Harriet Jones still has some followers. Above all, there are people who trust her, more than they trust the current government, for all matters related to alien invasions.
That's why she finds herself at this painter's workshop. Artists can see things no one else can perceive, say a few Torchwood reports. Things that can exist, or not.
A nervous young woman comes to her. "It watches us. Sometimes it goes away, but it comes back afterwards. It's alive, I'm sure of it," she insists.
She waves at an empty ceiling; maybe there is something, a halo, an unnatural quality of light, that only a painter could notice.
But Harriet has been told where to look.
She has no idea of the reply a being of light could give, but she has to try and communicate. "Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister. Who are you? What do you want?" She feels the same at each of these encounters, frightened of the unknown, but unwaveringly proud that she's doing her duty.
It's so elusive...but just for a moment she may have seen in this ring of pale light the shape of a young, blonde girl. She can't remember now her clothes, or her face, even less her eyes. So why does she feel like she saw so many things in them? Curiosity, hope, innocence... It's impossible to show with just one look the joy of meeting someone, the sadness of being unable to communicate...yet these feelings are somehow reflected in Harriet's heart, making it sink.
She turns back, looks at those who came with her. Did they perceive her?
"This matter can be dropped," she hears herself saying. "It's indeed an alien being, but it does not involve any threat." Of course, it's absurd. There can't be certainty about this. Except the one she feels in herself: attacking or rejecting a being who looked at her like that would break her heart.
"Call me in if there are any new developments, though," she adds. She wants to reassure herself so, to convince herself it's a rational choice. Or maybe, she doesn't really wants to drop the case yet.
One last time, Harriet smiles at the flickering light-being, but she doesn't discern anything new.
A few months later, she receives a heavy letter from the workshop; she fears the worst when she opens it. But there's only a brief comment, to thank her for her advice. The creature, whatever it may be, didn't harm anyone, and it no longer comes back.
In the envelope, there is also a painting: only a few twinklings of light on an unremarkable ceiling.
But artists must know how to capture things not anyone can see. Harriet Jones keeps the painting hanging on her wall, at the place where her eyes fall when they seek for light.
Requests : John Hart (from Torchwood)/John Hart (from "The Sea Devils"), Omega/Hedin (from "Arc of Infinity"), Six/Rani/Ainley!Master
Harriet Jones/Astrid Peth
That's why she finds herself at this painter's workshop. Artists can see things no one else can perceive, say a few Torchwood reports. Things that can exist, or not.
A nervous young woman comes to her. "It watches us. Sometimes it goes away, but it comes back afterwards. It's alive, I'm sure of it," she insists.
She waves at an empty ceiling; maybe there is something, a halo, an unnatural quality of light, that only a painter could notice.
But Harriet has been told where to look.
She has no idea of the reply a being of light could give, but she has to try and communicate. "Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister. Who are you? What do you want?" She feels the same at each of these encounters, frightened of the unknown, but unwaveringly proud that she's doing her duty.
It's so elusive...but just for a moment she may have seen in this ring of pale light the shape of a young, blonde girl. She can't remember now her clothes, or her face, even less her eyes. So why does she feel like she saw so many things in them? Curiosity, hope, innocence... It's impossible to show with just one look the joy of meeting someone, the sadness of being unable to communicate...yet these feelings are somehow reflected in Harriet's heart, making it sink.
She turns back, looks at those who came with her. Did they perceive
her?
"This matter can be dropped," she hears herself saying. "It's indeed an alien being, but it does not involve any threat." Of course, it's absurd. There can't be certainty about this. Except the one she feels in herself: attacking or rejecting a being who looked at her like that would break her heart.
"Call me in if there are any new developments, though," she adds. She wants to reassure herself so, to convince herself it's a rational choice. Or maybe, she doesn't really wants to drop the case yet.
One last time, Harriet smiles at the flickering light-being, but she doesn't discern anything new.
A few months later, she receives a heavy letter from the workshop; she fears the worst when she opens it. But there's only a brief comment, to thank her for her advice. The creature, whatever it may be, didn't harm anyone, and it no longer comes back.
In the envelope, there is also a painting: only a few twinklings of light on an unremarkable ceiling.
But artists must know how to capture things not anyone can see. Harriet Jones keeps the painting hanging on her wall, at the place where her eyes fall when they seek for light.
Requests : John Hart (from Torchwood)/John Hart (from "The Sea Devils"), Omega/Hedin (from "Arc of Infinity"), Six/Rani/Ainley!Master