“WEEPING ANGEL!” they said, practically together.
“Jack, don’t take your eyes off that statue for a second,” said the Detective, feeling focused and alert for once in his life.
Jack very nearly rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much. I’ve totally never heard of a Weeping Angel before. Just shouted that because I felt like it.” Sighing, he continued, “Any ideas?”
The Detective bit his lip, thinking. Angels could move when you were looking at them. . . That which holds the image of an angel. . .
He did have an idea.
“Jack, I’ve got a plan.”
“Walk out of this room and leave me here.”
“Less fantastic. You do realize these things don’t just grab one victim and leave, right? And since when are you the type for the big, heroic sacrifice?”
“I’ve got a plan, Jack, and very little time to explain it. Now, go ahead and blink. I need your eyes in the best possible condition for this. Ready?”
“Now,” said Jack. The Detective stared at the angel. The light was beginning to hurt his eyes, and he was feeling the sting of holding them open.
“Good. Now you?”
“I just nodded,” the Detective said. “Ready? I’m going to blink. . . Now!”
He screwed his eyes shut, and felt the moisture return to them.
"Alright," the Detective said. "Now, I'm going to walk over to you, and you're going to hand me that flashlight without moving the beam from the statue. Then, without looking away from the Angel at any point, you are then going to walk out of this room, and leave me here."
Jack scoffed. "You can forget that right now."
"Oh, come on, Jack- I've got a plan. Don't have time to explain it now, though. Rest assured, you hit the nail on the head when you said I'm not one for heroic sacrifices. One more blink before we start. You first. Ready?"
They blinked, and the Detective edged toward the flashlight. As he reached out, the Detective prized the flashlight from his hands. Suddenly, the beam wavered, as the Detective chuckled. “We’re literally passing the torch!” he said. Jack just steadied the beam, sighing.
“Now leave,” he told Jack, “and don’t take your eyes off it for one moment.”
“I still don’t understand-”
“No, I didn’t expect you to. Trust me when I say that I have a plan- now get out!” the Detective snarled.
Jack edged his way back toward the door, sparing the Detective a final, concerned glance before shutting it.
“Now, angel- let’s get down to business, shall we? You can’t move when you’re being seen, can you? Well, since you can’t speak, let’s prove that, shall we?”
The Detective switched off the flashlight.
A half second later, he switched it back on again, and the angel stood before him. The Detective took a worried half-step back. Bit closer than he’d been expecting.
“Right, no worries there, then. Now, second fact is, that which holds the image of an angel becomes itself an angel. But everyone knows that,” he said, devilish grin breaking onto his face. He practically lived for these moments. “So the really clever bit is that angels count as someone looking at you. And you may not be an Angel, given that you just showed up at random. Maybe you’re a hallucination, maybe something I don’t even know about yet, but I reckon,” he said, straining not to blink but loving every second of his moment in the spotlight, “You still have to play by the rules.”
The Detective bent, placing the flashlight on the floor, and illuminating the angel, light bouncing off the cabinet behind the Time Lord.
“Oh, and, guess what?” he said, stepping out of the way of the cabinet and clapping a hand on the statue, staring over its shoulder at the face of the angel’s reflection in the medicine cabinet.
“‘That which holds the image,’ remember? So reflections still count.”