d8rkmessngr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
d8rkmessngr) wrote2009-01-04 05:44 pm
d8rkmessngr) wrote2009-01-04 05:44 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 40/40 Act 6/11)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Note that "the Year That Never Was" was suggested that it wasn't fun. I took it as a challenge to somehow still find a way to instill comfort in it. If it didn't work, I'm sorry. I suck. LOL.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, VIOLENCE, torture (mostly implied, all a matter of reader interpretation), sappy maudlin
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events/dialogue here that was referenced in DW's "Last of the Time Lords"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38, Ch 39, Ch 40 1/11, Ch 40 2/11, Ch 40 3/11, Ch 40 4/11, Ch 40 5/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act VI: "I'm a Time Lord. I have that right."
Valiant
The Doctor looked pathetic all shriveled and small in his cage, just large enough for him to curl up on his side to sleep. The rusty cage hung above the banister that led to the upper deck of the bridge.
Harry was sick and tired of all the people milling about, the constant reports of satellites drifting, work progress and weather updates. He dismissed them all from the bridge and as a joke, threw a rag over the cage like he would a songbird.
Harry patted Lucy’s arm tucked into the crook of his left elbow. He walked as if he was running and he shot her an impatient frown every time Lucy tripped in the hall. It was hard to see. Her left eye still burned vaguely from where Harry had struck her for her betrayal. He forgave her afterwards though and stayed with her through the night, murmuring in the dark how it would soon all be better.
The red gown Harry said suited her was too long and Lucy kept stepping on her own hem. But Harry wanted her to dress up nice for their meal. Dinner theater, Harry announced and they had dined as they watched their Toclafane gleefully chase seagulls into the Valiant's engines.
Lucy said nothing as Harry steered her towards the bridge. She felt the tremors going up and down his arm. It echoed hers although the chills that plagued her, the extra sharp clarity that lingered after every feed had faded to memory by now.
Harry stayed with her after his broadcast, but it was an empty victory as she watched her husband, her Master, pace their chambers until she fell asleep. Because she woke up with him on their bed besides her, Lucy said nothing and just pressed her face to his back until Harry roused and drowsily shooed her off.
"Tomorrow, they launch," Harry announced as he slapped the doors to the bridge open. He strode into the bridge with Lucy in tow.
"We're opening up a rift in the Braccatolian space." Harry leaned closer to the cage. The dark rag was off the cage and on the floor next to his food dish. "They won't see us coming."
Lucy imagined rockets like glittering birds sailing across the rift. Her arms pimpled with an odd cold/hot rush as she imagined the storm changing the face of her universe. It was like standing above a shattered canister of blue, timeless energy as it wafted up into her bones. Oh, the energy of the universe, the energy of being right. Lucy swayed when Harry let go of her arm.
"Kinda scary." Harry pretended to shiver as he stalked closer to the Doctor. He took great glee as he spoke, smiling as if he knew a secret he wanted so desperately to share.
Lucy watched the diminutive Doctor hobble with great difficulty towards the bars and he curled dark, age spotted fingers around his prison.
"Then stop," the Doctor said in a voice wispier than before. She frowned at herself. Her belly stirred at how weak the Doctor sounded.
"Once the empire is established and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then… " Lucy watched her Master's eyes dull and the slick smile he bestowed the Doctor faltered, "it stops."
Lucy's throat worked when the Doctor glanced over to her over Harry's bowed head.
It will never stop.
Lucy wasn't sure if the voice in her head was the Doctor's or her own. Lucy stiffened and glowered at the diminished Time Lord. She wouldn't be fooled into betraying Harry again.
"The drumming," Harry murmured, his eyes staring past the Doctor. Lucy longed to reach out to the figure in black. Harry seemed to be farther and farther away with every passing minute.
Harry's face twisted, contorted; he looked nothing like the man who had rescued her far away in the TARDIS from her monotonous, senseless life.
"The never-ending drumbeat." Harry staggered back to the large table. Harry shrugged Lucy's tentative hand away. He sat down at the edge of the table.
"Ever since I was a child." His fingers hammered lightly on the wood. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Lucy's hands spasmed against her sides as she watched Harry's right hand stretched by his side. Tapping. Always tapping.
"I looked into the vortex." Harry inhaled and it almost came out broken. "That's when it chose me."
Fingers on the table grew louder.
"The drumming, the call to war."
Lucy tried to copy the beat but after a few repetitions, her fingers lost track.
Harry's feet were starting to mimic his fingers' One-two-three-four.
"Can't you hear it?" Harry breathed, his eyes bright with an almost wide-eyed innocence as he raised his gaze, "Listen…
Lucy tilted her head towards the table, her fingers twitching but failing to imitate perfectly.
"It's there now." Fingers began to sound like short barks of gunfire, mocking her failure. "Right now."
Lucy bit her lower lip as her fingers missed a beat of the tempo. She wanted to scream. Instead, she listened. Her eyes glazed over and she tried to let it consume her but it always stayed out of reach just along the edge of her consciousness.
"Tell me you can hear it, Doctor."
I hear it, Lucy wanted to weep to her Master. I promise, I do. I hear it.
"Tell me." It almost sounded like a plea.
The Doctor with his bald head and large eyes studied Harry before he said very carefully, "It's only you."
Harry stared at the Doctor. His hand came up to the cage.
"Not just me," her Master whispered.
"He can't hear it anymore," the Doctor replied. His voice no longer held the deep tenor that echoed in the bridge before.
"But he heard it once."
Lucy averted her gaze at the strained voice.
"He heard it only because you made him hear it." The cage swayed as the Doctor gripped the bars. "It means nothing."
The Master stroked a hand on the cage.
"You look pathetic, old friend. How thin you must be feeling right now. A fragile thread ready to snap." Harry's mouth curved. "All those years. They can go away easily if—"
"No."
Lucy jumped when Harry roared wordlessly and shook the cage. She lost sight of the Doctor for a moment as he fell. Harry started and yanked his arms back.
"See what you've made me do?" Harry said with an unsteady voice. He tugged his jacket straight. His hands shook when he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. Harry took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "Why must you be so obstinate?"
Lucy held her breath until the Doctor got up again. Trembling fingers caught the bars and with effort, the Doctor pulled himself up to stand.
"I've made you do nothing," the Doctor returned breathlessly. "Your own desperation is unraveling your mind."
"Desperation?" Harry stuck his face nose to nose with the Time Lord. "I'm not desperate. You were. Using my poor, impressionable Lucy."
The Doctor spared her a glance that made her bristle. She wanted to knock the cage off its perch, wipe that pitying look off his face.
"It seems to be a habit of yours," Harry decided. He straightened and rejoined Lucy by the table. He surprised Lucy by dropping an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.
"Using them." Lucy shivered at Harry's even words. "You do that a lot, don't you? Using your Companions until they're all spent, husked shells of their humanity."
"It was never my intention."
Lucy sighed as she rested her head on Harry's shoulder and felt a kiss on her temple. She smiled to herself.
"No," Harry agreed, "perhaps not, but it doesn't change the fact that you do; you use them, discard them, abandon them—"
"I'd never—"
"You did!" Harry stepped away from Lucy. He stood ramrod straight in front of the Doctor.
"Didn't you ever wonder why our captain was so willing to accept me? Why it was inconceivable for him to think that I might not be…you?"
Lucy smirked when the Doctor fell silent.
"And that is why he's my Companion."
Lucy's smile faded.
"You forfeited that right on a space station far into the future."
"I never meant—"
"But you did!" The Master spread his arms wide. "You did, Doctor, and as justified as you may feel or how hard you try to convince yourself of the contrary, you did. Left our Jack in a hollow metal grave simply because you feared the temptation of the vortex. Wrong, you called him. Wrong." Harry tapped a finger to his lower lip.
The Doctor studied Harry carefully, like an artifact. Wizened, shriveled up to something non-threatening, the Doctor showed no fear when Harry approached closer.
"Nothing to say now, Doctor?" her Master taunted the Time Lord. Lucy bit back a snicker.
The Doctor met Harry's gaze.
"You called him Jack."
Lucy's chuckle died in her throat.
Harry's face was immovable. "So?" he returned with a deliberately casual tone.
"You never called him Jack before."
Something flitted across Harry's expression and he straightened abruptly.
"You are mistaken, old friend." Harry sat on the table again next to Lucy, his arm stiff around her waist.
"I think not."
"What?" Harry's laugh was strange. "Nothing better to do than obsess over my lexis now?"
"You never took an interest in calling him by nam—"
Harry thrust his face at the cage. Lucy cringed but the Doctor held his ground.
"I shall call him whatever I like," Harry snarled. He slapped the cage lightly before he pivoted around to rejoin Lucy.
The Doctor tottered before he righted himself by holding the bars tight.
"But why call him Jack now? He hasn't called you Doctor, has he?"
There was no inflection in the Doctor's voice but there was something about it, that knowing tone that asked Harry yet never expected an answer because the Doctor already knew. Lucy wanted to smack the cage. She wanted to smack it hard. She wanted to smack the guards she knew were listening in outside, smack the creature strung up in the engine rooms who dared deny Harry, captured his attention and…and…
Lucy bunched her left hand into a fist and let the sharp bite of blood her nails drew bring her back to what she needed to focus on. Mustn't wander, Lucy told herself. Harry would be cross.
"Harry," Lucy murmured but she choked at whatever she was going to say when Harry's arm tightened around her.
Behind them, the door opened and Lucy heard the hum of one of their children floating over to them.
"Tomorrow, the war. Tomorrow we rise. Never to fall."
Lucy shared a smile with her Harry. Tomorrow. Yes, it will be better tomorrow just like Harry promised.
"You see?" Harry swept his free arm towards the Toclafane with a broad arc. "I'm doing it for them! You should be grateful! After all, you love them. So very, very much."
The Doctor merely stared at the globe, his eyes dull as if in grief.
Harry chuckled as he hugged Lucy closer. "I took Lucy to Utopia, you know. A Time Lord and his human Companion."
Lucy's throat worked. Not Companion. His wife, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. She merely rested her body against him, careful not to lean all her weight on him.
"I took her to see the stars. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
Lucy whimpered to herself. She didn't want to remember the endless fall into despair. It was cold. It was a forever she couldn't bear to contemplate.
Harry's fingers dug into her side. Lucy flinched.
"Tell him, sweetheart," Harry hissed into her ear.
"Trillions of years into the future," Lucy found herself saying, "to the end of the universe." Oh, horrible, horrible end.
Harry kissed her cheek. "Go on," he encouraged. "Tell him what you saw."
Lucy drifted back to when she was curled on the floor of the TARDIS, when Harry took her into the safe confines of his mind. She had been screaming for hours until Harry saved her and peeled layers of Utopia away from her mind, until their intensity dimmed into fleeting memory.
"Dying," Lucy said dreamily. Harry's voice that day had pulled her out of the endless wailing and weeping. "Everything dying. The whole of creation was falling apart." Lucy blinked and Harry brushed his lips across her cheek, a God's promise. "And I thought…there's no point. No point to anything. Not ever."
"And it's all your fault," Harry concluded harshly.
Yes. It was the Doctor's fault. Lucy slipped one arm around Harry's back and dropped her head onto a strong shoulder. Spinning, spinning. She could feel herself spinning as she fell and there was a hunger to be one with the universe again, to know all the answers. In that moment, she instantly understood Harry's hunger for filthy Jack Harkness and his vortex. Her teeth ached as if they wanted to suck the marrow out of the beast's bones and drain him of a power he wasn't worthy of. Lucy licked her teeth and swallowed hard.
"All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons. It all turned inwards. They cannibalized themselves."
"We made ourselves so pretty," the Toclafane sang.
There were a few canisters left. Harry refused to leech the vortex from them. Maybe…maybe she could…
"Regressing into children." Harry's laugh was like knives pricking her ears. "Human race. Greatest monster of them all. But it didn't work. The universe was collapsing around them."
Lucy pressed her face into Harry's shoulder. Their eyes. Their eyes had watered when they reached Utopia and the truth of humanity's fate. They had ripped their eyes out first and wired their sight to a hive of machines that only fed them numbers and light so they wouldn't despair.
"My masterpiece, Doctor." Harry petted Lucy's hair when she shivered. "A living TARDIS, strong enough to hold the paradox in place, allowing the past and the future to collide in infinite majesty."
"But you're changing history," the Doctor protested in his reed-thin voice. His admonishment sounded ridiculous in his diminished body. "Not just Earth, the entire universe."
No, no, Lucy wanted to correct the defeated Time Lord. Not changing. Fixing.
"I'm a Time Lord. I have that right."
Lucy nodded to herself and interlaced her fingers with the hand stroking her. Harry drew up her hand to his lips and kissed their clasped hands.
"My Master," Lucy whispered and Harry kissed her knuckles again.
"But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?" the Doctor asked.
"We've come backwards in time to build a brand new empire lasting a hundred trillion years." The Toclafane bobbed merrily in the air around them.
"With me as their master and my Lucy as their queen. Time Lord and humans combined." Harry chuckled. "Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?"
The Doctor stared up at him with wide eyes, like a frightened child finally seeing the monster in the closet.
"Not like this," the Doctor whispered. "No. Never this way."
Harry sneered. "Good. I hate to think my idea wasn't original."
"You're fixing us, Harry," Lucy added. She found she could smirk at the Doctor now without flinching when he stared back.
Harry's chest rumbled underneath her. He drew her up and spun her around in a twirl from a waltz. Her reward was the brilliant smile he gave her.
"Yes. Yes, I am." Harry nodded towards her as he leveled his eyes on the cage.
"Where you have spent them, Doctor, I will have saved them. I think we misnamed ourselves… Doctor."
The Toclafane giggled madly above the cage. It kept muttering "Doctor" to itself in a mocking chant.
"Night-night," Harry offered in a light, almost exuberant voice. He looped an arm around Lucy again. Her skin tingled where he stroked the red silk. She followed her Master out the door, the Doctor's eyes on her as they exited. Lucy never looked back. When the doors shut though, she couldn't help but shiver as the wood thumped closed like the lid of a coffin.
Nuclear Plant Seven
Martha covered her mouth with her hand. She could hear Davidson's harsh breathing behind her. Milligan was barely breathing at all as he stood with his pistol still pointing at the remains of the dissected Toclafane.
"Christ," Davidson choked out. "Are you telling me those t-things are us?"
"Not us." Docherty stared at the remains. She didn't wipe the blood splatter from her face. For some reason, Martha was glad the blood wasn't red. It was green, almost oily looking, like machinery lubricant.
Martha gulped and looked away. "Not us," she agreed with Docherty, "from the future."
"Oh yes, that makes a world of difference, thank you," Davidson snapped. "Christmas dinner should be interesting from now on."
Milligan finally lowered his gun. "If they're from the future," Milligan spoke up in a shaky voice, "does that mean I killed one of our descendants?”
"Who cares?" Davidson exclaimed.
Martha smiled tightly when Milligan breathed out sharply through his teeth.
"Paradox machine," Martha said.
"What?" Milligan asked, appearing as though he wasn't sure if he was disgusted with the remains or his gun or both.
"They may be from the future, but they're existing here. That way when they kill us, one of their possible ancestors, they won't get wiped out."
"Well, convenient if someone wants to commit genocide," Davidson muttered to himself.
"I think it's time we had the truth, Miss Jones." Docherty recovered enough to wipe her face clean and push the globe away from her. "The legend says you've traveled the world to find a way of killing the Master. Tell us, is it true?"
Martha could feel the others staring. She took a deep breath. "Just before I escaped, the Doctor told me…" She stared at Docherty, who was watching her with fascination. Martha glanced over at the other two.
"The Doctor gave me a plan," Martha said finally. It was the closest to the truth she could allow. The words ran in her head as she recited her script. "The Doctor and the Master, they've been coming to Earth for years. And they've been watched."
Martha prayed her hands didn't tremble too much when she pulled a small handle-less attaché case from her pack. Don't shake it, Martha. Don't stir the chemicals. Careful, girl.
"There's UNIT and Torchwood, all studying Time Lords in secret. And they made this." Martha took great care in opening the case. The three colored tubes from the pharmacy in Texas sloshed gently in their slots. The three the Doctor somehow found a way to instruct Torchwood to adjust, to fiddle with into not the poison Owen first telegraphed to her, but into something she now couldn't understand. Damn the Doctor and all his secrets.
"The ultimate defense," Martha whispered before she closed the case again. Weapon or not now, she loathed exposing it to too many people.
Milligan had leaned over her shoulder to look at it. He grunted, unimpressed.
"All you need to do is get close. I can shoot the Master dead with this." Milligan brandished his gun in the air.
"Well, don't shoot it now, he isn't here," Davidson griped as he edged back from Milligan.
Docherty gave Milligan a foul look. "Actually, you can put that down now, thank you very much."
Martha bit back a smile. Milligan looked like a boy waving his toy pistol. The weapon looked ill fitted in his grasp. "Point is," Martha cut in before Davidson could confiscate it from Milligan, "it's not so easy to kill a Time Lord. They can regenerate; literally bring themselves back to life."
There was a twisted look that crossed Docherty's face, as if hope had died. "Ah, the Master's immortal," Docherty mumbled. Her hands twitched as she looked away to the side. "Wonderful."
Even if it was a lie, Martha forced herself to smile encouragingly. She reopened the case again. "Except for this." Martha picked up the gun by the grip. The metal felt cool and too light in her hand.
"Four chemicals," Martha counted as she indicated the three holes and the other that was welded shut, "slotted into the gun, inject him…kills a Time Lord permanently."
Milligan's brow knitted together. "Four chemicals? You've only got three," he pointed out.
Martha made sure Docherty was watching her as she nodded. "Still need the last one ‘cause the components of this gun were kept safe, scattered across the world." Martha hefted the gun in her hand. It still felt light. Would it be too light to be believed genuine? Martha curled her hand around the handle. "I found them. San Diego, Beijing, Budapest and London." Lies, all lies. It was unfair how good she was getting at this.
The rejuvenated eager faces on Davidson and Milligan nearly made Martha cringe.
"Then where is it?" Milligan demanded.
It was easier to look at Docherty's thoughtful face when Martha responded. "There's an old UNIT base, north London. I've found the access codes."
Davidson hopped to his feet. "We can get you there."
Martha's heart sank. She couldn't tell the two men no in front of Docherty, or to head back to Torchwood where she knew Ianto and the others were waiting. She forced herself to smile her thanks.
Milligan nodded in agreement. He checked the ammo in his gun. "We can't go across London in the dark. It's full of wild dogs; we'd get eaten alive."
"Oh and I thought those floating ball things were bad," Davidson muttered as he gathered up their things.
"We can wait till the morning," Milligan continued, "then go with the medical convoy."
"You can spend the night here, if you like," Docherty offered.
Before Martha could decide if it would be safer for her escorts to wait there, Milligan shook his head.
"No, we can get halfway, stay at the slave quarters in Bexley." Milligan reached over and to Martha's amusement, shook Docherty's hand. End of the world and still a gentleman, Martha mused.
"Professor, thank you," Davidson copied Milligan, his handshake more excited.
Docherty smiled tightly. She shook her hand slightly when Davidson released it before she looked over at Martha. Her tired eyes drifted to Martha's pack then to her face.
"Good luck." Docherty sounded almost wistful.
Martha wished she could tell her she understood; that if offered her brother Leo's whereabouts, she might be tempted to do what she suspected Docherty would do as soon as Martha left. Martha wished she could tell Docherty that her hope was well founded; that her son was alive and well. But Martha couldn't. She didn't know. Too many loved ones were displaced and scattered across the Earth, too many were buried in unmarked graves.
Instead, Martha leaned forward and kissed Docherty lightly on her cheek. The older woman started and stared at Martha.
"Thanks," Martha said softly. She smiled and wished she could apologize or tell the woman that it was going to be okay. Martha didn't know if it was true. The case was heavy in her pack and Martha was acutely aware of the fact that two men were willing to follow her into unknown danger simply because of who she was. Martha wondered if this was how the Doctor felt when she traveled with him. Or did he ever give it a thought?
Martha turned away before her face betrayed her. She began to follow Davidson and Milligan out.
"Martha."
Martha paused and turned back towards the curious expression on Docherty's face.
"Could you do it?" Docherty murmured as she studied Martha. "Could you actually kill him?"
Yes, Martha wanted to say. Maybe it would convince Docherty, but she saw something behind the beaten spirit Martha saw all over the world.
Fear.
Martha shrugged. No words from one person alone could sway a yearlong embedded fear.
"Got no choice," Martha whispered so Davidson and Milligan wouldn't hear.
There was disappointment in the woman's eyes. Martha mourned the dimming of the defiance Docherty showed before in the Toclafane's capture. Archangel was far more convincing than the legend of Martha Jones.
"You might be many things," Docherty concluded sadly, "but you don't look like a killer to me."
Martha silently agreed with Docherty. She smiled tightly, turned around and walked away.
Torchwood, Cardiff
Owen eyed Ianto from his perch by the sofa in Jack's office. Ianto was dutifully ignoring him as he typed in the calculations the Doctor had given him for the Rift Manipulator. Coupled with Tosh's past equations, the chance of accuracy looked frighteningly promising now.
Gwen could be heard inside Jack's quarters, the telegraph ticking away. The members of the resistance were positioning themselves in the various rocket bases, disguised as slaves, armed with the bundles of explosives. Not that it would help, Owen scowled to himself. There were too few resistance fighters against millions of scared slaves. The very people they were trying to help could stop them if they tried to tamper with the rockets.
The goatee was bothering him again and Owen scratched at it idly as he watched Ianto frown at the screen when the laptop beeped. Owen didn't know what the point was in opening the Rift up like a melon. Didn't Jack tell them last time that it was a bad idea? Course, none of them listened and look how well that turned out. They ended up letting out some big, stinky, naked monster to go stomp-stomp all over bloody Cardiff.
"Stop that."
Owen raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"
Ianto huffed and shot him an annoyed look.
"Stop looking at me like I'm going to fall asleep again."
Owen rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't come whinging to me if you hit your head though, narco boy."
A rather impolite snort made Owen smirk.
"I doubt it'll happen again. The Doctor indicated it would be the only communication he dared try." Ianto waved towards the laptop. A patch of light flickered dully on his face.
"So how are we supposed to know when to use that?" Owen pointed out. He gestured towards the laptop. "Bloody Saxon made the announcement he's launching those rockets tomorrow. We do what the Doctor told you, we don't know what it'll do, but for sure, Saxon's gonna know we're here."
"The Doctor seems to think when the time comes, I'll know."
Owen rolled his eyes again. "Brilliant." He paused, his eyes flicking back towards Ianto's bowed head.
"No chance Jack might…you know…call?" Owen asked quietly. He regretted asking when Ianto's shoulders slumped.
"No." Ianto scrubbed his face with both his hands. Maybe it would be best if Jonesy fell asleep right then, after all.
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. So we rig the Rift Manipulator then what?"
Ianto took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the laptop. "Then…we wait."
Valiant
Lucy stirred when she felt the bed give.
"Harry?" she mumbled. "Where—"
"Have to dash off, sweet Lucy." Harry's lips brushed across her forehead. "A date…with an old friend."
Lucy squinted in the dark at Harry as he tiptoed around the remains of the canisters littered all over the floor of their chambers. Together, they'd shattered the canisters and waltzed around as the vapors swirled about their ankles before their skin absorbed the sweet tang of the vortex. Lucy writhed with Harry on their bed as the universe shrank over them and became so much clearer. Lucy had seen her husband by her side, their children out on the battlefield, a prince to lead them all. She saw her useless and now powerless father bowed over the rubble of a mine. Oh, it had made perfect sense. Such perfect sense that when Harry cried out another name, all Lucy could feel was joy that her Master was with her.
There was a little click when Harry checked his stopwatch. The red ring on his finger glittered in the dark; the ring Harry said she—not the other Lucy, but her—had given him. It had saved him, Harry said as he sank into her one glorious night in the TARDIS. By transitive leaps, Lucy knew it meant she had saved Harry.
"Old friend?" Lucy murmured, not feeling particularly alarmed right now.
Harry sat at the edge of the bed. His smile was as brilliant and mysterious as when she had first met him. His pupil-less eyes, still saturated with the vortex, glowed almost pale blue in the dark like Lucy knew hers did currently.
"Martha Jones." Harry checked his fob watch again. "She should be crossing into Bexley very soon."
A thrill wiggled up her belly. "She's here?"
"Has been for some time. Tried to catch her before. Slippery little bitch. No matter. I remember where she would be next."
"Hm," Lucy hummed as she sat up to help straighten Harry's tie, "my clever, clever Harry."
Harry's white eyes were fading back to his normal gray ones as he looked at Lucy with a fondness Lucy hadn't seen since he invited her into his TARDIS.
"It will be better this time," Harry promised. "The universe will bow as it should and our empire will rise."
"And the drumming?" Lucy twirled the ends of his tie around her fingers.
Harry's smile crinkled. He pulled her head towards him and kissed the top of her head.
"I am sorry, sweetheart."
Lucy's fingers stilled. She lowered her gaze.
"Only Jack and I can hear it, but no matter. He is our Companion, I promise you."
It didn't get rid of the lump in her throat completely but Lucy nodded. She rested her head on Harry's left shoulder.
"The children," Lucy whispered.
"Yes," Harry breathed. "They may not be of your flesh, Lucy, but they will be our children and no one else's."
Good enough. Lucy lifted her head and kissed Harry hard on the mouth and tried to imagine the vortex twisting inside her slithering into her Master. When Lucy pulled back, Harry looked stunned.
"Well then," Harry started. He levered off the bed and straightened his jacket. "Mustn't keep Miss Jones waiting. I'm sure her family and the Doctor are very anxious to see her."
Lucy dropped back on the bed and watched Harry head for the door.
"Oh." Harry stopped in his tracks and pivoted gracefully around on his heel. Harry smirked.
"A Professor Docherty will be calling soon with what she thinks is some valuable information. Tell my men to relay it to me. It could be good for laughs." Harry pointed at a corner next to their bed.
"In the armoire, there's a black hatbox. It's for Docherty." Harry chuckled. "She's been looking for that. Send it down to Nuclear Plant Seven with my compliments. Make sure they film her reaction when she opens it. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to get that back."
Harry blew her a kiss and left.
Curiosity got the better of her and Lucy padded across to the piece of furniture they had stripped out of Buckingham. Lucy had mentioned she admired it once and Harry presented it to her after the first month anniversary of the Toclafane's arrival.
Lucy ignored the glass that cut her bare feet as she walked. She pulled the surprisingly heavy box out. It was a hatbox like Harry said, black with a garishly bright red bow bigger than the box itself affixed on the lid. After a moment's hesitation, Lucy lifted up the lid and peered inside.
When she saw the permanently horrified eyes staring back up at her, Lucy laughed and laughed, tears running down her face, hysteria squirming cold in her belly. She kept laughing until the guards came to tell her a transmission was coming in for her Master.
Act VII
Additional Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Note that "the Year That Never Was" was suggested that it wasn't fun. I took it as a challenge to somehow still find a way to instill comfort in it. If it didn't work, I'm sorry. I suck. LOL.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, VIOLENCE, torture (mostly implied, all a matter of reader interpretation), sappy maudlin
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events/dialogue here that was referenced in DW's "Last of the Time Lords"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38, Ch 39, Ch 40 1/11, Ch 40 2/11, Ch 40 3/11, Ch 40 4/11, Ch 40 5/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act VI: "I'm a Time Lord. I have that right."
Valiant
The Doctor looked pathetic all shriveled and small in his cage, just large enough for him to curl up on his side to sleep. The rusty cage hung above the banister that led to the upper deck of the bridge.
Harry was sick and tired of all the people milling about, the constant reports of satellites drifting, work progress and weather updates. He dismissed them all from the bridge and as a joke, threw a rag over the cage like he would a songbird.
Harry patted Lucy’s arm tucked into the crook of his left elbow. He walked as if he was running and he shot her an impatient frown every time Lucy tripped in the hall. It was hard to see. Her left eye still burned vaguely from where Harry had struck her for her betrayal. He forgave her afterwards though and stayed with her through the night, murmuring in the dark how it would soon all be better.
The red gown Harry said suited her was too long and Lucy kept stepping on her own hem. But Harry wanted her to dress up nice for their meal. Dinner theater, Harry announced and they had dined as they watched their Toclafane gleefully chase seagulls into the Valiant's engines.
Lucy said nothing as Harry steered her towards the bridge. She felt the tremors going up and down his arm. It echoed hers although the chills that plagued her, the extra sharp clarity that lingered after every feed had faded to memory by now.
Harry stayed with her after his broadcast, but it was an empty victory as she watched her husband, her Master, pace their chambers until she fell asleep. Because she woke up with him on their bed besides her, Lucy said nothing and just pressed her face to his back until Harry roused and drowsily shooed her off.
"Tomorrow, they launch," Harry announced as he slapped the doors to the bridge open. He strode into the bridge with Lucy in tow.
"We're opening up a rift in the Braccatolian space." Harry leaned closer to the cage. The dark rag was off the cage and on the floor next to his food dish. "They won't see us coming."
Lucy imagined rockets like glittering birds sailing across the rift. Her arms pimpled with an odd cold/hot rush as she imagined the storm changing the face of her universe. It was like standing above a shattered canister of blue, timeless energy as it wafted up into her bones. Oh, the energy of the universe, the energy of being right. Lucy swayed when Harry let go of her arm.
"Kinda scary." Harry pretended to shiver as he stalked closer to the Doctor. He took great glee as he spoke, smiling as if he knew a secret he wanted so desperately to share.
Lucy watched the diminutive Doctor hobble with great difficulty towards the bars and he curled dark, age spotted fingers around his prison.
"Then stop," the Doctor said in a voice wispier than before. She frowned at herself. Her belly stirred at how weak the Doctor sounded.
"Once the empire is established and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then… " Lucy watched her Master's eyes dull and the slick smile he bestowed the Doctor faltered, "it stops."
Lucy's throat worked when the Doctor glanced over to her over Harry's bowed head.
It will never stop.
Lucy wasn't sure if the voice in her head was the Doctor's or her own. Lucy stiffened and glowered at the diminished Time Lord. She wouldn't be fooled into betraying Harry again.
"The drumming," Harry murmured, his eyes staring past the Doctor. Lucy longed to reach out to the figure in black. Harry seemed to be farther and farther away with every passing minute.
Harry's face twisted, contorted; he looked nothing like the man who had rescued her far away in the TARDIS from her monotonous, senseless life.
"The never-ending drumbeat." Harry staggered back to the large table. Harry shrugged Lucy's tentative hand away. He sat down at the edge of the table.
"Ever since I was a child." His fingers hammered lightly on the wood. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Lucy's hands spasmed against her sides as she watched Harry's right hand stretched by his side. Tapping. Always tapping.
"I looked into the vortex." Harry inhaled and it almost came out broken. "That's when it chose me."
Fingers on the table grew louder.
"The drumming, the call to war."
Lucy tried to copy the beat but after a few repetitions, her fingers lost track.
Harry's feet were starting to mimic his fingers' One-two-three-four.
"Can't you hear it?" Harry breathed, his eyes bright with an almost wide-eyed innocence as he raised his gaze, "Listen…
Lucy tilted her head towards the table, her fingers twitching but failing to imitate perfectly.
"It's there now." Fingers began to sound like short barks of gunfire, mocking her failure. "Right now."
Lucy bit her lower lip as her fingers missed a beat of the tempo. She wanted to scream. Instead, she listened. Her eyes glazed over and she tried to let it consume her but it always stayed out of reach just along the edge of her consciousness.
"Tell me you can hear it, Doctor."
I hear it, Lucy wanted to weep to her Master. I promise, I do. I hear it.
"Tell me." It almost sounded like a plea.
The Doctor with his bald head and large eyes studied Harry before he said very carefully, "It's only you."
Harry stared at the Doctor. His hand came up to the cage.
"Not just me," her Master whispered.
"He can't hear it anymore," the Doctor replied. His voice no longer held the deep tenor that echoed in the bridge before.
"But he heard it once."
Lucy averted her gaze at the strained voice.
"He heard it only because you made him hear it." The cage swayed as the Doctor gripped the bars. "It means nothing."
The Master stroked a hand on the cage.
"You look pathetic, old friend. How thin you must be feeling right now. A fragile thread ready to snap." Harry's mouth curved. "All those years. They can go away easily if—"
"No."
Lucy jumped when Harry roared wordlessly and shook the cage. She lost sight of the Doctor for a moment as he fell. Harry started and yanked his arms back.
"See what you've made me do?" Harry said with an unsteady voice. He tugged his jacket straight. His hands shook when he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. Harry took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "Why must you be so obstinate?"
Lucy held her breath until the Doctor got up again. Trembling fingers caught the bars and with effort, the Doctor pulled himself up to stand.
"I've made you do nothing," the Doctor returned breathlessly. "Your own desperation is unraveling your mind."
"Desperation?" Harry stuck his face nose to nose with the Time Lord. "I'm not desperate. You were. Using my poor, impressionable Lucy."
The Doctor spared her a glance that made her bristle. She wanted to knock the cage off its perch, wipe that pitying look off his face.
"It seems to be a habit of yours," Harry decided. He straightened and rejoined Lucy by the table. He surprised Lucy by dropping an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.
"Using them." Lucy shivered at Harry's even words. "You do that a lot, don't you? Using your Companions until they're all spent, husked shells of their humanity."
"It was never my intention."
Lucy sighed as she rested her head on Harry's shoulder and felt a kiss on her temple. She smiled to herself.
"No," Harry agreed, "perhaps not, but it doesn't change the fact that you do; you use them, discard them, abandon them—"
"I'd never—"
"You did!" Harry stepped away from Lucy. He stood ramrod straight in front of the Doctor.
"Didn't you ever wonder why our captain was so willing to accept me? Why it was inconceivable for him to think that I might not be…you?"
Lucy smirked when the Doctor fell silent.
"And that is why he's my Companion."
Lucy's smile faded.
"You forfeited that right on a space station far into the future."
"I never meant—"
"But you did!" The Master spread his arms wide. "You did, Doctor, and as justified as you may feel or how hard you try to convince yourself of the contrary, you did. Left our Jack in a hollow metal grave simply because you feared the temptation of the vortex. Wrong, you called him. Wrong." Harry tapped a finger to his lower lip.
The Doctor studied Harry carefully, like an artifact. Wizened, shriveled up to something non-threatening, the Doctor showed no fear when Harry approached closer.
"Nothing to say now, Doctor?" her Master taunted the Time Lord. Lucy bit back a snicker.
The Doctor met Harry's gaze.
"You called him Jack."
Lucy's chuckle died in her throat.
Harry's face was immovable. "So?" he returned with a deliberately casual tone.
"You never called him Jack before."
Something flitted across Harry's expression and he straightened abruptly.
"You are mistaken, old friend." Harry sat on the table again next to Lucy, his arm stiff around her waist.
"I think not."
"What?" Harry's laugh was strange. "Nothing better to do than obsess over my lexis now?"
"You never took an interest in calling him by nam—"
Harry thrust his face at the cage. Lucy cringed but the Doctor held his ground.
"I shall call him whatever I like," Harry snarled. He slapped the cage lightly before he pivoted around to rejoin Lucy.
The Doctor tottered before he righted himself by holding the bars tight.
"But why call him Jack now? He hasn't called you Doctor, has he?"
There was no inflection in the Doctor's voice but there was something about it, that knowing tone that asked Harry yet never expected an answer because the Doctor already knew. Lucy wanted to smack the cage. She wanted to smack it hard. She wanted to smack the guards she knew were listening in outside, smack the creature strung up in the engine rooms who dared deny Harry, captured his attention and…and…
Lucy bunched her left hand into a fist and let the sharp bite of blood her nails drew bring her back to what she needed to focus on. Mustn't wander, Lucy told herself. Harry would be cross.
"Harry," Lucy murmured but she choked at whatever she was going to say when Harry's arm tightened around her.
Behind them, the door opened and Lucy heard the hum of one of their children floating over to them.
"Tomorrow, the war. Tomorrow we rise. Never to fall."
Lucy shared a smile with her Harry. Tomorrow. Yes, it will be better tomorrow just like Harry promised.
"You see?" Harry swept his free arm towards the Toclafane with a broad arc. "I'm doing it for them! You should be grateful! After all, you love them. So very, very much."
The Doctor merely stared at the globe, his eyes dull as if in grief.
Harry chuckled as he hugged Lucy closer. "I took Lucy to Utopia, you know. A Time Lord and his human Companion."
Lucy's throat worked. Not Companion. His wife, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. She merely rested her body against him, careful not to lean all her weight on him.
"I took her to see the stars. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
Lucy whimpered to herself. She didn't want to remember the endless fall into despair. It was cold. It was a forever she couldn't bear to contemplate.
Harry's fingers dug into her side. Lucy flinched.
"Tell him, sweetheart," Harry hissed into her ear.
"Trillions of years into the future," Lucy found herself saying, "to the end of the universe." Oh, horrible, horrible end.
Harry kissed her cheek. "Go on," he encouraged. "Tell him what you saw."
Lucy drifted back to when she was curled on the floor of the TARDIS, when Harry took her into the safe confines of his mind. She had been screaming for hours until Harry saved her and peeled layers of Utopia away from her mind, until their intensity dimmed into fleeting memory.
"Dying," Lucy said dreamily. Harry's voice that day had pulled her out of the endless wailing and weeping. "Everything dying. The whole of creation was falling apart." Lucy blinked and Harry brushed his lips across her cheek, a God's promise. "And I thought…there's no point. No point to anything. Not ever."
"And it's all your fault," Harry concluded harshly.
Yes. It was the Doctor's fault. Lucy slipped one arm around Harry's back and dropped her head onto a strong shoulder. Spinning, spinning. She could feel herself spinning as she fell and there was a hunger to be one with the universe again, to know all the answers. In that moment, she instantly understood Harry's hunger for filthy Jack Harkness and his vortex. Her teeth ached as if they wanted to suck the marrow out of the beast's bones and drain him of a power he wasn't worthy of. Lucy licked her teeth and swallowed hard.
"All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons. It all turned inwards. They cannibalized themselves."
"We made ourselves so pretty," the Toclafane sang.
There were a few canisters left. Harry refused to leech the vortex from them. Maybe…maybe she could…
"Regressing into children." Harry's laugh was like knives pricking her ears. "Human race. Greatest monster of them all. But it didn't work. The universe was collapsing around them."
Lucy pressed her face into Harry's shoulder. Their eyes. Their eyes had watered when they reached Utopia and the truth of humanity's fate. They had ripped their eyes out first and wired their sight to a hive of machines that only fed them numbers and light so they wouldn't despair.
"My masterpiece, Doctor." Harry petted Lucy's hair when she shivered. "A living TARDIS, strong enough to hold the paradox in place, allowing the past and the future to collide in infinite majesty."
"But you're changing history," the Doctor protested in his reed-thin voice. His admonishment sounded ridiculous in his diminished body. "Not just Earth, the entire universe."
No, no, Lucy wanted to correct the defeated Time Lord. Not changing. Fixing.
"I'm a Time Lord. I have that right."
Lucy nodded to herself and interlaced her fingers with the hand stroking her. Harry drew up her hand to his lips and kissed their clasped hands.
"My Master," Lucy whispered and Harry kissed her knuckles again.
"But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?" the Doctor asked.
"We've come backwards in time to build a brand new empire lasting a hundred trillion years." The Toclafane bobbed merrily in the air around them.
"With me as their master and my Lucy as their queen. Time Lord and humans combined." Harry chuckled. "Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?"
The Doctor stared up at him with wide eyes, like a frightened child finally seeing the monster in the closet.
"Not like this," the Doctor whispered. "No. Never this way."
Harry sneered. "Good. I hate to think my idea wasn't original."
"You're fixing us, Harry," Lucy added. She found she could smirk at the Doctor now without flinching when he stared back.
Harry's chest rumbled underneath her. He drew her up and spun her around in a twirl from a waltz. Her reward was the brilliant smile he gave her.
"Yes. Yes, I am." Harry nodded towards her as he leveled his eyes on the cage.
"Where you have spent them, Doctor, I will have saved them. I think we misnamed ourselves… Doctor."
The Toclafane giggled madly above the cage. It kept muttering "Doctor" to itself in a mocking chant.
"Night-night," Harry offered in a light, almost exuberant voice. He looped an arm around Lucy again. Her skin tingled where he stroked the red silk. She followed her Master out the door, the Doctor's eyes on her as they exited. Lucy never looked back. When the doors shut though, she couldn't help but shiver as the wood thumped closed like the lid of a coffin.
Nuclear Plant Seven
Martha covered her mouth with her hand. She could hear Davidson's harsh breathing behind her. Milligan was barely breathing at all as he stood with his pistol still pointing at the remains of the dissected Toclafane.
"Christ," Davidson choked out. "Are you telling me those t-things are us?"
"Not us." Docherty stared at the remains. She didn't wipe the blood splatter from her face. For some reason, Martha was glad the blood wasn't red. It was green, almost oily looking, like machinery lubricant.
Martha gulped and looked away. "Not us," she agreed with Docherty, "from the future."
"Oh yes, that makes a world of difference, thank you," Davidson snapped. "Christmas dinner should be interesting from now on."
Milligan finally lowered his gun. "If they're from the future," Milligan spoke up in a shaky voice, "does that mean I killed one of our descendants?”
"Who cares?" Davidson exclaimed.
Martha smiled tightly when Milligan breathed out sharply through his teeth.
"Paradox machine," Martha said.
"What?" Milligan asked, appearing as though he wasn't sure if he was disgusted with the remains or his gun or both.
"They may be from the future, but they're existing here. That way when they kill us, one of their possible ancestors, they won't get wiped out."
"Well, convenient if someone wants to commit genocide," Davidson muttered to himself.
"I think it's time we had the truth, Miss Jones." Docherty recovered enough to wipe her face clean and push the globe away from her. "The legend says you've traveled the world to find a way of killing the Master. Tell us, is it true?"
Martha could feel the others staring. She took a deep breath. "Just before I escaped, the Doctor told me…" She stared at Docherty, who was watching her with fascination. Martha glanced over at the other two.
"The Doctor gave me a plan," Martha said finally. It was the closest to the truth she could allow. The words ran in her head as she recited her script. "The Doctor and the Master, they've been coming to Earth for years. And they've been watched."
Martha prayed her hands didn't tremble too much when she pulled a small handle-less attaché case from her pack. Don't shake it, Martha. Don't stir the chemicals. Careful, girl.
"There's UNIT and Torchwood, all studying Time Lords in secret. And they made this." Martha took great care in opening the case. The three colored tubes from the pharmacy in Texas sloshed gently in their slots. The three the Doctor somehow found a way to instruct Torchwood to adjust, to fiddle with into not the poison Owen first telegraphed to her, but into something she now couldn't understand. Damn the Doctor and all his secrets.
"The ultimate defense," Martha whispered before she closed the case again. Weapon or not now, she loathed exposing it to too many people.
Milligan had leaned over her shoulder to look at it. He grunted, unimpressed.
"All you need to do is get close. I can shoot the Master dead with this." Milligan brandished his gun in the air.
"Well, don't shoot it now, he isn't here," Davidson griped as he edged back from Milligan.
Docherty gave Milligan a foul look. "Actually, you can put that down now, thank you very much."
Martha bit back a smile. Milligan looked like a boy waving his toy pistol. The weapon looked ill fitted in his grasp. "Point is," Martha cut in before Davidson could confiscate it from Milligan, "it's not so easy to kill a Time Lord. They can regenerate; literally bring themselves back to life."
There was a twisted look that crossed Docherty's face, as if hope had died. "Ah, the Master's immortal," Docherty mumbled. Her hands twitched as she looked away to the side. "Wonderful."
Even if it was a lie, Martha forced herself to smile encouragingly. She reopened the case again. "Except for this." Martha picked up the gun by the grip. The metal felt cool and too light in her hand.
"Four chemicals," Martha counted as she indicated the three holes and the other that was welded shut, "slotted into the gun, inject him…kills a Time Lord permanently."
Milligan's brow knitted together. "Four chemicals? You've only got three," he pointed out.
Martha made sure Docherty was watching her as she nodded. "Still need the last one ‘cause the components of this gun were kept safe, scattered across the world." Martha hefted the gun in her hand. It still felt light. Would it be too light to be believed genuine? Martha curled her hand around the handle. "I found them. San Diego, Beijing, Budapest and London." Lies, all lies. It was unfair how good she was getting at this.
The rejuvenated eager faces on Davidson and Milligan nearly made Martha cringe.
"Then where is it?" Milligan demanded.
It was easier to look at Docherty's thoughtful face when Martha responded. "There's an old UNIT base, north London. I've found the access codes."
Davidson hopped to his feet. "We can get you there."
Martha's heart sank. She couldn't tell the two men no in front of Docherty, or to head back to Torchwood where she knew Ianto and the others were waiting. She forced herself to smile her thanks.
Milligan nodded in agreement. He checked the ammo in his gun. "We can't go across London in the dark. It's full of wild dogs; we'd get eaten alive."
"Oh and I thought those floating ball things were bad," Davidson muttered as he gathered up their things.
"We can wait till the morning," Milligan continued, "then go with the medical convoy."
"You can spend the night here, if you like," Docherty offered.
Before Martha could decide if it would be safer for her escorts to wait there, Milligan shook his head.
"No, we can get halfway, stay at the slave quarters in Bexley." Milligan reached over and to Martha's amusement, shook Docherty's hand. End of the world and still a gentleman, Martha mused.
"Professor, thank you," Davidson copied Milligan, his handshake more excited.
Docherty smiled tightly. She shook her hand slightly when Davidson released it before she looked over at Martha. Her tired eyes drifted to Martha's pack then to her face.
"Good luck." Docherty sounded almost wistful.
Martha wished she could tell her she understood; that if offered her brother Leo's whereabouts, she might be tempted to do what she suspected Docherty would do as soon as Martha left. Martha wished she could tell Docherty that her hope was well founded; that her son was alive and well. But Martha couldn't. She didn't know. Too many loved ones were displaced and scattered across the Earth, too many were buried in unmarked graves.
Instead, Martha leaned forward and kissed Docherty lightly on her cheek. The older woman started and stared at Martha.
"Thanks," Martha said softly. She smiled and wished she could apologize or tell the woman that it was going to be okay. Martha didn't know if it was true. The case was heavy in her pack and Martha was acutely aware of the fact that two men were willing to follow her into unknown danger simply because of who she was. Martha wondered if this was how the Doctor felt when she traveled with him. Or did he ever give it a thought?
Martha turned away before her face betrayed her. She began to follow Davidson and Milligan out.
"Martha."
Martha paused and turned back towards the curious expression on Docherty's face.
"Could you do it?" Docherty murmured as she studied Martha. "Could you actually kill him?"
Yes, Martha wanted to say. Maybe it would convince Docherty, but she saw something behind the beaten spirit Martha saw all over the world.
Fear.
Martha shrugged. No words from one person alone could sway a yearlong embedded fear.
"Got no choice," Martha whispered so Davidson and Milligan wouldn't hear.
There was disappointment in the woman's eyes. Martha mourned the dimming of the defiance Docherty showed before in the Toclafane's capture. Archangel was far more convincing than the legend of Martha Jones.
"You might be many things," Docherty concluded sadly, "but you don't look like a killer to me."
Martha silently agreed with Docherty. She smiled tightly, turned around and walked away.
Torchwood, Cardiff
Owen eyed Ianto from his perch by the sofa in Jack's office. Ianto was dutifully ignoring him as he typed in the calculations the Doctor had given him for the Rift Manipulator. Coupled with Tosh's past equations, the chance of accuracy looked frighteningly promising now.
Gwen could be heard inside Jack's quarters, the telegraph ticking away. The members of the resistance were positioning themselves in the various rocket bases, disguised as slaves, armed with the bundles of explosives. Not that it would help, Owen scowled to himself. There were too few resistance fighters against millions of scared slaves. The very people they were trying to help could stop them if they tried to tamper with the rockets.
The goatee was bothering him again and Owen scratched at it idly as he watched Ianto frown at the screen when the laptop beeped. Owen didn't know what the point was in opening the Rift up like a melon. Didn't Jack tell them last time that it was a bad idea? Course, none of them listened and look how well that turned out. They ended up letting out some big, stinky, naked monster to go stomp-stomp all over bloody Cardiff.
"Stop that."
Owen raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"
Ianto huffed and shot him an annoyed look.
"Stop looking at me like I'm going to fall asleep again."
Owen rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't come whinging to me if you hit your head though, narco boy."
A rather impolite snort made Owen smirk.
"I doubt it'll happen again. The Doctor indicated it would be the only communication he dared try." Ianto waved towards the laptop. A patch of light flickered dully on his face.
"So how are we supposed to know when to use that?" Owen pointed out. He gestured towards the laptop. "Bloody Saxon made the announcement he's launching those rockets tomorrow. We do what the Doctor told you, we don't know what it'll do, but for sure, Saxon's gonna know we're here."
"The Doctor seems to think when the time comes, I'll know."
Owen rolled his eyes again. "Brilliant." He paused, his eyes flicking back towards Ianto's bowed head.
"No chance Jack might…you know…call?" Owen asked quietly. He regretted asking when Ianto's shoulders slumped.
"No." Ianto scrubbed his face with both his hands. Maybe it would be best if Jonesy fell asleep right then, after all.
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. So we rig the Rift Manipulator then what?"
Ianto took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the laptop. "Then…we wait."
Valiant
Lucy stirred when she felt the bed give.
"Harry?" she mumbled. "Where—"
"Have to dash off, sweet Lucy." Harry's lips brushed across her forehead. "A date…with an old friend."
Lucy squinted in the dark at Harry as he tiptoed around the remains of the canisters littered all over the floor of their chambers. Together, they'd shattered the canisters and waltzed around as the vapors swirled about their ankles before their skin absorbed the sweet tang of the vortex. Lucy writhed with Harry on their bed as the universe shrank over them and became so much clearer. Lucy had seen her husband by her side, their children out on the battlefield, a prince to lead them all. She saw her useless and now powerless father bowed over the rubble of a mine. Oh, it had made perfect sense. Such perfect sense that when Harry cried out another name, all Lucy could feel was joy that her Master was with her.
There was a little click when Harry checked his stopwatch. The red ring on his finger glittered in the dark; the ring Harry said she—not the other Lucy, but her—had given him. It had saved him, Harry said as he sank into her one glorious night in the TARDIS. By transitive leaps, Lucy knew it meant she had saved Harry.
"Old friend?" Lucy murmured, not feeling particularly alarmed right now.
Harry sat at the edge of the bed. His smile was as brilliant and mysterious as when she had first met him. His pupil-less eyes, still saturated with the vortex, glowed almost pale blue in the dark like Lucy knew hers did currently.
"Martha Jones." Harry checked his fob watch again. "She should be crossing into Bexley very soon."
A thrill wiggled up her belly. "She's here?"
"Has been for some time. Tried to catch her before. Slippery little bitch. No matter. I remember where she would be next."
"Hm," Lucy hummed as she sat up to help straighten Harry's tie, "my clever, clever Harry."
Harry's white eyes were fading back to his normal gray ones as he looked at Lucy with a fondness Lucy hadn't seen since he invited her into his TARDIS.
"It will be better this time," Harry promised. "The universe will bow as it should and our empire will rise."
"And the drumming?" Lucy twirled the ends of his tie around her fingers.
Harry's smile crinkled. He pulled her head towards him and kissed the top of her head.
"I am sorry, sweetheart."
Lucy's fingers stilled. She lowered her gaze.
"Only Jack and I can hear it, but no matter. He is our Companion, I promise you."
It didn't get rid of the lump in her throat completely but Lucy nodded. She rested her head on Harry's left shoulder.
"The children," Lucy whispered.
"Yes," Harry breathed. "They may not be of your flesh, Lucy, but they will be our children and no one else's."
Good enough. Lucy lifted her head and kissed Harry hard on the mouth and tried to imagine the vortex twisting inside her slithering into her Master. When Lucy pulled back, Harry looked stunned.
"Well then," Harry started. He levered off the bed and straightened his jacket. "Mustn't keep Miss Jones waiting. I'm sure her family and the Doctor are very anxious to see her."
Lucy dropped back on the bed and watched Harry head for the door.
"Oh." Harry stopped in his tracks and pivoted gracefully around on his heel. Harry smirked.
"A Professor Docherty will be calling soon with what she thinks is some valuable information. Tell my men to relay it to me. It could be good for laughs." Harry pointed at a corner next to their bed.
"In the armoire, there's a black hatbox. It's for Docherty." Harry chuckled. "She's been looking for that. Send it down to Nuclear Plant Seven with my compliments. Make sure they film her reaction when she opens it. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to get that back."
Harry blew her a kiss and left.
Curiosity got the better of her and Lucy padded across to the piece of furniture they had stripped out of Buckingham. Lucy had mentioned she admired it once and Harry presented it to her after the first month anniversary of the Toclafane's arrival.
Lucy ignored the glass that cut her bare feet as she walked. She pulled the surprisingly heavy box out. It was a hatbox like Harry said, black with a garishly bright red bow bigger than the box itself affixed on the lid. After a moment's hesitation, Lucy lifted up the lid and peered inside.
When she saw the permanently horrified eyes staring back up at her, Lucy laughed and laughed, tears running down her face, hysteria squirming cold in her belly. She kept laughing until the guards came to tell her a transmission was coming in for her Master.
Act VII
Additional Notes: Many thanks to
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.