lot less refined than what we were initially planning, I hate to say. So, I'm thinking… well, a personal item of Curtis' might do it. Or maybe some of his drawings? Maybe both. Tim, would he let us take them?"

"Right now, he may not notice if you set off a bomb in that room, as long as you didn't try to move him," Tim said. "I'd say, go take whatever you need. Don't even ask him. Just make sure it gets returned, please."

"I'll be right back," Martha said, disappearing down the hall.

The Doctor went into the parlour and tried speaking to Curtis, but the man pulled his red hood up over his head and dipped his chin into his chest. He was sitting with the unfinished drawing in his lap, staring at it.

The Doctor accepted this, though wondered what was going through his mind. He went and stood against the wall between the kitchen and parlour.

Behind him, Tim brought two mugs to the table and sat down. Stephanie sat down with him.

"Shouldn't we bring one to Curtis?" she asked.

"He won't even notice it," Tim said. "Let's just wait for him to tell us he's thirsty, or something."

"If you say so," she said, then sipped her tea.

The Doctor now realised he was hearing their conversation, and they may not fully realise it. But it was the only place he could stand without disturbing them, or Curtis. So he stayed put, and waited for Martha.

"So, what will you do when this is all over?" he asked.

"Try to get on with my life," she said. "Avoid the Edge family."

"In London?"

"I guess so."

"Do you think any of the others would try to come after you?" Tim wondered.

"I dunno. He's never given any indication that any other family members even know about me. He only ever talks about his friends. Mostly about what they can do for him."

"Ah yes, his friend in the registry office at the university," Tim remembered. "Is that even true?"

"I actually have no idea," she said. "The fact that he would say it at all says a lot, though, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. But…"

There was a longish silence, before Stephanie said, "But what?"

"Well, I can't say I blame him," Tim said, sheepishly. "And if he weren't such a prat, I would almost feel sorry for him."

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong. He's an entitled little wanker who thinks he can just control people with money. And if he wants to get the girl, he's been going about it all wrong. But you know, I don't think he knows any other way."

"That's probably true."

"And, well… if you're the one he wants, then he's got good taste. I can see why he's so frustrated about…"

"Thanks. I think."

"I'm doing this all wrong."

"No, you're not," Stephanie chuckled. "I know what you mean. So, definitely thanks."

After another long pause, during which the Doctor wondered now long it could take to find a few drawings in a small bedroom, Stephanie asked another question.

"So… no girlfriend, then?"

"No," Tim sighed.

"Boyfriend?"

"No, not that either. But it's been so long, I'm starting to wonder if I wouldn't prefer that. And well, blimey, in all of the commotion, I guess it never occurred to me to wonder whether you actually have a boyfriend."

"I don't," she said. "But thanks for asking. Daniel never did. He just ploughed in."

"You didn't think to tell him you were engaged or something?"

"I don't believe in doing that," she said. "I think men should back off because I ask them to. Not because they're encroaching on some other bloke's territory."

"Ah. You're absolutely right. Sorry."

"Works in theory, but…"

"Yeah, some guys are idiots," Tim conceded. "But others are not! Case in point, Edge also never asked what your specialisation is at uni. So I will be a non-idiot and ask you myself."

"It's finance."

"Oh right," Tim said. "You met him at a financier's convention."

"Yep," she said. "You're a very good listener."

"Only when I want to be," he chuckled.

"You remembered about Daniel's friend in the registry office," she said.

"Well, again, when I'm motivated, I do remember details. And you motivate me to remember."

"I do?" Stephanie said, realising full well what Tim meant. And the Doctor smiled to himself.

"Yes," Tim told her. "I also remember that he talked to you about not family, but friends, which you said two minutes ago. But! One of his friends is a member of the Devenish family, and he invited you to a party at their mansion, as way of wooing you. And you said that much earlier in the evening."

"That's right," she said.

And then there was another heavy silence.

"Stephanie? Whoa, Steph? Are you okay?" Tim asked.

The Doctor resisted the urge to look back round the corner.

"I'm fine," she said. "I have to go back to London."

"What? Why? Did I offend you?"

"No, you didn't offend me," she said, and the Doctor heard her chair scrape across the kitchen floor as she stood up. It was followed by Tim's chair. "I just…"

"It's five in the morning!" Tim protested. "And it's a three-hour drive!"

"I know," Stephanie said. Then the Doctor turned his head and saw her grab for a pad of paper and pen on a counter he could now see. She wrote something down, and said, "There's my number. Phone me if you need to. Or want to. In fact, please do, because I might have some stuff to tell you."

She strode through the parlour toward the front door.

"Stephanie," the Doctor said, moving forward instinctively, to stop her. "London is the last place you want to be right now. He'll be there looking for you. He's going to think…"

"I know what he thinks," she insisted.

"And what will he do if he finds you, but doesn't get his way?"

"I have to take that risk, Doctor," she said, grabbing her keys off the coffee table and again moving for the door. "Besides, I'm not going home – he won't find me. I'm going to someone who can help me."

And with that, she was out the door.

Martha appeared in the parlour then, with a piece of red clothing in-hand, as well as a sketchbook.

"Where's she going?" she asked, with a confused, but horrified, look on her face.

"Back to London," the Doctor said.

"Why?"

"She didn't say."

"But it's five in the morning!"

"I know."

"And a three-hour drive!"

"I know."

"Edge will come looking for her there!"

"I know! Martha, do you really think none of us, including Stephanie, thought of that?"

"Well why didn't you stop her?"

"How?"

Martha shoved the piece of clothing and the sketchbook into the Doctor's hands, and ran for the door. She tore it open and leaned over the railing just outside. She didn't dare call out the girl's name for fear that Edge's men were still about.

She saw no-one. She kicked the bars and turned back round into the flat.

"Let's go, Doctor," she sighed. "Hopefully, we can get this thing done before he finds her, or something else horrible happens."

"Okay," he said, unfurling the piece of clothing. It turned out to be a red hoodie. "What, another one?"

"Yeah, Curtis owns three," Tim said.

"Well, that's handy. I've never seen him without one. I reckon if any object will be personal enough, this will. Apart from the drawings, of course."

"I had quite a time finding them," Martha said, glancing at Curtis. "He's not keeping them in a drawer anymore, like Tim said."

"He's not?" Tim asked.

"Nope."

And then, as if on-cue, they all turned their attention toward Curtis. All of a sudden, his eyes shifted up to Martha's. She was taken aback.

Then they shifted to the Doctor's. He was also taken aback.

Then, Curtis began to look back and forth at the two of them.

And just as suddenly, he pulled a pencil from his pocket, leaned forward, placing the unfinished drawing on the coffee table, and began to work on it.

"Curtis…" Tim said, lurching forward.

"Don't worry," Curtis said, absently.

"Curtis, mate…"

"Don't worry," Curtis repeated. "Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry…"

"Martha, we'd better go," the Doctor said.

Once they reached the TARDIS, the re-confirmed what they'd learned on the roof. Curtis had promised to have the drawing finished by noon today, and Daniel Edge believed that tonight, a Thursday, would be "the night" with Stephanie.

"So, one might say we've got until noon," Martha said. "But it'll be much later before Edge finally realises it's not happening."

"Right. So, it's currently five a.m. We've probably got about nineteen hours. Just to be safe, let's call it sixteen."

"Okay. Seven hours until Curtis' deadline, and additional nine before the spit hits the fan. Plus three hours before he can get back to Leeds… unless his henchmen are still here, and he's not planning on getting his hands dirty."

"Or unless he's got a chopper."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. So, sixteen hours, conservatively. Got it. Is that enough time?"

"To devise a thing that will zap Curtis' connection with the Ifasma, and probably with everyone who has ever known about his power, with the least amount of finesse I'm comfortable with? Yeah. It is," he said, examining the red hoodie that he'd thrown on the console upon entering. Then, with a big sigh, he asked, "Martha, do you think Stephanie went back to London to offer herself up?"

"I don't know. My gut tells me no, based on the fact that even Tim now definitely wants her to stand down, but I could be wrong. There's a chance," she sighed back. "She's going to do what she's going to do, Doctor. She's a grown woman, and a nice person. She got drawn into a ridiculous situation – an impossible situation – and if she does offer herself up, then she's doing, well, honestly, what I would do, in her shoes."

"But, you wouldn't do it, unless there were absolutely no other alternatives, would you?"

"No, but she may not understand the alternatives."

"Okay. Let's make it so she doesn't have to make that choice," he said, moving more aggressively than usual toward the console. He typed a command or two into the TARDIS' keyboard with flourish.

Martha watched him with worried eyes for a few moments, then asked, "So, are we going to zap the whole of Great Britain with this thing, since people in at least two cities, north and south, know about Curtis' power?"

He pulled his hand down over his face. "I don't know. Maybe. No. But… I don't know."

"If so, would we do it as a pre-emptive strike?"

He thought about this. "No. As barmy as it sounds, I think we should wait until the very last minute. Until we know what Curtis has done. Until we know what Stephanie has done, or has not done. Until we know for sure that Daniel Edge is about to blow."

"Okay," she sighed. "I think you're right. But I find that scenario terrifying."

The Doctor gave Martha a job – it had to do with calibrating, and responding to adjustments that he made. The two of them worked on it for about a half-hour, and then the Doctor said, "Okay, let's upload the energy signature from Curtis, and see what happens."

They waited.

While they waited, he said, "Do you really think that Stephanie would change her mind about giving herself over to Daniel Edge, just because Tim doesn't want her to?"

"No, not because Tim doesn't want her to," Martha answered. "But more because the opinion that it's a crazy thing to do has now become one hundred per-cent unanimous. When it was just you and me, and Tim was waffling, it was one thing. But now, everyone thinks it's a very bad idea."

"Oh. I see."

He sounded crestfallen, and very, very few of the Doctor's emotional nuances ever went lost on her. "Why? Why the tone?"

"What tone?"

"You sound disappointed. I know you weren't hoping that she'd do one man's bidding, if not the other's."

"No, it's nothing to do with that," he smirked. "Just… would have been nice to think that Stephanie fancies him enough to… you know what? Whatever I say is going to sound sexist, so… let's just say, I'm hoping she fancies him, that's all."

"Why?"

"I heard them talking," he said. "I think he likes her. He told her he didn't blame Daniel Edge for being smitten with her, even if he was going about it all wrong."

"Well, that's nice," Martha commented, somewhat absently. Frankly, she wasn't surprised.

Before she could think too hard about it, the upload was complete. They then spent another ninety minutes on another calibration task.

The actual connection between Curtis and the Ifasma was based on a frequency, but was, basically, almost a tangible thing. They spent the next hour or so testing Curtis' drawing pad, to try and find out whether it could be used to nail down, and manipulate, that frequency.

They found that it could.

And so they did. Next, they input all of that information into a device within the TARDIS' inner-workings that would detonate a magnetic pulse from the Axiothe Field, interrupting the frequency between Curtis and the Ifasma, Curtis and his drawings, and Curtis and everyone who had found out about his talent. It wasn't dangerous, but it was dodgy as a solution, and unrefined. But without Curtis, and another few days to plan, it was all they had.

It took about three hours to complete, from beginning to end.

"Stephanie should just about now be getting to London," the Doctor commented, stepping back from the console. "Wonder what she's got up her sleeve."

"I wish I knew."

"I wonder if she's got back in touch with Tim yet."

She frowned. "For someone who doesn't ordinarily notice the nuances of human interaction, you're championing Stephanie and Tim…. Oh. Oh God."

"What?"

"You're hoping his affections will shift away from me, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

Martha, who was holding a wrench in her hand, threw the tool to the floor, and it made a loud, satisfying clang. "Ugh, really, Doctor, not this again!"

Uh-oh... the "ship" has come across a small storm. Or has it? :-)

As always, I'll love you forever if you leave a review! Thank you for reading!